LESSONS.
DOLORES and Manuel are soon busy with their lessons. Although Manuel
is twelve years old and his sister ten, they are both learning to
speak French and a little Italian. I fear you would think them rather
backward in arithmetic and other grammar-school studies, but their
parents do not see the need of knowing as much of such things as do
American fathers and mothers.
The children have always had a governess, and have never been in a
public schoolroom in their lives. In fact, these are only now becoming
common since our people have taken Porto Rico under their care. Think
of it, children! In this beautiful island, only one person out of five
can read and write at present. Most of these have been brought up in
the towns and cities. Those who live out in the country seldom have had
a chance to go to school. If they were too poor to hire a governess or
study with the nuns in the convents, they grew up ignorant indeed.
Dolores is taught to embroider and to play a little on the guitar, so
her mother thinks her daughter is quite accomplished. Besides, both
Manuel and his sister are very graceful dancers and can sing well.
These are quite important studies, for wherever one goes in Porto Rico,
there he will find music and dancing.
At half-past eleven the books are closed, and the children join their
parents for the first regular meal of the day. This is the real
breakfast.
It is served in the large, low dining-room, where for the first time we
see the children's grown-up sister, Teresa. She is a lovely young lady
of sixteen, slight and graceful. She has the same black eyes as Manuel
and Dolores, soft and beautiful.
She wears no stockings, but her feet are encased in dainty blue kid
slippers. They are embroidered with pearl beads, and, no doubt, came
from Paris.
An ugly-looking woman takes her place beside Teresa at the table. This
is her "duenna." It is her duty to go everywhere with the young girl.
It would not be considered at all proper for Teresa to go driving, or
even walking, alone. It would not do for her to go shopping to the
town only three miles away unless her duenna were with her; and as
for a party or any evening entertainment whatever, if Teresa were to
go without her parents or this same duenna, every one in the country
around would be terribly shocked.
But now all are busy eating the breakfast the coloured waiter is
serving. First, there is a nice omelet, cooked in olive oil. Then
come pineapple jam, fish fried a delicate brown, fried bananas, fried
chicken, and a salad made of many kinds of vegetables. We must not
forget to mention the apricots stewed in honey, nor the tea steeped
with the leaves of lemon verbena. It has a delicious odour, and
Manuel's father and mother are very fond of it.
There is no butter to eat on the rolls, but the fact is, almost all
the butter in Porto Rico comes in tin cans from other countries. On
account of the hot climate, it is often rancid, so it is seldom used in
Manuel's home. The cooking is done with olive oil. Nearly everything is
fried, instead of being broiled or roasted, and no one feels the need
of butter.
Manuel and Dolores, like some other boys and girls we know, are very
fond of sweet things, so they eat a great deal of the cooked fruits on
the table. But they also seem to like the salad very much, even though
it is so hot with Cayenne pepper as to burn the mouth of any one not
used to it. But the children are accustomed to highly spiced dishes.
Our cooking would seem tasteless to them. Perhaps it is the hot climate
all the year round that makes it necessary to have strongly flavoured
foods to excite the appetite.
After this second breakfast is over, cigarettes are served, and, would
you believe it! our little Manuel, as well as his mother and older
sister, joins in a smoke. Such is the custom of his country that even
children of three or four years use tobacco. It is no wonder, then,
that as the boys and girls grow up, they have so little strength. We
are no longer surprised that Manuel does not care much for active play.
It is now the hottest part of the day. The boy and his sister play a
few games of dominoes and cards out on the veranda, and then sleepily
stretch themselves in hammocks under the palms for an afternoon nap.
Manuel's little dog, Ponce, lies on the ground by his side, ready to
bark if any stranger should come near his master.
But what do the poor children of Porto Rico do, while Manuel is taking
his "siesta," as the afternoon nap is called? They, too, are probably
having their siestas, for all classes of people rest during the hottest
part of the day. Very little business is done in the cities; the time
for work is in the early morning and late afternoon.
The coloured children of the plantation would think it a perfect feast
to have a breakfast like Manuel's. A bit of salt fish, with some
breadfruit, plantains, and coffee,--these satisfy their hunger day
after day. But in the sugar season, when the canes are ripe and full
of juice, then indeed it is hard to make the people work, whether they
are white or black. Oh, the delicious sugar-cane! there is nothing like
the pleasure of sucking it. Here and there, in every nook and corner,
one sees boys and girls, men and women, with joints of the cane in
their hands, sucking away for dear life. Then is the time to stop all
worry and grow fat.