nough grain
for the whole population, and a considerable amount to sell in addition,
when all the rice-lands are cultivated. For want of good wagon roads and
railways only a small part of the rice-lands are cultivated.

There is an abundance of good grazing land that will produce meat for
twice the present population. Most of the cattle now grown in the
islands are of the kind found in India.

The most common beast of burden, however, is the carabao, or
water-buffalo. What an ugly looking beast it is! It is as clumsy as a
hippopotamus, as ugly as a rhinoceros, and as kind and gentle as an old
muley cow. Harnessed to a dray or a wagon, it shuffles along, its big,
flat feet seeming to walk all over the road. But those same big feet are
the animal's chief stock in trade. They enable him to walk through both
sand and deep mud--mud so soft and deep that a horse or a mule would
sink to its body. Nothing but the carabao's flatboat-like feet could
drag ploughs through the soft mud of the rice-fields.

Carabaos are easily trained to farm work, and even children can drive
them--or ride on their backs in going to school. The milk of a carabao
is as good and wholesome as that of an ordinary cow; the meat is pretty
tough, but it is not unwholesome.

One thing, however, the carabao must have, and that is a bath several
times a day. Deprived of its bath, the animal at first becomes restless;
then it breaks away in a half-crazed condition for the nearest water,
where it buries itself, all but its head. Native drivers know just how
to manage their animals and drive them to the nearest water several
times a day.

There are horses in the islands, but not many. Most of them are very
much like the mustang. The Spanish brought Andalusian ponies to the
islands many years ago, but they did not prove very useful. Within a few
years American horses were introduced, but they could not live on
Philippine grasses. Mexican mustangs and Mongolian ponies were much
better, however, but they are used chiefly as riding animals.

Of all the beasts of burden in the Philippine Islands, none is in the
same class with John Chinaman. Everywhere his bland smile is seen; his
patience has no end--and, apparently, his work has none. The Filipino
farmer works merely to keep body and soul together; John Chinaman works
to save hard cash, and he saves it. Wherever there is any money to be
made, John is pretty certain to be near by. He is the cook and
"maid-of-a