Costa Rican Country Life.
Costa Rica, or, translated into English, "rich coast," is the most progressive of the Central American republics. The people are very home-staying, that is, they do not like to travel, as do the English and Americans. They all seem to like their country, and rightly too, for there are few prettier lands or more delightful climates. It is very mountainous, but not many very high peaks. All the way from the port at Limon to San José, the capital, there is grand scenery. Passing along on the train up a steep grade one looks back and wonders how the road-builders ever got up. In some places along on the mountain-sides, as the train passes, you can pick ferns out of one window and out of the other can see the valley far below, with little houses that look as if built for dolls. In some of these places it is very dangerous, and the train has to go very slowly.
Arriving in San José and just leaving the station you can see the city lying below you. A little to the left, and at about the middle, you can see the large round dome of the cathedral, and a little way back the large red roof of the new theatre. To the right lie the new school building and the Plaza de Toros. Entering more into the city one is surprised and pleased at the numerous pretty parks that are scattered all through it. San José is called the "Little Paris," as here you can see the Spanish beauties dressed in the latest Parisian styles. Sunday afternoon is the time when the señoritas take a promenade in the Parque Central, where the music is playing and all is gay.
Let us leave the city life and people and look at the poor folks of the country, who toil that all these city people may be comfortable. The average country people can neither read nor write, because until quite a recent date schools have not been general. Although they cannot read or write, most of them have very intelligent faces, and are well informed about their position. The houses of these people are very mean structures, built of only rough boards lapped over and nailed. The roof is of sugar-cane leaves, or, at the best, tiles made out of mud and clay baked. Inside the houses there are rarely more than two rooms, neither of them having other floor than the bare ground. The cooking range is only a platform covered with sand. There are three stones to set the kettles on. The smoke wanders off through the roof or door, for as a rule there are no windows. The furniture is not very extensive, and consists of a table and one or two "taburetes" (chairs covered with the skin of an ox).
In every house you enter you will find some corner or shelf whereon is placed some image or saint. The picture of their patron saint is hung on the wall. The house is as free to the chickens, pigs, and dogs as to the people themselves. The pigs run around, picking up what can be found to eat on the floor, and then crawl away under the bed or table and sleep the sleep of the—pig.
The people are generally strong and healthy. Their food consists, year in and year out, of rice and frijoles (black beans), and the great Costa Rican bread called tortilla. A tortilla is dried hulled corn ground on a stone and made into a sort of pancake, which is laid amongst the ashes and baked. When one has learned to eat it, it is very good. The people are not such thieves as they have been represented to be by many. To be sure, they will steal food, eggs, vegetables, and firewood, but nothing more. I have known a mill to be open for over three months, with valuable tools lying around, but never a one missing. The people are very polite, and when passing one in the road they always say adios (good-by), or buenos dias (good-day). The men all carry a large knife suspended at the belt, but it is for such use as we make of a pen or pocket knife.
Sir L. E. Tower.
San José, Costa Rica.
The Helping Hand.
A friend of the Table and of the School Fund wrote recently to Jules Verne, telling him about Good Will Farm, and asking him for a letter to be sold to that American admirer who would bid highest for it. The great novelist readily responded, and the letter, wholly in Mr. Verne's own hand, is now in our possession. Of course it is in French, but here is a translation of it: