In the early part of the nineteenth century several Spaniards began the cultivation of coffee in a little valley away at the north end of Luzon. The trees they planted were the first coffee plants ever known on the island. A small wild animal, somewhat like a weasel, somewhat like a fox, began eating and scattering the growing berries, until in this way myriads of the little creatures had unwittingly sown coffee seeds over all the island.

Some of these original plants still bear fruit, thousands of pounds being gathered from the wild bushes. Plantation owners in that vicinity, the province of Batangas, have, indeed, assured me that the trees possessed by their grandfathers are still vigorous; while it is also a well-known fact that in many other coffee-producing colonies the plants are quite exhausted by the end of the thirtieth year.

Manila coffee is highly prized in Spain and her dependencies. They have, of course, nothing so rich in flavor as the Mocha bean of Arabia, but a kind, called caracolillo, that resembles it in taste and in shape. It has only one seed to the berry, while, on the other hand, all other varieties have two.

The merchants in Manila are extremely cautious in their dealings with the provincial planters, giving the preference to coffee from CavitÉ, Batangas, and La Laguna. In Mindanao coffee is sent to the market without being looked over, the result being a distasteful compound of good and bad beans. This is sold to the unfastidious natives at very low prices, but is wholly unfit for European consumption.

CavitÉ planters—whether Spaniard or Indian—show an indifference to a dozen details that their competitors in the other provinces named are extremely particular about. They are careless in the selecting of sites for their plantations, which should be on hilly ground; careless in the choice of the soil, of the seed, in pruning, in attention to the ripe fruit; in detaching the bean from its outer coating; and, above all, in many places, careless to separate the good beans from the bad. All this is due to the inertness of the planter and to the indolence of his laborers.

And while this continues, the Philippines will never be known as one of the great coffee-producing countries of the world; though its possibilities in that direction are simply incalculable.

Coffee is a good deal of a speculation in the islands. Collectors drive about paying for crops still ungathered. Moreover, if the large planters do not produce enough to fill their contracts, they depend upon the small plots of the natives,—which will account for much variety in the bean, and for the occasional extremely-poor quality already spoken of. The money advanced is always gauged by the price per picul that coffee brought the year before in the Manila market.

For instance, if it then cost $12 a picul, $8 will be advanced to the planter on the crops in the ground. The collector always tries to protect himself by a pretty good margin. He occasionally loses, however. In one case, some years ago, coffee advanced to $31 a picul, and enormous fortunes were made.

Fluctuations are constantly occurring in the coffee market, owing to the peculiar nature of the transactions, as purchases are invariably made before the crop has come to fruition. But a startling rise like the one mentioned, is unprecedented in the history of the trade, and is hardly likely to occur again.

A coffee-site, as I have said, should be chosen on high ground, and on the side of a hill; for the reason that, while the body of the plant requires a great degree of moisture, which is given by the heavy rains of the country, the roots, on the other hand, must be kept dry.

The ground is cleared—generally by fire—and fenced in. Like hemp, the coffee tree needs careful shading, and to insure this the next process is to plant slips of the madre cacao, in straight rows, about one Spanish yard apart. When these reach the height of three feet, the coffee-shoots are placed at intervals in the holes prepared for them, having been soaked for two or three days in water.

As the plantation becomes too thick, trees and plants are removed—care being taken, however, to preserve the symmetrical appearance of the whole, as it is imperative for the health of the tree that no coffee-shoots or branches should touch one another.

In its natural state, the tree grows to the height of twenty-five feet, but constant pruning is necessary, and the tree, when properly cared for, is kept down to seven or eight feet. Returns are expected four years after planting.

There are few things more beautiful than a well-ordered coffee estate in full bloom. Straight and stately avenues cross each other in every direction. The plant has long glossy leaves, like the laurel; the blossoms are snowy-white, and in shape resemble the jasmine, and their fragrance is exquisite; while overhead the madre foliage grows dense, protecting the more delicate plant from too much sun, too pelting a storm, too wild a blast. The fruit, when ripe, is of a dark scarlet color, and the ordinary berry contains two seeds, glued together and covered with a membrane. The mocha of Arabia and the caracolillo of Manila are richer in flavor than the other varieties, and, as already stated, have but one bean, thus differing in shape from those of the ordinary berry.

The neighborhood of Lipa is noted for its wealth and for many coffee estates round about. A number of the planters there have sedulously done all in their power to attain perfection in the growing, dressing, sorting, and marketing of the bean. Along their own lines, too, they have overcome obstacles, and have effected certain success. And some of the estates are beautiful and most prosperously ordered. I have driven through them and ridden over them, and have invariably admired them, and, admiring, I have marveled at the landscape-gardening effects produced on what was seemingly so commercial a basis. Ruskin’s own ideas of beauty in every-day life and in lowly occupation can not find a more delightful and satisfying illustration than in the environment in which masses of laborers delve and toil upon some of the Lipa coffee estates.

In the Philippines the coffee berries are gathered by hand from the trees,—men, women, and children assisting in the process. The fruit is then put aside in heaps, and in a few days is washed. In this way much of the pulp is detached and discarded. The remainder is placed in a mortar and pounded until the clean bean emerges, which, in the bulk, forms the coffee of commerce. This is sent, in coarse bags of hemp, to Manila for sale.

The ripe berries, when sun-dried, lose over 50 per cent. of moisture.

The Government at Madrid, with its usual heavy, tyrannous policy, has imposed extra licenses on the planting of coffee, and laid a heavy import duty on the machinery lately introduced and used to prepare the bean for market.

The formation of the Philippine Archipelago is peculiarly adapted to the cultivation of coffee and hemp. To say it once more: Both need high altitudes, and to be grown on the sides of hills or mountains. On most of the islands a range runs north and south, rising sometimes to the height of nine thousand feet.

The laborers on a coffee estate expect to receive one-half the produce for their work in caring for the crop, which includes ploughing,—something essential to the health of the tree,—cultivating, picking, and drying the fruit, and preparing the bean for transport to Manila.

The hard methods of the Government regarding the coffee bean, the difficulties of the grower in obtaining reliable assistance, and the fluctuations of the trade will probably account for the small quantity produced under Spanish auspices. The island of Negros alone is so accessible that the coffee production there ought to be enormous. In 1897 the exportation amounted to about $250,000. Under almost any other government it would have reached $3,000,000.