Playa Del Ponce is the port of the city of Ponce, and is the shipping point for that section of the Island of Porto Rico. The town is surrounded by rich plantations of tobacco, coffee, sugarcane, and rice, also trees teeming with oranges, cocoanuts, guavas, lemons, grape-fruit, and groves of bananas and plantains. The staple production of the island is tobacco, from which is manufactured a very choice brand of cigars. The city of Ponce lies inland a distance of about three miles, and is typically Spanish in its architecture. Shortly after our arrival at Playa Del Ponce, I had occasion to take my horse in the ocean for a swim, which was great sport and beneficial to the animal. In dismounting on my return to the beach, I had the painful misfortune to tread on a thin sea shell which penetrated my heel, breaking into several pieces. On my return to the camp I found the troop surgeon had left for Ponce, so seeking the assistance of a Spanish-Porto Rican physician, one Garcia Del Valyo, I was relieved after considerable probing, of the broken pieces of shell. The wet season being in progress and our hospital facilities limited, the doctor kindly offered me quarters in his beautiful residence, and recommended to my troop commander that I remain at his home until my wound had healed. To this the officer acquiesced. I was given a room overlooking the bay on one side, with the town bounding the other; a crutch and an oil-cloth shoe were provided for me, with which I was able to hobble around with the two beautiful daughters of the old gentleman, namely, Anita and Consuelo Del Valyo. They spoke the Anglo-Saxon language fairly well and taught me my first lessons in Spanish, while I in return instructed them in my language. Both were artistes, being skilled in painting, sculpture, and music, and I often recall the happy evenings spent listening to the sweet notes of “La Paloma” as sung to the trembling tones of a mandolin accompaniment. Traditional custom permitted the piano and various Spanish songs during the day, but never “La Paloma,” wine, and the “Fandango” until after twilight. It was a picturesque sight to watch these senoritas perform the “Fandango,” clicking the castanets and gracefully tapping the tambourine as they whirled through coils of cigarette smoke.