profanity, and they would shock the Filipinos by
omitting bathing-suits when in the surf. They used to frighten the
poor "niggers" half to death by trying to break through their houses
on a dark night. Yet I believe that every Filipino was the soldier's
friend, and I am sure I noticed not a few heart-broken _senoritas_
gathered at the shore when they departed. For my own part, I have
always found the soldier generous, respectful, and polite.

There was a great wag in the company, who, in some former walk of
life, had figured as a circus clown. He also claimed to have been
upon the stage in vaudeville. He had enlisted in the regimental band,
but, through some change, had come to be bugler of M Company. He
owned a mandolin, called the "potato bug"--a name suggested by the
inlaid bowl. He had brought back to life a cracked guitar, which
he had strung with copper wire obtained by "jawbone" at the _Chino_
store. It was an inspiration when he sang to the guitar accompaniment,
"Ma Filipino Babe," or in a rich and melancholy voice, with the
professional innuendo, "just to jolly the game along," a song entitled
"Little Rosewood Casket."

It is a sorry company that doesn't number in its roll a poet. Company
M had a good poet. Local customs and the local atmosphere appealed
to him, and he has thus recorded his impression of the Philippines:

"There once was a Philippine _hombre_;
Ate _guinimos_, rice, and _legombre_;
His pants they were wide,
And his shirt hung outside;
But this, you must know, is _costombre_.

He lived in a _nipa balay_
That served as a stable and sty.
He slept on a mat
With the dog and the cat,
And the rest of the family near by.

He once owned a _bueno manoc_,
With a haughty and valorous look,
Who lost him amain
And _mil pesos tambien_,
And now he plays _monte_ for luck.

This poem was received so favorably that the following effort of the
realistic school escaped:

"In this land of dhobie dreams,
Happy, smiling Philippines,
Where the bolo man is hiking all day long,
Where the natives steal and lie,
And _Americanos_ die,
The soldier sings his evening song.

Social wants are small and few;
All the ladies smoke and chew,
And do other things they ought to know are wrong.