RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
There were many speeches and Mr. Taft, as usual, read and explained the Provincial Code to the assembly. After I had listened almost daily for more than six weeks to that dry-as-dust document I was sure that I could repeat it backward if I tried. Mr. Taft finished his speech with a neat little summing up of conditions in general,--mellifluously embellished by Mr. Ferguson,-- then he introduced Chief Justice Arellano as the ablest lawyer in the Islands and a man whom any country would be proud to own; which was literally true. The Chief Justice spoke for some time, earnestly, appealingly, and with great dignity, and he was listened to with reference. I had hoped that his speech would end the proceedings, but this was only the beginning of my experience with the Filipino love of oratory and I never thereafter entertained any optimistic ideas with regard to time limits.
But, as all things must, the meeting came to an end and, stretching our weary bodies, we accepted an invitation to view the town. Our progress was triumphal. In our flower-decked Victoria, with the municipal presidente on the little seat in front of us, Mr. Taft and I moved slowly along, one band in front of us blaring out "A Hot Time in the Old Town" with all the force of its lungs, and the other behind us doing its best to make itself heard and appreciated in a wholly original rendition of "Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom-de-ay." Then came the other members of our party in nondescript vehicles which jolted and creaked.
Speaking of Filipino bands, it may be thought that my partial description of those in Lucena is exaggerated. Not at all. There are more bands in the Philippines, perhaps, than any other one thing. The Filipinos as a people are extremely musical and, in many instances, have proved themselves capable of reaching a high point of musical proficiency, but in the early days of American occupation
a vast majority of the musicians were the rankest amateurs
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