The province of Pangasinan consists principally of an extensive plain, or, rather, of a very gradual descent from the mountains where the Igorrote Indians dwell, and extending to those of Zambales. The roads are generally good and have trees planted by their sides, and the lands are rich and fruitful. Many rivers descend from the hills and are used for the conveyance of timber, rattans, and other forest productions. The Igorrotes collect gold in the mountain streams, especially in the neighbourhood of Asingan. Large herds of wild buffaloes, oxen, deer and pigs, are found on the hills, but little attended to by the natives. The fertility of the lands will give a crop of sugar and of rice in the same year. The coast and lakes abound with fish, of which, as of salt, cocoa-nut oil and sugar, there is a considerable exportation. Hides are tanned for the Manila market. Ship-building is an important branch of industry, especially on the Agno River. Multitudes of the women are employed in making straw hats, cigar-cases and other articles, of the fibres of various vegetables, some of great fineness and selling for high prices—a cigar-case is sometimes valued at an ounce of gold. Mats, plain and ornamented, are also manufactured for use and for sale. It is said that the Indian, with no other instrument than his knife for all his domestic needs, and his plough for his field labours, supplies himself with every object of desire. Women are proud of having woven and embroidered the garments worn by their husbands and their children, and they present a gay appearance on days of festivity. In the year 1755 there was a serious insurrection against Spanish rule, and again in the year 1762, when the English took Manila; but both were subdued, though the population was diminished to the extent of 20,000 by these outbreaks. Two distinct idioms are spoken in the province, the aboriginal Pangasinan people being distinct from the races which penetrated from Ilocos. The Dominican friars exercise the principal ecclesiastical authority in the province.

On our leaving Iloilo, after three days’ steaming, and sighting Nasog and the Isla Verde, which had been recommended to us as a preferable course to that of the outer passage by which we had come down, we returned to Manila again to enjoy the hospitalities of the palace of the Governor and the attentions of my friend Colonel Trasierra, in whose hands I had been so kindly placed. We arrived on the Dia de los Reyes (day of the kings), one of formal reception at court. In the evening we took a long ride into the country as far as the province of Bulacan, which is divided from that of Tondo by a handsome stone bridge over a branch of the Pampanga River. The question of going by land to Lingayen, which can in favourable circumstances be accomplished in a day, the distance being thirty leagues, was discussed, but the state of the roads not being satisfactory, and the delay consequently uncertain, I determined again to take ship, and on the second day of our voyage we anchored at Sual. The captain of the port came out to pilot us into the harbour, in the middle of which is a dangerous rock not laid down in many of the charts. The narrowness of the passage requires much precaution, but once anchored, it is a very safe and well-sheltered, though small harbour. The appearance of Sual disappointed us; a few scattered dwellings, the church and the custom-house, did not look very promising. On landing, however, the musicians of the pueblo came to escort us with their band, and we learnt that all the authorities were at Lingayen, a few miles off; but a courier was immediately despatched to announce our arrival, and, as a specimen of the language, I give a copy of the receipt he brought back to show that his mission had been properly fulfilled:—

Meaning, that having started at eight o’clock from San Isidro, the despatch was delivered at eleven o’clock to the alcalde.

Carriages having been provided for our conveyance to the seat of government (Lingayen), we started at early day for the convent at San Isidro, which is on the left bank of the Agno, a fine river, affording great facilities for navigation, and presenting charming points of scenery on its banks, with the beauties of which we amused ourselves until preparations for a procession were seen, and the sound of music was heard from the opposite shore; upon which we embarked, and found our Indian escorts, with comfortable carriages and sprightly horses, and their accustomed display, waiting to receive us, the roads and houses adorned as usual, and everything bearing marks of gaiety and good-will. Tropical fruit-trees are seen all along the line of the road, through which the Indian cabanas prettily peep; the women and children in their gay dress giving a picturesque and varied character to the scene. The windows and platforms before the houses were crowded with spectators, who seemed greatly delighted as from time to time we recognized their courtesies or admired some flag more demonstrative or more decorated than the rest. We entered one or two of the ship-building yards, and our naval officials expressed their satisfaction with the state of naval architecture among the natives. One vessel on the stocks was of 350 tons. An Indian ship-builder, who was introduced to us as being remarkable for mechanical genius, came from some distance to ask permission from Captain Vansittart to visit the Magicienne, and to instruct himself in matters connected with the application of steam-engines to navigation, and to discover any other improvements of which he expected a British ship of war to bear about the evidence. The leave, which was very humbly asked, was very courteously given; on obtaining which the Indian was trotted off in his carriage without losing a moment. The abundance, adjacency, excellence and cheapness of the materials on the banks of the Agno give it great advantages for the construction of vessels, but the bar is a great obstacle against their getting to sea.

We were met on the road by the alcalde mayor, and I entered his carriage. The superior Spanish officials carry a cane with a gold head and a silk tassel as a mark of their authority; and we galloped away to Lingayen, the cabazera of the province. It has a population of 23,000 souls. The roads were good, except in one part where the Agno had made itself a new channel, and there the horses had some difficulty in dragging the carriage through the sand. We came upon the coast, and the waves were dashing with foaming impetuosity, as if tempest-vexed, upon the shore; but joining again the principal causeway, we pursued our journey without interruption. We had been accompanied by the excellent Vice-Consul Don JosÉ de Bosch and Friar Gabriel, who was everywhere our guardian and guide. The vice-consul was thoroughly cognizant of all commercial matters, and furnished me with the information I sought. The friar was delighted to pour out his stores of local knowledge, and they were great, while the alcalde, SeÑor Combas, was in all things kind, considerate and communicative. In fact, it was impossible not to feel at home when everybody was contributing to amuse, interest and instruct. We visited several of the pueblos in the neighbourhood, and at Calasiao, which has 18,000 inhabitants, the gobernadorcillo brought us specimens of the manufactures of the place, and pressed a fine straw hat on my acceptance, while the good Friar Gabriel insisted on every one of our party carrying away a cigar-case. What we had seen elsewhere was repeated in the pueblos through which we passed, in each of which the friars and the principalia were on the qui vive, not only for our comfort and accommodation, but to do us all honour. We returned to Lingayen at sunset, and the good father summoned us to dine with him the following day, on which occasion he said he would do his best to show us what his convent could produce. And certainly nothing was wanting. The tables were crowded with numerous guests, and covered with abundant supplies of substantial and decorative dishes. I imagine the father must have drawn on all the resources of the community, for the meats and drinks, the plate and the porcelain, decanters and glasses, and all the paraphernalia of a handsome public dinner, were there, and there was no small amount of fun and jollity, the padre taking the lead.

Father Gabriel boasted of the immense capabilities of the river Agno. It flows through a large portion of the province of Pangasinan, and was navigable for a great distance in its wanderings. He sketched its course upon paper, and pointed out the many pueblos which it visited. The misfortune was, it had a terrible bar, and could not be navigated from or into the sea. The river is certainly one of considerable depth, and of great beauty, having its source in the Cordillera of Caraballes in the province of Abra, amidst wild mountains, and receiving, in its flowing course, many confluent streams. Between San Isidro and Lingayen there was much ship-building on its banks, and a busy Indian population. On the shores were fine forest trees ready for the hand of the woodman, materials for cordage, bamboos and canes, which are brought down by the wild tribes of Igorrotes. It is said that much gold is found in the sand and mud of the river. Many attempts have been made by the Spaniards, and especially by the friars, to conquer, civilize and christianize the wild tenants of the rough and craggy regions, but with little success. Their numbers are increased by criminals escaping from justice, and who seek and find refuge in the least accessible parts of Luzon.

Father Gabriel, who has greatly interested himself in developing the commercial resources of Sual, which he called his “port,” expressed a confident expectation that the establishment of foreign trade and the visits of shipping for cargoes, would induce the natives to bring down their produce and open the way to the influences of improvement.

We found it necessary to prepare for our departure, but our good friends had determined, as we had come by land, we should return by water, and an aquatic procession, with flags and music, was put in motion. The sky lowered, the rain fell in tropical torrents, and the musicians and other actors and spectators dispersed; nothing discouraged, however, after a delay of two hours, sunshine brought them out again. The boats were put in requisition, the bands of music reassembled, and we embarked on the river Agno. All went on pleasantly and perfectly for an hour, when a drenching storm compelled me to leave the open barge in which I was, and to seek the shelter of one of the covered boats. Many of our companions were as thoroughly wetted as if they had been dragged through the water, and we reached San Isidro as if escaped from wreck. There we sought dry garments, and the friars’ wardrobes were largely drawn on for our comforts. Grotesque, indeed, were the figures and drapery of many, and a humorous sketcher might have made excellent capital out of the laughing groups. Some got carriages, some horses, and some disappointment, to help us to Sual, where a handsome dinner was provided at the custom-house by the vice-consul. The harbour-master broke out into poetry in honour of the British flag, and gloria and Victoria rhymed in to the delectation of the guests, and to the echoes of the walls. Our captain was inspired, and harangued our hospitable hosts in answer to the warm brindis of the company. The Indians had been studying our national song, and for the first time the noble air of “God save the Queen” was heard in the pueblo of Sual. It was late when we got on board the Magicienne, but before our departure on the following day, the authorities, the vice-consul and the friar, with many attendants, were on board to give us a despedida as kind as our welcome had been cordial. They brought various presents as souvenirs, and a lilliputian midshipman, who had excited the interest and admiration of the visitors, was specially summoned that he might receive a cigar-case from the hands of Padre Gabriel. As soon as they left, our anchor was raised and we steamed away from Pangasinan and the Philippines. It would be strange, indeed, if we took not with us a grateful memory of what we had seen.