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Then they bowed before the cross on the altar, which was shining at the end of the long aisle. In the front seats, under the high dome, we could see Filippa, her parents, and Favra. The colored light from the stained glass windows fell down in rays and clouds of beauty upon the altar boys, who wore robes of purple and white lace.
"It is a peculiar but lovely Philippines that you live in ; so different from our country, but perhaps even more charming," I added. "Please show us an umbrella shop," begged Filippa and Favra together; for they had been whispering about what they would like to see. "This way, then," said her father and the Padre.
"Every name seems to have a pretty meaning in your Edenlike Philippines," I remarked to Filippa's playmate, Favra. Next day I met the Padre. He was seated on a cane chair under a clump of whispering bamboos, which are giant grasses as tall and as strong as trees. "Every one awakens early in this wonderful climate, yet no one seems to be fully awake," I said.
"Tell me if the boats are used for other purposes than sport." "Oh, yes," said quiet little Favra, Filippa's chum. "The sailors fish in them and bring us home fish with names as wonderful as are their colors." "Tell me the names, please," I asked.
Favra slowly thought of three and replied: "The pompano, all silver, gold, and purple, and as wide as it is long; the fighting barracuda, so hard to bring in to the boat; and the leaping tuna, that jumps out of the water and out of the boat perhaps."
"We have another natural wonder here, the volcano," said Favra. Years ago fire and lava, which is molten rock that has cooled, poured from their hot, pointed tops, ran down the sides, and destroyed everything in their path." "What is lava?" asked Fil. The Padre replied: "Even a volcano produces some good.
"You should use oil or gas for fuel, and should press every drop of sugar out of that valuable cane. Waste not; want not, is as good a maxim for a nation as for a boy." "If you are always that serious, like a lecturer, the children may not like you so well," remarked the gentle Padre. "Not at all," replied Fil and Moro and Filippa and Favra, who perhaps remembered the pennies I had given to them.
The driver, who wore a mushroom-shaped bamboo hat, pulled the water buffalo to a stop. All, except Filippa and Favra, got off at the mouth of a cave. "I won't go in or near it," exclaimed Filippa. "Girls are afraid of real things, of imaginary noises, and even of unreal shadows," jeered Fil. "No wonder, if you refer to this damp cave," remarked Fil's mother.
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