her graceful little head nodding with inborn coquetry.

Our promenaders kept on their way, not without sighs on the part
of the friar-artilleryman, until they reached a booth surrounded by
sightseers, who quickly made way for them. It was a shop of little
wooden figures, of local manufacture, representing in all shapes and
sizes the costumes, races, and occupations of the country: Indians,
Spaniards, Chinese, mestizos, friars, clergymen, government clerks,
gobernadorcillos, students, soldiers, and so on.

Whether the artists had more affection for the priests, the folds
of whose habits were better suited to their esthetic purposes, or
whether the friars, holding such an important place in Philippine life,
engaged the attention of the sculptor more, the fact was that, for one
cause or another, images of them abounded, well-turned and finished,
representing them in the sublimest moments of their lives--the opposite
of what is done in Europe, where they are pictured as sleeping on
casks of wine, playing cards, emptying tankards, rousing themselves
to gaiety, or patting the cheeks of a buxom girl. No, the friars
of the Philippines were different: elegant, handsome, well-dressed,
their tonsures neatly shaven, their features symmetrical and serene,
their gaze meditative, their expression saintly, somewhat rosy-cheeked,
cane in hand and patent-leather shoes on their feet, inviting adoration
and a place in a glass case. Instead of the symbols of gluttony and
incontinence of their brethren in Europe, those of Manila carried the
book, the crucifix, and the palm of martyrdom; instead of kissing the
simple country lasses, those of Manila gravely extended the hand to
be kissed by children and grown men doubled over almost to kneeling;
instead of the full refectory and dining-hall, their stage in Europe,
in Manila they had the oratory, the study-table; instead of the