into a rock, and the Chinese was saved. But do not imagine that the
legend ends here; the Chinese are not an ungrateful people--China
is the land of porcelain, of tea, and of gratitude. The Chinese who
had thus escaped from the cruel fate that awaited him, felt desirous
of consecrating the memory of the miracle; and, in concert with his
brethren of Manilla, he built a pretty chapel and parsonage in honour
of the good St. Nicholas. This chapel was for a long time officiated
in by a bonze; and every year, at the festival of the saint, the rich
Chinese of Manilla assembled there in thousands, to give a series of
fetes which lasted for fifteen days. But it happened that an archbishop
of Manilla, looking upon this worship offered up by Chinese gratitude
as nothing but paganism, caused both the chapel and parsonage to be
unroofed. These harsh measures had no other result than to admit the
rain into the buildings; but the worship due to St. Nicholas still
continued, and remains to this day. Perhaps this arises from the
attempt to suppress it!

At present, at the period when this festival takes place--that is,
about the 6th of November every year--a delightful view presents
itself. During the night large vessels may be seen, upon which are
built palaces actually several stories high, terminating in pyramids,
and lit up from the base to the summit. All these lights are reflected
in the placid waters of the river, and seem to augment the number of
the stars, whose tremulous images dance on the surface of the waters:
it is an extemporised Venice! In these palaces they give themselves
up to play, to smoking opium, and to the pleasures of music. The
pevete, a species of Chinese incense, is burning everywhere and at
all times in honour of St. Nicholas, who is invoked every morning
by throwing into the river small square pieces of paper of various
colours. St. Nicholas, however, does not make his appearance; but
the fete continues for a fortnight, at the termination of which the
faithful retire till the year following.

And now that the reader is acquainted with the legend of the crocodile,
of the Chinese, and of the good St. Nicholas, I will resume my voyage.

I sailed on peaceably upon the Pasig, proceeding to the conquest of my
new dominions, and indulging in golden dreams. I gazed on the light
smoke of my cigarette, without reflecting that my dreams, my castles
in the air, must evaporate like it! I soon found myself in the lake