uage is an agreeable medium for expressing the tender
passion; creole Spanish is even more suited to such a purpose, being
full of endearing epithets and affectionate diminutives. I am not
obliged to address my lady-love by her simple name of Caridad; I may
call her Caridadcita, Cachita, Chuchu, Concha, Cachona, Conchita, or
Cachumbita, and be perfectly grammatical, and at the same time fond. The
same romantic language enables me to use such pretty epithets as 'Mi
mulatica' (my little mulatto girl), 'Mi Chinita' (my little Chinawoman),
'Mi negrita' (my pretty negress).

And if these endearing epithets are found insufficient to express my
affectionate regard, I have the option of addressing my beloved in such
terms as:

Prenda de mi alma! My soul's jewel!

Botoncito de rosa! Little rose-bud!

Lucero de la manana! Dawn of the day!

Luz de mi vida! Light of my life!

Ojitos de cocuyo! Little fire-fly eyes!

Consuelo mio! My own joy!

Mi merenguito! My little merengue!

Ojitos de pega-pega! Eyes that rivet!

Mi monona! My lovely one!

Mi tormento! My little torment!

Mi consolacion! My consolation!

Hija de mi alma! Child of my soul!

and a number of expressions as choice as those quoted above.

Our conversation is carried on in epigrammatic phrases. I need not waste
words by making the long-winded inquiry, 'Do you love me?' It is
sufficient to ask simply, 'Me quieres?' And when Cachita tells me, in
reply, that her love for me may be compared to her fondness for her
mother's precious bones ('Te quiero mas que a los huesitos de mi mama'),
and when, following suit, I assure my beloved that I value her as I do
the apple of mine eye ('como la nina de mis ojos'), I know well enough
that these are only figures of speech adopted by lovers in the Spanish
tropics.

'Mi corazoncito,' says Cachita, fondly, 'I fear that your visits here
must be suspended for the present.'

'Why so, mi vida?'

'Papacito (Don Severiano) suspects something. His friend, Senor Catasus,
who passes here every evening, has seen us converse at the window more
frequently than custom allows, and he has mentioned it to papacito.'

Old Catasus has a son whom Don Severiano employs, and I fancy that his
interest in Cachita's welfare is not purely disinterested.

'Young Amador is a frequent visitor at your father's house?'

'He comes with othe