hearts, we Filipinos
believe it to be a cruel sin to send our parents and relatives to
asylums. God gave us to them at the beginning of life, and God gives
them to us at the end of life," replied Fil's pious mother.

"What a very, very beautiful saying, and what a beautiful deed!" I
said.

Fil's grandmother was sitting in a corner of the room. I could see
a tear of joy stealing down her sweet old face.

We all now rose; saluted each other; and, as we retired for the night,
we each said "Adios" (a de os'), which means "good night" or "good-by,"
or really, "To God we commend you."

CHAPTER XVIII

DRESS

The next morning the washwoman was bringing in the clothes. Knowing
that I was a stranger, and would like to bring a true story home to
American boys and girls, Fil's mother asked me: "Would you like to
learn the names and kinds of our garments? You will notice that they
are very different from yours."

"Certainly I would. I live in a land where some people spend more
time over clothes than over learning, character, good deeds, or the
day's duty," I replied.

"This large flowing skirt of red, green, or white, is made of cotton,
or hemp; and sometimes a little silk may be mixed in. We like bright
colors, and a long train. No short, tight skirts in our styles,"
explained Filippa's mother.

"How sensible," I remarked.

"This loose waist or chemisette is sometimes white and sometimes
colored. It is made of jusi cloth, that is, cloth woven from banana
leaf fiber. You see it is softer, thinner, and cooler than your linen
or cotton."

"It is lovely," I acknowledged.

"Loose wide collars are in style with you now, but they have always
been in style here. We call it 'panuelo' (pa nu ai'lo). It is our
whitest, thinnest fiber, made from pineapple leaves, just like our
handkerchiefs that I told you about. You see we starch it. It hangs
down the back to a point, and it is very cool and dainty," explained
Filippa's mother.

"What wide sleeves!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, sinamei chemisettes, or waists, have very wide sleeves, but are
short to the elbow. We starch them out, so they will be cool and neat,"
replied Filippa's mother.

"I notice that Filippa's hair is worn plain," I remarked.

"Yes," replied her mother, "we brush the hair back plain; tie a knot or
leave it loose. We like jewelry, and we wear splendid lace mantillas,
or shawls, over the head."

"What odd slippers with no heels!" I exclaimed.

"Yes,