The women, in my humble opinion, are for intelligence, character, and beauty the superiors of any other nation inhabiting the southern portion of the Western Hemisphere. As for the men, the Spanish blood seems to predominate in point of passion, for, besides being the most valiant soldier in time of war of any Central American race, the Salvadorean is also the most ardent lover and the most jealously-inclined towards his inamorata of any person upon the face of the earth. That also is my humble opinion, and that I have good grounds for my statement will presently appear.
There are just two things the foreigner in Salvador must not do: he must not poke his nose into political squabbles or try to interfere in a love affair. Ten times out of ten, if you do, it will be to your very great sorrow not counting the danger you run.
Now, when the wealthy coffee-planter or “hacienda” owner has need of the services of a doctor or dental surgeon he never thinks of leaving his plantation, but rounds up his mule-train, heads it with an excellent saddle animal, sends it off to the doctor, and invites the latter to pay him a visit. Experience has taught the practitioners that these invitations are very remunerative, and when the call comes business must certainly be very brisk to warrant a refusal. I, for one, have never found it advisable to decline, and so it happened that one Sunday afternoon I received a polite note requesting me to visit the Señor Don Eduardo Castillo, owner of the immense coffee plantation known as “Las Flores.” I should mention here that I have been compelled to use assumed names, for the family concerned is one of the most prominent in Salvador, and would not care for the notoriety which the publication of their name would give them.
Next morning found me with my entire dental paraphernalia packed upon the backs of a number of mules, and myself, under the escort of half-a-dozen servants, traversing the mountain trails leading around the base of the big volcano eight miles north of Santa Ana, upon the way to the “finca” of Las Flores. The journey was made without incident, though it was far into the night before we arrived, the distance traversed being something like forty-five miles.
Señor Eduardo met me at the door, and after partaking of a late dinner, being very much fatigued, I retired to my room, which was situated at the extreme end of the immense building. In point of furnishings and size the place constituted a small palace. Indeed, the manner in which the wealthy owners of these South American coffee plantations have managed to gather the comforts of life and many luxuries at so great a distance from a seaport or railroad is perfectly astounding. They have practically every modern convenience, and many others which you or I have never been used to.
It was late next morning when I awoke, very sore and stiff from my long ride. I found, however, that I was just in time for “coffee,” which is usually served at ten o’clock. Here I had the pleasure of meeting the members of the family, consisting of the mother, an aunt, one son, and two very charming daughters, both of whom spoke perfect English, having attended a school in the City of London for several years. I decided immediately that my four weeks’ visit was going to be very enjoyable, and I flattered myself that I had made a fairly good impression upon my hosts.
Life upon the “finca” was indeed delightful. Situated as it was at an altitude of over four thousand feet above sea-level, the days and nights were exhilaratingly cool and pleasant. I soon struck up a friendship—which still lasts—with the son of the house, and we enjoyed many pleasant hours in riding over the surrounding country. To the left, adjoining the plantation, was the immense cattle ranch owned by a young man named Gonzales, who, I found out later, was very much in love with the elder of Don Eduardo’s daughters, while three leagues farther on was another coffee plantation owned by an old man named Vasquez, whose son, I understood, had been paying much attention to the younger girl.
Two weeks passed very happily and speedily. Very early in my visit I became acquainted with how matters stood as regards the two courtships. The younger Vasquez, Roberto, had already proposed and had been accepted, while the other young man, Enrique, had been calling for several years—indeed, he often came two or three times a day—but as yet had never declared himself.
Being by this time well acquainted with Roberto and his betrothed, I laughingly suggested one afternoon to the two daughters and himself that it would be a good idea, as a means of finding out exactly what Enrique’s intentions were, for me to kiss the Señorita Hortensia one day when Enrique called, doing it in such a manner that the bashful lover could not fail to see, but so that his witnessing the act should appear an accident. The señorita, being full of girlish fun, had no objection, and so it came to pass that the very next afternoon, when we saw Enrique coming over, Miss Hortensia and I repaired to a very secluded spot upon the veranda, but one which was clearly visible from the road. There, in plain view of the approaching Enrique, I administered the salute—much to my satisfaction. If I could have foreseen its outcome, however, I should certainly have thought twice about my action.
Enrique saw me kiss the señorita just as he was dismounting, and, with an almost imperceptible start, he remounted his horse and galloped away. Then things began to happen. Hortensia—girl-like—retired to her room and commenced to weep, while her sister Leonia became very distant and chilly in her manner towards me, impressing upon me that if anything unpleasant occurred it would be all my fault. The only ones with whom I seemed to be upon anything like decent terms were the son and the elder people, who knew nothing about the state of miniature warfare I had thoughtlessly provoked. Dinner that evening, in consequence, was a very formal affair.