Mr. Higgins calmly remarked to the secretary that, in his opinion, if the affairs of the Filipino government were managed in the future as they were at present, the proposed republic would be nothing but a cheap farce. The secretary timidly asked what there was to complain about. Then came a tirade from Higgins, ending with, "I am going to lay this * * * before Aguinaldo to-day, and I shall expect you to arrange an interview for my friend and myself." Then, turning to the astonished Millet, he said in English: "It does these chaps good to be talked to straight from the shoulder. Since they came to Malolos, the earth isn't big enough to hold them." This scene on the train is, decidedly, as Thomas Carlyle would say, "of real interest to universal history." Mr. Millet's Government was a lion about to eat a lamb, but the head of his nation, Mr. McKinley, clothed with absolute authority in the premises for the nonce, was balking at the diet. Now, Mr. Millet rather admired the British boldness, just as a Northern man likes to hear a Southerner talk straight from the shoulder to a "darkey." As soon as the era of good feeling was over, our people quit treating the Filipinos as Perry did the Japanese in 1854, and began calling them "niggers." In fact the commanding general found it necessary a little later to put a stop to this pernicious practice among the soldiers by issuing a General Order prohibiting it. But Mr. Millet's admiration would have been somewhat toned down had he known what we found out later. The real secret of Higgins's personal arrogance was this. The Filipino government needed his railroad in its business. During the war which followed, the insurgents long controlled a large part of this railway, from Manila to Dagupan, which was the only railway in the Philippines. The railway properties suffered much damage incident to the war, and--just how willingly is beside the question--the company rendered material aid to the insurgent cause. So much did they render, that when Higgins had the assurance later to want our Government to pay the damages his properties had suffered at the hands of the insurgents, our government at Manila promptly turned his claim down. Subsequently the London office of his company actually inveigled the British Foreign Office into making representation to our State Department about the matter--obviously a very grave step, in international law. The claim was promptly turned down by Washington also, and, happily, that "closed the incident." [136] Having exploded Mr. Millet's bubble, let us resume the thread of his story: We reached the station [at Malolos] in about an hour and a half. * * * The town numbers perhaps thirty or forty thousand people. * * * From the first humble nipa shack to the great square where the convent stands, thousands of insurgent flags fluttered from every window and every post. * * * Every man had an insurgent tri-color cockade in his hat.