As it seems about time to take a longer rest than usual from the labor attendant on waiting for a boom in the hemp market, I hope next week to start off on one of the well-equipped provincial steamers, that makes a run of two thousand miles south, among the sugar-islands and the hemp-ports, and in the next chapter there ought to be a rather long account of what is said to be a very interesting voyage. VIII A Trip to the South--Contents of the "Puchero"--Romblon--Cebu, the Southern Hemp-Centre--Places Touched At--A Rich Indian at Camiguin--Tall Trees--Primitive Hemp-Cleaners--A New Volcano--Mindanao Island--Moro Trophies--Iligan--Iloilo--Back Again at Manila. December 23, 1894. I have just returned from the south, and feel able enough to begin the narrative. On Saturday, December 1, thick clouds obscured the sky, and gusty showers of rain continued to fall until evening, when they formed themselves into a respectable downpour. It was objectionable weather for the dry season just commencing, but the northwest monsoon was said to be heavy outside, and the rain on our east coast evidently slid over the mountains back of Manila, instead of staying where it belonged. Such was the day of starting, while, to cap the climax, just before the advertised leaving-time of the Uranus, word came from the Jesuit observatory that a typhoon was apparently getting ready to sail directly across the course we were to take, and up went signal No. 3 on the flag-staff at the mouth of the river. Philosophers, however, must not be bothered by trifles, and although my friends predicted a miserable voyage, and told me to take all my water-proofs and sou'westers, I went aboard the steamer with a smiling countenance only, followed by three "boys" who deposited my traps in a state-room of lean proportions. At half after seven in the evening the whistle blew, the visitors departed, and the Uranus slowly began to back down the narrow river into the black night. She is one of the largest and newest "province steamers" in the Philippines, and it took a great deal of manipulation to turn her around and get her headed toward the Bay. As large, perhaps, as one of our coasting boats that runs to the West Indies, she has a flush deck from stem to stern, and is ruled over by a very jolly, stubby, little Spanish captain who looks eminently well fed if not so well groomed.