mercilessly; not only that, but clouds and mists had enveloped us so
that one could not see twenty yards ahead. We were nearing the rainy
season, and conditions were uncertain, but this morning the gods were
on our side and we could not have asked for better weather. We went
down the splendid Benguet Road, following the bed of the Bued River [8]
to the railway, a drop of over 4,000 feet in thirteen miles. Strange
to say, the stream had not risen at all, a fortunate circumstance,
as one hundred and sixty bridges are crossed in the drop, and at
times a rise will wash out not only the bridges, but all semblance
of a road. [9] At the railway we turned south over the great plain
of Pangasinán. This, in respect of roads, is the show province of
the Archipelago and deserves its reputation, one hundred and twenty
miles having been built. Those we passed over this day would have
been called good in France even. Our passage was of the nature of
a progress, thanks to the presence of the Governor-General. Simple
bamboo arches crossing the road greeted us everywhere, Mr. Forbes
punctiliously raising his hat under every one. All the villages had
decorated their houses; handkerchiefs, petticoats, red table-cloths,
anything and everything had been hung out of the windows by way of
flags and banners. Across the front of the municipal building of one
village was stretched a banner with this inscription, "_En honor de
la venida del Gobernador General y de su Comitiva_" ("In honor of the
arrival of the Governor-General and of his retinue"), and then below on
the next band, "_Deseamos iener un pozo artesiano_" ("We should like
to have an Artesian well"), which led Mr. Worcester to remark that
four years before the banner would have demanded "_independencia_"
(independence), and not an Artesian well.

Even in Pangasinán, good roads must come to an end, and ours did as
we neared the Agno River. For this blessed river is a curse to its