The Magat is another of those turbulent, uncertain rivers of the
Archipelago; we were not sure as we neared it whether we could get
over or not. When up, it carries waves in midstream six to seven feet
from crest to trough. But we had no such ill-luck, and _bancas_ soon
came over for us, the horses swimming. While waiting for them we had
a chance to admire the beautiful country; on one side tall spreading
trees and broad savannahs, on the other the mountain presenting a
bare scarp of red rock many hundreds of feet high; immediately in
front the cool, green river, over all the brilliant sun, not yet too
hot to prevent our thinking of other things.

Once over, we had no occasion to complain of our reception! All
the notabilities were present, of course, mounted, but in addition
there were three bands, all playing different tunes at the same time,
in different keys, and all _fortissimo_. No instrument was allowed
to rest, the drums being especially vigorous. One of the bands was
that of the Constabulary, playing really well, and with magnificent
indifference to the other two. I am bound to say they returned
it. We had the Constabulary troops, too, as escort, a well set-up,
well-turned-out and soldierlike body. What with the bands, the pigs,
the dogs, the horses, the children, the people, it was altogether
one of the most delightful confusions conceivable, not the least
interesting feature being the happy unconsciousness of the people
of the incongruity of the reception. However, we formed a column,
the Constabulary at the head, with its band, and were played into
Bayombong, with the other bands, children, dogs, etc., as a mighty
rear guard.

Our first business was to listen to reports and addresses. So we