hite egrets, which
settled on the backs of the water buffaloes. I would often pass these
water buffaloes with their heads sticking out of a way-side pond of
mud and water. They were generally used for drawing the curious wagons
of the country, which were rather like those one sees in Mexico, with
solid wooden wheels. Generally when I met these water buffaloes out
of harness, they were horribly afraid of me and stampeded, at the
same time making the most extraordinary noises, something between
a squeak and a short blast on a penny trumpet. They are usually
stupid-looking brutes, but this showed that they were intelligent
enough to distinguish between me and a Filipino. The pigs here had
three pieces of wood round their necks fastened together to form a
triangle, an excellent idea, as it prevented them from breaking through
the fences. The day following my arrival was a Sunday, and the church,
a large building of stone and galvanized iron, was almost opposite
the American's house. I watched the people going to early mass (the
Filipinos are devout Roman Catholics). All the women wore gauzy veils
thrown over their heads, white or black were the prevailing colours
and sometimes red. I thought they looked very nice in them. I had
asked Camilo to boil me some water, but he begged off very politely,
as he had to go and put on his cassock and surplice to attend the
service in the church, where he sang all alone. When he returned,
I asked him to sing to me what he had sung in the church, and he at
once complied, singing the "Gloria Patri" in a very clear and sweet
voice. After mass was over, the church bell began to toll and an
empty lighted bier came out of the church. It was preceded by three
acolytes bearing a long cross and two large lighted candlesticks,
and followed by a crowd of people. They were no doubt going to call
at a house for the corpse. Shortly afterwards an old Filipino priest
came out and got into one of the quaint covered buffalo wagons with
solid wooden wheels (already mentioned), and drove slowly round by
the road. It was hot and sultry, and thunder was pealing far away in
the mountains. Under a clump of trees (of a kind of yellow flowering
acacia), which grew just outside the large old wooden doors of the
church, there was a group of village youths and loafers, and two
or three men went past with their fighting cocks under their arms,
Sunday afternoon out here being the great day for cock-fighting. There
see