or the office of the _Compania
Maritima_, dreamily smoking cigarettes, sometimes imperiously ordering
the laborers to _"sigue, hombre_!" (get along!) a warning that the
Filipino has grown too familiar with to heed.

Armenian and Indian bazaars, where ivory and the rich fabrics of the
Orient are sold; cafes and drugstores, harness-shops, tobacco-shops,
and drygoods-stores, emporiums of every kind,--are found on the
Escolta, where the prices would astonish any one not yet accustomed to
the manners of the Far East. During the morning hours the _quilez_ and
the _carromata_ rattle along the bumpy cobblestones, the native driver,
or _cochero_, in a white shirt, smoking a cigarette, and resting his
bare feet upon the dashboard. Behind the curtain of a passing _quilez_
you can catch a glimpse of brown eyes, raven hair, and olive-tinted
cheeks, displayed with all the coquetry of a Manila belle. A Filipino
family in a rickety cart, tilted at an impossible angle, are drawn
by a moth-eaten pony, mostly bones. Public conveyances--if these
are not indeed a myth--are most exasperating. You can never find
one when you want it, even at the "Public Carriage Station." If by
chance you come across one in the street, the driver will ignore your
signal and drive on. Evidently he selects this walk in life merely
to discharge the obligations of his conscience, for he never seems
to want a passenger, nor will he take one till he finds his vehicle
possessed by strategy. The gamins of the corner offer eagerly to find
a _carromata_ for you, but they frequently forget the object of their
mission in their search. Sometimes, when you have ceased to think about
a _carromata_, one of these small ragamuffins will pursue you, with a
sheepish-looking coachman and disreputable vehicle in tow. Then twenty
boys crowd round and claim rewards for having found a rig for you;
as they all look alike, you toss a ten-cent piece among the crowd
and let them fight it out among themselves.

The driver will begin by making some objection. He will ask to be
discharged at noon, or he will make you promise not to turn him
over to another _Americano_. When the preliminary arrangements are
completed, lighting his cigarette, he cramps himself up in the box,
and, maintaining a continual clucking, larrups his skinny pony as
the crazy gig goes rocking down the street. The driver never seems
to know the town; even the post-office and the Bridge of Spain are
_terra incognita_ t