or lawns, no whiteness. Everything is
more beautiful to look upon here. The birds and winds and rains drop
seeds; and at once lavish plants grow up. You will soon become used to
our warmer climate, because you will need to eat less meat and butter,
which is the fuel that keeps you warm. Instead you will eat more rice
and fruit, which will give you strength, without heating you."

At this moment, our little friend Moro pursed out his cheek and made
a sound like a howling siren or a storm.

"That noise reminds me of your awful typhoons. I passed through one of
those whirling storms, just as I approached these islands of beauty,"
I exclaimed. "Can you explain that great wonder?" I asked.

"It is God, the Creator's, magnificent but terrible act, such as you
read about in the Book of Job or in the Psalms," said the Padre, who
crossed himself and bowed in piety. The good children, except Moro,
all made the holy sign.

Then the wise Padre continued: "Like great characters, for a long
time gentle,--like peace which has covered the earth for years,--so,
in our still, summer seas, suddenly in September, everything seems to
contradict and be in rebellion, with a force unknown and unexpected
before,--a force all the greater, because it was accumulating quietly
for many months.

"The heat becomes unbearable. The winds arise and sweep all one way,
for a time. Then comes the black rain. The heavy typhoon soon begins
to howl and to turn in a circle for two or three days. The wheeling
storm moves from place to place, and finally dies down at sea."

Filippa inquired: "Why is such a circular storm of the Oriental
tropics, called a typhoon?"

The Padre explained: "It is a word that we have taken from the
Chinese, who live not many hours away from us, across the water to the
northwest. 'Tai' means great. 'Fung' or 'phoon,' means a wind. These
storms sweep all the way from the Philippine Islands, across the seas
to China. We like the expressive word which the Chinese have given
these wind storms."

"We have another natural wonder here, the volcano," said Favra.

"Yes," replied the Padre, "the Taal (Tae'al) and Mayon (Mae y[+o]n')
volcanoes once were smoking and fiery mountains, shaped like a
cone. Years ago fire and lava, which is molten rock that has cooled,
poured from their hot, pointed tops, ran down the sides, and destroyed
everything in their path."

"What is lava?" asked Fil.

The Padre replied: "Even a volcano produces