r that that resource of rural
entertainment has no foothold in the Philippines. Dancing was next
in order. The first dance was the stately _rigodon_, which is almost
the only square dance used here. When it was finished and a waltz
had begun, I insisted on going home, for I was tired out. Somebody
loaned us a victoria, and thus the trip was short. A deep-mouthed
bell in the church tower rang out ten slow strokes as I threw back
the shutters after putting out my light. The military bugles took
up the sound with "taps," and the figure of the sentry on the bridge
was a moving patch of black in the moonlight.

The Division Superintendent started inland the next morning to place
the men teachers in their stations, and as he required the services
of the American teacher in interpreting, I was told to go over and
take charge of the boys' school, at that time the only one organized.

I went across the plaza and found two one-story buildings of stone with
an American flag floating over one, and a noise which resembled the
din of a boiler factory issuing from it. The noise was the vociferous
outcry of one hundred and eighty-nine Filipino youths engaged in
study or at least in a high, throaty clamor, over and over again,
of their assigned lessons. When I went in, they rose electrically,
and shrieked as by one impulse, "Good morning, modham." They were
so delighted at my surprise at their facility with English that they
gave it to me over and over again, and I saw that they had intuitions
of three cheers and a tiger.

When I had explained to the teacher that I was there to relieve him,
he explained it to the boys, and they replied with the same unanimity
and the same robustness of voice, "Yis, all ri'!" So he went away,
leaving me in charge of the boiler factory.

It stays in my recollection as the most strenuous five hours' labor I
ever put in. Only two personalities were impressive, those of the pupil
teacher who aided me, and who has since graduated from the University
of Michigan (agricultural department), and of a very small boy who had
possessed himself of a wooden box, once the receptacle of forty-eight
tins of condensed milk, which he used for a seat. He carried the box
with him when he went from one place to another, and more than one
fight was generated by his plutocracy. He also sang "Suwanee River"
in a clear but sweet nasal voice, and was evidently regarded as the
show pupil of the school.

The school was popular