deceived, for, on leaving his palace, I went direct to the minister
of finance and purchased the property of Jala-Jala. My course was
marked out, my resolution unshakable. Although my resignation was
not yet duly accepted, I began to act as though I was completely
free. I had at the beginning informed Anna of the matter, and had
asked her if she would reside at Jala-Jala. "With you I should be
happy anywhere." Such was her answer. I was free, then, to act as I
pleased, and could go wherever my destiny might lead me. I forthwith
decided upon visiting the land that I had purchased.

For the execution of this project it was necessary to find a faithful
Indian upon whom I could rely. From among my domestics I chose the
coachman, a brave and discreet man, who was devoted to me. I took some
arms, ammunition, and provisions. At Lapindan, a small village near the
town of Santa Anna, I freighted a small boat worked by three Indians:
and one morning, without making my project known to my friends, and
without inquiring whether the governor had replaced me, I set out to
take possession of my domains, respiring the vivifying and pure air of
liberty. I ascended in my pirogue--which skimmed along the surface of
the waters like a sea-gull--the pretty river Pasig, which issues from
the lake of Bay, and traverses, on its way to the sea, the suburbs of
Manilla. The banks of this river are planted with thickets of bamboo,
and studded with pretty Indian habitations; above the large town of
Pasig it receives the waters of the river St. Mateo, at the spot where
that river unites itself with that of the Pasig. Upon the left bank
are still seen the ruins of the chapel and parsonage of St. Nicholas,
built by the Chinese, as the legend I am about to relate informs us.

At an unknown epoch, a Chinese who was once sailing in a canoe, either
upon the river Pasig, or that of St. Mateo, suddenly perceived an
alligator making for his frail bark, which it immediately capsized. On
his finding himself thus plunged in the water, the unfortunate Chinese
whose only prospect was that of making a meal for the ferocious animal,
invoked the aid of St. Nicholas. You, perhaps, would not have done
so, nor I either; and we should have been wrong, for the idea was a
good one. The good St. Nicholas listened to the cries of the unhappy
castaway, appeared to his wondering eyes, and with a stroke of a
wand, like some benevolent fairy, changed the threatening crocodile