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

AN OFFICIAL'S WIFE

or back to San Fernando. Imagine our astonishment on finding that, instead of using their poles
an(l punting the balsa over, the men waded through
the river in water only up to their waists, pushing
the raft before them. We were disgusted, especially
the driver, who did not know how to ride a mule,
and did not wish to wet his feet; so he had the raft
make two more trips, one to carry over the animals
and another to take the baggage. We went over in
a small banca, which passengers use in crossing
streams. When we were safe on the other side,
and our luggage packed up and the mules harnessed,
we determined to send natives across every river we
might come to before we again took a raft to cross
in three feet of water.
This experience cost us an hour and a half of
precious time. The roads were bad, and we forded
the next two streams, sending a Filipino before us
to point out the way. There were numbers of bull
carts going our way, too, and we began to smile
at the tales of the dangerous roads, and felt somewhat superior at having insisted on making the trip.
Although a good team, our mules were not speedy,
and our driver was cautious to such a degree that
he made me suspect he was afraid of them. However, we did not worry, but gave ourselves up to
enjoying the sights. I never tire of watching the
Filipinos. They are always gay, and sit in their
windows watching life as it passes. Our appearance
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