We had, at one time, a peace society formed, there was an attendance of all the women of Jaro, some from Iloilo, and the President was chosen from Molo. I took pleasure in joining this society for the maintenance of peace and fraternal feeling with the Filipinos.

One day I thought it my duty to call upon the President of the new peace commission. She lived in the town of Molo. I invited a native woman to accompany me, and secured a guard of soldiers and an interpreter. Such a commotion as the visit created. The interpreter explained that I had called to pay my respects, as I was the only American woman who had joined the peace society. The President was pale with fright at my coming, though I had with me a woman whom she knew very well. After she had recovered from the shock, we had a very agreeable time. She called in some of her family; one daughter played well on the piano, a large grand, and another played upon the violin. In the meantime refreshments were served in lavish profusion. They offered me very handsome cloths and embroideries, which I declined with thanks. It is a common custom to make presents.

I had agreed with this Filipino friend to exchange views on points of etiquette and social manners. She told me that I had committed quite a breach of propriety in allowing the interpreter, who was a soldier, to ride on the front seat of the carriage; that it would become known everywhere that she and I actually had a man ride with us. It is not customary for even husbands and wives to drive together. My criticism was, "We do not like the manner of your ladies expectorating. In America we consider it a very filthy and offensive habit." She was quite surprised that we were so very particular and asked me if we chewed the spittle.

A large cathedral was situated just across the street, a circumstance that enabled me to witness many ceremonies of the Roman church, of whose existence I had no previous knowledge; daily services were held, and all the Saints' days were observed. On festivals of especial importance there were very gorgeous processions. The principal features were the bands of music, the choir, acolytes, priests, and rich people,—the poor have no place—all arrayed in purple and fine linen; gold, silver, pearls, and rare jewels sparkled in the sun by day, or, at night, in the light of the candles and torches carried by thousands of men, women and children.

It was a trying experience to be awakened from sound sleep by the firing of guns. It was necessary to be always armed and ready to receive the "peaceful people." (We read daily in the American papers that all danger was over.)

A characteristic feature of each town is a plaza at its center, and here the people have shrines or places of worship at the corners, the wealthier people, only, having them in their homes.

Smallpox is a disease of such common occurrence that the natives have no dread of it; the mortality from this one cause alone is appalling. This brings to mind the funeral ceremony, which, since the natives are all Catholics, is always performed by the padre or priest.

In red, pink, or otherwise gayly decorated coffin, the corpse, which is often exposed to view and sometimes covered with cheap paper flowers, bits of lace and jewelry, is taken to the church, where there are already as many as five or six bodies at a time awaiting the arrival of the priest to say prayers and sprinkle holy water upon them. If the family of the deceased is too poor to buy or rent a coffin, the body is wrapped in a coarse mat, slung on a pole, and carried to the outer door of the church, to have a little water sprinkled thereon or service said over it. If the families are unable to rent a spot of earth in the cemetery, their dead are dumped into a pile and left to decay and bleach upon the surface. In contrast with this brutal neglect of the poor, is the lavish expenditure of the rich. The daughter of one of the wealthy residents having died, the body was placed in a casket elaborately trimmed with blue satin, the catafalque also was covered with blue satin and trimmed with ruffles of satin and lace. In the funeral procession, the coffin was carried on the shoulders of several young men, while at the sides walked young ladies, each dressed in a blue satin gown with a long train and white veil, and each lavishly decorated with precious jewels. They held long, blue satin ribbons fastened to the casket. At the door of the church the casket was taken in charge by three priests, attended by thirty or forty choir boys, acolytes, and others, and placed upon a black pedestal about thirty feet high and completely surrounded by hundreds of candles, many of which were held in gilded figures of cherubim; the whole was surmounted by a flambeau made by immersing cotton in alcohol. The general effect was of a huge burning pile. Incense was burned every where in and about the edifice, which was elaborately decorated with satin festoons, palms, artificial flowers, emblems wrought in beads, all in profusion and arranged with native taste. All this, with the intonation of the priests, the chanting of the choir, and the blaring of three bands, made a weird and impressive scene never to be forgotten. After the ceremony, which lasted about an hour, the body was taken to the cemetery, and, as it was by this time quite dark, each person in the procession carried a torch or candle. I noticed quite a number of Chinese among the following, evidently friends, and these were arrayed in as gorgeous apparel as the natives. The remains having been disposed of, there was a grand reception given in the evening in honor of the deceased.

It is customary to have a dance every Sunday evening, and each woman has a chair in which she sits while not dancing. The priests not only attend, but participate most heartily.

I was told that among the papers captured in Manila was a document which proved to be the last bull issued by the Pope to the King of Spain (1895 or 96). This was an agreement between the Pope and the King, whereby the former conveys to the latter the right to authorize the sale of indulgences. The King, in turn, sold this right to the padres and friars in the islands. Absolution from a lie cost the sinner six pesos, or three dollars in gold; other sins in proportion to their enormity and the financial ability of the offender. The annual income of the King of Spain from this system has been estimated at the modest figure of ten millions.

The discovery of this and other documents is due to a party of interpreters who became greatly fascinated by the unearthing process. In the same church in which these were found, the men investigated the gambling tables and found them controlled and manipulated from the room below by means of traps, tubes, and other appliances. An interesting fact in this connection is that one of the interpreters was himself a Romanist, and loath to believe his eyes, but the evidence was convincing, and he was forced to admit it. Gambling is a national custom, deeply rooted.

I shall never forget the joy I experienced when we got two milch cows. What visions of milk, cream, and butter,—fresh butter, not canned; then, too, to see the natives milk was truly a diversion; they went at it from the wrong side, stood at as great a distance as the length of arms permitted, and in a few seconds were through, having obtained for their trouble about a pint of milk—an excellent milk-man's fluid—a blue and chalky mixture.

One day I heard what seemed to be a cry of distress, half human in entreaty, and I rushed to see what could be the matter. There, on its back, was a goat being milked; there were four boys, each holding a leg, while the fifth one milked upward into a cocoanut shell. It was a ludicrous sight.

One of their dainties is cooked grasshoppers, which are sold by the bushel in the markets. I cannot recommend this dish, for I never was able to summon sufficient courage to test it, but I should think it would be as delectable as the myriad little dried fish which are eaten with garlic as a garnish and flavor.

The poor little horses are half starved and otherwise maltreated by the natives, who haven't the least idea of how to manage them. They beat them to make them go, then pull up sharply on the reins which whirls them round and round or plunges them right and left, often into the ditches beside the road. It was no uncommon sight to see officers or men getting out of their quielas to push and pull to get the animal started, only to have the driver whip and jerk as before.

Some of the natives bought the American horses and it was painful to see them try to make our noble steeds submit to methods a la Filipino.

Beggars by the thousand were everywhere, blind, lame, and deformed; homeless, they wandered from town to town to beg, especially on market days. One blind woman, who lived on the road from Iloilo to Jaro, had collected seventy-five "mex," only to have it stolen by her sister. Complaint was made to the military commander, but it was found that the money had been spent and that there was no redress to be had. She must continue to beg while her sister lived hard by in the new "shack" which she had built with the stolen "denaro" (money).

About three miles from Jaro was quite a leper colony, shunned, of course, by the natives. During confession, the lepers kneeled several rods away from the priests. I saw one poor woman whose feet were entirely gone lashed to a board so she could drag herself along by the aid of her hands, which had not yet begun to decay.

There were no visible means of caring for the sick and afflicted; the insane were kept in stocks or chained to trees, and the U. S. hospitals were so overtaxed by the demands made upon them by our own soldiers that little space or attention could be spared to the natives. Charity begins at home.

God bless the dear women who nursed our sick soldiers; it was my pleasure to know quite intimately several of these girls who have made many a poor boy more comfortable. I am proud, too, of our U. S. Army; of course not all of the men were of the Sunday School order, but under such great discomforts, in such deadly perils, and among such treacherous people, nothing more can be expected of mortal men than they rendered. Many poor boys trusted these natives to their sorrow. They accepted hospitality and their death was planned right before their eyes, they, of course, not understanding the language sufficiently to comprehend what was intended. They paid the penalty of their trust with their lives.

On Decoration Day we were able to make beautiful wreaths and crosses. Our soldiers marched to the cemeteries and placed the flowers on the graves of the brave boys who had given their lives in defence of the flag. I had the pleasure of representing the mothers, whose spiritual presence was, I felt sure, with those far-away loved ones. An officer has written me that Memorial Day was again observed this year, and I am sure it was done fittingly.

A Protestant mission was established at Jaro, in a bamboo chapel, pure bamboo throughout, roof, walls, windows, seats, floor. The seats, however, were seldom used, for the natives prefer to squat on the floor. The congregation consisted of men, women, and children, many of whom came on foot from a distance of twenty or more miles, the older people scantily clad, and the children entirely naked; a more attentive audience would be hard to find, as all were eager to get the "cheap religion." None of the inhabitants of Jaro attend, as yet; they fear to do so, since they are under the strict surveillance of the padre, and are in the shadow of the seminary for priests, the educational center of the island of Panay.

The Protestant minister is a graduate of this institution and is subject to all imaginable abuses and insults. Under his teachings, a great many have been baptized, who seemed devoutly in earnest; it is inspiring to hear them sing with great zeal the familiar hymns, "Rock of Ages," "Safe in the Arms of Jesus," etc. One incident will suffice to illustrate the intense and determined opposition to Protestantism. One of the native teachers was warned not to return to his home, but, in defiance of all threats, he did so, and was murdered before the eyes of his family. I shall expect to hear that many other missionaries have been disposed of in a similar manner, after the withdrawal of the American troops.

Many ask my opinion as to the value of these possessions; to me they seem rich beyond all estimate. A friend whom I met there, a man who has seen practically the whole world, said that, for climate and possibilities, he knew of no country to compare with the Philippines.

The young generation is greedy for knowledge and anxious to progress, though the older people do not take kindly to innovations, but cling to their old superstitions and cruelties. God grant the better day may come soon.

There was quite an ambition among the natives to be musical; they picked up quickly, "by ear," some of the catchy things our band played. When I heard them playing "A Hot Time in the Old Town To-night," on their way to the cemetery, I could not restrain my laughter, and if the deceased were of the order of Katapunan the prophecy was fulfilled. Officers informed me that this society was probably the worst one ever organized, more deadly than anarchists ever were. It was originated by the Masons, but the priests acquired control of it and made it a menace to law and order. I should not have escaped with my life had it not been for one of the best friends I have ever known, a "mestizo," part Spanish and part Filipino. She undoubtedly saved my life by declaring that before anything was done to me she and her husband must be sacrificed. "Greater love hath no man than this." They were influential people throughout the islands, and nothing occurred.



ISLANDS CEBU AND ROMBLOM.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

The various islands seemed to have their own peculiarities. Cebu is famous for vast quantities of Manila hemp; also for shell spoons; these are beautiful, of various sizes, and colors, according to the shell they are cut from. They are especially appropriate in serving fish. The abaka-cloth of this island is the finest made, and its pearl fisheries are valuable. In 1901 a lively insurrection was going on in Cebu. The banks of the bay were lined with refugees who had come from the inland to be protected from their enemies. There were hundreds of them, but not a single cooking utensil amongst them. Some would go up to the market place and buy a penny's worth of rice skillfully put up in a woven piece of bamboo. And lucky for them if they had the penny. The rest spent their time fishing.

The cathedral of Cebu, built of stone, is especially fine. It has for its Patron Saint, a babe, Santa Nina. The story is that at one time there were a great many babies stricken with a malady; the parents vowed if the Holy Mother would spare their children they would build this cathedral.

One of the largest prisons is at Cebu. We were shown many of the dungeons; there were then confined within those walls many very bad Insurrectos.

As we were eager to visit one of the large estates, we were given a heavy guard and went inland about two miles from the port; it was certainly a fine plantation, much better kept than any I had ever seen before. We were apparently cordially received, and were assured if we would only stay we could partake of some of the family pig, that was even then wandering around in the best room in the house.

The floor of the large reception room was polished as perfectly as a piano top; its boards were at least eighteen inches wide and sixteen to twenty feet long. I asked several persons the name of this beautiful place, but could not find out. On the sideboard were quantities of fine china and silver that had been received only a few days before from Spain, there was a large grand piano, and there were eight or ten chairs in the center of the room forming a hollow square. Here we were seated and were offered refreshments of wine, cigars and "dulce." While this place seemed isolated it was not more than ten minutes before we had a gathering of several hundred natives, indeed our visit was shortened by the fear that we might be outnumbered and captured, and so we hastened back to quarters.

While all the islands are tropical in appearance, Cebu is pre-eminently luxuriant. We were sorry not to stay longer and learn more of its people and its industries.

Romblom is considered by many the most picturesque of the islands. The entrance is certainly beautiful; small ships can come up to the dock. The town itself is on the banks of a wonderful stream of water that has been brought down from the hills above. There is a finely constructed aqueduct that must have cost the Spaniards a great deal of money, even with cheap labor. It is certainly a very delightfully situated little town. This place is famous for its mats; they are woven of every conceivable color and texture, and are of all sizes, from those for a child's bed to those for the side of a house. The edges of some mats are woven to look like lace, and some like embroidery. They range in price from fifty cents to fifty dollars. Every one who visits Romblom is sure to bring away a mat.

On every island much corn is raised, perhaps for export; certainly the staple is rice. Quite a number of young men who were officers in our volunteer regiments, have located on the island of Guimeras, and I have no doubt that, with their New England thrift, they will be able to secure magnificent crops. The soil is amazingly rich; under skilled care it will produce a hundred fold. Many of the islands are so near to one another that it is an easy matter to pass from island to island.



LITERATURE.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

In no house of any town, on any island, nor in the very best houses of the so-called very best families, did I ever see any books, newspapers, magazines, periodicals of any kind whatever. One woman triumphantly took out of a box a book, nicely folded up in wax paper, a history of the United States, printed in 1840. In a lower room of a large house, once a convent, but now occupied by two or three priests, there were perhaps four or five hundred books written in Spanish and Latin on church matters. One reason for the dearth of books is the difficulty of protecting them from the ravages of the ants. We found to our horror that our books were devoured by them. And then the times were troublous and things were out of joint. In the large seminary at Molo, where hundreds of girls are taught every year, I did not see a single book of any kind or any printed matter, except a few pamphlets concerning the Roman church. The girls work on embroideries, and surely for fineness they surpass all others. They do the most cobweb-like drawn work, and on this are wrought roses, lilies, and butterflies with outspread wings that look as if they had just lighted down to sip the nectar from the blossoms; these very fine embroideries are done on the pina cloth. It is no wonder that the people would get even the advertisements on our canned goods and ask any American whom they met what the letters were and what the words meant. Our empty cans with tomato, pear, peach labels were to them precious things. Whereever our soldiers were, the adults and the children crowded around them and impromptu classes were formed to spell out all the American words they could find; even the newspaper wrappers and the letter envelopes, that were thrown away, were carefully picked up so as to glean the meaning of these "Americano" words. There was near our quarters a very large building that was used for the education of boys; one can form some idea of the size of this building when two or three regiments were encamped there with all their equipments.

There may have been books here, once, but nothing was left when our troops occupied it except a few pictures on the walls, a few tables and desks, a few chairs and sleeping mats.

There was a little story in connection with the bell tower on one side of the plaza in Jaro; this tower was about eighty feet high, had a roof and niches for seven or eight good sounding bells. From the top of this tower one could see many miles in every direction; when the Philippine army fled from the town they immediately thought our soldiers might ascend the tower and watch their course, so they burned the staircases. Alas for the little children who had taken refuge in the tower! As the flames swept up the stairways, they fled before them; two of them actually clung to the clapper of one great bell, and there they hung until its frame was burned away and the poor little things fell with the falling bell. Their remains were found later by our soldiers, the small hands still faithful to their hold. The bells were in time replaced and doubtless still chime out the hours of the day. It is the duty of one man to attend to the bells; the greater the festival day the oftener and longer they ring. When they rang a special peal for some special service, I tried to attend. One day there was an unusual amount of commotion and clanging, so I determined to go over to the service. Hundreds of natives had gathered together. To my surprise, six natives came in bearing on their shoulders a bamboo pole; from this pole a hammock was suspended, in which some one was reclining; but over the entire person, hammock, and pole, was thrown a thick bamboo net, entirely concealing all within; it was taken up to the chancel and whoever was in that hammock was given the sacrament. He was, no doubt, some eminent civilian or officer, for the vast congregation rose to their feet when the procession came in and when it passed out. I asked two or three of the Filipino women, whom I knew well, who it was, but they professed not to know. They always treated me with respect when I attended any of their services and placed a chair for me. I noticed how few carried books to church. I do not believe I ever saw a dozen books in the hands of worshipers in any of the cathedrals, and I visited a great many, five on Palm Sunday, 1900. I know from the children themselves, and from their teachers, that there are complaints about the size of the books and about the number which they have to get their lessons from in the new schools.

There are three American newspapers in Manila, and one American library. The grand success of the library more than repays all the cost and trouble of establishing it. One must experience it to know the joy of getting letters, magazines, papers, and books that come once or twice a month, only. It really seemed when the precious mail bags were opened that their treasures were too sacred to be even handled. We were so hungry and thirsty for news from home, for reading matter in this bookless country, where even a primer would have been a prize.

I alternated between passive submission to island laziness, shiftlessness, slovenliness, dirt, and active assertion of Ohio vim. Sick of vermin and slime, I would take pail, scrubbing brush and lye, and fall to; sick of it all, I would get a Summit county breakfast, old fashioned pan cakes for old times' sake; sick of the native laundress who cleansed nothing, I would give an Akron rub myself to my own clothes and have something fit to wear. These attacks of energy depended somewhat on the temperature, somewhat on exhausted patience, somewhat on homesickness, but most on dread of revolt and attack; or of sickening news—not of battle, but of assassination and mutilation. Whether I worked or rested, I was careful to sit or stand close to a wall—to guard against a stab in the back. I smile now, not gaily, at the picture of myself over a washtub, a small dagger in my belt, a revolver on a stool within easy reach of my steady, right hand, rubbing briskly while the tears of homesickness rolled down in uncontrollable floods, but singing, nevertheless, with might and main:—

"Am I a soldier of the Cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own His cause, Or blush to speak His name?

"Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize, And sailed through bloody seas?"

Singing as triumphantly as possible to the last verse and word of that ringing hymn. My door and windows were set thick with wondering faces and staring eyes, a Senora washing. These Americans were past understanding! And that revolver—they shivered as they looked at it, and not one doubted that it would be vigorously used if needed. And I looked at them, saying to myself, as I often did, "You poor miserable creatures, utterly neglected, utterly ignorant and degraded."

No wonder that the diseased, the deformed, the blind, the one-toed, the twelve-toed, and monstrous parts and organs are the rule rather than the exception. These things are true of nine-tenths of this people.



THE ADVERTISER.

ILOILO 25th. NOVEMBER 1899.

EXTRA.

Reuter's Telegrams.

THE TRANSVAAL WAR.

LONDON 25th. Novr.—The British losses at Belmont are stated at 48 killed, 146 wounded, and 21 missing. The losses include four Officers killed and 21 wounded and are chiefly Guardsmen.

50 Boers were taken prisoner, including the German commandant and six Field Cornets.

The British Infantry are said to have behaved splendidly and were admirably supported by the Artillery and the Naval Brigade, carrying three Ridges successively. The Victory is a most complete one. It is stated that the enemy fought with the greatest courage and skill.

This Extra was Issued Daily—Eighty-four Mexican Dollars per Year.



THE GORDON SCOUTS.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

The Gordon Scouts were a detachment made up of volunteers from the Eighteenth U. S. Infantry. They were under direct command of Captain W. A. Gordon and Lieutenant A. L. Conger. The captain lost health and was sent home; thus the troop was, for about a year, under the command of Lieutenant Conger. It would not be proper for me to tell of the wonderful expeditions and the heroic deeds of the Gordon Scouts. No one was more generous in praise of them than General Del Gardo, now governor of the Island of Panay. He told me often of his great esteem for my son and of the generous way in which he treated his prisoners and captives. Surely men were never kinder to a woman than these scouts were to me; they most affectionately called me Mother Conger and treated me always with the greatest respect and kindness. I hope some day the history of this brave band of men will be written, with its more than romantic campaigns and wonderful exploits, marches, dangers, and miraculous escapes. Few men were wounded or disabled, notwithstanding all the tedious marches in most impenetrable swamps and mountains, with no guide but the stars by night and the sun by day, and no maps or trusted men to guide them. I recall the bravery of one man who was shot through the abdomen, and when they stopped to carry him away he said, "Leave me here; I cannot live, and you may all be captured or killed." They tenderly placed him in a blanket, carried him to a place of safety, and, when he died, they brought him back to Jaro and buried him with military honors. He was the only man killed in all the months of their arduous tasks.

If I have any courage I owe it to my grandmother. I will perhaps be pardoned if I say that all my girlhood life was spent with my Grandmother Bronson, a very small woman, weighing less than ninety pounds, small featured, always quaintly dressed in the old-fashioned Levantine silk with two breadths only in the skirt, a crossed silk handkerchief with a small white one folded neatly across her breast, a black silk apron, dainty cap made of sheer linen lawn with full ruffles. She it was who entered into all my child life and who used to tell me of her early pioneer days, and of her wonderful experiences with the Indians. In the War of 1812, fearing for his little family, my grandfather started her back to Connecticut on horse back with her four little children, the youngest, my father, only six months old. The two older children walked part of the way; whoever rode had to carry the baby and the next smallest child rode on a pillion that was tied to the saddle. In this way she accomplished the long journey from Cleveland, Ohio, to Connecticut. When she used to tell me of the wonderful things that happened on this tedious journey, that took weeks and weeks to accomplish, I used to wonder if I should ever take so long a trip. I take pleasure in presenting the dearly loved grandmother of eighty-one and the little girl of ten.

While my dear little grandmother dreaded the Indians, I did the treacherous Filipinos; while she dreaded the wolves, bears and wild beasts, I did the stab of the ever ready bolo and stealthy natives, and the prospect of fire; she endured the pangs of hunger, so did I; and I now feel that I am worthy to be her descendant and to sit by her side.



TRIALS OF GETTING HOME.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

The first stages of my return home were from Iloilo to Manila, and thence to Nagasaki, the chief port of Japan. Upon leaving Iloilo for Manila, my son accompanied me as far as Manila; he heard incidentally that he was to be made a staff officer; as I procured quick transportation as far as Nagasaki, I told him to return to his duties and I would get along some way. Upon reaching Nagasaki, the difficulties began. I went immediately to the various offices of steamship lines and found there was no passage of any grade to be had. Many were fleeing from the various ports to get away from the plague and all steamers were crowded because of the reduced rates to the Pan-American Fair. Thinking I might have a better chance from Yokohama, I took passage up there on the North German Lloyd line. I had a splendid state-room, fine service, the best of everything. I told the purser I should like to engage that same state-room back to Liverpool; he replied he could not take me, that I would not live to get there. I assured him that I was a good sailor, that I was very much emaciated with my long stay in the Philippines, that I would soon recover with his good food and the sea air; but he refused to take me. When I reached Yokohama, I immediately began to see if I could not secure sailing from there; day after day went by, it was the old story, everything taken. When the Gaelic was returning I told the captain that I would be willing to take even third cabin at first class rates, but even thus there were no accommodations. Within an hour of the ship's sailing, word was brought to me that two women had given up their cabin and that I might have it; it was two miles out to the ship, with no sampan—small boat—of any kind to get my baggage out, so I tearfully saw this ship sail away. I then decided to return to Nagasaki to try again from that port. The voyage back was by the Empress line of steamers flying between Vancouver and Yokohama. Upon reaching Nagasaki again I appealed to the quarter-master to secure transportation; he said I could not get anything at all. Officers whom I had met in the Philippines proposed to take me and my baggage on board without the necessary red tape, in fact to make me a stow-away, but I refused. I cabled my son in New York to see if I could get a favorable order from Washington. I cabled Governor Taft, but he was powerless in the great pressure of our returning troops. In the meantime, I was daily growing weaker from the excitement and worry of being unable to do anything at all. The housekeeper of the very well-kept Nagasaki hotel was especially kind. She gave me very good attention and even the Chinese boy who took care of my room and brought my meals realized the desperate condition I was in. One day, with the deepest kind of solicitude on his otherwise stolid but child-like and bland face, he said:—

"Mrs., you no got husband?"

"No."

"You no got all same boys."

"Yes, I have three nice boys."

"Why no then you three boys not come and help poor sick mother go home to die?"

Captain John E. Weber, of the Thirty-Eighth Volunteers returning home on transport Logan, insisted upon my taking his state room. The quarter-master, who had refused me so many times before, thought that he could not allow it, anything so out of the "general routine of business;" but Captain Weber said, "On no account will I leave you here, after all your faithful service in the Philippines to myself, other officers, and hundreds of boys." I had one of the best state rooms on the upper deck and received the most kindly attentions from many on board; the quarter-master had been a personal friend of my husband in other and happier days. On the homeward way, the ship took what is known as the northern course; she made no stop between Nagasaki and San Francisco. We went far enough north to see the coast of Alaska. We saw many whales and experienced much cold weather. In my low state of vitality I suffered from the cold, but not from sea sickness. I did not miss a single meal en route during the twenty-four sailing days of the ship. They were days of great pleasure. We had social games and singing, and religious services on Sunday. There were a great many sick soldiers in the ship's hospital; three dying during the voyage. On reaching San Francisco the ship was placed in quarantine the usual number of days, but there was no added delay as there were on board no cases of infectious disease. Mrs. General Funston was one of the passengers and was greeted most cordially by the friends and neighbors of this, her native state. Upon my declaring to the custom house officers that I had been two years in the Philippines and had nothing for sale they immediately passed my baggage without any trouble. My son in New York, to whom I had cabled from Nagasaki, had never received my message, so there was no one to meet me, but I was so thankful to be in dear, blessed America that it was joy enough. No, not enough until I reached my own beloved home. Had it been possible I would have kissed every blade of grass on its grounds, and every leaf on its trees.

I am not ashamed to say that July 10th, the day of my home coming, I knelt down and kissed with unspeakable gratitude and love its dear earth and once more thanked God that His hand had led me—led me home.

"Adious."

THE END