The animal that is most essential in every way is the carabao or water buffalo. They are expensive, a good one costing two or three hundred dollars. Their number has been very much diminished by the rinder-pest. The precious carabao is carefully guarded; at night it is kept in the lower part of the house or in a little pond close by.

The picture shown opposite is a good representation of the better class of fairly well-to-do Filipino people; they are rich if they can afford as many carabao as stand here. The second picture shows the way they are driven. Their skins are used for everything that good strong leather can be used for. Their meat is good for food; but heaven help anybody who is obliged to eat it, and when it is prepared, as it often is, by drying the steaks in the sun, then the toughness exceeds that of the tanned hide. A sausage mill could not chew dried carabao. The milk is watery and poor, but the natives like it very much. The horns are used for handles for bolos, the hoofs for glue, and the bones are turned into carved articles of many kinds. The little calves that go wandering about by the sides of their mothers are so curious and so top heavy, and yet they are strong even when small. Carabao sometimes go crazy, and when they do, they tread down everything in their way. Notwithstanding their ungainly bulk they can run as well as a good horse, and can endure long journeys quite as well. They are urged to greater speed by the driver taking the tail and giving it a twist or kicking them in the flank.

I used to spend most of my time threatening my driver that he would have to go to a calaboose if he did not stop abusing the animal. The horses are only caricatures. They are so small, so poorly kept, and so badly driven that one burns with indignation at the sight of them. There is no bit and the bridle is always bad. The nose piece is fitted tight and has on the under side a bit of horny fish skin, its spikes turned towards the flesh. These are jerked into the flesh of the poor horse until, in its frenzy, it dashes madly from one side of the road to the other.

Cows are of little use. They look fair but they give little milk. Goats are next in importance, and are delightful to watch. The kids, in pairs and triplets, are such pretty little creatures, so perfectly formed, that I could scarcely resist the desire to bring a few home.

The dogs are the worst looking creatures imaginable. They are so maimed that they are pests rather than pets; but there are thousands of them. There was one exception, a dog that was brought to me one day from a burning house, the like of which I had never seen before. It was called an Andalusian poodle. It proved to be not only the handsomest but the best little dog I ever had. Being a lover of dogs, I regretted very much to give him up upon my return.