Deservedly so, too, for it was a boy with wings, riding-boots, sash, belt, and plumed hat.
"It's the alcalde!" cried some one, but this prodigy of creation began to recite a poem like himself and took no offense at the comparison.
But why record here what he said in Latin, Tagalog, and Spanish, all in verse--this poor victim of the gobernadorcillo?
Our readers have enjoyed Padre Damaso's sermon of the morning and we do not wish to spoil them by too many wonders.

Besides, the Franciscan might feel hard toward us if we were to put forward a competitor, and this is far from being the desire of such peaceful folk as we have the good fortune to be.
Afterwards, the procession moved on, St.John proceeding along his vale of tears.

When the Virgin passed the house of Capitan Tiago a heavenly song greeted her with the words of the archangel.

It was a voice tender, melodious, pleading, sighing out the _Ave Maria_ of Gounod to the accompaniment of a piano that prayed with it.

The music of the procession became hushed, the praying ceased, and even Padre Salvi himself paused.