The Inhabitants of the Philippines Part 26

These banks, however, did not advance money to cultivators to clear lands, plant crops, or erect machinery, as the returns are too slow, not to say doubtful. Yet this is what is wanted; banks in Manila and the chief towns that will advance money for such purposes, under the advice of experts personally acquainted with the cultivators and their lands. Such a business certainly requires great intelligence and discernment.

Still there is a future for such banks, for agriculturists have to pay enormous rates of interest and commissions for money to carry on their plantations. Such banks could also finance timber-cutters, gold miners, and other bona fide workers.

Amongst the enterprises I have recommended when writing about the Pampangos, and others engaged in planting sugar-cane, is the establishment of central sugar factories in suitable localities. Such undertakings, judiciously administered, would have every prospect of success.

There is also room for paper-mills, rice-mills, cotton-mills, and saw-mills, but all these, especially the last, need careful consideration for the selection of the locality where they are to be placed. The manufacture of various kinds of leather could be greatly extended and improved. There is employment for more coasting steamers and schooners. The latter and hulls of small steamers can be built in the country from the native timber.

Although the development of means of communication is all-important, it is evident from the configuration of the Archipelago that no great length of railway is required, nor would it pay to construct them in so mountainous a country. Water-carriage is all-important. In Luzon a line of railway might be made from Manila to Batangas with a branch into the Laguna province. It would traverse a fertile and thickly-populated country.

A short line of railway or electric tramway from near Siniloan on the Lake to the Pacific would be most useful in giving access to and developing the eastern coast, or contra costa, as it is called. This coast is very backward in every way, indeed from Baler to Punta Escarpada on its extreme north, it is quite unknown, and remains in the possession of the Dumagas, an aboriginal tribe of heathen savages of low type, just as at the time of the Spanish conquest; and it would be worth while to study the question of cutting a s.h.i.+p-ca.n.a.l through this narrow strip of land if the mouth could be protected from the Pacific surf. There is also Bishop Gainza's project that might be revived, that of cutting a ca.n.a.l for country craft from Pasacao in Camarines Sur to the River Vicol. In Negros and Panay some short lines from the ports through the sugar lands might pay if constructed very economically.

Tramways between populous towns not far apart in Luzon and Panay would probably pay very well, as the people are fond of visiting their friends.

It will probably be many years before Mindanao will be in a position to warrant the construction of railways. The island has relapsed into barbarism as a consequence of the withdrawal of the Spanish garrisons and detachments, and of nearly all the Jesuit missionaries.

It could, however, give employment to a flotilla of small steamers and sailing vessels on its northern and southern coasts.

Such is my opinion in brief upon the possibilities of the development of industries and commerce.

That the commerce of the islands, now mainly British, will ultimately pa.s.s into American hands, can scarcely be doubted. They are not yet firmly seated in power, but their att.i.tude to British and foreign firms is already sufficiently p.r.o.nounced to allow an observant onlooker to make a forecast of what it will be later on.

Dominating Cuba, holding the Philippines, the Sandwich Islands and Porto Rico, the Americans will control the cane sugar trade, the tobacco trade, and the hemp trade, in addition to the vast branches of production they now hold in their hands.

CHAPTER XIX.

LIFE IN MANILA.

(A CHAPTER FOR THE LADIES.)

Climate--Seasons--Terrible Month of May--Hot winds--Longing for rain--Burst of the monsoon--The Alimoom--Never sleep on the ground floor--Dress--Manila houses--Furniture--Mosquitoes--Baths--Gogo--Servants--Wages in 1892--The Maestro cook--The guild of cooks--The Mayordomo--Household budget, 1892--Diet--Drinks--Ponies--Carriage a necessity for a lady--The garden--Flowers--Shops--Pedlars--Amus.e.m.e.nts--Necessity of access to the hills--Good Friday in Manila.

Climate.

The average shade temperature of Manila all the year round is 83 Fahrenheit. The highest I have ever seen there was 96, at 2 P.M. in May, and the lowest 68, at 6 A.M. in December.

The temperature of the sea-water on the sh.o.r.e at Malate is usually 82, and that of well-water about the same. The water-pipes from the reservoir at San Juan del Monte are not buried, but are carried on an embankment. They are partly shaded from the sun by clumps of bamboos, but on a hot afternoon the water sometimes attains a temperature of 90.

Those figures are high, yet the heat is mitigated by the sea-breeze, and the nights are usually cool enough to allow a refres.h.i.+ng sleep.

The climate of Manila is not harmful to the const.i.tutions of healthy Europeans or Americans between twenty and fifty years of age, provided they at once adopt a mode of life suitable to the country, and in clothing, diet, habits and recreations, adapt themselves to the new conditions. On the other hand, I apprehend that, for persons of either s.e.x over fifty who have had no previous experience of life in the tropics, there will be great difficulty in acclimatising themselves, and the mortality amongst such will be abnormal. Ladies' complexions will not suffer more than if they lived in a steam-heated house in Harlem, New York.

In all this part of the world the weather depends upon the monsoons. These blow with great regularity over the ocean, six months from the north-east and six months from the south-west. Their action on any particular place is, however, modified by the situation of mountains with regard to that place. The changes of the monsoon occur in April--May and October--November. It is the south-west monsoon that brings rain to Manila, and it has a fine stretch of the China Sea to career over, all the way, in fact, from the sh.o.r.es of Sumatra, till it drives the billows tumbling and foaming into the bay.

The typhoons form far out in the Pacific near the region of the Western Carolines, and, whirling round the opposite way to the hands of a watch, they proceed on a curve that may strike Luzon, or, perhaps, go on for a thousand miles or more, and carry death and destruction to the fishermen of Fo Kien or j.a.pan.

When a typhoon pa.s.ses clear, the usual result is several days of continuous heavy rain, but the air is cleared and purified. But should the vortex of the cyclone pa.s.s over your residence, you will not be likely to forget it for the rest of your life.

The year in Manila may be roughly divided into three seasons:--

Rainy Season--June, July, August, September. In these four months about 100 inches of rain may fall, and 20 more in the rest of the year.

Cool Season (so-called)--October, November, December, January.

Hot Season--February, March, April, May.

May is the terrible month of the year, the month of fevers and funerals. Let all who can, leave Manila before this month arrives.

Hot, dry winds, dust-laden, pervade the houses, and have such an effect even on well-seasoned hardwoods, that tables, wardrobes and door-panels, split from end to end, or from top to bottom, with a noise like a pistol-shot, leaving cracks a quarter of an inch wide that gape till the rainy season restores the moisture.

At this time the heat is at its maximum, and all nature gasps or fades. Not a drop of rain has fallen for months, the roads are inches deep in dust, the rivers nearly stagnant, and covered with a green sc.u.m, the whole country quite brown, the vegetation burnt up by the sun. Only the c.o.c.kroaches rejoice; at this season they fly at night, and you may have a few fine specimens of the Blatta Orientalis alight on your face, or on the back of your neck, should you doze a moment on your long chair. Personally, I am proof against a good deal, but must confess that the hairy feet of a c.o.c.kroach on my face or neck make me shudder.

As the month draws to a close, every afternoon the storm-clouds gather over the Antipolo Hills. All Manila, lying in the glare and dust, prays for rain. Overhead, a sky like burnished copper darts down heat-rays that penetrate the roofs, and literally strike the heads of the occupants. The dry air is surcharged with electricity to such an extent that every living thing feels the powerful influence; the sweetest natures become irritable, and quite ready to admit that "this is, indeed, a beastly world."

The nervous system suffers, the newspapers relate cases of stabbing, or even running amok amongst the natives, and perhaps some suicides occur. If, as not unfrequently happens, you should at this time receive an invitation to the funeral of a friend or compatriot just deceased from typhoid fever, and to be buried within twenty-four hours, you will begin to wonder whether Manila is good enough for you. Day after day the rain-clouds disperse amidst the rumbling of a distant thunder-storm, and day after day do longing eyes watch for their coming, and hope for the cloud-burst.

At last, when the limit of endurance seems reached, a cool breath of air heralds the downpour. The leaves rustle, the feathery bamboos incline before the blast, the sky darkens, the cataracts of heaven are loosed, and the water tumbles down in torrents.

Now keep yourself in the house, and on the upper floor, and let the water from your roofs run to waste. The natives, usually so careless of a wetting, avoid bathing or wetting themselves with the first waters, which they consider dangerous, and not without reason. The exhalations from the newly-wetted earth are to be avoided; these earth-vapours are called by the Tagals Alimoom. Now the dust is washed off the roofs and leaves, and in three days the fallows are covered with small shoots of gra.s.s or weeds, the maidenhair ferns and mosses spring from every stone wall. The reign of dust is over; the reign of mud begins. Now the frogs inaugurate their nightly concerts. After a time you get used to the deafening noise; you do not even hear it. But they suddenly stop, and you are astonished at the stillness.

As the rainy season proceeds, the air is almost entirely saturated with moisture: the saturation in August sometimes exceeds 97 per cent.

Now green mould will grow upon your boots and other leather articles, if left a couple of days without cleaning. Everything feels damp, and it is a good plan to air your wardrobe round a brazier of red-hot charcoal.

You will have noticed that the natives universally build their houses upon piles. So do the Malays all over the Far East. This is the expression of the acc.u.mulated experience of centuries, and you will be wise to conform to it by never sleeping on the ground floor. To a dweller in the Philippines this tip is worth the price of the book.

Dress.

The dress of both s.e.xes should be as light as possible; my advice is, wear as little as possible, and wear it thin and loose. The access of air to the body is necessary to carry off the perspiration, some of which is in the form of vapour.

Ladies will find the greatest comfort in the simple but elegant dresses called batas, which are princess robes made of embroidered cambric or lawn. The materials for these dresses can be purchased in Manila, and excellent sempstresses and embroiderers can be hired at moderate wages, and the dresses made in the house. For the evenings, thin silk or muslin dresses, cut low, are most suitable.

Men who are young and robust should wear white duck jackets, and trousers without waistcoats. Elderly men, or those subject to rheumatism, will do well to wear thin flannel suits. The material for these can be got in Hong Kong. For travelling and shooting, unbleached linen, guingon, or rayadillo, is the best material, made into Norfolk jackets and pantaloons. I always found white or brown leather shoes the best wear, and canvas shooting-boots capped and strapped with leather. A Panama hat, or a solar topee, is the best head-wear. If one has to be much in the sun, a white umbrella, lined with green, should be carried. Dress is not an expensive item in Manila. Up to 1892, the was.h.i.+ng for a whole family, with bed and table-linen, could be done for $12 per month.

Houses.

Most of the older houses in Manila are of ample size, and well suited to the climate, but some of the newer ones, built to the designs of a Spanish architect, and having gla.s.s windows, are very hot and uncomfortable. It is essential to live in a good-sized house, so as to escape the heat by moving to a different part as the sun goes round. Thus you will have your early breakfast in one corner of the balcony; your tiffin, perhaps, on the ground floor; your tea in the open corridor looking on the garden, and your dinner, at 7.30 P.M., in the dining-room under the punkah.