To-day three men in red are traveling from house to house with candles followed by an attendant with a bell, ringing away the evil spirits for a year. The councilmen in snowy blouses and blue pantaloons, with their official canes, are making their official calls, and Padre Pedro in his pony cart has been around to visit his parishioners. The band, equipped with brand new uniforms and instruments, is playing underneath the convent balcony. Their duties during the festivities are strenuous; for they must serenade the residence of every magnate in the town, receiving contributions of _pesetas_, cigarettes, and gin. This afternoon we made our round of calls, for every family keeps open house. A number of matinée balls were in session, where the natives danced "clack-clack" around the floor to the monotonous drone of home-made instruments. Our friends all wished us a "_Ma-ayon Pascua_" or "_Feliz Pascua_," for which "Merry Christmas" they expected some remembrance of the day. Our efforts were rewarded by innumerable gifts of cigarettes and many offers of _tanduay_ and gin. At one place we experimented with a piece of "_bud-bud_," which is (as its name implies) a sweet-meat made of rice paste mixed with sugar. The hams with sugar frosting, and the cakes flavored with native limes, and cut in the shape of the "Ensanguined Heart," were more acceptable. At one house we received a cake made in the image of a lamb, with sugar ringlets representing fleece. At our departure, "many thanks, sir, for the visit," and a final attempt to get rid of another cigarette. It is in bad taste to refuse. A Filipino host would feel offended at your not accepting what he offered. He would feel as though discrimination were implied. At night after the cock-fight one droll fellow brought around a miniature marionette theater, of which he was the proud proprietor. While his assistant blew a bamboo flute behind the scenes, the puppets danced fandangoes and played football in a very lifelike manner. Seated on an empty cracker-box in front, surrounded by the ragged picaninnies, sat Dolores, with her sparkling eyes, lips parted, and her black hair hanging loose,--oblivious to everything except the marionettes.