Yesterdays in the Philippines

by Joseph Earle Stevens

I made a call on the local dentist yesterday, and found him sitting on a wooden figure of St. Peter, carving some expression into the face. I thought I had got into a carpenter’s shop instead of a dental establishment, and apologized for the intrusion. But the gentleman said he was the dentist, and dropped his mallet and chisel to usher me into his other operating-room. It is quite a jump from carving out features of apostles to filling teeth, but on being assured that he had received due instruction from an American dentist, I allowed him to proceed to business. The whole operation lasted about seven and one-half minutes, and by the time I had got out my dollar to pay him for the filling I swallowed soon after, he was again at work on Biblical subjects.

All in all it doesn’t pay to neglect one’s health in the Philippines, for the only English doctor that Manila boasts of has been here so long that the climate has shrivelled up his memory. After he has attended your serious case of fever or influenza for several days, he will suddenly stroll in some morning and give you a sinking feeling with the words:

“Oh, by the way, what is the matter with you?”

This is hardly comforting to one who considers himself a gone coon, but in justice to our friend the medico, I must say he never displays these symptoms to patients whose case is really getting desperate.

Tons and tons of water have been drunk up by the clouds of late, and have just now begun to be unceremoniously dumped down upon flat Manila, so that she has seemed likely to be washed into the sea. But rain has been badly needed. A long heat has made many the worse for wear, and the doctors have all said that unless the rain came soon, an epidemic would probably break out.

The Fast Set in the Philippines. Rapid Transit in the Suburbs of Manila.

Before the showers began, we improved the spare time of another Sunday and bank-holiday by an aquatic excursion to some of the provincial towns away across to the north side of Manila Bay. Don Capitan, the purchaser of our fire-engine and the millionaire ship-owner who runs several lines of steamers and store-houses, was our host, and invited us to spend the days as his guests aboard the trim paddle-wheel steamer that makes regular trips to the bay ports. Early on Sunday morning we started from the quay in front of the big hemp-press, and while the lower decks of the steamer were crowded with native market-women, fishermen, and Chinese, the more sightly portions of the upper promenade were reserved for us and provided with Vienna chairs. Breakfast was served in a large chart-room connected with the wheel-house, and was a fitting accompaniment to the fresh sail out of the river through the shipping.

After discharging groups of passengers and freight into large tree-trunk boats at several little villages, we came at noon to Orani, the end of the outward run. The sister-in-law of the jet-black captain owned the largest house in the village, and put it at our disposal. Our advent had been heralded the day before, and a groaning table supported a sumptuous repast.

There were four of us besides the half-caste family of the captain’s sister-in-law, and an old withered-up Spaniard who used to be governor of the village. Various cats roamed around under the table, and on top were toothpicks built up into cones, Spanish sausages, olives, flowers, and fruit with an unpronounceable name, that looked like freshly dug potatoes well covered with soil.