Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1924, Page 61

N oo Wallace Irwin, in Letters of a Japanese | DD TIAIAIIIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIADAIAIAAA S To Editor The Star who are mar- riad, therefore forbidden to think of those coocoonut seas where there are 80 many house-parties & no houses. EAREST SIR:—When Hon. S. S. Resolute get her nose poked into the Southern Ad- dition of Pacifick Ocean she commence to behave 50 cow- cattish & flirty that I could at oncely sce that we was approaching to those palm gardens of Nature where authors gZoes to misbehave and write about It. One a. m., while we was scooting along a very steam-heated sexion of the Equatter I wilted down to my cabin for slight chin-shave—and what I find there, by golly? Cousin Nogi rubbing his chest with some sort of greece what smell like several Italian weddings. “You got some tropickal itches, maybe, to be rubbing so plentiful?* I to know. “Not necessily,” he denote. “Togo, where have you put vour steamboat skedule that you forget? We are now on way to South Sea Islands which we mention with Broadway eye-wink. Who await me there for scandalous pupposes? I do not know yet, because there are no telefone. Yet perhapsly she will be a Pooli-kooli maiden with a heart full of jamaica jinjer. This nointment with which 1 greece my chest are called coocoonut butter. I purchase it from ship’s barber shop, price 25c. From its smell it are sip- posed to attract Malay maidens rapidly.” “Is those Malay maidens remarka- biliously beautiful”’ I ask to know. “Observe this foto which I traded ‘with a sailor for a 2nd hand hat,” he negotiate while poking forth portrait of a slightly tinged Venus, garnished ‘with native lettuce. “You should be shamed! I holla, tooking off my shirt. “Nogi, please to leaned me some of your coocoonut butter. Mr. Editor, I wish you would tell your printer not to print this part of my letter. There are something ‘about this hot strip of ocean which ‘would turn Dr. Frank Crane into Mo- hammed. “When arrived into So Seas,” I com- mute, “I shall quit my job of being Gen. Houseworker.” n land there are no houses,” dic- tate Nogi, “such jobs would be use- luss. And so onwards. We got to trop- fckal that we commence to talk like a parrot & behave like a monkey. We think earnestly of those islands where white man have not injured the scenario by putting up a sispen der button factory & a gasoline se ice station. Nothing but Nature. You cannot umagine what a naturalist I got to be. “By hickory,” I mummer in my sleep. “I shall capture 2 doz of those native beauties & sell them to Hon. Flo Ziegfelt!” Thusly you 'see how this land of balm threes & bannannas make potes in a hurry. oxxx ELL, Mr. Editor, our first station were Guam. By sight of that starspangley banner, waving longly over water. I observe that Congress have not yet gave that island away to Japan similar to Phillipines. But my mind was waving elsewhere. Me & Nogi put on so much cocoanut butter that a.m. that we slip into land very shalil nudge. ickal.” Yet what we see there? Enlarged bldg distinctually labelled U. S. Navy Gasoline Station while 6 enraged air- oplanes fly up top and 222 American have first flirtation.” I because I smell most trop- DA IAIAIAD A IAAAIAIADASASAD ST DY AICIAIAIAIAIAAA A SIS, DT . Togo Views South Sea Beauties Schoolboy, Throws Light on Tditions Developed in Literature. ’ § HOP-SKIP STRAIGHT ACROSS 9 YARDS OF FRIED STONES! Marines stood in rows to make us look pleasant. There also were Gov. Sharp in pure white militia uniform. acting very kindhearted because SS Resolute were biggest axcursion boat ever arrived to that dock before. From around every palm & toolub tree approach a flivver to took us somewheres & back again free. This were axtremely axciting. “But where are She?” lowly. “Where are Her™ wards. Around cormer of Gaum Steam Laundry and Dying Works we observe several shapes. Perhapsly they was femaline. Some of them were smok- ing cigars. By closing my eyes and going swiftly I could imagine that one (1) of them were beautiful, axcept for smallpox which she had got. And so onwards. When afternoon p.m. arrive up and we must go back to boat one short Admiral, who look more sinful than others, snatch me secretively aside & report for happy whisper, ‘“There are one Sight maybe you boys would miss boat to see.” His eyes make wink. “Oh eggerly!” I pronounce. “What are it?” “The First Methodist Church,” he dictate. Therefore we escape away from there & in 4 or 7 days we arrive up to_Fiji Islands. Mr.” Editor, from your wise diction- ary maybe you have heard consider- able gossip about Fiji Islands & those cannibles what prefer mission- aries to other beef. I go there ax- pecting to enjoy some delight from this. But what I ind? Missionaries are no longer chewed there. I think I could tell why. Those missionaries what I saw look kind of tomaine & T mummer si Nogi back- cold storage. Yet no soonly our ship were in harbor than 99 X-cannibles all dressed in hay with shark-tooths, violets & nail-flles in their hair, ar- rive aboard boat to teach us their national anthem, of title “Oo ma babl, ah ma loola!” (leave the work to mother). The top of their heads looks like mattresses with the hair on the outside. A lot of that hair are sand- paper blonde—it arrive to that color from rubbing it with chemickal mud what kill all kootikootl ineex residing there. Those Fiji natives are very beautiful, except for their faces & other qualifications. When this native quire sing song they accomply it with Walter Camp axercises of wrist, thumbs, stum- macks & other contortions while chawing American gum. sava leela pie, eeni-meeni-mini-mo!” they sing-song until my heart jumped over. “What sweetish manly voices those gentlemen on front row have got,” I cxclam to a English speaking Eng- lishman benext to me. “Those are not gentlemen, ignoral American,” report Hon. English “They are ladies from our island.” My heart stepped down & got sour. * k kX PRETTY soonly an enlarged gentle- man with more hair than ever came around. He had a respectable face like a Irish clergyman shoveling oal. He wore a American college coat & a lace petticoat with nothing else axcept his barefoot. “Come & meet Sir Howli-Wooli, the last of the Cannible Kings,” dictats Hon. English. I button up my shirt so I would not look too appetizing & tender, and with slightly quaker knees I walk uply. “Sir Howli-Wooli,” commence Hon. English, when I were glad Hon. Can- nible King stopped holding my hand, “our yg friend here wish to enquire about the superior flavor of fried Japanese.” 1 shudder to remember how Hon. Howli look at my delicious wishbone. “My dear chap,” he commence, “you are spoofing me. Of course my grandfather—crutsy old boy. Grand- father—took a s=ocial bite now and then. But we all have our weak- nesses. Do you follow me? Quite so. Mine's cricket. You don’t play. How extrodnry! Do drop in on the Cricket Club. Jolly little diggings. See you there at tea time. Riglyto. Well, 1 must be pressing on.” ¢ When we walk on shore we find a enlarged family of Ford awaiting to take us to Cricket Grounds for to beholt a Great Spectacular of Native Dancing. And surely it was, Mr. Ed- itor. There we find 2 or 7 thousund native chiefs, all arranged with lilies & human bones in their hair while every vegetable from the jungle were disarranged around their waist. In hinds «hey carry huj war-clubters with two prongs, one for poking peo- Die when they are up & one for strok- ing them wheh they are down. That dancing what they gave were more grand and elaboral then they show to Hon. Prince of Wales when he come for last visit; this were quite natural because me & Nogi set prom- inently in middle of grand stand. Mr. Editor, could you umagine 333 beetle-colored warriors, - standing in regular militia rows, stamping large feet, swinging . billy-hawks with drum-major expressions, running at you with prongs foward, changing mind of suddenly & running back- wards with prongs upward, dancing upside with whoop, dancing down- side with yall, then still-stopping so sudden it almost jar your spine off. Could you umagine 333 persons doing (Continued on Sixth Pagt 1924—PART ST TAAIACIAIAAAAACIAIAAAIACAS A A Stephen Leacock Studies the Subject of Taking Their Money and Making Them Like the ADMIT at the outset that I know nothing direct, personal, or im- mediate about business. I have never been in it. If I were told tomorrow to go out and make a hundred thousand dollars I should scarcely know how to do it. If anybody showed me a man on the streets and told me to sell him a municipal 6 per cent bond I shouldn’t know how to “approach” him; or how to hold his interest; or how to make him forget his troubles; or how to clinch him; or strike him to earth at the final moment. As to borrowing money—which is one of the great essentials of busi- ness—I simply couldn’t do it. As soon as I got across the steps of the bank I should be afraid they would throw me out. I know, of course, from reading about it that this is mere sliliness. All you have to do is to invite the president out to lunch and tell him that you want half a million dol- lars to float a big proposition. The president, so I gather, will be simply wild to lend you the money. All this I pick up’from the conver- sation which I overhear at my club from men who float things. But I couldn’t do it myself; there's an art in it; to borrow money, big money, you have to wear your clothes in a certain way, walk in a certain way, and have about you an air of solem- nity and majesty—something like the atmosphere of a Gothic cathedral. Small men llke me and you, my dear reader, especially you, can’t do it. We feel mean about it; and when we get the money, even if it is only ten dollars, we give ourselves away at once by wanting to hustle oft with it too fast. The really big- man in this kind of thing can borrow halt a million, button it up in his chest, and then draw on his gloves and talk easily about the League of Nations and the prospect of rain. I admit I couldn’t do it. If I ever got that half a million dollars I'd beat it out of the bank like a cat going over a fence. - So, as I say, I make no pretensions to knowledge of business, but I e a huge admiration for it, especially for big business, for the men at the top. They say that the whole rail- way business of this continent centers really in four men; and they say, too, that the whole money power of New York is really held by six men; the entire forcast of this country are practically owned by three men; the whole of South America, though it doesn’t know it, is controlled by less than five men; and the Atlantic Ocean 18 now to all intents and purposes in the hands of a little international group of not more than seven and less than eight. Think what it would mean to be one of those eight, or one of that four, or even one or two of that thre There must be a tremendous fascination about it—to be in this kind of really big business; to sit at a desk and feel one's great brain slowly revolving on its axis; to know that one’'s capaclous mind was ma- Jjestically turning round and round, and to observe one’s ponderous intel- lect moving irresistibly up and down. * x % % E cannot wonder, when we reflect on this, that all the world nowa- days is drawn by the fascination of business. It is not the money that people want: I will acquit humanity of that. Few people care for money for its own sake: it is the thought of what can be done with the money. “Oh, if I only had a million dollars!” 1 heard a woman say the other day on the platform of a social service meet- ing. And I could guess just what she meant—that she would quit work and g0 to the South Sea Islands and p > - Operation. “IF I EVER GOT THAT HALF MILLION I'D BEAT IT OUT OF THE BANK LIKE A CAT GOING OVER A FENCE.” mah jong and smoke oplum. I've had the same idea again and again. The most essential feature of mod- ern business is, I imagine, sales- manship. My readers may not appre- clate this at once—they seldom seem to get anything readily—and so I will explain some of the reasons which lead me to think so. With- out salesmanship we could not sell anything. If we could not sell any- thing we might as well not make anything, because if we made thin we couldn’t sell, then it would be bad as if we sold things we coudn’t make. Hence the most terrible danger which the world can face is that everybody will buy things and no- body able to sell them. This dan- ger of not selling anything, which used to threaten the world with disaster only a short time ago, is now being removed. Salesmanship, my readers will be glad to learn—at least, if the miserable creatures ever get thrilled at anything—Iis being re- duced to a sclence. A great number of Manuals of Salesmanship are now being placed within reach of every- body and we may indicate here a few of the principal points. It is essential that the salesman should have charm. If he wishes to sell anything—let us say lead pipe for use in sewers and house drains— he will find that what he needs most in selling is personal charm, a sort of indefinable manner, with just that little touch of noblesse which sug- gests the easy camaraderie of the menagerie. In other words, he must diffuse wherever he goes, in selling sewer pipes, a sense of sunshine which makes the world seem a little brighter when he is gone. In person the perfect salesman should be rather tall with a figure which suggests, to his customers, the outline of the Venus de Milo. ~Ac- cording to the manuals of salesman- ship, he can get this figure by taking exercises every momning on the floor of his hotel bedroom. But the dis- cussion of that point belongs else- where. Let us suppose him then with the characteristic figure of a Venus de Milo, or, if one will, of a Paduan Mercury, or of a Bologna sausage. We come, in any case, to the all im- portant point of dress. Every manual on the subject em- phasizes the large importance of dress for the salesm Indeed, there is probably nothing which has a greater bearing bn success and failure in the salesman than his dress. The well-dressed man, in selling, let us say municipal bonds, has an initial advantage over the man who comes into his customers store in rags, with his toes protruding from his boots, unshaved' and with a general air of want and misery stamped all over him. Customers are quick to notice these little things. But let the salesman turn up in an appropriate costume, bright and neat from head to foot, and bringing with him something of the gladness of the early spring and the singing bird, and the customer is immediately impressed in his favor. * k% % E asks, what then should be the costume of the perfect salesman? It s not an easy question to answer. Obviously his costume must vary with the season and with the weather and with the time of day. One might suggest, however, that on rising in the morning the salesman should throw round him a light peignoir of yellow silk or a figured kimono slashed from the hips with pink in- sertions and brought round in a bold sweep to the small of the back. This should be worn during the morning toilet while putting the hair up in its combs, while adjusting the dickie, and easing the suspenders. If break- fast is taken in the bedroom, the liver and bacon may be eaten in this costume. Breakfast over, the great moment approaches for the perfect salesman to go out upon the street. There should not. be in the salesman’s dress anything the least suggestive of im- modesty. No salesman should ever appear with bare arms, or with his waistcoat cut so low as to suggest tmpropriety. Let us suppose then our salesman, fully dressed, his buttons all adjusted and drawing well, his suspenders reg- ulated, and his dickie set well in place. His next task is to “approach” his cus- tomer. Everything depends on it. And nevertheless “approaching” the mer- chant, is a thing of great difficulty. ‘The merchant, if we may believe our best books on salesmanship, is as wary as mountain antelope. At the least alarm he will leap from his counter ten feet in the air or per- haps he will make dive into his DTS T A A A AIA A ASAS AT Real Art in Selling Salesmanship ¢ 0 0 S ) 4 ¢ § O DDA cellar where he will burrow his wav among barrels and boxes. In such a case he can only be dug out with a spade. How then can the salesman man- age to get his interview with the merchant or, to usc a technical term, to get next to his prospect. The answer is that he must “stalk” his prospect as the hunter stalks the mountain goat or the wild hog Dressed in a becoming way, he must circulate outside his prospect’s prem- ises, occasionally taking a peep at him through the window and perhaps imitating the song of a bird or the gentle cooing of a dove. Pleased with the soft note of the bird's song, the prospect will pres- ently be scen to relax into a smile Now is the moment for the salesman to act. He enters the place boldly and says with a winning frankness “Mr. Nut, you thought it was a bird It was not. It was me. I am here to_show you my line.” If the salesman has chosen his moment rightly he will win. The merchant, once decoyed into looking at the line, is easily landed. On the other hand, the prospect may refuse even now to see the salesman, and the attack must begin again. * ok ko EVERTHELESS, frankness wili be found to be the best policy We will illustrate it with a little story taken from the experience of a young salesman traveling in the north Southwest in the interest of brushes face powder, and toilet notions. “A young silesman whom we will indicate as Mr. Asterisk. traveling in brushes and toilet supplies, was one day showing his line to Mr. Stroke, a drug merchant of a town in the eas north Southwest. Picking up one of the sample brushes, Mr. S. said to the salesman, ‘That's an excellent brush.’ Mr. A answered, ‘No, 1 am sorry to it is not. Its bristies fall out y and the wood Is not really rose- wood but a cheap imitation.’ " Mr. § was so pleased with the young man's candor that he sai often I meet a salesman you are. If you w ow. me the rest of your line I shall be delighted to fill “out a first-class order. answered Mr. A, ‘I'm sorry to s the whole is as rotten as brush.’ “More delighted than eve who was a widower, invited Mr. A to his house where he met Mr. S's grown-up daughter who kept house for him. The two young people im- mediately fell in love and were mar- ried, Mr. A moving into the house and taking over the business while Mr. S, now without a home, went out selling brushe: While we are speaking of the ap- proach of the prospect it may be well to remind our readers very clear- ly—for the poor guys don't seem to get anything unless we make it clear —that a prospect otherwise invisible may be approached and seen by util- izing his fondness for amusements or sport. Many a man who mant at his place of business is mud on a golf course. The sternest and hardest of mer- chants may turn out to be an en- thusiastic angler, or even a fisher- man. The salesman who takes care to saunter into the store with a dead catfish in his pocket will meet with a cordial reception; and a conver: tion pleasantly initiated over the cat- fish and its habits may end in a hand- some order. At other times it is even possible to follow the prospect out to his golf course or to track him out to the trout streams and round him up in the woods. Philippine College Boys Make and Enforce Their Student Laws . BY FRANK G. CARPENTER. 5 MUNOZ, P. I SCHOOL republic exists in the heart of the Philippine Is- lands! Eight hundred brown- skinned boys—Christians, Mo- hammedans and pagans—repre- senting 40 different Provinces, from the head-hunting regions of northern Lu- zon to the former piratical haunts of Moro Mindanao, vote together and rule themselv: Hard-working students elect their own officials, have their own police, run their own bank, store and farms and carry on in common all the ac- tivities of an agricultural and mu- micipal community! A live farming organization is made up of b of 15 and upward who are working their own way through col- Jege—entering with nothing, receiv- ing no support from charity and, in some cases, coming out th enough to start little farms of their own! Representatives of almost a thou- sand families, whose parents live for the most part in thatched huts and in many c s are absolutely illiter- ate, study in the English language the books used in our high schools and academies, learning a half dozen trades, and preparing themselves for patriotic citizenship and useful work! These are my surroundings here in the once wild Province of Nueva ¥ a, about 100 miles north of Ma- nila and 15 miles from the end of a railway. I say once wild. When the Ameri- cans came to these islands this part of Luzen was a jungle, covered with trees of enormous size, joined to- gether with vines and lianas, and inhabited only by monkeys, deer, buf- faloes and wild hogs, with here and there perhaps a naked Negrito or Eome other savage man of the woods. Under the 1904 plan of development the wilds were thrown open to home- steaders, and this tract of 1,600 acres was set aside for the school. Now, as far as I can see, reaching beyond the plains to the mountains, there is nothing but well irrigated farms. The land has been plotted, the trees have been cleared away, roads have They Have a President, a’Legislature and a Judiciary—Their Police Patrol the School Grounds and the Courts Impose Fines—A School Republic Cut Out of the Wilderness—Lessons Who Build Their Own Homes, Earn Eflough been built and a great concrete dam is now being made in the hills to store water that will irrigate 25,000 more acres, or something like 5,000 more farms. The school lands were cleared by the students themselves., The work at first was so appalling that at the end of two weeks they threw down their axes and fled from the task. But the school authorities gathered together another body of student re- cruits, and month by month, under the stimulus of good American teach- ers, they went on until every acre was cleared. Now the water flows from level to level through these many small fields which are worked by Filipino boys who are educating themselves. For the past few days I have been going over this large agricultural school, tramping from farm to farm, studying the various institutions and chatting the while with the students. The boys all speak English, and all their study is in that tongue. The students have a printing shop where they set English type and issue the various forms, blanks, and pamphlets required. For a long time they have published “The Student Farmer,” a little monthly magazine to which they contribute the articles and for which they do all the press work. The motto of the magazine is as fol- lows: “Be strong! We are not here to play, To dream, to drift. We have work to do And loads to lift.” Each number is full of inspiring suggestions and it has good farm stuff as well and parts of it would be a credit to any agricultural col- lege in the United States. I have five volumes of the magazine lying before me, and I consider them a val- uable addition to my library. ‘The boys are enthusiastically proud of the institution. Every class has its organization and upon graduating leaves a monument of some kind or other. One has made two ornamental sateposts to the college grounds, and another has erected a staute to the first pioneer who came into this Munoz valley. The statue is of stone and was carved by one of the stud- ents. It is a life-size figure wielding a bolo, and it stands on a concrete pedestal. The graduating class of this year has put up a finely decorate ed bulletin board as its memorial. * * x % THE boys have constructed a large part of the school buildings, many of which have the area of a good sized city lot. The academy contain- ing the class-rooms where they spend half of each day covers perhaps three:fourths of an acre. It has a good concrete foundation, concrete walls, and a steel roof which over- hangs, giving a most artistic effect. ‘The doors are of Philippine hard- wood, and the windows are of pearl shell which admits the light and shuts out the hea The classrooms are large and airy ‘with high ceilings and with furniture made by boys. I was interested in the library and reading room which is_about thirty feet by fifty in size. It has oyster shell windows, most of which were half open and the air was delightful- ly cool. The walls are lined with books, and the long tables are cov- ered with papers and magasines. There were perhaps fifty boys in the room at the time of my visit, reading, studying, and making notes. It was with the principal, Paul A. Gantt, a graduate of Ames College in Iowa, the alma mater of our present Sec- retary of Agriculture, that I went through this part of the institution. My guilde through the workshops, the bank and over the farm proper was Dr. James Wright, a New Yorker, who is the head and superintendent. It was he who organized the school for the ex-Igorot head hunters of the Trinidad Valley, in the mountains of northern Luszon, and he has had a wide experlence in this sort of edu- cational work. With him I visited the blacksmith shop, the wagon shop and a number of other buildings de- voted to manual training. Leaving the workshops, I went through the printing office, stopped at the photograph establishment, where the boys make pictures, not only for the school but for the sur- rounding country; inspected a store where they get things practically at cost, and then went on to the bank, where the accounts of these 800 boys are kept. This bank is run entirely by the students. It occupies the second story of a large galvanized-roofed building, and the counting room is as well equipped as that of the ordinary small bank at home, It has its cashiers and tellers and its clerks, with the usual typewriters and adding machines. student has an accouat. He I with the sale of his areps for Others in Teaching Business and Industry—A Students’ Bank—Visiting the Boy Farmers for All Their Expenses and Sometimes Graduate With a Surplus. STUDENTS OF AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL AT MUNOZ BUILD THEIR OWN QUARTERS. THESE HOUSES, MADE OF BAMBOO AND THATCH, BUILT WITHOUT NAILS, COST $25. or with his wages for his work in the shops, or with his salary as post- master, telegraph operator, cashier or policeman. The things raised on the farms are sold at fixed prices to the school management, and the school management markets the product and gives the young farmers the proceeds less a small discount. Against each boy’s credit is charged his withdrawals for sustenance and expenses and what he buys at the general store. He has to maintain a balance at the bank, and at the end of his course this often amounts to as much as $400, which is a tidy sum for equipping a farm. The course at Munoz is one of four years. Pupils are admitted on exami- nation or on certificate from other schools, and the place is S0 popular that more than 1,000 applicants are turned away every year. The school has Moros, Tagalogs, Igorots, Boca- nos, Visayans and Ifugaos. It repre- sents practically all of the Christian les, as well as some of the Mo- %-uund pagans, TH.E government of the school is run by the boys. They elect their president and vice president. They make the laws, and policemen are chosen by them to enforce them. They have what is called a students’ council for each group of boys, and each of these groups elects members to the general council, which has regular meetings. Most of the pun- ishments are by fines, and this works well, for the loss of money means more here than it does in a school where the boys get their expenses from home. Once every week there 18 a program of debates, speeches and music, and busing meetings may be held at any time out of school hours at the call of the student president. ‘The judicial Rranch con: s of a judge and an lassistant appointed from the student body by the super- intendent of the school. The student president appoints a chief of police, who chooses his own patrolmen. The police go around the grounds day and night. They arrest any who break the laws of the school and summon them to the school court, Copyrighted, Carpenter's World Travels. where the accused can conduct his own case or have an attorney from the student body if he prefers. Some cases of dispute are settled outside the court, and this is attempted where possible by the judges. All this is serious, and it is carried on in an orderly mannmer. The officials are paid, the chief of police getting 6 cents an hour. But come with me over. this great farm of fifteen hundred acres and let us see how the boys handle - their property. Much of the farm is first broken by tractors, but all the tilling is done with the ordinary plow and a bullock or- carabao. The tract is divided up into allotments of three hectares, or seven and a half acres, each, and every allotment is assigned to four boys, who build a house on it, in which they live, do their study- ing, cook their own meals and sleep at night. They cultivate the land under the direction of the superin- tendent and get practically all the receipts. They put ia four hours of farm work and four hours of study, each day. This is the rule for the farm- ers. There are three classes of stu- dents — industrial workers, farm workers and officials. The others are paid wages; the farmers take their chances of making what they can off the crops. They practically lease the land of the school for three-fourths of the crop. This is when they furnish no tools or the carabao which drags the plow and does all the hauling. If they furnish the carabao they get 90 per cent of the crop, and if they can supply both the carabao and their farm tools they receive 95 per cent. On some of the tracts I have visited the boys have bought their own carabaos, and on some they own both this animal and the farm tools. In addition, some have pigs and chickens as live stock. * x % % 'HE homes of these boys are scat- tered far and wide over the school lands. There is one on each tract, and wd shall have no trouble in mak- ing a visit. The home we select is a typical shack made of grassyand bamboo. It is of one story, 21 feet wide and 22 feet in floor is about four feet from the grounds, fastened to posts which ex- tend up and support the roof. The roof is of grass thatch, and the walls are of grass or of bamboo basket work, the partitions separating the rooms being bamboo. In fact, bam- boo and grass’ make up the whole house. The floor is of bamboo poles, and the house has a bamboo porch. The boys sleep on beds of rattan, which are cooler than feathers. No one thinks of using soft beds here in the Philippines, but over the rattan these students stretch straw matting, which is beautifully woven. The white clothes of the boys are hung up on hangers to wooden hooks in the walls. Everything looks neat and clean. The Kkitchen is in a lean-to even with the floor of the house. It is about 6 feet by 10 in size. The stove is & box three feet square, and about a foot high, filled with ashes or sand. Within it upon three legs stands the clay cooking pot, and nearby is an old Standard Oil can, which is used to boil the food for the pigs. The floors and walls are 8o open that the air blows freely through. This is_important in a tropical cli- mate. There is no glass in the win- dows. The shutters consist of sheets of woven bamboo splints hung by a string so that they can be raised or lowered at will. Under the floor of this house, where the farm implements and other tools are kept, I saw some green bamboo poles about 20 feet long and as thick as my wrist. When I asked Dr. Wright to show me how they make their building material he spoke to one of the students. The boy pulled out a pole and with one stroke of his bolo split it from end to end. He then went over it with a bolo, mak- ing cuts at the knots. In a short time he was able to flatten out each half of the cane into a board not as thick as & lead pencil and about three inches wide. uch boards form a large part rl bullding material length. The | of these islands. The boy made two of them for me in less than five min- utes. There are practically no nails in such houses. The woodwork is put together with pegs and the bamboo and grass are tied on with rattan and bamboo. This house cost oply about $25 to build. The boys who own this farm home gave me their names. They are Sergio Quiniola, Felicisimo Macabee. Aurelio Dacquel and Pedro Estoesta They are 19 or 20 vears of age. Two of them have been here for three years and will graduate in 19 will enter the civil service other will go into farming. The two younger boys have not decided what they will do, but most of the students teach for a couple of years after leaving fo earn enough money to give them a start toward buying farms for themselves. (Carpenter’s World Travels, Copyright, 1924.) Didn’t Pay. Lady—Here, my poor fellow, is a quarter for you. It must be dread- ful to be lame, but I think it must be worse to be blind. Tramp—It is, mum. When I was blind they were always handing me counterfeit quarters. BESIDES' BEING A STAR BASE BALL PLAYER, THIS PHILIP- PINE YOUTH IS A SPRINTER, AND HOLDS THE ISLANDS' REC- ORD FOR 100-YARD DASH, 'WHICH HE MADE IN 9 AND 45 SECONDS. Copyrighted, Carpester’s World Travels