THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

Our newest possession, the Philippine Archipelago, in a way, is also our oldest, for the islands were discovered by Ferdinand Magellan in 1521, about twenty-nine years after the great discovery of Columbus. Magellan called at several islands, among them Mindanao and Cebú. He anchored in the harbor on which the city of Cebú now stands. He seems to have been treated in a very friendly manner by the natives of Cebú, but when he crossed to a near-by island he was attacked and killed. The friendship of the King of Cebú was not very steadfast, for after Magellan's death several of his officers were put to death by the king's order.

For two hundred and forty years the islands were a possession of Spain; then they were captured by a British fleet. They were soon restored to Spain, however, and remained a Spanish possession until 1898, when they were ceded to us after the Spanish-American War.

There are more than three thousand islands in the archipelago, and they are the partly covered tops of a mountainous and rugged plateau. Many volcanoes testify to the volcanic origin of the plateau; indeed, the surface of the plateau seems to be a thin crust over—well, over trouble; for the dozen or more volcanoes are never quiet long enough to be forgotten. Perhaps it was proper to name the islands after Philip II of Spain, for he, too, had his full measure of trouble.

The archipelago is of pretty good size. The whole plateau, land and water, is about as large as that part of the United States east of Chicago; and the islands themselves are pretty nearly as large as the State of Texas. Luzon, the largest island, is about as large as Pennsylvania, and Mindanao is a bit smaller. Then there are Samar, Panay, Palawan, and Cebú—every one large enough to make a State of fair size, and every one with enough people to make a State.

There are about seven million people all told, most of whom are of the Malay race. As a rule, they are pretty well along toward civilization; some of them are educated. There are also tribes of the black race—Negritos, they are called—who are just plain savages. They are the original inhabitants of the islands, and it is most likely that they are the descendants of people from New Guinea. In the southwest is the Sulu group, inhabited by Malays, called Moros. They are Muhammadans in religion and are the last of the Malays who came to the islands.

Of all the Malay peoples, the Tagalogs of Luzon have been the foremost to learn the arts of western civilization. They have surpassed their near relatives, the Visayans, who live in the central part of the islands. Perhaps it is the closer contact with the Spanish that has given the Tagalogs their great progress. At all events they have become well to do and prosperous as measured by other Malay peoples.

The Moros, who live mainly in the southern part, have scarcely reached civilization. In the Sulu islands they have their own government, at the head of which is a native sultan. In many parts of the islands there are tribes governed by chiefs called "dattos." Some of the natives are prosperous farmers, but many of them are savages.

A great deal has been said about the misrule and cruelty of the Spanish governors and officials. Being soldiers and task-masters it is likely that they did many things that will not stand the searchlight of civilization. But the work of the priests will always leave a pleasant flavor. For three hundred years they braved every danger and suffered every hardship in their work. For every one that fell a victim to disease, or to the bolo, there was another ready to fill his place. They not only converted the natives to Christianity, but they also taught them to be thrifty farmers and prosperous business men. As a result the Filipinos are the only Asian people of considerable numbers that have yet become Christians.

The carabao, harnessed to a dray or wagon, shuffles along
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When the Philippine Islands became a possession of the United States, one of the first things done was to establish several thousand schools. A thousand American teachers were at first employed. Training schools for teachers were established, and in the course of a few years more than five thousand Filipino teachers were conducting native schools. English is taught in all the schools, and there are special schools in which agriculture, mechanical trades, and commerce are taught.

There is good reason for all this, for the islands have wonderful resources. Gold, silver, copper, and iron are abundant. The forests have an abundance of hard woods that sooner or later will find a market both in Europe and America. The rice-fields will easily produce enough grain for the whole population, and a considerable amount to sell in addition, when all the rice-lands are cultivated. For want of good wagon roads and railways only a small part of the rice-lands are cultivated.

There is an abundance of good grazing land that will produce meat for twice the present population. Most of the cattle now grown in the islands are of the kind found in India.

The most common beast of burden, however, is the carabao, or water-buffalo. What an ugly looking beast it is! It is as clumsy as a hippopotamus, as ugly as a rhinoceros, and as kind and gentle as an old muley cow. Harnessed to a dray or a wagon, it shuffles along, its big, flat feet seeming to walk all over the road. But those same big feet are the animal's chief stock in trade. They enable him to walk through both sand and deep mud—mud so soft and deep that a horse or a mule would sink to its body. Nothing but the carabao's flatboat-like feet could drag ploughs through the soft mud of the rice-fields.

Carabaos are easily trained to farm work, and even children can drive them—or ride on their backs in going to school. The milk of a carabao is as good and wholesome as that of an ordinary cow; the meat is pretty tough, but it is not unwholesome.

One thing, however, the carabao must have, and that is a bath several times a day. Deprived of its bath, the animal at first becomes restless; then it breaks away in a half-crazed condition for the nearest water, where it buries itself, all but its head. Native drivers know just how to manage their animals and drive them to the nearest water several times a day.

There are horses in the islands, but not many. Most of them are very much like the mustang. The Spanish brought Andalusian ponies to the islands many years ago, but they did not prove very useful. Within a few years American horses were introduced, but they could not live on Philippine grasses. Mexican mustangs and Mongolian ponies were much better, however, but they are used chiefly as riding animals.

Of all the beasts of burden in the Philippine Islands, none is in the same class with John Chinaman. Everywhere his bland smile is seen; his patience has no end—and, apparently, his work has none. The Filipino farmer works merely to keep body and soul together; John Chinaman works to save hard cash, and he saves it. Wherever there is any money to be made, John is pretty certain to be near by. He is the cook and "maid-of-all-work" in the house of the foreign resident, the stevedore on the dock, the clerk in the forwarding house, the "boss" in the rice plantation, the handy man in the tobacco factory, and the store-keeper in the remote Filipino village. Sixteen hours of hard work every day and Sunday seem to make him grow fat; the rest of the time he just works for fun—and hard cash.

Long before the Chinese coolie came to the United States the Spanish raised the cry "The Chinese must go." The Spanish made short work of them, killing them by thousands and tens of thousands. But in a year or two John was on hand again, smiling and working sixteen hours a day—strictly for cash. And he is in the Philippine Islands to stay.

As a rule the Filipinos rarely live isolated as do the American farmers. Almost always they cluster in villages of one or two hundred people. The Filipino is not likely to cultivate a big farm. Two or three acres will supply the family with all the food required, and the Chinese merchant will buy enough of his produce to provide a few dollars in cash and the cloth for the family wearing apparel. In the smaller villages there is an open place that answers for a street, but the houses are apt to be scattered about without much regularity of arrangement.

The houses, like those of the Pacific islands generally, are built of bamboo frames—heavy pieces for the framework itself and woven bamboo splints for the side sheathing. The roof is carefully thatched with the leaves of the nipa-palm and these are sewn into a thick mat with ratan. In places where the ground is likely to be overflowed, each house is set on posts so that the floors are several feet from the ground. In this case the "pig" does not "live in the parlor"; the pigs and chickens occupy the "ground floor." All told, the Filipino village mansion may not be very ornate, but it is extremely comfortable.

The larger villages and cities are built much alike. There is a plaza or public square. Around the four sides, and facing the plaza, are the church, government buildings, and stores. The more pretentious residences are near by. Further away these give place to the Filipino, or "nipa houses," as they are called. The street surrounding the plaza is broad and well kept; elsewhere the streets are quagmires in the rainy, and dust holes in the dry season. Pretty nearly always there is a Chinese quarter that is crowded and dirty; quite likely, too, the best stores in the town are kept by Chinese merchants. That is the way the Spaniards laid out their cities and towns in Spain; they did not change the plan in the Philippines. The houses built for them in the islands are much like those in Spanish towns—adobe walls plastered with stucco, and roofed with tiles.

The harbor of the city. Scene on the Pasig River, Manila
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Manila is the capital and commercial centre of the islands. It is a city about as large as Seattle, and is situated at the head of a landlocked body of water, Manila Bay. Corregidor Island, a little dark-green islet, guards the entrance to the bay; and one cannot see the wicked guns that are ready to pour a raking fire into a hostile fleet until one is within a few hundred yards of the island. The only thing visible at a distance is a flag flying from a high mast; but it is the Stars and Stripes that bends to the east wind. The bay is a good-sized bit of water, too. In the middle of it one can just barely see the gray, misty hills that surround it. Then the shore line begins to take shape and the mouth of Pasig River seems to open in front of the incoming steamship. In a few minutes the harbor of the city is in sight. Steamships, with their painted stacks and funnels, and sailing vessels, with every sort of mast and rigging, crowd the harbor. Row-boats by the hundred are moving in every direction, and little steam-launches and motor-boats are spitting viciously as they go back and forth.

The lower part of the city is almost like Amsterdam; it is traversed by canals, great and small, in which are fishing-smacks waiting to have the catch taken to market. Puffy, wheezy tugs are making fast to huge cascoes, or lighters; for the cargoes must be taken from the docks to the steamships and sailing-vessels out in the harbor.

The Pasig is only ten or twelve miles in length. It flows from a near-by lake, and both sides of the river are lined with villages, and market-gardens, and duck-hatcheries.

The business streets are crowded with carts and drays. Here and there are smart-looking carriages carrying well-groomed men, who talk little and look rich. There could not be more style and ceremony about them if they were in New York, London, or Paris. Trim-looking soldiers in khaki uniforms, native Filipinos in white suits, Chinese in silk gowns and long sleeves, native women wearing red skirts and black shawls, native coolies in loose blouses and short pantaloons—all go to make up the throng of the streets.

Most of the houses are two stories in height with arcades or awnings that shelter the sidewalks. And such narrow sidewalks!—they are hardly wide enough for more than three people to walk abreast. But even the business houses are built for comfort. The roof has a broad overhang, and quite likely there is a covered veranda.

Many of the Filipinos of Manila are educated and prosperous. Their houses are said to be furnished in European style, and likewise their clothing. Sure enough everything bears a "made in Germany" mark, but everything looks distinctly Filipino. The head of the family wears a suit of spotless white duck, but it has a military cut—and perhaps he goes about the house barefoot; if so, he knows what real comfort is.

Extracting indigo in Ilocos Province, Philippine Islands
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Mother and daughters wear skirts of beautiful brocaded silk, very wide and full; above the skirt is a loose garment much like a shirt-waist cut low at the neck, and over this a lace cape with a wide, flowing collar. Possibly they wear heelless slippers, but just as likely they, too, are barefoot—when no visitors are present. Perhaps such suits are not quite so becoming as the trim, tailor-made suits in New York, but they are a lot more comfortable.

A short distance from the Escolta, or chief business street, is one of the many markets of Manila. The whole space is laid off with rows of bamboo booths. Pretty nearly everything to eat, to wear, or to furnish the house is on hand—or rather in loose piles—fish, duck's eggs, meat, rice, pinole, fruit of forty kinds, straw hats, straw sandals, straw raincoats, tin ware from America, wooden ware from Holland, and clay stoves "made in Manila."

Every alley has its own wares, and John Chinaman with his baskets balanced on a long pole puts a finishing touch to the market. A Filipino cannot be emphatic in an ordinary tone of voice. Buyer and seller work themselves up to high C pitch until it seems as though nothing short of a fit would overtake both. Bedlam is turned loose in every part of the market. Usually a man and his wife are required to conduct the business at a booth. Their bare feet sticking out from the skirts bob up and down, beating time to the clatter of their voices.

Here comes a man whose sole stock in trade consists of a single article, namely, a python. His goods are twined about a pole with a cross piece for a perch, but the snake's tail has a loving twist around the owner's neck. What for?—well, the python has a sweet tooth for rats and mice and the sweet tooth of this particular snake is on edge for a square meal. Years ago foreign ships brought rats from various countries. In the course of time rats and mice became so numerous that it became a question whether Manila should exterminate the rats or the rats exterminate Manila.

Now, those same ships ought to have brought some cats along, too. But it is just as well that they did not, for one python is worth half a dozen cats or rat terriers when business is on hand. The only drawback occurs when the python insists on getting into bed with his owner to keep warm.

When in Manila, go to Duck-town by all means. It is only a short distance from the near-by market. The feeding grounds and hatcheries extend for two miles along the river. Hundreds of thousands of ducks are reared at the hatcheries, some for eggs, and others for food. The ducks are fed on shell-fish, and foreigners imagine that both the meat and the eggs have a fishy flavor. Eggs and edible bird's nests are also brought from neighboring sea-cliffs to the Manila markets; and both are considered great delicacies.

Manila hemp as it is brought in from the country
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Manila is the largest city of the Philippines, but there are also several other cities of good lusty growth. Bauan, Lipa, Laoag, and Batangas—all in Luzon—and Ilo-ilo in Panay are growing in population and business as the resources of the islands develop. Since the American occupation, Uncle Sam has done a great deal to make these ports centres of business; harbors have been deepened; railways have been extended; good roads have been built; and rivers have been made navigable.

There are several exports that will always tend to make the Philippines rich. Tobacco is an important crop and the Manila leaf, as it is called, is of very fine quality. There are those who whisper it about that much of the leaf is shipped to Cuba to be made into "Havana" cigars. Sugar is also a great export crop, and when the railways now under way are completed sugar will become one of the foremost exports. The export of copra, or dried cocoanut, is a leading industry, and the Philippine Islands produce a large part of the world's product.

One Philippine product, however, connects the islands with almost all the rest of the world, namely, Manila hemp. That is, it is called "hemp," but it is not hemp at all; the fibre is obtained from a plant very closely related to the banana. White leaves or husks grow closely around the stalk of the plant, forming a tightly fitting case. This envelope is composed of thousands of long, strong fibres that, when cleaned and dried, are the hemp that makes the strongest and best rope in the world.

After the pulpy leaves are stripped from the stalk, the pulp is squeezed out of them and the fibres are left in the sun to dry. The best fibre is as soft and fine as silk. Some of it is used in making a fine cloth; the coarser fibre is used for rope and hawsers. More than fifteen million dollars worth of Manila hemp is sold yearly.

In the treaty with Spain, by which Uncle Sam acquired the islands, twenty million dollars was paid to Spain. But the exports from the Philippines have averaged nearly thirty million dollars a year ever since.