heads covered with straw, rimless, flowerpotshaped hats adorned with verses from the Koran; and Malays who had put on unaccustomed trousers in deference to the prejudices of the court. Standing at one of the barriers was a Bengalee with a yellow ochre mark on the bridge of his nose, denoting his caste. A white calico robe was his sole garment, but he had draped it around his tall lithe figure with a grace which the British workman would vainly endeavour to imitate— if, indeed, he would feel promptings of desire in that direction.

The crowd in court were not able to follow the glib pleadings of the gentlemen in white ducks and black gowns; circumstance evidently taken note of by the astute practitioner. If they could not follow the speech they would understand that the gentleman in ducks who was constantly popping up to interrupt his learned brother was a kind of man whose services it would be desirable to engage in time of trouble. Accordingly, whilst one learned counsel was supposed to have the ear of the court, the other was incessantly jumping up with an indignant, "My lord, I protest," or a "Now, really this is too bad." Whenever this happened the Chinamen in the body of the court exchanged approving glances, as

new hat on, but-with anything less than one of disreputable old age. I fancy that with the Chinese the ruling passion is strong alike in the matter of eggs and hats. They like them both old.

The jinrikisha is seen at Singapore, but, as at Hongkong, though for a different reason, it does not flourish. It is absolutely too hot for a man, however lightly clad, to run about dragging weights, and the few jinrikishas one meets do not get much beyond walking pace. At Penang the triumphant westward march of the jinrikisha is finally arrested. Both at Singapore and Penang a conveyance called a gharry is in popular use. It is a large black, funereal structure something like a pauper's hearse. It is drawn by a small but masterful and well-made pony, a couple of which would very comfortably stow themselves in the gharry. The Hongkong ponies-splendid little creatures, but apt to wax wroth and kick-are much prized at Singapore. We brought one down for the Maharajah's brother. His Highness was on the wharf with umbrella up awaiting the arrival of his new acquisition.

"He's all right; we have got him here," the friend who had brought him shouted over the bulwarks.

"Is he," asked the prince, with anxious face and bated breath," is he quiet?

Being assured on this point, the prince, a portly personage in white ducks, heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned away.

The traction of heavier goods is accomplished in carts drawn by a yoke of oxen. There is, nevertheless, plenty of work for porters, who under the noonday sun carry stupendous burdens by bamboos borne upon their shoulders. They scorn the interposition of a pad between their bare flesh and the hard bamboo. Accustomed from earliest boyhood to carry weights in this way, the skin and muscle of their shoulders have so hardened as to become insensible to what to an English porter would be pain unbearable for more than ten minutes at a stretch.

It is a long drive from the wharf to the hotel, which is situated in the centre of the town. The highway is bordered with tropical vegetation-palms, cocoa-nut trees, bananas, now fully bearing, and flowers, familiar in English hothouses, here growing by the wayside in wild luxuriance. In the early morning, when life is well worth living in the tropics, we took a drive to the Botanic Gardens at Singapore, which are beautifully kept, and full of choicest tropical plants and trees growing in

perfection. In a pond were a group of the Victoria lilies, the flower not yet out, but a bud, of the size of knobs on a family four-post bedstead, was ready to burst. The leaves floating flat on the water with edges turned up at right angles were large enough to have floated the infant Moses. I had one measured. It was four feet across.

The day after we arrived was Sunday, and in the evening we went to the cathedral, a fine building situated on a bluff overlooking the harbour. The punkahs were in full swing, pulled by natives stationed all round the building. The bishop preached an excellent sermon, pleading for funds to endow mission churches where, in distant parts of his diocese, the natives, resting from their six days' labours, might spend quiet sabbaths. I wondered whether, through the open windows and doors, the perspiring punkah-men heard anything of these kind accents, or took a close interest in the amount of the collection made.

The hotel at Singapore, like all the European buildings, is a roomy place, with cool verandahs and open doors and windows, courting whatever chance breeze may blow. In the office there is a placard, prominently pasted up, curious enough to be worth copying.

runs, are

"Passengers and boarders," it respectfully requested not to ask the manager for any money, as he has strict injunctions not to give same."

This is not an isolated hint of a certain aspect of social life in these parts. In one or two other hotels I have seen a similar intimation, though not so bluntly and quaintly put. Even more common is the edict that the servants of the hotel have instructions to hold on to all baggage till bills are paid.

The harbour at Penang is full of bustling life and colour, to which the sampan men contribute a full share. They cast gay clothes about their dusky forms, and lavish pictorial art upon the stern sheets of their boats. Underneath a stretchy landscape (apparently turned upside down), or a brilliant painting of a steamer with its paddles close to the rudder, the proprietor proudly paints his own name. "Joe" is a favourite cognomen. "London Charley" shows originality, and one boatman advertises himself in a breath as "Bobgoodsampanman."

In most respects Penang is like Singapore, except that its streets are narrower. There is the same vertically shining sun, the same gay colours in the street, and the same long roads in the suburbs lined with cocoa-nut