which remind you of the mantel that you fit over
the gas jet; seashells that had been washed up, appropriately branded
"Souvenir of Cebu;" tortoise-shell curios from Nagasaki, and an album
of pictures from Japan. The floor was polished every morning by the
house-boys, and the furniture arranged in the most formal manner,
_vis-a-vis_.

The _senorita_ Rosario, the sister-in-law of the proprietor, came in
to entertain me presently, dressed in a bodice of blue _pina_, with the
wide sleeves newly starched and ironed, and with her hair unbound. She
sat down opposite me in a rocking-chair, shook off her slippers on the
floor, and curling her toes around the rung, rocked violently back and
forth. She punctuated her remarks by frequent clucks, which, I suppose,
were meant to be coquettish. Her music-teacher was expected presently;
so while I wrote a letter on her _escritorio_, the _senorita_ smoked
a cigarette upon the balcony. The _maestro_ came at last; a little,
pock-marked fellow, dapper, and neatly dressed, his fingers stained
with nicotine from cigarettes. Together they took places at the
small piano, and I could see by their exchange of glances that the
music-lesson was an incidental feature of the game. They sang together
from a Spanish opera the song of Pepin, the great braggadocio, of whom
't is said, when he goes walking in the streets, "the girls assemble
just to see him pass."

"Cuando me lanzo a calle
Con el futsaque y el cla,
Todas las ninas se asoman
Solo por ver me pasar:
Unas a otras se dicen
Que chico mas resa lao!
De la sal que va tirando
Voy a coher un punao."

When the music-teacher had departed, the _senorita_ leaned out of
the balcony, watching the crowd of beggars in the street below. Of
all the beggars of the Orient, those of Cebu are the most clinging
and persistent and repulsive. Covered with filthy rags and scabs,
with emaciated bodies and pinched faces, they are allowed to come
into the city every week and beg for alms. Their whining, "_Da mi
dinero, senor, mucho pobre me_" ("Give me some money, sir, for I am
very poor"), sounds like a last wail from the lower world.

It was at Iloilo that we took a local excursion steamer across to
the _pueblo_ of Salai, in Negros. It was a holiday excursion, and the
boat was packed with natives out for fun. There was a peddler