“That no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law; that private property shall not be taken for public use without just compensation; that in all criminal prosecutions the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation, to be confronted with the witnesses against him, to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favour, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defence; that excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishment inflicted; that no person shall be put twice in jeopardy for the same offence, or be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself; that the right to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures shall not be violated; that neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall exist except as a punishment for crime; that no bill of attainder or ex-post-facto law shall be passed; that no law shall be passed abridging the freedom of speech or of the press, or the rights of the people to peaceably assemble and petition the Government for a redress of grievances; that no law shall be made respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, and that the free exercise and enjoyment of religious profession and worship without discrimination or preference shall forever be allowed.”

It has been the fashion in some quarters to sneer at the last of these paragraphs, and to insinuate, if not to charge, that President McKinley in his policy toward the Philippine Islands was actuated by unworthy motives.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  From the beginning to the end the real good of the several peoples of the archipelago came first with him, and no one who had the privilege of knowing him well doubts it.  Thoroughly imbued with the lofty sentiments expressed by him in our instructions, we set forth on our long pilgrimage to a country where we were to undertake a heavy task essentially different from that which had ever before fallen to the lot of any five citizens of the United States.

On April 17, 1900, we sailed from San Francisco on the United States army transport Hancock.  We were forty-five strong.  Of this goodly company only four remain in the Philippines to-day, [458]—­Mr. and Mrs. Branagan, Mrs. Worcester and myself.  Singularly enough, with two exceptions, all of the others are still alive and at work.  Arthur W. Ferguson, prince of interpreters, who was later appointed Executive Secretary, died in the service after more than six years of extraordinarily faithful and efficient work.  James A. LeRoy, my faithful, able and efficient private secretary, contracted tuberculosis, and fell a victim to it after a long and gallant fight.

At Honolulu we met with a severe disappointment.  It was of course our duty to call on Governor Dole.  We were advised that silk hats and frock coats must be donned for this visit, and it was perishing hot.  We reached the palace in a reeking perspiration and had a long wait in a suffocating room.  When Mr. Dole appeared, he was closely followed by an attendant bearing a large and most attractive-looking bottle carefully wrapped in a napkin, and our spirits rose.  But, alas!  It contained Poland water.