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.