I have worked for the good of my native land, I have consecrated my life to the welfare of others. We need criticism to keep us awake. It makes us see our weaknesses so that we may correct them. There are three ways in which one may accompany the course of progress: in front of, beside, or behind it. Where are the young men who will consecrate their best years, their ambitions and their enthusiasms to the welfare of their native land? MARIANG MAKILING (This story is a favorite in my town.) Mariang Makiling was a young woman. She lived somewhere on the beautiful mountain Makiling, between Laguna province and Tayabas province. No one knew just where or how she lived. Some said she lived in a beautiful palace surrounded by gardens. Others said she lived in a poor hut made of nipa and bamboo. Maria was tall and graceful. Her color was a clear, pure brown, kayumanging kaligatan, as the Tagalogs say. Her eyes were big and black. Her hair was long and thick. Her hands and feet were small and delicate. She was a fairy-like creature born under the moon-beams of the Philippines. She flitted in and out among the woods of Makiling. She was the ruling spirit of the mountain; but she seldom came within sight of man. Hunters sometimes saw Maria on the night of Good Friday when they went out to trap deer. She would be standing motionless on the edge of some great cliff. Her long hair floated in the wind. She sometimes approached them. She would salute them gravely, then pass on and disappear among the shadows of the trees. They never dared to question her, to follow her, or to watch her. She liked best to appear after a storm. Then she would scurry over the fields bringing back life to the fallen plants, and setting everything to rights. The trees straightened up their wind-blown trunks. The streams went back into their beds. All signs of the storm disappeared as she passed. Mariang Makiling had a very good heart. She used to lend the poor country folk clothing or jewels for weddings, baptisms and feast days. All she asked in return was a pullet as white as milk. It had to be a dumalaga; that is, one that had never laid an egg. Sometimes she appeared as a simple country girl and helped the poor old women to pick up firewood. Then she would slip gold nuggets, coins and jewels into their bundles of wood. A hunter was one day chasing a wild boar through the tall grass and thorny bushes. Suddenly he came to a hut in which the animal hid. A beautiful young woman came out and said: "The wild boar belongs to me. You have done wrong to chase it, but I see that you are very tired. Your arms and legs are covered with blood. Come in and eat. Then you may go on your way."