I have before said that I had expressed a wish to have a church built in my village, not only from a religious feeling, but as a means of civilisation: I was particularly desirous of having a curate at Jala-Jala. With this view I requested Monseigneur Hilarion, the archbishop, whose physician I had been, and with whom I was on terms of friendship, to send me a clergyman of my acquaintance, and who was at that time unemployed. I had, however, much difficulty in obtaining this nomination. "Father Miguel de San-Francisco," the archbishop replied, "is a violent man, and very headstrong: you will never be able to live with him." I persisted, however; and as perseverance always produces some result, I at length succeeded in having him appointed curate at Jala-Jala. Father Miguel was of Japanese and Malay descent. He was young, strong, brave, and very capable of assisting me in the difficult circumstances that might occur; as, for example, if it were necessary to defend ourselves against banditti. Indeed I must say that, in spite of the anticipations, and I may add the prejudices, of my honourable friend the archbishop, I kept him with me during the whole time of my abode at Jala-Jala, and never had the slightest difference with him. I can only reproach him with one thing to be regretted, which is that he did not preach sufficiently to his flock. He gave them only one sermon annually, and then his discourse was always the same, and divided into two parts: the first was in Spanish, for our edification, and the second in Tagaloc, for the Indians. Ah! how many men have I since met with who might well imitate the worthy curate of Jala-Jala! To the observations I sometimes made he would reply: "Let me follow my own course, and fear nothing. So many words are not necessary to make a good Christian." Perhaps he was right. Since my departure from the place the good priest is dead, bearing with him to the tomb the regret of all his parishioners.