The man who interferes in the love affairs of the passionate, hot-blooded people of Central America is likely to find he has stirred up a veritable hornets’ nest, and will be lucky if he escapes with his life. Such, at least, was Dr. Coleman’s experience in Salvador, but fortunately everything ended happily for all concerned. Those readers of THE WIDE WORLD who are familiar with my former narrative, entitled “Fallen Among Thieves,”[1] will remember that my object in going into Central America was for the purpose of practising dentistry. [1] See April, 1908, issue.--ED. While actively engaged in my profession in the Salvadorean city of Santa Ana, the following series of incidents occurred, which served to put a great deal of excitement into what might otherwise have been a somewhat humdrum existence. Before going farther it is necessary that the reader should understand some of the characteristics of the Salvadoreans, who are descendants of the ancient Spanish adventurers, with an admixture of native blood. The women, in my humble opinion, are for intelligence, character, and beauty the superiors of any other nation inhabiting the southern portion of the Western Hemisphere. As for the men, the Spanish blood seems to predominate in point of passion, for, besides being the most valiant soldier in time of war of any Central American race, the Salvadorean is also the most ardent lover and the most jealously-inclined towards his inamorata of any person upon the face of the earth. That also is my humble opinion, and that I have good grounds for my statement will presently appear. There are just two things the foreigner in Salvador must not do: he must not poke his nose into political squabbles or try to interfere in a love affair. Ten times out of ten, if you do, it will be to your very great sorrow not counting the danger you run. Now, when the wealthy coffee-planter or “hacienda” owner has need of the services of a doctor or dental surgeon he never thinks of leaving his plantation, but rounds up his mule-train, heads it with an excellent saddle animal, sends it off to the doctor, and invites the latter to pay him a visit. Experience has taught the practitioners that these invitations are very remunerative, and when the call comes business must certainly be very brisk to warrant a refusal. I, for one, have never found it advisable to decline, and so it happened that one Sunday afternoon I received a polite note requesting me to visit the Señor Don Eduardo Castillo, owner of the immense coffee plantation known as “Las Flores.” I should mention here that I have been compelled to use assumed names, for the family concerned is one of the most prominent in Salvador, and would not care for the notoriety which the publication of their name would give them.