N the spring of 1856 I received notice to attend the bedside of my dying father, residing in the State of Mississippi. Cornelius. Vanderbilt was then running an opposition line to the Pacific Mail Company via Nicaragua, and advertised and placarded the following: "The only route for speed, safety and comfort-through to New Orleans in nineteen days." Tickets for myself and family were

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chased, costing $500, with an additional $50 for choice of staterooms. My family consisted of myself, four children and nurse, the youngest an infant in arms. We left San Francisco March 23, 1856, on board the steamer Cortez for San Juan del Sur; arrived at San Juan on the eve of April 1st without incident or accident to mar the journey. After the vessel moored, several men came on board and demanded a sum of money due the Nicaragua Government for transit of freight and passengers across the Isthmus. Captain Collins and Mr. Cross, Vanderbilt's son-in-law, held a long consultation. After it ended, Cross said to them: "I have orders to settle; it will be all right to-morrow morning." The captain then said to the passengers: "It is now 6 o'clock-rather late to commence landing passengers. It will be much more pleasant and safe to commence early to-morrow to-morrow morning." We were all delighted, considering it quite a privilege to be allowed to remain on board.

A ship arrived the same day, or a few days previous, with a cargo

of coal for the use of the steamers which belonged to Mr. Vanderbilt. None of the passengers were aware that Mr. Vanderbilt owed the Nicaraguan Government several million dollars, nor of the fact that the Government had announced its intention to seize the next vessels belonging to his line that came within its jurisdiction, if the money were not paid. Vanderbilt had put off making this payment as long as he could, intending to withdraw his steamers from that line suddenly and secretly. When he started his opposition line, during the California gold fever, he contracted with the Nicaraguan Government for the use of lakes and territory for transportation of freight and passengers from ocean to ocean, he agreeing to pay a large sum for the privilege. The debt accumulated until reached several millions, not one cent of which has ever, even to this day, been paid. During the time he was using the country for his own benent, he sent several hundred men down on his steamers equipped to revolutionize the country and to try and form some sort of a de facto government to open a loophole for him to get out of paying his debt. Poor fellows! Most of them were killed or died of fever, sad victims to Vanderbilt's rapacious intrigue and cupidity.

A Valuable Coal Ship.

Before the sailing of the Cortez, Vanderbilt's steamer, Uncle Sam brought up the ultimatum from San

Juan. If, on the arrival of the Cortez, arrangements were not made for an immediate payment of the debt, all the Vanderbilt property would be seized. It was known in New York when the coal ship was due at San Juan, and Mr. Cross was sent out to San Francisco to manage the affair. The coal ship had to be saved, coal being worth at that time $30 per ton and over. It was planned to send the Cortez down to tow her away and take as many passengers as they could get to pay expenses of the trip, and, as it proved in the end, sacrificing the lives and destroying the health of the passengers from cruel treatment, starvation and the deadly effect of a tropical climate. To do it they had also to break the maritime laws in changing the destination of the steamer without official authority. After the passengers had retired that night, the Cortez loosened her mooring, taking the huge coal ship in tow to save herself from seizure, taking us all we did not know where, to some unknown destination.

The late William Garrison was on board, and stepped ashore, and in the hurry and secrecy to get the steamer out of the harbor, he was not notified. He was obliged to sail 600 miles in an open boat to reach Panama, to get transportation to San Francisco. It was during the rainy season that he made the trip, and he contracted sciatica, from which, I believe, he never entirely recovered.

he was going to do with us, as the mail steamer was not due until the 13th of April.

Arrived at Panama.

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Captain Collins then got upon the wheel-house and told the passengers that as long as the "grub" lasted they could remain on board. Dinner came-salt black pickled beef; beans, raw, merely swelled, and hard bread, with black bugs running out of it. The children ate the beef (hungry children will eat anything), and were very thirsty after and crying for water. I went to the steward and told him to have the tank filled, as it was empty. He replied: "Madam, there is not drop of water on board. If you want your children to have water, you win have to take them ashore." My babe was crying from. hunger. I had no nourishment for her, as I was in a state of starvation myself, and she only drew blood from my breasts. I went into the galley and offered five dollars for a paper of corn starch, as I could not see my child die for want of food. The cook replied: "I am very sorry for your poor baby; I have a little one myself at home, but cannot give you what you ask. I have positive orders not to give anything to the passengers." I was standing on deck near Mr. Cross, when one of the colored servants came to him and said: "Massar Cross, the passengers are saying awful hard things, and will make it very hot for the Commodore when they get to New York." His reply was: "Let the passengers go to hell." I then concluded to go ashore, though I dreaded the climate, having had the Panama fever. April 9th we were landed at Panama. The captain would not send us ashore in one of the ship's boats. I paid $10 for my family and baggage to be landed by the avaricious boatI took rooms at the Ocean

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Hotel, opposite the depot, at a cost of $10 a day, awaiting the arrival of the mail steamer. The passengers all came ashore; they had to do so or die of starvation. Oh, how dreadful were my feelings and suffering to be thus thrown ashore with my little family, the eldest not eight years, the youngest not five months old. Weak and emaciated from the effect of the long, wearisome voyage from San Juan to Panama and want of proper food, my constant thoughts were, what will become of my helpless children if I am taken from them? It was well I could not foresee the terrible scenes I had to pass through-death and rapine. On the evening of

The Memorable 15th of April, news came that the steamer Georgia had arrived at Aspinwall from New York with passengers. I was delighted in thinking that deliverance was so near. Soon the John L. Stephens arrived from San Francisco to connect with the Georgia. The streets were soon filled with the new arrivals, walking, chatting and purchasing. There were about 1,000 persons from the three steamers. All of a sudden a row occurred between one of the steerage passengers of the Georgia and a fruit peddler about the price of a watermelon. Soon the melee became general, and terminated in a massacre and riot. In a few minutes the report of firearms and the cry of the natives, "Death to every American," filled the air. The proprietor of the Ocean House closed doors and windows and told us to be very quiet and we need have no fear. Next we heard them attack the building and trying to force the doors, which yielded to their weight. The infuriated mob rushed in, yelling and destroying everything in the dining room and first floor. The superintendent of the railroad rushed upstairs and cried in a loud voice for all to leave the building immedi

ately and follow him to the depot. He said the natives would not dare molest ra.iroad property. Twilight had now merged into darkness; the only light was the blaze from the firearms. Cries of "Murder!" and "Oh, my God!" the shrieks of frightened frightened women and children, miled the air.

In the Depot.

We were all rushed into a room over the depot, about fifty feet long and twenty wide, and the terrorstricken people continued to pile in until there were between 600 and 700 panic-stricken men, women and children. It was crowdea to suffocation. We had been there but a short time when the depot was attacked, the balls ranging three feet from the floor. The walls consisted of a very thin weather boarding, through which the balls whizzed as if in open air. After several had been killed and wounded, an order was given for all to lie down flat on the floor, to get out of the range of the balls. Men became wild, and would have thrown themselves head foremost on helpless children had not others, more calm, exclaimed: "My God! don't smother the children!" Meantime cries in the Spanish tongue filled the air: "Burn! Burn! Death to every American!" The room was filled with smoke, caused by the constant firing; but as we did not know the cause we thought the building had been fired and our doom was sealed. We had no hope. Despair had now taken possession of the people.

The militia was at last ordered out. When we heard the sound of the drums one loud cry broke forth: "We are saved! Saved!" Our hopes were only momentary, for the troops, instead of protecting us, fired a volley into the depot.

The Escape.

Thus we all remained in that awful condition with our faces to the

floor for several hours. The moon rose about half-past eleven, when the rioters, tired and stupid from the effect of liquors which they had taken from the buildings they had sacked, and wishing to divide their spoils, became comparatively quiet. Then we were ordered to leave the building and proceed to the little. Taboga, to be taken out to sea. While on the way to the boat a native tore my ear-rings from my ears and one ear was terribly lacerated. As it was reported there would be a renewed attack by daylight, sad to relate, many of the people became panic-stricken and did not wish to leave the depot. They screamed, raved and yelled, and had no control whatever over themselves. Finally, through tact and good management of the railroad superintendent, order was restored. We then proceeded to the Taboga. Before we arrived the boat was densely crowdea with persons from various places seeking safety, also the dead and wounded that were gathered from the street. In leaving the depot we had to step over the dead bodies of our brave countrymen who had fallen defending the ladies and children, some of them being terribly mutilated, their foreheads being cleaved open by the machete. It was a ghastly spectacle by moonlight.

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The vessel containing the wounded and the dying steamed out to the John L. Stephens, placing those bound for San Francisco on board and returning with those for Aspinwall. The tide being out we were landed on a promontory that is covered with water at high tide, and it was with the greatest difficulty we could step from one rock to another, as they were covered with barnacles and slime. Entering the city once more at 8 o'clock a. m., suffering from intense heat and exhaustion, my feet bleeding

was in my stockinged feet, having lost my slippers in the depot),

having been cut by the barnacles. I then learned to my horror that the baggage trains had been sacked, also the Ocean Hotel, my trunks having shared the same fate. I then realized that I was in a foreign land, clotheless and penniless. In going to the depot I passed the dead bodies, dreadfully mutilated. Some had their tickets for the Atlantic side stuck to their breasts in derision. When on the cars, en route for Aspinwall, my infant was seized with cholera infantum, and I had to tear the clothes from my person to supply the wants of nature for her.

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A Difference in Treatment.

Among the passengers was Mrs. Ogden, of Louisville, Ky., with her two children-one an infant a few months old, the other a little girl about two years of age. When the riot commenced, she ran panicstricken to find a place of safety for herself and little ones. When found, they were imbedded in the tide mud under the Mail Company's wharf. A rope was placed around her waist, and she was raised to the wharf. Oh, such a sight! The mother still holding on to her babes, the little one having its arm clasped tightly around its mother's neck. None of them had any resemblance to human beings. The mud had dried on their faces and formed hideous masks. Only the whites of their eyes could be seen through it. Mrs. Ogden possessed a most luxuriant head of hair, which had escaped from its fastenings and hung down her back like a stick of wood, so saturated had it been with the tide fluid and mud. When it became dry, it was not flexible enough to bend. The lady passengers on the Atlantic steamer, with the assistance of the stewardess, worked very hard with the family for two days, when they became recognizable, and Mrs. Ogden's beautiful

hair was saved from the shears. Once on board the mail steamer, all praise to them, the captain and officers did all in their power to alleviate our sufferings. The captain said: "Ladies, take any article on board, sheets, curtains, etc. I will be responsible to the company." They could have treated us as intruders, as we were Vanderbilt's passengers, and he was running a fierce opposition to the Mail Company. On my arrival home my father died, and I was too ill to attend his funeral. I had a violent attack of brain fever, superinduced by the terrible scenes just passed through. I was confined to my bed for nearly one year, and sumered from insomnia. My physician thought it would permanently affect my brain. I left home for New York under the care of an experienced nurse, arriving May, 1857.

An Interview with Vanderbilt.

I called at the office of Cornelius Vanderbilt, No. 5 Bowling Green, and introduced myself as one of the passengers of the Cortez. I gave him a graphic description of Our journey, which he already knew about, and asked him what reparation he wanted to make. His answer was, "Not a cent." I then told him I did not wish to sacrifice myself and family to fill the coffers of the Vanderbilts. He looked at me and said: "Madam, have you not lived long enough to know that the big fish always eat the little ones?" I returned to San Francisco, still feeble. In a short time my nervous debility terminated in epileptic attacks, the physicians said, caused by fright. I have been under medical treatment ever since. I went East, and as I have never become reconciled to the misfortunes inflicted by Vanderbilt, I concluded to give him. another chance to make reparation. I thought old age and infirmities might have wrought a change.

sent him my legal documents for him to examine. He returned them with the cruel words within in his own handwriting, "Crazy or mad." I knew no more of him until I heard of his death in July, 1877. I was then at the United States Hotel, Saratoga.

William H. Vanderbilt

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was there with his family. My feelings not having undergone a change I sent him my card, requesting an interview. I told him my business. He said: "I know very little about the matter, as I was then farming in New Jersey." I referred him to his father's books, also to Mr. Cross, and to William Garrison, who were on the Cortez, and to C. K. Garrison, who was cognizant of the whole transaction, being the agent at San Francisco, and also had an interest. He said: "How can you expect me to pay a debt which my father refused during his life?" I said: “A very good reason, as a man's just debts should be paid at his death, if not before." He said, "No." then offered to place it before a committee of arbitration, and to let the decision settle the question. He said: "I could not do so. I am not interested." I then said: "Mr. Vanderbilt how would you like it if you purchased tickets for your wife and family on one of the Cunard steamers for Paris, and the company lands them at the British West Indies to suffer by a mob or die of fever?" He replied: "I would simply tell Mrs. Vanderbilt next time she traveled to take another line of steamers." I looked at him with amazement. Oh, how he reminded me of his father when he said to me: "Have you not lived long enough to know the big fish always eat the little ones?" He had the same metallic expression of his illustrious sire. Like father like son. When the steamship Cortez turned to San Francisco she

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