I didn’t look for speed from our little brown creatures, but I was yet to become acquainted with the Philippine pony. We started off over the rough cobblestones at a pace that was truly terrifying, and everybody else seemed to be going at about the same rate. I expected a collision every moment. Wheels passed wheels without an inch to spare, and without an instant’s slackening of speed. My heart was in my mouth until we got through the maze of narrow streets in the wholesale district near the Custom House and came out into a wide plaza which my husband informed me was the end of the Escolta, the principal business street of the city. I was very glad we didn’t have to drive through that; it was just about wide enough for two carriages to pass, but it had a streetcar track right down the middle, and it was thronged. On the track was a jingling little horsecar which seemed to get very much tangled up with the rest of the traffic.