Next morning we got our first taste of the monsoon, and it came up pretty rough as we crossed some of the broad, open spaces between the islands. There were three dozen passengers aboard ship, and everybody, including four dogs, was desperately sea-sick. But sheltering islands soon brought relief to the prevailing misery, the dogs recovered their equilibrium enough to renew the curl in their tails, and the heaving vessel grew quite still. We touched again at Romblon, on our way up, long enough to get the mail and bring off an unshaven padre or two, bound up to the capital for spiritual refreshment, and for the last time headed for Manila. The monsoon apparently went down with the sun; we were not troubled further with heaving waters, and early on Thursday morning passed through the narrow mouth of Manila Bay, just as the sun was rising in the east, and the full moon setting over Mariveles in the west. The Uranus made a short run across the twenty-seven miles of water to the anchorage among the shipping, and everybody bundled ashore in a noisy launch, almost before the town had had its breakfast. In the afternoon, when the steamer came into the river, I brought all of my arms, armor, and shells ashore to the office, and the American skippers who were waiting for free breezes from the punkah began outbidding each other with offers of baked beans and doughnuts for the whole collection. At home, the house had not been blown away, but was firm as ever; the dogs rejoiced to see me back; the cat, with a crook in her tail, purred extra loudly; the ponies, that had grown fat on lazy living, pawed the stone floor in the stable; the boy put flowers on the table for dinner and peas in the soup, and the moon looked in on us in full dress. Thus ended a fortnight's trip of some two thousand miles down through the arteries of the archipelago. IX Club-house Chaff--Christmas Customs and Ceremonies--New Year's Calls--A Dance at the English Club--The Royal Exposition of the Philippines--Fireworks on the King's Fête Day--Electric Lights and the Natives--The Manila Observatory--A Hospitable Governor--The Convent at Antipolo. December 26th. "'A young Bostonian, in business in the Philippines,' that is you, isn't it?" "'Trembling like a blushing bride before the altar.'" "Well, blushing bride, how are you?" "'The bells in the old church rang out a wild, warning plea.' They did, did they? And did, 'The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea?'" "'The fishermen's wives were sitting on their saucepans, furniture, and babies, to keep them from sailing off skyward.' Poor things! Quite witty, weren't they?" These were some of the expressions that greeted me as I entered the Club the other evening, about two hours after the last mail arrived.