and then a livery stable-a sort of monopolistic cab stand, where a few ponies and carriages were to be found-but no one understood or did anything as long as possible, except to say that all the rigs were engaged now and always. However, a little violent English language, mixed with Spanish, would arouse emotion and excite commotion eventuating in a pony in harness, and a gig or carriage, and a desperate driver, expert with a villainous whip used without occasion or remorse.

The cool place was at the front door, on the sidewalk, seated on a hard chair, for there was always a breeze. The Spanish guests knew where the wind blew, and gathered there discussing many questions that must have deeply interested them. But they had something to eat, no authority or ability to affect any sort of change, and unfailing tobacco, the burning of which was an occupation. The ground floor of the hotel, except the barroom, the washroom, the hall, the conservatory and the hollow square, had been devoted to shop keeping, but the shop keepers were gone, perhaps for days and perhaps forever! Stone is not used to any great extent in house interiors, except within a few feet of the surface of the earth. Of course, there is no elevator in a Spanish hotel. That which is wanted is room for the circulation of air. Above the first flight of stairs the steps have a deep dark red tinge, and are square and long, so that each extends solidly across the liberal space allotted to the stairway. The blocks might be some stone of delightful color, but they are hewn logs, solid and smooth, of a superb mahogany or some tree of harder wood and deeper luxuriance of coloring. The bedrooms are immensely high, and in every way ample, looking on great spaces devoted to wooing the air from the park and the river. The windows are enormous. Not satisfied with the giant sliding doors that open on the street, revealing windows-unencumbered with sash or glass, there are sliding doors under the window sills, that roll back right and left and offer the chance to introduce a current of air directly on the lower limbs. One of the lessons of the tropics is the value of the outer air, and architecture that gives it a chance in the house. It is a precious education. The artificial light within must be produced by candles, and each stupendous apartment is furnished with one tallowy and otherwise neglected candle stick, and you can get, with exertion, a candle four inches long. There is a wardrobe, a wash stand, with pitcher and basin, and a commode, fans, chairs, and round white marble table, all the pieces placed in solitude, so as to convey the notion of lonesomeness. The great feature is the bed. The bedstead is about the usual thing, save that there is no provision for a possible or impossible spring mattress, or anything of that nature. The bed space is covered with bamboo, platted. It is hard as iron, and I can testify of considerable strength, for I rested my two hundred pounds, and rising a few pounds,

on this surface, with no protection for it or myself for several nights, and there were no fractures. There is spread on this surface a Manila mat, which is a shade tougher and less tractable than our old style oilcloth. Upon this is spread a single sheet, that is tucked in around the edges of the mat, and there are no bed clothes, absolutely none. There is a mosquito bar with only a few holes in it, but it is suspended and cannot under any circumstances be used as a blanket. There is a pillow, hard and round, and easy as a log for your cheek to rest upon, and it is beautifully covered with red silk. There is a small roll, say a foot long and four inches in diameter, softer than the pillow, to a slight extent, and covered with finer and redder silk, that is meant for the neck alone. The comparatively big red log is to extend across the bed for the elevation it gives the head, and the little and redder log, softer so that you may indent it with your thumb, saves the neck from being broken on this relic of the Spanish inquisition. But there is a comforter-not such a blessed caressing domestic comforter as the Yankees have, light as a feather, but responsive to a tender touch. This Philippine comforter is another red roll that must be a quilt firmly rolled and swathed in more red silk; and it is to prop yourself withal when the contact with the sheet and the mat on the bamboo floor of the bedstead, a combination iniquitous as the naked floor becomes wearisome. It rests the legs to pull on your back, and tuck under your knees. In the total absence of bed covering, beyond a thin night shirt, the three red rolls are not to be despised. The object of the bed is to keep cool, and if you do find the exertion of getting onto-not into the bed produces a perspiration, and the mosquito bar threatens suffocation, reliance may be had that if you can compose yourself on top of the sheet (which feels like a hard wood floor, when the rug gives way on the icy surface and you fall) and if you use the three rolls of hard substance, covered with red silk, discreetly and considerately, in finding a position, and if you permit the windows-no glass-fifteen feet by twelve, broadcast, as it were, to catch the breath of the river and the park; if you can contrive with infinite quiet, patience and pains to go to sleep for a few hours, you will be cool enough; and when awakened shivering there is no blanket near, and if you must have cover, why get under the sheet, next the Manila mat, and there you are! Then put your troublesome and probably aching legs over the bigger red roll, and take your repose! Of course, when in the tropics you cannot expect to bury yourself in bedclothing, or to sleep in fur bags like an arctic explorer. The hall in front of your door is twelve feet wide and eighty long, lined with decorative chairs and sofas, and in the center of the hotel is a spacious dining room. The Spaniard doesn't want breakfast. He wants coffee and fruit-maybe a small banana-something sweet, and a crumb of bread. The necessity of the hour

is a few cigarettes. His refined system does not require food until later. At 12 o'clock he lunches, and eats an abundance of hot stuff-fish, flesh and fowl-fiery stews and other condolences for the stomach. This gives strength to consider the wrongs of Spain and the way, when restored to Madrid, the imbeciles, who allowed the United States to capture the last sad fragments of the colonies, sacred to Spanish honor, shall be crushed by the patriots who were out of the country when it was ruined. It will take a long time for the Spaniards to settle among factions the accounts of vengeance. One of the deeper troubles of the Spaniards is that they take upon themselves the administration of the prerogatives of him who said "Vengeance is mine." The American end of the dining room contains several young men who speak pigeon Spanish, and Captains Strong and Coudert are rapidly becoming experts, having studied the language in school, and also on the long voyage out. There are also a group of resident Englishmen and a pilgrim from Norway, but at several tables are Americans who know no Spanish and are mad at the Spaniards on that provocation among other things.

There is, however, a connecting link and last resort in the person of a young man-a cross between a Jap and Filipino. He is slender and pale, but not tall. His hair is roached, so that it stands up in confusion, and he is wearied all the time about the deplorable "help." It is believed he knows better than is done-always a source of unhappiness. His name is Francisco; his reputation is widespread. He is the man who "speaks English"-and is the only one-and it is not doubted that he knows at least a hundred words of our noble tongue. He says, "What do you want?" "Good morning, gentlemen"; "What can I do for you?" "Do you want dinner?" "No, there is no ice till 6 o'clock." He puts the Americans in mind of better days. Behind this linguist is a little woman, whose age might be twenty or sixty, for her face is so unutterably sad and immovable in expression that there is not a line in it that tells you anything but that there is to this little woman a bitterly sad, mean, beastly world. She must be grieving over mankind. It is her duty to see that no spoon is lost, and not an orange or banana wasted, and her mournful eyes are fixed with the intensity of despair upon the incompetent waiters, who, when hard pressed by wild shouts from American officers, frantic for lack of proper nourishment, fall into a panic and dance and squeal at each other; and then the woman of fixed sorrow, her left shoulder thin and copper-colored, thrust from her low-necked dress, her right shoulder protected, is in the midst of the pack, with a gliding bound and the ferocity of a cat, the sadness of her face taking on a tinge of long-suffering rage. She whirls the fools here and there as they are wanted. Having disentangled the snarl, she returns to the door from which her eyes com

mand both the pantry and the dining-room to renew her solemn round of mournful vigilance. The Americans are outside her jurisdiction. She has no more idea what they are than Christopher Columbus, when he was discovering America, knew where he was going. When Francisco does not know what the language (English) hurled at him means he has a far-away look, and may be listening to the angels sing, for he is plaintive and inexpressive. He looks so sorry that Americans cannot speak their own language as he speaks English! But there are phrases delivered by Americans - that he understands, such as, "Blankety, blank, blank-you all come here." Francisco does not go there, but with humble step elsewhere, affecting to find a pressing case for his intervention, but when he can no longer avoid your eye catching him he smiles a sweet but most superior smile, such as becomes one who speaks English and is the responsible man about the house.

There never was one who did more on a capital of one hundred words. His labors have been lightened slightly, for the Americans have picked up a few Spanish words, such as, "Ha mucher, mucher-don't you know? Hielo, hielo!" Hielo is ice, and after the "mucher" is duly digested the average waiter comes, by and by, with a lump as big as a hen's egg and is amazed by the shouts continuing "hielo, hielo!" pronounced much like another and wicked word.

"Oh, blanketination mucher mucher hielo!" The Filipinos cannot contemplate lightly the consumption of slabs of ice. The last words I heard in the dining-room of the Hotel Oriental were from a soldier with two stars on each shoulder: "Francisco, oh, Francisco," and the little woman with left shoulder exposed turned her despairing face to the wall, her sorrow too deep for words or for weeping.

CHAPTER III.

FROM LONG ISLAND TO LUZON.

Across the Continent-An American Governor-General Steams Through the Golden Gate-He Is a Minute-Man-Honolulu as a Health Resort-The Lonesome Pacific The Skies of Asia-Dreaming Under the Stars of the ScorpionThe Southern Cross.

Spain, crowded between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, was the world's "West" for many centuries, indeed until Columbus found a further West, but he did not go far enough to find the East Indies. The United States is now at work in both the East and West Indies.

Our Manila expeditions steamed into the sunsets, the boys pointing out to each other the southern cross. The first stage of a journey, to go half round the world on a visit to our new possession, was by the annex boat from Brooklyn, and a rush on the Pennsylvania train, that glimmers with gold and has exhausted art on wheels, to Washington, to get the political latitude and longitude by observation of the two lomes, that of the Capitol, and the library, and the tremendous needle of snow that is the monument to Washington, and last, but not least, the superb old White House.

The next step was across the mountains on the Baltimore and Ohio, the short cut between the East and the West, traversed so often by George Washington to get good land for the extension of our national foundations. The space between Cincinnati and Chicago is cleared on the "Big Four" with a bound through the shadow of the earth, between two rare days in June, and the next midnight, the roaring train flew high over the Missouri River at Omaha, and by daylight far on the way to Ogden. The country was rich in corn and grass, and when one beholds the fat cattle, lamentations for the lost buffalo cease. It is a delight to see young orchards and farmhouses, and cribs and sheds fortified against tornadoes by groves, laid out with irritating precision. to confront the whirling storms from west and south. The broad bad lands in which the tempests are raised devour the heart of the continent.

I made note of the 888-mile post beyond Omaha. but the 1,000-mile telegraph pole and tree glided away while I was catching the lights and shadows on a fearfully tumbled landscape. The alkali has poisoned enormous tracts, and the tufts of sagebrush have a huge and sinister monotony. Looking out early in the morning there was in our track a "gaunt grey wolf" with sharp ears, unabashed by the roar