e
enlisted under Aguinaldo, which is not likely, because old men cannot
run fast enough to be effective members of the Filipino army.

The Great Earthquake

After months of fighting, Li Ma Hong, the Chinese pirate, and his six
thousand followers had been beaten out of Philippine waters. Manila
was celebrating the victory on this last night of November, 1645. The
church bells had been clanging and chiming, the windows had been
lighted, flags and pennants had streamed from the house-tops, sounds
of music and cries of rejoicing were heard, a thousand fairy lamps
starred the darkness and quivered in the Pasig. The flag of Spain had
been carried through the streets in solemn procession, the cathedral
altar had smoked with incense, the friars had chanted the "Te Deum,"
but now all was gayety and music and perfume. A ball was among the
festivities, and military and civic officers, pranked in the lace
and bullion so dear to the Latins, were going through the narrow
ways with their ladies on their arms. Taking no part in the joyous
hurly-burly, two men walked apart, near the cathedral, in talk. One
was a father in the church; the other, secretary and major-domo of the
governor. The calling of the one, the age and dignity of the other,
to say nothing of an old wound that gave a hitch and drag to his step,
forbade their mingling with the throng.

The secretary spoke: "No, father, I hardly agree with your view. That
heaven has been on our side I admit, since we have conquered the
infidels, seized their treasure, and strewn their corpses on our
shores. But that the blessed St. Francis interposes in our behalf,
I doubt."

"This is dangerous doctrine,--a reflection on our order. We have
prayed daily for the success of the Spanish arms, and although we
addressed the Virgin and all the saints, the statue of St. Francis
is the only one that moved while we were at prayer----"

"With your eyes on the ground?"

"The sacristan saw it. Furthermore, let me tell you that the figure
of the saint owned by the worthy Indian, Alonzo Cuyapit, at his house
in Dilao, was stirred to tears last night."

"Tears! For victory?"

"I fear, for some reason worthy of tears."

"And your imaginations have nothing to do with all this? Men who are
wasted with vigils and fasting"--here the secretary chuckled and made
as if he would nudge the churchman in his ample paunch--"are prone
to see what common men cannot. Though I protest that when I e