The child awoke ill-naturedly and asked, "Is it time to cry now ?" "Not yet, O lost one, but don't go to sleep again!" answered the good grandmother.
Of the second part of the sermon--that in Tagalog--we have only a few rough notes, for Padre Damaso extemporized in this language, not because he knew it better, but because, holding the provincial Filipinos ignorant of rhetoric, he was not afraid of making blunders before them.

With Spaniards the case was different; he had heard rules of oratory spoken of, and it was possible that among his hearers some one had been in college-halls, perhaps the alcalde, so he wrote out his sermons, corrected and polished them, and then memorized and rehearsed them for several days beforehand.
It is common knowledge that none of those present understood the drift of the sermon.

They were so dull of understanding and the preacher was so profound, as Sister Rufa said, that the audience waited in vain for an opportunity to weep, and the lost grandchild of the blessed old woman went to sleep again.

Nevertheless, this part had greater consequences than the first, at least for certain hearers, as we shall see later.
He began with a "_Mana capatir con cristiano_," [91] followed by an avalanche of untranslatable phrases.

He talked of the soul, of Hell, of "_mahal na santo pintacasi_," [92] of the Indian sinners and of the virtuous Franciscan Fathers.
"The devil!" exclaimed one of the two irreverent Manilans to his companion.