After the whirl on the Luneta, where the military band plays as the oddly-assorted carriages go circling round like fixtures on a steam carousal, the pleasure-seekers leave the driveway on the sea deserted; soldiers and citizens vacate the green benches, and adjourn for dinner. The Spanish life is best seen at the Metropole, where _señors_, _señoritas_, and _señoras_, exquisitely gowned, sip cognac and coffee at the little tables, carrying on an animated conversation, with expressive flashes of bright eyes or gestures with elaborately-jeweled hands. Below, in the Luzon café, the Rizal orchestra is playing the impassioned Spanish waltzes, "_Sobre las Olas," "La Paloma_," to the click of billiard balls and the guffaws of soldiers. When the evening program ends with "_Dixie_," every soldier in a khaki uniform--bronzed, grizzled fellows, many of them back from some campaign out in the provinces--will rise immediately to his feet, respectfully remove his hat, and as the music that reminds him of the home-land swells and gathers volume, fill the corridors with cheer upon cheer as the lights are put out; then the sleeping coachman rouses himself, and starts the reluctant pony on the journey home. Chapter III. The White Man's Life. It happened that my first home in Manila was a temporary one, shared with a hundred others, at the _nipa_ barracks at the Exposition grounds. Who of all those that were similarly situated will forget the long row of mimosa-trees that made a leafy archway over the cool street; or the fruit merchants squatting beside the bunches of bananas and the tiny oranges spread out upon the ground? There was the pink pavilion where that enterprising Chinaman, Ah Gong, conducted his indifferent restaurant. After these many days I can still hear the clatter of the plates, the jingle of the knives and forks, placed on the tables by the Chinese waiters. There was the crowd on the veranda waiting for the second table, opening their correspondence as they waited. And what an indescribable sensation was imparted on receiving the first letter in a foreign land! The long, cool barrack-rooms were swept by the fresh breezes. Here, in the bungalow, the army cots had been arranged in rows and covered by mosquito-bars suspended from the wires stretched overhead. When tucked inside of the mosquito-bar, one felt as though he were a part of a menagerie. "_Muchacho_" was the first new word you learned. It was advisable to call for a _muchacho_ often, even though you did not need his services, in order to exploit your own experience and your superiority. And here you were first cheated by the wily Chinese peddlers--although you had cut them down to half their price--when they unrolled their packs of crêpe pajamas, net-work underwear, and other merchandise.