The houses are made of bamboo; some of them are pretty, quite artistic; the plain ones cost about seventy-five cents each; no furniture of any kind is needed. The native food is rice, or, as it is called in the vernacular, “Sow-sow.” It is cooked in an earthen pot set upon stones with a few lighted twigs thrust under it for fire. When it is eaten with nature’s forks—the fingers—with a relish of raw fish, it is the chief article of diet.

House-cleaning is one thing that I never saw in practice or evidence. I took a supply of lye with me and it was a huge joke to see the natives use it in cleaning the floors.

The windows are made of oyster shells which are thin and flat; these cut in three-inch squares make a window peculiarly adapted to withstand the heavy storms and earthquakes; it transmits a pleasant opalescent light.

Coffee is raised, but not widely used by the natives; they prefer chocolate.

After many unsuccessful attempts, I gave up trying to have my dishes washed in my way; I soon discovered that the servants used the tea towels on their bodies. This convinced me, and I let them wash mine as they did their own, by pouring water on each dish separately, rinsing and setting to dry on the porch in the sun, the only place where the vermin would not crawl over them.

The irons used for pressing clothes are like a smooth, round-bottomed skillet, the inside is filled with lighted sticks and embers. The operator, who sits on the floor, passes this smoking mass over the thing to be pressed. The article, when finished, looks as if it had been sat upon.

One Palm Sunday I visited five different churches in all of which were palms in profusion, woven into almost innumerable forms; fishes, birds in and out of cages, trees, fruits, flowers, crosses, crowns, sceptres, mitres, and saints’ emblems. The cathedral at Arevalo looked like a huge garden, but, in one second after it had been discovered that a white woman and an American officer were present, the entire congregation, rising, turned to look at us; it seemed as if a whirlwind were sweeping the palms, so nervous were the hands that held them.

After the service, the crowd came out and vanished immediately, fear of an attack having overcome their curiosity.

Nearly all the little children are naked. One day I saw a little fellow about three years old who was suffering severely with the smallpox. He was smoking a huge cigar of the kind the natives make by rolling the natural tobacco leaf and tying it with a bit of bamboo fibre. He did look ridiculous. A native teacher told me that they all begin to smoke when about two years old; poor, little, stunted, starved things, fed on half cooked rice and raw fish.

Drunkenness is comparatively rare among the natives; the intoxicating beverage is the “Tuba,” which is made about as follows: The flowers of the cocoanut are cut while still in bud and the sap, or “Beno,” caught in a tube of bamboo; the liquor is gathered daily as we gather maple sap and fermented by the addition of a piece of wood, which also imparts a slight color. The product of this fermentation is an insidious stimulant. I never tasted it, but one poor soldier told me his sad experience and that sufficed. After a particularly hard march, his company came to a halt in a village; he asked for water, but could get only this innocent looking “Beno;” he took one tiny glass; it tasted like cologne water; his thirst not being quenched, he took a second and a third glass, after which he proceeded to make a howling mob of himself. This, since it happened in the face of the enemy, with momentary expectation of attack, was a serious offence enough, but coupled with the fact that he was “on guard” at the time, entailed punishments, the rigor of which, can be guessed only by those familiar with army discipline.

Once a party of officers and men were going from one island to another, carrying money and food for the soldiers. It was found, after starting, that they were not so heavily guarded as they should be, in view of the fact that they would be exposed to attack when in the narrow channels between the islands. At one point where they were hemmed in, not only by the islands, but by a number of sailing crafts, the Captain, a Filipino, very seriously asked the Paymaster if he had plenty of fire arms; his reply was, “Oh, muchee fusile,” meaning, “Oh, very much fire arms.” To add to the horror of the situation they were becalmed. The Captain became very much alarmed and the soldiers more so. Strange to relate, there came a gale of wind that not only blew them out into a wider channel beyond the reach of their insurrecto friends, but put them well on their way. This was told me as being almost like a miracle. No one can ever realize until they have been caught in one of these terrific gales what their severity is. I remember one blast that tore my hair down and swept away every article of loose clothing, also some things that I had just purchased; I never saw them again. It would not occur to the natives to return anything that they found, even if they knew that they never could use it; they all professed friendship to my face, and were constantly begging for any little article that I might have, but they never returned anything they saw me drop or that had been blown away.

We had, at one time, a peace society formed, there was an attendance of all the women of Jaro, some from Iloilo, and the President was chosen from Molo. I took pleasure in joining this society for the maintenance of peace and fraternal feeling with the Filipinos.

One day I thought it my duty to call upon the President of the new peace commission. She lived in the town of Molo. I invited a native woman to accompany me, and secured a guard of soldiers and an interpreter. Such a commotion as the visit created. The interpreter explained that I had called to pay my respects, as I was the only American woman who had joined the peace society. The President was pale with fright at my coming, though I had with me a woman whom she knew very well. After she had recovered from the shock, we had a very agreeable time. She called in some of her family; one daughter played well on the piano, a large grand, and another played upon the violin. In the meantime refreshments were served in lavish profusion. They offered me very handsome cloths and embroideries, which I declined with thanks. It is a common custom to make presents.

I had agreed with this Filipino friend to exchange views on points of etiquette and social manners. She told me that I had committed quite a breach of propriety in allowing the interpreter, who was a soldier, to ride on the front seat of the carriage; that it would become known everywhere that she and I actually had a man ride with us. It is not customary for even husbands and wives to drive together. My criticism was, “We do not like the manner of your ladies expectorating. In America we consider it a very filthy and offensive habit.” She was quite surprised that we were so very particular and asked me if we chewed the spittle.

A large cathedral was situated just across the street, a circumstance that enabled me to witness many ceremonies of the Roman church, of whose existence I had no previous knowledge; daily services were held, and all the Saints’ days were observed. On festivals of especial importance there were very gorgeous processions. The principal features were the bands of music, the choir, acolytes, priests, and rich people,—the poor have no place—all arrayed in purple and fine linen; gold, silver, pearls, and rare jewels sparkled in the sun by day, or, at night, in the light of the candles and torches carried by thousands of men, women and children.

It was a trying experience to be awakened from sound sleep by the firing of guns. It was necessary to be always armed and ready to receive the “peaceful people.” (We read daily in the American papers that all danger was over.)

A characteristic feature of each town is a plaza at its center, and here the people have shrines or places of worship at the corners, the wealthier people, only, having them in their homes.

Smallpox is a disease of such common occurrence that the natives have no dread of it; the mortality from this one cause alone is appalling. This brings to mind the funeral ceremony, which, since the natives are all Catholics, is always performed by the padre or priest.

In red, pink, or otherwise gayly decorated coffin, the corpse, which is often exposed to view and sometimes covered with cheap paper flowers, bits of lace and jewelry, is taken to the church, where there are already as many as five or six bodies at a time awaiting the arrival of the priest to say prayers and sprinkle holy water upon them. If the family of the deceased is too poor to buy or rent a coffin, the body is wrapped in a coarse mat, slung on a pole, and carried to the outer door of the church, to have a little water sprinkled thereon or service said over it. If the families are unable to rent a spot of earth in the cemetery, their dead are dumped into a pile and left to decay and bleach upon the surface. In contrast with this brutal neglect of the poor, is the lavish expenditure of the rich. The daughter of one of the wealthy residents having died, the body was placed in a casket elaborately trimmed with blue satin, the catafalque also was covered with blue satin and trimmed with ruffles of satin and lace. In the funeral procession, the coffin was carried on the shoulders of several young men, while at the sides walked young ladies, each dressed in a blue satin gown with a long train and white veil, and each lavishly decorated with precious jewels. They held long, blue satin ribbons fastened to the casket. At the door of the church the casket was taken in charge by three priests, attended by thirty or forty choir boys, acolytes, and others, and placed upon a black pedestal about thirty feet high and completely surrounded by hundreds of candles, many of which were held in gilded figures of cherubim; the whole was surmounted by a flambeau made by immersing cotton in alcohol. The general effect was of a huge burning pile. Incense was burned every where in and about the edifice, which was elaborately decorated with satin festoons, palms, artificial flowers, emblems wrought in beads, all in profusion and arranged with native taste. All this, with the intonation of the priests, the chanting of the choir, and the blaring of three bands, made a weird and impressive scene never to be forgotten. After the ceremony, which lasted about an hour, the body was taken to the cemetery, and, as it was by this time quite dark, each person in the procession carried a torch or candle. I noticed quite a number of Chinese among the following, evidently friends, and these were arrayed in as gorgeous apparel as the natives. The remains having been disposed of, there was a grand reception given in the evening in honor of the deceased.

It is customary to have a dance every Sunday evening, and each woman has a chair in which she sits while not dancing. The priests not only attend, but participate most heartily.

I was told that among the papers captured in Manila was a document which proved to be the last bull issued by the Pope to the King of Spain (1895 or 96). This was an agreement between the Pope and the King, whereby the former conveys to the latter the right to authorize the sale of indulgences. The King, in turn, sold this right to the padres and friars in the islands. Absolution from a lie cost the sinner six pesos, or three dollars in gold; other sins in proportion to their enormity and the financial ability of the offender. The annual income of the King of Spain from this system has been estimated at the modest figure of ten millions.

The discovery of this and other documents is due to a party of interpreters who became greatly fascinated by the unearthing process. In the same church in which these were found, the men investigated the gambling tables and found them controlled and manipulated from the room below by means of traps, tubes, and other appliances. An interesting fact in this connection is that one of the interpreters was himself a Romanist, and loath to believe his eyes, but the evidence was convincing, and he was forced to admit it. Gambling is a national custom, deeply rooted.

I shall never forget the joy I experienced when we got two milch cows. What visions of milk, cream, and butter,—fresh butter, not canned; then, too, to see the natives milk was truly a diversion; they went at it from the wrong side, stood at as great a distance as the length of arms permitted, and in a few seconds were through, having obtained for their trouble about a pint of milk—an excellent milk-man’s fluid—a blue and chalky mixture.

One day I heard what seemed to be a cry of distress, half human in entreaty, and I rushed to see what could be the matter. There, on its back, was a goat being milked; there were four boys, each holding a leg, while the fifth one milked upward into a cocoanut shell. It was a ludicrous sight.

One of their dainties is cooked grasshoppers, which are sold by the bushel in the markets. I cannot recommend this dish, for I never was able to summon sufficient courage to test it, but I should think it would be as delectable as the myriad little dried fish which are eaten with garlic as a garnish and flavor.

The poor little horses are half starved and otherwise maltreated by the natives, who haven’t the least idea of how to manage them. They beat them to make them go, then pull up sharply on the reins which whirls them round and round or plunges them right and left, often into the ditches beside the road. It was no uncommon sight to see officers or men getting out of their quielas to push and pull to get the animal started, only to have the driver whip and jerk as before.

Some of the natives bought the American horses and it was painful to see them try to make our noble steeds submit to methods a la Filipino.

Beggars by the thousand were everywhere, blind, lame, and deformed; homeless, they wandered from town to town to beg, especially on market days. One blind woman, who lived on the road from Iloilo to Jaro, had collected seventy-five “mex,” only to have it stolen by her sister. Complaint was made to the military commander, but it was found that the money had been spent and that there was no redress to be had. She must continue to beg while her sister lived hard by in the new “shack” which she had built with the stolen “denaro” (money).

About three miles from Jaro was quite a leper colony, shunned, of course, by the natives. During confession, the lepers kneeled several rods away from the priests. I saw one poor woman whose feet were entirely gone lashed to a board so she could drag herself along by the aid of her hands, which had not yet begun to decay.

There were no visible means of caring for the sick and afflicted; the insane were kept in stocks or chained to trees, and the U. S. hospitals were so overtaxed by the demands made upon them by our own soldiers that little space or attention could be spared to the natives. Charity begins at home.

God bless the dear women who nursed our sick soldiers; it was my pleasure to know quite intimately several of these girls who have made many a poor boy more comfortable. I am proud, too, of our U. S. Army; of course not all of the men were of the Sunday School order, but under such great discomforts, in such deadly perils, and among such treacherous people, nothing more can be expected of mortal men than they rendered. Many poor boys trusted these natives to their sorrow. They accepted hospitality and their death was planned right before their eyes, they, of course, not understanding the language sufficiently to comprehend what was intended. They paid the penalty of their trust with their lives.

On Decoration Day we were able to make beautiful wreaths and crosses. Our soldiers marched to the cemeteries and placed the flowers on the graves of the brave boys who had given their lives in defence of the flag. I had the pleasure of representing the mothers, whose spiritual presence was, I felt sure, with those far-away loved ones. An officer has written me that Memorial Day was again observed this year, and I am sure it was done fittingly.

A Protestant mission was established at Jaro, in a bamboo chapel, pure bamboo throughout, roof, walls, windows, seats, floor. The seats, however, were seldom used, for the natives prefer to squat on the floor. The congregation consisted of men, women, and children, many of whom came on foot from a distance of twenty or more miles, the older people scantily clad, and the children entirely naked; a more attentive audience would be hard to find, as all were eager to get the “cheap religion.” None of the inhabitants of Jaro attend, as yet; they fear to do so, since they are under the strict surveillance of the padre, and are in the shadow of the seminary for priests, the educational center of the island of Panay.

The Protestant minister is a graduate of this institution and is subject to all imaginable abuses and insults. Under his teachings, a great many have been baptized, who seemed devoutly in earnest; it is inspiring to hear them sing with great zeal the familiar hymns, “Rock of Ages,” “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” etc. One incident will suffice to illustrate the intense and determined opposition to Protestantism. One of the native teachers was warned not to return to his home, but, in defiance of all threats, he did so, and was murdered before the eyes of his family. I shall expect to hear that many other missionaries have been disposed of in a similar manner, after the withdrawal of the American troops.

Many ask my opinion as to the value of these possessions; to me they seem rich beyond all estimate. A friend whom I met there, a man who has seen practically the whole world, said that, for climate and possibilities, he knew of no country to compare with the Philippines.

The young generation is greedy for knowledge and anxious to progress, though the older people do not take kindly to innovations, but cling to their old superstitions and cruelties. God grant the better day may come soon.

There was quite an ambition among the natives to be musical; they picked up quickly, “by ear,” some of the catchy things our band played. When I heard them playing “A Hot Time in the Old Town To-night,” on their way to the cemetery, I could not restrain my laughter, and if the deceased were of the order of Katapunan the prophecy was fulfilled. Officers informed me that this society was probably the worst one ever organized, more deadly than anarchists ever were. It was originated by the Masons, but the priests acquired control of it and made it a menace to law and order. I should not have escaped with my life had it not been for one of the best friends I have ever known, a “mestizo,” part Spanish and part Filipino. She undoubtedly saved my life by declaring that before anything was done to me she and her husband must be sacrificed. “Greater love hath no man than this.” They were influential people throughout the islands, and nothing occurred.