e first Indian whom I met,
I made long excursions, less occupied in shooting than in admiring the
magnificent scenery. I knew a little Spanish, and soon acquired a few
Tagaloc words. Whether it was for excitement's sake, or from a vague
desire of braving danger, I know not, but I was particularly fond of
wandering in remote places, said to be frequented by robbers. With
these I occasionally fell in, but the sight of my gun kept them in
check. I may say, with truth, that at that period of my life I had so
little sense of danger, that I was always ready to put myself forward
when there was an enemy to fight or a peril to be encountered.

I had only resided a short time at Cavite when that terrible scourge,
the cholera, broke out at Manilla, in September, 1820, and quickly
ravaged the whole island. Within a few days of its first appearance
the epidemic spread rapidly; the Indians succumbed by thousands; at
all hours of the day and of the night the streets were crowded with
the dead-carts. Next to the fright occasioned by the epidemic, quickly
succeeded rage and despair. The Indians said, one to another, that the
strangers poisoned the rivers and the fountains, in order to destroy
the native population and possess themselves of the Philippines.

On the 9th October, 1820, the anniversary of my departure from France,
a dreadful massacre commenced at Manilla and at Cavite. Poor Dibard,
the captain of the Cultivateur, was one of the first victims. Almost
all the French who resided at Manilla were slain, and their houses
pillaged and destroyed. The carnage only ceased when there were no
longer any victims. One eye-witness escaped this butchery, namely,
M. Gautrin, a captain of the merchant service, who, at the moment I
am writing, happens to be residing in Paris. He saved his life by his
courage and his muscular strength. After seeing one of his friends
mercilessly cut to pieces, he precipitated himself into the midst
of the assassins, with no other means of defence than his fists. He
succeeded in fighting his way through the crowd, but shortly afterwards
fell exhausted, having received three sabre-cuts upon his head, and a
lance-thrust in his body. Fortunately, some soldiers happened to pass
by at the time, who picked him up and carried him to a guard-house,
where his wounds were quickly attended to.

I myself was dodged about Cavite, but I contrived to escape, and
to reach a pirogue, into which I jumped, and took refuge on b