Next morning found me with my entire dental paraphernalia packed upon the backs of a number of mules, and myself, under the escort of half-a-dozen servants, traversing the mountain trails leading around the base of the big volcano eight miles north of Santa Ana, upon the way to the “finca” of Las Flores. The journey was made without incident, though it was far into the night before we arrived, the distance traversed being something like forty-five miles. Señor Eduardo met me at the door, and after partaking of a late dinner, being very much fatigued, I retired to my room, which was situated at the extreme end of the immense building. In point of furnishings and size the place constituted a small palace. Indeed, the manner in which the wealthy owners of these South American coffee plantations have managed to gather the comforts of life and many luxuries at so great a distance from a seaport or railroad is perfectly astounding. They have practically every modern convenience, and many others which you or I have never been used to. It was late next morning when I awoke, very sore and stiff from my long ride. I found, however, that I was just in time for “coffee,” which is usually served at ten o’clock. Here I had the pleasure of meeting the members of the family, consisting of the mother, an aunt, one son, and two very charming daughters, both of whom spoke perfect English, having attended a school in the City of London for several years. I decided immediately that my four weeks’ visit was going to be very enjoyable, and I flattered myself that I had made a fairly good impression upon my hosts. Life upon the “finca” was indeed delightful. Situated as it was at an altitude of over four thousand feet above sea-level, the days and nights were exhilaratingly cool and pleasant. I soon struck up a friendship--which still lasts--with the son of the house, and we enjoyed many pleasant hours in riding over the surrounding country. To the left, adjoining the plantation, was the immense cattle ranch owned by a young man named Gonzales, who, I found out later, was very much in love with the elder of Don Eduardo’s daughters, while three leagues farther on was another coffee plantation owned by an old man named Vasquez, whose son, I understood, had been paying much attention to the younger girl. Two weeks passed very happily and speedily. Very early in my visit I became acquainted with how matters stood as regards the two courtships. The younger Vasquez, Roberto, had already proposed and had been accepted, while the other young man, Enrique, had been calling for several years--indeed, he often came two or three times a day--but as yet had never declared himself.