The excitement on the islands ran quite high during the McKinley-Bryan campaign. The natives conceived that if Bryan were elected they could, in some way, they could not explain how, not only be very greatly benefited personally, but the U. S. troops would be withdrawn; they would then be rid not only of the Spaniards but of the Americans, and could then have a ruler of their own choosing. I knew that there were small papers or bulletins published to intensify these sentiments. Popular favor was all for Bryan and not one person for McKinley, while on the other hand I do not think there was a single soldier who was not a McKinley man. The feeling ran high, and, while our papers gave us every assurance that the Republican party would be victorious, we were very anxious for the news. On the night of the 6th of November we had the glorious report. It did not take long for the shouts to go up from every American soldier. About eleven o’clock P. M. all the American officers and men formed in procession with the band at the head; they came around to the house where I was staying and called out, “Come, Mrs. Conger, you must join in this jubilee.” I did not need a second invitation. Snatching my little American flag that I take wherever I go, I formed in line with the boys. We marched around and around the park, cheering, singing patriotic songs, and hurrahing for McKinley. In front of one of the houses where I knew they were the most bitter toward the Americans, we cheered lustily. I had been there only a few days before to purchase a Jusi dress for Mrs. McKinley. I said that I would like one of their very best weaves, as it would go to the White House to Mrs. McKinley. With a great deal of scorn in her voice and manner she declared she would not make it. We continued on our march through and around the town until after one o’clock, when I returned to my room. I was about to retire when a detachment from the Scouts came and said, “Oh, Mrs. Conger, we want you to come over to the park, we are going to have a big bonfire.” So I went over and we had another jollification, hurrahing, singing, shouting for McKinley, until we made ourselves hoarse. We burned up all the old debris that we could gather and plenty of bamboo, which makes a cracking noise, quite like a roll of musketry. From every window and crevice in every house about that park native heads were gazing at us, and never one cheer came from a single throat, but we gave them to understand in no uncertain terms where we stood. I suppose they thought it was only one more unheard of thing for a woman to do, to be out marching and singing, and I am sure they thought “SeÑora Blanco,” the name I was called by the people all over the Island of Panay, had gone mad; and I was certainly doing unheard of things, for, as I said before, it is not considered at all proper for a woman to be walking or riding with a man. And to think that a woman of my years, and the only American woman in that part of the country, would, at such an hour, be marching with those hundreds of boys in the dead of night was wholly beyond their comprehension, and they had no words adequate to express their disgust at my outburst of enthusiasm and patriotism.