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"I should imagine that the bamboo is the skeleton or the framework, and that the nipa is the skin of the Philippine structure," I remarked. "That is the doctor's way of drawing a figure of speech," laughed the Padre. The next morning Filippa's mother refreshed us all with a cup of fragrant cocoa, so that we might begin the day in good spirits.
I live in a land where some people spend more time over clothes than over learning, character, good deeds, or the day's duty," I replied. "This large flowing skirt of red, green, or white, is made of cotton, or hemp; and sometimes a little silk may be mixed in. We like bright colors, and a long train. No short, tight skirts in our styles," explained Filippa's mother. "How sensible," I remarked.
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. "What odd homes! toy houses toppling over from their stilts!" I exclaimed, as we passed a remarkable village.
Then I hummed as we went home to have lunch, or "tiffin," as they call it: "All lectures and no candy or fun Make Moro and Fil dull boys." Moro was always up to tricks. I noticed that he was whispering something to Filippa who was laughing. "Tell it out," demanded Filippa's mother. "The bad boy said the coconut, which we are trying to break, is a hairy monkey's head dried."
"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.
Filippa's mother added: "It is finer than silk or hemp linen. We make our best shiny gowns and laces out of it. Because it is so fine, it takes a long time to get enough threads to weave and work it together. The time spent in making it, explains its great cost."
Now you would have me believe that one slim tree with only a tuft of leaves at the top, furnishes you twenty useful and rich products. This is really too much to believe, though I ask you to forgive me for being so frank." Filippa's mother replied: "These are the gardens of the sunny Equator; and you can, therefore, expect wonderful things.
We starch them out, so they will be cool and neat," replied Filippa's mother. "I notice that Filippa's hair is worn plain," I remarked. "Yes," replied her mother, "we brush the hair back plain; tie a knot or leave it loose. We like jewelry, and we wear splendid lace mantillas, or shawls, over the head." "What odd slippers with no heels!" I exclaimed.
Filippa looked upon me with very happy eyes, when I said this; for a girl seems to know wiser ways of settling quarrels than do boys. A boy becomes excited; a girl thinks longer and acts more slowly. Certainly, Filippa's gentle ways and the expression in her wonderfully deep eyes had more power with Fil and Moro than would strife and force.
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