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diff --git a/26414.txt b/26414.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a85835 --- /dev/null +++ b/26414.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2264 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fil and Filippa, by John Stuart Thomson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fil and Filippa + Story of Child Life in the Philippines + +Author: John Stuart Thomson + +Illustrator: Maud Petersham + Miska Petersham + +Release Date: August 24, 2008 [EBook #26414] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIL AND FILIPPA *** + + + + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + Fil and Filippa + + Story of Child Life + in the Philippines + + + By + + John Stuart Thomson + + Author of + "China Revolutionized" + "The Chinese" + "Bud and Bamboo" Etc. + + Illustrations by + + Maud and Miska Petersham + + + The Macmillan Company, Publishers + + New York MCMXXIX + + + + + + + + Copyright, 1917, + By the Macmillan Company. + + Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1917. + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + + + + + DEDICATED TO MY LITTLE FRIEND + + FRANCIS DORIS + + BY THE AUTHOR + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + Chapter + + I. Names. + II. Climate, Typhoons, Volcano + III. At Worship + IV. Houses + V. Cocoa and Coffee + VI. Hemp and Sugar + VII. The Coconut + VIII. Indigo; Mango; Guava; Durian + IX. The Forest + X. Minerals + XI. Water Buffalo + XII. Bats; Cattle; Horses; Cats; Monkeys + XIII. Flying Ants; Locusts + XIV. Boats and Fish + XV. Saw Mill; Mudsleighs; Wooden Plows + XVI. Umbrellas; Chairs; Milk-bottle; Milkman + XVII. Home Life + XVIII. Dress + XIX. The "Adios" Feast + + + + +PERSONS + + + Fil, a Filipino boy. + Filippa, his sister. + Favra, her playmate. + Moro, Fil's playmate, a Mohammedan. + Fil's Father. + Fil's Mother. + The Padre-priest. + The Guest. + Driver of the Water Buffalo Cart. + + + + + + +FIL AND FILIPPA + + + +CHAPTER I + +NAMES + + +It took me over a month and a half to reach the summer islands that +I sought. In three weeks I had gone through the Panama Canal and +had reached San Francisco, and in four weeks more I had crossed the +world's widest, most peaceful, and bluest ocean, the Pacific. + +There, like a string of pearls hanging from the golden Equator, +I found thousands of wonderful islands of all sizes, but only two +of them are very large. I found also my new and kind young friends: +Fil; his sister Filippa; Fil's boy playmate named Moro, who came +from the large southern island; their parents and friends; and the +good Padre. Each one of them was shorter and darker than I. Yet they +said to me: "The Stars and Stripes, now our flag also, makes us all +American brothers, which we will be always." + +"But how is it that you are called Filipinos, and live in the +Philippine Islands?" I asked. + +Fil smiled and said: "Though I believe you know without asking me, +I shall tell you to show that I know our romantic and interesting +history. + +"Hundreds of years ago, many years before America became a nation, +the roving Spaniards discovered these islands, and named them the +Philip-pines, in honor of their king Philip. When the American Admiral +Dewey won these islands from Spain, our name was not changed. + +"And our Christian names of Fil and Filippa have the same sound, +and almost the same meaning, as Philippines," added Filippa, her +eyes smiling from under her cloud of beautiful hair,--hair longer and +richer than an American girl's hair,--and eyes darker and deeper than +an American girl's eyes. Perhaps her brows were a little bit flatter, +and her nose was a little bit shorter and wider, than ours; but still +she was pretty, especially when she smiled, for she had beautiful +white teeth. + +Then I turned to Fil's playmate, Moro, and asked him what his rolling +name could mean. Moro was even more eager and darker than Fil. He +replied, as he bravely touched his toy sword: + +"I, too, am of the Malay race, but of a different religion from Fil. I +am a Mohammedan; that is, I reverence the same prophets whom the Turks +worship. I come from the southern islands of the Philippines. There we +spend most of our time roving in boats, and hunting over the hills. The +first white man who met us saw that we were as dark, and had the same +religion, as the tribes of Morocco in Africa. That perhaps is why I am +called Moro, the Mohammedan, whose father fears no man; nor shall I, +when I grow up." + +"But we are all friends now under a new, friendly flag; and we preach +and practice love, instead of fear and fighting," I replied. + +Filippa looked upon me with very happy eyes, when I said this; for a +girl seems to know wiser ways of settling quarrels than do boys. A boy +becomes excited; a girl thinks longer and acts more slowly. Certainly, +Filippa's gentle ways and the expression in her wonderfully deep eyes +had more power with Fil and Moro than would strife and force. + +"Every name seems to have a pretty meaning in your Edenlike +Philippines," I remarked to Filippa's playmate, Favra. + +"Yes," she replied, "the Padre (pa'drai), our pastor or cleric, +who knows so much, tells me that my name means the friendly one who +does favors." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CLIMATE, TYPHOONS, VOLCANO + + +Next day I met the Padre. He was seated on a cane chair under a clump +of whispering bamboos, which are giant grasses as tall and as strong +as trees. + +We had hardly exchanged morning greetings, by saying "Buenos dias +(boo ai'nos de'as)," before we heard the children running along the +white shell path, between the parklike tropical woods. + +"Every one awakens early in this wonderful climate, yet no one seems +to be fully awake," I said. + +The good Padre replied: "We are situated so near the Equator that +the sun rises into full and bright daylight at once." + +"I seem to half dream all day. Is it the balmy warm air, or the scents +of new flowers, or the equatorial sun?" I asked. + +The Padre explained it by saying: "The sun throws more direct rays +here; and they pierce through thin hats, and especially through black +clothes. It is best to wear thick, white paper helmets. Moreover, +our climate is more damp than is America's climate. + +"That is why you feel somewhat dreamy; and that is why everything in +Nature, such as trees, fruits, flowers, ferns, and even animals and +birds, grow so richly; and why the flowers shed influences and perfumes +on the air. It all appeals to the warmth, color, and dreaminess in +your happy imagination. + +"You think of stories of Eden or Paradise perhaps, where one imagines +no hard winter, no bare trees or lawns, no whiteness. Everything is +more beautiful to look upon here. The birds and winds and rains drop +seeds; and at once lavish plants grow up. You will soon become used to +our warmer climate, because you will need to eat less meat and butter, +which is the fuel that keeps you warm. Instead you will eat more rice +and fruit, which will give you strength, without heating you." + +At this moment, our little friend Moro pursed out his cheek and made +a sound like a howling siren or a storm. + +"That noise reminds me of your awful typhoons. I passed through one of +those whirling storms, just as I approached these islands of beauty," +I exclaimed. "Can you explain that great wonder?" I asked. + +"It is God, the Creator's, magnificent but terrible act, such as you +read about in the Book of Job or in the Psalms," said the Padre, who +crossed himself and bowed in piety. The good children, except Moro, +all made the holy sign. + +Then the wise Padre continued: "Like great characters, for a long +time gentle,--like peace which has covered the earth for years,--so, +in our still, summer seas, suddenly in September, everything seems to +contradict and be in rebellion, with a force unknown and unexpected +before,--a force all the greater, because it was accumulating quietly +for many months. + +"The heat becomes unbearable. The winds arise and sweep all one way, +for a time. Then comes the black rain. The heavy typhoon soon begins +to howl and to turn in a circle for two or three days. The wheeling +storm moves from place to place, and finally dies down at sea." + +Filippa inquired: "Why is such a circular storm of the Oriental +tropics, called a typhoon?" + +The Padre explained: "It is a word that we have taken from the +Chinese, who live not many hours away from us, across the water to the +northwest. 'Tai' means great. 'Fung' or 'phoon,' means a wind. These +storms sweep all the way from the Philippine Islands, across the seas +to China. We like the expressive word which the Chinese have given +these wind storms." + +"We have another natural wonder here, the volcano," said Favra. + +"Yes," replied the Padre, "the Taal (Tae'al) and Mayon (Mae y[+o]n') +volcanoes once were smoking and fiery mountains, shaped like a +cone. Years ago fire and lava, which is molten rock that has cooled, +poured from their hot, pointed tops, ran down the sides, and destroyed +everything in their path." + +"What is lava?" asked Fil. + +The Padre replied: "Even a volcano produces some good. This melted +rock, when it becomes cold, forms a light, porous stone, which is +used for polishing. You use it in your bathroom, to rub ink off your +hands. Lava stone is easily ground into powder. When mixed with soap, +this ground lava becomes a useful cleaning and polishing powder." + +"Nature is always useful, as well as grand and beautiful," remarked +Fil's father, who, dressed in a white silk suit and abaca hat, had +just then come up the path. + +"Where did you get that hat?" I laughingly asked Fil's father. + +"I'll tell you some other time. It is made from reeds, woven under +water to keep them damp and pliant. The hat, therefore, is light, +durable, and cool," he replied. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AT WORSHIP + + +When I arose next day and walked to the usual morning seat under the +bamboos, I found only Moro there. + +"Where is everybody else?" I asked. + +"At the Iglesia (ig lai se'a)," replied Moro. + +I knew iglesia was the Philippine word for church; so I said to Moro: +"Let us go there too, and see what they are all doing." + +After we had walked along the white shell paths, past the swaying +fisher boats, over an ancient stone bridge, beneath tall palms +and hanging vines and thick bananas, we beheld a wonderfully carved +doorway, with statues in the niches. Over the tree tops, rose a noble +white dome. From the open windows, the sweet singing of sacred music +came to our ears. It was the well-known Mass or communion music of +our own land, consisting of the beautiful strains of the Gloria, the +Sanctus, and the Benedictus. As we came nearer, the breeze wafted +us sweet incense from the altar, sandal and spice and flower and +cinnamon scents. + +Though Moro was of a different faith, he took off his hat; so did +I. The short Filipino men were dressed in white. The sweet-looking +Filipino women were dressed in wide-striped skirts, and white waists, +with very large collars starched stiff. Over their heads were large +lace shawls called mantillas. They wore no hats, for they were very +proud to show their fine long hair, filled with gold and jeweled pins. + +Every one dipped a finger in the water which was placed in a huge +shell near the door. Then they bowed before the cross on the altar, +which was shining at the end of the long aisle. + +In the front seats, under the high dome, we could see Filippa, her +parents, and Favra. The colored light from the stained glass windows +fell down in rays and clouds of beauty upon the altar boys, who wore +robes of purple and white lace. + +The music of the blue and gold organ was subdued to a velvet +whisper. Suddenly a boy arose behind the carved benches of the +choir. He sang in a voice as clear as a bird's: + + + "Come, Holy Spirit, Come." + + +It was Fil who was singing. The censers were swinging. The organ began +to drown even Fil's clear voice. Then all the singers in the choir +arose and filled the great dome, the long cathedral aisles, and even +the palm grove outside the windows, with a great burst of sacred music: + + + "Holy, Holy is the Lord." + + +It was all very solemn and very sweet. Far richer than in the homeland, +seemed the music, because of the greater natural beauty of the tropics. + +Then our good friend, the Padre, arose, and spoke to his people, +about charity and missions and peace and the stranger within the +doors. He spoke so kindly that we all regretted war, and even hated +the name of war. He asked us to give gifts for the wounded and the +poor in other sad, colder, harder lands of hate and evil. + +Then he extended his hands. A great blessing seemed to flow down from +the pulpit and even from the walls of the holy temple of peace, where +the white altar, the golden cross, and the colored windows shone out +as signs of purity and love. + +When the service was dismissed, we all walked home together. + +"When are you going to be a Christian, little Moro?" inquired the +kind Padre. + +"I am a Mohammedan. My people come from the southern Philippines. We +worship one God, and Mohammed is his prophet. We make converts by +the sword of force, rather than by preaching," replied Moro, his eyes +looking strange and brave. + +"Tell me more about your religion. I have heard it is peculiar," +said Filippa. + +"When we pray, we face Mecca, instead of Jerusalem or Rome. At Mecca +in Arabia is the Holy Book, which we call the Koran. There, also, +is the birthplace of Mohammed, our prophet. We believe in troops of +angels above, as well as in 'jinns,' or spirits, on earth, who are +ready to help us. We have no altars in our mosques or churches. + +"Our mosques are immense, plain structures, with only large Arabic +letters of texts, painted on the walls and ceiling. Five times a day, +the Muezzin priest mounts the outside of the mosque tower, and calls +the faithful to prayer. Each Mohammedan carries his own praying +mat. After placing it on the tile floor beneath the thin pillars, +he kneels and bows upon his mat, facing Mecca, where our prophet was +born. We do not use music or organs." + +All this Moro explained to us. What he told about his religion was +very different, very interesting, very new. + +"There are good things in your religion," said the kind Padre, as he +placed his hand gently on Moro's dark head. + +"You despise the use of intoxicating liquor. You teach the duty of +giving alms and of being charitable to the poor, the unfortunate, and +the sick. You teach that every one is his brother's keeper, and should +help his brother to succeed in life. You teach that cleanliness and +plain living are almost a part of religion. And we Christians agree +with you, Moro, in all these grand ideas; for I think that, with +all the sorrow now in the world, some of us have been too selfish, +too luxurious, as though we thought we would live forever, and had +no duty except to ourselves." + +I, too, felt conscience-stricken for my homeland and for myself, +when I heard, in this odd and different quarter of our large world, +the Filipino Padre's true but kind moralizing over Moro's different +religion. + +"The bells! Oh, the silver-sweet bells!" exclaimed Filippa's mother. + +"The bells of love and peace," replied the Padre, as he glanced back +at the twin towers of his white Iglesia (church) that shone over the +grove of coconut palms. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOUSES + + +"What odd homes! toy houses toppling over from their stilts!" I +exclaimed, as we passed a remarkable village. All the buildings were +set up on poles, and had ladders for their dwellers to climb up to +the high doors. The houses looked as though the lower story had been +washed away, and only the second story remained. Over each window and +door projected a very neat eyebrow, so to speak, either to shed rain +or to keep out the sun. + +"That is our famous nipa-thatch house used by the original Filipinos," +said Moro. "I can explain all about it, for all Moros, and many +backward tribes, use these houses." + +"Tell me everything," I urged. + +"First," said Moro, "there is not one nail in a nipa-thatch +house. Perched high in the air on poles, as it is, you perhaps would +think our typhoons would blow it over, just like a light bandbox." + +"So I would think," I replied. + +"Well," laughed bright Moro, "let me ask you a question. What makes +a pole snap before the rush of a storm? What makes a brick wall give +way before a sudden wind? And why does a tree or a reed bear the +storm easily?" + +"Because the tree and the reed are elastic enough to give a little,--to +bend instead of breaking," I answered. + +"That is just it," again laughed my little Master Moro. "Our small nipa +hut, high in the air, sways a little, but rides out the storm. Every +pole, every beam, and every rafter of the frame, is all made of hollow +bamboo. Bamboo is stronger than steel, because it bends and gives, +and then springs back. There is no nail in the house. Every crosspiece +is tied with rattan, the same vine with which you make cane chairs; +so you know how strong and elastic it is." + +"And of what are the sloping roofs and the side walls made?" I +inquired. + +"Of the famous nipa palm," Moro replied. "It grows in swamps, often +near the sea. It looks like a gigantic fern. Its wide leaves we lap +one over another, and tie them to the bamboo frame by withes of tough +cogon grass." + +"Are you not afraid of fire?" I asked. + +Moro frankly said: "Yes, but as our house is so cheap, we can build a +new one easily. However, in this warm climate we cook in a separate +house, and we bathe out of doors. We do not smoke within our nipa +houses; it is too dangerous." + +"Tell our friend from across the purple ocean how we use the bamboo +and the nipa plants, for other purposes besides building," remarked +little Fil. + +Moro continued: "From the sap of the nipa palm, we distill +alcohol. From the hollow bamboo we make pipes for carrying water. We +boil the tender new shoots of bamboo, and eat them like celery. We +put a stopper into one joint of a hollowed bamboo, and use it for a +bottle. The pliant bamboo root we make into whips. We make bridges, +fences, window blinds, furniture, and carriages out of bamboo. We +even make blow guns and shoot our arrows at birds, through the +bamboo stalk." + +"There are one hundred kinds of bamboo, and a thousand uses for the +plant," added Filippa. + +"I should imagine that the bamboo is the skeleton or the framework, +and that the nipa is the skin of the Philippine structure," I remarked. + +"That is the doctor's way of drawing a figure of speech," laughed +the Padre. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +COCOA AND COFFEE + + +The next morning Filippa's mother refreshed us all with a cup of +fragrant cocoa, so that we might begin the day in good spirits. As +I was sipping it, the Padre remarked in good humor: + +"Did you Americans seize the Philippines merely for a cup of cocoa?" + +I replied laughingly: "This cup of cocoa is so good, that I certainly +would try to seize the Philippines for it." + +Filippa's mother and father both bowed and said I was complimentary, +like a diplomat. + +Then I continued: "I am glad the Philippines are now ours, and yours +too, because our money can help to develop the wonderful tropical +products which do not grow in our colder America. I wish you would +explain something about cocoa and coffee, which we prize very much +and which we send our ships a long way to secure." + +Fil's father, who was a planter of wide acres, replied: + +"The cocoa bean and the coconut are two very different plants. Do not +confuse them. The cocoa bean, out of which you grind cocoa powder and +chocolate for a drink, for bonbons, and for puddings, comes out of a +fruit shaped like a large red cucumber. This fruit grows on a tender +bush, which must be shaded by a thick banana palm. In each fruit are +twenty of these seeds, or cocoa beans. + +"They have hard skins, and are very bitter and stimulating. When +eaten, they excite the heart, and thus make a person feel active +and alive. Soldiers and athletes eat them, to relieve fatigue. As +soon as the fruit is gathered, the beans must be dried in the sun, +or be roasted. The cocoa bean is very oily. To make cocoa, the oil is +extracted, when the beans are ground into a paste. To make chocolate, +the oil is not extracted." + +"I never ate a cocoa bean which was sweet; but a chocolate-drop is +sweet," said Filippa, who had bought chocolate-drops in the candy +stores. + +Her father explained: "We add sugar and vanilla, to the brown cocoa +bean paste." + +"Just think of practically growing chocolate bonbons on a tree, beneath +the window of your nipa huts, in these wonderful Philippine Islands," +I added, and every one smiled. + +"It is really true, when one adds the sugar," remarked the Padre. + +"Now tell me please about coffee, also," I begged. + +Fil's father continued: + +"The coffee comes from another low bush. You choose a hillside, +for, although the plant likes our heavy rains in the Philippines, +it does not like to keep its roots long in water. It wants to drain +them and to feel the warm sun. The leaves are long and glossy; the +blossoms are waxy white. The fragrance is richer than rose sweetened +with sugar. The fruit is like a scarlet cherry; each contains two +seeds. These two seeds are the coffee bean of commerce and of the +breakfast table. They are ground in a small mill, as you know." + +"How were the beans first discovered?" I inquired. + +Fil's father smiled and told this story: "One day a shepherd noticed +that his goats, which had eaten the cherries off a coffee bush, +danced about in high excitement as though they, instead of their +master, were going to a fiesta. Then the shepherd ate the berries, +too, and felt stimulated himself. That is how coffee in time came +to our breakfast table. Instead of eating the berry, we grind it and +steep it, and drink the liquor." + +"But, father, the seeds are light colored, and not deep brown, when +you open the fruit," said Fil. + +"I know," replied Fil's father. "We roast the seeds in an oven, to get +rid of the moisture and to preserve and ripen the stimulating oils." + +"Thank you all;" I exclaimed, "now I will behold a whole tropical +story of geography and commerce, every time I look into a grocer's +window at home." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HEMP AND SUGAR + + +"However, the richest products of our Philippine Islands are abaca +(ab'aca) and sugar," said the fatherly Padre next morning, when I +met him under the shade of the bamboos and the madre trees. + +"I am sure you do not know what abaca is," laughed Filippa. + +"I guess from its name that it may be a cousin of tobacco; it sounds +like it: abaca,--tobacco." + +"Names are sometimes misleading," replied the Padre. "The manila hemp, +or abaca plant, is a nearer cousin of the banana palm. You cannot make +a sail or tie up a bag of potatoes, without using our manila hemp, +or abaca. It is the strongest fiber known; it does not weaken in +water. The great hawsers that are used to pull the great ships, are +made out of it. It all comes from the leaf of this Philippine palm." + +"Wonderful and beautiful and useful islands," I confessed. "But how +do you make a leaf into a cord, a hawser, a sail, or a bag?" + +The Padre continued: "This big plant with leaves taller than a man, +grows on a hill. We do not let it flower. The huge leaves are cut near +the root, and new leaves grow up at once. All through the leaf run +long tough ribs. We drag this over a big rough knife that is fastened +in a board; and thus we scrape away the soft pulp without breaking +the fiber. The wet fibers, we hang over a fence in the sun, to dry. + +"Then we press the fibers all together, and ship them to you in big +heavy bales, in the bottom of a ship. You weave the bales of fiber into +bags, cloth, hawser ropes, canvas, tents, and cordage. We Filipinos, +also, split the fiber and weave it into many kinds of cloth. Sometimes +we mix silk or cotton with the abaca hemp." + +"I am sure our friend would like to learn about sugar," remarked Fil, +who had a sweet tooth for candy. + +Fil's father took up this part of the story, and said: + +"Sugar of course comes from a sweet cane, which is grown on high +land. The cane is cut down. A pony or a water buffalo is harnessed to +a roller. We feed the ripened cane into the rollers. As the animal +drives this roller around, the sugar cane is pressed through. The +sweet juice is caught and put into kettles. This juice is heated +several times, and stirred, and purified by bone charcoal. The white +crystals separate from the dark molasses sirup. We sometimes feed +the molasses to cattle and pigs, to make them fat for market." + +Fil's eyes looked very longingly as he listened to this tale of good +things; so I passed him a penny or two. + +"Is not sugar made also from very sweet, dark beets?" I inquired. + +"Not in these islands," replied the Padre. "We find that the sugar +cane gives a sweeter and a more nutritious product. The beet sugar +is made in Europe and in the western states of America." + +"What do you do with the pressed sugar cane?" I inquired. + +"We spread it out in the sun and dry it in large yards. It still +contains much sugar. We use it for fuel, to light the fires under +the kettles." + +"What a waste!" I exclaimed. "You should use oil or gas for fuel, and +should press every drop of sugar out of that valuable cane. Waste not; +want not, is as good a maxim for a nation as for a boy." + +"If you are always that serious, like a lecturer, the children may +not like you so well," remarked the gentle Padre. + +"Not at all," replied Fil and Moro and Filippa and Favra, who perhaps +remembered the pennies I had given to them. Then I hummed as we went +home to have lunch, or "tiffin," as they call it: + + + "All lectures and no candy or fun + Make Moro and Fil dull boys." + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COCONUT TREE + + +Moro was always up to tricks. I noticed that he was whispering +something to Filippa who was laughing. + +"Tell it out," demanded Filippa's mother. + +"The bad boy said the coconut, which we are trying to break, is a +hairy monkey's head dried." + +"Let me see it," I demanded. + +Surely enough, there was plainly marked a monkey's eyes and mouth +and hair and nose. + +"We'll soon settle this," said Fil, who dashed the coconut on a stone, +broke the hard shell, wasted half the sweet milk,--exposing the white, +fragrant meat. + +"Did you know that the coconut furnishes cloth, mats, roofs, fuel, +soap oil, candy, puddings, cups, dyes, lamp oil, butter, candles, axle +grease, ropes, brushes, furniture, shade, food, drink, and liquor to +intoxicate," asked Filippa's mother, who was as wise as Fil's father. + +"Please go slowly," I remarked, "for you are making me think that +these islands are Paradise; that you touch some button, and every +wish comes true, as in the fairy stories. In our country, a tree +furnishes only lumber; or sometimes nuts or sugar in addition, but +never over two things at once. Now you would have me believe that +one slim tree with only a tuft of leaves at the top, furnishes you +twenty useful and rich products. This is really too much to believe, +though I ask you to forgive me for being so frank." + +Filippa's mother replied: "These are the gardens of the sunny Equator; +and you can, therefore, expect wonderful things. The rough covering +of the shell is woven into mats, brushes, ropes, and bags. The +fibers of the leaves make a fine cloth. The dried leaves make a +roof-thatch. The trunk makes foundation poles. The coconut itself +is fruit and drink. When the white meat is dried, it is shredded +for pastry and candy. When the coconut meat is pressed, the oil +extracted is used for fuel, light, hair pomades, butter, candles, +and grease. It is used also in making the best hand soaps; in fact, +it makes the only soap that can be used with salt sea water." + +"Please let me tell all its other valuable qualities," said Fil. + +"If you cut a coconut in half, you have two cups, or dishes. You can +draw the milk through a small hole, plug the hole, and use the shell +as a float. If you burn the shell, you can make a deep dye from the +ashes,--a dye that will not fade or wash out." + +"I'll tell you more about it," Moro eagerly intruded. "The oddest use +for a smoothed half of a coconut shell, is to use it as a rat-guard, +to shed off rats from our strings of dried fruit hanging from the +roof. As the rat comes down the rattan rope, the halved coconut shell +tips, and down he falls from its smooth surface, to the floor, and +misses the hanging fruit. + +"If you climb up the high coconut tree, and cut a hole in the flowering +stalk, the juice will run out. This is called the delicious 'tuba' +liquor, and we catch it in cups made from half of a coconut shell." + +"And if you ferment and distill that liquor," said the Padre, "you +have the cocoa wine which is much used for medicine in America." + +Filippa's mother then remarked: "I have seen coconut oil, placed +in a coconut shell, burning along a coconut wick, as a lamp, in a +house built out of coconut stems and leaves, under a coconut grove; +and the Filipino family were eating coconuts, and drinking coconut +'tuba' juice, at a table made from coconut stalks." + +"That must have been in Coconutville, when a coconut clock was +striking, under a coconut moon," laughed Fil, who sometimes was full +of smart wit. + +"But what I have said is exactly and solemnly true," replied his +gentle mother. + +"I understand it now," I replied, "and I see how one coconut tree would +make me richer than a whole forest of poplar or oak trees at home." + +Hungry Moro remarked: "I wish that this moment I had coconut shredded +over some Bebinka cakes." + +"What are Bebinka cakes?" I inquired. + +"They are pancakes made from fermented corn and rice dough, +mixed. Every Filipino is fond of them," explained Filippa's mother. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +INDIGO, MANGO, GUAVA, DURIAN + + +"If you will remain in our sunnier Philippines, I'll tell you about +plants and flowers and fruits, that you have never even heard about," +said sunny little Filippa, who herself was as beautiful as a flower, +and as soft to touch as a fruit. + +"Tell about our indigo," suggested her brother Fil. + +Filippa looked very wise, pointed to her indigo skirt, and continued: +"You get your dyes from the benzene of coal tar, but they do +not stand washing or sunlight, as well as our bright and strong +vegetable dyes. We take our indigo plant, and steep the leaves in +water for twelve hours, in a stone tank. Then Fil drains off the +yellow liquor. This soon turns green. Then blue sediment settles in +Nature's wonderful chemical way, under the strong sunlight. We drain +off the water, and cut the indigo cakes into cubes." + +"Very well told," remarked Filippa's mother. "This is a dye which +will not fade. It lasts as long as the gown. Now, Moro, I would like +you to tell about mangoes and guavas and durians; for you are always +eating them." + +Moro laughed, and began to throw sticks up into a tall tree. + +"What are you doing? Why don't you answer?" I inquired. + +"I'm trying to knock down a custard, one foot long and half a foot +deep," he replied. + +"Such nonsense. Custards in my country are made out of eggs and are +baked in ovens," I said. + +"Not this better kind," replied Moro, who brought down a huge fruit, +all covered with sharp spurs and spikes, sharper and harder than +rose-thorns. + +"Nature has kept her rich custard guarded by spikes and by an awful +odor," remarked Fil's father, as he broke open the thick skin with +an ax. + +"But it's worth the trouble," said Moro, who pointed out the heart +of the fruit, which truly was one solid, delicious natural custard, +one foot long,--enough for a whole Filipino family. + +"The monkeys know how to open the spiked fruit better than you do," +said Fil. "They throw them from the high branches. The fruit breaks +open on the ground. Then the wild monkeys race down the tree, and +eat up the custard durian. Who said that a monkey does not think?" + +Everybody laughed at this odd but true tale of the remarkable +Philippines. + +"I know something about guava, for I eat guava jelly with my turkey +and venison at home, but I never knew that it came from the far-away +Philippine Islands. Is it a root or a seed?" I inquired. + +"Oh, no!" replied Moro. "It's a fruit taken from that low tree +over there. The flowers are white. The fruit, shaped like a pear, +is yellow." + +"What makes the delightful jelly red?" I inquired. + +"Perhaps the cooking, or the sugar that is added," suggested Fil's +mother. + +"You have not yet told about mangoes. Please hand our friend one," +said Filippa. + +Moro climbed up and up a dizzy height, into an evergreen tree sixty +feet high. He brought down in his pockets, several fruits as large +as cucumbers, only the colors were red and yellow. + +"Eat one. They are the most delicious and juicy fruit known in the +whole world,--just like wine," said Moro. + +I bit eagerly into one, and at once threw it far away. Everybody +laughed at my strange action. + +"Why, it's turpentine; it's paint," I said. "I didn't think you'd do +this to me, Moro." + +"Swallow it anyway. That turpentine smell lasts only a second," +explained Filippa. + +I tried another mango, and found it to be the juiciest and sweetest +fruit that I ever ate, dripping wine, full of refreshment in a hot +climate, food and drink and medicine in one. + +"What do you do with its large seed, as hard as iron?" I inquired. + +"I'll show you," replied Moro. + +The bright boy at once lighted a fire, and roasted the hard seed +in the ashes. Then he brushed and washed it clean; and handed it to +me, when it became somewhat cool, saying: "Eat it too; it is really +chocolate toast now." + +And such I found it to be. + +"Your mango then is a whole breakfast,--toast, drink, and fruit," +I said. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE FOREST + + +When we all met next morning, again under the bamboo grove, the good +Padre said: + +"If you were lost in your woods at home, you would soon wander and die; +but if you were lost here, you could live for years." + +"Then let us go into such a forest of Eden," I replied, and held out +my hands to Fil and Filippa. + +Away we went down the white shell road across the canal; and soon we +were lost among the many trees, palms, and vines. + +The Padre pointed to the coconut tree and the nipa palm, and said: +"As we already have told you, they would afford you a house, food, +drink, light, and soap." + +"What is this great hard tree?" I inquired. + +The Padre explained: "That's the valuable mahogany. Thin strips of +it are polished, and used to cover the woodwork of your piano and +bureau at home." + +"And this other wonderful, new tree?" I asked. + +"That is the molave. It is so hard that sea worms and white ants +cannot bore into it. So it is good for boats, wharves, and frames +for big buildings," replied the Padre. + +"Here is a pretty tree," remarked Filippa. + +"You should think so," answered her father. "It is the lanete. Its wood +is so strong and pliable, that your violin was made from part of one." + +"Here's a skipping rope," exclaimed Filippa. + +"No, a boat rope," explained Fil. + +"That is really the bejuco rattan vine," remarked the Padre, who +knew botany and the lore of nature. "It is three hundred feet long, +as long as a city block, if you pull it out of the jungle and away +from the tree tops, where it has climbed like a huge snake. We can +use it for bridge or carriage ropes, or we can divide the strands +and make cloth, or hats, or cord out of it." + +"What gorgeous and sweet-scented flowers," exclaimed Filippa, pointing +to a great tree. + +"That is the Ylang," said the Padre. "Our friend uses its perfume +on his handkerchief; but he did not know, perhaps, that the flower +grew in the far-away Philippines. It has the deepest fragrance of +any flower, whether on plant, bush, or tree." + +"What can its strange name mean?" I inquired; for I seemed to have +no acquaintance with nature at all, in this wonderfully different land. + +The Padre, who knew many languages, explained: "It is a Malay word +which means, 'The chief flower of all flowers'; and such I think +it really is. We capture the fragrance by distilling the flowers, +and mixing pure alcohol with the essence." + +"If you were ill in the forest, and caught fever from the mosquitoes +and ants that stung you, the bark of this tree would cure you, just +as quinine does," continued the Padre. + +"Is it the little quinine, or cinchona, tree?" I inquired. + +"No, it is a sister tree. We call it 'Dita' in our language." + +"I said our forests would house and feed you. Now I'll show you +how they would also clothe you. Please show me your handkerchief, +Filippa," said the Padre. + +Filippa handed him a little square of linen cloth, so thin and watery +in color, or absence of color, that I could look through it. + +"In your country, that little handkerchief would be worth twenty-five +dollars. It is woven from the very thin fibers drawn from pineapple +leaves, and is called Pina cloth, or Pina linen." + +Filippa's mother added: "It is finer than silk or hemp linen. We make +our best shiny gowns and laces out of it. Because it is so fine, +it takes a long time to get enough threads to weave and work it +together. The time spent in making it, explains its great cost." + +"I see now why Filippa is promised a Pina gown for our coming feast, +or fiesta day, that you kindly promise to give in my honor before I +go away. It certainly is a cloth fit for a queen," I replied. + +"Oh! when will the feast day come?" Filippa eagerly inquired. + +"Soon," laughed her mother. + +"Here is a more wonderful tree, from the gum of which we make +automobile tires, rubber heels, elastic bands, hot water bags, rain +coats, rubber shoes, hose, and so on," exclaimed the Padre. + +I looked; and surely enough, there was the identical rubber tree +which we see in florists' shops or in the greenhouse at home; only +this tree was larger. Its thick leaves were nearly as large as a hat. + +"We cut a hole in the bark, and, when the yellow gum oozes out, we +boil it down thick, till it is dark colored. Then we mix it with chalk +and sulphur; and behold, afterwards we roll out your automobile tire," +explained the wise Padre. + +"Could you pull the rubber tree out as high as the stars, and would +it snap back again?" asked joking Moro. + +"Stop your joking," replied Fil's mother. "You know very well that the +rubber tree itself is not pure gum, any more than the maple tree in +America is pure sugar. It is the gum of the rubber tree that becomes +the rubber." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MINERALS + + +"It is not only what towers above us, that makes our islands rich. Dig +at your feet, and you will find valuable minerals! Magellan, the +Spaniard, first discovered the Philippine Islands while he was on a +search for gold, though I think a rubber tree, or a bamboo, is more +valuable than gold," said the wise Padre. + +"We get gold in two ways," explained Fil. "We wash it from scooped-up +gravel, and we break it out of rock with a hammer." + +"And how do you melt your iron and copper?" I inquired. + +"We dig coal, and use bamboo pipes and a bellows to make the draft. We +put the ore into a clay kettle, and melt the rock out of it. Then, +when the iron is pure, we heat it again until it is red, and beat it +with hammers into shapes. Thus we make it into wheels, spears, axes, +and so on," explained Fil, who had watched the workmen at their labors. + +"I know little about practical, mechanical affairs; tell me more," +urged Filippa. + +"We have petroleum oil, just as America has; also, lead and paint +ores. We have burnt-out volcano hills, composed of sulphur down into +their deep hearts." + +"That is like a very bad place, way down below, that I have read +about," interrupted Moro; and Fil's mother and the Padre shook their +fingers at him for joking. + +Fil continued: "We have beautiful marble quarries, out of which we can +carve statues and table tops, and tops for seats. Our marble is full +of colored veins just like jewels. Then we also have gypsum mines, +which furnish both fertilizer for land, to make crops grow high, +and plaster of Paris, out of which we make pretty white statues." + +"Wonderful!" I said, "I never thought of all this, when at home I +bought the lovely white statues of lions and birds, from the vendor +man with the basketful, on our street corner." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +WATER BUFFALO + + +We were all so tired when we came out of the wood to the canal, that +Fil's father told us to wait until a buffalo cart came down the white +shell road. + +"A buffalo cart!" I exclaimed. "I'm afraid to ride in that. We used +to shoot buffaloes in our country, and the few now remaining we guard +behind iron fences in zoo gardens." + +"Here he comes!" exclaimed Fil and Moro together. + +"Boys, boys, be careful!" I cried. + +"Let us frighten our guest," whispered Moro. + +The buffalo sniffed at me, a stranger, and would have charged with his +head down; but the man who had a rope tied to a ring in the buffalo's +soft nose, pulled the animal back. + +"Get down, you foolish boy!" I exclaimed. + +But before I could stop him, brave little Moro had climbed up between +the fierce looking animal's thick, long, sweeping horns, which extended +from his large head back to his shoulders. + +"Please get into the cart, everybody," Fil's father ordered, in +a hospitable manner, bowing and waving his arm. It was indeed a +high step. + +The cart had solid wooden wheels, made out of one thick section that +had been cut from a mahogany tree. There was no iron rim around the +edge of the wheel. The sides of the cart, however, were light, as +they were made from bamboo posts with rattan vine woven between them. + +The driver sat on the shafts, and directed the heavy animal, just as +much by words as by pulling the long rope. + +"Why do you call these strong animals water buffaloes?" I asked Fil. + +"Because, to escape the flies and the heat, the animal refuses to work +during the heat of the day, and rushes off into a stream, or into the +sea, to cover himself with mud and sand and water and weeds. All you +can see above the stirred-up water are his large eyes and two wicked +looking horns, which are as thick as a branch of a tree." + +"What an odd tail he has, much like a mule's hairless tail. It looks +like a piece of hose-pipe," I exclaimed. + +Moro, way up on the buffalo's neck, heard me and laughed: "He can't +reach me with his rubber tail." + +"But I'll reach you, Sir, if you don't get down soon from your +dangerous perch," said Fil's father. + +The Padre explained: "We sometimes call these animals carabao. We use +them for plowing, for drawing our sugar to market, for pressing our +hemp mill, for turning our water wheels and sugar rollers, for pulling +the huge logs of hardwood out of the thick forest. When the roads +are too muddy for wheeled carts, we make a mud sleigh with runners; +and the water buffalo with his thick hoofs pulls our loads of rice +bags through the ooze." + +"And we eat him too, though his steaks are tougher than cow meat," +laughed Fil. + +"And we make taws and whips out of his thick hide to correct little +boys, if they have too much to say sometimes," remarked Fil's father, +who winked at me, showing that his words were more severe than were +his intentions or acts. Like the terrier, he just liked to frighten +people; his bark was worse than his bite, as the saying is. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BATS; CATTLE; HORSES; CATS; MONKEYS + + +"Let us stop here," begged Fil. + +The driver, who wore a mushroom-shaped bamboo hat, pulled the water +buffalo to a stop. All, except Filippa and Favra, got off at the +mouth of a cave. + +"I won't go in or near it," exclaimed Filippa. + +"Girls are afraid of real things, of imaginary noises, and even of +unreal shadows," jeered Fil. + +"No wonder, if you refer to this damp cave," remarked Fil's mother. + +Creeping up quietly to the entrance, Fil and Moro threw stones and +oranges and mangoes up to the echoing roof. + +"Lie down quick," shouted Fil's father. + +We had need to stoop, for there was a whirring in the roof of the +cave and over its mouth, like the sound of birds or aeroplanes. + +"What are they, owls or eagles?" I exclaimed. + +"Furry fruit-bats, as large as flying cats," laughed Fil, who was +proud of his secret cave and of his discovery. + +"You don't really mean to say that those large flying things have fur, +and eat fruit?" I asked. + +"Exactly," replied Fil's father. "These are the large Philippine +bats. The wings of some of them are three feet across. Ladies use +their fur to decorate gowns. The bats live on fruit, just as monkeys +do; only the bats eat at dusk, and sleep during the day. That is why +we caught them napping, by going to the cave in daylight." + +"Wonderful country! Wonderful new kinds of life! I notice too that +your cattle have humps on their shoulders," I remarked. + +"Yes," replied Fil's father, "our cattle, though smaller than yours, +have high humps on their shoulders. They are of the Indian and Chinese +breed; not of the English breed. But they are very good animals and +have beautiful soft eyes, which seem to cry and plead for pity. We +use them also to draw our carts." + +"I notice that others of the Philippine animals are also of the +toy order; tiny but lovely specimens, like your spirited but small, +black horses," I remarked. + +"Yes," said Fil's father, "our Malay horses, just like the Chinese +horses, are more like spirited little ponies. They have hard mouths, +but when they know you and are well treated, they obey well. Some day, +when you ride over the hills on one, you will see how sure-footed +they are on the trails; as safe as mountain goats. Your larger horses +would tumble over in those difficult places." + +One of the disturbed bats had settled in a tree. He was clinging upside +down, with his wings folded over his eyes. Up the trunk of the tree, +the oddest kind of a cat was climbing after it. + +"That cat should be a fisherman," I exclaimed in a joking manner. + +"Yes," answered Fil, "some of our yellow cats have odd, hooked tails, +just like monkey tails." + +"Maybe they once hung from tree branches by their tails, along with +the furry monkeys," suggested Moro, who often thought of the odd side +of things. + +"What a gripping tale you are telling," added Fil, who indulged in +roguish puns. + +"Well, our monkeys are as good for men to eat, as for cats," said Moro. + +"Imagination has as much as taste to do with food; and, unless you call +my next stewed monkey dish, deer or lamb, I won't eat it," I remarked. + +Fil and Moro laughed and winked; for they had planned this true but +strange story to make me feel uncomfortable for a minute. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FLYING ANTS AND LOCUSTS + + +We all climbed back into the buffalo-wagon, to go homeward. On the +way, we passed a house which had collapsed in the middle, as though +a great weight had broken its backbone. + +"A blind, flying ant did that," said Fil. + +"Now, Fil, you really think I'm from the backwoods; you wish me to +believe impossible tales," I replied. + +"Not a bit of it," said Fil. "A flying white ant broke the thick +beams of that big building, just as though a mountain fell on it, +or as if an earthquake had rent it." + +"Why, then, did they not stop the ants, the silly, lazy people?" I +exclaimed. + +"Because they couldn't see or hear them," said Fil. "You see, +it happens in this way. Our deadly white ant flies in a cloud of +ants. When he reaches a house, he bores inside; then he is happy. He +feels his way. He does not need to see. He just follows his nose, +so to speak. + +"His sense of smell, perhaps, draws him to the lumber of the house +on which he lives. He does not like air. So, when he reaches a beam, +he and all the other brother ants eat out the heart of it; but they +do not break the shell, which is painted. The people in the house do +not know anything about this, for the ants of course make no noise, +and the painted outside surface of the beam is unbroken. + +"Suddenly there is a strain during a typhoon, or a jar is caused by +some person walking overhead; and down comes the whole house, like +a person whose bones suddenly give way and become powder. The ants +have escaped, because they have eaten the whole beam and have gone +elsewhere for food." + +"Can't you catch and destroy such awful pests?" I asked. + +"Oh, yes! It's great fun," replied Filippa. We place a pail of water in +a dark place, and light a candle which floats on a saucer. The ants fly +to the light. Their wings are burnt off; and, silly, half-blind things, +they all get drowned or wet, so that we can gather and destroy them." + +"They can nip you, too," said Moro, who was slapping at something on +his hand. + +"Some people in the Philippines eat insects--the locusts. They fry them +in coconut oil. Did you ever hear of such a wonder?" asked Filippa. + +"Come to think of it, yes; for in the Bible it says that the food +of John the Baptist, the great prophet, was locusts and wild honey, +when he was in distress in the wilderness." + +"What does _locust_ mean?" asked the wise Padre. Nobody seemed to know. + +"It means leaping," said the Padre. + +"That's how we catch them," said Fil. "Before their wings grow, they +jump. We dig deep ditches and chase them by beating drums, for they +dislike noise. They jump and fall into the ditch, which, however, is +too high for them to jump out of. Then we pour on oil and burn them." + +"If we didn't, they'd eat up all our crops," remarked the Padre. + +"I know a bird that catches them. I've seen it," said Fil, whose eyes +were very sharp, like a boy scout in the woods. + +"What kind of a bird?" inquired Filippa, who loved bird pets. + +"A kind of Chinese ground-lark. It has large eyes and a long bill, +and its feathers are spotted," replied Fil. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BOATS AND FISH + + +We were passing over the bridge that carried the road over an arm of +the sea,--the purple sea, which had a white foam-edge. + +I noticed a boat moving against the tide. It had no engine, no sails, +no rowers at the oarlocks. Only one man was on deck, leaning on a +long pole. He walked slowly from the front to the back of the boat, +still leaning on the long pole. + +"Here's another wonder of your marvelous Philippines--a boat moving +without exerting power," I exclaimed. + +Fil looked at Moro and smiled. I saw that they both pitied my ignorance +in a strange land. Then Fil said kindly: + +"Don't you see the man walking steadily along the running board, +from the front to the back of the boat? Well, he is pushing on a long +pole, and that power moves the boat against the tide. The pole reaches +down to the bottom, through the shallow water. If the boat is loaded, +and if the cargo is very heavy, two men push on each pole. The pole +is a thick bamboo stick." + +"I also notice a curved deck or covering, laid over the boats," I said. + +"Yes, that is a roof, or thatch, made out of nipa palm leaves tied +on to bamboo sticks," Fil explained. + +"Please look!" said sweet little Filippa. "Out there on the purple +ocean is a more wonderful boat still." + +I looked. Oddest of sights! A boat shaped like a long leaf was scudding +before the wind. The one sail seemed to pull the boat over from the +wind. No one was really in the boat. But sitting far out, on a bamboo +out-rigger, high into the wind-side, above the water, a sailor was +balancing the boat and holding the sail by a long rope. Only on one +side of the boat was there a bamboo pole fixed lengthways. It did not +seem to be a well-balanced boat, yet it sailed along at a great speed; +and risky as the sport seemed, the sailor sat perfectly safe on his +high and dangerous looking perch, above the water. + +"What kind of boat is that?" I asked. + +"An out-rigger boat. Some people call it a dug-out boat," replied +Filippa. + +"I'll tell you more about it," added Fil. "The boat itself is half of +a solid log, hollowed out by fire and axe and knife. It is chipped +and scraped smooth on the outside, and the ends are pointed. If the +wind dies down, the sailor has to paddle the heavy boat home. Then +he sits over on the side opposite the out-rigger, so as to balance +it. But when he has hoisted sail, he sits on the out-rigger, as the +sail balances the boat on the sailing side, opposite the wind. The +boat easily rolls over, because it has no sharp keel going down into +the water. But it is swifter before the wind, just because it has no +keel to keep it back." + +"Very clever are your Filipino sailors," I admitted. "Tell me if the +boats are used for other purposes than sport." + +"Oh, yes," said quiet little Favra, Filippa's chum. "The sailors +fish in them and bring us home fish with names as wonderful as are +their colors." + +"Tell me the names, please," I asked. + +Favra slowly thought of three and replied: "The pompano, all silver, +gold, and purple, and as wide as it is long; the fighting barracuda, +so hard to bring in to the boat; and the leaping tuna, that jumps +out of the water and out of the boat perhaps." + +Fil added: "Then there's the bonito, as big as a pig, though its name +jokingly means 'good little one'; the sail fish which lifts its fin +into the wind; and the garoupa." + +"Wonderful names," I admitted. + +"And all wonderfully good to eat," added Moro, who was often thinking +of dinners and feasts. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SAW MILL; MUD SLEIGHS; WOODEN PLOWS + + +"At what are you going to earn your living when you grow up, +Fil?" asked the Padre, who was his teacher, when we all met again +under the whispering bamboos next morning. + +Fil thought a minute, pursed his chest out like a pouter pigeon, +and replied to the great admiration of Filippa, who was a very +loyal sister: + +"I shall be a Senator, or President." + +"Come down from the clouds, Master Fil," replied his father; +"stop dreaming and say something practical. There can be only one +President and only a few score Senators. So if every one had your +aims, millions would starve. Yet millions are working happily, and +earning wages which buy them what they need, if their ideas are not +too selfish. They do not need to bow to wretched, cringing politics." + +"At what do they work?" eagerly inquired Fil. + +"Come and see," said Fil's father and the Padre together. We all +followed. + +"Here's a lumber yard; let us go in," said Fil's father. + +"That man on top of that huge, uplifted log will topple off, and that +man underneath will get his eyes filled with sawdust," I exclaimed. + +"That's our way of sawing lumber," explained Fil's father. "We lift +up one end of the log. One man gets on top and the other man below; +and between them they pull up and down the heavy saw, until half of +the log all feathers out into many boards. Then they raise the other +end, and the men saw down to meet those first cuts, while board after +board falls down." + +"Don't you have round saws of steel, driven by machinery?" I asked. + +"Not always," said Fil's father. "The wages here are so low that +we can afford to hire men to do handwork. This gives many men work, +and keeps them from being idle and discontented." + +"But here is one very round log which they are sawing across grain, +into round wheels; and they are boring one hole into the center," +I exclaimed. + +"They really are wheels for buffalo carts. Don't you remember your +ride the other day?" asked Fil. + +I did remember the heavy, creaking wheel, made of one solid piece +of wood. + +"They never need an iron rim," added Fil's father; "and so are not +as heavy as they look." + +"Why, here's a low sleigh, being made out of bamboo poles, runners +and boards. Do you have winter here after all?" I asked. + +"No, nothing but hottest summer always. But we have much rain, and +our roads are not all paved with rock," explained Fil's father. "If +we used those high wheels on the muddy roads, they would sink so far +down that the buffalo or bullock could not pull out the cart that +was loaded with rice or sugar." + +"So you see, the sleigh slips more easily through the slippery mud," +added Fil. + +"But what if you fell off, a mile from a crossing?" I asked laughingly. + +"Oh, he jokes too, and you don't check him," remarked Fil, who looked +at his father. Fil's father smiled. + +"What is this tough, crooked elbow stick, fixed to a long pole?" I +inquired. + +"A plow," answered Fil wisely: + +"Don't joke. How can you have a plow wholly made of wood?" I asked. + +"I'll tell you," said Fil. "You see our rice fields are flooded and +soft. We do not need a solid heavy steel plow, such as you need in +hard, dry land. The water buffalo, who loves to wade through the +flooded rice fields, easily pulls this bent stick, which plows up +the mud. Then we drain the field and plant the rice seedlings, and +flood the field again, because rice must grow in water." + +"It is a peculiar but lovely Philippines that you live in ; so +different from our country, but perhaps even more charming," I added. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +UMBRELLAS; CHAIRS; MILK-BOTTLE + + +"Please show us an umbrella shop," begged Filippa and Favra together; +for they had been whispering about what they would like to see. + +"This way, then," said her father and the Padre. + +We walked along several narrow streets, which had bamboo blinds hung +between the second stories, so as to keep out the strong sun. + +When we came to a certain door space, which really had no hinged door, +Filippa's father moved aside the dangling ropes, made of glass and +bamboo beads, which hung across the entrance. This made a tinkling +noise, and attracted the workman to the front. + +"We would like to see your umbrellas," explained Fil's father. + +I thought the workman would show us silk or cloth ones, that would +roll up tight. + +"Why, this one is very thick," I said. + +"Lift it. It really is not heavy," explained Fil's father. + +"How is it made?" I inquired. + +"It is made out of split bamboos, which are spread out in a +circle. Oiled silk, or oiled hemp cloth, is pasted over the frame. It +all costs very little," explained Fil's father. + +"But they are so thick, I could not put more than one in my umbrella +stand at home," I said. + +"There you are joking again," laughed Fil, who added: "We Filipinos +hang our umbrella up on the veranda roof, where it is ornamental, +as well as useful when wanted." + +"You see our umbrellas are made in pretty colors," explained Filippa, +who certainly showed that she would become a good housekeeper. + +"Now, would you like to 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 enjoy the feasts +or music. The kitchen and the bath-house are small separate buildings +in the yard, or "azotea" (a tho tai'a). Every one must bathe once a +day at least. + +During the great heat of the day, after lunch, or "tiffin" as it is +called, everyone sleeps a restful hour or two. Therefore visiting +and dinners are carried on long into the night, when it is cooler. + +To keep out the sun, instead of glass, opaque mussel shells are used +in the many little frames of the windows. This makes a pearly, soft +light, like moonshine in the house, even on the brightest, hottest day. + +I noticed that women stood in the streams, and pounded clothes on +smooth, round rocks. + +"That's our way of washing, out in nature's laundry," explained +Filippa's mother. + +When Fil and Filippa were aroused each morning, I noticed that their +mother did not touch or shake them, and I ventured to ask why she +called so long and loud, even though she was standing over them. I +remarked that in our land, a father would soon shake his lazy boy +awake. + +"You shock me," replied Fil's mother. "We in the Philippines believe +that it is most unlucky to disturb the sleeping spirit of a person +by a touch. When the spirit is ready to answer to the call, it is +ready to awake and come back into this world." + +"Why, how superstitious!" I exclaimed, perhaps owing to my lack +of real manners; for good manners should allow for differences on +unimportant things. + +"Not more superstitious than you are, when you refuse to pass under a +ladder, or to begin a voyage on a Friday," Fil's mother answered. Then +I realized that every person, every race, and every nation, and +every color of mankind have their faults as well as their virtues, +weak points as well as strong and good ones. There is something good +in even the worst of us; and, perhaps, something bad in the best of us! + +"I can testify that you Filipinos surpass my people in one thing," +I said. + +"Thank you. What is it?" asked Fil's mother and father together. + +"Respect for parents and poor relations," I answered. "Fil and Filippa +kiss your hand and bow, morning and night. You, though a father and +mother, are also as dutiful as children. You keep grandfather and +grandmother, and poor old relations around the home, where they can +always have a place to sleep, a kind hand near, and can get a bite to +eat anyway, and a tear of sympathy over their sick bed, at the last." + +"By our religion, and by the warmth of our own hearts, we Filipinos +believe it to be a cruel sin to send our parents and relatives to +asylums. God gave us to them at the beginning of life, and God gives +them to us at the end of life," replied Fil's pious mother. + +"What a very, very beautiful saying, and what a beautiful deed!" I +said. + +Fil's grandmother was sitting in a corner of the room. I could see +a tear of joy stealing down her sweet old face. + +We all now rose; saluted each other; and, as we retired for the night, +we each said "Adios" (a de os'), which means "good night" or "good-by," +or really, "To God we commend you." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DRESS + + +The next morning the washwoman was bringing in the clothes. Knowing +that I was a stranger, and would like to bring a true story home to +American boys and girls, Fil's mother asked me: "Would you like to +learn the names and kinds of our garments? You will notice that they +are very different from yours." + +"Certainly I would. I live in a land where some people spend more +time over clothes than over learning, character, good deeds, or the +day's duty," I replied. + +"This large flowing skirt of red, green, or white, is made of cotton, +or hemp; and sometimes a little silk may be mixed in. We like bright +colors, and a long train. No short, tight skirts in our styles," +explained Filippa's mother. + +"How sensible," I remarked. + +"This loose waist or chemisette is sometimes white and sometimes +colored. It is made of jusi cloth, that is, cloth woven from banana +leaf fiber. You see it is softer, thinner, and cooler than your linen +or cotton." + +"It is lovely," I acknowledged. + +"Loose wide collars are in style with you now, but they have always +been in style here. We call it 'panuelo' (pa nu ai'lo). It is our +whitest, thinnest fiber, made from pineapple leaves, just like our +handkerchiefs that I told you about. You see we starch it. It hangs +down the back to a point, and it is very cool and dainty," explained +Filippa's mother. + +"What wide sleeves!" I exclaimed. + +"Yes, sinamei chemisettes, or waists, have very wide sleeves, but are +short to the elbow. We starch them out, so they will be cool and neat," +replied Filippa's mother. + +"I notice that Filippa's hair is worn plain," I remarked. + +"Yes," replied her mother, "we brush the hair back plain; tie a knot or +leave it loose. We like jewelry, and we wear splendid lace mantillas, +or shawls, over the head." + +"What odd slippers with no heels!" I exclaimed. + +"Yes, we all like to have our feet ready to jump into mud or water, +for our roads are not yet good. These slippers are called 'chinelas' +(che nay'las). They have no heel and just a catch to put the toe +in. They have no laces. With them we slide along the ground. But we +cannot back up straight, or run last in them. If we wish to go back +we must turn around, so as to keep our chinelas on our toes. The +young people do not wear stockings in our warm climate, where one +lives close to Nature,--too close sometimes, when the snake bites." + +"But taken all together, what a happy Eden this is for a boy or a +girl," I added. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE "ADIOS" FEAST + + +Next day as we were walking down the road to the good-by feast, +I noticed a crowd gathered in a circle, and stooping over. + +"What are they doing; digging gold?" I asked. + +"No, they are making game-fowl fight," Moro replied. "They wager +money on which will be the winner and put the other to flight. The +boys and men get very much excited." + +"This good-by feast in your honor, before you return home, is called +a 'fiesta' (fe ais'ta)," explained Filippa. "Father and mother and +Fil have spoken to the Padre, and the barrio-elders; and everything +is arranged." + +"But what is a 'barrio'?" I inquired. + +"It means a village, a ward," replied Filippa. + +I could hear bands and orchestras gathering. Here and there were tall +bamboos bent over the paths, and from their arches hung banners and +colored paper lanterns. + +Carromatos (car ro ma' tos), small carriages drawn by little black +ponies, were bringing people in. The men and boys were dressed in +white duck, as though they were going aboard yachts. + +In front of the houses and the Iglesia (church) and convent were hung +flags, festoons, streamers, wreaths, and bunting. + +Flowers and palm leaves were strewn along the path that the procession +would take. + +Then we all started. The procession was led by the bands to the +Iglesia, where, from the high campanile tower, the church bells were +ringing. In the church the good Padre said a few words, and gave us +all his prayers and blessing. + +While we were inside, evening had fallen. When we stepped out into the +square, we saw a fairy starry land. Some one had lighted not only the +lanterns and torches, but the larger southern stars of these tropical +islands were shining brightly overhead. Colored rockets were also +shot up into the night. + +The barrio-saint--really, the small statue of the patron saint of +the village--was carried at the head of the procession. + +Then to the music of the bands, we all marched home to the big upper +hall, and gathered around a wonderful table. Roast pig, chicken, +pheasant; mountains of rice and fruit; candied ginger and mango; +pickled chutney, which is sweet and sour at the same time and also +spiced; coconut and nipa wine; flowers as big as a hat and smelling +as sweet as a bottle of perfume! Sandalwood and spice-incense smoked +sweetly, and nearly hid the good Padre and Fil's father, who sat at +the head of the table. + +The orchestra tinkled all kinds of drums, castanets, bells, fiddles; +many of them having strange shapes and shrill noises. Funny, +fat-cheeked boys were blowing the very life out of the flutes. All +were very happy! + +"Not happy to see you leave, but trying to make you so happy that you +will not have time to entertain regrets to-night. We want to remember +your smiling face," said Fil's father. + +Then the table was cleared and moved. The company all gathered around +the hall. + +Suddenly a hush; then a clamorous call of the orchestra! Then another +hush--Filippa, dressed in silver spangle, and Fil, dressed in scarlet +and gold, suddenly rushed from opposite sides of the hall to do the +love-dance, in which the brave soldier woos and wins his sweetheart. + +They came near each other. She seemed to be coy; to quarrel +sometimes; to beg; to promise. They whirled about; they executed +steps; they snapped castanets. The orchestra sang, whistled, snapped, +strummed. The music flowed in waltzes; it jerked in Castilian measures; +it whispered. It serenaded, while Fil carried a mandolin with a +ribbon. Filippa dropped her handkerchief: Fil gracefully picked it +up. He danced in pleading. He showed all the pretty steps he could +do. As a sign that the soldier had won his lady-love, Filippa at +last consented that he should return the handkerchief, crown her +proudly with it on her cloud of thick hair, and waltz away with her +triumphantly. + +It was a pretty tableau. The orchestra broke out in loud and full +harmony, with now and then a wild Moro yell or shout, from the flutes +and drums. + +How we applauded! Fil and Filippa had to bow their thanks many times, +from the side of the caida (hall). + +Then there was another pause, after the Padre and Fil's father had +whispered. + +Suddenly Moro ran out with a rush, to give a wild Mohammedan dance. + +How strangely he was dressed! He wore tight red trousers, a red and +blue turban on his head, and a tight jeweled tunic, covered with pearl +buttons. His sash was green, dotted with purple spots. He had purple +parrot feathers at his waist and in his turban. + +His feet were bare, as is the custom in his native wilds in the south +island. The round shield that he carried, glistened. He waved two +terrible kriss-knives, with jeweled handles. Over his shoulder he +carried a spear. How he drummed on that shield! He hurled his knives +into the air, and cleverly caught them before they fell. He seemed to +pursue a foe; to crouch like a boy scout; to listen; to follow the +track; to meet the foe; to battle for his life and country. At last +he seemed to conquer with a wild yell, just as he was hurled backward +and his shield was thrown aside. All this, while we held our breath +in excitement, he acted in his strange, barbaric dance, keeping time +with the wind-like, volcano-like music of his native Moro islands. + +The fiesta and the dances were over at last. The dancers and the +guests departed. + +Next morning, as we stood on the coconut wharf waiting for the boat +to come in, Fil perhaps noticed that I looked sad. I saw by his smile +that he was preparing one of his jokes to cheer me up. + +"Father," said he, "may I take our friend back to America, so as to +see that he arrives all right?" + +"Wait till you grow bigger," replied Fil's father. + +"Then don't blame me if he gets lost," laughed little Fil, as he tried +to stand on his tiptoes, and lifted his hand high above his head, +so as to appear as tall as a man. + +After all this courtesy, all this happy, laughing time, in these sunny +summer islands of the purple Philippine seas, it almost broke my heart, +as I left for home, to answer Fil, Filippa, their kind parents, Moro, +the good Padre, and little Favra who were calling from the wharf: +"Adios, amigo" (a de os' a me'go)--"To God we commend you, our friend." + + + THE END + + + + + + Printed in the United States of America. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fil and Filippa, by John Stuart Thomson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIL AND FILIPPA *** + +***** This file should be named 26414.txt or 26414.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/4/1/26414/ + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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