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The main streets of Manila are but few in number. There are two devoted largely to business, and three or four that have some handsome residences and public buildings upon them. But all of the other highways, so-styled, are simply what in a United States city would be styled alleyways, the sidewalks being but two or three feet wide and the wagon way just about broad enough for two hand carts to pass each other. On each side, the ramshackle dwellings project over the walks, cutting off light and air that are absolutely essential to health and cleanliness.

Dan and I had to cross one of the main streets, but this passed, we lost no time in diving into an alleyway that was as dark as Erebus. On and on we went until we brought up plump against the broadside of a warehouse.

"We can't go any further," I exclaimed.

"Can it be possible that we've got into a blind pocket?" queried Dan. "Come over here."

I did as requested, and soon learned that we had indeed entered what the French call a