see a chair-shop, where they use no saw or
plane or nails?" asked Fil.

"It seems nonsense, because our chairs at home are sawn from oak logs;
and they are so filled with tacks and nails that they tear my clothes,"
I replied.

"Around this corner," said Fil, who was proud to lead the way.

Surely enough, Filipino workmen were tying lengths of bamboo poles
together, with tough rattan vine, for the frame of a chair. The back
was made of laced rattan and grasses. The seat was made of split
bamboo, round side up, and all was as smooth, restful, light, and
pliable as could be wished; and not a dangerous nail nor a saw used
to make it.

"You can throw these chairs about. They never break, because they
give way a little, like a spring. They are elastic, yet strong,"
explained Fil's father.

"And they cost only a few cents," added the Padre.

"We don't care when they burn up," remarked Fil, who received from
his father a stern look, and the order not to joke too much.

As we walked home, we passed a man who carried a bamboo over one
shoulder. At one end of the pole hung a thick piece of hollow
bamboo. At the other end of the pole hung an earthenware jug, tied
in a net of rattan. Behind him followed a herd of goats.

"Fresh milk and bottled milk for children," he cried.

"What is he, a curio seller?" I asked.

"No, a milkman," answered Fil. "The bamboo jug is a pint measure. The
earthen bottle holds the milk. And if you want fresh, warm milk for
the baby, he will milk it here from one of his nibbling goats, right
into the bamboo jug."

"Always fresh milk!" shouted the vendor, as with his fingers, he made
a snapping sound to call his herd of goats.

"Really, a walking dairy," I remarked.

CHAPTER XVII

HOME LIFE

We were all tired when we reached home. The Angelus bell was sounding
from the high white tower of the Iglesia. Every one stood still,
bowed, made the holy sign, and then said a quiet prayer.

After a late dinner, Fil and Filippa as usual kissed the hands of
their parents, bowed to them, and retired.

I thought how dutiful a custom this was, and I recalled how, in my
own country, too many rude, selfish children, full of conceit, have
little respect for their parents, and really attempt to order their
elders around. The Filipino boy seems to know his place, as a boy.

The grander Philippine houses, on the second floor, have a large hall
called the "caida" (ca e'da). Here every one meets to