The mysterious deaths of General Solano (August 1860) and of Zamora, the Bishop-elect of Cebu (1873), occurred so opportunely for Philippine monastic ambition that little doubt existed in the public mind as to who were the real criminals. When I first arrived in Manila, a quarter of a century ago, a fearful crime was still being commented on. Father Piernavieja, formerly parish priest of San Miguel de Mayumo, had recently committed a second murder. His first victim was a native youth, his second a native woman _enceinte_. The public voice could not be raised very loudly then against the priests, but the scandal was so great that the criminal friar was sent to another province--Cavite--where he still celebrated the holy sacrifice of the Eucharist. Nearly two decades afterwards--in January 1897--this rascal met with a terrible death at the hands of the rebels. He was in captivity, and having been appointed "Bishop" in a rebel diocese, to save his life he accepted the mock dignity; but, unfortunately for himself, he betrayed the confidence of his captors, and collected information concerning their movements, plans, and strongholds for remittance to his Order. In expiation of his treason he was bound to a post under the tropical sun and left there to die. See how the public in Spain are gulled! In a Malaga newspaper this individual was referred to as a "venerable figure, worthy of being placed high up on an altar, before which all Spaniards should prostrate themselves and adore him. As a _religieux_ he was a most worthy minister of the Lord; as a patriot he was a hero." Within my recollection, too, a friar absconded from a Luzon Island parish with a large sum of parochial funds, and was never heard of again. The late parish priests of Mandaloyan and Iba did the same. I well remember another interesting character of the monastic Orders. He had been parish priest in a Zambales province town, but intrigues with a _soi-disant cousine_ brought him under ecclesiastical arrest at the convent of his Order in Manila. Thence he escaped, and came over to Hong-Kong, where I made his acquaintance in 1890. He told me he had started life in an honest way as a shoemaker's boy, but was taken away from his trade to be placed in the seminary. His mind seemed to be a blank on any branch of study beyond shoemaking and Church ritual. He pretended that he had come over to Hong-Kong to seek work, but in reality he was awaiting his _cousine_, whom he rejoined on the way to Europe, where, I heard, he became a _garcon de cafe_ in France.