Then arises a difficulty as to the precise meaning of the words "public property." There were laid down by the Spaniards about 12,000 Mausers and Remingtons, and there were 10,000 in the arsenals—22,000 in all. It is admitted that 12,000 personally surrendered rifles go back to the Spaniards, whether they or we go away from the islands—as one or the other is sure to do—but the 10,000 stand of arms in the arsenals come under the head of "public property," and so should be retained permanently by the Americans. The number of ball cartridges a soldier starting out to make a march carries is 100. There were surrendered more than 500 rounds to the man. The public money was public property, of course, and General Greene demanded the keys to the vault containing it. The Spanish authorities objected, but yielded after presenting a written protest. The money consisted of Spanish and Mexican dollars, a lot of silver bars and change fused into one mass, and some gold in the same state, also $247,000 in copper coin, which was regarded, under the old dispensation, good stuff to pay poor wages to poor men and women.
There are some fine points about customs. The American flag floats over the city, and the importers and exporters want to know what the charges are and how much the private concessions must be. Some of these people ran around for several days with the object of placing a few hundred Mexican dollars in the hands of officials, where they would do the most good, and could not find anybody ready to confer special favors for hard cash. These pushing business men had been accustomed to meet calls for perquisites, and did not feel safe for a moment without complying with that kind of formality. They turned away embarrassed and disappointed, and were surprised to learn that they were on a ground floor that was wide enough to accommodate everybody.
It should be mentioned in this connection, also, a Mexican dollar passes in Manila for 50 cents American. The price of Mexican dollars in the banks of San Francisco and Honolulu is 46 and 47 cents. The way it works is illustrated in paying in a restaurant for a lunch—say for two. If the account is $2 you put down a $5 United States gold piece and receive in change eight Mexican dollars. If you buy cigars at $40 per 1,000 a $20 American gold piece pays the $40 bill. There is now pretty free coinage of Mexican dollars and they answer admirably as 50-cent coins. That is one of the ways in which free coinage of silver removes prejudices against the white metal; no one thinks of objecting to a Mexican dollar as a half-dollar, and our boys, paid in American gold, have a feeling that their wages are raised because all over the city one of their dollars counts two in the settlement of debts. These useful American dollars are admitted free of duty.
The headquarters of the American administration in Manila are in the city hall, situated in the walled city, with a park in front that plainly has been neglected for some time. It also fronts upon the same open square as the cathedral, while beyond are the Jesuit College and the Archbishop's palace. Just around the corner is a colossal church, and a triangular open space that has a few neglected trees and ought to be beautiful but is not. A street railroad passes between the church and the triangle, and the mule power is sufficient to carry at a reasonable rate a dozen Spanish officers and as many Chinamen. The fare is 1 cent American—that is, 2 cents Philippine—and the other side of the river you are entitled to a transfer, but the road is short and drivers cheap. There is a system of return coupons that I do not perfectly understand. The truth about the street railway system is that there is very little of it in proportion to the size of the city, but the average ride costs about 1 cent. If the Americans stay there is an opening for a trolley on a long line.
There is no matter of business that does not depend upon the question: Will the Americans stay? If they do all is well; if they do not all is ill, and enterprise not to be talked of.
The most important bridge across the Pasig is the bridge of Spain. The street railway crosses it. The carriages and the coolies, too, must keep to the left. It is the thoroughfare between the new and old cities, and at all hours of the day is thronged. It is a place favored by the native gig drivers to whip heavily laden coolies out of the way. A big Chinaman with powerful limbs, carrying a great burden, hastens to give the road to a puny creature driving a puny pony, lashing it with a big whip, and scrambles furiously away from a two-wheeler whirling along a man able to pay a 10-cent fare.
In other days when one passed this bridge he faced the botanical gardens, which had a world-wide reputation, an attraction being a wonderful display of orchids. There were also beautiful trees; now there are only stumps, disfigurements and desolation—some of the horrors of war. The gardens were laid waste by the Spaniards as a military precaution. As they seem to have known that they could not or would not put up a big fight for the city, what was the use of the destructiveness displayed in the gardens, parks and along the boulevards? The fashion of taking a garden and making a desert of it and calling it one of the military necessities of war is, however, not peculiar to the chieftains of Spain.
Crossing the bridge of Spain to the walled city and turning to the right there are well-paved streets bordered with strips of park beside the river, that is rushing the same way if you are going to headquarters; and the object that tells where to turn off to find the old gateway through the wall, with a drawbridge over the grassy moat, is a Monument to Alphonse, whose memory it is the habit of these people to celebrate. Approaching the city hall (headquarters) there is a white-walled hospital to note; then comes a heavy mass of buildings on a narrow street, and the small square already styled in this article a park, and we arrive at the grand entrance of the official edifice. The room devoted to ceremony is so spacious that one must consent that magnitude is akin to grandeur. There is the usual double stairway and a few stone steps to overcome. On the right and left under the second lift of stairs were corded the Spanish Mausers and Remingtons and many boxes of cartridges. I have several times noticed soldiers tramping on loose cartridges as though they had no objection at all to an explosion. You can tell the Mauser ammunition, because the cartridges are in clips of five, and the little bullets famous for their long flight are covered with nickel. The Remington bullets are bigger and coated with brass. Something has been said to the effect that the Remington balls used by the Spaniards are poisonous and that it is uncivilized to manufacture them. The object of the Mauser and Remington system in covering the bullets, the one with nickel and the other with brass, is not to poison, but to prevent the lead from fouling the rifles. The point is almost reached in modern guns of 2,000 and 3,000 yards range where the friction of the gun barrel and the speed of the missile at the muzzle are sufficient to fuse unprotected lead, and at any rate so much of the soft material would soon he left in the grooves as to impair accuracy and endanger the structure of the arm.
Right ahead when the first stairs are cleared is a splendid hall, with a pair of gilded lions on a dais, and some of the boys had adorned these beasts with crowns of theatrical splendor. The arms of Spain are conspicuous, and in superb medallions illustrious warriors, statesmen, authors, artists and navigators, look down from the walls upon desks now occupied by American officers. Above this floor the stairs are blocks of hardwood, the full width of the stairway and the height of the step, and this earthquake precaution does not detract from the dignity of the building, for the woodwork is massive and handsome. A marvelous effect might be produced in some of the marble palaces of private citizens in our American cities by the construction of stairways with the iron-hard and marble-brilliant wood that is abundant in Puerto Rico, Cuba and Luzon. The hall in which the city council met, now the place of the provost-marshal's court, is furnished in a style that puts to shame the frugality displayed in the council chambers of our expensively governed American cities, where men of power pose as municipal economists.
In the elevated chair of the President, faced by the array of chairs of the Spanish councilmen, or aldermen, sits the provost-marshal judge, and before him come the soldiers who have forgotten themselves and the culprits arrested by the patrol. On the wall above him is a full-length likeness of the Queen Regent—a beautiful, womanly figure, with a tender and anxious mother's solicitous face. She looks down with sad benignity upon the American military government. There is also a portrait of the boy king, who becomes slender as he gains height, and rather sickly than strong. It may be that too much care is taken of him.