PORTO RICO is an ideal tourist spot – a tight little, box-shaped island, filled with beautiful and interesting things. Within its 3,600 square miles Nature has gathered, in close assembly, a wondrous display of mountain and valley scenery, dense jungle and open rolling plantation lands, wild wilderness and rural settlements, primitive village life and busy modern city activities – and has cast over it all the dazzling light of the tropical sun, and set it in the brilliant blue water of a summer sea.

Porto Rico is not only convenient of access, but easy to travel over. No other West Indian island affords such a composite picture of tropical life, industries and vegetation – to be seen with so little trouble. Wonderful roads, modern methods of transportation, and a soft climate make a tour of the island an easy-going pleasure jaunt. The delight begins with the morning of arrival. The moment we see the grim old walls of Morro Castle looming up above the ultramarine sea, we feel the joy of entering a new world, in which land and water are glorified in color, and the air is fresh, fragrant and cool with tropical breezes. As we turn into the narrow harbor we see the ancient city wall, the water gate, and the weather-worn sentry boxes lining the shore, above which lies the Santa Catalina Palace, the present residence of the Governor, the somber, gray fortress of San Cristobal, and the gleaming white walls of Casa Blanca – the historic Ponce de Leon house, built in 1525. The city of San Juan (san hwahn) spreads before us like a vivid picture, extending, in varied colors and forms, up the slope of the hill. Under the glow of the morning sun, lines, forms, and surfaces – even the most commonplace structures – are transformed into objects of beauty. In spite of its antiquity, its crumbling ruins and its picturesque Spanish by-ways and nooks, it is a busy, bustling, noisy, up-to-date city, with many of the features that we are accustomed to meet with on the streets of our own home towns. Though Porto Rico is now a child of Uncle Sam's, the thing we chiefly miss in Porto Rico towns is our native language. The squawk of the automobile is familiar, and the clang of the trolley-car, but the speech of the conductor and chauffeur is the speech of a stranger. Everywhere we hear Spanish. As Charles Lamb would have said, "Even the little children speak Spanish." As a matter of plain truth, most of them scream it!

San Juan is not only a city, but an island – the off-spring of its parent island, Porto Rico. On one side, San Juan faces the Atlantic Ocean. Then, from the point where Morro Castle stands, the shore curves in so as to form a fine harbor, between the island-city, and the mainland.

When we leave the boat, we turn into the main business street – Calle San Justo (kah'-yay san yoos' -to), and our eye is caught first by an old church – the Santa Anna – which, we find, dates from the sixteenth century. Opposite it is a fine, big building – the American Bank, and on both sides are attractive little shops. A block or so from the docks, at San Francisco Street, the Plaza Principal opens up – a deeply-shaded square, surrounded by buildings and stores, somewhat like Central Park in Havana. On one side is the City Hall, built in 1799, on the other, the Intendencia (Administration) Building.