The manner of wooing is rather peculiar. The man who wishes to pay his addresses to a woman gets the consent of her father and mother. He is received by the entire family when he calls, but is never allowed, in any way, to show her any special favor or attention; he must devote himself to the entire family. If he wishes to take her to a theatre, or concert, or dance, he must take the entire family. For about a week before the marriage the bride elect is carried about in a sort of wicker bamboo hammock borne on the shoulders of two young men and she goes about paying visits to her intimate friends; she is not allowed to put foot to the ground or do any sort of menial labor.

Mothers brought their young daughters to me daily to importune me to choose a sweetheart for my son or for any other officer who happened to be at our headquarters. I know that one young officer was offered $100,000 to marry the daughter of one of the richest men in the town of Molo, and it was a great wonder to the father that the young man could refuse so brilliant a match socially, to say nothing of it financially. There happened to be a young Englishman in the regular service whose time expired while he was at Jaro. He had been cook and valet for an officer’s mess and was really a very fine fellow. He was immediately chosen by a wealthy Filipino to marry his daughter. The young man not only got a wife but a very handsome plantation of sugar and rice; perhaps not the only foreign husband secured by a good dowry.

The trousseau of a rich Filipino girl consists of dozens and dozens of rich dresses; no other article is of interest. They do not need the lingerie. Among the common people it is simply an arrangement between the mother and the groom or it can all be arranged with the priest. I have seen as many as fifteen young girls sitting in the market place while their mothers told of their various good qualities. Marriage is not a question of affection, seemingly. The only thing necessary is money enough to pay the priest. Very often all rites are set aside; the man chooses his companion, the two live together and probably rear a large family.

I was told that there are two sets of commandments in use—one for the rich, the other for the poor.

I was glad to accept the kind invitation of a rich and influential family to their daughter’s wedding. At the proper hour, I presented myself at the church door and was politely escorted to a seat. There was music. The natives came dressed in their best, and squatted upon the floor of the cathedral. After a long time the bride elect sauntered in with three or four of her attendants not especially attired, nor did they march in to music but visited along the way as they came straggling in. Soon the groom shuffled in, I say shuffled because they have so recently begun to wear shoes. The bridal group gathered before the altar and listened to the ritual. Finally the groom took the bride’s hand for one brief moment. A few more words by the priest and the ceremony was ended. To my surprise the bride came up and greeted me. I did not understand what I was expected to do but I shook hands and said I hoped she would be very happy. The groom now came up and bowing low presented his “felicitations.” I returned the bow but could not muster a word. The women straggled out on one side of the cathedral and the men on the other. This was considered a first class “matrimony.” There was a very large reception at the house with a grand ball in the evening; indeed, there were two or three days of festivities.

In contrast to this was the wholesale matrimonial bureau which was conducted every Saturday morning. I have seen as many as ten couples married all at once. I never knew which man was married to which woman, as the men stood grouped on one side of the priest and the women on the other. I asked one groom, “Which is your wife?” He scanned the crowd of brides a moment then said comfortably, “Oh, she is around somewhere.”

I used to go to the cathedral on Saturdays to see the various ceremonies. The most interesting of all the cheap baptisms at which all the little babies born during the week were baptized for ten cents. These pitiable little creatures, deformed and shrunken, were too weak to wail, or, perhaps they were too stupified with narcotics. A large candle was put into each little bird-claw, the nurse or mother holding it in place above the passive body covered only with a scrap of gauze but decked out with paper flowers, huge pieces of jewelry, odd trinkets, anything they had—all dirty, mother, child, ornaments; the onlookers still more dirty. The priest whom I knew very well, since he lived just across the way, told me that few of these cheap babies live long. I am sure they could not; not one of them would weigh five pounds. They were all emaciated; death would be a mercy. There was a little fellow next door to whom I was very much attached. The dear little naked child would stay with me by the day if I would have him; he was four years old but no larger than an American baby of four months. I used to long for a rocking chair that I might sing him to sleep but he had no idea of sleeping when he was with me. His great brown eyes would look into my face with an intensity of love; he would gaze at me till I feared that he was something uncanny. If I gave him a lump of sugar, he would hold it reverently a long time before he would presume to eat it. Every day he and other little devoted natives would bring me bouquets of flowers, stuck on the spikes of a palm or on tooth picks. No well regulated house but has bundles of tooth picks arranged in fancy shapes such as fans and flowers. All their sideboards and tables have huge bouquets of these wonderfully wrought and gayly ornamental tooth picks.

They carve with skill; out of a bit of wood or bamboo they will whittle a book, so pretty as to be worth four or five dollars.

One day I made a woman understand by signs that I should like to weave; she nodded approval and in a little while a loom was brought to the house; we went over to the market, purchased our fiber and began. I found it a difficult task, as I had to sit in a cramped position; and the slippery treadles of round bamboo polished by use were hard to manage. I did better without shoes. The weaving was a diversion; it occupied my time when the soldiers were out of the quarters. I will not deny that yards of the fabric were watered with my tears. There was dangerous and exhausting work for our troops; and there were bad reports that many were mutilated and killed.