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.