others.  As there are not enough boys for every nouse, I have made arrangements that those who live in neighboring houses should assemble in the chief of these, and respond to the boy who sings.  In those houses of prominent persons the singing does not cease, day or night.  All this our Lord has accomplished, by subduing their headmen—­especially Silongan, who by his many wives (six in number), and the large buguei (that is, the dowry) which he had given them, was held back as if by fetters:  and yet he freed himself from his bonds, by divorcing the five wives, and keeping only his first one.  Then, after a sermon by Father Manuel Martinez, he fell upon his knees in public, and sought baptism; thereupon I embraced him and drew forth a crucifix, which he adored.  I encouraged him to persevere, and those who were looking on to imitate him; and at that it seemed as if all were conquered.  On that day arrived a rich cargo of silk and gold; we baptized a son of his, and he himself will receive the sacrament when he shall learn the doctrine.”  Here the letter ends.

In the month of April of the same year, Father Juan del Campo, with the brother Gaspar Gomez, had gone to the northern part of the island to the great river of Mindanao, accompanying Captain Estevan Rodriguez de Figueroa, governor of that island, who went with a well-equipped fleet to pacify the rebels and expel the cursed sect of Mahoma.  The brother was soon obliged to return, for the purpose of conveying to Manila the body of the governor, who unfortunately died on the same day when he reached Mindanao.  Father Juan del Campo was left alone with the army, enduring many hardships with the soldiers, and accomplishing good results among them, as well as among the friendly Indians, about which he wrote a copious narrative.  While so engaged death found him, and carried him away—­as I believe, when he was certain of enjoying life—­three months and a half after his arrival at Mindanao.  Although he died alone and without the sacraments, as there was no one to administer them, he met death with great edification, leaving in that camp a sweet odor of sanctity, and the title of a true servant of God.  He was a native of Sevilla, thirty-three years of age and had spent eight years in the religious life; he was overflowing with fervor, and so zealous for the good of souls that all—­whether Indians, Negroes, Spaniards, Chinese, or other peoples—­ever found him disposed to consider himself their debtor, and to succor them with the utmost willingness and alacrity, for which reason he was burdened with many toils and painful nights.  He never lay down for the purpose of slumber, but only when sleep seized him unawares in the midst of his occupations.  He possessed the gift of languages, by which I mean that he learned many with great facility.  He also had the gift of ministering to various peoples and those of different classes at the same time, thoroughly satisfying them all.  At times he delivered three discourses or