"Why, I like the diggings," said he; "and guess I could make things fix well enough. But suppose the President should choose to grow all the cocoa as well as all the gin! Where would my cacao-plants be then?" At a discount, undoubtedly. These are the effects on a country of despotism in a small way.
On my way into San José I got off my mule to look at an old peasant making dulce, or in other words grinding his sugar-canes by the roadside. It was done in the most primitive manner. One bullock turned the mill, which consisted of three vertical wooden rollers. The juice trickled into a little cistern; and as soon as the old man found that he had enough, he baled it out and boiled it down. And yet I imagine that as good sugar may be made in Costa Rica as in British Guiana. But who will put his capital into a country in which the President can pass any law he pleases on his own behalf?
In the neighbourhood of San José we began to come across the coffee plantations. They certainly give the best existing proof of the fertility and progress of the country. I had seen coffee plantations in Jamaica, but there they are beautifully picturesque, placed like hanging gardens on the steep mountain-sides. Some of these seem to be almost inaccessible, and the plant always has the appearance of being a hardy mountain shrub. But here in Costa Rica it is grown on the plain. The secret, I presume, is that a certain temperature is necessary, and that this is afforded by a certain altitude from the sea. In Jamaica this altitude is only to be found among the mountains, but it is attained in Costa Rica on the high plains of the interior.
And then we jogged slowly into San José on the third day after our departure from Punta-arenas. Slowly, sorely, and with minds much preoccupied, we jogged into San José. On leaving the saw-mill at the end of the tramway my two friends had galloped gallantly away into the forest, as though a brave heart and a sharp pair of spurs would have sufficed to carry them right through to their journey's end. But the muleteer with his pony and the baggage-mule then lingered far behind. His heart was not so brave, nor were his spurs apparently so sharp. The luggage, too, was slipping every ten minutes, for I unfortunately had a portmanteau, of which no muleteer could ever make anything. It has been condemned in Holy Land, in Jamaica, in Costa Rica, wherever it has had to be fixed upon any animal's back. On this occasion it nearly broke both the heart of the muleteer and the back of the mule.
But things were changed as we crept into San José. The muleteer was all life, and led the way, driving before him the pack-mule, now at length reconciled to his load. And then, at straggling intervals, our jibes all silenced, our showy canters all done, rising wearily in our stirrups at every step, shifting from side to side to ease the galls "That patient merit of the unworthy takes"—for our merit had been very patient, and our saddles very unworthy—we jogged into San José.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CENTRAL AMERICA. COSTA RICA—SAN JOSÉ.
All travellers when entering unknown towns for the first time have felt that intense interest on the subject of hotel accommodation which pervaded our hearts as we followed our guide through the streets. We had been told that there were two inns in the town, and that we were to go to the Hotel San José. And accordingly we went to it.
It was quite evident that the landlord at first had some little doubt as to the propriety of admitting us; and but for our guide, whom he knew, we should have had to explain at some length who we were. But under his auspices we were taken in without much question.