The Filipinos are a most temperate people; there is no such thing as drunkenness among them; but coachmen seem to be an exception in that they allow themselves a sufficient stimulation of the fiery vino to make them drive with courage and dash, sometimes minus all care and discretion. The drivers of public vehicles seem to love their little horses in a way; they are inordinately proud of a fast paced or stylish-looking pony; yet they are, as a rule, quite harsh to them. They overload them and overdrive them, and under all conditions they lash them continuously.

No Filipino cochero likes to have another cochero pass him, and the result is constant, indiscriminate racing, on any kind of street, under any circumstances⁠—and never mind the horse.

My children were driving with their governess to the Luneta one evening, when two caromatas came tearing down behind them, each driver hurling imprecations at the other and paying no attention to what was ahead of him. The result was a violent collision. The two caromatas went plunging on, the cocheros not stopping to see what damage they might have done⁠—which was very characteristic⁠—and the children narrowly escaped a serious accident. Charlie was hurled out and fell under the children’s calesa and Robert and Helen both declare they felt a sickening jolt as a wheel passed over him. The baby, too, vowed that the calesa “went wight over me, wight dere,” indicating a vital spot; but upon the closest examination we could discover nothing more serious than a few bruises. However, it made us very much afraid to trust the children out alone.