THE COFFEE-TREE.
WHEN the first white people came to Porto Rico they did not find any
coffee among the other tropical fruits. To-day it is the most valuable
product of the island, yet all the trees growing now came from a few
plants brought here nearly two hundred years ago. Perhaps you would
like to hear the story.
In the year 1714, all the coffee used in the civilised world was under
the control of the Dutch. They were very jealous of other people
growing it, but one of the governors of Amsterdam gave a single plant
to the King of France. From this plant a few others were raised and
sent across the ocean to Martinique, an island of the West Indies
belonging to France.
The voyage was long. The fresh water on board the ship nearly gave
out, but the man who had the plants in his care shared his allowance
with them. They were thus kept alive, and from them have come the
coffee-trees that cover thousands of acres of land to-day in Porto
Rico, Martinique, and the other islands.
Manuel and Dolores delight in riding through the plantation at this
season of the year; the rows of small, evenly trimmed trees, with their
glossy green leaves, are always a pretty sight. But just now they
are more beautiful than at other times, for each tree is a mass of
snow-white blossoms, filling the air with their fragrance.
Dolores's mother hires some of the coloured children to collect petals
of the coffee flowers as they drop upon the ground. She will fill jars
with them to scent her drawing-room with their perfume; but no one is
allowed to pick the blossoms from the trees, for each flower means a
berry later on in the season.
As the fruit forms, it is first green, then a pale pink, and at last a
bright red. Not all the berries ripen at the same time, as cherries do,
so the autumn picking lasts several weeks.
After they have been gathered, the berries are first washed and then
hulled by machinery. Even then, however, they are not ready for
market, for they must still be dried. At Manuel's home this is done by
spreading them on floors paved with stones, where the sun can shine
upon them; but on larger plantations it is usually done by steam or hot
air.
The men and women who work for Manuel's father are always busy, for
there are many things to do besides attending to the coffee-trees.
These stand in rows about fifteen feet apart, and between the rows
there are "catch crops," as they are called. One can see sweet
potatoes, pigeon pease, eddoes, and other vegetables.
Coffee-trees are quite tender, and need a good deal of shade when they
are young, so banana and plantain trees have been planted between the
rows to protect them from the hot sun.
Manuel's father does not pay his workmen in money; he gives them a
certain number of plantains for each day's labour. They keep enough of
this fruit to feed their families, and sell the rest in the towns near
by.
The children stop for a chat with the overseer, then ride onward to the
house, for dinner must be ready.
Just as the meal is over, and the family leave the dining-room, the
convent bells begin to ring. It is six o'clock, the time for evening
prayer, and all bow their heads in silence. Although Manuel is a little
boy, he likes these quiet moments in the day. The air is filled with
peace; it seems as though he feels God's love more fully than at any
other time.