At Christmas, 1884, I went to Laguimanoc in the Province of Tayabas to spend a few days with an English friend of mine. [110] On the way there, at Sariaya, I stayed at the house of the Captain of the Civil Guard, when a message came to say that an attack had been made the night before on my friend's house, his manager, a Swede, having been killed, and many others in the village wounded. The Captain showed me the despatch, and invited me to join him as a volunteer to hunt down the murderers. I agreed, and within half an hour we were mounted and on their track all through that dark night, whilst the rain poured in torrents. Four native soldiers were following us on foot. We jumped over ditches, through rice-paddy fields and cocoanut plantations, and then forded a river, on the opposite bank of which was the next guards' post in charge of a lieutenant, who joined us with eight foot-soldiers. That same night we together captured five of the wretches, who had just beached a canoe containing part of their spoils. The prisoners were bound elbows together at their backs and sent forward under escort. We rode on all night until five o'clock the next morning, arriving at the convent of Pagbilao just as Father Jesus was going down to say Mass. I had almost lost my voice through being ten hours in the rain; but the priest was very attentive to us, and we went on in a prahu to the village where the crime had been committed. In another prahu the prisoners were sent in charge of the soldiers. In the meantime, the Chief Judge and the Government Doctor of the province had gone on before us. On the way we met a canoe going to Pagbilao, carrying the corpse of the murdered Swede for burial. When we arrived at Laguimanoc, we found one native dead and many natives and Chinese badly wounded. My friend's house had the front door smashed in--an iron strong-box had been forced, and a few hundred pesos, with some rare coins, were stolen. The furniture in the dining-room was wantonly hacked about with bowie-knives, only to satisfy a savage love for mischief. His bedroom had been entered, and there the brigands began to make their harvest; the bundles of wearing-apparel, jewellery, and other valuables were already tied up, when lo! the Virgin herself appeared, casting a penetrating glance of disapproval upon the wicked revelry! Forsaking their plunder, the brigands fled in terror from the saintly apparition. And when my friend re-entered his home and crossed the bloodstained floor of the dining-room to go to his bedroom, the cardboard Virgin, with a trade advertisement on the back, was still peeping round the door-jamb to which she was nailed, with the words "Please to shut the door" printed on her spotless bust.