Virgin had compassion on them for
leaving the proceeds of their raid, so none was garroted or even
sentenced. Some go so far as to say that the Virgin had nothing to do
with their escape from punishment, alleging that the officers of the
law had conspired with them, and that the Spanish courts were even
worse than those of a land that shall be nameless in respect of their
slowness and the facilities they offered for adjournments, retrials,
and appeals on grounds that if presented in any other cause than that
of a breaker of the law would be laughed to scorn. Filipino bandits
often wear medals of the Virgin and saints to protect them from harm,
and some are made bold by confidence in their protection. It is a
belief of theirs that they will never be punished for any crime they
may commit in Easter week, for the rather obscure reason that Christ
pardoned the thief on the cross on Good Friday.

A curious chapel on a bluff near Pasig, overlooking the river of that
name, has the form of a pagoda. It was built as a thank-offering by
a Chinaman who, having been endangered by a crocodile, and having
called on men and joss without receiving an answer, prayed volubly
to the Christians' God as he swam toward the shore, and promised to
erect a chapel in return for his life. His prayer was answered, for
the crocodile was turned to stone, and may now be seen in the bed of
the stream, while the grateful Mongol kept his word, and also joined
the church.

Bankiva, the Philippine Pied Piper

Of nearly six hundred species of birds in the Philippines the
jungle fowl, or bankiva, is best known, and is both killed and
domesticated. Unlike the dove, it does not understand human speech,
but it has a power over our kind that is exercised by no other
animal. Once a year the spirits grant to it this power of charming,
in order that both spirits and birds may be revenged on men, their
constant enemies. When that day comes the Luzon mother tremblingly
gathers her little ones about her and warns them not to leave their
door, for young ears heed the strange, sweet music of the fowl's voice,
which grown people cannot hear. On that day the bird sings with a
new note, and the flock of bankivas choose the largest, handsomest
of their number to lead the march of children. On the edge of the
village he gives his song, and every toddler runs delightedly to see
what causes the music. Babes respond with soft, cooing notes, and will
go on hands