Iloilo, August 17, 1905.

I must tell you all about this Comitiva Taft dissipation, of which we had the first taste on Monday, the 15th, when a printed notice was left at our house, saying that the “Congressional party” had arrived that evening instead of next morning, and another large, flowery, and handsome invitation, bidding us to a reception to be held at the house of the De la Ramos, very rich Filipinos, who have a fine house in a broad, shady street, where the Bank and some other big houses stand within gardens.

The reception was to be followed by the performance at the Filipino theatre, to which as I told you we had also been invited, but we thought that the reception, which was “scheduled” to come off at eight, would be quite enough for us for one evening.

We dined early, and sent Domingo out for a quilez “with a good horse.” He came back after a long while and said all the carriages in the town were already hired, but he had got what he could, and the caballo was poco bueno (little good). He was right. It was a horse to make one’s heart ache to look at; and when we stepped into the dirty old broken-down quilez, to which he was attached with odds and ends of old rope, the poor beast started going backwards all down the street. The driver roared profanities, and clicked his lips, and chucked the reins, but all to no effect; till at last he called one of our servants out of the house, and they each seized a wheel by the spokes and forced it round, so that the pony was shoved along, when it started off at a great pace; the driver sprang on the box, and we tore like the wind to the house of De la Ramos.

There had been a great deal of rain, and the roads were very deep in mud, but the sky had cleared, and a bright moon was shining.

In spite of this natural illumination, there was a reckless profusion of arc-lights in the streets, which, as I told you, had been in black gloom for months. We had seen the lamps being repaired for some days when we went out in the evenings, and the general furbishing-up and improvement extended to a sudden serving out of ice from the Government factory, so that everyone was wishing there could be one of these Visitations to Iloilo every week. Well, when we got to the De la Ramos house, we found all the front really extremely pretty, with huge stars-and-stripes flags—stripes the size of palm-trunks and stars like soup-plates—draped right across the front, with green palm-branches stuck about, all in the light of brilliant illuminations. Great doors stood open to a vast lighted and decorated hall, with a very big cut-glass chandelier in the middle.

The poco bueno horse was pulled up on his haunches abruptly in front of all this magnificence, and some white men leaning against the doorway picking their teeth, looked at us, but offered no remark. So C——, in evening dress, got out and asked one of them if this was the house where the reception was to take place. One man, keeping his toothpick in his mouth, said:

“Waal I guess there is naht going to be any great shakes of a reception to-night.”

“Oh,” said C——, “we got an invitation from the Reception Committee, and heard the Manchuria had come in.”

“That’s so, sirree,” said the man, “but Secretary Taft and Miss Alice is not coming ashore; leastways, they’re on board now eating their dinners.”

“Will they go to the theatre, then?” we asked.

“No,” said the man vaguely, “I guess naht. Leastways, I don’t rightly know. But Secretary Taft says he don’t want to come ashore before his skeddled time to-morrow morning. I reckon he’s gettin’ a bit sick of goin’ around.”

The man was quite civil, but he and his fellow-loungers were so vague and depressing that we drove away again, feeling rather sorry we had taken the trouble to put on evening dress.

We made our driver go down the end of the street to the quay by the Customs landing, where there was a very pretty arch, all lighted up, with portraits painted on it of Mr Roosevelt, and “Miss Alice,” and Mr Taft. This had been erected by the Filipinos, and the decorations, which were the work of a native artist, were really not at all discreditable. Across Calle Real was another arch, put up by the Chinese, at the entrance to where their shops begin, with more electric lights and pictures of angels, and more medallions of Mr Roosevelt, with an entirely different face from the Customs one, and “Miss Alice” looking about thirty, with fat, red cheeks and masses of black hair.

After admiring these marvels, and noticing what could be seen of the decorations on the houses, we drove home and consoled our hearts very successfully with cold mutton—a treat from the Cold Storage in Manila—which would have made up to us for anything. You see, you can’t have cold meat in this climate without ice to cool it on, and we have been without ice for so many wretched months. Faddy people should be sent to Iloilo to learn to say a fervid and completely heart-whole grace before cold mutton, and I often think out here of the delicious cold meat which our servants at home may be, at that very moment, refusing to eat!

Next day we were awakened by a brass band walking up and down the streets, and blowing Sousa and “Hiawatha” for all it was worth. It was not yet dawn when this festivity began, so after we had sworn at them, we went to sleep again, for the music did not mean that anything was happening, beyond that its playing was a sort of general rouse-out and reminder. We had been informed that the reception was to be held at the Gobierno soon after the party landed, so, as we determined to bring this function to bay somehow, we sallied forth after breakfast to see what was to be seen.

A quilez was not to be had for love or money, nor, indeed, a “rig” of any sort, so we walked to the Plaza, and in the Calle Real picked up a carromata—one of the fearful little vehicles into which you climb over a muddy wheel and sit jammed up behind the driver.

After sending back Sotero, who had followed to look for a quilez for us, and making him carry away Tuyay, who insisted on not leaving us, we got into the carromata and drove down the crowded streets to the Gobierno.

All the houses were very gay with stars and stripes and greenery—the decorations very little spoilt by the rain—and the streets full of people in clean clothes; all the principal thoroughfares crowded, but the others very empty.

The day, which had begun with rain, had cleared up, and was very fresh and jolly, as it had not yet had time to get steamy, and a cool breeze was blowing, the flags fluttered in the sun, bands were playing everywhere, and it was all very gay and sparkling. In one of the streets we began to pass a long procession, waiting behind the scenes, as it were, with flags unfurled and bands ready to strike up.

There were crowds and crowds of people making for the palace, and we were told that the Comitiva Taft had already landed and driven there, so we followed as best we could. There was a great deal of shouting of TabÉ—and we were as near as anything over some of the revellers who were mooning about as if the streets were deserted.

By-the-bye, I don’t know whether this expression Comitiva Taft is bad Spanish or good Filipino, but it is the one employed by the Philippine newspapers, and I prefer it to the American “Taft Circus.”

When we arrived at the Gobierno, we found large crowds of little, brown-faced Filipinos in white American suits, all looking up at the broad balcony—the one where the band had played on the night of the 4th-of-July ball. The whole expanse of balcony was full of people, with many ladies standing in front in light frocks and big flat hats.

We struggled through the crowd of sight-seers and into the big basement, which was decorated very profusely, and where a lot of people were standing about. A man told us he guessed the reception was going on upstairs; and we thought perhaps he had guessed correctly, so we mounted the broad stairs, between sheaves of palms and American flags, and found ourselves in a huge crowd in the outer room of the suite I described to you the night of the ball. The court room had been arranged with rows of chairs and benches facing the daÏs, and the balcony beyond, with the bright blue sky and white glare of sunlight for a background, was a seething mass of white-clad humanity. I noticed the Americans were all at one end and the Filipinos at the other—an arrangement of choice, I imagine, rather than accident.

Amongst the visitors I met again Mrs Luke E. Wright, and several other people whose acquaintance I had made in Manila, as the party had been nearly doubled by the numbers absorbed into it after arriving in the Philippines. My friends said they had heard I was ill, and that I was going home, and envied me, calling heaven to witness that they wished they were going “back home” too. The Governor’s secretary told me that the party now amounted to 170 people, and they had a very jolly time on board, and were expecting to have a very pleasant trip round the Islands.

There was no regular presenting being done, and no one offered to introduce us to Mr Taft or “Miss Alice,” and we did not like to ask them to do so, which I am sorry about now, as I should have liked to have met them. However, Miss Alice was standing next to the Governor’s wife while I was talking to the latter, so I was able to get an impression of her appearance, which I thought quite pleasing; a young girl with a fluff of fair hair tied behind with a big bow of black ribbon, a very pale complexion, and heavily-lidded blue eyes. She had on a coat and skirt of stiff white pique, which did not do justice to her pretty figure, and a plain straw hat with blue ribbons on it tilted over her forehead.

All the American ladies amongst the visitors were very plainly dressed in shirts and skirts, as for the country in the morning, with large, flat hats and floating gauze veils—just like the American tourists you see in London out of the season. The residents, however, had on pretty muslins and hats, and the Filipino ladies sported their most beautiful camisas and finest jewels. I heard afterwards that the very plain costumes of the visitors were considered as rather a poor compliment, not to say a mistake in tact, for of course the Manila papers had given glowing accounts of the lovely dresses they wore at the entertainments in Manila, and Orientals think such a lot of that sort of thing—and so do Occidentals, too, for the matter of that!

Mr Taft and the Senators were all in white linen suits; the officers in white linen, too, plus the badges of their rank. Mr Taft, who is a very tall, fair man of enormous build, towered over the heads of everyone about him. I don’t think I ever saw anyone so vast, and could quite believe that he weighed 250 pounds—though I must say that to hear a weight expressed in pounds does not convey much impression to my mind. He has a large, clever face, which creases up into an amiable smile for which he is famous, and which has helped him enormously in life. In curious contrast are his eyes, which are small, and placed rather close together, and very shrewd in expression. When he is serious, it is a stern, rather hard face, and not very pre-possessing, but when he smiles the “Taft smile,” it is altered in the most extraordinary manner, and he really looks charming.

After we had been on the balcony a little time, the procession began to come into sight, headed by a brass band. At this the people on the balcony sorted themselves out, Mr Taft and “Miss Alice” standing in the front of the balcony with the chief personages behind them, and less important Americans in the doorways and on the outskirts, all in the most approved “democratic” style, while the brown faces all clustered at the other end of the balcony. I thought it a great pity that it did not occur to Mr Taft, or Miss Roosevelt, or the Governor, or anyone like that to go and stand amongst the Filipinos and give a real and tangible demonstration of the theories they were there to express. I did not see anyone talking to the visitors but Americans, either, and I thought that a pity too.

You see, a little thing like that would convey more truth about Equality than miles of bombastic print or hours of windy rhetoric.

The Governor’s secretary found me a place in front of the balcony, but I was foolish enough to move away for a moment to speak to someone, and so lost my place. Then we saw that people were beginning to stand on the benches, so C—— got me a place on one by asking some men to move, which they were rather huffy about. On one side of me was a tall, thin young Senator with a large hand-camera, who showed his resentment in tiresome little incivilities; but the man on the other side was a nice, good-natured soul, who tried to make room for me, and spoke very agreeably. He seemed to be feeling the heat very much, and complained that it was so fearfully hot, but I laughed and said: “This is the coolest day we have had for a long time.”

“My!” he exclaimed, “I guess I’m not fair crazy to come and live in these old Phaluppeens.”

“Oh,” I said, “then you have not joined the party at Manila?”

He said he had come from America all the way, and told us he was a newspaper man with a mission, come to write up the trip. This made us understand better his asking from time to time such extraordinarily elementary questions. He wanted to know what a carabao was, and was surprised to hear that sugar cane only flourished in Panay and Negros. I had to explain to him that we were in Panay, and pointed out Negros and Guimaras!

I did not grudge the trouble of teaching him the A B C of the Philippines, but I could not help thinking it rather odd that he had no more preparation for his mission when his opinions would probably be “voiced” and quoted as oracles on his return to “God’s Country.”

Of course he was choke full of long words about the American Ideal, and told me a lot about the absurdity of such narrow prejudice as race-distinctions; but I let that go without remark, and without even taking the trouble to draw his attention to the demonstrations before his eyes; for I have found out by this time that you might as well talk to the wind as to a race-equality American who won’t sit “on a car” with a negro in the States.

C——, who was standing behind me, joined in the conversation, whereupon the American journalist instantly whipped out his visiting card and handed it to him, but of course C—— was quite unprepared, and had to spell his name and explain himself generally. It is very amusing, and at first rather embarrassing, the way Americans hand you a card as soon as you speak, but it has its advantages in getting names right.

The procession was remarkably like the one we had seen on Declaration Day, only with different “floats.” I don’t suppose you know what “floats” are, and no more did I, for when I had read descriptions of the processions in Manila, and how the “floats” were “gotten up,” I concluded the function had been a water-pageant on the Pasig. I heard some people about me using the same word, however, and mentioned it to my journalistic friend, who informed me that the word was one which was employed in the U.S.A. to signify cars in a procession, and that its origin was in New Orleans, where they had processions on the river with decorated “floats” or rafts.

This was a very long procession, and some of the agricultural cars were prettily done up with banana plants, and one had sugar canes growing in it; and there were ploughs, and rows of men carrying spades and hoes and things. Mr Taft stood and watched it all, talking to Miss Roosevelt; but he got what the children call a good deal of powder in his spoonful of jam, in the shape of huge white banners with large inscriptions on them about the financial situation and the tariffs. Some of these reminders were of a very ingenious pattern, like huge three-sided lanterns, with the inscription in English, Spanish, and Visayan, so that no one should make any mistake about what was meant. “A square deal” was written on one, and some of them were, to me, quite pathetic, for they said: “We are at your mercy,” and others were frank, not to say abrupt, requests for liberty, “to govern ourselves our own way.”

At all these and at the strings of labourers from the Harbour Works, the Fire Brigade, etc., Mr Taft stared very solemnly and steadily, standing upright in front of the balcony, with Miss Roosevelt beside him, his arms folded across his chest. I was much struck by his expression, and could not help looking at him as much as at the procession and wondering what he really thought of it all. When the workmen came past, our journalist friend suddenly betrayed his knowledge of Philippine affairs by saying knowingly: “Ah, these are the Chinese labourers, I guess.”

“No,” said C——. “Those are Filipinos. There are no Chinese labourers in the Philippines except in some mills in Luzon.”

This information apparently took the man’s breath away; if he believed it, which he probably did not. He was quite silent for a long time. Perhaps some of his most elaborate perorations had been damaged, and C—— and I thought afterwards that it was rather a pity we had disillusioned the poor creature as we did. Another of his cherished illusions was what I may call the St Louis “Exposition” idea of the Philippines, and we had the greatest difficulty in trying to persuade him that all he saw was not the direct result of the American occupation!

At last the interminable lines of school children came past—all the Government schools, of course—as on Declaration Day; no priests or convents. Mr Taft had looked on unmoved and unsmiling at the Agricultural and Industrial displays, but when he saw these scholars, he broke into the “Taft smile,” and clapped his hands above his head. All the Americans followed his lead by bursting into applause, which they kept up, as he did, all the time the schools were passing. I turned my head to the right, where the little brown parents of these children were crowded together, and saw that not one single Filipino made one gesture of applause!

The schools took a long, long time to crawl past, and the continuous applause became rather tiring. But even a Filipino procession must come to an end if only you can wait long enough, and the last of them went past, and we got down off our bench.

Then followed a great surging and shifting of all the people on the balcony, everyone trying to secure a seat in the Court Room, and we were lucky enough to get near a door and not very far from the front.

On the daÏs were placed two or three rows of Vienna cane chairs, those for the important people in front, with arms to them. In these sat the Governor, Mrs Luke E. Wright, and “Miss Alice.” Next to the latter Mr Taft took the chair assigned to him, into which he wedged himself with infinite trouble; but the chair at once broke to pieces. Everyone laughed very much, Mr Taft most heartily of all, saying in a good-natured, jolly way: “Here! Someone give me a chair I can sit down on. I’m tired of standing.”

So they brought him another chair, and he took his place, and the speechifying began.

The Presidente of Iloilo—a very courtly old Filipino of the name of Meliza—made a speech of welcome—a very long affair—which included the subjects of Taxation, Duties, and Independence, to which Mr Taft replied elusively, repeating nothing tangible but his old phrase of “Philippines for the Filipinos.”

Then some more people made speeches—natives—and at last they drove Mr Taft into a corner about the Independence, and he said, “I am not come to give you your Independence, but to study your welfare. You will have your Independence when you are ready for it, which will not be in this generation—no, nor in the next, nor perhaps for a hundred years or more.”

Even though I have told you how up to then no one had any idea of why he and his party had come to the Islands—most people thinking he was going to say something definite about the Americans retiring from the Islands—the natives all firmly convinced that he was coming to ratify the undated promise of Independence he made them two years ago—even though I have told you this, you can have no idea of the effect these words had upon the audience. We were simply staggered, and the darker complexioned amongst us sat quite still and immovable.

The speeches lost some of their force by being translated as they went along by an interpreter, who spoke English and Spanish with equal perfection, and, indeed, he was quite marvellous; but all the same the utterances lost point, and it was not easy to follow the thread with long halts between. What was more serious was that the translations of Mr Taft’s opinions were softened by the courteous Spanish phrases, and the fiery patriotism of the Filipinos was marvellously toned down in the English rendering.

During a question of taxation, Mr Taft said:

“I want to know if you think it would be any good to reduce the Land Tax, or if, by suspending it for three years, the trade and agriculture of the country would benefit?”—or words to that effect. Whereupon he and old SeÑor Meliza had quite a long argument about this weighty point.

The whole ceremony was indescribably free and easy, and even commonplace. Most of the Senators took very little interest in the proceedings, while the ladies with them did not even pretend to care about what was going on. As to “Miss Alice,” she was honest enough to make no pretence at all of listening to anything, but sat staring before her, drumming with her pretty, slender, white fingers on her lips, only waking up to signal and laugh to some friends in a doorway near the platform. She was very girlish and natural in this and in all her other gestures, and if she lacked the pose necessary to the occasion, one could not be too critical nor take objection to her lack of grand manner when people were presented to her, for, after all, such situations are only to be carried off with ease by those born and bred to State ceremonies. Besides, it would have been unreasonable to have looked for scrupulously aristocratic bearing amongst such a party of professed democrats.

In spite of all that, however, the Filipinos, who, with their traditions of custumbres, are themselves a very polite people, were much shocked by the free and easy ways of their rulers, benefactors, or whatever they are. I afterwards heard many little comments upon the American lack of dignity, which made me feel sad, for these two peoples will never understand each other—even the good sentiments of the heart being conveyed by differences of manner, which are meat to one and poison to the other.

In talking of taxation, the word “sugar” suddenly arose, on which Mr Taft, who was getting obviously bored, and mopping his face freely, rose and said:

“See here. We’ve come to this place to talk about sugar. Now, look here, have you got any room where the gentlemen who are with me can meet your representatives? They would like to see a sugar plantation growing, too, if you can show them one.”

The Filipinos said they thought that could be arranged, and, as a matter of fact, the hall for this confabulation was already prepared, and the growing cane ready as well.

“That’s all right,” said Mr Taft. “All I care about is to get out of this room and get some of that nice cool wind on me!” He looked simply melting. So everyone rose up, and Mr Taft gave out that Mrs Carter, the wife of the General, invited the ladies of the party to luncheon with her at her house “on” the Calle Real at one o’clock. Then everyone filed away, and we went home to rest before the evening. It was then half-past eleven—very late for this country—and the sun very hot.

I was afterwards told about the ladies’ luncheon party. It only consisted of the visitors, most of whom were already personal friends of Mrs Carter, so, of course, it was not an important function. Here, again, I thought, was a golden opportunity wasted, for a few invitations extended to leading Filipino and Mestiza ladies would have done more good to the American cause than all the utterances of the cleverest orators.

In the evening we went, in the usual pantomime quilez, to the Santa Cecilia Club, where the Filipino banquet to Mr Taft and his Comitiva was to be held. Or at least, that was the official description of the entertainment for which, as I told you, we each paid a preposterous sum.

The whole building was ablaze with lights and bunting, while the familiar perilous medley of vehicles surged about in the mud outside, with hairbreadth escapes going on every minute, any one of which would have made the fortune of a clever paragraphist.

The top of the stairs, the big landing, and outer place, were crowded with people, but the main room was still comparatively empty, so when we went in we had a good chance of seeing the decorations and tables. The latter were most ingeniously arranged to form the letters ILOILO, with a long table for the first I, then two long ones each with an elbow to make a sort of flat O, and then another long one with a long elbow for L, “and repeat,” as they say in knitting patterns. The only attempt at decoration was a mass of greenery all down the middle of each table, lying flat on the cloth, with oranges and lanzone fruits lying on it, and salted pistachio nuts all thrown about anyhow. By each plate lay a small spray of flowers (gardenias, little roses etc.), a list of the guests, with a plan of the tables and the menu, which was a small blue paper book with a nouveau art picture of a woman on the cover. On the back of this menu was printed in large, clear type these words: “La situacion di Filipinas es como La de un enfermo que necesita una radical y eficaz medicacion. La supresion de la Tarifa Dingley es la mejor medicacion para Filipinas.” The interpretation of which is: “The situation of the Philippines is like that of a sick person for whom a radical and efficacious remedy is necessary. The suppression of the Dingley Tariff is the best medicine for the Philippines.”

This menu amused me a good deal, with the idea that poor long-suffering Mr Taft was to have politics written on everything he saw or touched, and certainly the Filipinos did not appear to be going to let slip any of this golden opportunity of “voicing” their grievances. The room was lighted by electric lights on the ceiling, arranged in the form of letters, spelling Taft on one side of the room and Visayas on the other, and flags, palm-branches, and paper roses were employed in the usual profusion.

The people dropped in gradually, and when the Taft party arrived, Mr Taft took his place at the middle of the first L, under the picture of Washington. The rest of the party were scattered up and down the tables anyhow, with no scheme of precedence, which was very sensible, and the first tangible display of democratic principles I have seen since we came to the Philippines.

About 258 guests were “scheduled,” and less than three-quarters of the places filled. When I looked round the hall, I saw that the English and Germans were fairly well represented; but there were very few Spaniards, only about half a dozen Filipinos, some Chino-Mestizos, and one or two Eurasian ladies in lovely camisas, and wearing magnificent diamonds. All the rest were Americans.

Everyone seemed disappointed that Miss Roosevelt did not put in an appearance at the banquet. The rumour went about that she was too tired with the morning’s fatigues to be able to go out again. Afterwards I heard this discussed, when some said that “Miss Alice” was not at all strong, and that the round of gaieties in Manila had worn her out; while others declared that she always shirked the serious side of the trip if she could possibly do so; but I don’t expect the latter theory was true, and I thought it rather a shame of her country folk to say it.

The feast began with tinned julienne, the Constabulary band playing at the side, in the outer room, with a vigour which quite relieved one of any necessity for conversation. I examined my list of guests and plan of the tables to find out who the people were, and saw that all the blank places were those of Filipinos! Fancy! Their welcome to their Patron Saint! But he had so disappointed them by his avowed sentiments at the reception at the Gobierno in the morning that very few of them could be induced to come to the banquet.

As far as eating went, the banquet was a haphazard affair, for it was almost impossible to persuade the dazed Filipino waiters to attend to one. At least, they did attend, but in a very Filipino way, for I got four bottles of white wine brought me; C—— had never a taste of soup; and we both had three plates of fish put down before us, which the people on each side took away, as they could not get any at all. Everyone was very good-natured, so it was all very amusing.

There was considerable liberty of conscience displayed in the costumes of the guests, some of the American men being in soiled white day suits, conducting female relations in high cotton blouses; while others were got up in full evening dress. One handsome woman, who I heard was the wife of an officer in Camp Josman, was so much in evening dress, possibly to make up for the others in the blouses, that she was instantly nick-named The Mermaid. Her finely shaped head was dressed very low, and set off by classic bands of gold, with huge bunches of flowers and ribbons over each ear, and I heard a man near me suggest to another that someone should go and ask her to take some of the ornaments out of her coiffure and put them round her bodice. But no one had the courage to do this thing, so the little Mestiza ladies stared and giggled, and as for the few Orientals present, they looked at the Mermaid as if they thought Equality was going to be great fun.

When we were just about to fall on some beef À la mode which had at last, after incredible pertinacity on the part of C——, been placed before us, a man at one of the tables behind us suddenly got up and began to make a speech. Everyone slewed their heads round to see him, and forgot the beef, which the waiters instantly fell upon and swept away beyond recall.

The speechmaker proposed a health, which we drank in very good red or white wine provided for us, and then he made a speech, and someone—one of the visiting party, I think—got up and replied.

After him, another got up. But many people listened to him and still held on to their helping of turkey, which they tried to eat as noiselessly as possible; a most amusing sight.

Then another; and another; popping up in all sorts of places, with the interpreter appearing suddenly beside them like a harlequin. Some of the speeches, in spite of the halting of the translation, were very good, and very interesting; for the speakers did not mince matters much—the natives saying things very plainly, and the Americans replying with equal frankness.

Next me at table sat a Filipino swell in European evening dress, with splendid diamonds on his hands and in his embroidered shirt front, who turned his chair round when the speeches began, and sat astride, leaning on the back. He cleared his throat, and spat on the floor in such a dreadful manner that I felt sick, and at last I turned quite faint, and had to get up and move to an empty place further on. There I was not so well off, as far as hearing went, for the head of the next table was occupied by a cheery party of “prominent citizens,” Senators, and officers, who were drinking champagne and making a horrible noise.

I moved again, this time to a doorway at the upper end of the hall, where a polite young Mestizo offered me his chair; so I ended in being very well off as to a place, and heard and saw very well.

An old Senator with a venerable beard was making a long speech on the subject of freedom and the folly of race-distinction. In defence of the latter theory, he rather rashly quoted Tennyson, repeating the lines about “Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,” which could not be applied in the remotest way to either Americans or Filipinos and came out pure gibberish in the translation.

To him replied the editor of one of the Iloilo papers, a small, full-blooded Filipino, with sharp, clever features. He made a most fiery and eloquent speech, in which, with angry brown face, and clenched fists thumping the back of the chair on which he leant, he declared that the Philippine Islands had been discovered as long as America, and that the Filipinos had the same spirit as that which had caused the Americans to revolt from England.

He got fearfully excited, and called God to witness that his people were only asking for their rights in wishing to have this foreign burden removed; he and they demanded, insisted on, their Independence! When he sat down, the waiters and the band, and the Filipino spectators who had strolled in, all applauded frantically.

The applause, by-the-bye, was most instructive, for the American speeches were applauded to the echo with shouts by the Americans; but the Filipinos and Mestizos received the Spanish translations in utter silence. On the other hand, the brown folk roared with applause over their own speakers, and the Americans did not take the least notice of the English translations. It was a most odd and unique scene.

Last of all came Mr Taft, who spoke better, more clearly, and more simply than any of the others, and my only regret was that such a splendid delivery should have been impeded by the interpretations.

He repeated all the things he had said in the morning at the Gobierno, walking even more boldly up to the Independence question, and saying that the people would be given their Independence when they were worthy of it, which was the sacred duty of the American people, who had received these Islands as a Trust from God.

This was received with rapturous ovations by his countrymen, but the translation was taken in absolute and embarrassing silence—all but two or three hisses!

He went on to expound the theory of educating the Filipino people up to Western ideals, and laid great stress upon the dignity and power of labour—“and you must work with your hands—your hands!”—thunders of applause from the white men. Absolute silence after the translation. For my part, I can’t say I felt much carried away by these phrases when I recollected the speaker’s attitude towards manual labour and book-learning a few hours before.

When they were on a level with the free races, “in a hundred years, perhaps three hundred, four hundred, they would be worthy to stand and face the nations”—or something like that. He also said that he had certainly promised the Filipinos Independence, and he was not going back upon his words, no—he was come to uphold—to ratify them. “Dear Wards from God,” he called them, spreading his arms out and smiling the Taft smile, and saying “that the Philippines were a solemn trust, and the Americans would not fail in this great duty towards humanity.”

So these fine words were all they got out of Mr Taft, and we all rose and trooped out to find our “rigs.”

At the top of the staircase I met a very Prominent Citizen, who remarked that this had been a great occasion for Iloilo; and I said: “Yes, Mr Taft is a clever man and a brilliant orator.”

“That’s so,” agreed my friend, “he made a vurry fine speech.”

I said: “He spoke a great many truths; what he said was very straightforward.”

“Yes,” said the P. C., “but he should have said all that two years ago.”

And that, I find, is the unanimous verdict of every class and nationality about Mr Taft’s subtle and rather tardy interpretation of the promises he made when he was Governor of the Philippines.

Next evening, when the party had gone, and there was nothing left but to discuss what had taken place, we were leaning over the balcony when a Prominent Citizen of our acquaintance came walking past, and stopped, in the friendly, half-Spanish fashion of the country, to say good evening and make a few remarks.

“It was a fine show,” we said.

“Why yes,” he agreed, “I guess the Filipinos did their best for the Secwar.”

“I think he disappointed them, though,” said C——.

“Well, I should smile! I guess Secretary Taft’s the best hated man in these islands now.”

And that, I believe, is the unfortunate truth.