[A convento and the parish priest.] I passed the night in a convento, as the dwelling of the parish priest is called in the Philippines.  It was extremely dirty, and the priest, an Augustinian, was full of proselytish ardor.  I had to undergo a long geographical examination about the difference between Prussia and Russia; was asked whether the great city of Nuremberg was the capital of the grand-duchy or of the empire of Russia; learnt that the English were on the point of returning to the bosom of the Catholic Church, and that the “others” would soon follow, and was, in short, in spite of the particular recommendation of Father Llanos, very badly received.  Some little time afterwards I fell into the hands of two young Capuchins, who tried to convert me, but who, with the exception of this little impertinence, treated me capitally.  They gave me pates de foie gras boiled in water, which I quickly recognized by the truffles swimming about in the grease.  To punish them for their importunity I refrained from telling my hosts the right way to cook the pates, which I had the pleasure of afterwards eating in the forest, as I easily persuaded them to sell me the tins they had left.  These are the only two occasions on which I was subjected to this kind of annoyance during my eighteen months’ residence in the Philippines.

[Arrangements for travellers.] The traveller who is provided with a passport is, however, by no means obliged to rely upon priestly hospitality, as he needs must do in many isolated parts of Europe.  Every village, every hamlet, has its commonhouse, called casa real or tribunal, in which he can take up his quarters and be supplied with provisions at the market price, a circumstance that I was not acquainted with on the occasion of my first trip.  The traveller is therefore in this respect perfectly independent, at least in theory, though in practice he will often scarcely be able to avoid putting up at the conventos in the more isolated parts of the country.  In these the priest, perhaps the only white man for miles around, is with difficulty persuaded to miss the opportunity of housing such a rare guest, to whom he is only too anxious to give up the best bedroom in his dwelling, and to offer everything that his kitchen and cellar can afford.  Everything is placed before the guest in such a spirit of sincere and undisguised friendliness, that he feels no obligation, but on the contrary easily persuades himself that he is doing his host a favor by prolonging his stay.  Upon one occasion, when I had determined, in spite of an invitation from the padre, to occupy the casa real, just as I was beginning to instal myself, the priest appeared upon the scene with the municipal officials and a band of music which was in the neighborhood pending the preparations for a religious festival.  He made them lift me up, chair and all, and with music and general rejoicing carried me off to his own house.