hem, styled Baboos, do not
even know their native tongue.

The Malays, dressed in gayly colored sarongs and bajus (jackets),
with little rimless caps on their heads, squatted on their heels and
chewed betel-nut, with eyes half closed and mouths distended.

The Arab traders and shopkeepers were grouped about in little knots,
gravely conversing and watching the files of gharries or carriages,
and even rickshaws, that were bringing Malay unkus (princes not of
the royal blood), patos (peers), holy men, and rich Chinese mandarins
to the steps that led up to the plaza before the throne-room.

The palace was two stories high, long and narrow. The interior rooms
were separated from the outer walls by wide, airy corridors. The
lattice-work windows were without glass and were arranged to admit
the breezes from the ocean and ward off the searching rays of the
equatorial sun. In these dusky corridors were long rattan chairs,
divans, and tables covered with refreshments, and along its walls
were arranged weapons of war and chase, Japanese suits of straw armor,
Javanese shields, and Malay krises and limbings.

In a little court at the end of our corridor, where a fountain splashed
over a clump of lotus flowers and blue water lilies, a long-armed
silver wah-wah monkey played with a black Malay cat that had a kink
in its tail like the joint in a stovepipe, and chased the clucking
little gray lizards up the polished walls.

The gorgeous aide stared in poorly concealed wonderment, when he
entered to conduct us to the grand salon, at my plain evening dress
suit, destitute of gold lace or decorations, but he was too polite to
say anything, and I humbly followed my uniformed colleagues through the
long suite of rooms. It would have been useless for me to have tried to
explain the great American doctrine of "Jeffersonian simplicity." He
would have shrugged his narrow shoulders, which would have meant,
"When you are among Romans, you should do as Romans do."

In the grand salon, more than in any other part of the palace, one
feels that he is in the home of an Oriental prince whose tastes far
outrun his own dominions.

Velvet carpets from Holland, divans from Turkey, rugs from Bokhara,
tapestries from Persia, and lace from France mingle with embroideries
from China, cut glass from England, and rare old Satsuma ware from
Japan. On a grand square German piano is a mass of music in which
the masterpieces of all countries have equal rights