Unofficial letters of an official's wife [by] Edith Moses.

UNOFFICIAL LETTERS OF

the walls. On the beautiful table was a cheap china
bowl and two china vases filled with soiled artificial
flowers. But what most attracted my astonished
gaze were four painted tin cats standing around the
table.
Our hostess sat beside me in a white dressing
sack, at the other side sat Sefor Garcia, and beyond
and opposite was a row of persons of all hues
from almost black to very light brown; from the
old man who I said wore his shirt outside his
trousers, to Sefior Lamberto, one of the handsomest
men I have met in Manila. He was in Aguinaldo's
cabinet and very prominent politically. He is pale
and looks like a Spaniard, but is a mestizo. We
talked a few moments and then Elena was invited
to play, which she did to the great delight of the
company and to our agony. I afterwards spoke of
the difficulty in this climate of keeping a piano in
tune on account of the rusting of the strings, but
this did not appeal to them. One of the ladies expressed surprise and said: " Do you think so? Why,
our piano belonged to my grandmother and it is
still very good." I had never heard a worse one.
But it is thought that as long as the instrument holds
together it is good. Afterwards one of the girls
played and then Elena was urged to play again. It
was evidently the desire of our hosts to entertain
us. I was curious about the four painted tin cats.
The mystery was soon solved and I learned that
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