Chapter XXXV: Letter XXXIII: A Paper-Chase—lack of Sports—preparations for Mr Taft

ILOILO, _June 26, 1905_.

C—— and another man got up a paper-chase last Sunday, and, by way of being cordial, advertised the event in _El Tiempo_ a day or two before, C—— and his friend arranging to be the hares, and let all Iloilo chase them, if it cared to. They were very keen and excited about their venture, which was something quite new in the way of local enterprise. The “meet” was in Plaza Libertad at six in the morning, and when they got there and found a large company of Spaniards, _Mestizos_, Swiss, and one or two other Englishmen, they were delighted, and set off in great feather. Our pony is a very good “goer,” and can fly along ahead of almost any other pony here, so C—— and his friend started and tore along the Jaro road in the cool morning, with the “field” after them.

Beyond Jaro, where they were out in the open country, they noticed that the hunt was far out of sight and hearing, so they ambushed in some bamboo brake, and hung about, peeping round bushes for about a quarter of an hour, and then went cautiously back a few yards and hung about again, and so on till by degrees they got back into Jaro. Imagine their disgust when they at last tracked the other sportsmen to a bar where they were sitting at little tables drinking cold beer! Their fury about the incident is comical, but one cannot help sympathising with them after all the trouble they took to infuse a little sport into the place.

One of the chief things Cebú crows about is possessing a race-course and a Jockey Club, and I think they are quite right so to crow, as something of the sort would be a boon here. One need hardly say that when anything like that is done in Manila or anywhere else, the Americans have no part in the initiative, as they are not a very sporting people, and all they do to keep themselves alive is base-ball. It seems so odd to be in a garrison town, and not see officers with sports or a club, or polo or gymkhanas or anything. The Filipinos have no games, and the great idea is to teach them base-ball, which, by-the-bye, the Americans call ball-game. When I say the Filipinos have no games, I forget a sort of ball they throw about, in the streets or anywhere, made of strips of bamboo bent into a hollow, spherical frame; but the throwing about is not conducted on any principle or according to any rules.

When I am feeling well again, I should like to ride in the mornings, but I wish I had brought my saddle, as there is not such a thing as a side-saddle to be bought in Iloilo, or, the shopkeepers tell us, in the whole Islands. This is because the _Mestizas_ never ride at all, and the American women ride astride in large loose trousers that look like two skirts.[9] There are very few here who ride, but I saw several going about in Manila, and am confirmed once and for ever to my allegiance to the side-saddle, for a more hideous and ungainly effect than women astride I never saw, to say nothing of its vulgarity. The attitude also brings out all the disproportions of the female figure, making it look top-heavy and ill-balanced. It is all very well for the Amazons to look well on a Greek sarcophagus, but no modern woman of over sixteen is shaped like that—and I very much doubt if the ordinary ancients were either, quite apart from corsets, boots, and collars. Besides all that, from the point of view of sense, a woman’s knees can’t be strong enough to grip the saddle. So as I have not brought my own saddle I shall not be able to ride, and now we are thinking of going home, it is not worth while to send for it.

I read in my Manila papers that there is a fearful row going on in Manila now, because the committee who are arranging the banquets and receptions for Mr Taft and his party have invited heads of every religious sect except the Iglesia Filipina, and the latter are making a terrible fuss, and insisting on Father Aglipay being included amongst the official guests. Of course, if he is asked, the R.C. won’t come, and the Pope will be furious, and the Insurrectionist Party will score one important point in the public eye. On the other hand, if the authorities fall out with Aglipay, they fall foul of his powerful following, who give quite enough trouble as it is, so they are in a very uncomfortable cleft stick, besides the fact of partizanship for any one religion being entirely unconstitutional. And the trouble is aggravated, you see, by Mr Taft being such an ardent pro-Filipino, and all the natives believing that his advent is to be a sort of second coming to announce the millennium of freedom.

What he _is_ coming for, besides the personal conducting of the anti-Filipino Senators, is a staple subject of conversation, many thinking he will be allowed to announce a great reduction in taxation as a sort of halo to his visit. Whatever it is, I am so anxious not to miss his visit, and I do hope our return journey will not have to begin before he and his party arrive.

Besides the Taft excitement, Manila has been convulsed for months by efforts to get fireworks from America for “the 4th.” Already in the month of April there were huge “scare-heads,” as they call them, in the papers, with letters big enough for a poster, beginning

FIREWORKS NOT GONE OFF YET,

and then another headline to the effect that

THEY WILL NOT REACH MANILA TILL JUNE.

Sometimes these headlines are very comical, whether intentionally or not I don’t know—for instance, when the transport _Sherman_ left, there was a headline in enormous letters,

_Sherman’s_ LIVING FREIGHT,

which I at first took to mean cows or horses, but found to my surprise it was only a list of officers’ names.

I am sure you will be sorry to hear that one of our dear little mongeese is dead, the little man of the party. He was very sick for a day or two, lying on the floor on his stomach as if in pain, and when the others came running into my room in the morning, he could only crawl very slowly after them. At last, at about ten in the morning, he died, poor, gentle little beast, and I made Domingo take him out and bury him in the garden. We don’t know what he died of, but we think it was tough cockroach, as his poor little throat was full of hard brown wings, which we hauled out, but it did him no good to get rid of them. What I fear is he may have picked up a cockroach which had died of rat-poison. I gave him weak sherry and water to revive him, but he brought it all up again with pitiful little groans and squeaks, and soon afterwards he died.

The little widows did not seem to mind much, they hopped about as usual; but now one of them has injured an eye in some way, and has gone blind in it, and is very sick and sorry, and I am afraid she won’t live long either. I bathed the poor eye with cold tea, which gave the little creature some relief, for she lifted the lid slowly, and then I saw that the eye had a cut right across, as if some animal had scratched it. She can only move very slowly, with her head on one side—a very sad sight—just able to crawl as far as wherever I am, and then sit in a heap waiting to be lifted up, when she goes to sleep on my lap, and lies still for hours.