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

UNOFFICIAL LETTERS OF

pink which precedes the break of day. Even at
that early hour the air was tepid. As we approached the bay, on our left the headlands rose
gradually to the Mariveles Mountains: on our
right the coast line was low. Almost dividing the
entrance to Manila Bay stood Corregidor Island.
Vessels usually go in by the Boca Chica, or small
mouth, to the north of Corregidor. The American
squadron passed in through the Boca Grande, or
big mouth, on the memorable first of May. We
could see the small island from which the Spanish
batteries fired futile shots as Dewey stole by in the
darkness. Cavite and the spars and hulls of sunken
Spanish warships were pointed out to us by Mr.
Worcester, who apparently feels as if he were on his
native heath again. The sun rose, a great red ball
of fire, and we felt its penetrating rays before it
had left the horizon. We came to anchor at half
past seven.
At nine o'clock a big steam launch came alongside bringing a large delegation of Filipinos to welcome the Commission. We all crowded to the rail
for the first glimpse of our new fellow-citizens.
They stood on the deck of the launch as it approached, smiling and raising their hats and waving
their hands with the unAnglo-Saxon gesture used
in greeting by all the Latin races. They were
dressed in frock coats with high hats, and under
the tropical sun I could imagine no more uncom2