CHAPTER VII
SAN DIEGO AND ITS PEOPLE.
Not far from the shores of the Laguna de Bay lies the town of San
Diego, surrounded by fertile fields and rice plantations. It exports
sugar, rice, coffee, and fruits, or sells them at ridiculously low
prices to the Chinese, who make large profits out of the credulity
and vices of the laborers.
When the sky was serene and the atmosphere clear, the boys used
to climb to the very peak of the old moss and vine covered church
tower. And what exclamations they would utter when, from that high
pinnacle, they looked out at the beautiful panorama that surrounded
them. There before them lay a great mass of roofs, some nipa, some
thatch, some zinc and some made out of the native grasses. And out of
that mass, which here and there gave way to an orchard or a garden,
every one of those boys could find his own little home, his own
little nest. To them everything was a landmark; every tamarind tree
with its light foliage, every cocoanut tree with its load of nuts,
every bending cane, every bonga tree, every cross. Beyond the town is
the crystal river, like a serpent asleep on a carpet of green. Here
and there, its tranquil surface is broken by rocks projecting from
its sandy bottom. In places, it is hemmed in between two high banks,
and there the rapidly rushing waters turn and twist the half-bared
roots of the overhanging shade trees. But further on it spreads itself
out again and becomes calm and peaceful.
But what always attracts attention is a peninsula of forest projecting
into this sea of cultivated land. There can be found hollow-trunked
trees, a century old, trees which die only when struck by lightning
and set on fire. They say, also, that even in that case the fire never
spreads to any other tree. This old grove is held in a certain degree
of awe, for around it have been woven many strange legends. Of these
the most probable, and consequently the least known and believed is
the following:
When the town was still a miserable group of huts, when weeds grew
in abundance in the so-called streets, and deer and wild boar roamed
about at night, there arrived one day an old Spaniard. His eyes were
deep and thoughtful and he spoke Tagalog fluently. After visiting
the different estates and peddling out some goods he inquired for
the owners of this grove, which by the way, also contained several
hot water springs. A number of persons claiming to be the owners
