A Woman's Impressions of the Philippines

By

Mary H. Fee

To

My Schoolmate and Life-Long Friend

Martha Parry Gish

This Book

Is Affectionately Dedicated

Contents

 I. The Voyage Begins 11 II. From San Francisco to Honolulu 21 III. Our Ten Days' Sightseeing 26 IV. From Honolulu to Manila 38 V. Our First Few Days in the City 45 VI. From Manila To Capiz 60 VII. My First Experiences As a Teacher of Filipinos 73 VII. An Analysis of Filipino Character 86 IX. My Early Experiences in Housekeeping 107 X. Filipino Youths and Maidens 119 XI. Social and Industrial Condition of the Filipinos 130 XII. Progress in Politics and Improvement of the Currency 150 XIII. Typhoons and Earthquakes 168 XIV. War Alarms and the Suffering Poor 179 XV. The Filipino's Christmas Festivities and His Religion 192 XVI. My Gold-hunting Expedition 206 XVII. An Unpleasant Vacation 217 XVIII. The Aristocracy, the Poor, snd American Women 232 XIX. Weddings in Town and Country 250 XX. Sickbeds and Funerals 262 XXI. Sports and Amusements 270 XXII. Children's Games--The Conquest of Fires 280

Illustrations

 Filipino School Children _Frontispiece_ The Pali, near Honolulu 28 West Indian Rain-tree, or Monkey-pod Tree 34 The Volcano of Mayón 40 View of Corregidor 42 Swarming Craft on the Pasig River, Manila 46 "The Rat-pony and the Two-wheeled Nightmare" 48 The Luneta, Manila 52 The Bend in the River at Capiz 62 Street Scene in Romblón 64 Church, Plaza, and Public Buildings, Capiz 80 The Home of an American Schoolteacher 90 A Characteristic Group of Filipino Students 100 Filipino School Children 110 A Filipino Mother and Family 120 A Company of Constabulary Police 132 Group of Officials in front of Presidente's (Mayor's) Residence 142 A High-class Provincial Family, Capiz 148 Pasig Church 154 The Isabella Gate, Manila 162 Calle Real, Manila 174 Procession and Float in Streets of Capiz, in Honor of Filipino Patriot and Martyr, José Rizal 184 A Rich Cargo of Fruit on the Way to Market 194 A Family Group and Home in the Settled Interior 200 Filipino Children "Going Swimming" in the Rio Cagayan 212 Mortuary Chapel in Paco Cemetery, Manila 220 The "Ovens" in Paco Cemetery, Manila 228 Peasant Women of the Cagayan Valley 236 A Wedding Party Leaving the Church 252 A Funeral on Romblón Island 264 Bicol School Children One Generation Removed from Savagery 272 Sunset over Manila Bay 282

CHAPTER I

The Voyage Begins

I Find the Transport Ship _Buford_ and My Stateroom--Old Maidsand Young Maids Bound for the Orient--The Deceitful Sea--Making NewFriends and Acquaintances. 

On a hot July day the army transport _Buford_ lay at the FolsomDock, San Francisco, the Stars and Stripes drooping from her stern, her Blue Peter and a cloud of smoke announcing a speedy departure, and a larger United States flag at her fore-mast signifying that shewas bound for an American port. I observed these details as I hurrieddown the dock accompanied by a small negro and a dressing-bag, butI was not at that time sufficiently educated to read them. I thoughtonly that the _Buford_ seemed very large (she is not large, however), that she was beautifully white and clean; and that I was delightedto be going away to foreign lands upon so fine a ship. 

Having recognized with relief a pile of luggage going aboard--luggagewhich I had carefully pasted with red, white, and blue labels crossedby the letters "U. S. A. T. S. " and _Buford_--I dismissed the negro, grasped the dressing-bag with fervor, and mounted the gangway. To methe occasion was momentous. I was going to see the world, and I wasone of an army of enthusiasts enlisted to instruct our little brownbrother, and to pass the torch of Occidental knowledge several degreeseast of the international date-line. 

I asked the first person I met, who happened to be the third officer, where I should go and what I should do. He told me to report atthe quartermaster's office at the end of the promenade deck. Awhite-haired, taciturn gentleman in the uniform of a major, U. S. A. , was occupying this apartment, together with a roly-poly clerk in a blueuniform which seemed to be something between naval and military. When Imentioned my name and showed my order for transportation, the seniorofficer grunted inarticulately, and waved me in the direction ofhis clerk, glaring at me meanwhile with an expression which combinedsingularly the dissimilar effects of a gimlet and a plane. The rotundjunior contented himself with glancing suspiciously at the order andsternly at me. As if reassured, however, by my plausible countenance, he flipped over the pages of a ledger, told me the number of mystateroom, and hunted up a packet of letters, which he deliveredwith an acid reproof to me for not having reported before, sayingthat the letters had been accumulating for ten days. 

It is true that the _Buford_ had been scheduled to sail on the firstday of the month; but I had arrived a day or two before that date, onlyto learn that the sailing date had been postponed to the tenth. I hadmade many weary trips to the army headquarters in Montgomery Street, asking for mail--and labels--with no results. Nobody had suggestedthat the mail would be delivered aboard ship, and I had not hadsense enough to guess it. I did not make any explanations to thequartermaster and his clerk, however, because an intuition warnedme not to add tangible evidence to a general belief in civilianstupidity. I merely swallowed my snubbing meekly and walked off. 

I ambled about, clinging to the dressing-bag and looking for some oneresembling a steward. At the foot of the ladder leading to the bridgeI encountered two young girls descending therefrom with evidences ofembarrassed mirth. They were Radcliffe girls, whose evil genius hadled them to the bridge and to an indignant request to explain theirpresence there. They explained to no purpose, and, in response to aplaintive inquiry where to go, were severely told, "We don't know, but go down from here immediately. " So they came down, crimson butgiggling, and saw me (they said) roaming about with an expression atonce wistful and complacent. 

I found a steward and my stateroom at last, and a brown-haired, brown-eyed young woman in it who was also a pedagogue. We introducedourselves, disposed of our parcels, and began to discuss thepossibilities of the voyage. She was optimistically certain thatshe was not going to be seasick. I was pessimistically certain thatI was. And she was wrong, and I was right. We were both gloriously, enthusiastically, madly seasick. 

When we returned to the deck, it was crowded with passengers, themail was coming aboard, and all sorts of bugle-calls were sounding, for we were carrying "casuals. " It was a matter of wonder that somany persons should have gathered to bid adieu to a passenger listrecruited from all parts of the Union. The dock was black with people, and our deck was densely crowded. Khaki-clad soldiers leaned over theside to shout to more khaki on the dock. An aged, poorly dressed womanwas crying bitterly, with her arms about the neck of a handsome boy, one of our cabin passengers; and all about, the signs of intensefeeling showed that the voyage marked no light interval of separation. 

I stood at the forward rail of the promenade deck, and fell intoconversation with a gentleman whom I had met in San Francisco andwho was a fellow passenger. We agreed in being glad that none of ourrelatives were there to see us off; but, though we made much adoto seem matter-of-fact and quite strong-minded about expatriatingourselves, I noticed that he cleared his throat a great deal, and mychin annoyed me by a desire to tremble. 

The gongs warned visitors ashore, and, just as all the whistles of SanFrancisco were blowing the noon hour, we backed away from the dock, and turned our head to sea. As the little line of green water betweenship and dock widened to a streamlet and then to a river, the firstqualm concerning the wisdom of the expedition struck its chilly wayto my heart. Probably most of the passengers were experiencing thesame doubts; and the captain suspected the fact, for he gave us firedrill just to distract our attention and to settle our nerves. 

The luncheon gong sounded immediately after his efficacious diversion, and the military people who were to eat in the first section--the_Buford's_ dining-room was small--went down to lunch. The juniorlieutenants, and the civil engineers and schoolteachers, who made upher civilian list, took their last look at San Francisco. We swungpast Alcatraz Island and heard the army bugles blowing there. Theirregular outline of the city with its sky-scrapers printed itselfagainst a background of dazzling blue, with here and there a tuftycloud. The day was symbolic of the spirit which sent young Americaacross the Pacific--hope, brilliant hope, with just a cloud of doubt. 

We passed the Golden Gate just as our own luncheon gong sounded, andthe _Buford_ was rolling to the heave of the outside sea as we satdown to our meal. At our own particular table we were eight--eightnice old (and young) maid schoolteachers. Some of us were plump andsome were wofully thin. One was built on heroic lines of bone, andthose sinners from Radcliffe were pretty. 

Toward the end of luncheon the _Buford_ began to roll and pitchand otherwise behave herself "most unbecoming, " and my room-mate, declining to finish her luncheon, fled to the deck, where the airwas fresher. Feeling no qualms myself, and secretly triumphing in herdisillusion, I followed with her golf cape and rug, of which she hadbeen too engrossed to think. My San Francisco acquaintance coming tomy assistance, we established her in a steamer chair and sat down, one on each side, to cheer her up, --and badly she needed it, for hercourage was fast deserting her. 

The sea was running heavily, and the wind was cold; I had not thoughtthere could be such cold in July. The distance was obscured by asilvery haze which was not thick enough to be called a fog, butwhich lent a wintry aspect to sea and sky--a likeness increased bythe miniature snow-field on each side of the bow as the water flungup and melted away in pools like bluish-white snow ice. 

As the _Buford_ waded into the swell, wave after wave dashed over theforward deck, drenching a few miserable soldiers there, who preferredto soak and freeze rather than to go inside and be seasick. Sometimesthe spray leaped hissing up on the promenade deck, and our weatherside was dripping, as I found when I went over there. I also slippedand fell down, but as that side of the ship was deserted, nobody sawme--to my gratification. I petted a bruised shin a few minutes andwent back to the lee side a wiser woman. 

About three o'clock, when Miss R----'s face was assuming a fine, corpse-like green tint, I began to have a hesitating and unhappysensation in the pit of the stomach, a suggestion of doubt as to thewisdom of leaving the solid, reliable land, and trusting myself to thefickle and deceitful sea. In a few moments these disquieting hints hadgrown to a positive clamor, and my head and heels were feeling verymuch as do those of gentlemen who have been dining out with "terrapinand seraphim" and their liquid accompaniments. At this time Miss R----gave out utterly and went below, but I was filled with the idea thatseasickness can be overcome by an effort of will, and stayed on, making an effort to "demonstrate, " as the Christian Scientists say, and trying to look as if nothing were the matter. The San Francisco manremained by me, persistent in an apparently disinterested attempt toentertain me; but I was not deluded, for I recognized in his devotionthe fiendish joy of the un-seasick watching the unconfessed torturesof those who are. 

It was five o'clock when I gasped with a last effort of facetiousmisery, "And yet they say people come to sea for their health, " andwent below. The Farralones Islands, great pinky-gray needles of bleakrock, were sticking up somewhere in the silvery haze on our starboardside, and I loathed the Farralones Islands, and the clean white ship, and myself most of all for embarking upon an idiotic voyage. 

Arrived in the stateroom, it was with little less than horror that Isaw Miss R---- in the lower berth--my berth. Such are the brutalizinginfluences of seasickness that I immediately reminded her that herswas above. She dragged herself out, and, in a very ecstasy of selfishmisery, I discarded my garments and burrowed into the warmth of mybed. Never had blankets seemed more comfortable, for, between thewind and the seasickness, I was chilled through and through. 

I fell asleep through sheer exhaustion, and wakened some time afterin darkness. The waves were hissing and slapping at the porthole;the second steward was cursing expertly in the linen closet, whichhappened to be opposite our stateroom; and somewhere people in goodhealth were consuming viands, for cooking odors and the rattle ofdishes came to us. A door in the corridor opened, and the sound ofa cornet was wafted back from the forward deck. Somebody was playing"The Holy City. " Steps went by. A voice with an English accent said, "By Jove, you can't get away from that tune, " and, in one of thoseinstants of stillness which fall in the midst of confusion, I hearda gurgling moan. 

I snapped on the light and turned--at what cost only the seasickcan appreciate--to behold Miss R---- sitting on the floor with herback to the wall. She was still shrouded in her golf cape and hood, and contemplated her boots--which were on her feet, sticking straightout before her--as if they were a source of mental as well as bodilyinconvenience. At intervals she rolled her head and gave utteranceto that shuddering moan. 

Wretched as I was, I could not help gasping, "Are you enjoying yoursea trip?" and she replied sepulchraily, "It isn't what it's crackedup to be. " We could say no more. That time we groaned in unison. 

She must have gathered strength of mind and body in the night, however, for she was in her berth next morning when the stewardess came into know what we wanted for breakfast. We did not want anything, aswe quickly made reply. The wind went down that day; the next day waswarm and clear, with a sea like sapphire, and we dragged ourselves tothe deck. Recovery set in quickly enough then, so that we began to"think scornful" of seasickness. Fortunately the good ship _Buford_ploughed her way across the Pacific without meeting another swell, and our pride was not humbled again. We ate quite sparingly fora meal or two, and had fits of abstraction, gazing at the ceilingwhen extra-odorous dishes were placed in front of us. The Radcliffegirls said that they had passed a strenuous night, engaged in wildmanoeuvres to obtain possession of the monkey wrench and feloniously tosecrete the same. Their collegiate training had included instructionon the hygienic virtues of fresh air, which made no allowance for asea trip; and their views as to the practical application of theseprinciples came sadly into conflict with the ideas of their bedroomsteward. There were frantic searchings for a monkey wrench all thatnight, while the article lay snugly bestowed between the mattresses ofa maiden who looked as if she might be thinking of the angels. Alsotheir porthole was open in defiance of orders, and much water cameinto their stateroom. But they did not care, for it brought freshair with it. 

The first two or three days of the voyage were spent in taking stockof our fellow passengers and in finding our friends. We were aboutseventy-five cabin passengers in all, --a small family, it is true. Theship was coaled through to Manila, the first stop being Guam. So wemade acquaintance here and there, settling ourselves for no paltryfive or six days' run, but for a whole month at sea. We all cameon deck and took our fourteen laps--or less--around the promenadedeck before breakfast. The first two or three nights, with a sort ofcongregational impulse, we drifted forward under the promenade awnings, and sang to the accompaniment of the cornetist on the troop deck. Thesoldiers sang too, and many an American negro melody, together with "Onthe Road to Mandalay" and other modern favorites, floated melodiouslyinto the starlit silence of the Pacific. Our huge windsail flappedor bellied as the breeze fell or rose; the waves thumped familiarlyagainst the sides; the masthead lantern burned clear as a star;and the real stars swung up and down as the bowsprit curtsied toeach wave. In the intervals between songs a hush would fall upon us, and the sea noises were like effects in a theatre. 

In a few days, however, our shyness and strangeness wore off. We nolonger sang with the soldiers, but segregated ourselves into congenialgroups; and under the electric lights the promenade deck looked, for all the world, like the piazza of a summer hotel. 

CHAPTER II

From San Francisco to Honolulu

We Change Our Course and Arrive at Honolulu--The City Viewed fromthe Sea--Its Mixed Population--We Are Detained Ten Days For EngineRepairs. 

When we were a week out from San Francisco and were eight hundred ora thousand miles north of the Hawaiian Islands, the _Buford_ stoppedone evening just at sunset, and for at least twenty minutes sloppedabout in the gentle swell. There is a curious sense of dulness when theengines cease droning and throbbing; and the passengers, who had justcome up from dinner, were affected by the unusual silence. We hung overthe rail, talking in subdued tones and noting the beauty of the sunset. 

Behind us the sea lay purple and dark, with the same sad, sweetloneliness that a prairie has in the dusk; but between us and the sunit resembled a molten mass, heaving with sinister power. Our bowspritpointed straight at the fiery ball hanging on the sky rim, above whicha pyramidal heaping of clouds aped the forms of temples set on rockyheights. And from that fantastic mingling of gold and pink and yellowthe sky melted into azure streaked with pearl, and faded at the zenithinto what was no color but night--the infinity of space unlighted. 

When the engines started up, the gorgeous picture swung around untilit stood on what is technically called the starboard beam, whereuponone of the engineers called my attention to the fact that we hadchanged our course. Since we were then headed due south, he added, we must be bound for Honolulu. 

Everybody was pleased, though there was some little anxiety to know thecause of this disregard of orders and of our turning a thousand milesout of our course. In an ordinary merchant ship doubtless somebodywould have been found with the temerity to ask the captain or someother officer what was the matter, but nobody was fool enough to dothat on an army transport. The "ranking" officer aboard was ratherintimate with the quartermaster captain, and we hoped something mightbe found out through him; but if the quartermaster made any confidencesto the officer, that worthy kept them to himself. We women went tobed with visions of fire in the hold, or of "tail shafts" ready tobreak and race. The night passed tranquilly, however, and the nextmorning there was no perceptible anxiety about the officers. As the_Buford's_ record runs were about two hundred and sixty miles a day, the remembrance that something was wrong had almost faded beforeHonolulu was in sight. 

We arrived at Honolulu during the night, and, the steward afterwardssaid, spent the second half of it "prancing" up and down outside thebar, waiting for the dawn. A suspicion that the staid _Buford_ couldprance anywhere would have brought me out of bed. I did rise onceon my elbow in response to an excited whisper from the upper berth, in time to see a dazzle of electric lights swing into view throughthe porthole and vanish as the vessel dipped. 

I dressed in time to catch the last of the sunrise, but when I went ondeck, found that nearly half the passengers had been more enterprisingthan I. We were at anchor in the outer harbor, and Honolulu lay beforeus in all the enchantment of a first tropical vision. A mountain ofpinky-brown volcanic soil--they call it Diamond Head--ran out intothe sea on the right, and, between it and another hill which lookslike an extinct crater and is called the Punch Bowl, a beach curvedinward in a shining line of surf and sand. Back of this line lay sometwo or three miles of foreshore, covered with palm-trees and glossytropical vegetation, from which peeped out the roofs and towers of theresidence portion of the city. There were mountains behind the town, jagged sierra-like peaks with clefts and gorges between. They wereterraced half-way up the sides and were covered with the light greenof crops and the deeper green of forests. Tatters of mist drapedthem here and there, while clouds lowered in half a dozen spots, and we could see the smoky lines of as many showers in brisk operation. 

On our left the shipping lay clustered about the wharfs, sendingits tracery of masts into the clear sky; and all around glowed thebeauty of a shallow harbor, coral-fringed. From the sapphire of thewater in our immediate vicinity, the sea ranged to azure and applegreen, touched by a ray of sunlight into a flashing mirror here, heaping into snow wreaths of surf there; and against this play ofcolor loomed the swart bulk of the Pacific Mail steamer _Coptic_, flying her quarantine flag. 

We watched the doctor's launch go out to her, saw the flag falland the belch of smoke as she started shoreward, while the launchcame on to us. In a little while we too were creeping toward thedocks. Naked Kanaka boys swam out to dive for pennies. The buildingson the shore took shape. The crowd on the dock shaped itself into abody of normal-looking beings, interspersed with ladies in kimonoswho were carrying babies on their backs (the Japanese population ofHonolulu is very large), and with other dark-skinned ladies in MotherHubbards decorated with flower wreaths. There were also numerousgentlemen of a Comanche-like physiognomy, who wore ordinary dress, but were distinguished by flower wreaths in lieu of hat bands. Hereand there Chinese women loafed about, wearing trousers of a kind ofblack oilcloth, and leading Chinese babies dressed in more colors thanJoseph's coat--grass-green, black, azure, and rose. In the backgroundseveral army wagons were filled with officers in uniform and withwhite-clad American women. 

We schoolteachers lost no time when the boat was once tied up at thedock, for it was given out that some trifling repairs were to be madeto the boat's engines and that we should sail the next day. We sailed, in point of fact, just ten days later, for the engines had to be takendown to be repaired. As the notice of departure within twenty-fourhours was pasted up every day afresh, it held our enthusiasm forsight-seeing at a feverish pitch. 

CHAPTER III

Our Ten Days' Sightseeing

The Fish Market--We Are Treated to Poi--We Visit the Stores--HawaiianCuriosities--The Southern Cross--Our Trip to the Dreadful Pali--TheRescue--The Flowers and Trees of Honolulu--The Mango Tree and ItsFruit. 

My first impressions of Honolulu were disappointing. I had been, in mychildhood, a fascinated peruser of Mark Twain's "Roughing It, " and hispicture of Honolulu--or rather my picture formed from his descriptionof it--demanded something novel in foliage and architecture, anda great acreage of tropical vegetation. What we really found wasa modern American city with straight streets, close-clipped lawns, and frame houses of various styles of architecture leaning chieflyto the gingerbread, and with a business centre very much like thatof a Western town. Only after three or four days did the charm andindividuality of Honolulu make themselves felt. 

To leave the dock, we had to pass through the fish market, which lookedlike any other fish market, but seemed to smell worse. When we lookedat the fish, however, we almost forgot the odors, for they were as manytinted as a rainbow. Coral red, silver, blue, blue shot with purple, they seemed to tell of sun-kissed haunts under wind-ruffled surfacesor of dusky caves within the underworld of branching coral. It ishard to be sentimental about fish, but for the space of two minutesand a half we quite mooned over the beauty fish of Honolulu. 

Leaving the market, we came upon a _ley_ woman who wanted to throwa heavy wreath of scented flowers about the neck of each of us at aconsideration of twenty cents per capita. She was a fat old woman whoused many alluring gestures and grinned coquettishly; but we wereadamant to her pleadings, and seeing a street car jingling towardus--one of the bobtailed mule variety--we left her to try her wiles ona fresh group from our boat, and hailed the street car. As we entered, one passenger remarked audibly to another, "I see another transportis in, " which speech lowered my spirits fifty degrees. I hate to beso obvious. 

Under that nightmare of threatened departure we went flyingfrom place to place. In the first store which we entered we weretreated to _poi_--a dish always offered to the stranger as a markof hospitality--and partook of it in the national manner; that is, we stuck our forefingers in the _poi_, and each then sucked herown digit. _Poi_ is made from taro root, and tastes mouldy. It isexceedingly nasty--nobody would want two dips. 

The stores were just like those of the United States, and theonly commercial novelties which we discovered were chains made ofexquisitely tinted shells, which came from somewhere down in the SouthSeas, and other chains made of coral and of a berry which is hard andred and looks like coral. At the Bishop Museum, however, we foundan interesting collection of Malaysian curios and products--birds, beasts, fishes, weapons, dress, and domestic utensils. Among thedress exhibits were cloaks made of yellow feathers, quite priceless(I forget how many thousand birds were killed to make each cloak);and among the household utensils were wooden bowls inlaid with humanteeth. It was a humorous conceit on the part of former Hawaiian kingsthus to compliment a defunct enemy. 

There was a dance that night at the Hawaiian Hotel in honor ofour passengers, most of whom attended, leaving me almost a solitarypassenger aboard. Those happy sinners from Radcliffe went off in theirbest frocks. I lay in a steamer chair on the afterdeck, scanningthe heavens for the Southern Cross. I counted, as nearly as I canremember, about eight arrangements of stars that might have beensaid to resemble crosses. Not one of them was it, however. Later, I made acquaintance with the Cross, and I must say it has been muchoverrated by adjective-burdened literature. It does not blaze, andit is lop-sided, and it is not magnificent in the least. It consistsof five stars in the form of an irregular diamond, and it is not halfso cross-like as the so-called False Cross. 

Next morning the military band came down and gave us an hour's concerton the promenade deck. We sat about under the awnings with our novelsor our sewing or our attention. At the end they played the "StarSpangled Banner, " and we all stood up, the soldiers at attention, hat on breast. One of the passengers refused to take off his hat, so that we had something to gossip about for another hour. 

In the afternoon we took a ride up Pacific Heights on the trolleycar. Pacific Heights is a residence suburb where the houses are likethose on the Peak at Hong Kong, clinging wherever they can get room onthe steep sides of the mountain. The view of the city and of the blueharbor dotted with ships was beautiful. In the evening we went to aband concert in Emma Square, and on the third day made our memorabletrip to the Pali. 

We had been hearing of the Pali ever since we landed. It is acliff approached by a gorge, whence one of those unpronounceableand unspellable kings once drove his enemies headlong into thesea. We could not miss a scene so provocative of sensations as this, so several of us teachers and an army nurse or two packed ourselvesinto a wagonette for the journey. We started bright and early, oras near bright and early as is possible when one eats in the secondsection and the first section sits down to breakfast at eight o'clock. 

Our driver was a shrewd, kindly, gray-haired old Yankee, cherishinga true American contempt for all peoples from Asia or the southof Europe. He was conversational when we first started, but hisevident desire to do the honors of Honolulu handsomely was chilledby a suggestion from one of the saints that, when we should arrivein the suburbs, he would let down the check-reins. The horses weresturdy brutes, not at all cruelly checked; but the saint could notrise superior to habit. Unfortunately she made the request withthat blandly patronizing tone which in time becomes second natureto kindergartners. Its insinuating blandness ruffled our Jehu, whoopined that his horses were all right, and that he could look aftertheir comfort without any assistance. He did not say anything about oldmaids, but the air was surcharged with his unexpressed convictions, sothat all of our cohort who were over thirty-five were reduced to a kindof abject contrition for having been born, and for having continued tolive after it was assured that we were destined to remain incomplete. 

We drove through the beautiful Nuuana Avenue with its velvet lawns, and magnificent trees, and then wound up the steep valley between theterraced gardens of the mountain-sides. Not a hundred yards away ashower drove by and hung a silver curtain like the gauze one which isused to help out scenic effects in a theatre; and presently anotherswept over us and drenched us to the skin. Half a dozen times in theupward journey we were well soaked, but we dried out again as soonas the hot sun peeped forth. We did not mind, but tucked our hatsunder the seats and took our drenchings in good part. 

At last we arrived at a point where the road turned abruptly arounda sharp peak, the approach to which led through a gorge formed by asecond mountain on the left. We could tell that there was a precipicebeyond, because we could see the remains of a fence which had beenrecently broken on the left, or outside, part of the road. The driverstopped some twenty-five or thirty yards outside the gorge, sayingthat he could approach no nearer, as the velocity of the wind in thecleft made it dangerous. Our subsequent experiences led me to doubthis motive in not drawing nearer, and to accredit to him a hatefulspirit of revenge. 

We alighted in another of those operatic showers, and made our wayto the gorge, laughing and dashing the rain drops from our faces. Wewere not conscious of any particular force of wind, but no soonerwere we within those towering walls of rock than a demon power beganto tear us into pieces and to urge us in the direction of the brokenfence. The first gust terrified us, and with universal feminine assentwe clutched at our skirts and screamed. 

The next blast sent combs and hairpins flying, drove our wet hairabout our faces, and forced us to release our garments, which behavedmost shockingly. I saw a kind of recess in the cliffs to the rightunder an overhanging shelf of rock, and, though it was approachedby a mud puddle, made straight for it and in temporary quiet let gomy threshing skirts and braided my hair. I could see our driver inthe distance, pretending to look after his harness, and indulging inhyæna mirth at the figures we cut. Then, to make matters worse, therecame a shout from the hidden road to the right, and, three abreast, aparty of young civil engineers from our ship charged round the corner. 

Most of our party sat down in their tracks, and a stifled but heartfeltmoan escaped from more than one. I waded three inches deeper into themud puddle and flattened myself against a wall of oozy rock with anutterly unfeminine disregard of consequences. 

The men were of a thoroughly good sort, however, and, ignoring ourplight, insisted on helping us round the corner. They said that, once we were out of the gorge and on the other face of the mountain, the strong draught ceased. So each woman took a frenzied grasp of herskirts, and, with an able-bodied man steadying her on each side, madethe run and brought up safe on the other side. There did not seem tobe much to see--nothing but the precipitous face of the cliff toweringabove us, the road cut out of it, winding steeply down to the right, and the shoulder of the left-hand peak running up into a cloud-sweptsky. Below us was a floor of mist, swaying to unfelt airs, heaving, gray, and sad. 

Just about this time a Chinaman arrived--one of the beast-of-burdensort--with two immense baskets swung across his shoulders on a bamboopole. He made three ineffectual efforts to get round the point, buthad to fall on his knees each time, as the wind threatened to sweep himtoo near the cliff. So the philanthropic youths went to his assistanceas they had come to ours, and piloted him safely round the bend. Webecame so much interested in this operation and in the Chinaman'sefforts to express his thanks that we quite forgot our disappointmentat the Pali's unkind behavior. A sudden gleam of sunshine recalledus. The clouds which had been dripping down upon us were rent apartto reveal a long streamer of blue, and to give passage to a shaftof sunlight which drove resistlessly through the mist floor. The fogparted shudderingly, silently, and for a moment we looked down into abeautiful valley, green and with a thousand other tints and shades, and set in a great inward curve, beyond which the sea raced up infrothy billows to the clean white sands. Far beneath us as it was, we could detect the flashes on wet foliage; indeed, I could think ofnothing but a cup of emerald rimmed with sapphire and studded withbrilliants. For an all too brief space it quivered and shimmeredunder the sunburst, and then the mist floor closed relentlessly, the heavens grayed again, and another downpour set in. 

We waited long, but the Pali declined to be wooed into sight again, noram I certain that we were the losers thereby. The whole effect was sobrief and vivid that our pleasure in it was greatly intensified. Longervision might have brought out details which we missed, but it wouldhave converted into the memory of a beautiful scene that which hasremained a peep into fairyland. 

Our return through the gorge was accompanied by all the originaldrawbacks. Our driver had released the check-reins of the horses, but he ostentatiously checked them up again as we appeared. He hadentirely recovered his good humor, and contemplated our dishevelledappearance with secret glee. 

The Pali has its good features, but it must be admitted there aredrawbacks. Among the military people aboard there was a lady ofuncertain age, and of a mistaken conception of what was becoming toher fading charms. She was gaunt, and leathery of skin, and she wore"baby necks" and elbow sleeves, and affected childish simplicityand perennial youth. On our first night out of Honolulu I happenedto come around the corner of the promenade deck in time to observeone of the men passengers contemplating this lady, who stood at somedistance from him, attired in a rather _décolleté_ frock. The man'sattitude was a modified edition of that of the Colossus of Rhodes: Hesteadied a cigarette between his lips with the third and fourth fingersof his left hand, while his right hand was thrust into his trouserspocket. A peculiar expression lingered on his countenance--kind ofstruggle between a painful memory and a judicial estimate. He was soabsorbed in his musings that he did not notice me, and he spoke aloud. 

"I knew she was thin, " he said, "but even with her low-necked dresses, I did not think that it was as bad as it is. "

I beat a retreat without attracting his attention, but I understoodhim, for I had seen him on the back seat of an army ambulance in theclutches of the perennially youthful lady, starting for the Pali. 

We left Honolulu with the modified regret which always must beentertained when other lands are beckoning. The native custom ofadorning departing friends with wreaths of flowers was followed, and some of our army belles were almost weighed down with circlets ofblossoms cast over their heads by admiring officers of Honolulu. Onceclear of the dock and out of eye range, they shamelessly cast thesetokens away, and the deck stewards gathered up the perfumed heaps andthrew them overboard. The favorite flowers used in these _ley_, orwreaths, were the creamy white blossoms with the golden centre fromwhich the perfume frangipani is extracted. This flower is known inthe Philippines as _calachuchi_. There were also some of the yellow, bell-shaped flowers called "campanilo, " and a variety of the hibiscuswhich we learned to call "coral hibiscus, " but which in the Philippinesis known as _arana_, or spider. 

The flowers of Honolulu and Manila seem very much alike. In neitherplace is there a wide variety of garden flowers, but there is anabundance of flowering shrubs and trees. 

One quite common plant is the bougainvillaea, which climbs overtrellises or trees, and covers them with its mass of magentablossoms. The scarlet hibiscus, either single or double, and theso-called coral hibiscus grow profusely and attain the size of alarge lilac bush. There is another bush which produces clusters oftiny, star-like flowers in either white or pink. It is called in thePhilippines "santan, " but I do not know its name in Honolulu. 

Catholic missionaries were instrumental in introducing into theHawaiian Islands a tree of hardy and beautiful foliage which hasthrived and now covers a great part of the mountain slopes. This isthe algoroda tree, the drooping foliage of which is suggestive of aweeping willow. Then there is the beautiful West Indian rain-tree, which the Honolulu people call the monkey-pod tree, and which inthe Philippines is miscalled _acacia_. Its broad branches extendoutward in graceful curves, the foliage is thick but not crowded, and it is an ideal shade tree, apart from the charm of its blossomsof purplish pink. 

The fire-tree and the mango are two others which are a joy to all truelovers of trees. The fire-tree is deciduous, and loses its leaves inDecember, In April or May, before the leaves come back, it bursts intobloom in great bunches of scarlet about the size of the flower massof the catalpa tree. The bark is white, and as the tree attains thesize of a large maple, the sight of this enormous bouquet is somethingto be remembered. When the leaves come back, the foliage is thick, and the general appearance of the tree is like that of a locust. 

Among tropical trees, however, the most beautiful is the mango. Itsshape is that of a sharply domed bowl. The leaves are glossy andthickly clustered. It is distinguishable at a long distance by itsdignity and grace. But the mass of its foliage is a drawback, inasmuchas few trunks can sustain the weight; and one sees everywhere the greattrunk prostrate, the roots clinging to the soil, and the upper branchesdoing their best to overcome the disadvantages of a recumbent position. 

We ate our first mangoes in Honolulu, and were highly disgusted withthem, assenting without murmur to the statement that the liking ofmangoes is an acquired taste. I had a doubt, to which I did not giveutterance, of ever acquiring the taste, but may as well admit thatI did acquire it in time. The only American fruit resembling a mangoin appearance is the western pawpaw. The mango is considerably largerthan the pawpaw, and not identical in shape, though very like it insmooth, golden outer covering. When the mango is ripe, its meat isyellow and pulpy and quite fibrous near the stone, to which it adheresas does a clingstone peach. It tastes like a combination of apple, peach, pear, and apricot with a final merger of turpentine. At firstthe turpentine flavor so far dominates all others that the consumeris moved to throw his fruit into the nearest ditch; but in time itdiminishes, and one comes to agree with the tropical races in theopinion that the mango is the king of all fruits. 

CHAPTER IV

From Honolulu to Manila

Voyaging over the Tropical Seas--We Touch at Guam, or Guahan, Oneof the Ladrone Islands--Our First Sight of the Philippines--Manila, "A Mass of Towers, Domes, and White-painted Iron Roofs Peeping Outof Green"--Dispersion of the Passengers. 

From Honolulu to Guam we crept straight across in the equatorialcurrent, blistering hot by day, a white heat haze dimming the horizon, and an oily sea, not blue, but purple, running in swells so long andgentle that one could perceive them only by watching the rail changeits angle. Once we saw a whale spout; several times sharks followedus, attracted by the morning's output of garbage; and at intervalsflying fish sallied out in sprays of silver. Once or twice we passedthrough schools of skate, which, when they came under our lee, hada curiously dazzling and phosphorescent appearance. One of the civilengineers aboard called them phosphorescent skate, but I had my doubts, for I noticed that bits of paper cast overboard would assume the sameopalescent tints when three or four feet down in the water. 

We had also the full moon, leaving a great shining pathway in ourwake at night, and flooding us with unreal splendor. The pale starsswung up and down as the _Buford_ slipped over each wave, and littleripples of breeze cooled the weather side of the ship. By this timewe were a thoroughly assorted company. The afterdeck was yieldedto flirtatious married ladies whose husbands were awaiting them inManila, while we sobersides and the family groups gathered underthe awnings. We sang no more; but the indefatigable cornetist onthe troop deck still entertained his fellows, while occasionallya second steward stole out with a mandolin, and struggled with theintermezzo from "Cavalleria. " We did not run out of talk, however, and the days went by all too swiftly. 

Of Guam I can only say that it struck me as the most desolate spotI had ever seen. It stays in my memory as a long peninsula, orspit of land, running out into the sea, with a ten or twelve-footbank above, fringed with ragged cocoanut trees. Back of this theland rose gradually into low hills. There was a road leading to thetown some eight miles inland, and four-mule ambulances dashed up anddown this. We had to anchor three miles off shore on account of coralreefs. We had commissary stores to land, and our navigator captain losthis temper, because the only available lighter in Guam was smashed by afalling bundle of pig iron the first thing. For a while the outlook forfresh provisions in Guam was a sorry one, for our captain vowed by allhis saints that he would up anchor and away at four o'clock. The glassindicated a change of weather, and he was unwilling to risk his shipin the labyrinth of coral reefs that encircles the island. Fortunatelya German tramp whaler dropped into harbor at this point for water, and some boats were obtained from her--though I could never see why, for we had plenty of our own. The unloading process went on briskly, and toward noon the U. S. Gunboat _Yorktown_ came in to pay a call; thusthere were actually three vessels at one time in the harbor of Guam. 

Such a repletion of visitors had never been known there. The four-mulewagons seemed crazed with excitement. The enthusiasm even spread to thenatives, who hung about in dug-outs, offering to sell us cocoanuts, pineapples, and green corn. Our captain kept his word, for at fouro'clock we swung about and left Guam behind us. Our passenger listwas richer by several political prisoners who had been in exile andwere returning to their native land--whether for trial or for freedom, I have no knowledge. 

Some five or six days later, it was rumored that we should pick up thelight on the southeast coast of Luzon about midnight, and most of usstayed up to see it. We also indulged in the celebration without whichfew passenger ships can complete a long voyage. We had a paper andit was read, after which ceremonial the ship's officers invited us topartake of sandwiches and lemonade in the dining-room. The refreshmentswere considerably better than the paper, which was neither wise norwitty, but abounded in those commonplace personalities to which theimagination of amateur editors usually soars. 

About 2 A. M. , when yawns were growing harder and harder to conceal, the light made its appearance. I counted three flashes and went below. 

Next morning, we were hugging the coast of Albay abreast the volcanoof Mayon, said to be the most perfect volcanic cone in the world. Itseems to rise straight from the sea; with its perfectly sloping sidesand a summit wreathed in delicate vapors, it is worthy of the pridewith which it is regarded by the Filipinos. 

Then we entered the Strait of San Bernardino, between Luzon and Samar, and passed for a day through a region of isles. The sea was glassysave when a school of porpoises tore it apart in their pursuit ofthe flying fish. On its deep sapphire the islands seemed to float, sometimes a mere pinnacle of rock, sometimes a cone-shaped peaktimbered down to the beach where the surf fell over. Toward evening, when the breeze freshened slightly, we seemed almost to brush thesides of some of these islets, and they invited us with sparklingpools and coves, with beaches over which the sea wimpled, and withgrassy hillsides running out into promontories above cliffs of volcanicrock. Thatched villages nestled in the clefts of the larger islands, or a fleet of paraos might be drawn up in a curving bay. And, yonderin the golden west, shimmering, dancing, in rosy-tinted splendor, moreislands beckoned us to the final glory of a matchless day--cloudsheaped on clouds, outlined in thin threads of gold, and drawing, in broad shafts of smoky flame, the vapors of an opal sea. At thattime I had not seen the famous Inland Sea of Japan, but I have sincepassed through it twice, and feel that in beauty the Strait of SanBernardino has little to yield to her far-famed neighbor. 

Next day we crept up the coast of Batangas, and when I came on deck thesecond morning they told me that the island on our left was Corregidor, and that Manila was three hours' sail ahead. It was of no use goinginto a trance and coming up in imagination with Dewey, because hedid not come our way. The entrance to Manila Bay is rather narrow, and Corregidor lies a little to one side in it like a stone blockinga doorway. The passage on the left entering the bay is called BocaChica, or Little Mouth; that to the right is called Boca Grande, orBig Mouth. Dewey entered by the Boca Chica, and we were in Boca Grande. 

By and by a cluster of roofs, church towers, docks, and arsenalstook form against the sea. A little later we could discern the hulksof the Spanish fleet scattered in the water, and several of our ownfighting craft at anchor. This was Cavite. There, too, around a greatcurve of eight or nine miles, lay Manila, a mass of towers, domes, and white-painted iron roofs peeping out of green. Behind loomedthe background of mountains, without which no Filipino landscape isever complete. 

By eleven o'clock we had dropped anchor and the long voyage wasover. Counting our ten days in Honolulu, we lacked but three of theforty days and forty nights in which the Lord fasted in the wilds. Itwould be injustice to the _Buford's_ well-filled larder, however, to intimate that we fasted. Our food was good, barring the ice cream, which the chef had a weakness for flavoring with rose water. 

The first launch that came out after the doctor's brought a messengerfrom the Educational Department with orders to us teachers toremain aboard till next day, when a special launch would be sentfor us. So all day we watched our friends go down over the side, and waved farewells to them, and made engagements to meet on theLuneta. The launches and lighters and _cascos_ swarmed round us, thecargo derricks groaned and screeched, the soldiers gathered up knapsackand canteen and marched solemnly down the ladder. Vessels steamed pastus or anchored near us, while we hung over the rail, gazing at Manila, so near and yet so far. After dinner we betook ourselves to the emptyafterdeck and stared down the long promenade--alas! resembling thepiazza of a very empty hotel!--and peopled it with the ghosts ofthose who late had sat there. They had gone out of our lives aftera few brief days of idleness, but they would take up, as we should, the work of building a nation in a strange land and out of a reluctantpeople. Some were fated to die of wounds, and some were stricken withthe pestilence. Most of them are still living, moving from army postto army post. Some are still toiling in the remotenesses of mountainvillages; others are dashing about Manila in the midst of its feverishsociety. Some have gone to swell the American colonies in Asiaticcoast towns. A few have shaken the dust of the Philippines foreverfrom their feet, and are seeking fame in the home land and wooingfortune in the traffic of great cities or in peaceful rural life. Some, perhaps, may read these lines, and, reading, pause to give a tenderthought to the land which most Americans revile while they are in it, but which they sentimentally regret when they have left it. 

Eight long years have slipped by since that night, and in that time apassing-bell has tolled for the Philippines which we found then. Whoshall say for many a year whether the change be for better or forworse? But the change has come, and for the sake of a glamour whichoverlay the quaint and moribund civilization of the Philippines ofthat day I have chronicled in this volume my singularly unadventurousexperiences. 

The afterdeck was empty, and the promenade was the haunt of ghosts, but across the circle of gloom we could see a long oval of arc lightswith thousands of little glow-worms beneath, which we knew were notglow-worms at all, but carriage lamps dashing round the band stand;and as if he divined our sentimental musings, the second steward tookheart and not only played but sang his favorite air from "Cavalleria. "

CHAPTER V

Our First Few Days in the City

The Pasig River, With Its Swarm of House-boats--Through Manila intothe Walled City--Our First Meal--A Walk and a Drive in Manila--TheAdmirable Policemen--We Superintend the Preparation of Quarters forAdditional Teachers--That Artful Radcliffe Girl. 

Our guide from the Educational Department appeared about eleveno'clock the next day, which happened to be Sunday. We and our trunkswere bundled into a launch, and we left the _Buford_ forever. 

We were familiar with the magazine illustrations of the Pasig longbefore our pedagogic invasion of Manila, but we were unprepared forthe additional charm lent to these familiar views by the play ofcolor. The shipping was as we had imagined it--large black and graycoasters in the Hong-Kong and inter-island trade, a host of dirtylittle _vapors_ (steamers) of light tonnage, and the innumerable_cascos_ and _bancas_. The bancas are dug-out canoes, each paddledby a single oarsman. The casco is a lumbering hull covered over inthe centre with a mat of plaited bamboo, which makes a cave-likecabin and a living room for the owner's family. Children are born, grow up, become engaged, marry, give birth to more children--in short, spend their lives on these boats with a dog, a goat, and ten or twelvelusty game-cocks for society. 

The cascos lie along the bank of the river ten deep; every time acoasting steamer wants to get out, she runs afoul of them in some way, and there is a pretty mess. It always seems to turn out happily, but the excitement is great while it lasts, and it is apparentlynever dulled by repetition. 

We swept up the Pasig with Fort Santiago and the ancient city wall onthe right; and, on the left, warehouses, or _bodegas_, a customhousewith a gilded dome, and everywhere the faded creams and pinks ofpainted wooden buildings. Some of the roofs were of corrugated iron, but more were of old red Chinese tiles, with ferns and other wavinggreen things sprouting in the cracks. The wall was completely hiddenwith vegetation. 

We landed at the customhouse, left our trunks for inspection, andentered gig-like vehicles which were drawn by diminutive ponies andwere called _carromatas_. Two of us were a tight fit, and, as I amstout, I was afraid to lean back lest I should drag the pony upon hishind legs, and our entrance into Manila should become an unseemlyone. The carromata wheels were iron-tired, and jolted--well, likeManila street carromatas of that day. Since then a modification of thecarromata and of another vehicle called _calesin_ has been evolved. Themodern conveyance has rubber tires and a better angle of adjustment, and the rat-like pony will dash about with it all day in good spirits. 

We rattled up a street which I have since learned is called SanFernando, and which looks like the famous Chinatown of San Francisco, only more so. We passed over a canal spanned by a quaint stonebridge, arriving in front of the Binondo Church just as the noonhour struck. Instantly there burst out such a clamor of bells as wehad never before heard--big bells and little bells, brass bells andbroken bells--and brass bands lurking in unknown spots seemed to beassisting. I do not know whether the Filipinos were originally fondof noise or whether the Spaniards taught them to be so. At any rate, they both love it equally well now, and whenever the chance falls, thebells and the bands are ranged in opposition, yet bent to a common end. 

The Bridge of Spain is approached from the Binondo side by almost theonly steep grade to be found in Manila. I was leaning as far forwardas I could, figuring upon the possible strain to be withstood by thefrayed rope end which lay between us and a backward somersault, whenmy ears were assailed by an uncanny sound, half grunt, half moan. Foran instant I thought it was the wretched pony moved to protest bythe grade and my oppressive weight. But the pony was breasting thesteep most gallantly, all things considered. The miserable sound wasrepeated a second later, just as our little four-footed friend struckthe level, and I discovered that it was my driver's appeal to hissteed. It is a sound to move the pity of more than a horse; until youare thoroughly accustomed to it it leaves you under the apprehensionthat the _cochero_ has been stricken with the plague. This habit ofgrunting at horses seems to be disappearing at the present time, thehaughty customs of livery carromatas perhaps being responsible. AlsoEnglish is spreading. Apart from swear words, which appear to filla long-felt want for something emphatic, there are at least threephrases which every Filipino who has to do with horses seems to havemade a part of his vocabulary. They are "Back!" "Whoa, boy!" and"Git up!" Your cochero may groan at your horse or whine at it, butwhen the need arises he can draw upon that much of English. 

We jolted over the Bridge of Spain and through a masked gate intothe walled city, with the wall on our left, and the high brickedboundaries of churches and _conventos_ on the right, till we arrivedat a low, square frame structure, with the words "Escuela Municipal"above its portals. In Spanish times it was the training-school forgirls, and here temporary accommodation had been provided for us. Wecrossed a hall and a court where ferns and palms were growing, andwere ushered into a room containing a number of four-poster beds. Wewere to obtain our food at a neighboring restaurant, whither we soonset out under guidance. The street was narrow, and all the houseshad projecting second floors which overhung the sidewalk. Box-likeshops on the ground floor were filled with cheap, unattractive-lookingEuropean wares, with here and there a restaurant displaying its viands, and attracting flies. We recognized the bananas and occasionally apineapple, but the other fruits were new to us--_lanzones_ in white, fuzzy clusters like giant grapes; the _chico_, a little brown fruitthat tastes like baked apple flavored with caramel; and the _atis_, which most natives prise as a delicacy, but which few Americans everlearn to like. 

We had been introduced to the alligator pear, the papaya, and themango at Honolulu, but we were still expecting strange and wonderfulgastronomic treats in our first Philippine meal. 

We entered a stone-flagged lower hall where several shrouded carriageswould have betrayed the use to which it was put had not a stable odorfirst betrayed it. Thence we passed up a staircase, broad and shallow, which at the top entered a long, high-ceiled room, evidently a salonin days past. It had fallen to baser uses, however, and now served asdining-room. One side gave on the court, and another on an _azotea_where were tropical plants and a monkey. It was a bare, cheerlessapartment, hot in the unshaded light of a tropical noonday. The tableswere not alluring. The waiters were American negroes. A Filipino youth, dressed in a white suit, and wearing his black hair in a pompadour, was beating out "rag time" at a cracked old piano. 

"Easy is the descent into Avernus!" But there was consolation inthe monkey and the azotea, though we could neither pet the one norwalk on the other. However, we were the sort of people not easilydisconcerted by trifles, and we sat down still expectant. 

The vegetables were canned, the milk was canned, the butter was canned, and the inference was plain that it had made the trip from Holland ina sailing vessel going around Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope. Asfor the fruits, there was but one fruit, a little acid banana fullof tiny black seeds. With guava jelly it was served for dessert. Ourlandlord, an enterprising American, had been so far influenced bylocal custom that he had come to regard these two delicacies as a neverinappropriate dessert. So long as we continued to "chow" with him, solong appeared the acid, flavorless banana and the gummy, sticky jelly. 

In justice to Manila it must be said, however, that such conditionshave long since been outlived. Good food and well-served Americantables are plentiful enough in Manila to-day. The cold-storage depotsprovide meats and butter at prices as good as those of the home land, if not better. Manila is no longer congested with the population, both native and American, which centred there in war times. Thereis not the variety of fruits to be found in the United States, butthere is no lack of wholesome, appetizing food. 

We returned to the Escuela Municipal, and, after a nap, dressedand went out for a walk. The narrow streets with overhanging secondstories; the open windows with gayly dressed girls leaning out to talkwith amorous swains on the pavement below; the swarming vehicles withcoachmen shouting "Ta-beh"; and the _frailes_ (friars)--tall, thin, bearded frailes in brown garments and sandals, or rosy, clean-shaven, plump frailes in flapping white robes--all made a novel scene to ouruntravelled eyes. Mounting a flight of moss-grown steps, we foundourselves on top of the wall, whence we could look across the moatto the beautiful avenue, called, on the maps of Manila, the Paseode Las Aguadas, but familiarly known as the Bagumbayan. West Indiarain-trees spread their broad branches over it, and all Manilaseemed to be walking, riding, or driving upon it. It was the hourwhen everybody turns his face Luneta-ward. Seized with the longing, we too sent for a carriage. 

Our coachman wore no uniform, but was resplendent in a fresh-launderedwhite muslin shirt which he wore outside his drill trousers. Hecarried us through the walled city and out by a masked gate to adrive called the Malecon, a broad, smooth roadway lined with cocoanutpalms. On the bay side the waters dashed against the sea wall just asLake Michigan does on the Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. But the viewacross the bay at Manila is infinitely more beautiful than that atChicago. To the left stretches a noble curve of beach, ending withthe spires and roofs of Cavite and a purple line of plateau, drawnboldly across the sky. In front there is the wide expanse of water, dotted with every variety of craft, with a lonely mountain, risingapparently straight from the sea, bulking itself in the foregrounda little to the left. The mountain is in reality Mt. Marivales, the headland which forms the north entrance to Manila Bay, but itis so much higher than the sierra which runs back from it that itmanages to convey a splendid picture of isolation. The sun fallsbehind Marivales, painting a flaming background for mountains andsea. When that smouldering curtain of night has dropped, and the sealies glooming, and the ships of all nations swing on their anchorchains, there are few lovelier spots than the Luneta. The wind comessoft as velvet; the surf croons a lullaby, and the little toy horsesand toy victorias spin up and down between the palms, settling atlast around the turf oval which surrounds the bandstand. 

Here are soldiers in clean khaki on the benches; officers of the armyand navy in snow-white uniforms; Chinamen in robes of purple or bluesilk, smoking in their victorias; Japanese and Chinese nursemaids intheir native costumes watching their charges at play on the grass;bareheaded American women; black-haired Spanish beauties; and nativewomen with their long, graceful necks rising from the stiff folds ofazure or rose-colored kerchiefs. American officers tower by on theirbig horses, or American women in white drill habits. There are drovesof American children on native ponies, the girls riding astride, their fat little legs in pink or blue stockings bobbing against theponies' sides. There are boys' schools out for a walk in charge ofshovel-hatted priests. There are demure processions of maidens fromthe _colegios_, sedately promenading two and two, with black-robed_madres_ vainly endeavoring to intercept surreptitious glances andremarks. There are groups of Hindoos in turbans. There are Englishmenwith the inevitable walking-sticks. There are friars apparently ofall created orders, and there is the Manila policeman. 

As I recall those early impressions, I think the awe and respect forthe Manila police was quite the strongest of all. They were the pickedmen of the army of invasion, non-commissioned officers who could showan honorable discharge. Size must have been taken into considerationin selecting them, for I do not remember seeing one who was of lessthan admirable proportions. Soldierly training was in every movement. 

There was none of the loafing stride characteristic of the professionalroundsman. They wore gray-green khaki, tan shoes, tan leather leggings, and the military cap; and a better set up, smarter, abler body of lawpreservers it would be difficult to find. The "machinery of politics"had not affected them, the instinct of the soldier to do his duty wasstrong in them, and they would have arrested Governor William H. Tafthimself as gleefully as they would have arrested a common Chinaman, had the Governor offered sufficient provocation. 

We enjoyed that first night's entertainment on the Luneta as do allwho come to Manila, and I must confess that time has not staled it forme. It is cosmopolitan and yet typically Philippine. Since that daythe fine Constabulary Band has come into existence, and the music hasgrown to be more than a mere feature of the whole scene. The concertwould be well worth an admission fee and an hour's confinement ina stuffy hall. Enjoyed in delightful pure air with a background ofwonderful beauty, it is a veritable treat. 

On the following day we had our interview with the Superintendentof Public Instruction. He informed us that in the course of a weekthe transport _Thomas_ would arrive, carrying some five hundred ormore pedagogues. He suggested that, as we were then drawing full pay, we might reimburse the Government by making ourselves useful at theExposition Building, which was being put in order to receive them. 

So to the Exposition Building we betook ourselves, and for severaldays made herculean efforts to induce the native boys and Chinesewho were supposed to clean it up to do so properly. We also helpedto put up cots and to hang mosquito nettings, and at night we lay andlistened to the most vociferous concert of bull frogs, debutante frogs, tree toads, katydids, locusts, and iku lizards that ever murdered thesleep of the just. We also left an open box of candy on the table ofthe dormitory which we had preëmpted, starting therewith another suchfrantic migration in the ant world as in the human world once pouredinto the Klondike. They came on all trails from far and near. Theyinvaded our beds, and when the sweets gave out, took bites out of usas the next best delicacy. 

Manila seemed to be more or less excited over the new army of invasion, the local papers teeming with jokes about pretty schoolma'ams andsusceptible exiles. The teachers were to land at the Anda Monument atthe Pasig end of the Malecon Drive, and thence were to be conveyed tothe Exposition Building in army ambulances and Doherty wagons whichthe military had put at the disposal of the Civil Government. 

Owing to the fact that I was appointed a sort of matron to the women'sdormitory, and had to be on hand to assign the ladies to theircots and to register them, I did not go down to the Anda Monumentto see the disembarkation. Plenty of people who might have pleadedless legitimate interest in the pedagogues than I had, were there, however. By half-past ten the first wagon-load had arrived at theExposition Building in a heavy shower, and from then till earlynoon they continued to pour in. On the whole, they were up to ahigh standard--a considerably higher standard than has since beenmaintained in the Educational Department. The women were a shade inadvance of the men. 

Both men and women accepted their rough quarters withfew complaints. Nearly all were obliging and ready to do theirbest to make up for the deficiencies in bell boys and other hotelaccommodations. We arranged a plan whereby twelve women teachers wereto be on duty each day, --a division of four for morning, afternoon, and evening, respectively. The number of each woman's cot and roomwas placed after her name, and one teacher acted as clerk while theothers played bell boy and hunted for those in demand. 

And they were overworked! By five o'clock in the afternoon the parlorof the Exposition Building looked like a hotel lobby in a town where apresidential nominating convention is in session. To begin with, therewere the one hundred and sixty schoolma'ams. Then the men teachers, who had been assigned to the old _nipa_ artillery barracks, found thewomen's parlors a pleasant place in which to spend an odd half-hour, and made themselves at home there. In addition, each woman seemed tohave some acquaintance among the military or civil people of Manila;and officers in white and gold, and women in the creams, blues, andpinks of Filipino _jusi_ thronged the rooms till one could hardly getthrough the press. Victorias and carromatas outside were crowded ascarriages are about the theatres on grand opera nights at home. 

It would have been difficult in all that crowd to say who was therewith good and sufficient reason. Many a man drifted in and out with thehope of picking up acquaintance, and doubtless some were successful. 

I was at the desk one day, doing duty for a teacher who was sick, when two forlorn but kind-looking young men approached and asked ifI could tell them the names of any of the teachers from Michigan. Wehad a list of names arranged by States, and I at once handed thisover. They pored over this long and sorrowfully. Then one heaved asigh, and one took me into his confidence. They were from Michigan, and they had hoped to find, one or the other, an acquaintance on thelist. The eagerness of this hope had even led them to bring a carriagewith the ulterior motive of doing the honors of Manila if their searchproved successful. Their disappointment was so heavy, and they wereso naively unconscious of anything strained in the situation, that mysympathy was honest and open. But when they suggested that I introducethem to some of the women teachers from Michigan, and I declined theresponsibility as gently as I could, the frigidity of their injuredpride made me momentarily abject. They drifted away and hung aboutwith expectancy printed on their faces--that and a mingled hate anddefiance of the glittering uniforms which quite absorbed all feminineattention and left their civilian dulness completely overshadowed. 

One of the Radcliffe maidens had an experience which goes far to showthat higher culture does not eradicate the talent for duplicity forwhich the female sex has long been noted, and which illustrates ahappy faculty of getting out of a disagreeable situation. It alsoillustrates a singular mingling of unsophistication and astuteness, which may be a result of collegiate training. 

One of the chief difficulties which beset us was the matter oftransportation. In those days there was no street-car system--orat least the apology for one which they had was not patronized byEuropeans. The heat and the frequent showers made a conveyance anabsolute necessity. The livery stables were not fully equal to thedemand upon them, and, in addition, there was no telephone at theExposition Building. As a consequence, we had to rely largely on streetcarromatas. We had a force of small boys, clad in what Mr. Kiplingcalls "inadequate" shirts, whose business it was to go forth inresponse to the command, "_Busca carromata_, " and to return not tillaccompanied by the two-wheeled nightmare and the Lilliputian pony. 

On the morning on which we drew our travel-pay checks, one of theRadcliffe girls was most eager to get down town before the bankclosed. The shops of Manila had been altogether too alluring for thevery small balance which remained in her purse after our ten days atHonolulu. The efforts of the small boys were apparently fruitless, so she resorted to the expedient of trying to gather up a carromatafrom some one leaving his at the Exposition Building. Every time acarromata drove up, she thrust her cherubic countenance out of thewindow and inquired of its occupant whether he was going to retainhis conveyance or to dismiss it. Most of the visitors signifiedtheir intentions of never letting go a carromata when once theyhad it; and failure had rather dimmed the bravery of her inquiry, when one young man replied that he wished to retain his carromata, but that he was returning immediately to the city and would be happyto assist her and to take her wherever she wanted to go. 

The Radcliffe girl closed with this handsome offer at once, acceptingit in the chummy spirit which is supposed to be generated in theatmosphere of higher culture. A more worldly-wise woman might havesuspected him, not only on grounds of general masculine selfishness, but on the fact that he had no business to transact at our hostelry. Hedid not enter its doors, but remained sitting in the carromata tillshe joined him. The girl had her mind on salary, however, and hadno time to question motives. The banks had closed, but her guardianangel drove her to a newspaper office, where he introduced her, vouched for her, and induced the bookkeeper to cash her check. He thenexpressed a desire for a recognition of his services in the form ofintroductions to some of the teachers at the Exposition Building. Theyoung woman was rather taken aback, for she had put all his civilitydown to disinterested masculine chivalry; but she reflected thatshe ought to pay the price of her own rashness. She was, however, a girl of resources. She agreed to let him call that afternoon andto introduce him to some of her new friends. 

Then she came home and outlined the situation to an aged woman whowas chaperoning her daughter, to a widow with two children, and toan old maid in whom the desire for masculine conquest had died forwant of fuel to keep the flame alive. When the young man appeared, he found this austere and unbeautiful phalanx awaiting him. When theintroductions were over and conversation was proceeding as smoothly asthe caller's discomfiture would permit it to do, the artful collegianexcused herself on the ground of a previous engagement. She went awayblithely, leaving him in the hands of the three. Nor was he seen orheard of on those premises again. Doubtless he still thinks bitterlyof the effects of higher education on the feminine temperament. Itwas duplicity--duplicity not to be expected of a girl who could stickher head out of a window and hail the chance passer-by as innocentlyas she did. 

CHAPTER VI

From Manila to Capiz

I Am Appointed to a School at Capiz, on Panay Island--We Anchorat the Lovely Harbor of Romblon--The Beauty of the Night Trip toIloilo--We Halt There for a Few Days--Examples Showing That thePhilippines Are a "Mañana" Country--Kindness of Some Nurses to theTeachers--An Uncomfortable Journey from Iloilo to Charming Capiz. 

In due time our appointments were made, and great was the wrath thatswelled about the Exposition Building! The curly-haired maiden whohad fallen in love with a waiter on the _Thomas_ wept openly on hisshoulder, to the envy of staring males. A very tall young woman whowas the possessor of an M. A. Degree in mathematics from the Universityof California, and who was supposed to know more about conic sectionsthan any woman ought to know, was sent up among the Macabebes, whomay in ten generations arrive at an elementary idea of what is meantby conic sections. Whether she was embittered by the thought of herscintillations growing dull from disuse or of scintillating head axes, I know not, but she made little less than a tragedy of the matter. Theamount of wire-pulling that had been going on for stations in Manilawas something enormous, and the disappointment was proportionate. 

I had stated that I had no choice of stations, was willing to goanywhere, and did not particularly desire to have another womanassigned with me. I had my doubts about the advisability of bindingmyself to live with some one whom I had known so short a time; andsubsequent experience and the observation of many a quarrel grownout of the enforced companionship of two women who never had anytastes in common have convinced me that my judgment was sound. Iwas informed that my station would be Capiz, a town on the northernshore of Panay, once a rich and aristocratic pueblo, but now a townexisting in the flavor of decayed gentility. I was eager to go, and time seemed fairly to drag until the seventh day of September, on which date the boat of the _Compañia Maritima_ would depart forIloilo, the first stage of our journey. 

September the seventh was hot and steamy. We had endless troublegetting ourselves and our baggage to the Bridge of Spain, where the_Francisco Reyes_ was lying. Great familiarity has since quite wornaway the nervousness which we then felt on perceiving that our watchespointed to half an hour after starting time while we were yet adorningthe front steps of the Exposition Building. Local boats never leaveon time. From six hours to three days is a fair overtime allowancefor them. 

We finally arrived at the steamer in much agony and perspiration. Theold saying about bustle and confusion was applicable to the _FranciscoReyes_ if one leaves out "bustle. " There were no immediate signs ofdeparture, but there were evidences of the eleven o'clock meal. Themuchachos were setting the table under an awning on the after-deck. Ahard-shell roll with a pallid centre, which tastes like "salt-rising"bread and which is locally known as _bescocho_, was at each platetogether with the German silver knives and spoons. The inevitablecheese was on hand, strongly barricaded in a crystal dish; and whenI saw the tins of guava jelly and the bunch of bananas hanging from astanchion, I had that dinner all mapped out. I had no time, however, to speculate on its constituent elements, because my attention wasattracted by the cloth with which the boy was polishing off dishesbefore he set them down. This rag was of a fine, sooty-black color, and had a suggestion of oil about it as if it had been on duty inthe engine-room. The youth grew warm, and used it also to mop hisperspiring countenance. I ceased to inspect at that point, and wentforward. 

Several black and white kids of an inquisitive turn of mind wereresting under my steamer chair, which had been sent on board the daybefore. They seemed to feel some injury at being dispossessed. Iguessed at once that we carried no ice, and that the goats werea sea-faring conception of fresh meat. As their numbers diminisheddaily, and as we enjoyed at least twice a day a steaming platter ofmeat, _garbanzos_, peppers, onions, and tomato sauce, I have seen noreason to change my opinion. 

Passengers continued to arrive until nearly two o'clock. There wereone or two officers with their muchachos, and some twenty or moreschoolteachers. Six were women, and we found ourselves allotted thebest there was. 

We got away about three o'clock, and, after fouling a line over a rowof cascos and threatening their destruction, sailed down the Pasig andout into the Bay, We passed Corregidor about sunset, met a heavy seaand stiff wind outside, and I retired from society. This was Saturdaynight. On Sunday noon we cast anchor in the lovely harbor of Romblon, and, defying sickness, I came on deck to admire. 

The harbor at Romblon resembles a lake guarded by mountains which arecovered with cocoanut trees clear to their summits. At one end--theend toward the entrance, which no unfamiliar eye can detect--a greatplateau mountain called Tablas stretches across the view in lengthenedbulk like the sky-line of some submarine upheaval. The waters are gaylycolored, shadowed into exquisite greens by the plumy mountains above;and in a little valley lies the white town of Romblon with its squatmunicipal buildings, its gray old church, and a graceful _campanile_rising from a grassy plaza. They have dammed a mountain stream, so thatthe town is bountifully supplied with pure cold water, and with itsclean streets and whitewashed buildings, it is a most attractive place. 

The inhabitants of Romblon were eager to sell us mats, or _petates_, the making of which is a special industry there. Their prices hadsuffered the rise which is an inevitable result of American occupation, and were quite beyond our means. I succeeded afterwards in gettingsome Romblon mats through a Filipino friend for about one-fifth theprice asked that day. 

Our stay at Romblon was not lengthy. We got out some time in the lateafternoon, and proceeded on our way. I cannot remember whether weoccupied all that night and the next day in getting down to Iloilo orwhether we made Iloilo in twelve hours. I do remember the night tripdown the east coast of Panay, with Negros on the invisible left, and all about us a chain of little islands where the fisher folkwere engaged in their night work of spearing fish by torchlight. Dimmountainous shapes would rise out of the sea and loom vaguely in thestarlit distance, the curving beaches at their bases outlined by thetorches in the bancas till they looked like boulevards with their linesof flickering lamps. I remember that we fell to singing, and that afterwe had sung everything we knew, an officer of the First Infantry whowas going back to his regiment after a wound and a siege in hospitalsaid enthusiastically: "Oh, don't stop. You don't know how it soundsto hear a whole lot of American men and women singing together. "

It was somewhere between ten and midnight when a light flashed ahead, and beyond it lay a little maze of twinkles that they said wasIloilo. The anchor chains ran out with a clang and rattle, for ourSpanish captain took no chances, and would not pick his way throughthe Siete Pecadores at night. 

The Siete Pecadores, or Seven Sinners, are a group of islands, orrocks--for they amount to little more than that--some six miles northof Iloilo, just at the head of Guimaras Strait. On the east the long, narrow island of Guimaras, hilly and beautifully wooded, lies likea wedge between Panay and Negros. Beyond it the seven-thousand-footvolcano, Canlaon, on Negros, lifts a purple head. On the west lies theswampy foreshore of Panay with a mountain range inland, daring thesunlight with scarpy flanks, on which every ravine and every cleftare sunk in shadows of violet and pink. The water of the straits isglassy and full of jelly-fish, some of the white dome-like kind, butmore of the purple ones that float on the water like a petalled flower. 

Iloilo was a miniature edition of Manila, save that there were moregardens and that there was a rural atmosphere such as is characteristicof small towns in the States. The toy horses and the toy carromatasand quilices were there, and the four-horse wagons with a staring"U. S. " on their blue sides. There were the same dusky crowds intransparent garments, the soldiers in khaki, the bugle calls, andthe Stars and Stripes fluttering from all the public buildings. 

As Iloilo was not well supplied with hotels, we women were barracked ina new house belonging to the American Treasurer, whose family had notyet arrived from the States, We found our old friend, the army cot, borrowed from the military quartermaster. There was a sitting-roomwell equipped with chairs and tables. Our meals were obtained froma neighboring boarding-house which rejoiced in the name "AmericanRestaurant, " and was kept by a Filipina. She was a good soul, and hadlearned how to make cocoanut balls, so that we bade a glad adieu tothe bananas and guava jelly. 

Our own particular waitress was a ten-year-old child, who said "hello"and smoked a cigar as long as herself. In a moment of enthusiasmone of our number who was interested in temperance and its alliedreforms tipped Basilia a whole Mexican media-peseta. When the reformerbecame aware of Basilia's predilection for the weed, she wanted hermedia-peseta back, but Basilia was too keen a financier for that. Themedia-peseta was hers--given in the presence of witnesses --and shesomewhat ostentatiously blew smoke rings when she found the reformer'seye fixed upon her. 

At Iloilo we picked up the word _tao_, which means "man, " especially"laboring man, " for the Filipinos usually fall back upon the Spanishwords _caballero_ and _señor_ to designate the fortunate individualswhose hands are unstained with toil. We had picked up the vernacularof the street carromata in Manila. This is very simple. It consistsof _sigue, para, derecho, mano_, and _silla_. For the benefit of suchreaders as do not understand pidgin Spanish, it may be explained thatthese words signify, respectively, "go on, " "stop, " "straight ahead, ""to the right, " and "to the left. " The words _mano_ and _silla_mean really "hand" and "saddle"; I have been told that they arelinguistic survivals of the days when women, rode on pillions and thefair incubus indicated that she wished to turn either to the side ofher right hand or to the skirt side. 

By this time we had begun to understand--just to understand ininfinitely small proportion--what the old resident Americansmeant when they joked about the Philippines as a _mañana_country. When we inquired when a boat would be in, the reply was"Seguro mañana"--"To-morrow for sure. " When would it leave? "Seguromañana. " Nothing annoys or embarrasses a Filipino more than theAmerican habit of railing at luck or of berating the unfortunatepurveyor of disappointing news, or, in fact, of insisting on accurateinformation if it can be obtained. They are ready to say anything ata minute's notice. A friend of mine in Ilocos Norte once lost a ring, and asked her servant if he knew anything about it. The boy repliedinstantly, "Seguro raton, " which is an elliptical form of "Surelya rat ate it. " The boy had not stolen the ring, but he jumped atanything to head off complaint or investigation. 

Time is apparently of no value in the Philippines. On the second dayof our stay in Iloilo the Treasurer sent up two pieces of furniturefor our use, a wardrobe and a table. They were delivered just beforelunch, about ten o'clock, and the Treasurer would not be at hometo sign for them till nearly one. When I came in from a shoppingexpedition, I found eight or ten taos sitting placidly on theirheels in the front yard, while the two pieces of new furniture werelying in the mud just as they had been dumped when the bearers easedtheir shoulders from the poles. The noonday heat waxed fiercer, andthe Treasurer was delayed, but nobody displayed any impatience. Themen continued to sit on their heels, to chew their betel nut, andto smoke their cigars, and, I verily believe, would have watched thesun set before they would have left. In an hour or so the Treasurerappeared, and settled the account, the taos picked up the furnitureand deposited it in the house, and the object lesson was over. 

In spite of shopping, time hung somewhat heavy on our hands atIloilo. We made few acquaintances, for there were few civilianwomen, and the army ladies, so we were informed, looked askance atschoolteachers, and had determined that we were not to be admittedinto "society. " The army nurses asked us to five o'clock tea, and wewent and enjoyed it. They were, for the most part, gentlewomen born, and the self-sacrifice of their daily lives had accentuated theirnative refinement. I have few remembrances more pleasant than thoseof the half-hour we spent in their cool _sala_. As for the tea theygave us and the delicious toast, mere words are inadequate to describethem. We became sensible that the art of cooking had not vanished fromthe earth. After the garbanzos and the bescochos and the guava jelly, how good they tasted!

In the course of two or three days we were notified that the _vaporGeneral Blanco_ would leave for Capiz on Saturday at five P. M. , andsome ten or twelve of us, destined for the province of that name, madeready to depart. I was the only woman in the party, but our DivisionSuperintendent, who was personally conducting us and who was havingsome little difficulty with his charges, assured me that I was a dealless worry to him than some of the men were. I told him that I wasquite equal to getting myself and my luggage aboard the _Blanco_. Ihad employed a native servant who said he knew how to cook, and I wastaking him up to Capiz with an eye to future comfort. Romoldo wentout and got a _carabao_ cart, heaping it with my trunks, deck chair, and boxes. I followed in a _quilez_, and we rattled down to the wharfin good time. 

The _General Blanco_ was not of a size to make her conspicuous, andI reflected that, if there had been another stage to the journeyand a proportional shrinkage in the vessel, it surely would havehad to be accomplished in a scow. Although by no means palatial, the _Buford_ was a fair-sized, ocean-going steamer. The _FranciscoReyes_ was a dirty old tub with pretensions to the contrary; andthe _General Blanco_--well, metaphorically speaking, the _GeneralBlanco_ was a coal scuttle. She was a supercilious-looking craft, sitting at a rakish angle, her engines being aft. She had a freeboardof six or seven feet, and possessed neither cabin nor staterooms, the space between the superstructure and the rail being about threefeet wide. You could stay there, or, if you did not incommode theengineer, you could go inside and sit on a coal pile. There was abridge approached by a rickety stair, and I judged that my deck chairwould fill it completely, leaving about six inches for the captain'spromenade. Behind the superstructure there was a sort of after-deck, nearly four feet of it. When my trunks and boxes had been piled upthere, with the deck chair balancing precariously atop, and withRomoldo reclining luxuriously in it, his distraught pompadour wasabout on a level with the top of the smokestack. 

I really didn't see any room aboard for me, and sat down on ahemp bale to consider. Shortly after, the Division Superintendentarrived, accompanied by several young men. He looked blank, and theywhistled. Then he went on board to talk with the captain, while hisassembled charges continued to ornament the hemp bales. Filipinos ofall ages and sizes gathered round to stare and to comment. 

At last the Division Superintendent came back with the informationthat the _Blanco_ would tow up a _lorcha_ which was lying a littledistance down the river, and that we should find her a roomier andcooler means of transportation than the steamer. "Lorcha" is the namegiven to the local sailing vessels. Our lorcha was about sixty feetlong, and, according to one of the teachers who had once seen LakeMichigan, was "schooner rigged. " There was a deck house aft, whichwas converted into a stateroom for me. There were two bunks in it, each of which I declined to patronize. Instead I had my steamer chairbrought over, and found there was plenty of room for it. There werelittle sliding windows, which with the open door afforded fairlydecent ventilation. But the helm was just behind the deck house, and the helmsman either sat or stood on the roof, so that all nighthis responses to the steersman on the _Blanco_ interfered with mysleep. Then, too, they kept their spare lanterns and their cocoanutoil and some coils of rope in there. At intervals soft-footed nativescame in, and I was never certain whether it was to slay me or to getsome of their stores. Once a figure blocked out the starlight at oneof the windows, and I heard a rustling and shuffling on the shelfwhere my food tins were piled. So I said, "Sigue! Vamos!" and thefigure disappeared. 

The men opened their army cots on the forward deck, where the big sailcut them off from the rest of the ship. The next morning they reporteda fine night's rest. I could not make so felicitous a report, for mystateroom was considerably warmer than the open air, and a steamerchair, though comfortable by day, does not make an acceptable bed. 

We breakfasted from our private stores, and I found myself longing forhot coffee, instead of which I had to drink evaporated milk dilutedwith mineral water. The day was sunny, the heat beat fiercely off thewater, and I burned abominably. Near noon we sighted a town close tothe coast, and knew that we were nearing our journey's end. 

We skirted the horn of a crescent-shaped bay, found a river's mouth, and entered. Here at least was the tropical scene of my imagination--atide-swollen current, its marshy banks covered with strange foliage, and innumerable water lanes leading out of it into palmy depths. Downthese lanes came bancas, sometimes with a single occupant paddlingat the stern, sometimes with a whole family sitting motionless ontheir heels. Once we passed the ruins of what had been a sugar millor a _bino_ factory--probably the latter. Then the _Blanco_, puffingahead, whistled twice, we rounded a curve and came full upon the town. 

Though subsequent familiarity has brought to my notice many detailsthat I then overlooked, that first impression was the one of greatestcharm, and the one I love best to remember. There were the great, square, white-painted, red-tiled houses lining both banks of the river;the picturesque groups beating their clothes on the flat steps whichled down to the water; and the sprawling wooden bridge in the distancewhere the stream made an abrupt sweep to the right. 

On the left of the bridge was a grassy plaza shaded with almond trees, a stately church, several squat stone buildings which I knew for jailand municipal quarters, and a flag staff with the Stars and Stripeswhipping the breeze from its top. Over all hung a sky dazzlingly blueand an atmosphere crystal clear. Back of the town a low unforestedmountain heaved a grassy shoulder above the palms, and far off therewas a violet tracery of more mountains. 

I knew that I should like Capiz. 

CHAPTER VII

My First Experiences As a Teacher of Filipinos

After Resting in a Saloon I Arrive at My Lodging--I Attend anEvening Party--Filipino Babies--I Take Temporary Charge of the Boys'School--How the Opening of the Girls' School Was Announced--Curiosityof the Natives Regarding the New School--Difficulty of Securing Orderat First. 

The municipality of Capiz was expecting a woman teacher, for cries of"La maestra!" began to resound before the boat was properly snubbedup to the bank; and when I walked ashore on a plank ten inches wide, there had already assembled a considerable crowd to witness thatfeat. They gathered round and continued to stare when I was seatedin the principal saloon. Meanwhile a messenger was sent to find theAmerican man teacher, who had been notified by telegram to arrangefor my accommodation. The saloon was a very innocent-looking one, so that I mistook it for a grocery storeroom. Such as it was, itrepresented the best the Filipinos could do in the saloon line. Onesees, in Manila and, for that matter, all up and down the Chineseand Japanese coasts, the typical groggery of America with somebody's"Place" printed large over the entrance, and a painted screen blockingthe doorway with its suggestions of unseemliness. But the provincialsaloon is still essentially Spanish--a clean, light room with noreservations, the array of bottles on the shelves smiling down onthe little green cloth-covered tables where the domino and card gamesgo on. There may be an ancient billiard table in one corner with itsaccompanying cue rack, and there is almost sure to be a little holein the ceiling through which the proprietor's wife, who resides above, can peep down and watch the card games. It is a genuine family resort, too, for between four and seven all the town is likely to drop in, the women chaffering or gossiping while their lords enjoy a glass ofbeer and a game of dominoes. 

The proprietor's wife must have had a fine look at me as I sat moppingmy sunburned face. At last the American teacher came, a pleasant-facedyoung man who spoke Spanish excellently and was quite an adept atthe vernacular. In due time I was ushered into a room in a houseon the far side of the river, the window of which commanded a fineview of the bridge, the plaza, the gray old church, and the jail, with the excitements of guard mount and retreat thrown in. 

The room had a floor of boards, each one of which was at least two feetwide. They were rudely nailed and were separated by dirt-filled cracks, but were polished into a dark richness by long rubbing with petroleumand banana leaves. The furnishings consisted of a wardrobe, a table, a washstand, several chairs, and a Filipino four-poster bed with amattress of plaited rattan such as we find in cane-seated chairs. Asnow-white valence draped the bed. The mattress was covered with apetate, or native mat, and there were two pillows--a big, fat, bolsteryone, and another, called _abrazador_, which is used for a leg-rest. 

I bathed in the provincial bathroom. Manila, being the metropolis ofthe Philippines, has running water and the regular tub and shower bathsin tiled rooms. The Capiz bathroom had a floor of bamboo strips whichkept me constantly in agony lest somebody should stray beneath, andwhich even made me feel apologetic toward the pigs rooting below. Therewas a _tinaja_, or earthenware jar, holding about twenty gallons ofwater, and a dipper made of a polished cocoanut shell. I poured waterover my body till the contents of the tinaja were exhausted and Iwas cool. Already I was beginning to look upon a bath from the nativestandpoint as a means of coolness, and incidentally of cleanliness. 

When I got back to my room, my hostess and her sister came and satwith me while I unpacked my trunk and applied cold cream to my sunburntskin. They were afraid that I should be _triste_ because I was so farfrom home and alone, and they inquired if I wanted a woman servantto sleep in my room at night. I was quite unconscious that this wasan effort to rehabilitate their conception of the creature feminineand the violated proprieties; and my indignant disclaimer of anythingbordering on nervousness did not raise me in their estimation. 

They left me finally in time to permit me to dress and gainthe sala when the bugles sounded retreat. The atmosphere wasgolden-moted--swimming in the incomparable amber of a tropicalevening. The river slipped along, giving the sense of rest and peacewhich water in shadow always imparts, and as the long-drawn-out noteswere caught and flung back by the echo from the mountains, the flagfluttered down as if reluctant to leave so gentle a scene. When the"Angelus" rang just afterwards, it was as if some benignant fairy hadwaved her wand over the land to hold it at its sweetest moment. Thecriss-crossing crowds on the plaza paused for a reverent moment; thepeople in the room stood up, and when the bell stopped ringing, saidbriskly to me and to one another, "Good evening. " Then the membersof the family approached its oldest representative and kissed hishand. It was all very pretty and very effective. 

Afterwards we went out for a walk--at least they invited me to gofor a walk, though it was a party to which we were bound. Filipinos, being devout Catholics, have a fashion of naming their children afterthe saints, and, instead of celebrating the children's birthdays, celebrate the saints' days. As there is a saint for every day in theyear, and some to spare, and it is a point of pride with every oneof any social pretension whatever to be at home to his friends onhis patron saint's day, and to do that which we vulgarly term "set'em up" most liberally, there is more social diversion going on in asmall Filipino town than would be found in one of corresponding sizein America. At these functions the crowd is apt to be thickest fromfour till eight, the official calling hours in the Philippines. 

Starting out, therefore, at half-past six, we found the parlors ofthe house well thronged. At the head of the stairs was a sort ofanteroom filled with men smoking. This _antesala_, as they call it, gave on the sala, or drawing-room proper, which was a large apartmentlighted by a hanging chandelier of cut glass, holding about a dozenpetroleum lamps. Two rows of chairs, facing each other, were occupiedby ladies in silken skirts of brilliant hues, and in _camisas_ and_pañuelos_ of delicate embroidered or hand-painted _piña_. We madea solemn entry, and passed up the aisle doing a sort of Roger deCoverley figure in turning first to one side and then to the otherto shake hands. No names were mentioned. Our hostess said, by way ofgeneral announcement, "La maestra, " and having started me up the mazeleft me to unwind myself. So I zigzagged along with a hand-shake anda decorous "Buenas noches" to everybody till I found myself at theend of the line at an open window. Here one of those little oblongtables, across which the Filipinos are fond of talking, separatedme from a lady, unquestionably of the white races, who received thedistinction of personal mention. She was "_la Gobernadora_, " and herhusband, a fat _Chino mestizo_, was immediately brought forward andintroduced as "_el Gobernador_. " He was a man of education and polish, having spent fourteen years in school in Spain, where he married hiswife. After having welcomed me properly, he betook himself to theroom at the head of the stairs where the men were congregated. A fatnative priest in a greasy old cassock seemed the centre of jollitythere, and he alternately joked with the men and stopped to extendhis hand to the children who went up and kissed it. 

I did my best to converse intelligently with the Gobernadora and theother ladies who were within conversational distance. A band came upoutside and played "Just One Girl, " and presently one of the ladies ofthe house invited the Governor's wife and me to partake of sweets. Wewent out to the dining-room, where a table was laid with snow-whitecloth, and prettily decorated with flowers and with crystal dishescontaining goodies. 

There were, first of all, _meringues_, which we call French kisses, the favorite sweet here. There was also _flaon_, which we wouldcall baked custard. In the absence of ovens they do not bake it, but they boil it in a mould like an ice-cream brick. They line themould with caramel, and the custard comes out golden brown, smoothas satin, and delicately flavored with the caramel. Then there was_nata_, which is like boiled custard unboiled, and there were allsorts of crystallized fruits--pineapple, lemon, orange, and citron, together with that peculiar one they call _santol_. There were alsothe transparent, jelly-like seeds of the nipa palm, boiled in syruptill they looked like magnified balls of sago or tapioca. 

I partook of these rich delicacies, though my soul was hungering fora piece of broiled steak, and I accepted a glass of muscatel, which isthe accepted ladies' wine here. My hostesses were eager that I shouldtry all kinds of foods, and a refusal to accept met with a protest, "Otra clase, otra clase. " Then the Gobernadora and I went back tothe sala, and another group took our places at the refreshment table. 

I was much interested in the babies, who were strutting aboutin their finest raiment and were unquestionably annoyed at itsrestrictions. Filipino babies are sharp-eyed, black-polled, attractivelittle creatures. Whether of high or low degree, their ordinary dressis adapted to the climate, and consists usually of a single low-neckedgarment, which drapes itself picturesquely across the shoulders likethe cloaks of Louis the Fourteenth's time seen on the stage. 

On state occasions, however, they are inducted into raiment which theirdeluded mothers fancy is European and stylish; but there is alwayssomething wrong. Either one little ruffled drawers leg sags down, or the petticoat is longer than the dress skirt, or the waistband istoo tight, or mamma has failed to make allowance in the underclothingfor the gauziness of the outer sheathing. As for the sashes withwhich the victims are finally bound, they fret the little swelledstomachs, and the baby goes about tugging at his undesirable adornment, and wearing the frown of one harassed past endurance. Sometimes itends in flat mutiny, and baby is shorn of his grandeur, and prancesinnocently back into the heart of society, clad in a combination ofwaist and drawers which is associated in my memory with cotton flanneland winter nights. Nobody is at all embarrassed by the _negligée_;and as for the baby himself, he would appear in the garments of Evebefore the Fall without a qualm. 

After everybody had been served with sweets, a young Filipina was ledto the piano. She played with remarkable technique and skill. Anotheryoung lady sang very badly. Filipinos have natural good taste in music, have quick musical ears, and a natural sense of time, but they havevoices of small range and compass, and what voice they have theymisuse shamefully. They also undertake to sing music altogether toodifficult for any but professionals. 

When the music was over, I was rather anxiously anticipating a"recitation, " but was overjoyed to discover that that resource of ruralentertainment has no foothold in the Philippines. Dancing was nextin order. The first dance was the stately _rigodon_, which is almostthe only square dance used here. When it was finished and a waltzhad begun, I insisted on going home, for I was tired out. Somebodyloaned us a victoria, and thus the trip was short. A deep-mouthedbell in the church tower rang out ten slow strokes as I threw backthe shutters after putting out my light. The military bugles tookup the sound with "taps, " and the figure of the sentry on the bridgewas a moving patch of black in the moonlight. 

The Division Superintendent started inland the next morning to placethe men teachers in their stations, and as he required the servicesof the American teacher in interpreting, I was told to go over andtake charge of the boys' school, at that time the only one organized. 

I went across the plaza and found two one-story buildings of stone withan American flag floating over one, and a noise which resembled thedin of a boiler factory issuing from it. The noise was the vociferousoutcry of one hundred and eighty-nine Filipino youths engaged instudy or at least in a high, throaty clamor, over and over again, of their assigned lessons. When I went in, they rose electrically, and shrieked as by one impulse, "Good morning, modham. " They wereso delighted at my surprise at their facility with English that theygave it to me over and over again, and I saw that they had intuitionsof three cheers and a tiger. 

When I had explained to the teacher that I was there to relieve him, he explained it to the boys, and they replied with the same unanimityand the same robustness of voice, "Yis, all ri'!" So he went away, leaving me in charge of the boiler factory. 

It stays in my recollection as the most strenuous five hours' labor Iever put in. Only two personalities were impressive, those of the pupilteacher who aided me, and who has since graduated from the Universityof Michigan (agricultural department), and of a very small boy who hadpossessed himself of a wooden box, once the receptacle of forty-eighttins of condensed milk, which he used for a seat. He carried the boxwith him when he went from one place to another, and more than onefight was generated by his plutocracy. He also sang "Suwanee River"in a clear but sweet nasal voice, and was evidently regarded as theshow pupil of the school. 

The school was popular not only with boys but with goats. Flocks ofthem wandered in, coming through the doors or jumping through thewindows. I soon found that Filipino children are more matter-of-factthan American children. Nobody giggled when our four-footed friendscame in, and until I gave an order to expel them their presence wasaccepted as a matter of course. When I suggested putting them out, I found the Filipino youth ready enough at rough play. The firstcharge nearly swept me off my feet, and turned the school into apandemonium. After that the goats were allowed to assist in theclasses at their pleasure. 

During the next three days, what with the labor of school and thefatigue of entertaining most of the population of Capiz during callinghours, I was almost worn out. The Division Superintendent came back thelatter part of the week, and the _Presidente_, or mayor, sent out, athis request, a _bandillo_ to announce the opening of a girls' school. 

The bandillo corresponds to the colonial institution of the towncrier. It consists usually of three native police, armed with mostferocious-looking revolvers, and preceded by a temporary guestof municipal hospitality from the local _calabozo_. This citizen, generally ragged and dirty and smoking a big cigar, is provided witha drum which he beats lustily. The people flock to doors and windows, and the curious and the little boys and girls who are carrying theirbaby relations cross saddle on their hips, fall in behind as for acircus procession. At every corner they stop, and the middle policemanreads the announcement aloud from a paper. Then the march is takenup again by those who desire to continue, and the rest race back totheir doorways to wag their tongues over the news. The bandillo makesthe rounds of the town and returns to the municipal hall whence itstarted. The prisoner goes back to jail, the police lay aside theirbloodthirsty revolvers, and such is the rapidity with which news fliesin the Philippines that, in a little more than twenty-four hours, the essentials of the bandillo may be known all over the province. 

In spite of the bandillo I waited long for a pupil on the day ofopening my school. My little friend of the milk box deserted his ownclasses and stationed himself at my door. After an interminable timehe thrust his head inside the door and announced, "One pupil, letty. "

It was a very small girl in a long skirt with a train a yard long andwith a gauzy camisa and pañuelo--a most comical little caricature ofwomanhood. She was speechless with fright, but came on so recklesslythat I began to suspect the cause of her determination. It was, in truth, behind her as my groom of the front yard soon let meknow. Again the elfin face and the wiry pompadour leaned round thedoor-jamb--"One more pupil, letty, --dthe girl's modther. "

But she was not a pupil, of course, and she had only come in responseto the heart promptings of motherhood, white, black, or brown, to talkabout her offspring to the strange woman who was to usurp a mother'splace with her so many hours of each day. She was quite as volubleas American mothers are, and her daughter was quite embarrassed byher volubility. The child sat stealing frightened glances at me andresentful ones at her mother. 

Half an hour later, three more girls came in, and they continuedto drop in during the rest of the morning till I had forty-fiveenrolled. Some of them were accompanied by their dogs, which curledup under the benches without disturbance. Several nursemaids alsohappened along to give their charges a peep at the American school, and a crowd of citizens peered in at doors and windows and madeaudible remarks about the new institution. 

Within a few days the enrolment ran up to one hundred andforty-nine. As this was too large a body to be handled by me alone, the teacher of Spanish days was brought back to the school, pending thearrival of more teachers from the States. She was a plump, middle-agedbody who had a little--a very little--English, but whose ideas ofdiscipline, recitation, and study were too well fixed to permit ofaccommodation to our methods. She was unfailingly polite and kind, though I could see that she was often harassed by the innovations towhich she could not accustom herself. 

The school-house was one immense room, and one of the first acts ofthe Division Superintendent was to set in motion the forces whichshould separate it into three. This took time. First the Presidentehad to approve, and the town council to act on his suggestion. TheMunicipal Treasurer, a native official, had to certify the cost tothe Provincial Treasurer, an American civil appointee, and if thelast-named official approved, the council could make the appropriationand order the work done. 

Pending these changes, the Filipino teacher took one end of the roomand I the other. We were sufficiently far apart not to interfere witheach other's recitations. In order that all the pupils should havetheir reading and grammar recitations under my personal supervision, we changed classes at intervals. For the sake of the drill, I madethe children move from one part of the room to the other, insteadof changing with the other teacher myself. We made great effortsto accomplish this movement with order and decorum, but the resultat first was a fizzle. The double column always began to move withdignity, but by the time it had advanced ten steps, excitement beganto wax, the march became a hurry, the hurry grew to a rush, and therush ended in a wild scramble for front seats. One little maid inparticular was such an invariable holder of an advantageous positionthat my curiosity was aroused to see how she did it. I watched her, sawher glistening brown body--perfectly visible through the filmy materialof her single garment--dive under the last row of seats and emergetriumphant at the front while the press was still blocking the aisles. 

Disorder and excitement were, however, mere temporary conditions. Underrepeated admonition and practice, the Filipino children moved aboutwith more order and regularity, the habit of studying aloud wasovercome, and the school began to show the organization and disciplineto which Americans are accustomed. 

The hardest thing to overcome was their desire to aid me in mattersthat I could manage better alone. If some one whispered and I tappeda pencil, instantly half the children in the room would turn aroundand utter the hiss with which they invoke silence, or else theywould begin to scold the offender in the vernacular. Such acts led, of course, to unutterable confusion, and I had no little trouble inputting a stop to them. 

CHAPTER VIII

An Analysis of Filipino Character

American Pupils and Filipino Pupils Contrasted--The Filipinos' BeliefThat They Are Highly Developed Musicians--Their Morbid Sensitivenessto Criticism--Explanation of Their Desire for Education--TheirBelief That They Could Achieve Great Success in Manufactures, Arts, and Literature If Left to Govern Themselves--Their Lack of CreativeAbility--Dillettanteism of Leading Filipinos--Manual Jealousies ofthe People--Lack of Real Democratic Spirit in America--The Pride ofFilipino Men Compared to That of American Women. 

So long as they find firmness and justice in the teacher, Filipinochildren are far easier to discipline than are American children. Atthe first sign of weakness in the teacher or in the Government whichis behind him, they are infinitely more unruly and arrogant than arethe children of our own race. There is, in even the most truculentAmerican child, a sense of the eternal fitness of things which theFilipino lacks. American children are restless and mischievous. Theyare on the alert for any sign of overstepping the limits of lawfulauthority on the part of the teacher, and they have no compunctionsabout forcing him to recognize that he rules by the consent ofthe governed, and that he must not mistake their complaisance forservility. On the other hand, they have, with rare exceptions, arespect for the value of a teacher's opinion in the subjects whichhe teaches, and will seldom contradict or oppose him in mattersthat pertain wholly to learning. A class of American children whichwould support in every possible way one of their number in defyingauthority would not hesitate to make that same companion's life aburden to him if he should set up his own opinion on abstract mattersin contradiction to his teacher's. Except when a teacher signallyproves his incapacity, American children are willing to grant thebroad premise that he knows more than they do, and that, if he doesnot, he at least ought to know more. Filipino children reverse thisattitude. They are quite docile, seldom think of disputing authorityas applied to discipline, but they will naively cling to a positionand dispute both fact and philosophy in the face of quoted authority, or explanation, or even of sarcasm. The following anecdote illustratesthis peculiarity. It happened in my own school and is at first hand. 

One of the American teachers was training a Filipino boy to makea recitation. The boy had adopted a plan of lifting one hand in animpassioned gesture, holding it a moment, and of letting it drop, onlyto repeat the movement with the other hand. After he had prolongedthis action, in spite of frequent criticism, till he looked like afragment of the ballet of "La Poupée, " the teacher lost patience. 

"Domingo, " she said, "I have told you again and again not to makethose pointless, mechanical gestures. Why do you do it? They areinappropriate and artificial, and they make you look like a fool. "

Domingo paused and contemplated her with the pity which Filipinosoften display for our artistic inappreciativeness. 

"Madame, " he replied in a pained voice, "you surprise me. Thosegestures are not foolishness. They are talent. I thought they wouldplease you. "

In my own early days I was once criticised by one of the young ladiesof Capiz for my pronunciation of the letter _c_ in the Spanish word_ciudad_. I replied that my giving the sound of _th_ to the letter wascorrect Spanish, whereupon she advised me to pay no attention to theSpanish pronunciation, as the Filipinos speak better Spanish than dothe Spanish themselves. What she meant was that the avoidance of _th_sounds in _c_ and _z_, which the Filipinos invariably pronounce like_s_, is an improvement to the Spanish language. I imagined some ofthat young lady's kindred ten years later arguing to prove that theFilipino corruption of _th_ in English words--pronouncing "thirty" as"sirty, " and "thick" as "sick"--arguing that such English is superiorto English as we speak it. Here are some typically mispronouncedEnglish sentences: "If Maria has seben fencils and see loses sree, seewill hab four fencils left, and if her moser gibs her eight fencils, see will hab twel' fencils in all. " Here is another: "Pedro has a newfair of voots. " Another: "If one fint ob binegar costs fi' cents, sree fints will cost sree times fi' cents, or fikteen cents. " Itwould, I think, be hard to convince us that the euphonic changes inthese words are an improvement to our language. 

Some four years ago, I was teaching a class in the Manila School ofArts and Trades, and was giving some directions about the word formof English sentences. I advised the class to stick to simple directsentences, since they would never have any use for a literary stylein English. Some six or eight young men instantly dissented from thisproposition, and insisted that they were capable of acquiring the bestliterary style. Not one of them could have written a page of clear, grammatical, idiomatic English. I tried to make it clear to them thatliterary English and colloquial English are two different things, and that what they needed was plain, precise English as a medium ofexchange in business, and I said, incidentally, that such was theEnglish possessed by the major portion of the English-speaking race. Isaid that although the American nation numbered eighty millions, most of whom were educated and able to make an intelligent use oftheir language in conversation or in writing, the percentage of greatwriters and speakers always had been small and always would be so. 

When I had finished, the son of a local editor, arose and repliedas follows: "Yes, madame, what you say of Americans is true. But weare different. We are a literary people. We are only eight millions, but we have hundreds and thousands of orators. We have the literarysense for all languages. "

Nearly thirty years ago, when I was a pupil in the Kansas City, Missouri, High School, the stepson of a United States Circuit judgemade a brutally rude and insubordinate reply to a woman teacherwho said to him, in reference to an excuse which he had given fortardiness, "That is not a good excuse. " The young man turned aninsolent eye upon the teacher--a gray-haired woman--and replied, "It's good enough for me. What are you going to do about it?"

I cannot conceive that a Filipino child would be guilty of suchinsolence, such defiance of decency and order. But never have I metan American child who would have the artless indiscretion to puthimself in the position of Domingo. The American child does not mindviolating a rule. He is chary of criticising its propriety or itsvalue. In other words, the American child does not mind doing wrong, but he is wary of making a fool of himself; and I have yet to meetthe Filipino child who entertained the faintest suspicion that it waspossible for him to make a fool of himself. Nor is the attitude ofdissent among Filipinos limited to those who express themselves. Itis sometimes very trying to feel that after long-winded eloquence, after citation and demonstration, you have made no more real impressionupon the silent than upon the talkative, and that, indeed, the gentlereserve of some of your auditors is based upon the conviction thatyour own position is the result of indomitable ignorance. One of myfriends has met this spirit in a class in the Manila High School. Acertain boy insists that he has seen the iron head of a thunderbolt, and although he makes "passing grades" in physics, he does notbelieve in physics. He regards our explanations of the phenomena oflightning as a parcel of foolishness in no wise to stand the test ofhis own experience, and nothing can silence him. "But, ma'am, " he says, when electricity is under discussion, "I am see the head of a thunderunder our house. " This young gentleman will graduate in a year or two, and the tourist from the States will look over the course of studyof the Manila High School and go home telling his brethren that theFilipino children are able to compete successfully with American youthin the studies of a secondary education. I myself had a heart-breakingtime with a sixth-grade class in one of the intermediate schools ofManila. The children had been studying animal life and plant life, and could talk most learnedly about anthropoid apes, and "habitats"and other things; but they undertook to convince me that Filipinodivers can stay under water an hour without any diving apparatus, and that the reason for this power is that the diver is "brother toa snake"--that is, that when the mother gave birth to the child, shegave birth to a snake also, and that some mysterious power remainsin persons so born. 

Filipino children are not restless and have no tradition of enmitybetween teacher and pupil to urge them into petty wrong-doing. Theirattitude toward the teacher is a very kindly one, and they arealmost uniformly courteous. Their powers of concentration are notequal to those of American children, and they cannot be forcedinto a temporarily heavy grind, but neither do they suffer from theextremes of indolence and application which are the penalty of thenervous energy of our own race. They are attentive (which the Americanchild is not) but not retentive, and they can keep up a steady, evenpull at regular tasks, especially in routine work, at which Americanchildren usually rebel. In fact, they prefer routine work to variety, and grow discouraged quickly when they have to puzzle out things forthemselves. They will faithfully memorize pages and pages of matterwhich they do not understand, a task at which our nervous Americanchildren would completely fail. They are exceedingly sensitive tocriticism, and respond quickly to praise. Unfortunately the narrowexperience of the race, and the isolation and the general ignorance ofthe country, make praise a dangerous weapon in the hands of a teacher;for a child is apt to educe a positive and not a relative meaning fromthe compliment. Filipino children have not attained the mental stateof being able to qualify in innumerable degrees. If a teacher handsback a composition to an American boy with the words "Well done, "the child understands perfectly that his instructor means well ascompared with the work of his classmates. The Filipino is inclinedto think that she means positively well done--above the average forall the world. I once complimented a class in Capiz on the ease withwhich they sang four-part music, and said, what I truly feel, thatthe Filipinos are a people of unusual musical ability. They managedto extract from the compliment the idea that the musical developmentof the Filipinos is far in advance of that of the Americans. 

Middle-class Filipinos have a very inadequate conception of thetremendous wealth of artistic, literary, and musical talent interwovenwith the world's development, and are especially inclined to pridethemselves upon their racial excellence in these lines, where, intruth, they have achieved almost no development whatever in spite ofthe possession of undoubted talent. They do not understand the valueof long training, and are inclined to assume that the mere possessionof a creative instinct is final evidence of excellence in any art. 

It will be some time before what real talent they have will make itselffelt in any line, because it will take a great deal of tactful handlingto make them reveal their natural artistic trend instead of fallinginto imitation of Europe and America. It is strange that a people sotenacious of its opinions with regard to matters of fact should beso willing to surrender its ideal with regard to the thing of whicha nation has most reason to be tenacious, its natural expression. Butthe whole race is so morbidly sensitive to the sneer that everythingFilipino is necessarily crude that the young art student or the youngmusical student feels that his only hope of winning commendation isin painting or playing or composing after European models; while asfor the populace at large it has its own standards in which othermotives than artistic excellence play the largest part. 

I had a friend, a young Filipino girl, who has been one of the mostdiligent among the pupils of the American schools. She was stayingwith me two or three years ago when my publisher sent me a copy of aprimer intended for use in the Philippines, and which had just beengotten out in the United States. The publisher had spared no expensein his illustrations, and we were tremendously proud of the artisticside of the book. This Filipino girl had heard me use the expression"poor white trash, " and I had explained to her how the Southernnegroes use the words as a term of derision of those who fail tolive up to the traditions of race and family. When I took my bookto her in the joy of an author in her first complete production, she looked at it a minute and burst into tears. "Poor Filipinotrash!" was all she could say for a long time, and I finally piecedit out that she was enraged because the Filipino boys and girls inmy book were sometimes barefooted, sometimes clad in _chinelas_, andwore native camisas instead of American suits and dresses. I pointedout to her that not one Filipino child in a hundred dresses otherwise, but my argument was of no avail. The children in the American readerswore natty jackets and hats and high-heeled shoes, and winter wraps, even at play, and she wanted the Filipino children to look the same. 

A great deal has been said in the American press about the eagernessfor education here. The desire for education, however, does not comefrom any real dissatisfaction which the Filipinos have with themselves, but from eagerness to confute the reproach which has been heapedupon them of being unprogressive and uneducated. It is an abnormalcondition, the result of association of a people naturally proud andsensitive with a people proud and arrogant. At present the desire forprogress in things educational and even in things material is moreor less ineffective because it is fed from race sensitiveness ratherthan from genuine discontent with the existing order of things. Theeducated classes of Filipinos are not at all dissatisfied with thekind and quality of education which they possess; agriculturists arenot dissatisfied with their agricultural implements; the artisansare not, as a class, dissatisfied with their tools or ashamed oftheir labor. If you talk to a Filipino carpenter about the carefullyconstructed houses of America, he does not sigh. He merely says, "Thatis very good for America, but here different custom, " Filipino cooksare not dissatisfied with the terrible _fugons_ which fill their eyeswith smoke and blacken the cooking utensils, and have to be fannedand puffed at every few minutes and occasionally set the house onfire. The natural causes of growth are not widely existent, and it isstill problematic if they will ever come into being. Meanwhile growthgoes on stimulated by the eternal criticism, the sting of which theFilipinos would move heaven and earth to escape. 

Our own national progress and that of the European nations from whomwe are descended have been so differently conceived and developed thatwe can hardly realize the peculiar process through which Filipinosare passing. We cannot conceive of Robert Fulton tearing his hairand undertaking a course in mechanics with the ulterior view ofinventing something to prove that the American race is an inventiveone. We cannot imagine Eli Whitney buried in thought, wondering how hecould make a cotton gin to disprove the statement that the Americansare an unprogressive people. Cyrus Hall McCormick did not go out andmanufacture a reaper because he was infuriated by a German newspapertaunt that the Americans were backward in agriculture. Nor can wefancy that John Hay while dealing with the Chinese crisis in 1900 wascontinually distracting his mind from the tremendously grave pointsat issue by wondering if he could not do something a little clevererthan the other diplomats would do. 

All the natural laws of development are turned around in thePhilippines, and motives which should belong to the crowning yearsof a nation's life seem to have become mixed in at the beginning--acondition, due, of course, to the fact that the Filipinos beganthe march of progress at a time when the telegraph and the cableand books and newspapers and globe-trotters submitted their earlydevelopment to a harrowing comparison and observation. The Filipinois like an orphan baby, not allowed to have his cramps and colic andto cut his teeth in the decent retirement of the parental nursery, but dragged out instead into distressing publicity, told that hiswails are louder, his digestive habits more uncertain, his milk teethmore unsatisfactory, than the wails or the digestive habits or themilk teeth of any other baby that ever went through the developingprocess. Naturally he is self-conscious, and--let us be truthful--nothaving been a very promising baby from the beginning, both he andhis nurses have had a hard time. 

However, turned around or not, we are not responsible for thecondition. The Filipinos had arrived at the self-conscious stagebefore we came here, and we have had to accept the situation and makethe best of it. 

The American press of Manila, with the very best of intentions, hasindulged itself in much editorial comment, and the more the conditionof things is discussed, the more the native press strengthens in itsquick sensitiveness. The present attitude of the upper, or governing, class of Filipinos is this: "We want the best of everything in theworld--of education, of morals, of business methods, of social polish, of literature, art, and music, of roads and bridges, of agriculturalmachinery, and of local transportation, and we can attain thesethings. " They have laid down in the beginning a premise for which noinductive process can be found as justification, --that the Filipinopeople is capable of doing anything which any other nation has done;and that, given time and opportunity--especially the opportunity ofmanaging their own process of development--they will demonstratetheir capacity. The flat contradiction of this position which isnot infrequently taken by Americans in discussing Filipinos is, of course, as extreme as the Filipino position itself, and, as anobserver, I have little to do with either. But at the present time Ido feel warranted in stating that the mass of intelligent Filipinosfail to distinguish between critical or appreciative ability and realcreative ability, and that what they are acquiring in huge doses justnow is the critical and not the creative. Moreover, of the great bodyof persons who make the demand for the best, only a very few have anyidea of what is the best except in book learning and social polish. Theprominent men among the Filipinos to-day are those who were educatedin Europe or in Filipino schools modelled on European patterns. Theiridea of education is a social one--an education which fits a man tobe considered a gentleman and to be an adornment to the society ofhis peers. They have no conception of the American specializationidea in education which grants a doctor's degree to a man who says"would have went" and "He come to my house yesterday. " The Filipinoleaders have a perfectly clear idea of what they want educationally, of what they consider the best, and they are jealously watchingthe educational department to see that they get it. The Americanpress urges more and more manual training, and the Filipino press, because manual training is in the list of things marked "best, "echoes the general call. But there is no small body of hobbyists inthe Islands keeping a jealous eye on the manual-training departmentof education. It could be dropped out of the curriculum by simplyallowing it to become less and less effectual, and so long as noformal announcement was made the Filipinos would not find out whatwas being done. But in Manila and in most provincial towns there areenough Filipinos who know what musical instruction is to watch thatthe musical training be not too badly administered. 

There is plenty of complaint about the Sanitary System of Manila, there are plenty of people to complain about what _is_ being done, butthere is no small organized body of Filipinos whose paramount interestin life is fixed upon sanitation and health, and who make it theirthankless task to harry the department and to preach ceaselessly atthe unthinking public till they get what they want. The legislators ofthe Philippines are gentlemen born, men educated in conformity to theideals of education in aristocratic countries, but unfortunately theyhave not had, owing to the political conditions which have prevailedhere, the practical experience of an aristocratic body in otherlands. In Mrs. Ward's "William Ashe" there is an analysis of a goutyand rather stupid old statesman, who is so exactly a summary of whata Filipino statesman is _not_ that I cannot forbear quoting it here:

"He possessed that narrow, but still most serviceable fund of humanexperience which the English land-owner, while our English traditionsubsists, can hardly escape if he will. As guardsman, volunteer, magistrate, lord lieutenant, member (for the sake of his name andhis acres) of various important commissions, as military _attaché_even for a short time to an important embassy, he had acquired, by mereliving, that for which his intellectual betters had often envied him--acertain shrewdness, a certain instinct both for men and affairs whichwere often of more service to him than finer brains to other persons. "

The only large practical experience which Filipino leaders have enjoyedhas come through their being land-owners and agriculturists. Butagriculture has not been competitive; and when the land-owning classtravelled, it was chiefly in Spain, which can hardly be called aprogressive agricultural country. Of men of the artisan class whohave worked their way up by their own efforts from ignorance toeducation, from poverty to riches; of men who have had any largeavailable experience in manual labor or in specialised industries, the present Assembly feels the lack. The Filipino leaders are a bodyof polished gentlemen, more versed in law than in anything else, with varying side lines of dilettante tastes in numerous directions. 

Such as they are, the schoolboy desires to be. One of the periodicfrenzies of the local American press is an appeal to teachers--whyare they not remodelling character, why do not the aims and idealswhich it is their business to instil make a greater showing after tenyears of American occupation? American teachers have talked themselveshoarse, and as far as talking can go, they have influenced ideals. Thechild's _conscious ideal_ about which he talks in public, and towhich he devotes about one one-thousandth of his thinking time, issome such person as George Washington, or Abraham Lincoln, or JamesA. Garfield, who drove the canal boat and rose to be President ofthe United States. But the subconscious ideal which is always inhis mind, upon which he patterns unthinkingly his speech and hismanners and his dreams of success, is--and it would be unnatural ifit were otherwise--some local potentate who will not carry home hisown little bag of Conant currency when he receives his salary at theend of the month. What are a name and a few moral platitudes about adead-and-gone hero? What can they mean to a shirtless urchin with ahungry stomach, against the patent object-lesson of his own countrymanwhom not only his fellow citizens, but the invader, must treat withconsideration? It would be far easier to distract the attention of thechildren of the State of Ohio from their distinguished fellow-citizens, William H. Taft and John D. Rockefeller, to fix it upon the late LordCromer or that Earl of Halifax known as the "Trimmer, " than it is totell a Filipino child that the way to distinction lies through toiland sweat. Children are very patient about listening to talk, butthey are going to pattern themselves upon what is obvious. Twenty orthirty years from now, when the American school system will have aidedcertain sons of the people, men of elemental strength, to bully andfight their way to the front, and they will have become the evidencethat we were telling the truth--then will the results be visible inmore things than in annual school commencements and in an increasein the output of stenographers and bookkeepers. 

The weakest point in a Filipino child's character is his quick jealousyand his pride. His jealousy is of the sort constitutionally inimicalto solidarity. Paradoxical as the statement may seem, the Filipinosare more aristocratic in their theories of life than we are, and moredemocratic in their individual constitution. Our democracy has alwaysbeen tempered by common sense and practicality. We like to say atchurch that all men are brothers, and on the Fourth of July to declarethat they are born free and equal; but we do not undertake to put thesetheories into practice. Every individual citizen of the United Statesis not walking about with a harrowing dread of doing something thatadmits a lesser self-esteem than his neighbor may possess. If a firebreaks out in his neighborhood, and a little action on his part canstop it before it gets a dangerous start, he does not hesitate to actfor fear doing so will show him possessed of less personal pride thanhis neighbor up the street. If he is earning sixty dollars a month, andlearns that some other employee in another house is getting more moneyfor the same work, he does not take the chances of starvation becauseto submit to the condition is to admit that he is less important thananother man. Yet the whole laboring element of the Filipino peopleis permeated by just such a spirit. It is practically impossible tofix a price for labor or for produce by any of the laws of supply anddemand that regulate such things elsewhere. The personal jealousies, the personal assertions of individuals continually interfere withthe normal conditions of trade. If in the market some Americancomes along in a hurry and pays a peso for a fish, the normal priceof which is about thirty-five cents, the price of fish goes up allthrough the market--for Americans. You may offer eighty cents and berefused, and the owner will sell two minutes after to a Filipino forthirty-five. But in so doing he does not "lose his face. " The otherman got a peso from an American, and a man who takes less--from anAmerican--is owning himself less able than his companions. 

We talk of democracy, but we never know how little democratic we aretill we come in contact with the real article. Can you conceive whatwould be the commercial chaos of America to-morrow if the humblestlaborer had the quick personal pride of the millionaire? With allour alleged democracy, we realize the impossibility of ringingMrs. Vanderbilt's doorbell and asking her to sell us a few flowersfrom her conservatory or to direct us to a good dressmaker, thoughwe can take just such liberties with houses where the evidences thatmoney would be welcome are patent. 

The American laborer does not mind going to and from his work inlaboring clothes, and he makes no attempt to seem anything but alaboring man. But you cannot tell in a Manila street car whetherthe white-clad man at your side is a government clerk at sixty pesosa month or a day laborer at fifteen. I once lost a servant becauseI commanded him to carry some clothes to my laundress. "Go on thestreet with a bundle of clothes, and get into the street car withthem! I would rather die!" he said; and he quitted rather than do it. 

Compare that with the average common-sense attitude of the Americanlaboring man or even the professional man. Until he becomes reallya great man and lives in the white light of publicity, the Americancitizen does not concern himself with his conduct at all as it relatesto his personal importance. He is likely to argue that he cannot docertain things which violate his ideal of manhood, or other thingswhich are inconsistent in a member of the church, or other thingswhich are unworthy of a democrat, or of a member of the school board, or even of an "all-round sport. " Whatever the prohibitive walls whichhedge the freedom of his conduct, each is a perfectly defined one, a standard of conduct definitely outlined in his mind, to which he haspledged his allegiance; but he has no large conception that most usefulthings are forbidden pleasures to him because of a sense of personalimportance. He has no God of the "I, " no feeling that makes him stayhis hand at helping a cochero to free a fallen and injured horse, while he looks to see that some other man of his class is helping also. 

There is a perfectly defined class system in the Philippines, and, between class and class, feeling is not bitter; but within eachclass jealousy is rampant. The Filipino, though greatly influencedby personality, does not yet conceive of a leadership based uponpersonality to which loyalty must be unswervingly paid. He feels thecharm of personality, he yields to it just so long as it falls inwith his own ideas, but the moment it crosses his own assertivenesshe is ready to revolt. Many Americans speak of this characteristicas if it were a twist in character. My own opinion is that it is apassing phase, due to the Filipino's lack of the "narrow, but mostserviceable fund of human experience. " But no matter to what causethe condition is due, it makes a great difference in the life of theindividual and of the social body as a whole that each unit has fixedhis ideal of conduct upon an illimitable consciousness of personalimportance, instead of upon perfectly defined ideals in particularmatters. It makes for femininity in the race. 

If the reader will meditate a little upon the difference betweenmasculine pride and feminine pride in America, he will probablyagree with me that masculine pride centres largely in loyalty towell-defined ideals of what is manly, or honorable, or bold, or just, or religious--in short, it tries to live up to the requirements of ahundred separate standards. On the other hand, feminine pride, outsideof its adherence to what is chaste and womanly, consists of pride inself, a kind of self-estimate, based frequently upon social position, sometimes on a consciousness of self-importance which comes through theadmiration of men. In either case the pride is likely to show itselfin a jealous exaction of consideration for the individual. Such isFilipino pride. It is almost wholly concerned in guarding its vestedrights, in demanding and exacting the consideration due the importanceof its possessor. 

Filipinos are hard to enlist in any new undertaking until they arecertain that success will bring "consideration. " They love newspapernotices and publicity, they love the centre of the stage, and everynew advance in intelligence is bulwarked by a disproportional demandfor "consideration. "

Filipino men are not lacking in manly qualities. They have the strongercourage, the relatively stronger will and passions which distinguishthe men of our own race. But they are harder to get along with thanare Filipino women, because their sense of sex importance is so muchexaggerated, and because, as Mr. Kipling would put it, they "have toomuch ego in their cosmos. " The secret consciousness of power is notenough for them. They must flash it every minute in your eyes, that youmay not forget to yield the adulation due to power. Like women, theyget heady on a small allowance of power; and indeed in both sexes thereare emphasized certain characteristics which we are accustomed to lookupon as feminine. Their pride is feminine as I have analyzed it. Theyrely upon intuition to guide them more than upon analysis. In enlistingcoöperation, even in public matters, they are likely to appeal to asentiment of friendship for themselves instead of demonstrating theabstract superiority of their cause. They will make a haughty publicdemand, but will not scruple to support it with secret petition andappeal. They are adepts at playing upon the weakness and petty vanityof others; and they deal gently with the strong, but boldly with theweak. Both men and women possess an abundance of sexual jealousy, and have, in addition, the quick sensitiveness about rank, worldlypossessions, and precedence which with us has become the reproachof the feminine. Lastly, they have, in its highest development, thecapacity to make a _volte-face_ with grace and equanimity. They arecunning, but not shrewd; their reasoning is wholly deductive, theyare inclined to an enthusiastic assent to large statements, especiallywhen these take the form of moral or political truisms; but they do notsubmit their convictions to practical working tests. They seem ofteninconsistent, but observation will show that, however inconsistenttheir practice is with their professions, it is always consistentwith their pride, as I have analyzed it in these pages. 

CHAPTER IX

My Early Experiences in Housekeeping

I Set Up Housekeeping--Romoldo's Ideas of Arranging Furniture--MyCheerful Environment--Romoldo's Success in Making "Hankeys"--HeIntroduces the Orphan Tikkia as His Assistant--The Romance of Romoldoand Tikkia. 

At the period of my advent in Capiz there were but two other Americanwomen there, wives of military men. Later our numbers were increased bythe wives of several civilian employees and two more women teachers. Inthose first days the hospitality of the military women made no smallbreak in the routine of my daily life. At the time of our appointmentwe teachers had been assured by a circular from the War Departmentthat we should enjoy the privileges of the military commissary; butthis ruling had been changed in the several months that had elapsed, and I found myself stranded with practically no access to Americantinned fruits and vegetables. I ate rice, fish, and bananas with thebest grace I could; and when, after a month of boarding, I decidedto set up housekeeping, and one of these ladies surreptitiously andwith fear and trembling presented me with a can of concentrated lye, my gratitude knew no bounds. My Filipino servant, named Romoldo, whom I had dubbed "The Magnificent, " was set to work cleaning upmy prospective dwelling; and I went out and secured the servicesof a trooper of the Tenth Cavalry to supplement the deficiencies inRomoldo's housecleaning instincts by some American brawn and muscle. 

The trooper, a coal-black African, had picked up a great deal ofSpanish, which he spoke with the corruption of vowel sounds peculiar tohis race and color. In addition to collecting the stipend agreed upon, he incidentally borrowed two dollars (U. S. ) of me. Now, I was broughtup in Missouri and knew enough of the colored race to be sure that Iwas bidding a fond adieu to the two dollars when I handed them to thetrooper. But I was not prepared for my henchman's persistence in havingthe extension of time made formal. I was willing to forget the twodollars and have done with them, but the African would not permit themto rest in peace. He presented himself regularly every two weeks toask for another fortnight's extension. Finally, when the regiment wasabout to leave the Islands, I insisted that he should accept the twodollars as an evidence of my good-will toward the United States Armyand the defenders of the flag, and he was graciously pleased so to do. 

The trooper's muscles were strong as his habits of renewal, and heand Romoldo scoured the floors of my new establishment until theshiny black accretions of twenty-five years of petroleum and dirthad given way to unpolished roughness, and then I set to work toget a new polish. Then we took hold of the furniture--heavy, wooden, Viennese stuff--and scrubbed it with zeal. My landlord came to lookin occasionally and was hurt. He said plaintively that they had had nocontagious diseases, and he asked why this deluge of soap and water. Ibasely declined to admit the flat truth, which was that the floorsand chairs were too greasy for my taste, but attributed our energyto a mad American zeal for scouring. He said, "Ah, _costumbre_!" andseemed to feel that the personal sting of my actions had been removed. 

In due time the house was clean, and I moved in. The sala, or drawing-room, was at least forty by thirty feet, with two sidesarcaded and filled with shell windows, which, when drawn back, gavethe room almost the open-air effect of a gallery. It was furnishedwith two large gilt mirrors, a patriarchal cane-seated sofa, severalwooden armchairs, eleven majolica pedestals for holding _jardinières_, and two very small tables. These last-named articles "the Magnificent"placed at the head of the apartment in such a position as to divideits cross wall into thirds, and then arranged all the chairs in tworows leading from the two tables, beginning with the most patriarchalarmchair and ending with the dining-room chair, the leg of whichwas tied on with a string. The effect was rigidly mathematical; andwhen my landlady came in and adorned each table with a potted rosegeranium, stuck all over with the halves of empty egg-shells to giveit the appearance of flowering, I felt that it was time to assertmyself. The egg-shells went promptly into the garbage box, and thechairs and tables were pulled about to achieve the unpremeditatedeffect of our own rooms. Then I went out for a walk, and returningfound that Romoldo had restored things to his own taste. Again Ibroke up his formation, so the next time he tried a new device. Heput one table at the top of the room and one at the bottom, with thechairs arranged in a circle around each one. This gave the pleasingimpression to one entering the room that a card game was ready tobegin. Again Romoldo's efforts were treated with contempt. 

For at least two weeks a deadly combat went on between Romoldo and me, in which I finally came off victor. At the end of that time he seemedto have accustomed himself to our ideas of decoration. He had, in ourweek's deluging, cleaned up the lamps of the chandeliers, brusheddown the cobwebs, and removed some half-dozen baskets of faded anddust-laden paper flowers. He administered the ironical consolationmeanwhile that their destruction did not matter, since my admiringpupils would see that the supply was renewed. To my eternal sorrow hewas a true prophet, and I had to contemplate green chrysanthemums andblue roses, and a particularly offensive hand-painted basket made ofplates of split shell. However, the potted palms and ferns with whichI ornamented the eleven pedestals made atonement; and when I came inafter a hard day's work and saw the unreal, golden-tinted light ofafternoon filling the dignified old room, I found it home-like andlovely in spite of the paper flowers and the shell basket. 

My bedroom was half as large as the sala, with a small room adjoiningit which I used for a dining-room, and at the back there were akitchen, a bathroom, closets, and a bamboo porch. For this shelter, furnished as it was, I paid the munificent sum of twenty-five pesosMexican currency, or twelve and one-half dollars gold per month. 

As my house was located over the second saloon in town--one of theregular, innocent, grocery-looking Filipino breed--and as it commandeda fine view of the plaza, guard mount, retreat, and Sunday morningchurch procession, I had at least all the excitement that was goingin Capiz. The American soldiers swore picturesquely over their dominoand billiard games down stairs; the "ruffle of drums" (though why socalled I know not, for it consists of a blare of trumpets) woke upthe sultry stillness at nine A. M. ; the great church-bells struck thehours and threw in a frenzy of noise on their own account at somesix or eight regular periods during the day; at twelve, noon, thevillage band stationed itself on the plaza to run a lively oppositionto the bells; and at sunset the charming ceremony of retreat broughtus all out to see the flag drop down, and to hear the clear, longbugle notes; and there were sick call, mess call, and several othercalls. Not the least beautiful of these was "taps. " I used to wait forit in the perfect stillness of starlit nights when the Filipinos hadall gone to bed, and the houses were ever so faintly revealed by thelanterns burning dimly in front, and the faintest gleam told wherethe river was slipping by. There would be no sound save the step ofthe trumpeter picking his way up the street. Then the church clockwould strike--not the ordinary bell, but a deep-throated one thatcould have been heard for miles--and as the vibrations of the laststroke died away, the first high-pitched, sweet notes would ring out, to fade away in the ineffable sadness of the closing strain. 

But if there was much that was novel and more that was noisy in thosefirst experiences, there was also plenty of irritation. As I statedbefore, I had brought Romoldo from Iloilo to Capiz with the idea ofusing him for a cook. In the days when I was still boarding, he hadconfirmed me in this intention by stating that he had had experiencein that line with an American army officer. He was particularlyenthusiastic over his achievements with "hankeys. " For a long while, I could make nothing of this word, but at last I discovered that itwas his corruption of "pancakes. " I found out this fact by askingRomoldo to explain how he made "hankeys, " and by recognizing amonghis ingredients milk, eggs, and flour. 

As the Filipina with whom I boarded professed to be eager tolearn American cookery, I told Romoldo to make some "hankeys. " Inthe language of Virgil, I "shudder to relate" what those "hankeys"were. There were three, nicely piled on top of one another, after ourtime-honored custom. No words could fitly describe them. They resembledunleavened bread, soaked in a clarifying liquid, heated, pressed down, and polished on both sides. The Filipina tried to conceal her disgust, and pretended to accept my explanation that they were only a caricatureof our loved breakfast delicacy; but I could see that she thought Iwas trying to cover up my newly acquired sense of national deficiency. 

However, when I set up housekeeping, Romoldo was promoted to theoffice of chief cook and only bottle washer. He conveyed to me adelicate intimation that it was not proper for me to live withouta female attendant, and said that he had a friend--a young womanlately orphaned--who needed work and would be glad to have theposition. I was sufficiently unsophisticated in Filipino ways totake this statement at its face value. As the orphan was willingto labor for a consideration of one dollar gold per month and room, the experiment could not be an expensive one. 

The orphan duly arrived, escorted by Romoldo. He carried her trunkalso, consisting of several garments tied up in a cotton handkerchief. 

Her name, as Romoldo pronounced it, was Tikkia (probably Eustaquia), and I could have wished she had been handsomer and younger. She wasa heavy-browed, pock-marked female, with a mass of cocoanut-oiledtresses streaming down her back, and one leg, bare from the kneedown, rather obtrusively displaying its skinny shin where her dressskirt was looped up and tucked in at the waist. She had no petticoat, and her white chemisette ended two inches below the waist line. Asit was not belted down, it crept out and lent a comical suggestionof zouave jacket to the camisa, or waist, of _sinamay_ (a kind ofnative cloth made of hemp fibres). She understood not one word ofSpanish or English. 

When I occupied my new home for the first night, I "ordered"fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner, and then went out inthe kitchen and cooked them. The army quartermaster had loaned mea range. Romoldo displayed an intelligent interest in the cookinglesson, but Tikkia seemed bored. When the potatoes were done, I gavethem to Tikkia to mash. Romoldo was in the dining-room, setting thetable. I told her in my best mixed Spanish and Visayan to mash them, and then to put them on the stove a few minutes in order to dry out anywater in them. She understood just that one word "water"; and when Ireturned, after being out of the kitchen a minute, the potatoes wereswimming in a quart of liquid. So I dined on fried chicken. 

For the first two or three weeks there were many ludicrous accidentsin my kitchen and some irritating ones. But on the whole Romoldo tookhold of things very well; and though my _menu_ broadened gradually, it was not long before he had learned a few simple dishes, and mylabor of supervision was much lighter. I said that I was pleasedwith Romoldo to the enlisted man who was in charge of the officers'mess and who incidentally made some market purchases for me. He said, "You ain't particular, " with a finality that left me no defence. Hewas mistaken, however. I am particular, but at that time I was stillin the somnambulance of philanthropy which brought us pedagogues tothe Philippines. 

I am willing to admit to-day that I vastly overrated Romoldo'sservices, and yet, considering the untutored state of his mind andthe extent of his salary, they were a good investment. There has beenamong some Americans here a carping and antagonistic spirit displayedtoward Filipinos, which reflects little credit upon our nationalconsistency or charity. We have a habit of uttering generalitiesabout one race on the authority of a single instance; whereas, withour own, the tendency is to throw out of consideration those singleinstances in which the actual, undeniable practice of the Americanis a direct confutation of what his countrymen declare is the racestandard. My kitchen under Romoldo's touches was not perfect, but Ihave seen worse in my native land. 

Romoldo being a young and rather attractive man, and Tikkia such afemale pirate, I insist that my failure to suspect a romance is atleast partially justified; and certainly never by word or glance didthey betray the least interest in each other. But some days after myestablishment had begun to run smoothly, one of the military ladiesasked me to dinner. The punkah string was pulled by a murderous-lookingex-_insurrecto_, who fixed me with a basilisk glance, half entreaty, half reproach. It became so painful that toward the end of dinner Iasked my hostess if his expression was due to his general frame ofmind or to a special aversion toward pedagogues. She replied thathe was probably bracing himself to approach me on a topic consuminghis very vitals, or as much of them, at least, as may be expressed inabsent-mindedness. Tikkia was his _matrimonio_, and I, the _maestra_had taken her and given her to Romoldo, and the twain lived in myhouse! The lady added that Tikkia was not _matrimonio en iglesia_--thatis, married in church--but only _matrimonio pro tem_. 

Pedro came into the sala after dinner and made his petition withhumility. He extolled his kindness to the ungrateful Tikkia, anddenounced Romoldo as a fiend and liar. He tried hard to weep, butdid not succeed. 

_0 tempora! O mores!_ Such are the broadening effects of travel and twoshort months in the Orient. Conceive of the old maid schoolteacherin America assuming the position of judge in a matrimonial--orextra-matrimonial--scandal of this sort. 

I promised justice to the sniffling Pedro, and told him to call forit next day at ten A. M. Like me, he supposed it would take the formof Tikkia. But when I reached home and summoned the culprits beforethe bar of a "moral middle class, " they were not disconcerted in theleast. Romoldo stood upon high moral ground. Tikkia might or mightnot be married. It was nothing to him, and he did not know. She was anorphan of his acquaintance to whom he wished to do a kindness. Tikkiapromptly drew up her skirt over the unexposed knee and showed afilthy sore which she said was caused by Pedro's playful habit ofdragging her about on stony ground by the hair. Moreover she stoodupon her legal rights. She was not _matrimonio en iglesia_, and shehad a right to leave Pedro when she chose. 

Pedro came next day at ten A. M. , but he did not get justice. On thecontrary, justice, as embodied in Tikkia, stood at the head of thestairs and said, "No quiero" as often as I (and Pedro) turned ourimploring eyes upon her. 

Things went on in this way for some time, and my perplexities offeredamusement to my friends. I felt sure that Romoldo and Tikkia werelying, and at one time I resolved to discharge them both. The youngAmerican teacher who had been in the Islands since the beginning ofour occupation gave me some sound advice. He said: "What on earth arethese people's morals to you? Romoldo is a good servant. He speaksSpanish, and if you let him go for one who speaks only Visayan, your own housekeeping difficulties will be greatly increased. " ThenI pleaded the old-fash-ioned rural American fear that people mightthink the worse of me for keeping such a pair in my employ; andMr. S---- simply collapsed. He sat and laughed in my face till Ilaughed too. "We are not in America now, " was his parting remark;and I am still learning what a variety of moral degeneration thatsentence was created to excuse. 

I have already given more space than is warranted by good tasteto the romance of Tikkia and Romoldo. The affair went on till Ibegan to fear lest Pedro, in one of the attacks of jealousy to whichFilipinos are subject, should take vengeance and a _bolo_ in his ownhands. Fortunately, at the critical moment, Romoldo and Tikkia fellout. She kicked his guitar off the back porch and he complained thatshe neglected her work. Then she asked leave to return to her owntown for a few days, and the request was joyfully granted. Pedro alsoobtained a vacation. Their town was round the corner one block away, and there they retired. They greeted me pleasantly whenever I passedby, and Tikkia seemed in no wise embarrassed by her change of front. 

If I have described this incident in full, it is because it illustratesso perfectly the attitude of a large portion of the Filipino peopleon marriage. The common people seldom marry except, as we would termit, by the common-law marriage. When they do marry in church, it isquite as much for the _éclat_ of the function as for conscientiousreasons. Marriage in the church costs usually eight pesos (four dollarsgold), though cheaper on Sundays, and to achieve it is quite a markof financial prosperity. 

Of course, among the educated classes our own view of marriageprevails, though I have heard of instances where the common-law formwas still observed. In some towns it is customary for marriagesto take place but once a year; an American told me of descendingon a mountain town where the annual wedding festival was due, andof finding fifty-two happy couples in their gala attire wending adecorous procession toward the church. 

CHAPTER X

Filipino Youths and Maidens

Manners and Social Condition of Filipino Girls--SentimentalBoy Lovers--Love-making by Proxy--How Courtship is UsuallyPerformed--Premature Adolescence of Filipino Youth--The _BodaAmericana_--Filipino Girls Are Coquettes, But Not Flirts--Exposureof Filipino Girls to Unchaste Conversation--Unceasing Watchfulnessover Girls--Progressive Changes in All the Above Matters. 

With regard to their women the Filipinos are an Occidental peoplerather than an Oriental one. Marriage is frequently entered upon atthe will of the parent, but few parents will insist upon a marriagewhere the girl objects. While the social liberty accorded a young girlis much less than what is permitted in our own country, there is noOriental seclusion of women. Children accompany their parents to ballsand fiestas, and maidens are permitted to mingle freely in societyfrom their baby-hood. At fourteen or fifteen they enter formallyinto society and begin to receive attentions from men. In the upperclasses seventeen or eighteen is the usual time for marriage. By thetime a girl is twenty-two or twenty-three she is counted _passée_, and, if unmarried, must retire into the background in favor of heryounger sisters. 

The young girls are exceedingly attractive. They are slender, and their heads sit beautifully above long swan-like necks. Theydress their hair in a rather tightly drawn pompadour, and ornamentit with filigree combs set with seed pearls, or, if they are able, with jewelled butterflies and tiaras. Jewellery is not only a fashionhere, but an investment. Outside of Manila, Iloilo, and Cebu, banksare practically unknown. The provincial man who is well to do puts hismoney into houses and lands or into jewellery for his womankind. Thepoor emulate the rich, and wear in imitation what their wealthyneighbors can afford in the real. 

Filipino women never affect the dominating attitude assumed by youngAmerican coquettes. They have an infinite capacity for what we callsmall talk and repartee; and, as they never aim for brilliancy andare quite natural and unaffected, their pretty ways have all thecharm that an unconscious child's have. They love dress, and in onelightning flash will take you in from head to foot, note every detailof your costume, and, the next day, imitate whatever parts of itplease their fancy and fall in with their national customs. They areadepts at mimicry and among themselves will lash us mercilessly. Theystraighten up their shoulders, pull in the abdomen, and strut aboutwith a stiff-backed walk and with their hands hanging stiffly attheir sides. They themselves are full of magnetism and can advancewith outstretched hand and greet you in such a way as to make youbelieve that your coming has put sunshine in their lives. Theirchief talk is of lovers in the two stages of _pretendiente_ and_novio_, and they are full of hints and imputations to one anotherof love affairs. Among young people, in spite of the restrictionsput about them to keep the opposite sexes from meeting _tête-à-tête_or the remotest chances of "spooning, " the air is surcharged withromance. Apparently the Filipino boy has no period in his developmentin which he hates girls. At twelve or fourteen he waxes sentimental, and his love notes are the most reeking examples of puppy love andhigh tragedy ever confiscated by an outraged teacher. When writtenin the vernacular they are not infrequently obscene, for one of thesaddest phases of early sentiment here is that it is never innocent;but in English they run to pathos. One ludicrous phase of love-makingis the amount of third-person intervention--an outsider thrustinghimself into the matter to plead for his lovelorn chum. For someyears I made a collection of confiscated _billet-doux_, but they weredestroyed in one of the frequent fires which visit Manila. I can, however, produce a fair imitation of one of these kindly first aidsto the wounded. This is the prevailing style:

Miss----, _Lovely and Most Respectable Lady_:

I am do me the honor to write to you these few unworthy lines to tellyou why you are breaking the heart and destroying a good health ofmy friend Pedro. Always I am going to his house every night, and I amfind him weeping for you. He is not eating for love of you. He cannotsleep because he is think about your eyes which are like the stars, and your hairs which are the most beautiful of all the girls in thistown. Alas! my friend must die if you do not give him a hope. Everyday he is walking in front of your house, but you do not give to himone little word of love. Even you do not love him, you can stop hisweep if you like to send him one letter, telling to him that you arenot angry to him or to me, his friend. 

I have been informed by several persons that there is an officialetiquette about this sort of correspondence. When a boy decides thathe has fallen in love with a schoolmate or with any other young girl, no matter whether he knows her or not, he writes her a letter in thefirst person similar to the above. If she ignores the letter utterly, he understands that he does not please her--in brief, that "No Irishneed apply. " But if she answers in a highly moral strain, professingto be deeply shocked at his presumption, and informing him that shesees no way to continue the acquaintance, he knows that all is well. Hesends her another letter, breathing undying love, and takes steps to beintroduced at her home. Once having obtained a calling acquaintance, he calls at intervals, accompanied by seven or eight other young men, and, in the general hilarity of a large gathering, endeavors to snatcha moment in which to gaze into the star-like eyes of his _innamorata_, or to gloat over her "hairs which are the most beautiful. "

The lover's habit of fortifying himself with the society of his fellowmen would be the last which an American boy could understand. But aFilipino swain rarely presents himself alone at a house to call. Hefeels, perhaps, that it makes him conspicuous. The whole race, for that matter, is given to the habit of calling in droves. If aFilipino girl goes to an office on business, her mother and fatherdo not constitute a sufficient escort. Her brothers, cousins, a fewadmirers, and possibly a female friend or two are added to the parentalguardians, till the bodyguard assumes the appearance of a delegationlarge enough to negotiate a treaty. One of the division superintendentstells a story which shows the humorous American recognition of theinconveniences of this habit. The Superintendent had recommended twoyoung girls as _pensionadas_, or government students, in the ManilaNormal School. It was their duty, on arriving in Manila, to reportto the Director of Education; and they must have done so in the usualforce, for the Director's official telegram, announcing their arrival, began in this pleasing strain: "Miss---- and Miss----, with relativesand friends, called this morning. "

The premature adolescence of the Filipino youth makes him veryrepellent to the American. One of the most frightful things which Iever saw was a play given in Spanish by children. The play itself wasone which Americans would never have permitted children to read orto see, much less to present. The principal character was a debauchedand feeble old man of the "Parisian Romance" type; it was played by anine-year-old boy, who made the hit of the evening, and who remindedme, in his interpretation of the part, of Richard Mansfield. Hisfamily and friends were proud of his acting, which was masterly, andlaughingly declared that his conception of the role was wholly hisown. If so, there was no need of laughter and there was much causefor tears. 

Here is a short essay written by a twelve-year-old boy, in response toan order to write a composition about what he had done the previousday. 

"Yesterday I called upon all my young lady friends. None but thefathers appeared. We must all be judged according to our works. "

The child wrote this by constructing the first sentence himself, andby picking the other two out of phrase-books, which from some sourceor other are scattered all over the Philippine Islands. What he meantto convey in the carefully pieced mosaic was that he was a dangerousfellow, and that when he came around the fathers kept a close eye ontheir daughters. That is dubious wit in a man of thirty. In a childof twelve it is loathsome. 

Engagements are usually announced at once and are seldom long--fromthree weeks to three or four months. If the marriage is really forlove, as is not infrequently the case, the lovers must have a hardtime of it; for they never see each other alone, and "spooning" beforeothers would seem to them in the last degree scandalous. They havemarvellous self-control. I have watched many a pair of Filipino loversfor the stolen glances, the shyness, the ever-present consciousnessof each other which are characteristic of our lovers, and I havenever beheld the faintest evidence of interest in any engaged ornewly married couple. They manage to preserve an absolutely woodenappearance at a time when one would expect a race so volatile todisplay its emotions freely. 

Elopements sometimes take place and are called the _boda Americana_, or American marriage. However, they have the advantage of us inone kind of elopement--that of the widow. Runaway marriages betweenwidows and old bachelors are not a common feature of American life, but they seem to constitute the most frequent form of elopementhere. Forced marriages occur in spite of the restrictions put aroundyoung girls. They cause a ten days' hubbub, winks, nods, and muchgiggling behind fans. But no social punishment and ostracism ofthe girl follows as in our own country. So long as the marriage isaccomplished, the Filipinos seem to feel that the fact of its being alittle late need disturb no one. But if, as sometimes happens, a girlis led astray by a married man, then disgrace and punishment are herlot. I recall a circumstance where a young girl under a cloud left hernative town, never to appear there again. But less than three monthsafter her banishment, her seducer was an honored guest, sitting atthe right hand of her brother, in the brother's own house. Apparentlythe best of feeling prevailed over a matter that with us could neverhave been forgiven, though bloodshed might perhaps have been averted. 

In my eight years in those Islands I have met among the upper classesbut one young girl whose conduct offered reason to men to take herlightly. In a pretty, childish way, Filipino girls are coquettes, but they are not flirts. Their conception of marriage and of theirduty to their own husbands and their children is a high and nobleone. Nevertheless, with innately good and pure instincts, they cannottake half as good care of themselves as can the American girl who ismore indiscreet, who knows much less of the matters pertaining to loveand sex. The latter has an infinite advantage over her dusky sister inthe prudery of speech which is the outwork in a line of fortificationsin which a girl's tenacity to her own ideal of chastity must be thefinal bulwark, A frankness of speech prevails in the Philippineswith regard to matters about which we are frank under necessity, but which, as far as possible, we slide into the background. Storiesare told in the presence of young girls, and jokes are interchanged, of more than questionable nature according to our standards. Ourprudery of speech is the natural result of the liberty permitted towomen. When the protection of an older woman or of a male relative isdone away with, and a girl is permitted to go about quite unattended, the best and the surest protection that she can have is the kind ofmodesty that takes fright at even a bare mention, a bare allusion, to certain ordinarily ignored facts of life. 

The result of general freedom of speech and the process of safeguardinga girl from its results is to make a Filipino girl regard her virtueas something foreign to herself, a property to be guarded by herrelatives. If, through negligence or ignorance on the part of herproper guardians, she is exposed to temptation, she feels herselffree from responsibility in succumbing. Such a view of life puts ayoung girl at a great disadvantage with men, especially with men sogenerally unscrupulous as Filipinos, Among the lower classes there is no idea that a young girl can respectherself or take care of herself. Girls are watched like prisoners, and are never allowed to stray out of the sight of some old woman. Itis almost impossible for an American woman to obtain a young girlto train as a servant, because, as they say, we do not watch themproperly. This jealous watching of a child's virtue is not, however, always inspired by the love of purity. Too frequently the motive isthat the girl may bring a higher price when she reaches a marriageableage, or when she enters into one of those unsanctified alliances withsome one who will support her. Filipino men are merciless in theirattitude toward young lower-class girls, not hesitating to insult orannoy them in the most shameless way. I once forced a little maid ofmine to wear the regular maid's dress of black, with muslin cap andapron, and she was certainly a joy to the eye; but one day I sent herout on an errand, and she came back almost hysterical under the torrentof ribald admiration which my thoughtlessness had brought upon her. Aseamstress will not remain alone in your house while you run intoa neighbor's on an errand without bolting herself in the room; and, if you are to be gone any length of time, she will not stay there atall, simply because she is afraid of your men servants--and justly so. 

However, in respect to such matters, things are changing fast. TheFilipinos who love us least, high or low, rich or poor, admit that theAmerican idea of treating every self-respecting woman with respect isa good thing. They remark frequently the difference between now andformer times, and say, with admiration, that a woman can go past the_cuartels_ or the fire stations, without encountering insult in theform of _galanteria_; and the electric street-car line, suspectedat first, has gained the confidence of nearly all. Many Filipinofamilies of the upper class permit their daughters to go to and fromthe American schools on the trolley car, and it is no uncommon thingto see three or four youngsters, all under ten, climbing on and offwith their books, asking for transfers, and enjoying their liberty, who ten years ago would have been huddled into a quilez and guardedby an elderly woman servant. 

Lastly, a bill for female suffrage was introduced into the PhilippineAssembly a few weeks ago. It is one of those "best" things whichFilipinos all want for their land. The young man who introduced it hadprobably been reading about the female suffragist movement in England, and he said to himself that it would be a fine idea to show thisdull old world how progressive and modern are the Philippine Islands;and so he drafted his bill. Nothing seems to have been heard of it, and it was probably tabled, with much other progressive legislation, in the hurry of the last days of the session. Another bill was one toput an annual license of one thousand pesos (five hundred gold dollars)on every minister of the gospel, Protestant or Catholic. I suspect itsparent of having been coached up on modern French thought. However, that is not pertinent to the woman question. What I desire to do isto give a correct impression of a country where _real_ conditions aresuch as I have described them, and _ideal_ conditions have advancedto the point of a bill for female suffrage. 

CHAPTER XI

Social and Industrial Condition of the Filipinos

American and Tagalog Invaders of Visaya Compared--Doubt As tothe Aptitude of Filipinos for Self-Government--Their CivilizationNot Achieved by Themselves But Inherited from Spain--Their PresentPersonal Liberty--Belief of the Poor That Alien Occupation is theRoot of Their Misery--How the Filipinos View Labor--Their ApathyToward Machinery--Their Interest Centred Not in Industry But inThemselves--Their Hazy Conceptions of Government--Their Need ofa Remodelled Social System--Their Jealousy Lest Others Make LargeProfits in Dealing with Them--Zeal of the Aristocrats to PreserveTheir Prerogatives--A New Aristocracy Likely to Be Raised by theAmerican Public Schools. 

Capiz was occupied by a company of the Tenth Cavalry and one of theSixth Infantry. The relations between Americans and Filipinos seemedmost cordial. There had never been any fighting in the immediateneighborhood of the town. The Visayans are a peaceful race; evenin the insurrection against Spain the Capizeños felt a decidedpro-Spanish sentiment. Early in the rebellion a few boat-loads ofTagalog soldiers came down from Luzon, and landed on the open northcoast two miles from the town. The valiant Capizeños had dug sometrenches on the beach and had thrown up a breastwork there, andthey went out to fight for Spain and Visaya. They fired two roundswithout disconcerting the Tagalogs very much, and then, having nomore ammunition, they "all ran home again, " as my informant naïvelydescribed it. The Tagalogs took possession of the town, and theVisayans lived in fear and trembling. Nearly all women, both wivesand young girls, carried daggers in fear of assault from Tagalogsoldiers. Some declared to me that they would have used the daggersupon an assailant, others told me that the weapons were intended asa last resort for themselves. The Spanish wife of our Governor saidthat during the time of Tagalog occupation she seldom ventured out ofher home; that she discarded her European dress, affected the nativecostume, wore her hair hanging down her back, and tried in every wayto keep from attracting the attention of the invaders. Nevertheless, several young girls were seized in spite of their parents' efforts toprotect them. Many families fled from the town and took refuge in themountain villages inland. Others lived in boats, lurking about therivers and the innumerable waterways which criss-cross the swampycoast plain. When the Tagalogs withdrew, the wanderers returned totheir homes, only to make a fresh exodus when the Americans came. 

The Americans did not land on the north coast, but entered thetown from the south, having marched and fought their way up thefull length of the island from Iloilo. Horrid rumors preceded themconcerning their gigantic size and their bloodthirsty habits. It wasreported that they had burned hundreds of women and children alive atIloilo. The timid Capizeños had no idea of resistance, but, for themost part, closed their houses, leaving some old servant in charge, and took once more to the hills and the swamps. A few sage headshad their own reasons for doubting the alleged American ferocity, and decided to stay at home and risk it. 

One of my pupils, a very intelligent young girl, described to me theAmerican entry. She said that the houses of the rich were closed, shell windows were drawn to, and the iron-sheathed outer doorswere locked and barred. But most shell windows have in the centre alittle pane of glass to permit the occupants of the house to look outwithout being seen. My young friend told me how her family were all"peeking, " breathless, at their window pane, and how the first viewof the marching columns struck fear to their hearts, so tall andpowerful seemed the well-clad, well-armed men. A halt was called, and after the proper formalities at the _provoste_, or town hall, the municipality was handed over to American rule, and the Stars andStripes floated from the local flagstaff. The soldiers were permittedto break ranks, and they began buying fruits and bottles of beer andof native wine in the _tiendas_, or shops. The soldiers overpaid, of course, joked, picked up the single-shirted pickaninnies, tossedthem, kissed them, and otherwise displayed their content. Then, saidmy informant, her father (who is an astute old fellow) decided thatthe story of American ferocity was a lie. He ordered his house opened, and the shell windows slid back, revealing his pretty daughters intheir best raiment, smiling and bowing. The officers raised theircaps and gave back smiles and bows; a few natives cried, "Viva losAmericanos, " and behold, the terrible event was all over. 

Acquaintance was at once struck up. The officers came to pay theirrespects, drank beer and muscatel, consumed sweets, and paid floridcompliments in Spanish. They began to take possession of those houseswhose owners were out of town, and the news went out. Then there wasas great a scramble to get back as there had been to get away. Ina few days everything was running smoothly, and, as my interlocutorremarked, all the American officers were much in love with the charmingFilipino girls. 

Almost the first act of the military was to open the schools. Theschoolhouses had been used as barracks by the Tagalogs. The chaplainof the Eighteenth Infantry, the children told me, was their firstteacher. The opening of the schools was a great surprise to theFilipinos, who were clever enough to appreciate the national standardswhich the act implied. 

At the time of my arrival the foregoing facts were, in the rush ofevents, almost ancient history. Two years had passed. American women, wives of officers, had come and gone. Peace had been declared andthe machinery of civil government had been put in action. 

It would be foolish for me to spend time discussing the Filipino'saptitude for self-government. Wiser heads than mine have alreadyarrived at a hopeless _impasse_ of opinion on that point. There arepeculiarities of temperament in the Filipino people which are seldomdiscussed in detail, but which offer premises for statements anddenials, not infrequently acrimonious, and rarely approached in adesire to make those judging from a distance take into considerationall that makes opinions reliable. Such peculiarities of characterseem to me pertinent to a book which deals with impressions. 

Whatever their capacity for achieving the Anglo-Saxon ideal ofself-government, it ought to be recognized that the Filipinos are bothaided and handicapped by receiving not only their government but theircivilization ready made. Their newly aroused sense of nationalityis asserting itself at a period in the world's development whenthe mechanical aids to industry and the conscience of a humane andcivilized world relieve Filipino development from the birth throes bywhich other nations have struggled to the place at which the Filipinosbegin. Thus, at the same time that individuals are spared the painfulexperiences which have moulded and hardened the individual units ofother races, the Filipinos have, as a race, received an artificialimpetus which tends to deceive them as to their own capacity, andto increase their aggregate self-confidence, while the results ofpersonal ineptitude are continually overlooked or excused. 

Both civilization, as acquired in the three hundred years of Spanishoccupation, and self-government have descended upon the Filipinovery much as the telephone and the music box have done--as completemechanisms which certain superficial touches will set in motion, the benefits of which are to certain classes and individuals quiteobvious, and the basic principles of which they have memorized buthave not _felt_. At present there are not, in the emotional beingof the Filipinos, the convictions about liberty and governmentwhich are the heritage of a people whose ancestors have achievedliberty and enlightenment by centuries of unaided effort, andwho are willing to die--die one and all--rather than lose them;and yet there is a sincere, a passionate desire for politicalindependence. The Filipino leaders, however, have no intention ofdying for political independence, nor do they desire to sacrificeeven their personal pleasures or their effects. They talk a greatdeal about independence, they write editorials about it, it fillsa great part of their thoughts; and no reasonable person can doubttheir sincerity. But most of the political talk in the Philippines ison a par with certain socialistic thought in the United States--thesocialistic talk of modern writers and speakers, of idealists anddreamers. It seems as great a perversion of abstract justice, to aFilipino, that an alien nation should administer his Government, asit seems to a hard-working American woman that she should toil allher life, contributing her utmost to the world's progress and thecommon burden of humanity, while her more fortunate sisters, by themere accident of birth, spend their lives in idleness and frivolity, enriched by the toil of a really useful element in society. Butto most Filipinos, as to most American women, the contemplation ofthe elemental injustice of life does not bring pangs sufficient todrive them into overt action to right the injustice. There are a fewFilipinos upon whom the American administration in the Philippinespresses with a sense of personal obstruction and weight heavy enoughto make them desire overt action; but upon the majority of the racethe fact of an alien occupation sits very lightly. No man, Americanor Filipino, wants to risk his life for the abstract principles ofhuman justice until the circumstances of life growing out of theviolation of those principles are well-nigh unendurable to him. Theactual condition of the Philippines is such that the violation ofabstract justice--that is, alien occupation--does not bear heavilyupon the mass of the people. For the entire race alien occupationis, for the time being, an actual material benefit. Personal libertyin the Philippines is as absolute as personal liberty in the UnitedStates or England. Far from making any attempt to keep the native ina condition of ignorance, the alien occupiers are trying to coax orprod him, by all the short cuts known to humanity, into the semblanceof a modern educated progressive man. There is no prescription whichthey have tried and found good for themselves which they are notimporting for the Philippines, to be distributed like tracts. And tothe quick criticism which Filipinos of the restless kind are proneto make, that what is good for an American is not necessarily goodfor a Filipino, the alien occupiers may reply that, until the bodyof the Filipino people shows more interest in developing itself, anyprescription, whether it originate with Americans or with those wholook upon themselves as the natural guides and rulers of this people, is an experiment to be tried at the ordinary experimental risk. 

The common people of the Philippine Islands enjoy a personal libertynever previously obtained by a class so rudimentary in its educationand in its industrial development. They would fight blindly, at thecommand of their betters, but not because they are more patriotic thanthe educated classes. The aristocrats, who would certainly hesitateto fight for their convictions, really think a great deal more abouttheir country and love it a great deal more than do the common people, who would, under very little urging, cheerfully risk their lives. Butthe poorer people live under conditions that seem hard and unjustto them. The country is economically in a wretched state, and theworking-classes have neither the knowledge nor the ambition to applythemselves to its development. Unable to discover the real cause oftheir misery (which is simply their own sloth), they have heard justenough political talk to make them fancy that the form of governmentis responsible for their unhappy condition. With them the causes whichdrive men into dying for an abstract idea do exist; and it is easyfor a demagogue to convince them that the alien occupation is theroot of all evil, and that a political change would make them all rich. 

Among the extremely poor of the Filipinos there exists a certainamount of bitterness against Americans, because they think that ourstrong bodies, our undoubtedly superior health and vitality, ourmanner of life, which seems to them luxurious past human dreams, and our personal courage are attributes which we enjoy at theirexpense. The slow centuries which have gone to our building up, mental and physical, are causes too remote for their limited thinkingpowers to take into consideration. Moreover, though we say that wehave come to teach them to work and to make their country great, we ourselves do not work; at least, they do not call what we do_work_. A poor Filipino's conception of work is of something thattakes him into the sun or that soils his clothing. Filipinos hate andfear the sun just as they hate the visible tokens of toil on theirpersons. Where they know the genteel trades such as hat weaving, dressmaking, embroidering, tailoring, and silversmithing, thereis relatively a fair industrial willingness. Men are willing to becooks and house servants, but they do not want to learn carpentry orblacksmithing or gardening, all of which mean soiled clothes and hotwork; and women are unwilling to work in the kitchen. From the poorFilipinos' standpoint, the Americans do not work--they rule. It wouldbe difficult to make a Filipino of the laboring class believe thata teacher or a provincial treasurer had done a day's work. Loving, as all Filipinos do, to give orders to others, ignorant as they areof the responsibilities which press upon those who direct, they seemerely that we do not soil our hands, and they envy us without givingus credit for the really hard work that we do. 

Meanwhile there pours in upon the country a stream of modern mechanismand of modern formulated thought, and the laborer has just as littlereal interest in knowing what is inside the machine as his slightlymore intelligent neighbor has in examining the thought and in acceptingor rejecting it on its merits. Some accept all that we offer them, doing so in a spirit of real loyalty, on the assumption that we knowmore than they do, and that our advice is to be accepted. Othersreject everything with a blind resentment because it comes fromour hands. They feel that, in accepting or rejecting, they aredemonstrating their capacity to do their own thinking, when in realitythey are only asserting their right to do their own _feeling_. A senseof discrimination in what they accept or reject in our thought hasnot yet appeared, to any great extent, in those classes of Filipinoswith whom I have come in contact; nor as yet have I ever beheld in thelaboring classes a desire to understand the mechanisms to which theyare constantly introduced, which will be the first symptoms of growth. 

A few weeks ago a Filipino workman was making an electric lightinstallation in my house. He handled the wires very carelessly, andI asked him if he was not afraid of a shock. On his replying thatthe current was very light, I put the inevitable American query, Howdid the company manage to get a light current on one street, and atthe same time to keep up the current in other parts of the city? Hisreply was, "There is a box on Calle San Andres, and the current goesin strong on one side and comes out light on the other, " On my askingif he knew how the box was able to produce such a result, he repliedblithely that he did not know; and to a third question, why he didnot try to find out, he asked me why he should _want_ to know. Hewas a very ignorant man, but his attitude was not uncharacteristic ofmuch wiser men than he. I discovered one morning, in talking to themost advanced class in the Manila School of Arts and Trades, that notone of them knew what steam is, or had any idea of how it is appliedto manufacture; and yet they were working every day, and had beenworking, most of them for two or three years, in the machine-shopsand the wood-working shops where a petroleum engine was in constantoperation. The boys had shown such a courteous interest in what waspointed out to them, and had so little real interest and curiosityin what they were working with, that their shop teachers had neverguessed that they did not know the elementary principles of mechanics. 

If a flying machine should suddenly descend in an American villagewith no sign of steam gear, electric motor, compressed air, or anyother motive power with which we are familiar, can you imagine thateighty per cent of the population of the village would stand around, begging the inventor to make it fly and alight again, exhibiting allthe delight of children in a strange toy, but giving it not one closeglance, one touch to determine how it is made, and not even wonderinganything about it? Can you imagine all those people placidly acceptingthe fact that there are other nations interested in making strangemachines, and receiving the strange toy as an example of foreign energywith which, at that or at any other time, they had no concern? Yetsuch is the actual condition of affairs in the Philippine Islands, and I am not sure that my estimate of eighty per cent is not toolow. Filipinos of the educated classes, gentlemen who can talk about

 "The grandeur that was Greece, And the glory that was Rome, "

or who can quote Tom Paine or Voltaire or Rousseau, or discuss thefisherman's ring of the Pope, or the possibilities of an Orientalrace alliance, would give a glance at such a machine and dismissit with such a remark as this: "Ah! a new flying machine. Veryinteresting. If it proves practical, it should be a great benefit tothe Philippines. The Government should buy two or three and put themin operation to show the people how they can be used. "

The great majority of the Filipino people are simply apathetic towardthe material and spiritual appliances of their present status. (Pleasedo not infer, however, that they are apathetic toward the statusitself. ) Fortune is continually thrusting upon them a ready-madearticle, be it of transportation, of furniture, of education, oreven of creed. With no factories of its own, their land is delugedwith cheap manufactured goods. With almost no authors, they have beeninundated with literature and texts. With no experience in government, they have a complicated system presented to them, and are told to goahead, to fulfil the requirements, to press the button, and to letthe system do the rest. And they are, with few exceptions, makingthe mistake of assuming that their aptitude in learning to press thebutton is equivalent to the power of creating the system. They are likesome daring young chauffeur who finds that he can run an automobile, and can turn it and twist it and guide it and control it with thesame ease that its inventor does, and who feels that he is as fullyits master--as indeed he is, till something goes wrong. 

The intelligent Filipinos who are pressing for immediateself-government have no intentions of changing the "press-the-button"system if they get what they want. Nor can the American Government, ifit remain here, do any more than it is now doing to urge the Filipinointo real industrial and mental activity. Until the Filipino takesmore interest in _things_ than he takes in himself; until he learns toapproach life from some other standpoint than the social one, and withsome other object than seeing how large a figure he can cut in it, it makes no difference what flag flies over his head, his nationalexistence is an artificial one, a semblance of living nourished bythe selfishness of those with whom he has commercial relations. 

The intelligent Filipinos (I speak of the ordinary middle classesof Manila and the provinces, not of the really eminent Filipinoswho are associated with the Government, for with them I havelittle acquaintance) have had so little practical contact withthe great world, so little conception of what a strong commercialand manufacturing nation is, that it is impossible to make themunderstand that no nation of the present day can achieve greatnessexcept by industry. If you can get them to talk freely, you findthem absorbed in a glorious dream of the Filipino people dazzlingthe world with pure intellectuality--a Philippines full of poets, artists, orators, authors, musicians, and, above all, of eloquentstatesmen and generals. They do not reflect that a statesman is wastedwho has nothing but a handful of underfed people to govern, and thatit is commerce and agriculture which furnish the propelling powerto the ship of state on which the statesman is a pilot. They wantto be progressive, and their idea of progress is a constant streamof mechanical appliances flowing like water into the Philippinesfrom other lands; but they do not even consider where the money isto come from to pay for all the things they want. They howl likevictims over taxation, but they have a hazy idea that it is the dutyof their Government to seek out every labor-saving machine in theworld and to buy it and to put it in operation in the Philippinestill the inhabitants have accustomed themselves to its use, and haveobtained through its benefits the wherewithal to indulge in moreof the same sort. They do not concern themselves with the problemof the Government's getting the money to do all this, other thanthey think that if we Americans were out of the way, and the six oreight million pesos of revenue which go annually into our pocketswere going to Filipinos instead, there would be money in plenty forbattleships, deep-water harbors, railroads, irrigation, agriculturalbanks, standing armies, extended primary and secondary education;and that the resources of the Government would even permit of therepeal of the land tax, of the abolition of internal revenue taxes, and of the lowering of the tariff. One of their favorite dreams ofraising money is to put a tremendously high license upon all foreignersdoing business in the Islands; and so high an opinion have they bothof their value to the world at large and of their prowess, that theydo not take into consideration the probability of the foreigner'seither getting out of the country or appealing to his own Governmentto protect his invested capital. When they speak of independence, they invariably assume that America is going to protect them againstChina, Japan, or any of the great colony-holding nations of Europe. 

Such are the peculiar governmental conceptions of the middle-classFilipino--a class holding the ballot by the grace of God and theassistance of the American Government. Their inverted ideas comefrom real inexperience in highly organized industrial society, andfrom perfectly natural deductions from books. When they study Romanand Greek history, they learn there the names of generals, poets, artists, sculptors, statesmen, and historians. Books do not dwellupon that long list of thriving colonies which filled the Grecianarchipelago with traffic, and reached east and west to the shoresof Asia and to the Pillars of Hercules. The Filipinos learn thatRome nourished her generals and her emperors upon the spoils of war, but they do not reflect that the predatory age--at least in the Romansense--is past. Their imaginations seize upon the part played by thelittle island republic of Venice, and they gloat over the magnificenceof the Venetian aristocracy, but they hardly give a thought to thethousands of glass-blowers, to the weavers of silken stuffs, to theshipbuilders and the artisans, and to the army of merchants thatpiled up the riches to make Venice a power on the Mediterranean. 

Filipinos have come in contact, not with _life_ but with _books_, andtheir immediate ambition is to produce the things which are talkedof in books. Situated as these Islands are, remote from any greatmodern civilization, there is no criterion by which the inhabitantscan arrive at a correct estimate of their condition. If here and therea single Filipino educated in Europe should dazzle society with novelsor plays or happy speeches, most of his countrymen would be satisfiedwith his vindication of Filipino capacity. 

There are two things which are absolutely necessary to the futuredevelopment of the Philippines, whether they remain under our flagor become independent. One is a new aristocracy to be a new type ofincentive to the laborer; the other is an increase in the laborer'swants which will keep him toiling long after he has discovered thefutility of the hopes which urged him in the beginning. At present, the American Government is trying to remodel a social system whichconsists of a land-holding aristocracy and an ignorant peasantry, the latter not exactly willing to work for a pittance, but utterlyhelpless to extricate themselves from the necessity of doing so. Tothe aristocrat the Government says, "Come and aid us to help thybrother, that he may some day rob thee of thy prerogatives"; andto the peasant, "O thou cock-fighting, fiesta-harboring son ofidleness and good-nature, wake up, struggle, toil, take thy shareof what lies buried in thy soil and waves upon thy mountainsides, and be as thy brother, yonder. " Nor is my picture complete if I donot add that, under his breath, both peasant and aristocrat reply, "Fool I for what? That I may pick _thy_ chestnuts out of the fire. "

There is a story which illustrates the Filipino's sensitiveness topicking somebody else's chestnuts out of the fire, not inappropriate tobe told here. The agent of the Kelly Road Roller Company had made anagreement with a number of Filipinos in the Maraquina Valley to takeup a rice thresher and to thresh their crops for one-twelfth of theoutput. As this was cheaper than the usual cost of rice-threshing, they accepted the offer, but they were anxious to compare the newmachine with their own system. One way of threshing rice is to have akind of stone table like an armchair, in which the seat is a bowl forthe grain which drops down as the thresher strikes the laden stalksagainst the stone back. On the appointed day the American appearedwith his thresher, and the Filipinos were on hand with their stonetable and a confident expert who was reputed the best rice-thresherin the district. The American began to feed his machine, and theFilipino made his bundles cut the air. In a few seconds the Filipinohad quite a little handful of grain collected in his stone bowl, but not a grain of rice had appeared from the thresher. The workmancast supercilious glances at the machine, when suddenly a streamof rice as thick as his wrist began to pour out, and continued topour in startling disproportion to his tiny pile. He stood it half aminute and then laid down his bundle of stalks and strode away. Theonlooking land-holders were at first amazed and delighted. Thensuddenly a horrible thought struck them! They got out their pocketpads and pencils and began to figure. Then they held a consultationand declared that the deal was off--that for one-twelfth the amountof rice streaming out of the thresher, the American's profits wouldbe highway robbery of the poor Filipino. In vain the agent pointedout to them that the one-twelfth was a ratio in which their gain wouldalways be proportionate to his. They could see nothing except that hewas going to make a large sum of money at their expense. The economyof the thresher over their own wasteful system made no impressionagainst the fact that his commission would be a bulk sum which theywere unwilling to see him gain. They could not afford to buy themachine, but they stopped the threshing then and there; and the agentlearned that what is good advertising in America is not necessarilygood in the Philippines. 

The reader may fancy that he perceives in this chapter a directcontradiction of what I said in a preceding chapter about the Filipinoaristocrat's desiring the best of everything for his country. Butthe Filipino is like the sinner who says with all sincerity that hedesires to be saved, but who, when confronted with the necessity ofgiving up certain of his pleasures as the price of salvation, feelsthat salvation comes rather high, and begins to figure on how he canaccomplish the desired result without personal inconvenience. Thepresent land-holding aristocracy is jealous to the last degree of itsprerogatives, and it has fought every attempt to equalize taxationand to make the rich bear their fair share in the national expenseaccount. The land tax and the _rentas internes_, or internal revenuetax, are two governmental measures which the rich classes fought tothe extreme of bitterness, and which they would revoke to-morrow ifit lay in their power to do so. 

An aristocracy represents a survival of the fittest--not necessarilythe ideally fit, but the fittest to meet the conditions under which itmust prove a survivor. The conditions which Spain created here to mouldFilipino character were mediæval, monarchical, and reactionary. Thearistocracy is a land-holding one, untrained in the responsibilitiesof land-holders who grow up a legitimate part of the body politic oftheir country. Previous to American occupation the aristocracy wasexcluded from any share in the government, and the Spaniards wereexceedingly jealous of any pretensions to knowledge or culture onits part. The aristocracy which could survive such conditions hadto do so by indirectness and courtier-like flattery, by blandishmentand deceit. The aristocrats learned to despise the poor and the weak;for the more extravagant the alms-giving, the more arrogant the secretattitude of the giver. They trusted less to their own strength thanto others' weakness. They relied less on their own knowledge thanon others' ignorance. Whatever solidarity the aristocracy had andhas to-day is of a class nature rather than of a racial. In theinsurrection against Spain it allied itself with its lower-classbrethren simply because Spain forced it to do so. Had the friarsmade concessions to the aristocracy as a class, and permitted thema voice in Filipino affairs, there would have been no insurrectionagainst Spain, nor would the entrance of a Filipino governing classhave made large changes in the conditions of the great mass of theFilipino people. 

Under a democratic Government the present aristocracy cannot retainits present place and prestige, and a portion of its eagerness forindependence comes from a recognition of that fact. The AmericanGovernment has practically opened the way for the creation of a newaristocracy in establishing the public schools. In the provincesthe primary schools are patronized by rich and poor alike, though ithas required considerable effort to make the poor people understandthat their children have as much right to the enjoyment of schoolprivileges as have the children of the rich. The secondary schools ofthe provinces are patronized chiefly by the middle and upper classes, and in the city of Manila the children of the really wealthy hardlyever attend the public schools. The wealthy citizens of Manila preferto send their sons to the religious schools, and their daughters tothe _colegios_, or sisterhood schools, of which there are many. WhileEnglish is taught in all these schools, general instruction is inSpanish; the courses of study include the usual amount of catechism, expurgated history, and the question-and-answer method of "philosophy"of the old Spanish system. If the American Government remain here, a new aristocracy, the result of her public school system, isinevitable. If it should not remain here, the Spanish-reared productwill continue to hold its present place. 

CHAPTER XII

Progress in Politics and Improvement of the Currency

Our First Election of a Governor--More Feeling in OurNext Election--We Organize a Self-Governing Society in theSchool--Improvement in Parliamentary Procedure--The Boys Imitatethe Oratory of a Real Politician--A Much-mixed Currency inthe Philippines--Losses to the Teachers Through Fluctuations inExchange--The Conant System Brings Stability--The New Copper CoinsAstonish the Natives. 

We had been in Capiz but a short time when talk of the coming electionbegan to occupy both Americans and Filipinos. The Governor of theprovince at that time held his position by appointment from Mr. Taft, but provisions had been made by the Commission for an election at aspecified time, which was then at hand. In view of the fact that it wasthe first election ever held in the province, we Americans expected toencounter much rejoicing over the newly acquired right, and a generaloutbreak of gratification. It made a barely perceptible ripple. TheFilipinos had not gathered momentum enough under the new system toapproach an election by the well-recognized channels. There were nospeeches, no public gatherings, no processions, and, so far as themass of the population were concerned, no interest whatsoever. Thereis not universal suffrage in the Philippines. The electors for theoccasion were the _concejales_, or town councillors, of the towns inthe province. On a given day they would assemble to cast their votes. 

Our appointed Governor was a candidate to succeed himself, and theonly opponent of any importance was a local lawyer, named D----. D----was on very good terms with most of the Americans, who regarded himas something of an Americanista, but he was greatly hated by theprominent Filipino families in town, not only on the score of hissuspected pro-American sentiment, but on account of certain meddlingsof his in past time with _cacique_ power. 

A short time before the election the American community werethunderstruck on hearing that D---- had been arrested on a charge ofmurder. Our Supervisor--and, I believe, the Treasurer--offered to goon his bail. Then came a telegram from Judge Bates at Iloilo, denyingbail. For a day or two telegrams flew back and forth, the Americanstrying to secure the temporary release of the unfortunate lawyerbut accomplishing nothing. D---- was kept practically _incomunicado_in the local calabozo. He insisted that there was a plot on foot todestroy him, and either he was much distressed or he pretended to beso. Then came an order to take him out to a small town in the interiorwhence the charge came. D---- declared that he should be killed onthe way. The Americans finally prevailed upon an American inspectorof constabulary to accompany the prisoner's escort. The rainy seasonwas in full force, and prisoner and escort had a bad time gettingout to Maayon, the town aforementioned. Once there the charge brokedown at once. It was based upon a statement made by an old womanthat a spirit had appeared to her in a dream, and had accused D----of being the cause of its immaterial existence. The prisoner wasalmost immediately set at liberty. For reasons best known to himself, he found it inconvenient to return to Capiz and to renew his campaignfor the governorship. 

By the fortuitous circumstance of the charge against D----, ourGovernor, who professed a smiling ignorance of all the circumstancesof the case, had been relieved of his only formidable rival, and heprepared to do the honors of Capiz to the _concejales_. He lived inthe old palace of the Spanish governors, which had since come to serveas provincial capitol and gubernatorial residence. There was plenty ofroom in the fine old place, and the _concejales_ found everything totheir satisfaction. They had but to step out of their bedrooms to findthemselves at the polls. Our Governor was elected almost unanimously, to succeed himself for two years. 

That was doing pretty well for a set of tyros at politics; butby the time the next election swung round, political feeling hadawakened, there were wheels within wheels, and feeling was runningexplosively high. Political parties had crystallized into two bodies, known as _Progresistas_ and _Federalistas_. The Progresistas werethe anti-American party, pledged to every effort for immediateindependence. The Federalistas were those who stood by the Taftadministration, and talked of compromise in the present, and ofindependence at some distant day. Our Governor, who was againa candidate to succeed himself, was the Federalista head. TheFederalistas accused the Progresistas of being "Aglipianos"--that is, schismatics from the Roman Church--and they hinted that Aglipianoismwas more a political movement than it was a religious one. 

Each party professed itself sceptical of the good intentions of theother. Each was certain that the other would come to the polls withfirearms and bolos. I began to worry about my desks, having promisedto loan twenty-five nice new oak ones of the latest American patternfor the use of the _concejales_ in making out their votes. 

The officer commanding the constabulary at that time was a huge, black-browed, black-whiskered Irish-man, who, among the Americanmen, went by the name of "Paddy" L----. Both parties ran to CaptainL----, clamoring for a military guard at the election. Captain L----pooh-poohed the notion that any serious trouble could grow out of theelection, declined to consider a guard, except the two soldiers toguard the ballot box, who were more for function than for protection, and smilingly added that his trust in the Filipino sense of law andorder was so great that he intended to go to the election and see itall himself. 

By this time the Governor's family had removed from the governmentbuilding, and a suite of apartments at the rear which had servedfor kitchen, dining-room, store-rooms and servants' quarters, had been cleaned up, painted, and handed over to the ProvincialIntermediate School, of which I was principal. One of our school-roomswas connected by an uncurtained glass door with the great centralhall of the building, which was usually given over to the Court ofthe First Instance, but which was, that day, a sort of anteroom tothe voting precinct located in the former sala of the palace. Myschool-room would, therefore, command a full view of the polls. Forseveral days I lived in dread of hearing that election day would bedeclared a school holiday, but no order came to that effect, and onelection day I went to school with my mind bent on taking notes ofall that went on, also wondering a little if in case the non-expectedriot came off, I should not have to vacate a little hurriedly. 

By nine o'clock the court-room was packed with electors and lobbyists, or whatever the interested outsiders may be called. Through theglass doors we could see them in groups, some laughing and chattingin ordinary social converse, others dark and gloomy, others gatheredin whispering knots with fingers on lips, much mysterious noddingand shrugging of shoulders, and all the innocent evidences ofconspiracy. Beyond, through double doors, the voting precinct was infull view, my twenty-five desks occupied by meditative _concejales_, sucking the ends of their pencils. There were the judges and theballot boxes, symbols of progress and modernity, and there, too, as a concession to dignity which fills the Filipino with joy, weretwo dear little constabulary soldiers with guns about as long asthemselves. Their khaki suits were spick and span from the laundry, their red shoulder straps blazed, their gilt braid glittered, andtheir white gloves were as snowy as pipe clay could make them. Theirlittle brown faces were stolid enough to delight the most ambitiouscommander. The whole was a sight to cheer the heart of rampantdemocracy. 

In the midst of the throng in the court-room, jovial, lusty, brightof eye, loitered our easy-going chief of constabulary. His was nocommon girth at any time, but belted with a particularly large-sizedand vicious-looking revolver, he seemed to be at least sixty inchesaround the waist. There was something casual about that revolver, and at the same time something very significant. But nothing couldhave been more blandly unconscious than the Captain's manner. Hehad what is commonly described as "a kind word and a sweet smile foreverybody. " There were constabulary reserves a block away, but theCaptain's appearance was an assurance that there would be no need forthe reserves. He loafed about, chatting first with one group and thenwith another. The conspirator looks gave way to laughter and clappingson the back, but when he turned away, more than one eye followed thetime-worn holster and its bulky contents. 

That election went off as calmly as a county fair--much more calmly, indeed, though there was a _reclama_ afterwards, and a long struggleabout it which had to be decided by the Court of First Instance. Thequarrel over the election was not related, however, to the Captain'spresence there. 

Apparently the Church was interested in the election, for everyshovel-hatted _padre_ in the district seemed to have come in forit. They and the provincial dignitaries from towns which had not thenrisen to the dignity of an American public school, wandered into theschool in groups of three and sometimes of twenty. It was their firstcontact with coeducation, and they were highly amused at the sightof a class of boys and girls working together in the reduction ofcompound fractions. They were also delighted with the choral music, especially with "The Watch on the Rhine" which the pupils sang withgreat enthusiasm. 

Not very long after that election we began our first work withself-governing societies. The school had been long enough establishedto have an advanced class capable of speaking English, and our DivisionSuperintendent suggested that I give them a little practical experiencein the "machinery of politics. " I assented with outward respect, andthen retired to smile, for the "machinery of politics" is the lastthing in which the Filipino has need of instruction from us. He is aborn politician, and we compare to him in that respect as babes to aphilosopher. But I recognized that my pupils did need the experienceof a self-governing society, and practice in parliamentary usages, and so we organized our society from the three most advanced classesin the school. 

In the beginning I organized the society, acting as temporarychairman. I called for an election by informal ballot of short-termofficers to serve until a time of regular elections could be set. Ourfirst ballot polled seventy-three votes, although there wereonly fifty-five persons in the room. I threw that out and calledfor a roll call vote. In due time a regular election took place, and officers for three months were elected. As the vote was open, the aristocratic element came off best, as was to be expected. Thechildren of one prominent family, together with some of their friends, held every office. Practically the result was not bad. The officers, four out of five of whom were girls, represented considerableability. The girls were elected chiefly out of the _galanteria_ ofcertain of the boy aristocrats, who had very little conception ofwhat a self-governing society means, but who wished to pay their fairinnamoratas a compliment. 

Our society was a pronounced success. The pupils took to parliamentarypractice very much as they would to a new game. Visitors thronged ourFriday afternoon meetings. We teachers had to put in six or eight hoursevery week, drilling the pupils on duty, helping to get up music, and meeting with committees. A teacher was parliamentary "coach, "and sat at the side of Madame President, giving her directions in anundertone. All the teachers were elected honorary members, and onewas critic. Peace reigned and Joy flapped her wings. 

About this time, however, the gentlemen who were running that provinceengaged in the real game which we were imitating, and became involvedin a quarrel which threatened to strain the relations between Americansand Filipinos to the breaking point. Governor Taft came down inperson to look into the affair. There was a banquet and there werespeeches. The Filipino Governor prefaced his oratorical flight by thestatement that three times only in his life had he trembled. Time hasclouded my memory, but I think he said the first of these was when hetook his Bachelor's degree from the University of Spain; the second waswhen he led his fair partner to the matrimonial altar; and the thirdwas that present occasion when he stood up before that illustriousassembly, seeking words in which to welcome the distinguished guest. 

He did not look as if he were suffering from nervousness, andhis words flowed with sufficient ease to indicate that he was nothaving much trouble in the search. Sitting at the far end of thefestal board, contemplating my glass of _tinto_ (I am unable to saywhether I drank _tinto_ because the champagne ran short or because, being feminine and educational, I was deemed unworthy of the best), Ireflected somewhat cynically that if he was telling the strict truth, his childhood must have been singularly barren of the penalties whichfollow real childish joy, or else his was a remarkable personality. 

But that is neither here nor there. The utterance wafted me a gentleamusement at the time. But from that time on, the boys of my literarysociety began to tremble--always twice anteriorly, and for thethird time when they stood up before that intellectual and criticalassemblage. Every boy for weeks to come used that worn-out prefacefor his remarks. The pupils gave no signs either of amusement orscorn. Apparently they received it seriously as an eminently becomingpreface of oratory, just as they do the "Do-minus vobiscum" of themass. But one day I spoke of it in one of the classes--intentionallynot in the society. When they saw our viewpoint, they shrieked withdelight, and from that time on, the budding orators ceased to tremble. 

At last we arrived at the point of an open session, and the eventwas what is described in society papers as one of the social eventsof the season. We had really a good programme, we transacted quitea little business in accordance with parliamentary usage: we electedthe Governor, the Presidente, and several prominent citizens honorarymembers, and they acknowledged the compliment with appropriate remarks. 

About a week after our open session I was about to retireone night, when I heard the sound of music and saw lightsapproaching. Transparencies were waving about in the warm air. As therewas no cholera, and therefore no occasion for a San Roque procession, I hung out of the window, local fashion, to find out what it was allabout. It was a newly organized parliamentary society parading. In lessthan a month three new societies had blossomed among the youths and oldmen of the town. American teachers were engaged as parliamentarians, although the societies were conducted in Spanish, not English. Thesocieties all died a natural death in a little while; but of course, the school society being compulsory could not die, and so far as I knowis still going on. Every public school of the secondary class has itsschool societies, and they must form the ideals of the new generation. 

One of the most irritating features of life in those early days, and one which offered a problem rather difficult for the Governmentto solve, was the matter of currency. The money in use was silver, with a small paper circulation of Banco Espagnol-Filipino notes. Thenotes were printed on a kind of pink blotting paper which looked as ifit would be easy to counterfeit. The silver was what we called at first"Mex" and later "Dobie. " There were some pieces coined especially forthe Philippines, but in general "Mex" was made up of coins of Spain, Mexico, Islas Filipinas, Hong-Kong, Singapore, Canton, and Amoy--onlythe experts of the Government could tell where it all came from. Withthe public at large, any coin that looked as if it contained the fairaverage of silver was accepted. Every month the paymasters of theUnited States Army and Navy issued thousands of dollars in Americansilver and paper, but this disappeared in a twinkling, swallowed upby the local agents who were buying gold with which China paid herindemnity. Each incoming steamer brought loads of "Dobie" from theAsiatic coast, but our good dollars and quarters went out of sightlike falling stars. 

The silver coins consisted of pesos, medio-pesos, pesetas (twenty-centpieces), media-pesetas (ten-cent pieces), and it seems to me that Ihave a hazy recollection of a silver five-cent piece, though I cannotbe certain. The copper coins were as mongrel as the silver. 

There were English, Dutch, Spanish, and Chinese coins from theneighboring coasts, but the greater part of the copper coins consistedof roughly pounded discs with ragged edges, which were made, theysaid, by the Igorrotes. The coins had no inscriptions, but went withthe natives by the name of "dacolds"--the native word for "big, "The Americans renamed the dacolds "claquers, " and used either nameat pleasure. It required eighty dacolds to equal one peso, forty to ahalf-peso, sixteen to a peseta, eight to a media-peseta. Theoreticallya peso was a hundred cents, as a peseta was twenty cents, but therewas no cent with which to make change. You accepted the dacold atits value of eighty to a peso, or you transacted no business. TheFilipinos also had a way of figuring a medio-peso as _cuatro reales_, thus giving the _real_ a value of twelve and a half cents, thoughthere was no coin called a _real_. Nevertheless, the _real_ figuredin all business transactions. 

At the time we landed in Manila "Mex" stood with gold at an evenratio of two pesos "Mex" for one dollar gold. I innocently allowed abank to transfer a gold balance on a letter of credit to an accountin local currency at that ratio. A few weeks later, when I wanted tochange back and carry my account in gold, they wrote me courteouslybut firmly that I would have to buy back that account at the ratioof 2. 27, and by the time that the transfer was finally effected, gold had jumped to 2. 66. We had been told by a circular from the WarDepartment, at the time our appointments were made, that we should bepaid in gold. I drew just one cheque in U. S. Currency after reachingthe Islands. My second cheque was drawn in local currency at a ratioof 2. 27, but, by the time it had reached me at Capiz, gold had goneto 2. 46. We had to endure the evils of a fluctuating currency forover two years. On all money sent to the States we lost heavily. Sofar as our daily expenses were concerned we in the provinces had verylittle inconvenience to suffer on account of "Mex"; but in Manila allmerchants fixed their prices in gold and took occasion to put themup mercilessly. I remember trying to buy some Japanese matting whichcould have been bought for twenty-five cents a yard in the States, but which was priced at seventy-five cents in Manila. The merchantwanted me to pay him in "Mex" at a ratio of 2. 66, or at the rate oftwo pesos a yard for matting which he bought in Japan at probablyless than twenty sen a yard. 

There was a tremendous protest against the fluctuating currency andthe extortion which grew out of it, and we were all relieved when welearned that Congress had adopted the so-called "Conant" system ofcurrency for the Islands. Mr. Conant was the expert who investigatedconditions for the Government and devised the system. 

The Conant system followed the old Spanish values for coins, the newcoins being pesos, medio-pesos, pesetas, media-pesetas, nickels, and copper cents. There was also a copped half-cent, but neitherCongress nor Mr. Conant read the Filipino aright. In two years wehad taught him to sniff at any value less than a cent. The new systemis held at a ratio of two to one by the Government's redeeming it inthe Philippine treasury at a ratio of two pesos Conant to one dollarU. S. The importation of "Mex" is no longer permitted, and we rejoicein a stable currency once more. 

We provincials followed the newspaper talk about the new systemwith no small interest. When our treasurer informed us that he hadreceived a consignment of the new currency, and that our next salarycheques would be paid in "Conant, " we were delighted. My cheque, by some accident, got in ahead of those of the other employees, and was the first presented for payment. 

The beautifully made, bright new silver coins had an engagingappearance after the tarnished mongrel coins to which we wereaccustomed. When the Treasurer had counted out all my hard-earnedmoney except ten pesos, he produced two bags of pennies, and announcedthat I should have to take that sum in small coin in order to getthe pennies into circulation. They were of beautiful workmanship, yellow as gold and heavy as lead. I called in the aid of a small boyto help me lug home my three bags of coin. 

I had been at home only a few minutes when in came the regular venderof eggs and chickens, who called at my house three times a week. Hesquatted on the floor and I sat in front of him in a rocking-chair, watching my little maid drop the eggs into water to test theirfreshness. After we had chaffered the usual time and had come to anagreement, I went into my room and brought out the bags of new coin. Ihad bought about seventy-five cents worth from him, and I first gavehim three of the new silver pesetas, which he admired greatly. Therewere still fifteen cents due him; and when I reached my hand into thepenny bag and hauled out a handful of gleaming copper, the maid said, "Jesus!" under her breath, and the man, "Dios mio!" He received hisfifteen centavos with an attempt to conceal his satisfaction. The maidrequested permission to look inside the bag, and when she had doneso merely grinned up at me with a look that said, "My! You're rich, aren't you?"

It was Saturday morning, and I went on busying myself about things athome. Pretty soon there came a deprecatory cough from the stairway--thelocal method of announcing a visitor. Outside of Manila knocking orringing does not seem to appeal to the Filipinos. In the provincesthe educated classes come to the foot of the stairway and call"Permiso!" and the lower-class people come to the head of the stairwayand cough to attact attention. My chicken man had returned. Was itpossible that he had heard aright when he had understood the Señora tosay that twenty of the new gold pieces went to one peseta? The Señoraexplained that he had made no mistake. Then, said the old rascal, with bows and smirks, since the lady had so many of them--bags full ofthem--had he not seen with his own eyes?--would she have the kindnessto take back those gleaming new pesetas, which were indeed beautiful, and give him gold in their stead? The lady assured him that the newmoney was the same metal used in the old "dacold" and that in timeit would become as dark and ugly, but his Filipino habit of relyingon his own eyes was in full command of him. The man thought that Ihad got hold of gold without knowing it, and supposed that he wasgetting the best of me. I changed one peseta into coppers for him, and had difficulty in getting him to leave the house. Ten minutesafter he had left, a woman came in to sell me some more chickens. Itold her that I had just bought, but she put such a price on chickensas had never before come under my ken. Ten cents was acceptable for afull-grown laying hen, the ordinary value of which was forty or fiftycents. I suspected her of having had some information from the old man, and, in order to find out, I gave her the price of the five chickens, which I agreed to take, in the old "Mex" media-pesetas. Then therewas an explosion. She reached for her precious chickens and broke thatbargain then and there. Her chickens would sell for ten cents gold, butfor no media-peseta. I asked her how she knew I had gold, and she saidthat did not matter--I had some "diutang-a-dacolds" (little dacolds), and she was willing to sell hens for ten "diutang-a-dacolds" _gold_, but not for media-pesetas. So I counted her out fifty new coppersand we both rejoiced in our bargain. I told her that the media-pesetawas worth ten dacolds, but she wanted the bright new money. 

For the next two hours I was persecuted with truck-sellers. Ordinarilythe fishermen were unwilling to stop and sell in the streets or inprivate houses, preferring to do all their business in the market, but that morning, I could have had the pick of half the catch. Finallycame a woman who had had a straight tale from the first woman. Womannumber two had nothing to sell, but, after a minute, she pulled out ajagged old media-peseta and said that she had heard that I said that amedia-peseta was worth ten of the new gold pieces. If I was as good asmy word, why not change her media-peseta for gold? I said that I woulddo it if she would give me the new media-peseta, but that I could notdo it for the old. When she wanted to know where she could get a newmedia-peseta, and I told her the Treasurer would redeem old silver atthe government ratio, she went off to get a new media-peseta, but itwas plain that she distrusted me. The people flocked to my house allday trying to get me to buy something and to pay them in the new coins. 

It was remarkable how easily and quickly one circulating mediumdisappeared and another took its place. At first there was some troubleabout getting the poor people to recognize the copper on a basis of ahundred to a peso. They were willing enough to receive change on thatbasis, but, in giving it, tried to treat the new centavo as a dacold, eighty to the peso. I had to have one Chinese baker arrested forpersistently giving short change to my _muchacha_, and the Treasurerhad a long line of delinquents before him each morning admonishingthem that they could not play tricks with Uncle Sam's legal tender. Buton the whole the change went off quickly and without much friction. 

This morning I asked my maid, an elderly woman, if she remembered theold money we had four years ago. She struck her forehead with her hand, and thought a long time. Finally her face lit up. She remembered thoseIggorote dacolds and a silver five-cent piece--"muy, muy chiquitin"(very, very small). She said that the Tagalogs called the dacolds"Christinas" after the mother of the Queen-mother. But the differencebetween a stable and a fluctuating medium meant nothing to her, andprobably many of her countrymen have almost forgotten that there wasever any other than Conant in the land. 

CHAPTER XIII

Typhoons and Earthquakes

How Typhoons Assert Themselves--Our First Typhoon--Six Weeks' MailBrought by the _General Blanco_--Her Narrow Escape From Wreck:--AWeird Journey on a Still Smaller Steamer--Another Typhoon--Rescue ofCaptain B---- --Havoc Wrought by the Typhoon. 

In the month of November two more American women teachers arrived atCapiz, one of whom joined me, and our society was still more increasedby two army officers' wives, and the wives of the provincial Treasurerand the Supervisor. This made nine women in all, and we began to givedinners and card parties, and assume quite metropolitan airs. 

Miss C---- and I, from our central positions on the plaza, saw andheard most of what was going on, and we heartily concurred in thegossip of the day that there was always something doing in Capiz. Aboutthe middle of the month there was a lively earthquake that shook upour old house most viciously; and just before Thanksgiving we metour first typhoon. 

Typhoons have various ways of asserting themselves, but there is onepredominating form of which this particular typhoon happens to bean example. The beginning of all things is usually a casual remarkdropped by a caller that the first typhoon signal is up. Then theweather thickens, and a fine drizzling rain sets in. It stops by andby, and you have no sort of opinion of typhoons. Then the rain beginsagain with a steady downpour, which makes you wonder if there will beany left for next year. Again it stops, almost leads you to think itintends to clear. Then a little vagrant sigh of wind wafts back thedeluge. A few minutes later nature sighs again with more tears. Eachgust is stronger than the one before it, and at the end of eight orten hours the blasts are terrific, and the rain is driven like spikesbefore them. It may keep this up twelve hours or fifty-six. It mayincrease to an absolute hurricane, levelling all before it with greatloss of life, or it may content itself with an exhibition of what itcould do if it really desired. 

At the end of the first day of our typhoon I went to bed wonderinghow long the ant-eaten supports of our house could hold out againstthe violent wrenchings and shakings it was getting. I had poor rest, for the howling of the wind, the noise of boards torn loose, andthe clatter of wrenched galvanized iron roofing made sleep almostimpossible. When I went out into the kitchen next morning, myheart sank into my boots. The nipa roof had been torn away piece bypiece. The whole place was soaked, the stove was rusted, and rivuletswere running outside and inside of the pipe. Romoldo clucked his gleein this devastation, and opined that the outlook for breakfast waspoor. It was certainly no poorer than breakfast when it came. 

I dressed myself for the weather and went to school in a mackintoshand rubber boots. The costume seemed to afford no small excitement tothe Filipinos who beheld. They had hitherto considered mackintoshes andrubber boots as the exclusive property of men. Had I appeared in a pairof pantaloons, I should not have created more sensation. Nobody cameto school, of course, but I had to go through the form of reportingthere twice anyway. We lunched on gingersnaps and water, and had adinner composed chiefly of tinned things. 

After dinner, to our immense surprise, we had callers in spite of thestorm. Lieutenant and Mrs. C---- came over to ask us to Thanksgivingdinner, and a couple of men from the officers' mess dropped in. Oneof these, Captain R----, was in command of the launch kept at Capiz bythe military Government. She was about sixty feet long, and having beenbuilt at Shanghai, rejoiced in a Chinese name--the _Yuen Hung_. But assomething was the matter with her engines, which coughed and wheezedmost disgracefully, the flippant Americans had rechristened her the_One Lung_, much to the chagrin of her skipper. 

A barkentine, loaded with molave timber and carrying native passengers, had been driven ashore at the port that day, and the _One Lung_had gone to the rescue and taken off the passengers. Fortunately thelittle craft did not have to brave the full force of the sea, as thearms of the bay broke the fury. But even in the bay Captain R----said the waves were frightful, and he thanked his stars that theyhad gotten back alive. 

While we were still talking of the storm, there came a shout fromthe tribunal next door, and the noise and rattle of the four-horseescort wagon starting down to Libas. That could mean but onething--States mail, the which, as we had seen none of it for sixweeks, was particularly welcome. But we wondered what boat had comein in such a storm, and, the unexpected always happening, were notwholly unprepared to learn that that disreputable old tub the _GeneralBlanco_ had made harbor safe and sound. It took till nearly midnightto get the mail up and distributed, but we stayed up for it. Therewere actually eight sacks of mail for our little colony, and we wentover to the tribunal and watched the mail sacks opened, and seizedon our share with avidity, while we alternately blessed and despisedthe skipper of the _Blanco_ for getting caught out in the tempest. 

This was not the last feat the _Blanco_ was destined to achieve duringmy stay in Capiz. She had a habit of dropping into port in weather thatit seemed no boat could live in. Once she came in about two P. M. Ina tremendous sea, bringing a single American passenger--a girl oftwenty-one, a Baptist missionary. As the _Blanco_ had no cabins, thecaptain was forced to lock his native passengers in the engine room, where no doubt they contributed much to the enjoyment of the engineerand his aids. He had the deck chair of this girl carried up on hisbridge and lashed, and she was lashed to the chair. There they tworode out the storm. The captain said that from eleven o'clock tilltwo, when he made the shelter of Batan Bay, he expected his boat tobe swamped any instant, and he expressed his unqualified admirationfor the way in which this girl faced her possible doom. He concludedwith a favorite Filipino ejaculation, "Abao las Americanas, " which inthis case may be freely translated as "What women the Americans are!"

The _Blanco_ is still skipping defiantly over the high seas betweenIloilo and Capiz, though after all her hairbreadth escapes she camenear ending herself in a typical way. She started out one night fromCapiz for Iloilo, a heavenly calm night, bright moonlight, and a seasmooth as a floor. Two or three miles from the port, a large islandcalled Olatayan lies off the coast--a single mountain rising outof the sea. Everybody on the _Blanco_, including the watch and thesteersman, thought it a good night for sleep, and left the _General_to steer her own course. The _General_ made straight for Olatayan, and ran her nose up on the beach. She stayed there two weeks, and wasbeaten up by bad weather, and assistance had to be sent to get heroff. Then she had to be pretty well rebuilt, and repainted. At thetime of all these happenings I was in Iloilo, whither I had gone fortreatment of an abscess of the middle ear, and as I depended on the_Blanco_ for getting back, felt personally injured by her antics. Iwent several times to the office of her agents, one of the big Englishtrading firms, to inquire how the wreck was getting along, and whatthe prospect was for a return to Capiz before Christmas. The man atthe desk did not look characteristically English, and on my firstappearance I addressed him tentatively in Spanish. He answered in thatlanguage, and we continued to use it. On one of the later visits thisgentleman was not visible, but in his place a red-headed, freckledyouth, with the map of Scotland outlined on his rugged countenance, presided over the collection of inkstands and ledgers. Naturally, Iaccosted him in English, whereupon the shape of my former interlocutorrose up from behind a screen and remarked, "By Jove, I thought youwere Spanish, don't you know? and have been talking to you all thistime in Spanish. What a sell!"

Failing the _Blanco_, I took passage for Capiz on the _Fritz_, a craftone or two degrees smaller and rustier than the old _General_. Ofall the weird experiences I ever had, that twenty-four hours was theweirdest. They cleared out a sort of pantry or lazaretto just backof the deck engine-house for me to use as a stateroom, and I slept onthe pantry shelf. Some kind of steam pipes must have passed under it, for it grew so hot that several times I had to vacate and get down onthe floor. Then we met a little wind as we rounded the north coast, and I was sick. A family of Filipino aristocrats came on boardat Estancia, and the ladies elected to share my retreat. They hadseveral servants and one or two babies and other necessaries of life, and they left me only a corner of the pantry shelf, against which Ipropped my weary and seasick frame. We made Capiz just at dusk, andnever was a wanderer more eager to see home. There on the bank weretwo of my friends, who said they were invited out to dinner and wereto bring me if I arrived in time. So we went to that cheery Americanhome with its spotless linen, its silver and china. For six weeks Ihad been living on Spanish "chow, " and the contrast made me serenelyhappy. It was almost worth enduring--the six weeks of chow and the_Fritz_, I mean--to enjoy the change. 

But to return to typhoons. We had several more that year, and I beganto feel that typhoons were terribly exaggerated in books. But in 1903we had an object lesson that I do not care to repeat. We went throughall the usual preliminaries of typhoon signals, drizzle and gust. Itwas, I believe, the tenth of June. I stayed up late that night, working, and noticed that the gusts were increasing. Just at midnightI laid down my pen and started to go to bed, when there came a blastthat shook the house like an earthquake and made me decide to waita while. For the next three hours the storm raged in a very orgy ofgladness. It slapped over nipa shacks with a single roar. It rippedup iron roofing and sent it hurtling about the air. The nipa of myroof was torn off bit by bit, and the rain came in torrents. I usedmy mackintosh to cover up the books, and put a heavy woollen blanketover the piano. Then I held an umbrella over the lamp to keep the rainfrom breaking the chimney, and sat huddling my pet monkey, which wascrazed with fear. The houses on either side were taller than mine, and for this little hollow it seemed as if all the iron roofing ofthe town had steered a direct course. The pieces came down, borne bythe shrieking wind, and landed with rattle and bang. My house swayedat every gust. It seemed that the cross-beams in the roof moved atleast a foot each way. The little lanterns that burn in front ofthe houses were blown out by the wind, and when I peered out therewas nothing but the inky darkness, the howling of the wind, thethrashing of the cocoanut trees, and the thud of falling nuts. Frommy side window I could see the native family next door to me all ontheir knees in front of an image of the Virgin, and once, in a lull, caught the sound of their prayers. 

The storm reached its greatest violence by half past one and subsidedby about three, at which time I went to bed and slept till morning. Inspite of my fear I could not help laughing at my two Filipino girlservants. They slept undisturbed through the earlier gusts, butwhen the roof went and the water came in, they awoke--disgusted. Theoldest one said, "Mucho aguacero" (a heavy shower) and cast about fora dry spot. She didn't find any at first, but she finally concludedthat the corner where my bed stood was highest; lifting the valence, they disappeared. 

Next morning Capiz presented a pitiful sight. Many of the great almondtrees on the plaza were uprooted and the others dismembered. Thelittle nipa houses were flat on the ground or drunkenly sprawlingat every slant and angle. Even the best houses had suffered. Theconstabulary cuartel was absolutely wrecked. The Supervisor's kitchenwas gone, and his wife mourned for her dishes, which were scatteredup and down the length of the street. The home of the scout officerwas jruined. He and his wife had taken shelter under a stone wall, and been drenched for three or four hours. The young mangoes hadbeen strewn on the ground, and there was no hope of that crop. Manyof the cocoanut trees were broken off, and where this was not thecase, the nuts had been whipped off. The banana trees were entirelydestroyed. Altogether it was a sorry sight, and we all got out andwalked about and viewed the ruins, just as we do for a cyclone at home. 

The storm had an aftermath in the rescue of an Englishman, CaptainB----, a pearl fisher. He was anchored under the lee of a smallisland in the sea between Panay and Masbate. He was in a smalllorcha, or sailing vessel, with no barometer, his glass having beenleft on a lorcha of larger tonnage, which was at another point. Theheavy wind caught them without warning almost, and its impact soonpressed the lorcha over. Captain B---- found himself struggling inthe water--able to swim, but drowning, as he expressed it, with thespindrift which was hurtling into his face. He kept one arm going, and partially protected his face with the other. Then in the inky darkhe touched a human body. It was the leg of one of his crew, four ofwhom were clinging to one of the lorcha's boats. It kept turning overand over, and they had to go with it each time. Captain B---- hungto the prow, so his circuit was not so wide as that of the others, but his body--arms, legs, and chest--was literally ploughed by therough usage. Once he let go and lost the prow as it came up, and thefright of this was enough to strengthen his hold. They were in thewater clinging to this all the rest of the night, the next day, andthe next night. One man died of exhaustion, and one went mad and letgo. On the second morning they succeeded in bailing it out by meansof an undershirt, which Captain B---- had been wearing, and which, though torn to ribbons across the front, was whole in the back. Theyremained in the boat all day, beaten on by the tropical sun, havingbeen thirty hours in the water without food or drink. 

Captain B---- said they were all a little mad. They saw the _SamShui_--the boat of the commanding officer of the Visayas--in thedistance, but were too low to be sighted by her. They wore their fingerends down, tearing a plank off the side to use for an oar. Meanwhilethe current carried them down closer to the Panay coast, and on thethird day they were close enough to fall in with one of the big fishing_paraos. _ This carried them into Panay, a town five or six miles eastof Capiz. Captain B---- had just strength to write a line or two andsign his name. This was brought down to Capiz, and the constabularyofficer on duty there went out immediately with a launch and broughthim in. He was in the military hospital a long time. His attendingphysician said that between salt water and sun he had been literallyflayed, and the flesh torn into ribbons and gouged by the impact ofthe boat. 

The storm did frightful havoc all through the Visayas, and many liveswere lost and vessels wrecked. The _Blanco_ as usual made harbor allright, but another little Capiz boat, the _Josefina_, went ashore, andher captain and several others were lost. The adventurous _One Lung_was at Iloilo, and it was reported that she started out of the riverwithout consulting her pilot, creating thereby general consternationamong her sister craft. 

We accustomed ourselves at last to typhoons and earthquakes, and, on the whole, decided that they were less fearful than tornadoes athome. Meanwhile we rather luxuriated in the sensations of romanceinspired by living in a town surrounded by a hostile population andprotected by soldiery. It was very, very new, and we made the bestof it. 

CHAPTER XIV

War Alarms and the Suffering Poor

A Surprise Party of Bolo-Men--Forty_ _Insurrectos_ _Arrive in OurNeighborhood--Anecdotes of Encounters with Insurgents--Anxiety Becauseof Treachery of the Natives--A False Alarm--Five Hundred StarvingPersons--Great Lack of Institutions for the Poor--Smallpox Patientin the School Building--The Newspaper a Creator of Hysteria. 

As I said before, Capiz had never been a warlike province, andthere had been comparatively little resistance to the Americanoccupation. Antique province to the west of us had fought stubbornlyand was still infested by _ladrones_, or guerilla troops. Oneengagement took place at Ibajay, a town on the north coast close tothe western border of Capiz, quite worthy of description. 

There was a small American garrison at Ibajay--about seventy-five ora hundred--and the Filipinos planned to surprise and massacre themjust at day-break when the reveille was sounded. But the bugler wasan astute youth, with an observing mind, and as he made his morningpromenade, it seemed to him that there were far too many ladiessquatting about on the plaza. So he got as close to quarters as hecould, and instead of blowing reveille, blew the call to arms withall his soul, and then ran for his life. The American troops swarmedout in their underdrawers and cartridge belts, and that surpriseparty turned right about face. The squatting women on the plaza, who were bolo-men in disguise, left for the hills with the yellingundergarmented in pursuit. A Filipino girl who saw it all describedthe affair to me, and said, "Abao, " as she recalled the shouts ofenjoyment with which the Americans returned after the fray. Theyseemed to regard the episode as planned to relieve the monotony oflife in quarters and to give them a hearty breakfast appetite. 

I had been little more than a month in Capiz when the rumor wentabroad that a parao with forty insurrectos from Samar had landed atPanay, just east of us, and the occupants had scattered themselvesout between Panay and Pontevedra. Pontevedra was supposed to be aninsurrecto town, thirsting for American gore. 

As we at Capiz were protected by a company of the Sixth Infantry andone of the Tenth Cavalry, and the Islands were theoretically at peace, we were not very much alarmed by this. But it gave us something totalk about, and we enjoyed it just as we do telling ghost stories onwinter nights, when the fire is low, and there is plenty of companyin case the ghosts materialize. Shortly after, however, came theshocking details of the affair at Balangiga, and we--I speak ofthe feminine portion of our colony--did not feel so secure by anymeans. The Supervisor's wife insisted upon having a guard at her house, and when any two American women got together they discussed what theywould do in case of a sudden alarm. 

I am certain that there is no braver soldiery in all the world thanours. But I am equally certain that when war is a man's profession, on which all his chances of honor, pay, and promotion hinge directlyor indirectly, the wish in his mind is father to the thought, andunconsciously he scents danger because he wants danger. Of an officerit may be said, as of Thisbe's lion, that his trade is blood, and"a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing, " But nothing pleasedme more than to hear the officers tell tales of the old campaign andspeculate on the possibilities of a new one. 

Our Supervisor had been a captain of volunteers in a Minnesotaregiment. He was a thoroughly interesting talker, and an inimitablestory-teller, a man who did not lose his sense of humor when thejoke turned on himself. I heard him tell one or two stories wellworth repeating. 

Our valorous Supervisor was stationed in Antique province, whilein Capiz was a detachment of the regular army. And in full sightof both on the top of a precipice, an insurrecto flag flaunted itsimpertinent message. 

The Supervisor said he waited a decent length of time to give theregulars a chance to pull down the flag, as it lay in their province, but when they failed to act, he went out, full of hope and good UnitedStates commissary valor, to destroy the insurrecto stronghold andto give an object lesson in guerilla warfare to the regulars. Hismen hacked and hewed their way through the jungle and cogon grass, with never a shot from the insurrectos. Then at the last theycame to a clear slope, and when they were about half-way up this, the insurrectos opened fire, not only with rifles but with greatboulders. The Supervisor said it took them over two hours to getup, and they went down in less than twenty minutes. One little Dutchprivate was in so much of a hurry that he punched him (the officer) inthe back with a gun butt and said, "Hurry up! get out of the way. " Mostof the shots flew high, however. The flag came down later, but itrequired four hundred men and a battery of artillery to bring it down. 

On another occasion the Supervisor, his wife, a constabularylieutenant, and I were out on the _playa_ (beach) when we came to alittle hollow almost hidden by grass, so that I stumbled in crossingit. This started the two men into retrospect of a day's fight over onthe beach of the west coast. The insurrectos at last took to flight, and the Supervisor started after one whom he had noticed, on accountof the beautiful kris, or fluted bolo, which he carried. As they ran, the Supervisor stumbled over such a grass-hidden hollow, and withouthis perceiving it, his revolver flew out of its holster. He kept ongaining slightly on his quarry, who glanced apprehensively over hisshoulder now and then, expecting to see the big Colt come out. Atlast, when he thought the range was good, the officer reached forhis revolver. He described the sort of desperate grin with whichthe Filipino glanced back expecting the end, and the rapid change tosatisfaction and triumphant ferocity as pursuer and pursued realizedwhat had happened. Then the race changed. It was the Supervisorwho panted wearily back toward his scattered fellows, and it wasthe Filipino with a kris to whose muscles hope of victory lent freshenergy. Fortunately, this young constabulary lieutenant, who had beena non-commissioned officer of volunteers, saw what was going on, andpicked off the Filipino with a long range shot from his rifle. Thekris was secured, and its beautiful blade and tortoise-shell scabbard, inlaid with silver, went as a present to Mrs. Wright when she visitedthe province. 

Somewhere in his "Rulers of the South" Marion Crawford speaks of thewonderful rapidity with which news flies among the native population inwarfare, and he cites as an illustration that "when Sir Louis Cavagnariwas murdered in Cabul, in 1879, the news was told in the bazaar atAllahabad before the English authorities received it by telegraph, which then covered more than half the whole distance between thetwo places. " This same condition beset the American officers inthe Philippines. Secretly as they might act, they found the news oftheir movements always in advance of them, and the crafty native hardto surprise. 

Among the leaders in Panay a certain Quentin Salas who operatedboth in Antique and Iloilo provinces was noted for his daring andcruelty. The American troops spent much time in pursuit of him, and among others the doughty Captain of volunteers. The Captain saidthat Salas made his headquarters in a certain pueblo, and often wordwas brought that the insurrecto would be found there on a certainday. The Captain tried all devices, forced marches, and feints onother pueblos, but to no purpose. He always arrived to find his quarrygone, but breakfast waiting for him (the American) at the _convento_, or priest's house. The table was laid for just the right number ofpersons, and the priest was always affable and amused. The Captaingrew desperate. He gave out false marching orders, and tried all thetricks he knew of. Finally, he let it be known that he intended tomarch on Salas's pueblo the next morning, and he did so, and actuallyarrived unexpectedly, or at least so nearly so that breakfast wasnot ready. The Filipinos had assumed that his announcement cloakedsome other invention, and had expected him to branch off at theeleventh hour. 

The Captain searched the town from garret to cellar, but no QuentinSalas. He unearthed, however, the usual score of paupers andinvalids. One of these was a man humped up with rheumatism, as onlya Filipino decrepit can be. The Americans finally departed, leavingthis ruin staring after them from the window of a nipa shack. Monthsafterward, when peace had been declared, the officer heard his namecalled in the government building at Iloilo, and saw a keen-eyedFilipino holding out his hand. The Filipino introduced himself asQuentin Salas, and owned that he possessed a slight advantage inhaving viewed the officer _in propria persona_, while he, Salas, wasin disguise. He confessed that the American had caught him napping onthat day, and that he had been forced to assume hurriedly the garband mien of an aged pauper. The American owned himself outwitted, and shakes his head to this day to think how near he came to victory. 

We lived in a maze of war talk all that autumn. I doubt not that, to the officer commanding, much that was mere excitement to uswas deadly reality and anxiety, for although peace was declared, the treachery of the natives had been demonstrated at Balangiga, and there was no certainty that the affair would not be repeatedelsewhere. The American people have little conception of the burdenslaid upon the army. These were to hold a people in subjection whiledenying that they were in subjection; to assume the belief of peaceand yet momentarily to expect war; to rule without the semblance ofrule; to accomplish when all the recognized tools of accomplishmentwere removed; to be feared and yet to be ready to bear cheerfully allblame if that fear expressed itself in complaint. I cannot but feelthat the army had much to bear in those early days, and bore it well. 

One little incident will serve to illustrate how lightly and yet howseriously the circumstances of life were viewed at that time. Theopen sea beach, or playa, two miles north of the town, was thefavorite afternoon drive, and one day Miss C----, who lived with me, was invited by the wife of Dr. D---- to share her victoria. They leftfor the playa about half-past four, the Doctor accompanying them onhis bicycle. He never permitted his wife to leave the borders of thetown unaccompanied. 

Mrs. D---- was in poor health and found long drives unendurable, sowhen seven o'clock came and Miss C---- had not returned, I concludedthat she was going to dine at Dr. D----'s. However, before sitting downwithout her, I sent Romoldo up to the Doctor's to inquire if she wasthere. He came back saying that the D----s had not returned, and thattheir servants were quite upset, as such a thing had never happenedbefore. I waited till eight and sent Romoldo again for news. Again hebrought back word that the D----s had not appeared. I thereupon wentover to Lieutenant C----'s house, who instantly picked up his hat andleft to talk the matter over with the officer of the day. Thence itwas reported to Captain M----, who ordered out searching parties foreach of the three main roads leading out of Capiz. Just as the menwere ready to start, the victoria and bicycle appeared. Our friendshad stopped at a Filipino house where a saint's day celebration wasin full swing, and had found it impossible to leave. The Filipinohosts had brought up ice all the way from Iloilo to make ice-cream, but as they were not adepts, it didn't freeze properly, and they wouldhear of no guest leaving until the ice-cream had been served. MissC---- said they were worried and tried to get away, but I declined tobelieve her. Ice-cream, I insisted, might excuse four times the delay, and I flatly refused to be convinced that they had intended to turntheir backs on it after a compulsory fast of seven months. 

The troops bundled themselves back to quarters, and it all endedin a laugh. Only the commanding officer leaned out of his window tochuckle at me. 

"Well, did you get your chicken?" and I went home and vowed thatMiss C---- should perish four times over before I would stir up anexcitement about her again. 

If we lived in a slightly hysterical state as concerns thepossibilities of war and bloodshed, we soon learned to be phlegmaticenough about disease and pestilence. Nearly five hundred starvingpeople had gathered in Capiz, and their emaciated bodies and cavernouseyes mocked all talk of the brotherhood of man. This condition didnot represent the normal one of the whole province, --but rather thesepeople represented the aggregate of starvation. Of course, followingthe war, there was a short crop and no little distress. But a certainCapiz politician with his eyes on the future caused word to be sentout through the province that if the needy would come into Capiz hewould see that they were fed. Of course he did no such thing. Theycame and starved to death; but meanwhile the report of his generositywas spread abroad, and nobody took any pains to tell the story of howthe miserable wretches had been cheated. So the politician profitedand the poor died. 

No one whose life has been passed in American rural prosperitycan wholly realize one's helplessness in the face of theseconditions. Capiz was a town of twenty-five thousand people rejoicingin many commodious and luxurious homes and a fine old church. Itwould seem a small affair to tide over the distress of so small anumber as five hundred starving. But the greatest obstacle was thefact that they were not temporarily starving. They represented aportion of the inhabitants who either from voluntary or involuntaryhelplessness would always need assistance, and the people of the towndid not see a clear way of assuming the burden. 

I confess in my unsophistication I went out among them consuming withfine altruistic zeal. A woman with a starving child in her arms beggedof me in the plaza. Instantly my purse was out, and instantly I wasmobbed by the howling, filthy crowd. My purse was almost torn out ofmy hand, my hat was knocked over my eyes, and a hundred eager clawstugged and pulled at my garments. I had fairly to fight my way out ofthe mob, and learned to bestow no more alms in public. Then I took tothrowing pennies out of the window, and found as a consequence thatthere was no rest day or night from the wailing and howling in thestreet. Little by little the fountain of my philanthropy dried up, and I contented myself with giving what I could to the Church to bebestowed in regular channels. 

At that time there was not a single hospital (American militaryhospital excepted) in the Philippine Islands outside of the city ofManila, and with the exception of one or two missionary establishments, no poorhouses, no orphan asylums, --in short, no properly organizedeleemosynary institutions conducted by the State. The result wasone at which we Americans were first appalled, then indignant, then, through sheer helplessness, indifferent. We simply became hardenedto sights and sounds which in our own land would stir up a blaze ofexcitement and bring forth wagon-loads of provisions. 

Between the two stone schoolhouses at Capiz was a connecting houseof nipa where in ante-insurrection days the native teachers hadtheir quarters. At first the horde of beggars were allowed to maketheir headquarters in this; but on the arrival of the DivisionSuperintendent, he protested against sowing the seeds of diseaseamong school children in that way. So the paupers were driven forthand found shelter wherever they could, in barns and unused houses. 

In the following June a part of the older pupils were separated fromthe others and placed in a room in the tribunal, as the nucleus of anintermediate school. I was in charge of them, and noticed one day aheap of rags lying on a pile of boards underneath the opposite wingof the building. Presently the rag heap began to twist and turn andthrow arms about and then to scream. I went over to investigate, andfound a girl of fourteen or fifteen nearly dead. Her skeleton bodywas covered with sores, her eyes seemed sightless, and the flies hadsettled in clouds around them and her nostrils. She would lie on thehard boards a few minutes until the torment grew unendurable, and thenbreak into screams and lamentations. The rooms of all the municipalofficers were about her, she was in full sight of the police, and yetthere she lay and suffered with no human being to help her. NaturallyI went to the Mayor, or Presidente. He wanted to know, with someirritation, what was to be expected when the School Superintendentrefused to let the school building be used by the poor. After sometalk the girl was removed to a house and assistance given her. Shewas past the need of food, and died in less than twenty-four hours. 

The aforementioned nipa house between the two schoolhouses wasutilized for janitors' quarters, and the arrangement was such thatpupils leaving the room temporarily passed through it. One day oneof the children casually remarked that some one was sick in therewith _viruela_ (smallpox). I went in and found a child apparently inthe worst stages of confluent smallpox. Now in our own dear Americathis would have meant almost hysteria. There would have been headlines an inch deep in the local papers, the school would have beenclosed for two weeks, a general vaccination furor would have set in, and many mammas and little children would have dreamed of confluentsmallpox for weeks to come. But we did none of these things inthe Philippines. We merely requested the authorities to remove thesmallpox patient, and ordered the janitor to scrub the room withsoap and water. Nobody quitted school; nobody got the smallpox;and the whole thing was only an incident. 

Later I was destined to pass through the cholera epidemic of 1902-03, and I realized how great a factor a daily paper is in creating publichysteria. Part of the time I was in Manila, where the disease was undermuch better control than it ever was in the provinces (where it wasnot under control at all), and there was about five or six times asmuch worry, talk, and excitement in Manila as ever prevailed outside, I have lived in towns with newspapers and in towns without them, and have come to believe with Gilbert Chesterton that the newspaperis used chiefly for the suppression of truth, and am inclined to add, on my own account, the propagation of hysteria. 

CHAPTER XV

The Filipino's Christmas Festivities and His Religion

Autumn Weather--Winter Weather--A Christmas Tree forFilipino Children--A Christmas Eve Ball--Early Mass onChristmas--Visitors--Attitude of the Filipino to Religion--His Ideasof the Fine Arts Formed by the Church--Joys and Sorrows Carried toChurch--Religion Not a Source of Party Animosity--Filipinos MoreLikely to Become Rationalists than Protestants. 

What with typhoons, earthquakes, talk of insurrection, the noveltyof military life about us, and the effort to comprehend the native, the days sped quickly by at Capiz. October and November came and wentin alternate stages of storm and sunshine. For days at a time thefine rain drove like a snow storm before a northeast wind, and itwas difficult to realize that the deluge was the remnant of a greatblizzard which, starting on the vast frozen plains of Siberia, hadswept southward, till crossing the China Sea it gathered up a warmflood and inundated us with it. We spoke of its being autumn at home, but we could not realize the fact. When clear days came, they were sowarm, so glinting with sunlight, that it seemed all the world mustbe bathed in glory. It would rain steadily for a week or ten days, and then there would come one of those clear days when every breath ofvapor was blown out of the sky, the heavens were a field of turquoise, and the mountain chains were printed against them in softest purple. 

With the month of December the weather changed, the rain ceased, andthe dry chill winter of the tropics set in. The nights were so coldthat one was glad to nestle into bed under a blanket. The northeastwind still blew, but fresh and cool from the sea, and hardly a cloudfloated in the sky. We drove often out to the open beach where thesurf came in gloriously, and the great mountain island of Sibullian, away to the north, hung half cloud, half land in the sky. 

Christmas was near at hand, and we began to think of turkey andother essentials. Presents to home folk had to be mailed early inNovember, and after that an apathy came on us. Thanks to Mrs. C----, the energetic wife of a military man of private fortune, Christmaswas destined to wear, after all, an Anglo-Saxon hue. 

The Filipinos do not understand Santa Claus or the Christmas Tree. Thegiving of presents is by no means a universal custom of theirs, and such as are given are given on the festival of _Tres Reyes_, orThe Three Kings, some six or eight days after Christmas. Mrs. C----decided to give a Christmas festival to certain Filipino children, and she actually managed to disinter, from the Chinese shops, a boxof tiny candles, and the little devices for fastening them to thetree. No Christmas pine could be found, but she got a lemon tree, glossy of foliage. With the candles and strings of popcorn and coloredpaper flowers, this was converted into quite the natural article. Sheinvited several of us to dinner on Christmas Eve, and we went earlyto see the celebration. 

By half-past six o'clock, when the tropical dusk had closed down, thelittle guests began to arrive, each in charge of a servant. There weretwenty-five twinkling, berry-eyed babelets with their satiny black downhanging like bangs over their eyes, and their tubby little stomachscovered with fine garments and bound about with gorgeous sashes. Theysquatted on their little heels and sucked their little thumbs, andwaited in wondering patience for this strange mystery to occur. As manyAmerican children would have made the air noisy for a block around. 

The windows of the house were thrown wide open, and the sliding doorswhich pull back all around the base boards were open too, so thatthe whole interior was visible from the street below. There a greatcrowd had gathered, men, women, and children, beggars, and many ofthe elder brothers and sisters of the favored guests within. Nearlyevery child was displaying a toy that seems to be the special evidenceof Christmas in the Philippines--some sort of animal made of tissuepaper and mounted on wheels. It is lighted within like a paper lantern, and can be dragged about. Great is the pride in these transparencies, and great the ambition displayed in the construction. Pigs, dogs, cats, birds, elephants, and tigers, of most weird and imposing proportionsthey are, and no few feuds and jealousies grew out of their possession. 

When the coverings were drawn off the tree, and the candles werelighted, the crowd in the street waxed quite vociferous, butthe babies merely uttered little ecstatic sighs. They took theirpresents and turned the toys over gravely, and sucked gingerly at thesweets. Then one by one they marched out to join their relatives andthe transparencies. 

We had a good dinner and drank to the homeland and a merryChristmas. Afterwards Captain C---- leaned out of the window and criedto us to look at the snow. The moon was just overhead, ringed roundwith a field of cirrus clouds. They were piled one on top of another, glistening and cool, with the sheen of real snow by moonlight. I havenever seen such an effect in our own land, and only once subsequentlyhere. 

There was a ball that night, and we were all going. While we were atdinner, the waits came in and sang in the hallway just as in merryEngland they sing under the window. But if the English waits singas badly as the Filipino ones, then the poetry of the wait songs isgone from me forever. These of ours were provided with tambourines, and they sang an old Latin chant with such throaty voices that itsounded as if the tones were being dragged out by the roots. 

By half-past nine the local band, or one of them--for most Filipinotowns rejoice in half a dozen--came round to escort us to thehall. This attention was, as President Harper always declared of themany donations to the University of Chicago, "utterly unsolicited onour part, " and was the result of a hope of largesse, and of a highFilipino conception of doing honor to the stranger. Preceded by theband and surrounded by a motley assembly of several hundred people, the children dragging their transparencies with them, we strolled upthe quarter of a mile of street intervening between the Lieutenantand Mrs. C----'s house and the Filipino mansion where the ball washeld. When we entered, the guests all rose to do us honor, and shortlythereafter the rigadon was called. 

The ball differed little in its essential features from other balls, save that, owing to its being Christmas Eve, the Filipino men, in accordance with some local tradition, discarded the usual blackevening dress, and wore white trousers, high-colored undershirts, andcamisas, or outside Chino shirts, of gauzy piña or _sinamay_. This isthe ordinary garb of a workingman, and corresponds to the nationalor peasant costume of European countries; and its use signifies atribute to nationality. 

At midnight the church bells began to toll, and the three or fourhundred ball guests adjourned _en masse_ to the church. This buildingis larger than any I can remember in America, except the churchesof Chicago and New York, and was packed with a dense throng. It waslighted with perhaps two thousand candles, and was decked from lanternto chapel with newly made paper flowers. The high altar had a frontof solid silver, and the great silver candlesticks were glisteningin the light. 

The usual choir of men had given place to the waits with theirtambourines, though the pipe organ was occasionally used. The masswas long and tedious, and I was chiefly interested in what I thinkwas intended to represent the Star of Bethlehem. This was a greatfive-pointed star of red and yellow tissue paper, with a tail like acomet. It was ingeniously fastened to a pulley on a wire which extendedfrom a niche directly behind the high altar to the organ loft at therear of the church. The star made schedule trips between the altarand the loft, running over our heads with a dolorous rattle. Thegentleman who moved the mechanism was a sacristan in red cottondrawers and a lace cassock, who sat in full view in the niche behindthe high altar. There seemed to be a spirited rivalry between him andthe tambourine artists as to which could contribute the most noise, and I think a fair judge would have granted it a drawn battle. 

Mass was over at one, and we went back to our ball, and the supperwhich was awaiting us. I shall speak hereafter of feasts, so will giveno time to this particular one. Dancing was resumed by half-past two, and shortly afterwards I gave up and went home. Sleep was about tovisit my weary eyelids when that outrageous band swept by, welcomingthe dawn by what it fancied was patriotic music--"There'll be a HotTime, " "Just One Girl, " "After the Ball, " etc. It passed, and I wasonce more yielding to slumber, when the church bells began, and someenterprising Chinese let off fire crackers. I gave up the attemptto rest, and rose and dressed. Then the sacristan from the churchappeared in his scarlet trousers and cassock. He carried a silverdish, which looked like a card receiver surmounted by a Maltese crossand a bell. The sacristan rang this bell, which was most melodious, went down on one knee, and I deposited a peso in the dish. He uttereda benediction and disappeared. After him came the procession of commonpeople, adults and children, shyly uttering their _Buenas Pascuas_. Wehad, forewarned by the sagacious Romoldo, laid in a store of candy, cigarettes, cakes, and wine. So to the children a sweet, and to theparents a cigarette and a drink of wine, --thus was our Christmas cheerdispensed. Later we ate our Christmas dinner with chicken in lieu ofturkey, and cranberry sauce and plum pudding from the commissary. TheFilipinos honored the day by decorating their house-fronts with flagsand bunting, and at night by illuminating them with candles in glassshades stuck along the window sills. 

The church in the provinces is at once the place of worship, thetheatre, the dispenser of music and art, the place where rich andpoor meet, if not on the plane of equality, in relations that bridgethe gulf of material prosperity with the dignity of their common faith. 

So far as the provincial Filipino conceives of palaces andarchitectural triumphs, the conception takes the form of achurch. There are no art galleries, no palaces, no magnificent publicbuildings in the Philippines, but there are hundreds of beautifulchurches, of Byzantine and Early Renaissance architecture. You mayfind them in the coast towns and sometimes even in the mountainousinterior, their simple and beautiful lines facing the plaza, theirinteriors rich with black and white tiling and with colored glass. Thesilver facings of the altars and their melodious bell chimes are themost patent links which bind the Philippines to an older civilization. 

As far as he has ever come in contact with beautiful music, theprovincial Filipino has met it in the church. Nearly every one boastsits pipe organ imported from Europe, and in the choir lofts you mayfind the great vellum-leaved folios of manuscript music, with theirthree-cornered, square, and diamond-shaped notes. They know littleof the masses of Mozart, Gounod, or more modern composers, but theyknow the Gregorian chants, and the later compositions of the MiddleAges. Often badly rendered--for nowhere are voices more misused thanin the Philippines, --their music is nevertheless grand and inspiring. 

On the walls of churches and conventos too are found pictures inoil, often gloomy, full of tortures and death, as Spanish paintingsincline to be, yet essentially true art--pictures which it is to behoped will survive the inundation of American commercial energy. Theextract-of-beef advertisements and the varied "girls" of all pursuitshave found their way into the Philippines; and the Filipino, to oursorrow be it said, takes kindly to them. 

So far as the Filipino knows pageantry, it is the pageantry of theChurch. He knows no civic processions, no industrial pomp, such asexploits itself in the Mardi Gras at New Orleans, or the Veiled Prophetof St. Louis. He is even a stranger to the torchlight procession ofpolitics, and the military displays of our civil holidays. Neitherthe Masons, nor the Knights Templars, nor the Knights of Pythias, nor the Ancient Order of Hibernians, with their plumes and banners, have any perceptible foothold in the Philippines. But in Holy Week andcertain other great festival or penitential seasons of the Church, thegreat religious processions take place--floats sheathed in buntingand decked with innumerable candles in crystal shades, carryingeither the altar of the Virgin or some of the many groups of figurespicturing events in the life and passion of the Saviour. Almost everyprovincial family of wealth owns one of these cars, and the woodenfigures surmounted by wax heads, which constitute the group. At theproper seasons the figures are clothed in gorgeous raiment deckedwith jewels, and the car is put at the service of the Church for usein the procession. The floats are placed about a hundred yards apart, and between them the people form in two parallel lines, one on eachside of the street, every person carrying a lighted candle. When thereare twenty or thirty floats, and half as many bands, the glitter andbrilliancy of it all strikes even our satiated minds. What must itbe to the untravelled child of the soil?

When the Filipinos win a fight or an election, or fall heirs toany particular luck, they do not express their enthusiasm as we doin fire crackers, noise, and trades processions. They go sedatelyto church and sing the Te Deum. And as we enjoy the theatre, notmerely for the play, but for the audience and its suggestions of apeople who have put care behind them and have met to exhibit theirmaterial prosperity in silks and jewels, so do the Filipinos enjoythe splendor of the congregation on feast days. The women are robedas for balls in silken skirts of every hue--azure, rose, apple-green, violet, and orange. Their filmy camisas and pañuelos are painted insprays of blossoms or embroidered in silks and seed pearls. On theirgold-columned necks are diamond necklaces, and ropes of pearls halfas big as bird's eggs; while the black lace mantillas are fastenedto their dusky heads by jewelled birds, and butterflies of emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds. 

The first time I went to church in Capiz and looked down from the choirloft on the congregation, I could think of nothing but a kaleidoscope, and the colored motes that fall continually into new forms andshapes. When the results of the war had made themselves felt, andthe cholera had ravaged the province, this variety of color was lost, and the congregation appeared a veritable house of mourning. This wasnot, however, due to the appalling mortality, but to the Filipinos'punctilious habit of putting on mourning. When death visits a family, rich or poor, even the most distant relatives go into mourning, and they cling to it for the required time. 

If the reader will take into consideration all that I have said aboutthe part played by the Church in Filipino life, and at the sametime consider their insular isolation, their lack of familiarityeither through literature or travel with other civilizations, he will readily perceive that religion means a totally differentthing in the Philippines from what it does in America, even in RomanCatholic America. 

To the complacent Protestant evangelist who smacks his lips inanticipation of the future conquest of these Islands, I wouldsay frankly that there is no room for Protestantism in thePhilippines. The introspective quality which is inherent in trueProtestantism is not in the Filipino temperament. Neither are the veinof simplicity and the dogmatic spirit which made the strength of theReformation. Protestantism will, of course, make some progress so longas the fire is artificially fanned. There will always be found a fewwho cling ardently to it. But most Americans with whom I have talked(and their name is legion) have agreed with me in thinking that itwill never be strong here. 

The attitude of the Filipino Catholic is at once tolerantand positive. It is positive because without any research intotheological disputes the ordinary Filipino is emotionally loyal tohis Church and satisfied with the very positive promises which thatChurch gives him. It ministers not only to his spiritual but to hismaterial needs on earth, and it promises him in no circumlocutoryterms salvation or damnation. It either gives him or denies himabsolution. He believes in it with the implicit faith of one whohas never investigated. On the other hand, he is tolerant with thetolerance of one who has in his blood none of the acrimony begottenby an ancestry alternately conquerors and victims through theirfaith. The Filipino Catholic is far more tolerant than the Irish orGerman Catholic. But the Philippines have known no battle of the Boyne, no Thirty Years' War. When the abuses of the friars here led to revoltand insurrection, the ultimate outcome of the struggle would havebeen probably a religious secession from Rome, as well as politicalseverance from Spain, had not the accident of the Spanish-AmericanWar precipitated us upon the scene, and settled the matter by theimmediate expulsion of the Spanish Government. The only real point ofinfection left to create a sore in the new body Filipino--the friarlands--was fortunately so treated by Secretary Taft that it ceasedto menace the State or threaten to mingle religion with government. 

The Filipinos are tolerant of Protestantism because to them it isstill a purely religious and not a civil influence. They have notkilled or been killed for religion; for it they have not burnt thehomes of others, nor seen their own roof trees blaze; they have notgained power or office through religion; they have neither won norlost elections through it. They have the same tolerance in religiousmatters that they have in regard to the Copernican Theory or Kepler'sLaws. Religion, as pure religion, unrelated to land or land titles, property or office, is no more the source of party animosity to themthan to us. Secretary Taft was wise enough to see that, and eliminatedthe cause that threatened to make religion a vital question. 

But if religion is not consciously vital to the Filipinos, as theythemselves would conceive and act on it (and I make the assertion inthe assumption that the reader understands as I do by _consciouslyvital_ that for which the individual or the race is willing to diesingly or collectively), the unprejudiced observer must admit thatit is vital to their ultimate evolution, vital in just the sense thatany function is vital to one who is in need of it. As I said before, they are not essentially a religious people; but the early Spanishdiscoverers prescribed religion as a doctor prescribes a missingingredient in the food of an invalid, and the Filipinos have benefitedthereby, Roman Catholicism is just what the Filipino needs. He has nozest for morbid introspection, he does not feel the need of bearingtestimony to cosmic truth, and in his lack of feeling that need is justas helpless as the man whose system cannot manufacture the necessaryamount of digestive juices or red blood corpuscles; he is an invalid, who must be supplied artificially with what his system lacks. 

I am quite sure that the Catholic clergy, as represented bythe American Archbishop, bishops, and priests, are certain thatProtestantism holds no threats for the Church in the Philippinesother than that it may be the opening wedge in a schism which willsend the Filipino not only out of the Church, but to rationalism ofthe most Voltairian hue. When danger really threatens the Church inthe Philippines, it will be no half-way danger. The Filipino will beorthodox as he is now, formally, positively orthodox, or he will becynically heterodox. As God made him, he might in time have arrivedat the philosophy of Omar, "Drink, for ye know not why or when, "or the identical philosophy of Epicurus, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. " But the Church found him, and recognizing hispeculiarities artfully substituted her own phrase, "Eat and drink inpeace, for to-morrow you die in the full knowledge that pertains toyour salvation. " Let no proselyting evangelist delude himself with theidea that the Filipino has the mental bias which leads him to think, "Let me neither eat nor drink till I know whence I came and whitherI go. " That is the spirit of true Protestantism, which discovers anew light on faith every decade and still is seeking, seeking forthe perfect light. 

But if the Church in the Philippines is in no real danger fromProtestantism, it is in more or less imminent danger from twosources--the necessity for reform in the Church itself, and thegrowing national sense of the Filipinos, which leads them to demandtheir own clergy, and to resent to the point of secession a too firmhold by the new American clergy. 

CHAPTER XVI

My Gold-Hunting Expedition

Word of an Abandoned Gold Mine near Manila--I Arise Before ThreeA. M. And Find the Town Asleep--Our Trip down the River--Scenery andSights by the Way--Three Buffaloes Are Brought to Drag Us over theMud--Digging for Gold--I Fail As an Overseer of Diggers--Results ofthe Digging Unsatisfactory--The Homeward Trip. 

After Christmas we settled down to humdrum work, and barring mygold-hunting experience there was little to relieve the daily monotonyof existence. I wrote an account of the gold-hunting expedition as oneof a series of newspaper articles published in _The Manila Times_, With the consent of the editors, I now transcribe it bodily here, for, without any gleam of romance or adventure, the experience wasone typical of the land and of our life here, which I believe thegenerous reader will be willing to accept without any attempt on mypart to embellish it with excitement and lurid writing. 

Our Supervisor had gotten hold of a legend of an abandoned minein a mountain some four or five miles from town. According to thenative story, half a century or more before this period the mine wasworked, and considerable quantities of gold were taken out of it. Butdissensions arose between the _barrios_ that supplied the labor, andfinally the native priests ordered the shaft to be filled and closed, and all work to cease, lest it bring a curse upon the people. Theyobeyed, and the mining interests thereabouts fell into oblivion. 

The Supervisor had, with native assistance, located the spot, andmade a few crude washings in which he found "color. " Then he cameback to make a sluice box, and, together with a young lieutenant ofconstabulary, intended to pass the Sabbath day in further investigationof the mine's possibilities. 

The occasion was too tempting. I promptly laid siege to theSupervisor's wife, pleading that she induce her liege to let usaccompany him. As he was good-natured and the trip was short and easy, he consented. We were to leave town in a _baroto_ at three A. M. Toget the benefit of the tide. At half-past nine the night before, thelunch basket containing my contribution to the commissary departmentwas packed and suspended from the ceiling by a rope, protected bya petroleum-soaked rag, and I went to bed to dream of gold mines, country houses, yachts, and European travel. It was ten minutes tothree when I scrambled out in a great fright lest I should be lateand keep the others waiting. I lighted the alcohol lamp to boil thecoffee, and flew into my garments. But I dressed and ate and stillthey came not. So I poked my head out of the window into the sadradiance of a setting moon. 

It was a town sleeping peacefully, and yet with every hint of warlikepreparation that scattered itself along the river. In front of theofficers' quarters a sentry clanked up and down the pavement. Fromthe military jail came a sound of voices and the creaking of benches, as the guard turned on the hard bamboo seats, mingled also with asteady tramp. More sentries could be seen across the river, where thetroop barracks loomed up and almost hid the hills which gloomed overthe town. The bridge was in shadow, but now and then a tall figure, gun on shoulder, emerged at its farthest end into a pale little dashof moonlight. The lanterns which the Filipinos hang out ol theirfront windows in lieu of street lamps burned spectrally, because theywere clogged with lamp black. And the brooding and hush of night weredisturbed only by the rhythmic footfalls, or by the occasional slapof a wave against the bridge rests, or by a long shrill police whistlewhich told that the municipal police were awake and complying with theregulation to blow their whistles at stated intervals for the purposeof testifying to the same. It was all full of charm and suggestion, singularly like and singularly unlike an American village under thesame conditions of light and temperature. 

The moon sank so low that the mists caught it and turned its sheeninto a surly red. Presently a sentry challenged up by the jail, andthen the glint of white clothing grew distinct. I unhooked the lunchbasket and prowled my way out of the house, seeking to disturb nobodyand feeling quite adventurous. 

Our baroto with six native oarsmen was waiting at the stone stairwayin the shadow of the bridge, and as the tide was beginning to turn welost no time in bestowing ourselves and our provisions. The middleof the baroto, for a distance of about six feet, was floored andcanopied. Mr. L---- took the far corner, his wife pushed herselfand a couple of pillows up against him; then I braced myself and mypillows against her; and the unfortunate lieutenant fell heir to thefate of an obliging young gentleman and was stowed away at the end, supported (or incommoded) by the lunch baskets and an unsympatheticsoap-box filled with water bottles. The men unslung their revolvers, and we disposed ourselves so as to secure a proper equilibrium toour tippy craft, and were off. 

We slipped down the river, aided by the tide, and in a few minuteswere far away from the last house, the last gleam of light, andthe least sound of human life. Save for the soft dip of oars, not asound broke the night. Yet it was not silence so much as the sense ofdeep respiration, as if the earth slept and sent up an invocation tothe watching heavens. The banks were thickly weeded at the water'sedge with nipa, and behind that were knolls of bamboo with hereand there a gnarled and tortured tree shape silhouetted against thefaint sky. Occasionally we came to a convention of fireflies in thattree which they so much affect, the name of which is unknown to me, but which in size and outline resembles a wild cherry. Millions ofthem starred its branches, and in the surrounding gloom it winkedand sparkled like a fairy Christmas tree. 

We talked little, and were content to drink in the silence and thestrangeness, till by and by the wind fell cooler and we knew the dawnwas at hand. It seemed to come suddenly, bursting out of the east ina white glare, without the pearly tints and soft gray lights thatmark our northern day births. Then the white glare changed to red, to a crimson glow that painted the world with its glory, and dying, left little nebulous masses floating in the azure, tinted with pink, gold, and purple. 

With the first touch of light we turned out of the main river, which was now a broad estuary as it neared the sea, and fled down awater lane not over fifteen or twenty feet wide, absolutely walledwith impenetrable nipa growths. From this we emerged just as the dayplayed its last spectacular effects, and found ourselves in a deepoval indentation, glassy as an inland lake, whose bosom caught thechanging cloud tints like a mirror, and whose deep cool green borderswere alive with myriads of delighted birds, skimming, chattering, calling. Half a mile away, at its farther end, the surf leaped frothilyover a bar, and beyond that the open sea tumbled and flashed in thefirst sun-rays. It was idyllic--and on our left a mere stone's throw, it seemed, behind the embowering forest, the mountain of our questthrust a treeless, grassy shoulder into the blue. 

Mr. L----, however, warned us that our way was still long andcircuitous. We crossed the lagoon and went wandering off down a green, silent waterway which rejoiced in the appellation of "kut-i-kut" andproved itself unworthy of the same. The tide was going out rapidly, and the water mark oh the tree trunks was growing high. Sometimes wemet a baroto on its way to market with a cargo of three chickens, five cocoanuts, two bunches of bananas, one head of the family, four children, and several women unaccounted for. The freight washeaped at one end, and the passengers all squatted in that perfect, uncommunicative equilibrium which a Filipino can maintain for hoursat a time. Sometimes we came out where there were almost a hundredsquare yards of ground and two or three houses and the stir of morninglife. Ladies with a single garment looped under their arm pits werepouring water over themselves from cocoanut shells, and whole coloniesof game-cocks were tethered out on the end of three feet of twine, cursing each other and challenging each other to fights. The malepopulation almost to a man was engaged in the process of stroking thelegs of these jewels, to make them strong, and some of the childrenwere helping. 

As a rule, our advent generally disturbed these morning devotions, forAmerican women were still comparatively new and few in the province atthat time. A shout, "Americanas!" usually brought the whole villageto the waterside, where they bowed and smiled and stared, profferinghospitality, and exchanging repartee with the lieutenant, who usedthe vernacular. 

Meanwhile the tide went out and out, and we sank lower and lower inkut-i-kut till we were in a slimy ditch with four feet of bank oneach side. The turns and twists grew narrower, and the difficulty ofsteering our long baroto around these grew greater. The men got butand waded, pushing the baroto lightly over the soft ooze. But finallythis failed. It was eight o'clock, the sun climbing higher and burningfiercer, when we stuck ignominiously in the mud of kut-i-kut. 

After a short consultation the lieutenant sighed, cast a glance at themud and his clean leather puttees, then went overboard, taking a manwith him. They disappeared in the nipa swamps, but came back in halfan hour with three carabaos, their owners, and an army of volunteers. 

Our motive power, being hitched tandem, now extended round a couple ofbends, and there ensued the wildest confusion in an endeavor to getthem all started at the same time. Apparently it couldn't be done, and we wasted a half-hour, in which every native in the swamp seemedto be giving orders, and the overwhelming desire of the carabaos wasto swarm up the bank and get out, without regard to the effect on thebaroto. The lieutenant had come aboard and was sitting on the highprow dangling his muddy leggins ahead. To him Mr. L---- in disgustsuggested that the _taos_ were making little real effort and that he"stir 'em up, " Soothe lieutenant drew his revolver and at a seasonof discord aimed it carefully in the high distance and fired. 

The effect on the humans was just what he desired, but he did not allowfor the nervousness of the carabaos on hearing a revolver shot in alocality where it is distinctly not native. The unanimity thait hadso long been sought swept like an epidemic into our lumbering steeds, and our baroto started ahead with a firmness of purpose that sent theauthor of this book flying into the mud, and bumped us all up mostgloriously as we lunged round the corner. The good work once begunwas not allowed to fall slack, however. The lieutenant caught up andclimbed aboard, and we swept through the three miles of kut-i-kutin a wild cavalcade, rolling like a ship in a storm. At its end westruck upon water, and parted from our long-horned _ayudantes_. 

A short row up a narrowing stream brought us to the place ofdisembarkation, an open grassy field which swept down from a cleftbetween the mountains. We walked across this till we came to abrook purling out of cool green shadows, and after following it ina rather stiff climb for about forty-five minutes, came to the sceneof investigation. 

There, the week before, the men had built a dam, and had thrown arough framework and shelter across the bed of the stream. This they nowcovered with freshly cut boughs and leaves, and Mrs. L---- and I wereonly too glad to spread our pillows and lie down for a few minutes inthe cool shade with the water bubbling and murmuring underneath. I waspretty well done with the heat and the unaccustomed exercise, but wassoon rested and helped to make the coffee. That was a good meal, spicedwith waiting, and immediately after we went at the business at hand. 

The men set up the sluice box, which the _taos_ had brought alongwith labor and disgust, and giving me a revolver, commissioned me tosee that the excavating department kept busy. So I sat on the edgeof a twenty-foot bank clasping the Colt, and hanging my feet intovacancy. I hadn't felt so close to childhood for many a long year. 

For an hour or so all went well, and the cheerful _tao_ dug and delvedand carried without murmur. Then his diligence subsided and therewas a talk of "siesta. " Somebody down at the sluice box shouted, "Keep busy up there"; so, after one or two efforts to hurry up ourminions, I pointed the pistol carefully into the ground and fired. Theyall jumped prodigiously and looked around. But I couldn't play thepart. I didn't look stern, and I simply sat there grinning fatuouslywith the sense of my own valor, whereupon the _taos_ burst into ashout of laughter and seemed to think a bond of friendship had beenestablished between us. They got lazier and lazier and smiled atme more and more openly, and made what I judged to be remarks aboutmy personal appearance. So at another convenient opportunity I letoff another shot, which was a worse fizzle than the first. One oldfellow whose back was glistening with sweat turned and winked at me, and another pretended to hunt for imaginary wounds. 

Recognizing that I was an ignominious failure in the public worksdepartment, I left it to manage itself and strolled over to add myinexperience and ignorance to the sluicing agency. 

Mrs. L---- had anticipated me and was already advising the willingworkers when I appeared. On the whole, they were pretty patient aboutit all, and let us ask innumerable questions and make suggestions(which, however, they never observed) _ad libitum_. 

But however little I knew about gold-mining, I have shared one thingwith the real prospector--the eager, fascinated, breathless suspenseof staring into a fold of blanket for "color. " When we really saw avagrant glint here and there, what delight!--delight easily quenchedby Mr. L----, however, who declared the yield too small for a payingbasis. 

All that hot summer day, we dug and washed and watched, but withunsatisfactory results. In the long-shadowed afternoon we packedtraps and set off down the valley. The egrets, camping by dozens onfeeding carabao, flapped away as we approached; we found our barotoas we had left it, rising gently on the incoming tide in the shadeof a clump of bamboo. 

The homeward journey, if not one of resignation to the will ofProvidence, had its compensation in the loveliness of afternoon lightsand the cool, peaceful silence of the forests. We avoided the insidioussnares of kut-i-kut, but found our lagoon just bestowed for the night, snug, glassy, with the dusk creeping on and on. Thence we passedinto the open sea, were cradled gently into our own bay, and saw thecoastguard station at the inlet send ruddy gleams across the water, beneath the lowering form of the hill. Once in the river, we fairlyflew along, bathed in moonlight. We neared home, heard bands playingin the distance, and, with sudden remembrance that it was a nativefiesta, turned the bend and saw a fairy city aglow with lanterns, where eighteen hours before had been silence and stealth. All thecraft in the river were hung with multicolored lights, and the peoplewere out promenading, while a crowd of school children, sitting onthe river bank, were singing "Old Kentucky Home" in four parts. 

It was a happy day, one of those photographic experiences to betreasured forever, but the dream of yachts and country houses neverhas become a reality. If an energetic prospector wishes to try, hewill find in a cleft between two tall mountains an abandoned shaft andthe remains of a dam spanning a mountain stream. But let him not tasteof the babbling water. I did, and put in six weeks of illness therefor. 

CHAPTER XVII

An Unpleasant Vacation

The Inspector's Nightly Bonfires--Our Vacation in Manila and inQuarantine--After Our Return to Capiz Cholera Breaks Out--Record ofOur Experiences During the Epidemic. 

School closed in March, and Miss C---- and I decided to spend ourvacation in Manila. We were to leave Capiz on the small army transport_Indianapolis_ and go to Iloilo, thence by the _Compania Maritima's_boat to Manila. 

The _Indianapolis_ was carrying an inspector around the island, which gave us a four days' trip to Iloilo. The sea was perfectlysmooth and the nights brilliant moonlight. We ran from town to townwherever a military detachment was stationed, and the inspector wentashore and inspected. This rite usually culminated in a huge bonfireon the beach, in which old stoves, chairs, harnesses, bath towels, andtypewriters were indiscriminately heaped. I remarked once with civiliandensity that this seemed a most extravagant custom. If the army didnot want these things longer, why not let them fall into the handsof others who could patch them up and make use of them? The captainof the transport explained to me that all condemned articles must beirretrievably destroyed to prevent fraud in subsequent quartermasters'accounts. For example, if a quartermaster has a condemned stove whichis not destroyed, he can sell a perfectly new stove, and on the nextvisit of the inspector present again the condemned article to berecondemned, and continue to follow this practice till he has robbedthe Government of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Of course it wasplain enough after the explanation, and I wondered at my stupidity. 

Our four days' trip around the island was uneventful save for thenightly bonfires of the inspector. Once at San Joaquin a fine militaryband came down to the beach and played for an hour in the silvermoonlight. I enjoyed immensely the music, the bonfire (which wasburning enthusiastically), the wonderful light, the tranquil expanseof the China Sea, and the delicate spire of the village church, rising in the ethereal distance from glinting palm fronds. Nothingis more beautiful than the glisten of moonlight on palms. 

Arrived at Iloilo, I was taken ill almost immediately with theprevailing tropical evil, dysentery, presumably the result of drinkingspring water on the gold hunt. At the same time there came down thereport that cholera was epidemic in Manila. Nevertheless, when I wasable to travel, to Manila I went, and there loathed myself, for it wasblistering hot. I was staying at a hotel in the Walled City, and thegreat yellow placards announcing cholera were to be found on housesof almost all streets in the vicinity. But when I was ready to leave, the full evil of a cholera epidemic made itself apparent. There wasno getting out of Manila without putting in five days' quarantine inthe bay. 

We went aboard on the twenty-seventh of May. The steamer pulled outinto the bay and dropped anchor. We were paying five pesos a daysubsistence during this detention, and yet we were supplied with noice and no fresh meat. We consumed the inevitable goat, chicken, and garbanzos, the cheese, bananas, and guava jelly, and the samelukewarm coffee and lady-fingers for breakfast. Owing to the heat, and the lack of fans, the staterooms were practically impossible, and everybody slept on deck either on a steamer chair or on an armycot. The men took one side of the deck, and the women the other. Byday we yawned, slept, read, perspired, and looked longingly out atManila dozing in the heat haze. There were several Englishmen aboard, and they were supplied with a spirit kettle, a package of tea, sometins of biscuits, and an apparently inexhaustible supply of Cadbury'ssweets, which they dispensed generously every afternoon. They hadalso a ping-pong outfit, and played. 

Every day the doctor's launch came out to see that none of us hadescaped or developed cholera, and it brought us mail. DecorationDay was heralded by the big guns from Fort Santiago and the fleet atCavite, and as I recalled all the other Decoration Days of my memory, the unnaturalness of a Decoration Day in the Philippines became moreand more apparent. 

Our quarantine was up on Sunday morning, but at the eleventh hour itwas noised about that we should not leave, because a lorcha whichwe had to tow had failed to get her clearance papers. Our spiritsdescended into abysmal infinity. We felt that we could not endureanother twenty-four hours of inaction. 

The lorcha was a dismasted hull, no more, with a Filipino family andone or two men aboard to steer. We had a Scotch engineer who mighthave been the original of Kipling's McFee. I spoke to him about therumor as he leaned over the side staring at the lorcha, and he gavevent to his feelings in a description of the general appearance of thelorcha in language too technically nautical for me to transcribe. Atthe end he waxed mildly profane, and threatened to "pull the dom noseout of her" when once he got her outside of Corregidor. 

The rumor proved a _canard_, however, and we lined up at eleveno'clock, while the doctor counted us to see that we were all aliveand well. Then up anchor and away, with the breeze born of motioncooling off the ship. 

The engineer was not able to keep his dire threat about the lorcha'snose, but it is only just to say that he tried to. We met a heavy seaoutside of Corregidor, and never have I seen anything more dizzy anddrunken and pathetic than the rolls and heaves of the lorcha. 

At Iloilo we met the army transport _McClellan_, and continued ourvoyage upon her to Capiz. We bade farewell to her with regret, andconsumed in an anticipatory passion of renunciation our last meal withice water, fresh butter, and fresh beef. The _McClellan_ took away thetroops of the Sixth Infantry and the Tenth Cavalry, and left us, intheir stead, a detachment of the Ninth Cavalry, which remained perhapstwo months, and was then stationed at Iloilo, leaving us with nothingbut a troop of native _voluntarios_, or scouts, officered by Americans, and a small detachment of native constabulary. We had barely accustomedourselves to this, and ceased to predict insurrection and massacre, when the cholera, which we had hoped to avoid, descended upon us. 

I am sorry that I can relate no deeds of personal heroism or ofself-sacrifice in the epidemic. There didn't seem to be any placefor them, and I am not certain that I knew how to be heroic andself-sacrificing. I was not, however, so nervous about the choleraas some Americans were, and I like to convince myself that if anyof my friends had sickened with it and needed me, I should have goneunhesitatingly and nursed them. Fortunately (or unfortunately for theproof of my valor) this was not the case. The scourge stayed withus between two and three months. The highest mortality was betweena hundred and a hundred and fifty deaths a day, and by its ravagesCapiz was reduced from a first-class city of twenty-five thousandinhabitants to a second-class city of less than twenty thousand. Ikept a brief record, however, of our experiences during that time, and once again, by permission of _The Times_, insert them here. 

_September 8. _ Miss P----, Dr. B----, and I were out for a longwalk this afternoon. They left me at my door just as Mrs. L---- andMrs. T---- drove up in the latter's victoria. Both ladies were muchexcited by the news that a parao had landed at the playa with onedead man and a case of cholera still living. The other people of theparao had scattered before the health officers got hold of the matter. 

_September 9. _ The story about the parao has been confirmed. We hadhoped to escape the epidemic, but are in for it now, for certain. 

_September 10. _ It is rumored that two cases of cholera developedyesterday. Dr. B---- denies it, says they are nothing but acutedysentery. Dr. S---- thinks they are cholera. 

_September 11. _ Whatever this illness be, it kills people in a veryshort time. A little public-school boy was taken sick last night, and died in three or four hours. Natives are terribly frightened, and we Americans are far from comfortable. 

_September 12. _ Several more deaths. Dr. S---- says cholera. Dr. B----says if there has been a case of cholera in town he will eat hishat. They are making every effort to find out what it is, but thebacillus is shy, and refuses to respond to the searchings of themicroscope. 

_September 13. _ Cholera increasing. Dr. B---- has given in atlast. A scout died, and they made an examination of the stomach andbowels. Found the bacillus. Dr. B---- says if I will come around tothe hospital, he will show me one. 

_September 14. _ Have seen the comma bacillus. It is certainly aninsignificant microbe to be raising so much trouble. Got hold ofa report from the Board of Health, saying that, if the epidemicgrew worse, the public school buildings should be converted intohospitals. Took it over to the Deputy Division Superintendent toprotest. Schoolhouses are scarce here. Cannot afford to infect them. 

_September 15. _ The schools are closed to-day, the number of deathshaving passed ten _per diem_. As I am the only householder, the otherteachers are to have their meals with me till the epidemic is over. 

_September 16. _ The house smells to high heaven! The provincialSupervisor came in this morning with a quart of crude carbolic acid, about half a bushel of chloride of lime, and a lot of camphor. Iimmediately put the camphor in my trunks, having wanted some forquite a little time, and devoted the rest of the stuff to its properuses. Put the lime over the stone flagging below, with a large heap atthe foot of the stairs, so that everybody coming in must walk throughit. The floors and stairs are frightfully tramped up. Ciriaco, much tohis disgust, had to wash off all the furniture with _agua finecada_(diluted carbolic acid). Bought a new kettle in which to boil thedrinking-water. Bought yards and yards of new tea towelling, and gaveorders that, after being once used, the dish towel is to be boiledbefore using again. 

_September 18. _ Dr. S---- says get nothing out of the market. Dr. B----says he eats cucumbers three times a day. What the doctor can risksurely the layman can chance. I buy cucumbers still. On being broughtinto the house they are washed in diluted carbolic acid, and rinsedin boiled rain water. Then the servant washes her hands in bichloridesolution, peels the cucumber, slices it and lets it stand in vinegartill meal time. Dr. B---- says the vinegar is sure death to theshy bacillus. 

_September 19. _ All the change is deposited in _agua finecada_ when theservant comes in from market. What could we do without cucumbers? Howweary we are of the canned stuff from the commissary! It is rumoredthat Dr. S---- and wife will not eat butter, because it must standtoo long. Mrs. S---- bakes her own bread, and, it is reported, locks her cook up at night for fear he may escape and visit amonghis kindred. He is not allowed to leave the premises by day. 

Miss P---- tells me that at Mrs. T----'s the visitor is requested toscrape his feet in the chloride of lime at the foot of the stairs, and, on arriving at the top, is presented with a bowl of _agua finecada_, wherein to wash his hands. The towel has been boiled, and, of course, a fresh one is provided for each person. This is not so extravagant asit sounds. We Americans are few in number, and do but little visitingthese days. 

_October 3. _ Saw four cholera patients carried past to-day. Thenew cholera hospital is now open, and a credit to the town. Deathsaverage about fifty per day. The town is unutterably sad. Houses areclosed at dusk, and not a gleam of light shines forth where thereused to issue laughter and song. The church, which used to resemble akaleidoscope with the bright-hued raiment of the women, is now filledwith kneeling figures in black. So far, the sickness has not touchedthe _principales_. Only the poor people are dying. There is a SanRoque procession every night. Fifty or a hundred natives get a lotof transparencies and parade in front of the altars of the Virgin andSan Roque. A detachment of the church choir accompanies, caterwaulingabominably. It is all weird and barbaric and revolting--especiallythe "principal" in a dress suit, who pays the expenses, and, with acandle three feet long, paces between the two altars. I always setthree or four candles in my windows, which seems to please the people. 

_October 6. _ Mr. S----, being a member of the Board of Health, hasbeen engaged in inspecting wells. The natives are now saying that hepoisoned them. He is indignant, and we are all a little uneasy. We area handful of Americans--fifteen at the most. We have little confidencein the native scouts, though their officers insist on their loyalty. Weare twenty-four hours from Iloilo by steamer, and forty-eight fromManila, and are without a launch at this port. In case of violentanimosity against us, the situation might become serious. 

_October 7. _ At dinner last night, Mr. S---- said there had been ananti-American demonstration in the market, and that a scout had cried, "Abajo los Americanos!" That settled me. I lost my nerve completely, and went up and asked Dr. And Mrs. S---- to let me spend the nightat their house. They were lovely about it, and salved over mymortification by saying that they wondered how I had been able tostand it so long, alone in the native quarter. Slept badly in thestrange house, and am afraid I gave much trouble. 

_October 8. _ Got some command of my nerves last night, and stayed athome, though I asked the officer commanding the constabulary for aguard. He was most accommodating and outwardly civil, though it wasapparent he thought I was making a goose of myself. The guard came, in all the glory of khaki, red-shoulder-straps, 45-calibre revolver, and rifle--don't know whether it was a Krag or a Springfield. At anyrate, he was most imposing, and, as he unrolled his petate on thedining-room floor, assured me in broken Spanish that he would protectme to the last. I bolted my door and went to bed. Slept wretchedly, being, it must be confessed, about as much afraid of the guard as ofthe possible anti-Americanos. 

_October 9. _ Last night, decided that I had yielded to my nerves longenough. Stayed at home, and didn't ask for a guard either. Being muchexhausted by two nights of wakefulness, slept soundly all night. To-daythe world looks bright and fresh, and my late terrors inexplicable. 

_October 12. _ Poor M---- has the cholera. His duties as a road overseerhave taken him into the province, and he has been forced to eat nativefood. He got a bottle of chlorodyne and seemed to feel that it wouldsave him. 

But to-day he is down. Mr, S---- brought the news when he came by totake me for an afternoon walk. We met the inspector and the padre, coming from M----'s house. Extreme unction had been given him and allhope of recovery was gone, though both American physicians had beenwith him all day and were making every effort to save him. He askedfor Mr. S----, so the latter left me to go to his bedside. 

At seven o'clock Mr. S---- went by in the dusk, and called to me fromthe street to send his dinner up to his house. Poor M---- had justdied. Mr. S---- held his hand to the last, and was on his way hometo burn his shoes and clothing and to take a bath in bichloride. 

Most of the American men went in to see M----. I am glad of it. Itmay not be sanitary, but it is revolting to think of an Americandying alone in a Filipino hut. 

M---- was buried to-night. I saw the funeral go by. First came thebody in the native coffin, smeared with quicklime. The escort wagonloomed up behind in the starlight, full of American men, and thencame the scout officer and his wife in the spring wagon. M---- wasonce a private in the Eighteenth Infantry. 

Just after this mournful little procession went by with its queermuffled noises, the big church bell boomed ten, and the constabularybugles from the other end of the town blew taps. The sound came faintlyclear on the still night air, and the tall cocoanut tree that I loveto watch from my window drooped its dim outline as if it mourned. 

_October 15. _ The weather remains bright and hot in spite of ourcontinual prayers for rain. The natives say a heavy rain and windwill "blow the cholera away. " The deaths have now swelled to morethan a hundred a day, though the disease remains largely among thepoor. Yesterday I saw a man stricken in the street. He lay on hisback quite still, but breathing in a horrible way. The bearers cameat last and carried him away on a stretcher. Two cases were takenout of the house next door to me. 

_October 16. _ Ceferiana professed to be ill this morning, and I wasalarmed. I dosed her with the medicine which Dr. S---- had given mewhen the epidemic first appeared, and sent for the Doctor himself. ButI discovered, before he came, that she had gotten too close a whiffof the chloride-of-lime bag, and it nauseated her. She is more afraidof the disinfectants than of the disease. 

_October 20. _ Have had to chastise Tomas, and have thus violatedGovernor Taft's standards for American treatment of our brownfriends. Tomas is about forty and the father of a small boy, andMr. S----, who contemplates setting up a bachelor's establishment whenthe epidemic is over, fondly dreams that Tomas embodies the essentialsof a cook. So Mr. S---- brought Tomas down, accompanied by his son, a child of twelve, with the request that I train them for him. I setthem first to washing dishes, and had a struggle of a week or so'sduration in trying to adjust Tomas's conception of that labor to myown. I particularly ordered that no refuse was to be thrown in theyard or under the house. This rule was violated several times, andmy patience pretty well exhausted. I stepped into the kitchen thismorning just in time to see Tomas doubling over, and poking the coffeegrounds down between the bamboo slats of the flooring. The Americanbroom was handy, and the angle of Tomas's inclination was sufficientto expose a large area of resisting surface. So I promptly "swatted"Tomas with the broom with such energy that the coffeepot flew up inthe air and he tumbled over head foremost. His small boy sent up awail of terror; and Billy Buster, the monkey, who was discussinga chicken bone, fled up to the thatch, where he remained all dayuntil coaxed down by the tinkle of a spoon in a toddy glass. Tomaswas out of breath, but not so much so that he could not ejaculate, "Sus! Maria Santisima, Señorita!" in injured tones. Ciriaco, the cook, lay down on the floor and laughed. Later I heard him and Ceferianaagreeing that I was "_muy valiente_"

_October 25. _ In spite of the agua finecada and the boiled towel, Mrs. T----'s cook has developed cholera. Though I speak of it lightly, I am truly sorry for them, for Mrs. T---- is exceedingly nervous, and they have a little child to care for. 

There is a slight diminution in the death rate, and we begin to hopethe worst is over. 

_October 28. _ The death rate is still decreasing. When will therain come?

To-day I discovered that all the elaborate boilings of dish cloths andtowels that have been carried out here since the epidemic began havebeen a mere farce. Every day for a week I went out and superintendedthe operation till I thought Ceferiana had mastered it. She had, indeed, caught the details, but quite missed the idea. She found theprocess of suspending the dish towel on a long stick till it was coolenough to wring out, a tedious one, so she set her fertile brain towork to find an expedient in the way of a bucket of cool well water, into which she dropped them. Well water! All but pure cholera! Wehad a hearty laugh over it at dinner to-night, though Mr. C----looked grave. His official dignity sits heavily upon him. 

Tomas dodges me when he passes. I find it impossible to restorehis confidence. 

_November 2. _ The rains have come, and whether they have anything todo with it or not, the epidemic is subsiding. Two days ago, when thefirst shower broke after an inconceivably sultry morning, the bearerswere passing with a couple of cholera patients on stretchers. They wereat first minded to set them down in the rain, but thought better ofit, and carried them into my lower hall. The shower lasted only a fewminutes, and then they went on their way, and Ciriaco and I descendedand sprinkled the floor all over with chloride of lime. While theywere there, I was nervously dreading the sounds of the great sufferingwhich accompanies cholera. But the patients were very quiet. 

To-night at dinner Mr. C---- tasted his coffee and lookedsuspicious. In my capacity of boarding-house keeper, I was instantlyalarmed and tasted mine. It seemed to have been made with _aguafinecada_. Miss P---- said plaintively that she had as lief die ofcholera as of carbolic acid poison. Neither Ciriaco nor Ceferianacould explain. They conceded that the _agua finecada_ was there, but could not say how. They were not much concerned, and seemed toregard it as a pleasing sleight-of-hand performance on their part. 

_November 5. _ Only eighteen deaths to-day! If the decrease continuesteady, we shall open school in a few days. It will be a relief afterthe long tension of these two months--for it was a tension in spiteof our refusal to discuss its more serious aspects. We have taken alllegitimate precautions, and laughed at each other's oddities, knowingthat it is better to laugh than to cry. But had sickness come to anyof us as in the case of poor M----, everybody stood ready to chanceall things to aid. But we come out unscathed with the exception ofthat one poor fellow. 

_November 14. _ School will begin to-morrow! Have had to dischargeTomas. He went to Baliwagan, a barrio where the cholera is stillraging, last night, and Mr. S---- was properly incensed. As a partingbenediction, Tomas stole a lamp of mine, but I haven't the energyto go after him. Besides, I have a guilty conscience, and if Tomasfeels our account is square, I am willing to accept his terms. 

_November 15. _ Began work again to-day. The school is much fallenoff. Many pupils are dead, and the rest have lost relatives. It isa gloomy school, but the worst is over. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The Aristocracy, the Poor, and American Women

Aristocracy and "Caciquism" in the Philippines--Poverty of theFilipino Poor--Happiness in Spite of Poverty--Virtual Slavery of theRustics--Their Loyalty to Their Employers--Wages in Manila and in theProvinces--Many Resources Possessed by the Upper Classes--Chafferingfor All Kinds of Produce--Happiness Within the Reach of AmericanWomen if Employed--American Women Safe in the Philippines--After aVisit to America I Am Glad to Return to the islands. 

To an American of analytical tendencies a few years in the Philippinespresent not only an interesting study of Filipino life, but a novelconsciousness of our own. The affairs of these people are so simplewhere ours are complex, so complex where ours are simple, that one'sangle of view is considerably enlarged. 

The general construction of society is mediæval and aristocratic. Thearistocracy, with the exception of a few wealthy brewers and cigarmanufacturers of Manila, is a land-holding one. There is practicallyno bourgeoisie--no commercial class--between the rich and the poor. InManila and all the large coast towns trade is largely in the hands offoreigners, chiefly Chinese, some few of whom have become convertedto the Catholic faith, and established themselves permanently in thecountry;--all of whom have found Filipino helpmates, either with orwithout the sanction of the Church, and have added their contingentof half-breeds, or _mestizos_, to the population. 

The land-owning aristocracy, though it must have been in possessionof its advantages for several generations, seems deficient in jealousexclusiveness on the score of birth. I do not remember to have heardonce here the expression "of good family, " as we hear it in America, and especially in the South. But I have heard "He is a rich man" soused as to indicate that this good fortune carried with it unquestionedsocial prerogative. Yet there must be some clannishness based uponbirth, for your true Filipino never repudiates his poor relationsor apologizes for them. At every social function there is a crowd ofthem in all stages of modest apparel, and with manners born of socialobscurity, asserting their right to be considered among the elect. I aminclined to think that Filipinos concern themselves with the presentrather than the past, and that the _parvenu_ finds it even easier towin his way with them than with us. Even under Spanish rule poor menhad a chance, and sometimes rose to the top. I remember the case, inparticular, of one family which claimed and held social leadership inCapiz. Its head was a long-headed, cautious, shrewd old fellow, with somany Yankee traits that I sometimes almost forgot, and addressed himin English. My landlady, who was an heiress in her own right, and thelast of a family of former repute, told me that the old financier cameto Capiz "poor as wood. " She did not use that homely simile, however, but the typical Filipino statement that his pantaloons were torn. Shetook me behind a door to tell me, and imparted the information in awhisper, as if she were afraid of condign punishment if overheard. 

"Money talks" in the Philippines just as blatantly as it does inthe United States. In addition to the social halo imparted by itspossession, there is a condition grown out of it, known locally as"caciquism. " Caciquism is the social and political prestige exercisedby a local man or family. There are examples in America, where everyvillage owns its leading citizen's and its leading citizen's wife'sinfluence. Booth Tarkington has pictured an American cacique in "TheConquest of Canaan. " Judge Pike is a cacique. His power, however, is vested in his capacity to deceive his fellowmen, in the American'snatural love for what he regards as an eminent personality, and hisclinging to an ideal. 

A Filipino cacique is quite a different being. He owes his prestigeto fear--material fear of the consequences which his wealth and powercan bring down on those that cross him. He does not have to play ahypocritical role. He need neither assume to be, nor be, a saint inhis private or public life. He must simply be in control of enoughresources to attach to him a large body of relatives and friends whosefinancial interests are tied up with his. Under the Spanish regimehe had to stand in by bribery with the local governor. Under theAmerican regime, with its illusions of democracy, he simply points tohis _clientèle_ and puts forward the plea that he is the natural voiceof the people. The American Government, helpless in its great ignoranceof people, language, and customs, is eager to find the people's voice, and probably takes him at his word. Fortified by Government backing, he starts in to run his province independently of law or justice, and succeeds in doing so. There are no newspapers, there is noreal knowledge among the people of what popular rights consist in, and no idea with which to combat his usurpations. The men whom hesqueezes howl, but not over the principle. They simply wait the dayof revolution. Even where there is a real public sentiment whichcondemns the tyrant, it is half the time afraid to assert itself, for the tyrant's first defence is that they oppose him because he is afriend of the American Government. Local justice of the peace courtsare simply farcical, and most of the cacique's violations of rightkeep him clear at least of the courts of first instance, where thejudiciary, Filipino or American, is reliable. Thus our Government, in its first attempts to introduce democratic institutions, findsitself struggling with the very worst evil of democracy long beforeit can make the virtues apparent. 

The poor people among the Filipinos live in a poverty, a misery, anda happiness inconceivable to our people who have not seen it. Theirpoverty is real--not only relative. Their houses are barely a coveringfrom rain or sun. A single rude bamboo bedstead and a stool or twoconstitute their furniture. There is an earthen water jar, anotherearthen pot for cooking rice, a bolo for cutting, one or two woodenspoons, and a cup made of cocoanut shells. The stove consists of threestones laid under the house, or back of it, where a rice-pot may bebalanced over the fire laid between. There are no tables, no linen, no dishes, no towels. The family eat with their fingers while sittingabout on the ground with some broken banana leaves for plates. Coffee, tea, and chocolate are unknown luxuries to them. Fish and rice, withlumps of salt and sometimes a bit of fruit, constitute their onlydiet. In the babies this mass of undigested half-cooked rice remainsin the abdomen and produces what is called "rice belly. " In the adultsit brings beriberi, from which they die quickly. They suffer fromboils and impure blood and many skin diseases. Consumption is rife, and rheumatism attacks old and young alike. They are tormented bygnats and mosquitoes, and frequently to rid themselves of the pestsbuild fires under the house and sleep away the hot tropical night inthe smoke. While the upper classes are abstemious, the lower ordersdrink much of the native _vino_, which is made from the sap of cocoanutand nipa trees, and the men are often brutal to women and children. 

I think the most hopeful person must admit that this is an enumerationof real and not fancied evils, that the old saw about happinessand prosperity being relative terms is not applicable. The Filipinolaborer is still far below even the lowest step of the relative degreeof prosperity and happiness. Yet in spite of these ills he is happybecause he has not developed enough to achieve either self-pity orself-analysis. He bears his pain, when it comes, as a dumb animaldoes, and forgets it as quickly when it goes. When the hour of deathdescends, he meets it stoically, partly because physical pain dullshis senses, partly because the instinct of fatalism is there in spiteof his Catholicism. 

Of course this poverty-stricken condition is largely his own fault. Hehas apparently an ineradicable repugnance to continued labor. Hedoes not look forward to the future. Fathers and mothers will sitthe whole day playing the guitar and singing or talking, after thefashion of the country, with not a bite of food in the house. Whentheir own desires begin to reinforce the clamors of the children, they will start out at the eleventh hour to find an errand or an oddbit of work. There may be a single squash on the roof vine waitingto be plucked and to yield its few centavos, or they can go out tothe beach and dig a few cents' worth of clams. 

The more intelligent of the laboring class attach themselves as_cliente_ to the rich land-holding families. They are by no meansslaves in law, but they are in fact; and they like it. The men areagricultural laborers; the women, seamstresses, house servants, and wetnurses, and they also do the beautiful embroideries, the hat-plaiting, the weaving of piña, sinamay, and jusi, and the other local industrieswhich are carried on by the upper class. The poor themselves havenothing to do with commerce; that is in the hands of the well-to-do. 

As the children of the _clientèle_ grow up, they are scatteredout among the different branches of the ruling family as maids andvalets. In a well-to-do Filipino family of ten or twelve children, there will be a child servant for every child in the house. Thelittle servants are ill-fed creatures (for the Filipinos themselvesare merciless in what they exact and parsimonious in what they give), trained at seven or eight years of age to look after the room, theclothing, and to be at the beck and call of another child, usually alittle older, but ofttimes younger than themselves. They go to schoolwith their little masters and mistresses, carry their books, and playwith them. For this they receive the scantiest dole of food on whichthey can live, a few cast-off garments, and a stipend of a medio-peso(twenty-five cents cents U. S. Currency) per annum, which their parentscollect and spend. Parents and child are satisfied, because, littleas they get, it is certain. Parents especially are satisfied, becausethus do they evade the duties and responsibilities of parenthood. 

It was at first a source of wonder to me how the rich man came out evenon his scores of retainers, owing to their idleness and the demandsfor fiestas which he is compelled to grant. But he does succeed ingetting enough out of them to pay for the unhulled rice he givesthem, and he more than evens up on the children. If ever there wasa land where legislation on the subject of child labor is needed, it is here. Children are overworked from infancy. They do much of thework of the Islands, and the last drop of energy and vitality is gonebefore they reach manhood or womanhood. Indeed, the first privilegeof manhood to them is to quit work. 

The feeling between these poor Filipinos and their so-called employersis just what the feeling used to be between Southerners and theirnegroes. The lower-class man is proud of his connection with the greatfamily. He guards its secrets and is loyal to it. He will fight forit, if ordered, and desist when ordered. 

The second house I lived in in Capiz was smaller than the first, and had on the lower floor a Filipino family in one room. I demandedthat they be ejected if I rented the house, but the owner begged meto reconsider. They were, she said, old-time servants of hers to whomshe felt it her duty to give shelter. They had always looked afterher house and would look after me. 

I yielded to her insistence, but doubtingly. In six weeks I wasperfectly convinced of her wisdom and my foolishness. Did it rain, Basilio came flying up to see if the roof leaked. If a window stuck andwould not slide, I called Basilio. For the modest reward of two pesosa month (one dollar gold) he skated my floors till they shone likemirrors. He ran errands for a penny or two. His wife would embroiderfor me, or wash a garment if I needed it in a hurry. If I had an errandwhich took me out nights, Basilio lit up an old lantern, unsolicited, and went ahead with the light and a bolo. If a heavy rain came up whenI was at school, he appeared with my mackintosh and rubbers. And whilea great many small coins went from me to him, I could never see thatthe pay was proportional to his care. Yet there was no difficulty incomprehending it. Pilar (my landlady) had told him to take care of me, and he was obeying orders. If she had told him to come up and bolome as I slept, he would have done it unhesitatingly. 

The result of American occupation has been a rise in the price ofagricultural labor, and in the city of Manila in all labor. Butin the provinces the needle-woman, the weaver, and the houseservant work still for inconceivably small prices, while therehas been a decided rise in the price of local manufactures. Jusi, which cost three dollars gold a pattern in 1901, now costs six andnine dollars. Exquisite embroideries on piña, which is thinner thanbolting cloth, have quadrupled their prices, but the provincial womenservants, who weave the jusi and do the embroidering, still work fora few cents a day and two scanty meals. 

When I arrived here a seamstress worked nine hours a day for twentycents gold and her dinner. Now in Manila a seamstress working forAmericans receives fifty cents gold and sometimes seventy-five centsand her dinner, though the Spanish, Filipinos, and Chinese pay less. Inthe province of Capiz twelve and a half cents gold per day for aseamstress is the recognized price for an American to pay--nativesget one for less. A provincial Filipino pays his coachman two anda half dollars gold a month, and a cook one dollar and a half. AnAmerican for the same labor must pay from four to eight dollars forthe cook and three to six dollars for the coachman. As before stated, the subordinate servants in a Filipino house cost next to nothing, because of the utilization of child labor. 

A provincial Filipino can support quite an establishment, and keepa carriage on an income of forty dollars gold a month where to anAmerican it would cost sixty or eighty dollars. This is due partly toour own consumption of high-priced tinned foods, partly to the betterprice paid for labor, but chiefly to our desire to feed our servantsinto good healthy condition. We not only see that they have more food, but we look more closely to its variety and nutritious qualities. Weemploy adults and demand more labor, because our housekeeping is morecomplex than Filipino housekeeping, and we expect to employ fewerservants than Filipinos do. 

The Filipinos, the Spanish, and even the English who are settledhere cling to mediæval European ideas in the matter of service. Ifthey have any snobbish weakness for display, it is in the number ofretainers they can muster. Just as in our country rural prosperity isevinced by the upkeep of fences and buildings, the spic and span newpaint, and the garish furnishings, here it is written in the number ofservants and hangers-on. The great foreign trading firms like to boastof the tremendous length of their pay rolls. They would rather employfour hundred underworked mediocrities at twenty pesos a month thanhalf a hundred abilities at four times that amount. The land-holderslike to think of the mouths they are responsible for feeding so verypoorly, and the busy housewife jingles her keys from weaving-room toembroidery frame, from the little _tienda_ on the ground floor, whereshe sells _vino_, cigars, and betel-nut, to the extemporized bakeryin the kitchen, where they are making rice cakes and taffy candy, which an old woman will presently hawk about the streets for her. 

One of the curious things here is the multiplicity of resource whichthe rich classes possess. A rich land-holder will have his rice fields, sugar mill, vino factory, and cocoanut and hemp plantations. He willown a fish corral or two, and be one of the backers of a deep-seafishing outfit. He speculates a little in rice, and he may have someinterest in pearl fisheries. On a bit of land not good for much elsehe has the palm tree, which yields _buri_ for making mats and sugarbags. His wife has a little shop, keeps several weavers at work, and an embroidery woman or two. If she goes on a visit to Manila, the day after her return her servants are abroad, hawking novelties inthe way of fans, knick-knacks, bits of lace, combs, and other thingswhich she has picked up to earn an honest penny. If a steamer dropsin with a cargo of Batangas oranges, she invests twenty or thirtypesos, and has her servants about carrying the trays of fruit forsale. According to her lights, which are not hygienic, she is a goodhousekeeper and a genuine helpmeet. She keeps every ounce of food underlock and key, and measures each crumb that is used in cooking. Shekeeps the housekeeping accounts, handles the money, never pries intoher husband's affairs, bears him a child every year, and is content, in return for all this devotion, with an ample supply of prettyclothes and her jewels. She herself does not work, busy as she is, and it speaks well for the faith and honor of the Filipino peoplethat she can secure labor in plenty to do all these things for her, to handle moneys and give a faithful account of them. It is pitifulto see how little the Filipino laboring class can do for itself, how dependent it is upon the head of its superiors, and how contentit is to go on piling up wealth for them on a mere starvation dole. 

As before said, the laboring man who attaches himself to a greatfamily does so because it gives him security. He is nearly alwaysin debt to it, but if he is sick and unable to work he knows hisrice will come in just the same. Under the old Spanish system, aservant in debt could not quit his employer's service till the debtwas paid. The object of an employer was to get a man in debt andkeep him so, in which case he was actually, although not nominally, a slave. While this law is no longer in force, probably not ten percent of the laboring population realize it. They know that an Americancannot hold them in his employ against their will, but they do notknow that this is true of Filipinos and Spaniards. Nor is the upperclass anxious to have them informed. The poor frequently offer theirchildren or their younger brothers and sisters to work out their debts. 

Children are sold here also. Twice in my first year at Capiz, I refusedto buy small children who were offered for sale by their parents lestthe worse evil of starvation should befall them; and once, on my goinginto a friend's house, she showed me a child of three or four yearsthat she had bought for five pesos. She remarked that it was a pityto let the child starve, and that in a year or two its labor wouldmore than pay for its keep. 

Filipinos who have capital enough all keep one or more pigs. Theseare yard scavengers, and, as sanitary measures are little observedby this race, have access to filth that makes the thought of eatingtheir flesh exceedingly repulsive. When the owners are ready to kill, however, the pig is brought upstairs into the kitchen, where it livesluxuriously on boiled rice, is bathed once a day, and prepared forslaughter like a sacrificial victim. If you are personally acquaintedwith a pig of this sort and know the day set for his decease, youmay send your servant out to buy fresh pork; otherwise you had betterstick to chicken and fish. 

Before the Insurrection, when the rinderpest had not yet destroyed theherds, beef cattle were plenty, and meat was cheap enough for even thepoorest to enjoy. A live goat, full grown, was not worth more than apeso (fifty cents gold). Now there are practically no beef cattle atall, so the only meat available is goats' flesh, which is sold at fromtwenty to sixty cents a pound (ten to thirty cents gold). Americansliving in the provinces rely largely upon chicken, though in the coasttowns there is always plenty of delicious fish. There are also oysters(not very good), clams, crabs, shrimps, and crayfish. 

One of the most irritating features of housekeeping here is thelack of any fixed value, especially for market produce. There are nogrocery stores, every article must be chaffered over, and is valuedaccording to the owner's pressing needs, his antipathy for Americans, or his determination to get everything he can. 

You may be driving in the country and see a flock of chickensfeeding under or near a house. You ask the price. The owner has justdined. There is still enough _palay_ (unhulled rice) to furnish theevening meal. He has no pressing need of money, and he doesn't wantto disturb himself to run down chickens. His fowls simply soar as toprice. They are worth anywhere from seventy-five cents to a dollarapiece. The current price of chickens varies according to size andseason from twenty to fifty cents. You may offer the latter price andbe refused. The next day the very same man may appear at your home, offering for twenty or thirty cents the fowls for which the day beforehe refused fifty. 

Except in the cold storage and the Chino grocery shops of Manila, nothing can be bought without chaffering. The Filipinos love this;they realize that we are impatient and seldom can hold out long at it, and in many cases they overcharge us from sheer race hatred. Alsothey have the idea, as they would express it, that our money istwo times as much as theirs, and that therefore we should pay twoprices. Often they put a price from sheer caprice or effrontery andhang to it from obstinacy. In the same market I have found mangoesof the same quality ranging all the way from thirty cents to a dollarand fifty cents a dozen. 

In the provinces market produce is very limited. In fresh foods thereis nothing but sweet potatoes, several varieties of squash, a kind ofstring bean, lima beans, lettuce, radishes, cucumbers (in season), spinach, and field corn. Potatoes and onions can be procured onlyfrom Manila, bought by the crate. If there be no local commissary, tinned foods must be sent in bulk from Manila. The housekeeper's taskis no easy one, and the lack of fresh beef, ice, fresh butter, and milkwears hard on a dainty appetite. The Philippines are no place for womenor men who cannot thrive and be happy on plain food, plenty of work, and isolation. Nor is there any sadder lot than that of the Americanmarried woman in the provinces who is unemployed. Her housekeepingtakes very little time, for the cheapness of native servants obviatesthe necessity of all labor but that of supervision. There is nowhereto go, nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to talk about. Shehas nothing to do but to lie in a steamer chair and to think ofhome. Most women break down under it very quickly; they lose appetiteand flesh and grow fretful or melancholy. But to a woman who lovesher home and is employed, provincial life here is a boon. Rememberthat for an expenditure of forty or fifty dollars a month the singlewoman can maintain an establishment of her own--a genuine home--whereafter a day's toil she can find order and peace and idleness awaitingher. Filipino servants are not ideal, but any woman with a capacityfor organization can soon train them into keeping her house in theoutward semblance at least of order and cleanliness. She had betterinvestigate it pretty closely on Saturdays and Sundays; if she doesso, she can leave it to run itself very well during the five days ofher labor. And what a joy it is--I speak in the bitter remembranceof a long line of hotels and boarding-houses--to go back to one'shome after a day's labor instead of to a hall bedroom; to sit atone's own well-ordered if simple table, and escape the chatter oftwenty or thirty people who have no reason for association excepttheir economic necessities!

In the six years I have lived in these Islands, I have never heard ofindignity or disrespect shown to American women. [1] They are perfectlysafe, and if they choose to exercise any common sense, need not benervous. Housebreaking outside of Manila is unknown. I myself livedfor four years in a provincial town, the greater part of the time quiteremoved from the neighborhood of other Americans, with only two littlegirls in the house with me. I remember one evening having a couple ofcivil engineers, who had been fellow passengers on the transport andwere temporarily in town, to dinner. When they were ready to leave, at half-past ten, the little girls had both gone to sleep, so I wentdownstairs to let them out and bar the door after them. One burstout laughing and remarked that my bolting the door was a formality, and that I must have confidence in the honesty of the natives. Thedoor was of bamboo, tied on with strips of rattan in place of hinges, which any one could have cut with a knife. I admitted that the man wasright, but the closed door was the symbol that my house was my castle, and I had no fear of Filipino thieves. The only time I was ever reallyafraid was when there were two or three disreputable Americans in town. 

The two girls from Radcliffe were in a town in Negros where there wasno other American, man or woman, and held their position for over ayear; nor were they once affrighted in all that time. 

After five years of this peace and security in the "wilds, " I went backto the United States and met the pitying ejaculations of the communityon my exile. Well, there was a difference. I noted it first on thedining-car of the Canadian-Pacific Railroad, where one's plate wassurrounded by a host of little dishes, where the clatter of servicewas deafening (so different from the noiselessness of the Oriental), and the gentleman who filled my water glass held it about three feetfrom the water bottle, and manipulated both in sympathetic curveswhich expressed his entire mastery of the art. I found it again on theNorthwestern, where the colored porter, observing some Chinese coinsin my purse when I tipped him, said, "Le's see, " with a confidenceborn of democracy, and sat down on the arm of the Pullman seat toget a better view of them. 

But it was in Chicago--the busy, noisy, dusty, hustling Chicago--thatall the joys of civilization fell on me at once. It seemed to be in astate of siege with house thieves, assassins, and "hold-ups. " Therehad been several murders of women, so revolting that the newspaperswould not print the details. I found my brother's flat equipped withspecial bolts on all outside doors, so that they could be opened foran inch or two without giving anybody an opportunity to push in. Oncewhen a police officer called at the door to ask for subscriptionsfor the sufferers of the San Francisco disaster, I locked him outon the back porch while I did some telephoning to see if it was allright. Women were afraid to be on the streets in the early dusk. Extrapolicemen had been sworn in, preachers had delivered sermons on thefrightful condition of the city. 

At night I locked my bedroom door, and dreamed of masked burglarsstanding over me threatening with drawn revolver. For the thirty daysI remained there, I knew more of nervousness and terror than the wholetime I spent in the Philippines, and I came back to resume the oldlife where there is security in all things, barring a very remoteinsurrection and the possibility of hearing the roar of Japaneseguns some fine morning. And through and through a grateful system Ifelt the lifting of the tremendous pressure, the agonizing strain, competition, and tumult of American life. Thank Heaven! there is stilla mañana country--a fair, sunny land, where rapid transportation andsky-scrapers do not exist. 

CHAPTER XIX

Weddings in Town and Country

Filipino Brides, Their Weddings and Wedding Suppers--River Tripto a Rural Wedding--Our Late Arrival Delays the Ceremony Until NextMorning--The Ball--We Tramp Across the Fields to the Church--Afterthe Marriage, Feasting and Dancing. 

The composure with which a Filipino girl enters matrimonyis astounding. There are no tears, no self-conscious blushes, none of the charming shyness that encompasses an American girl asa garment. It is a contradictory state of affairs, I must admit, for this same American girl is a self-reliant creature, accustomedto the widest range of action and liberty, while the matter-of-fact, self-possessed Filipina has been reared to find it impossible to stepacross the street without attendance. But the free, liberty-lovingAmerican yields shyly to her captor, while the sedateness of theprospective matron has already taken possession of the dusky sister. 

Filipino marriages, among the upper class, are accompaniedby receptions and feasts like our own, but differ greatly inthe comparatively insignificant part played by the contractingparties. Whereas, in an American wedding, the whole object of callingall these people together seems to be a desire to silhouette thebride and groom against the festive background, one comes away froma Filipino celebration with a feeling that an excuse was neededfor assembling a multitude and permitting them to enjoy themselves, and that the bridal pair unselfishly lent themselves to the occasion. 

Most weddings take place about half-past six or seven in the evening;and immediately after the religious ceremony in the church, all theinvited guests adjourn to the home of a relative (usually, but notnecessarily, the nearest kinsman of the bride), where supper is servedand is followed by a ball. 

On these occasions, except for the candles on the altar, the church isunlighted, and in its cavernous darkness the footfalls of a gatheringcrowd ring on the stone floor, and the hum of voices rolls up intothe arching gloom of the roof. 

There are no pews, but two rows of benches, facing each other, up themiddle length of the edifice, offer seats to the upper-class people, who seem chiefly interested in preserving the spotlessness of theirgala attire. No attempt at exclusiveness is made, and a horde ofbabbling, gesticulating, lower-class natives surges to and fro atthe rear, awaiting the bride. 

Presently, to the clangor of half a dozen huge bells, she sweeps in, accompanied by her _madrina_, or chief witness. They take stationat the back between the baptismal fonts and just in front of theoverhanging choir gallery. Instantly they are hemmed in, mobbed, by that swarm of _pobres_, some speculating on the motive of thematch and its probable outcome. Meanwhile the bridegroom is smoking acigarette at one side, and chatting with a group of bachelor friendswho are faithful to the last. 

Just as one begins to wonder how much longer these unfortunate womencan endure the position, the barefooted acolytes shuffle in, bearingsix-foot silver candlesticks, and preceding the padre, who is carryinghis illumination with him--or rather, having it carried in front ofhim. The bridegroom throws away his cigarette, and shouldering his waythrough the press, takes his position at the side of the bride. Themob closes in again, not infrequently incommoding the padre, who ispeering at his half-lighted missal. The aristocrats on the benchespay no attention and continue to guard their _ropa_ and converse onchance topics. 

To one standing on the edge of that wriggling throng with the yellowflare just lighting the impassive countenances of its chief personages, and hearing a low monotone, broken only by the clink of metal as goldpieces fall into the plate, it is difficult to believe that this isa wedding, just like those pictured and tableau effects that one istreated to at home. 

At last the voice stops, the mob and the smoky candles surge forwardto the altar, where the benediction is said. Another impeded progressto the rear (everybody gets up without waiting for the bride andbridegroom to pass), the sorely tried couple step into a waitingvictoria, and we troop after them, getting our felicitations ready. 

On arriving at the house we are received by the groom and some femalerelative of his, or, perchance, the bride's papa. No opportunityof formally congratulating the young couple is offered. The brideretires into an inner room, where she removes her veil, and receivessuch of her lady friends as desire to kiss her on both cheeks. Butby and by she comes out, self-possessed and unsmiling, to distributethe fragments of her artificial orange blossom wreath to her aspiringgirl friends. This is a parallel to the distribution of wedding cake, which the American girl puts under her pillow and dreams upon. 

By this time the orchestra has arrived and is playing triumphantlyunder the windows. Though engaged beforehand, it alwaysaccomplishes its appearance with a casual and unpremeditated air. Themusicians are then (per contract) invited to enter, and strike up arigadon. Generally, but not always, the most important man presentinvites the bride for this dance. But I have known brides to sit itout, for lack of a partner. The bridegroom chooseth as he listeth;when American women are present, the fathers of the bride and groomusually request the honor of leading them out. 

After this first dance supper is served. If an important nativeofficial be present, it is a point of etiquette that he take thebride. Only a few men of high rank sit at the first table, which isgiven over to women. The service is not left to servants, but allmale relatives of the family vie with each other in anticipating thewants of the guests. 

It is a feast of solid and satisfying excellence. It begins usuallywith vermicelli soup (made from a lard stock) which is more than likelyto have been dished a half-hour and to be stone cold. But Filipinosare not critical in this regard; and Americans, in view of all thatis coming, may dispense with this one dish. 

Then follow meats innumerable, each with its own garnish, but withoutseparate vegetables. There is goat's flesh stewed with garbanzos, onions, potatoes, and peppers; chicken minced with garlic, and greenpeas; chicken boned and made to look and taste like breaded cutlet;boiled ham; a fat capon, boned, stuffed, and seasoned with garlic, his erstwhile proud head rolling in scarified humility; breaded porkchops; roast pork, with unlimited crackling; cold turkey; baked duck, and several kinds of fish. 

There are no salads, but plenty of relishes, including the cannedred peppers of Spain; olives, pickles, cheese, and green mangopickles. At intervals along the table are alluring glass dishes, filled with crystallized fruits. 

After this come the sweets. There is no cake, as we know it, butmeringues (French kisses), baked custard coated with caramel sauce, which they call _flaon_; a kind of cocoanut macaroon, the littlegelatinous seeds of the nipa palm, boiled in sugar syrup, and halfa dozen kinds of preserves and candied fruits. Tinto accompanies thesupper, and possibly champagne. 

As two or three hundred people are served on such an occasion, theintermission for supper is a long one, and dancing is not resumedtill half-past nine or ten o'clock. It may then continue tillmidnight or dawn, just as the actions of a few important guests maydetermine. Filipinos are very quick to follow a lead; and if, owingperhaps to a concurrence of events which may be perfectly foreign tothe occasion, a number of prominent people leave early, the rest soontake flight. 

In one of the later years of my stay my good fortune led me towitness a wedding of another type, which differed from the class Ihave described as the simple rural gathering at home differs from theexotic atmosphere of a fashionable reception. It was just after myreturn from vacation that one morning a group of my pupils burst in, accompanying a middle-aged Filipina who hesitatingly made known hererrand. Her niece, who lived some five or six miles up the river, was to be married that night, and a large number of people from townwere going up. Could I accompany them, and would I act as one of thethree _madrinas_ for the occasion? As the bride was of an insurrectofamily, whose name was familiar through bygone military acquaintances, I snapped at an opportunity to view the insurrecto upon his own(pacified) hearth, and after consuming a hasty lunch and packing avalise, I set out for the river bank where we were to rendezvous. 

Our craft, a catamaran made by securing three barotos side byside and flooring them with bamboo, was the centre of great publicexcitement. It had a walk dutrigged at each side for the men who wereto punt, or pole us up the river. It was roofed with a frameworkof bamboo, which was covered with palm, leaves and wreathed in_bonoc-bonoc_ vines, and from this green bower were suspended thefruits of the season. --bananas, the scarlet _sagin-sagin_, and evensucculent ears of sweet corn. 

Cane stools were provided for a few, but many of the young people satflat on the floor. When we were embarked, to the number of about forty, the barotos were so deep in the water that the swirling current waswithin an inch of their gunwales. A tilt to one side or a wave inthe river would have sunk us. 

The baggage and a few supernumerary young men and a mandolin orchestrawere loaded into an enormous baroto, and ten sturdy brown backs bentforward as the boatmen pushed with all their strength against the greatbamboo poles, which looked as if they would snap under the strain. 

The river was swollen with three days' tropical downpour and runningout resistlessly in the teeth of a high tide. As we slipped out of theshallow water at the bank, the current caught us and hurled us fiftyfeet down stream. The baroto left apparently for the port, which wasfour miles away. Our valiant punters were useless against the river;but amid a hubbub in which every man, woman, and babe aboard, exceptone American man and myself, appeared to be giving orders, we gotback to the bank and shipped an additional crew. This consumed time, because the spectators, who had seen what work it was going to be, were coy of enlisting. But at last we got away, eight men to a side, and the water perceptibly nearer the gunwales, and with infinite laborwe succeeded in poling around a bend and leaving the town behind us. 

But there we stuck again in a swift reach, and there were time andopportunity to marvel at the impenetrable green and silence of the nipaswamps. The banks--or rather limits of the current--were thickets ofwater grass six feet high, its roots sunk in ooze. Here and there arise of ground betrayed itself in a few cocoanuts, the ragged fans oftall bouri palms, or a plume-like clump of bamboo and the hospitableshade of a magnificent mango tree. 

The atmosphere was close and muggy, and now and then a shower pattereddown on us. Suddenly, through the strange desolation of this alienlandscape, the familiar thump of guitars and mandolins assailed thestillness. The music carried me back to half-forgotten experiences--redsunsets between the cathedral bluffs of the Mississippi, and sad-eyednegroes twanging the strings on the forward deck of a nosing steamboat;crisp July afternoons on the Straits of Mackinac when the wind sweptin from froth-capped blue Huron, and the little excursion steamerfrom St. Ignace rollicked her way homeward to the cottage-crownedheights of the island. 

I shut my eyes and tried to "make believe" that they would open onfar-off, familiar scenes. Nothing could have been more weird andincongruous than the American air with this alien soil and people. Itwas "Hiawatha, " and to the inspiring strains of "Let the women dothe work, let the men take it easy, " our forgotten baroto swept intosight in the easy water under the opposite bank. We made a herculeaneffort, inspired by envy, and got away. Space forbids me to enumeratethe hairbreadth escapes of that journey. We put men ashore when thebanks permitted and were towed like a canal boat. Once we were sweptinto mid-stream, where the poles were useless on account of the greatdepth, and had to drift back till the water shoaled again. In lateafternoon we took on a supply of sugar cane, and chewed affably allthe rest of the way. 

At first I had been nervous, but my native friends were quiteunconcerned. So remembering that Heaven protects the insane and theimbecile, and regarding them as the former and myself as the latter, I ceased to speculate on the probabilities of another incarnation. 

We consumed six hours in a journey normally accomplished in two, andnight overtook us in a labyrinth of water lanes above whose forestedswamps the outlines of a stern old church were magnified in thegloom. One by one the stars sprang mysteriously into view in the softvoid overhead, and somehow--marvellously--we found our destination. Agroup of friends and servants flared their torches on the bank, and wedragged our stiffened limbs to them. It was too dark to see where wewere going, until we stumbled almost into a lighted doorway and foundthe company awaiting us. Owing to the delay in our arrival, the weddingwas deferred till the next morning, but the ball was about to open. 

Food was given us, and after a freshening up and a change of raimentwe joined the reunion, which was in full swing. The prospectivehusband and wife were enjoying their usual state of effacement, butI discovered them finally. I talked with the insurrecto and foundhim a man of ability. 

I left the ball, exhausted, at one o'clock, but those indefatigablepeople kept it up all night. I awoke at dawn to find the flooroccupied by about twenty yawning maidens who were merely resting, for there was no time for a nap. We dressed in the cool dawn breezeand went out in time to see the morning mists rise from a broad ovalof rice and maize fields, and hang themselves in ever-changing foldson the sides of the purple mountains beyond. 

But for the character of the vegetation that rimmed the arable land, and the bare green shoulders of the hills, streaked here and therewith pink clayey ravines, it might have been a peaceful sunrise inmiddle America. The homelike atmosphere was accentuated by the roofsof a town and by a church spire, still silvered with mist, half a mileaway. We tramped across the fields to our objective point. As madrina, I walked with the bride, but conversation did not thrive because shespoke little Spanish, and I less Visayan. 

Carabaos sniffed at us as we passed, and people crowded their windowsto look. We crossed a slough upon a bridge of quaint and ancientarchitecture on the thither side of which were a grassy plaza andthe stern lines of the church. The wedding bells broke forth in afurious joy and flung their notes to the distant hill flanks, whichin turn flung them back to the blue, sparkling sea. 

The church was tiled in black and white marble, and inhabited bya lusty family of goats. Their innate perversity and an apparentcuriosity led them to resent exclusion; but after a lively pursuitthey were ejected, and the bride and I sat on a bench to rest. Thebridegroom took a last smoke, and the strangers deciphered obituarynotices on the mural tombstones. 

The padre came along finally, smelling of a matutinal appetizer, and they distributed pillows and candles to the _madrinas_ and_padrinos_. As evidence of change of heart in the late insurrecto, the pillows were some of red, some of white, and some of blue cloth. 

It was over at last, when I was stiff with kneeling and had ornamentedmyself with much candle grease. I went up to congratulate the bride, but felt that the handshake was not coming off properly. Finally Idiscovered that I was resisting an effort on her part to bring myhand to her lips. So I succumbed and submitted to the distinction, and she then proceeded to salute the other madrinas. 

There was nothing coy or sentimental about that bride. She neededno support, moral or other. Sweet sixteen, "plump as a partridge, "she gathered up her white silk skirt with its blue ribbons and struckout for home. Her husband made no attempt to follow her. She beatus all home by a quarter of a mile. When we arrived, she had changedher gown and was supervising breakfast preparations. 

I was tired, and when a native sled drawn by a carabao came along, was glad enough to seat myself on its flat bottom, together with one ortwo wearied maidens, and be drawn back in slow dignity. We intercepteda boy with roasting ears, and the wedding guests sat about, nibblinglike rodents while we waited breakfast. 

After that meal dancing began again and continued until dinner. Oncethe floor was cleared, and the bridal pair danced one waltztogether. They did not glance once at each other, and seemed bored. 

Dinner was another feast, and afterwards we sought our state barge andthe perils of the return journey. The newly married couple came down tosee us off, still bearing themselves with a preoccupied and listlessair. The orchestra remained until the next day, and we threaded thewater lanes in quiet, emerging at last on the full-breasted river. Thehome journey consumed only three hours, and was comparativelyuneventful. The wife of the Presidente gathered her family about herand artlessly searched their raven pates for inhabitants which payno taxes, and most of the young people drooped with weariness. Werounded the bend at five o'clock; and thankful I was to put foot on_terra firma_ once more. I was tired, but glad that I had gone. 

CHAPTER XX

Sickbeds and Funerals

Customs in the Treatment of the Sick--Stately Funeral Processions--TheFuneral of a Poor Man--Unsociableness of the Poor--Wakes and Burialof the Rich--A "Petrified" Man. 

Filipinos are punctilious about many things concerning which we havepassed the extremely punctilious stage. Some of their strictestobservances are in the matters of sickness and death. The sickhave what we would consider a hard time. To begin with, they areimmured in rooms from which, as far as possible, all light and airare excluded. In a tropical climate, where the breeze is almostindispensable to comfort, the reader may imagine the result. Thenall their relatives, near and far, flock to see them; they crowd theapartment, and insist on talking to keep the patient from becoming_triste_. When the sufferer finds this insupportable and gives upthe struggle to live, the whole clan, out to the last connection, set about preparing their mourning. 

Every woman makes a black dress, and every man ties a band of blackcloth around his white coat sleeve. When there is a wake, it isnoisy enough to be Irish. Our Eastern friends resemble the Irishalso in their love of a fine funeral. To go to the last resting-placeescorted by a band and with all possible ceremony seems to make evendeath acceptable to them. 

Among the very poor this ambition is quite disproportionate to theirresources. The percentage of infant mortality, owing to poor nutrition, is especially high; yet babe after babe whose mother unwittinglystarved it to death is given a funeral in which the baby carriagehearse is preceded by a local band, and hired mourners stalk solemnlybehind the little coffin in place of the mother, who is, in etiquette, required to remain at home. 

In Manila funerals resemble our own, save that the hearse, be it whitefor a child or black for an adult, is drawn by stately caparisonedhorses, at the bridles of which stalk men in eighteenth-century courtcostumes, which include huge shoe buckles, black silk stockings, and powdered wigs. The carriages flock behind with little pretence oforder, and at a sharper pace than is customary with us. The populaceare, however, most respectful; rich and poor alike remove their hatswhen the funeral _cortege_ is passing. 

In the provinces where there are no hearses, a funeral consistsusually of a coffin carried on the shoulders of four men, andfollowed by a straggling concourse of mourners. If the corpse bethat of a child, it not infrequently lies, gorgeously dressed, upon the blue-and-pink-beribboned cushions of a four-wheeled babycarriage. New-born babes are buried in tiny coffins covered with pinkor blue cambric. 

The Filipinos say that when a child dies its pure little soul goesstraight to _gloria_, wherefore it is much to be congratulated onleaving this abode of sorrow for one of unending happiness, and onlygay music is used at the funeral. The local bands play solely by ear, and make the most of whatever music they hear sung or whistled onthe streets, with the result that strangely inappropriate selectionsare used on these occasions. At the first child's funeral I ever saw, the band was playing "Hot Time, " and a friend to whom I related thisfact, declared that at the first one he ever saw they were playing, "I don't care if you never come back. " This sounds too fortuitouslyhappy to be true, but it is quite within the possible. 

When I had lived in Capiz a year or two, my washerman, or _lavandero_, died, and his widow, pointing to a numerous progeny, besought foran advance of five pesos for necessary funeral expenses. She wantedten, but I refused to countenance that extravagance. She did notseem overcome by grief, and her plea of numerous offspring was reallyvalueless, for, if anything, they were all better off than before. Herlord had been only a sham washerman, collecting the garments for herto wash, delivering them, and pocketing the returns, of which he gaveher as small a moiety as would sustain life, and spent the rest onthe cockpit. 

Funerals in a country where there are no preservatives take placevery soon. The lavandero died at dawn, his widow made her levy onme before seven o'clock, and, coming home that afternoon, I met thefuneral in a thickly shaded lane. 

Local tradition disapproves of the appearance of near femalerelations at a funeral, so the dead man's escort consisted only ofthe four bearers, and three small boys, all under eleven years ofage. The coffin was one in general use--rented for the trip to thecemetery! Once there, the body, wrapped in its _petate_, or sleepingmat, would be rolled into a shallow grave. 

The four bearers were dirty and were chewing betel-nut as theytrudged along under their burden. Behind them came the dead man's son, apparelled in a pair of blue denim trousers. His body, naked to thewaist, was glistening brown after a bath, and he carried under onearm a fresh laundered _camisa_, or Chino shirt, of white muslin, to be put on when he reached the church. 

His two supporters were the brothers of my _muchacha_, who lived inthe same yard and who evidently had convictions about standing by acomrade in misfortune. The elder, a boy of seven, was fairly clean;but the younger, somewhere between three and five, was clad in asingle low-necked slip of filthy pink cotton, which draped itself ata coquettish angle across his shoulders, and hung down two or threeinches below his left knee. His smile, which was of a most engagingnature, occupied so much of his countenance that it was difficult tofind traces of the pride which actually radiated from the other two. 

My curiosity was enough to make me turn and follow them to thechurch. There the body was deposited on the floor at the rear, just below a door in the gallery which led to the priest's house, or_convento_. The bearers squatted on their heels and fell to wrapping uppieces of betel-nut in lime paste and _buya_ leaf, while a sacristanwent to call the priest. The dead man's son reverently put on hisclean shirt, and the youngest urchin sucked his thumb and continuedto grin at me. 

Presently a priest came through the door and leaned over thegallery, followed by two sacristans, one bearing a censer and theother a bell. The censer-bearer swung his implement vindictivelyin the direction of the corpse, while the other rang a melodiouschime on the bell. At this all the babies fell on their knees. Thepriest muttered a few lines of Latin, made the sign of the cross, and disappeared to another chime of the bells and a last toss of thecenser. The bearers picked up the coffin, and the little processionwent on its way to the cemetery. The ceremony lasted about one minuteand a half, and consumed three out of my five pesos. 

This incident illustrates neatly the friendless condition in whichmost Filipino poor live. Filipino lower-class people are gregarious, but not sociable. They are averse to solitary rural life and tendeverywhere to live in villages, but they visit little with each other, and seem very indifferent to the cordial relations which bind ourown laboring classes together. 

In the same yard with the dead lavandero lived at least ten or twelveother families, yet no one could be found to accompany him to hisgrave save two play-mates of his son. 

If the poor are fond of display, the rich outvie them. The pomp of arich man's obsequies finds its beginning while he is yet on earth, whenthe padre goes in state to administer extreme unction. His vehicle, agilt coach which looks like the pictures of those of the seventeenthcentury, is often preceded by a band, while the priest within isarrayed in embroidered vestments. When the _surra_, or horse disease, had made a scarcity of those animals, the padre's gilded equipage hadto be drawn by a cebu, or very small and weary-looking cow, importedfrom Indo-China. The spectacle of this yoke animal, the gilt coach, and the padre in all his vestments was one not to be forgotten. 

When the rich man dies, there is generally a wake, noisy enough, asbefore stated, to be Irish, and a pretentious funeral. Five o'clockin the afternoon seems to be a favorite hour for this. In the rainyseason, with sodden clouds hanging low in the sky, with almond treesdripping down, and the great church starred with candles which donot illuminate but which dot the gloom, the occasion is lugubriousindeed. Fresh flowers are little used, but _immortelles_ and setdesigns accompanied by long streamers of gilt-lettered ribbon attestthe courtesy of friends. 

They bury the dead--that is, all the upper-class dead--in _nichos_, or ovens, such as are found in the old cemeteries of New Orleans. Thecemetery, which is usually owned, not by the municipality but by thechurch, is surrounded by a brick or stone wall six or eight feet highsurmounted by a balustrade of red baked clay in an urn design. Theovens form their back walls against this, and are arranged in tiersof four or five, so that the top of the ovens makes a fine promenadearound three sides of the enclosure. In the centre there is generallya mortuary chapel, where the final words are said. From the chapeltiled walks lead out to the ovens. The plan is a very pretty one, and if the cemeteries were kept in good condition, it would bebeautiful. But they are nearly always dirty and neglected. 

In the open ground between the chapel and the sides, the poor peopleare rolled into graves so shallow that a little digging would soonexhume the body. 

The nichos, or ovens, are rented by the year; if the tenant's survivingfamily are not prompt with the annual payment, the body is taken out, the bones cast ruthlessly over the back fence, and the premises oncemore declared vacant. 

When we first came, there used to be a great heap of these bones atthe back of the Paco Cemetery in Manila, but so much was said aboutthem that the Church grew sensitive and removed them. Our cemeteryat Capiz also had its bone heap. 

An American negress, a dressmaker who was working for me, told methat there was a petrified man, an American, in the Paco Cemetery, and that the body was on exhibition. She had been to see it, and itwas wonderful. I had my doubts about the petrifying, but as I had topass the cemetery on leaving her house, I asked the custodian at thegate if there was such a body there. He said that the body had justbeen removed by the city authorities to be placed in the "Cemeteriodel Norte, " where there is a plot for paupers. The body was that ofan American, buried in the cemetery five years before. His rent, five pesos a year, had been prepaid for five years, but his timehad run out. When they came to take out the body, which had beenembalmed, it was found in a remarkable state of preservation. Thecustodian said, with an irreligious grin, that in the old days thecondition of the body would have been called a miracle, and a patronsaint would have been made responsible, and all the people would havecome, bearing lighted candles, to do honor to the saint; and he addedregretfully that it was no good in these days. The Americans wouldsay that it was because of their superior embalming process. "Butwhat a chance missed!" he said, "and what a pity to let it gowith no demonstration!" There are many ways of looking at the samething. I could not help laughing, thinking of the negress. She said, "He's sittin' up there by the little church, lookin' as handsome aslife--and him petrified!"

CHAPTER XXI

Sports and Amusements

Dancing, Cock-fighting, Gambling, Theatricals--Sunday inthe Philippines--Lukewarmness of Protestant Christians in thePhilippines--How a Priest Led Astray the Baptist Missionary'sCongregation on Thanksgiving--Scarcity of Amusements in ProvincialLife--An Exhibition of Moving Pictures--Entertainments for the PoorerNatives--The Tragedy of the Dovecot. 

The Filipino's idea of a good time is a dance. Sometimes, in thecountry, a dance will go on for forty-eight hours. People will slipout and get a little sleep and come back again. Next to the dance, the cock-fight is their chief joy. A cock-fight is, however, not aprolonged or painful thing. Tiny knives, sharp as surgical instruments, are fastened to each bird's heels, and the cock which gets in thefirst blow generally settles his antagonist. 

Gambling is the national vice. The men gamble at _monte_ and_pangingue_, and over their domino games, their horses, and theirgame-cocks. The women of both high and low class not infrequentlyorganize a little card game immediately after breakfast and keep at ittill lunch, after which they begin again and play till evening. Womenalso attend the cock-fights, especially on Sunday. Often the cockpitis in the rear of the church and the convento; and the padre derivesa revenue from it. 

Manila, being the metropolis, has its theatres, cinematograph shows, and music halls. Nearly every year there is a season of Italian opera, in which the principals are very good, and the chorus, for obviousreasons, small and poor. Most of the theatrical talent which wandersin and out comes from Australia. One theatre, which American womendo not patronize, keeps a sort of music-hall programme going allyear. There are many smaller theatres, where plays in the Tagaloglanguage, the products of local talent, are presented. I cannot saywhat is the trend of these at the present time, but seven years agothe plots nearly all embraced bad Spanish frailes who were pursuinginnocent Filipino maidens, and who always came to an end worthy oftheir evil deeds. The disposition to express racial and politicalhatreds in those plays was so strong that a friend in asking me to gonaïvely pictured his conception of them in the invitation. He said, "Let's go over to the Filipino theatre and see them kill priests. "

Of course, there is no Puritan Sabbath in the Philippines. Theatres, balls, and receptions are carried on without any observance of thatday. The Protestant churches make a valiant effort to keep a tightrein over their flocks, but with little success. It cannot truthfullybe said that most Americans here are either fond of church-going orfond of the church social, which, with its accompanying features ofsongs, recitations, and short addresses by prominent citizens, whowere never designed by the Creator to speak in public, and its creaturecomforts of home-made cake and ice cream, has leaped the Pacific. 

During my third year in Capiz a Baptist missionary arrived and took uphis work. He seemed to feel that he had a claim upon all Americansto rally to his support. But, alas! they did not come up to hisexpectations. Some were Roman Catholics; others, of whom I was one, had an affection for the more formal, punctilious service of theChurch of England; and even two or three nonconformist teachersrealized that a too open devotion to the missionary cause wouldhopelessly endanger their usefulness as teachers. 

So the missionary carried on his services for nearly a year, and nosingle American appeared at them. His congregation, which was largelyrecruited from the poorer classes, and which had been hoping for thesocial advantage which would be derived from the American alliance, naturally pressed the unfortunate missionary for a reason. The sorelytried man spoke at last. He said briefly that the Americans in Capizwere pagans. 

On one occasion the missionary arranged a service for Thanksgivingmorning and invited us personally. Of course we all said that weshould be glad to go. But the astute padre of the Church Catholicwas not going to have any such object lesson as that paraded beforehis flock. He arranged for the singing of a _Te Deum_ in honor of theday at half-past nine, just half an hour before the time set for theother service. Then he got the Filipino Governor to send out writteninvitations from his office in such a way that the affair assumedthe complexion of a national courtesy offered by the Filipino tothe American. For us, as Government employees, to disregard thiswas impossible. So we went _en masse_ to the Roman Catholic church, where two rows of high-backed chairs were arranged facing each otherup the centre of the church for our high mightinesses. 

We had agreed privately that after the _Te Deum_ we would go overto the Protestant chapel, and not leave the poor missionary to feelhimself wholly deserted. But no opportunity came. The service wasprolonged till any hope of our appearing in the rival chapel waseffectually quashed. When we came out, we looked at one another andburst out laughing. It was one more evidence that the American is nomatch for the Filipino in _finesse_. 

Naturally, unless one falls in with the Filipino devotion to dancing, there are few sources of so-called amusement in provincial life. TheAmerican women visit each other and give dinners, which, to themen who live in helpless subjection to an ignorant native cook, areless a social than a gastronomic joy. If we are near the seashore, wemake up picnics on the beach, swim, dig clams, and cook supper over afire of driftwood. If thirst overtakes us, we send a native up a treefor green cocoanuts. He cuts a lip-shaped hole in the shell with twostrokes of his bolo, and there is water, crystal clear and fresh. Themen hunt snipe and wild ducks, and sometimes wild pigs and deer. 

In default of travelling theatrical companies, the provincial nativeshave their own organizations of local talent and present littleplays in either Spanish or the native tongue. If American troops arestationed near a town, there will be one or two minstrel shows eachyear. The Filipinos all go to these, but they don't understand themvery well and are not edified. I think they imagine that the cakewalk is a national dance with us, and that the President of the UnitedStates leads out some important lady for this at inaugural balls. 

Once in a while a travelling cinematograph outfit roams through theprovinces, and then for a tariff of twenty-five cents Mexican we throngthe little theatre night after night. I remember once a company of"barn-stormers" from Australia were stranded in Iloilo. They had amoving picture outfit, and a young lady attired in a pink _costume deballet_ stood plaintively at one side and sang, plaintively and verynasally, a long account of the courting of some youthful Georgiacouple. The lovers embraced each other tenderly (as per view) inan interior that had a "throw" over every picture corner, table, and chair back. Some huge American soldier down in the pit said, "That's the real thing; no doubt about it, " but whether his wordshad reference to the love-making or the room we could not tell. 

The song went on, the lovers married and went North; but after awhilethe bride grew heartsick for the old home, so "We journeyed South aspell. " With this line the moving picture flung at us, head on, a greatpassenger locomotive and its trailing cars. To the right there werea country road, meadows, some distant hills, a stake and rider fence, and a farmhouse. The scene was homely, simple, typically American, andrustic, and it sent every drop of loyal American blood tingling. Thetears rushed to my eyes, and I couldn't forbear joining in the roar ofapprobation that went up from the American contingent. An Englishmanwho was with our party insisted that I opened my arms a yard and ahalf to give strength to my applause. I said I didn't regret it. Wepoor expatriated wanderers had been drifting about for months with noother emotion than homesickness, but we had a lively one then. TheFilipino audience at first sat amazed at the outburst; but theirsympathies are quick and keen, and in an instant they realized whatit meant to the exiles, and the wave of feeling swept into themtoo. The young lady in the pink costume grew perceptibly exalted, and in the effort to be more pathetic achieved a degree of nasalintonation which, combined with her Australian accent, made her unique. 

The poorer natives have one source of enjoyment in a sort of open-airplay which they call _colloquio_. This is always in the hands of localtalent, and is probably of Spanish mediæval origin. The three actorsare a captive princess, a villain, and a true knight. The villain isnearly always masked, and sometimes the princess and knight are maskedalso. The costuming is European. The performance may take place in ahouse if anybody is kind enough to offer one, but more frequently thestreet is the scene. A ring is marked off, and the captive princessstands in the middle, while knight and villain circle about her withtheir wooden swords, countering, and apparently making up verses anddialogue as they go along. When they get tired, the princess tells hersorrowful tale. The people will stand for hours about a performanceof this sort, and for weeks afterwards the children will repeat itin their play. 

Once a _circo_, or group of acrobats, came to Capiz and played for overa month to crowded houses. The low-class people and Chinese throngedthe nipa shack of the theatre night after night from nine P. M. Tilltwo A. M. When a Filipino goes to the theatre, he expects to get hismoney's worth. I myself did not attend the circo, but judging fromwhat I saw the children attempt to repeat, and one other incident, I fancy it was quite educative. 

The other incident has to do with my henchman, Basilio, previouslymentioned, who later arrived at the dignity of public schooljanitor. Basilio had been a regular patron of the circo, so much sothat he came into my debt. One of the first things we had set ourselvesto do was the clearing up of all school grounds and premises by pupillabor. Exactly in the middle of the back yard of the Provincial Schoolwas a great dovecot, which spoiled the lawn for grass tennis courts. Soour industrial teacher decided to move the dovecot bodily to anotherplace. I doubted if it could be accomplished without somebody's gettinghurt, and Basilio, without offering any reason, vociferously echoed mysentiments, and jeered openly at the idea of the industrial teacher'sgetting that dovecot safe and sound to the other end of the yard. 

I refused to risk the Provincial School boys on the task, sothe teacher borrowed a file of prisoners from the Provincialjail. Basilio the incredulous was ordered to be on hand and to makehimself useful. He appeared in a pair of white duck trousers, the giftprobably of some departing American, and somebody's discarded bathingshirt in cherry and black stripes. He had cut off the trousers legs atthe thighs, and, with bare arms and legs glistening, was as imposingan acrobat as one could wish to see. 

I had long wanted a swing put up in a great fire-tree which stood nearthe dovecot, and while the prisoners were loosening the earth aboutthe four supporting posts, I sent Basilio to put it up. He finishedhis work just as the prisoners were ready to heave up on the posts, and, to express his entire glee in what was shortly to occur, he camedown the rope _à la circo_, and landed himself with a ballet dancer'spirouette, kissing both hands toward the tugging men. Anything moregraceful and more comical than Basilio's antics, I have never seen. 

The dovecot was supported, as I said, by four great posts sunk inthe ground. On top of these was a platform, and on the platformrested the house. The American teacher had assumed that the platformwas securely fastened to the posts and that the house was nailed tothe platform. This was his great mistake. He had not been over verylong, and he couldn't make allowance for the Filipino aversion forunnecessary labor. The dovecot would hold firm by its own weight, andthe builders had not seen the necessity of wasting nails and strength. 

Basilio with outstretched arms continued to stand on his toeswhile the prisoners grunted over the posts, which came up withdifficulty. They were shamelessly lazy and indifferent to the commandsof the industrial teacher, who had, however, the sagacity to get out ofrange himself. They lifted unevenly, there was a tipping, a sliding, and a smash, as by one impulse the prisoners jumped aside and lethouse, platform, and posts come thundering to the ground. Feathersdrifted about like snow; there were wild flutterings of doves; andsquabs and eggs spattered the lawn. 

When I saw that nobody was hurt, I joined in the cackles of theprisoners, who were doubled up with joy at the discomfiture of theAmerican teacher. He was in a blind rage, which was not diminished bythe outcries and lamentations of the Governor and a horde of clerks, who swarmed out to express their grief over the wanton destructionof a landmark. Privately, I don't believe they cared a rap, but theopportunity to reproach an American for bad judgment comes so seldomto the Filipinos that they refuse to let it escape. 

Basilio never moved a muscle when the crash came. He had stoodbuoyantly expectant; he received it flamboyantly calm. A smileof ineffable pleasure then seized upon his features, and with thebreaking forth of the chorus he rose to joyous action. He spun on hisheels like a dervish. He threw handsprings, he walked on his hands, he exhausted, in short, all that he had been able to acquire in theabandon of the previous weeks; and then gravely righting himself, he went over and began to pick up squabs. These he offered to theAmerican with a perfectly wooden countenance, and with the simplestatement that they were very good eating. He acted as if he thoughtthe teacher had done it all for that purpose. 

CHAPTER XXII

Children's Games--The Conquest of Fires

Children's Games--How Moonlight Nights Are Enjoyed--The Popularityof Baseball Among the Filipinos--My Domestics Play the Game--TheDifficulty of Putting Out Fires--Need of Water-Storage for the DrySeason--Apathy of the Public at Fires--Examples Showing the Loyaltyand Devotion of Servants When Fires Occur. 

Filipino children are not so active as the children of our own race, and their games incline to the sedentary order. Like their elders, they gamble; and like all children, the world over, they have acertain routine in which games succeed one another. At one seasonin the year the youngsters are absorbed in what must be a secondcousin to "craps. " Every child has some sort of tin can filled withsmall spotted seashells. They throw these like dice; they slap theirhands together with the raking gesture of the crap-player, and utterejaculations in which numeral adjectives predominate, and which mustbe similar to "lucky six" and kindred expressions. 

Following the crap game there is usually a season of devotion to akind of solitaire which is played with shells on a circular board, scooped out into a series of little cup-like depressions. They willamuse themselves with this for hours at a time. The shells are movedfrom cup to cup, and other shells are thrown like dice to determinehow the shells are to progress. 

The commonest form of child gambling, however, is that of pitchingcoppers on the head and tail plan. You may see twenty or more gamesof this sort at any time around a primary school. Sometimes the gameends in a fight. Sometimes the biggest urchin gathers up everythingin sight and escapes on the ringing of the bell, leaving his howlingvictims behind. 

Not unnaturally, in consideration of the heat, there is comparativelylittle enthusiasm for rough sport. The only very active play in whichlittle boys and girls engage, is leap frog, which differs slightlyfrom the game in our own country. 

Two children sit upon the ground and clasp their right hands. A leaderstarts out, clears this barrier, and all the rest of the playersfollow. Then one of the sitting children clasps his unoccupied lefthand upon the upraised thumb of his companion, thus raising the heightof the barrier by the width of the palm. The line starts again andall jump this. Then the second sitter adds his palm and thumb to thebarrier, and the line of players attack this. It is more than likelythat some one will fail to clear this last barrier, and the one whodoes so squats down, pressing close to the other two, and puts in hisgrimy little paw and thumb. So they continue to raise the height ofthe barrier till, at last, nobody can jump it. 

When they play _drop the handkerchief_, Filipino children squatupon their heels in a circle instead of standing. They have also thefamiliar "_King William was King James's Son_"; I do not know whetherthe words in the vernacular which they use are the equivalent of oursor not. The air, at least, is the one with which we are all familiar. 

They have one more game which seems to be something like our_hop-scotch_ but more complicated. The diagram, which is roughlyscratched out on the ground, is quite an extensive one. The player isblindfolded, and hops about, kicking at his bit of stone and placing itin accordance with some mysterious rule which I have vainly sought toacquire. The children play this in the cool, long-shadowed afternoons, when they have returned from school, have doffed their white canvasshoes and short socks, and have reverted to the single slip of thecountry. 

There is a local game of football which is played with a hollow ballor basket of twisted rattan fibres. The players stand in a ring, andwhen the ball approaches one, he swings on one heel till his back isturned, and, glancing over his shoulder, gives it a queer backwardkick with the heel of his unoccupied foot. It requires some art todo this, yet the ball will be kept sometimes in motion for two orthree minutes without once falling to the ground. 

On moonlight nights the Filipinos make the best of their beautifulworld. The aristocrats stroll about in groups of twenty, or eventhirty, the young people snatching at the opportunity to slip intoprivate conversation and enjoy a little _solitude à deux_ while theirelders are engrossed in more serious topics. The common people enjoya wholesome romp in a game which seems to be a combination of "tag"and "prisoner's base. " Groups of serenaders stroll about with guitarsand mandolins, and altogether a most sweet and wholesome domesticitypervades the village. 

At present the nearest real bond between American and Filipinois baseball--"playball" the Filipinos call it, having learned toassociate these words with it from the enthusiastic shouts of Americanonlookers. Baseball has taken firm hold, and is here to stay. In Manilaevery plot of green is given over to its devotees. Every secondaryschool in the country has its nine and its school colors and yell, and the pupils go out and "root" as enthusiastically as did everfreshmen of old Yale or Harvard. No Fourth of July can pass withoutits baseball game. 

We had a good baseball team at Capiz as early as 1903, and playedmatches with school teams from neighboring towns. I did not realize, however, how popular the game had become until one warm afternoon, when I was vainly trying to get a nap. 

The noise under my window was deafening. Thuds, shrieks, a babble ofnative words, and familiar English terms floated in and disturbed myrest. Finally I got up and went to the window. 

The street was not over twenty-five feet wide, the houses, afternative custom, being flush with the gutter. In this narrow space myservants had started a game of ball. They had the diamond all markedout, and one player on each base. There was Ceferiana, the cook, a maid of seventeen, with her hair twisted into a Sappho knot at theback with one wisp hanging out like a horse's tail. Her petticoat waswrapped tightly around her slim body and its back fulness tucked in atthe waist. She was barefooted, and her toes, wide apart as they alwaysare when shoes have never been worn, worked with excitement. There wasManuel, who skated the floors, an anæmic youth of fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a pair of dirty white underdrawers with the ankle stringsdragging, and in an orange and black knit undershirt. There wasRosario, the little maid who waited on me and went to school. She wasthird base and umpire. A neighbor's boy, about eight years old, wasfirst base. Manuel was second base and pitcher combined. Ceferianawas at the bat, while behind her her youngest brother--he whoseengaging smile occupied so much of my attention at the funeral ofthe lavandero aforementioned--was spread out in the attitude of aprofessional catcher. His plump, rounded little legs were stretchedso far apart that he could with difficulty retain his balance. Hescowled, smacked his lips, and at intervals thumped the back of hispudgy, clenched fist into the hollowed palm of the other hand withthe gesture of a man who wears the catcher's mitt. Had a professionalbaseball team from the States ever caught sight of that baby, theywould have secured him as a mascot at any price. 

The ball was one of those huge green oranges which the English callpomeloes, about twice the size of an American grape-fruit. Being green, and having a skin an inch thick; it withstood the resounding thwacksof the bat quite remarkably. It was fortunate that the diamond was sosmall, for it would have taken more strength than any of the playerspossessed to send that plaything any distance. Catching it was only theart of embracing. It had to be guided and hugged to the breast, for itwas too big to hold in the hands. The valorous catcher, in spite of hisfiercely professional air, invariably dodged it and then pursued it. 

The bat was a board about eight inches wide, wrenched from thelid of a Batoum oil case and roughly cut down at one end for ahandle. With the size of the ball, and the width of the bat, missingwas an impossibility. It was only a question of how far the strengthof the batter could send the ball. When it was struck, everybody ranto the next base, and seemed to feel if he got there before the ballhit ground, he had scored something. 

Rosario, as I said, was both third base and umpire (after a run theyalways reverted to their original positions). Her voice rang out ina symphony like this: "Wan stri'! Wan ball! Fou' ball! Ilapog! ilapogsa acon! Hindi! Ilapog sa firs' base! Fou' ball. "

At times when somebody on a base made a feint of stealing a run(for they were acting out everything as they had seen it done atthe last public match), Manuel threatened all points of the compasswith his four-inch projectile, and again the voice of Rosario soared, "Ilapog--Ilapog sa firs' base--Hindi! sa Ceferiana! ah (ow-ut)!" whilean enthusiastic onlooker who had set down a bamboo pipe filled with_tuba dulce_ (the unfermented sap of the nipa palm or the cocoanuttree) added his lungs to the uproar in probably the only two Englishwords he knew--"Play ball! play ball!"

Thus are the beginnings of great movements in small things. Thosechildren got more real Americanism out of that corrupted ball gamethan they did from singing "My Country, 'tis of Thee" every morning. 

From a baseball game to a fire is a far cry, but fire in thePhilippines has such distinctive features that I cannot pass itwithout a word. The lack of all facilities for combating it makes itan ever present menace. The combustible materials of which houses arebuilt, and their close crowding together, tend to spread it rapidly;while the thatched roofs make even the burning of an isolated housea danger to the entire community. 

Manila has an up-to-date American fire department, but even there, with water mains and a signal-box system for alarms, a fire oncestarted in a nipa district in the dry season can seldom be checkeduntil the neighborhood is clean swept. In the provinces, where thereis not so much as a bucket brigade, the first alarm sends everybody'sheart into his mouth. 

The chief trouble is the lack of water for putting out a fire in itsincipiency. Never was there a land in which water was more abundant ormore scarce than it is in the Philippines. For five months of everyyear the skies let down a deluge, but nothing appreciable of all thedownfall is saved. The rich--the haughty, ostentatious rich--havegreat masonry tanks walled up at the ends of their houses, capableof holding two or three thousand gallons of water. With the contentsof these tanks the rich people supply themselves with drinking waterduring the dry season, and net a considerable income from its sale totheir less fortunate neighbors. The merely well-to-do people contentthemselves with a galvanized iron tank, which may store from twoto six hundred gallons, which is seldom enough to last out the dryseason. In this case they buy water from the mountaineers, who filltheir _tinajas_, or twenty-gallon earthenware jars, with water frommountain springs, and bring them to the nearest towns in bancas. 

The poor people have no way whatever of storing rain-water, andeither beg a few quarts each day from the rich people to whom theyare feudally attached, or else they fall back upon the ground wells, or _pozos_, which, even they know, breed fevers and dysentery. 

By no means every house has its well. Sometimes there are only twoor three to a block. Sometimes the well is merely a shallow hole, uncemented, to catch the seepage of the upper strata. Sometimes it isa very deep stone-walled cavity. Rarely is there a pump or a windlassor any other fixed aid for raising the water. 

When a fire starts, therefore, with such an inadequate water supply, nothing can be done except to tear down communicating houses orroofs. Enterprising natives who live even at a considerable distance, usually mount their ridge-poles and wet down their roofs if they canget the water with which to do it. 

In the immediate vicinity of the fire itself tumult reigns. Filipinowomankind, who are so alluringly feminine, are also femininely helplessin a crisis, and if there be no men around to direct and sustain them, often lose their heads entirely. They give way to lamentations, gather up their babies, and flee to the homes of their nearestrelatives. Often they forget even their jewels and ready money, which are locked in a wardrobe. 

Meanwhile, if there be men folks about, they make a more systematiceffort to save things, and as all relatives and connections who areout of danger themselves rush in at the first alarm, quite a littlemay be rescued. The things which are traditional with us as showinghow people lose their heads at a fire are just as evident here asin our own land. They throw dishes, glassware, and fine furnitureout of the windows, and carry down iron pots and pillows. The poorgather their little store of clothing in sheets, release the tetheredgoats, puppies, game-cocks, and monkeys, which are always abundantabout their shacks, and toddle off with their doll trunks in theirarms. The sight is a pitiful one, especially when the old and decrepit, of which almost every house yields up one or more, are carried out inhammocks or chairs. Yet in a few hours all will have found shelterwith friends, and probably the suffering consequent upon a fire isless than in our own country, where people have more to lose andwhere the rigor of climate is a factor not to be overlooked. 

There is very little use in combating fire under such circumstances, and perhaps long experience has contributed to the apathy withwhich such disasters are treated. The American constabulary andmilitary officials generally turn out their men, and lend every effortthemselves to quell the flames. Here and there individual Filipinos, such as governors or presidentes, who feel the pressure of officialresponsibility, display considerable activity; but, on the whole, the aristocratic, or governing, class rather demonstrates its weaknessat such times. The men whose property is not threatened seldom exertthemselves, but stand in groups and chatter about how this could bedone or that. Everybody is full of suggestions for somebody else toexecute, but nobody does anything. The municipal police nose about inthe crowd, and at intervals seize upon some obscure and inoffensivecitizen, propelling him violently in the direction of the conflagrationwith orders to "work. " He half-heartedly picks up an old five-gallonpetroleum can or a bamboo water-pipe, and starts off to the nearestwell, but as soon as he is out of range of the policeman's eye hedrops the article, shuffles back into the gazing crowd, and does nomore work. 

At such time the loyalty and devotion of servants are put to a severetest. Two incidents came under my notice which it is a pleasure todescribe. During my third year at Capiz our own home (I was "messing"with another American woman teacher) was threatened by fire onenight, and all our household goods were carried out and saved byAmerican men. The house was on fire more than once, but they managedto extinguish the fire each time. 

Mention has previously been made of my little maid, Ceferiana. Atthe first alarm that night, she rushed into my room, and, spreadingout a sheet, began to throw clothes into it from my drawers andwardrobe. When she had gathered up a full bundle, she rushed off toa place of safety, deposited it and came back for more. Meanwhile Ihad gathered up some silver and other valuables, and locked them in atrunk. Ceferiana helped me to carry this out, and as we were returning, the sweep of the flames seemed to be almost engulfing our house. Forthe first time Ceferiana gave a thought to her own possessions. Witha wail--"Ah, Dios mio, mi ropa!" ("Oh, my God! my clothes!")--shesank down on her knees, beating her breast, and bewailing the lossof a wardrobe made up chiefly from my cast-off garments, but eventhen far richer than that of most girls of her class. 

About this time the American men began to arrive on the scene, and though they would not permit us to return to the house, theychivalrously rescued Ceferiana's possessions as well as mine. 

The lady who lived with me had some time before discharged a servantfor a cause which we others considered not very just. She was timid, and as her husband was away, she was unwilling to permit the servantto leave the premises for even a brief time. Filipino servants simplycannot be handled in that way. A certain amount of time for recreationand pleasure is their just due, and they will have it. Adolphus, robbed of his _paseo_, reported that his grandmother was dying, anddemanded an evening off to visit her. His mistress happened to take awalk that evening and beheld Adolphus the perfidious, not sitting by adying grandmother, but tripping the light fantastic in a nipa shack, eight by twelve. She forthwith discharged Adolphus, and even leviedon the services of a friendly constabulary officer to thrash himwith a _stingaree_, or sting ray cane. Adolphus retaliated by forgingher husband's name to some chits for liquors. She had him arrested, prosecuted, and jailed. He had just finished his sentence when thefire came. He was almost the first person to appear, and worked likea Trojan for two hours, his services being of no mean value. I thinkthe reader will agree with me that Adolphus showed a Christian andforgiving spirit. 

The End

NOTE

[1] Since the writing of the above sentence, one American woman hasbeen murdered in Batangas, one young girl violated in Manila, andknowledge has come to the writer of three cases of attempted assaulton American women, which were kept out of the newspapers.