It is said that once an attempt was made to send the Santo Niño to Rome, as the Pope had expressed a wish to see the much talked of Philippine image. Very tenderly was it packed away in soft wrappings, after which it was placed in a wooden box, fitted with an intricate lock, the key of which was carried by the old bishop who was to accompany the Santo Niño on its travels. To ensure the safety of so valuable a thing, the wooden box was put into a metal casket, which in turn was fastened securely. Then the ship sailed for Italy, and the little niche in the wall of the cathedral which had been the Santo Niño's shrine was boarded up, and the natives came to the church but seldom, so bitter were they that the Holy Child had been taken from them.
Hard times followed; crops failed; there was an epidemic of sickness; and Cebu was shrouded in gloom, a gloom which deepened when word came from Rome that the image was either lost or stolen, for although the bishop had never let the sacred box out of his sight, yet when he came to unlock it before a hushed throng at the Vatican, there was no Santo Niño within. It was thought that in some mysterious way the bishop had been robbed and that the Holy Child was forever lost. Great was the grief and terror and excitement in Cebu. Masses were said, and individual prayers offered up, novenas were held, and vows taken, all to the effect that the Santo Nino should be restored to the island.
One day, months later, while the church was being repaired, the partition of wood over the Holy Child's shrine was accidentally knocked out of place by a workman, and what should he discover there but the Santo Niño himself, gravely smiling, his little hands outstretched in benediction. He had not wanted to go abroad, and so had left the carefully locked boxes and returned to his old home. What more natural? Of course there was a great _fiesta_, and the miracles performed in that week of rejoicing will never be forgotten.
But even to this day the Santo Niño gives numerous evidences of his supernatural power, and any native will tell you how he walks abroad of a night, and visits the homes where his image is enshrined, a tremendous undertaking, as hardly a nipa shack on the island but boasts its picture or statue of Cebu's patron saint. On returning from these nocturnal tramps, the Holy Child is wont to bring back with him food and drink for his own consumption, the evidence of these midnight feasts being found on many a morning in the shape of crumbs scattered over the altar, a touch of nature which makes him indeed kin to the natives, who, we were told, invariably save a bit from their scanty suppers, putting it where the Santo Niño will be sure to find it does he honour them with a visit.