and have been aping Spanish manners and customs for a century or two, and while by these means and the mixture of Spanish and Asiatic blood they have been tinctured with civilization and thus lost most of their original characteristics, the Sulu islands, having been but recently occupied and never dominated, are still in every sense Suluan. Spanish influence has robbed the Christian Filipino of the Oriental charm which stamps, each in a different way, the Japanese, the Chinese, the Siamese, and even the British Indian; but in Sulu one meets it again, more crude, more barbaric than ever; and for this reason more than any other, Sulu is the most interesting part of the Philippines.

My first close view of the Joloanos was in the native market at Bus-Bus, which is held every morning in the dirty street running along the shore parallel with the water village. Here one can see the Sulu islander in all his gorgeousness of raiment and all his dirtiness, and here one can buy any of the island products, from a silver-handled kris to a shark's fin, from a peal to those greatest of delicacies, halfhatched eggs. Great quantities of brilliantly colored fish were for sale, and an unusually large variety of fruits; of the latter I noted mangosteens, nancas, langsats, two kinds of mangoes, bananas, lancones, cocoas, and, for the first time in the Philippines, that ill-smelling, medley-flavored, and most fascinating of tropical fruits, the durian. Alfred Russel Wallace calls the durian the "king of fruits," and I think all those who, like him, have acquired the taste, will second the appellation; but for the average man, whose sense of smell prevents him from making a further acquaintance, the durian is a lost delight. I fear a description of the flavor is impossible, but if you can imagine a mixture of onions, apricots, nuts, custard, strawberries, honey, and gooseberry fool, you may form a faint idea of it. Other edibles spread upon the ground were camotes,

tapioca root, fowls, turtles, and shell-fish, intermingled with which were hairy Borneo apes, crimson parrots from the Celebes, gaudy turban squares, jabuls, sarongs, palm-leaf hats and mats, spears, shells, brass betel-boxes, and other curios. But the people themselves were of chief interest. An incongruous crowd it was; a curious display of silks and rags, jeweled hands and bare feet, barbaric magnificence and personal filth; the women in baggy trousers and tight jackets so ingrained with dirt that the original hue was indistin

guishable; the men strutting and posing in garments which for variety of crude color would have put the historical coat of Joseph to shame. One fellow I sawhe was indolently watching his wife selling buyo-was decked out in a pair of skintight trousers embroidered with silk in stripes of orange, red, and green, and buttoned from ankle to calf with small pearl discs. His waist was encircled many times by a flaring sash, also of many colors, which held in position, ready for instant use, a small kris dagger (puñal), and a splendid ivory-handled barong in a carved narra scabbard. A tight A tight Eton jacket of apple green, with sleeves reaching to the knuckles, partially covered his upper half; and a howling yellow and red turban crowned the costume. Scarlet jackets, however, seemed to be more generally favored, and the red Turkish fez, a sure sign of the Mussulman, often took the place of the turban, so that red, either solid or in a mixture, was the dominant color of the crowd. One of the most noticeable and disgusting things in a Moro congregation is their betel-chewing. Not content with the usual buyo, bonga, and lime mixture, the Moro adds mastic and tobacco, thus making five ingredients for one chew. Both men and women file their teeth concave in front and sharpen them at the edges, and the tobacco seems to be used mainly to rub into the teeth and keep them ebony

black. As a result of this mixture, and the fact that both sexes chew continually, copious spitting is always in evidence, and the women particularly show a red high-water mark round their mouth, which does not add to their beauty. A Moro lady's smile, indeed, is one of the most unlovely things on earth. The well-worn expression "he smiled darkly" surely must have originated with a people who blackened their teeth. At the further end of the street Moros from the interior were coming in with farm products packed on ponies and carabaos; the men in pyramid nipa hats adorned with colored tassels, their wives riding astride amidst the merchandise. Everywhere were brown masses of naked children up to ten or eleven years of age, and everywhere men armed with the most splendid but awful weapons that the world produces.

The favorite Joloan weapons are the kris, the barong, and the campilan. The kris is sometimes straight, sometimes serpentine, and again wavy, from hilt to point, but in all cases it is a double-edged sword with a hilt of carved wood, silver, or ivory. The barong, though similarly hilted, is a short, heavy blade almost oval in shape,

edged only on one side, and terminate a sharp point. The blade of the d pilan, on the other hand, is unusually and broadens toward the end; its ha is invariably of wood, grotesquely car and ornamented with dyed horsehair small bells. All these and other Ph pine knives are guarded by wooden s bards, occasionally inlaid with O woods or banded with silver; and all kept faultlessly bright and keen. blades, too, are often inlaid with silver gold. The Moro is exceedingly proud of arms; his kris, or whatever his favo weapon may be, is ever at his side, whet he be fishing, working afield, or rest in the "bosom of his family;" and night it lies unsheathed at his hand. swift, well-directed blow from either or barong will halve a man or send head a-rolling.

In appearance, indeed, the Moro i fierce, warlike fellow, and if one were believe all that is said about him, es cially by the Spaniards, who, in Jolo least, were confessedly terrorized by h one would never venture within reach his strong right arm. But I cannot h feeling that the Spanish estimate of M

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character was wrongly figured. Spaniards began by giving the Moro credit for being a born warrior and a brave man; and, having been victims of treachery on not a few occasions, they straightway encompassed themselves by walls and forts, disarmed every marketman who entered the gates, limited the number who might enter, and in a hundred ways showed their savage enemies that they feared them. Evidences such as these make the greatest coward brave. This resulted in Spain being perpetually at war with the Moros. When American forces came to relieve the Spanish garrison at Jolo, they found the little town nightly mounting a guard of one hundred men, the disarming station outside the gate wired like a cage, and the general conditions of a besieged town. Our officers were regaled with blood-curdling stories of Moro treachery, and warned not to leave the walls without a strong force. In spite of these stories and warnings, however, our officers did leave the walls; they passed out into the country, climbed the

hills, and visited the datus, not only unattended but unarmed; and, while the Spaniards gasped, the Americans taught the bloodthirsty savage to shake hands. At first the savage was naturally suspicious; he said, "What kind of people are these Americans, who come among us without soldiers or guns? They must carry some deadlier weapons hidden under their clothes." In one case, that of Lieutenant Kobbe, when he went into Datu Jaukanine's village, the chief asked the officer if he objected to being searched. The Lieutenant laughingly replied that he had not the slightest objection; and after the suspicious crowd had satisfied themselves that he had no concealed arms, they showed the greatest friendliness. This show of confidence, and above all fearlessness, on the part of the American officers impressed the Moros far more than any display of arms would have done; they saw that they no longer had a timid enemy to deal with, but a race evidently their superiors and yet friendly; and they changed ground at once. Since that

time, contrary to the opinion of all those who claimed to know the Moros, the friendly relations between them and the Americans have grown steadily stronger, and, at the time I visited Jolo, after nearly a year's travel in the Philippines, the Sulu group was the first part I had found which was wholly at peace with the United States, and the only island in the archipelago through which a white man might travel alone in safety.

The Moro, to my mind, is at once an overrated and a much-maligned person; overrated as to his fighting qualities and bravery, maligned in the matter of character. Notwithstanding much opinion to the contrary, I have yet to find it substantiated that the Moro ever seeks an open hand-to-hand conflict, or that he fights in anything but a treacherous and, from our standpoint, a cowardly manner. In the petty wars which are constantly being waged between rival datus, the combatants seldom come together, but generally intrench themselves at a very safe distance apart, and while the main body keeps up an intermittent fire, small parties endeavor to capture their enemies' wives, slaves, and cattle. But though the Moro avoids meeting his foe face to face, he never misses an opportunity to spear him from the long grass, to cut him down from behind, or to slay him while asleep. The significant fact that Moro weapons are made without hand-guards is sufficient evidence that they are not intended for dueling or fencing, but rather for assassination. One of the little Moro wars was in progress on the south side of the island of Jolo during my stay there. It continued some six weeks, and was finally ended by American interference, with a total loss of two men. Cruel, cunning, treacherous, and cowardly as the Moro undoubtedly is, he is not, however, without some good points. Comparing the Mohammedan Moro with the Christian Tagalog or Visayan, I am constrained to believe that the Mohammedan, though less intelligent and, as we view it, wholly uncivilized, has more honesty, more constancy, and a higher sense of honor than the Christian; he makes a worse enemy but a stancher friend, and is, on the whole, decidedly more of a man. Personally, I would put myself in the hands of a Moro friend with far greater confidence than I could ever do with any

Christian Filipino I have yet known. these reasons I do not feel, as many that the Moro is either a formid enemy or a menace to Philippine pe If the same tact be used with this rac the future that Generals Bates and Ko have exercised and the latter is still e cising, the Moro will soon become inten American, and in time be as good as ject as one can expect a dyed-in-the-w Malay-Mohammedan ex-pirate to beco In thus helping to destroy traditions picturesque and so tempting to enla upon, I feel that I owe my fellow-wri an apology; but the Moro needs a g word said in his behalf.

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There is a word, too, to be said conce ing that greatest of Moro bugaboos, juramentado. The idea has gone abro and is, I think, generally believed, t juramentados are Moslem fanatics w deliberately prepare themselves for de for the sole purpose of slaying Christia and that their appearance is almost every-day affair. Most writers of the P ippines, whether through error or not cannot say, certainly give this impressio if they do not actually say so. Forem in one place describes them as a "class and in another place as a sect;" W cester says, "From time to time it happe that one of them [the Moros] wearies this life, and, desiring to take the shorte road to glory, he bathes in a sacred sprin shaves off his eyebrows, dresses in whit and presents himself before a pandita take solemn oath (juramentar) to d killing Christians;" and Mr. Lala, Philippine gentleman, devotes severa pages of lurid word-painting to the "fa natic." Now, running amok is one of th Malay peculiarities; it is known throughou Malaysia, and the Moro is no exception He has a habit of running amok when h wishes to commit suicide, and then he die not only killing Christians, but every living thing that comes in his path, no matter o what race, creed, or sex. It is true, how ever, that the Moro, after he has made up his mind to amok, goes before a pandita or priest and swears to give his life to the destroying of Christians, but he does not keep his oath; it is taken with the purpose of his being guaranteed future life in the heaven of Mohammed. A recent investigation made by Major J. N. Morrison, Judge Advocate for the Department of