ction against Moro pirates--stands
half hidden among creeping vines. The nets are floated upon husks
of cocoanut, and set in the wild light of burning rushes. While the
men are working in the tossing sea, or venturing almost beyond sight
of land, the women, lighting torches, wade out to the coral reef and
seine for smaller fish among the rocks. Early the following morning,
while the sea is gray, the fishermen will toss their catch upon the
sand. The devil-fish are the most popular at the impromptu market,
where the prices vary according to the run of luck.

The town was laid out by the Spaniards in the days when Padre Pedro
was the autocrat and representative of Spanish law. The ruins of
the former mission and the public gardens are now overgrown with
grass. Sea-breezes sweep the rambling convent with its double walls,
tiled courtyard, and its Spanish well. The new church, never to be
finished, but with pompous front, illustrates the relaxing power
of Rome. Goats, carabaos, and ponies graze on the neglected plaza
shaded with widespreading camphor-trees. The two school buildings
bearing the forgotten Spanish arms are on the road to ruin and decay;
no signs of life in the disreputable _municipio_; the _presidente_
probably is deep in his _siesta_, and the solitary guard of the
_carcel_ is busily engaged in conversation with the single prisoner.

The only remains of Spanish grandeur in the village are the two
ramshackle coaches that are used for hearses at state funerals. Most
of the larger houses are, however, in repair, although the canvas
ceilings and the board partitions seem to be in need of paint. These
houses occupy the center of the town. They are of frame construction,
painted blue and white. The floors are made of rosewood and mahogany;
the windows fitted with translucent shell. Storehouses occupy the
first floor, while the living rooms are reached by a broad flight
of stairs. A bridge connects the dining-room with the kitchen,
where the greasy cook, often a Moro slave, works at a smoky fire of
cocoanut-husks on an earth bottom, situated in an annex to the rear.

A walk through the main street leads past a row of native houses, built
on poles and shaded by banana-trees. You are continually stepping over
mats spread out and covered with pounded corn, while pigs and chickens
are shooed off by the excitation of a piece of _nipa_, fastened to a
string and operated from an upper window of the house. A small _tienda_