There is now pretty free coinage of Mexican dollars and they answer admirably as 50-cent coins.  That is one of the ways in which free coinage of silver removes prejudices against the white metal; no one thinks of objecting to a Mexican dollar as a half-dollar, and our boys, paid in American gold, have a feeling that their wages are raised because all over the city one of their dollars counts two in the settlement of debts.  These useful American dollars are admitted free of duty.

The headquarters of the American administration in Manila are in the city hall, situated in the walled city, with a park in front that plainly has been neglected for some time.  It also fronts upon the same open square as the cathedral, while beyond are the Jesuit College and the Archbishop’s palace.  Just around the corner is a colossal church, and a triangular open space that has a few neglected trees and ought to be beautiful but is not.  A street railroad passes between the church and the triangle, and the mule power is sufficient to carry at a reasonable rate a dozen Spanish officers and as many Chinamen.  The fare is 1 cent American—­that is, 2 cents Philippine—­and the other side of the river you are entitled to a transfer, but the road is short and drivers cheap.  There is a system of return coupons that I do not perfectly understand.  The truth about the street railway system is that there is very little of it in proportion to the size of the city, but the average ride costs about 1 cent.  If the Americans stay there is an opening for a trolley on a long line.

There is no matter of business that does not depend upon the question:  Will the Americans stay?  If they do all is well; if they do not all is ill, and enterprise not to be talked of.

The most important bridge across the Pasig is the bridge of Spain.  The street railway crosses it.  The carriages and the coolies, too, must keep to the left.  It is the thoroughfare between the new and old cities, and at all hours of the day is thronged.  It is a place favored by the native gig drivers to whip heavily laden coolies out of the way.  A big Chinaman with powerful limbs, carrying a great burden, hastens to give the road to a puny creature driving a puny pony, lashing it with a big whip, and scrambles furiously away from a two-wheeler whirling along a man able to pay a 10-cent fare.

In other days when one passed this bridge he faced the botanical gardens, which had a world-wide reputation, an attraction being a wonderful display of orchids.  There were also beautiful trees; now there are only stumps, disfigurements and desolation—­some of the horrors of war.  The gardens were laid waste by the Spaniards as a military precaution.  As they seem to have known that they could not or would not put up a big fight for the city, what was the use of the destructiveness displayed in the gardens, parks and along the boulevards?  The fashion of taking a garden and making a desert of it and calling it one of the military necessities of war is, however, not peculiar to the chieftains of Spain.