We're going up to Lake Lanao, To the town they call Marahui; When the road is built and the Moros killed, We'll none of us be sorry. We're blasting stumps and grading bumps; Our arms and backs are sore, O! We work all day just a dreamin' of our pay, And d----n the husky Moro! When taps sounded, we turned in beneath two blankets in a wall-tent lighted by a feeble lantern. All night long the restless jungle sounds, the whispering of the mysterious forest, and the distant booming of the sea, together with the measured tread of the night sentry, made a lullaby which ought to have worked wonders with the "jim-jam" and the fever patients of the Twenty-eighth. Chapter XVII. The Filipino at Play. As in the pre-Elizabethan days the public amusements consisted of performances by priests and monks on scaffolding set up before the church, mystery plays, "moralities," and "miracles," religious pageants through the village streets,--so in the Philippines, where they have not outlived the fourteenth century, the Church plays an important part in popular _fiestas_. The Christmas holidays are celebrated still by carol singing from house to house, and by the presentation of the old-time "mystery" by strolling bands of actors, with a wax-doll to represent the Sacred Child. Each town, besides the regular church holidays--as indicated by innumerable red marks in the calendar--has a _fiesta_ for its patron saint, which is of more importance even than the "Feast of Aguinaldo" ("Aguinaldo" is their word for "Christmas present"), which is held annually in December. One of these _fiestas_ is announced by the ringing of the church-bells--big bells and little bells all turning somersaults, and being banged as they go round. During the intermissions the municipal band discourses Spanish and Visayan music, coming to the end with a triumphant bang. Only on Holy Friday are the bells abandoned and tin pans and bamboo clappers, sticks and stones, resorted to for purposes of lamentation--functions for which these instruments are perfectly adapted. People come in from far and near, riding in _bancas_ or on ponies, often spending several nights upon the way. The great church at the morning mass is crowded; women faint; and, as the heat increases, it becomes a steaming oven. It is more spectacular at vespers, with the women kneeling among the goats and dogs; the men, uncovered, standing in the shadows of the gallery; the altar sparkling with a hundred candles; and the dying sunlight filtering through mediæval windows. As the resinous incense odor fills the house, through the wide-open doors the sun can be seen setting in its tropical magnificence behind a grove of palms.