ce and skipped some paragraphs. The text returned to San Diego,
and with a long series of exclamations and contrasts the father
brought to a close the first part of his sermon.

The second part was entirely improvised; not that Brother Damaso
knew Tagalo better than Castilian; but, considering the natives of
the province entirely ignorant of rhetoric, he did not mind making
errors before them. Yet the second part of his discourse had for
certain people graver consequences than the first.

He began with a "Mana capatir concristians," "My Christian brothers,"
followed by an avalanche of untranslatable phrases about the
soul, sin, and the patron saint. Then he launched a new series of
maledictions against lack of respect and growing irreligion. On this
point he seemed to be inspired, and expressed himself with force and
clearness. He spoke of sinners who die in prison without confession
or the sacraments; of accursed families, of petty students, and of
toy philosophers.

Ibarra listened and understood. He kept a calm exterior, but his eyes
turned toward the bench of magistrates. No one seemed to pay attention;
as to the alcalde, he was asleep.

The inspiration of the preacher increased. He spoke of the early
times when every Filipino encountering a priest uncovered, knelt,
and kissed his hand. Now, he said, there were those who, because they
had studied in Manila or in Europe, thought fit to shake the hand of
a priest instead of kissing it.

But in spite of the cries and gestures of the orator, by this time
many of his auditors slept, and few listened. Some of the devout
would have wept over the sins of the ungodly, but nobody joined them,
and they were forced to give it up. A man seated beside an old woman
went so sound asleep that he fell over against her. The good woman
took her slipper and tried to waken him, at the same time crying out:

"Get away! Savage, animal, demon, carabao!"

Naturally this raised a tumult. The preacher elevated his brows,
struck dumb by such a scandal; indignation strangled the words in
his throat; he could only strike the pulpit with his fists. This had
its effect. The old woman dropped the shoe and, still grumbling and
signing herself, sank on her knees.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" the irate priest could at last articulate. "It is for
this that I have preached to you all the morning! Savages! You respect
nothing! Behold the work of the incontinence of the century!" And
launched again upon th