d bullocks close their eyes and chew their
cuds, regardless of the fierce screams of the Malay or the frenzied
objurgations of their driver.

But no one pays any attention to the momentary confusion. A party of
Jews dressed in robes of purple and red that sweep the street pass
by, without giving a glance at the wild plunging of the half-wild
pony. A Singhalese jeweller is showing his rubies and cat's-eyes to
a party of Eurasian, or half-caste clerks, that are taking advantage
of their master's absence from the godown to come out into the court
to smoke a Manila cigarette and gossip. The mottled tortoise-shell
comb in the vender's black hair, and his womanish draperies, give
him a feminine aspect.

An Indian chitty, or money-lender, stands talking to a brother,
supremely unconscious of the eddying throng about. These chitties are
fully six feet tall, with closely shaven heads and nude bodies. Their
dress of a few yards of gauze wound about their waists, and red
sandals, would not lead one to think that they handle more money
than any other class of people in the East. They borrow from the
great English banks without security save that of their caste name,
and lend to the Eurasian clerks just behind them at twelve per cent
a month. If a chitty fails, he is driven out of the caste and becomes
a pariah. The caste make up his losses.

Dyaks from Borneo idle by. Parsee merchants in their tall, conical
hats, Chinese rickshaw runners and cart coolies, Tamil road-menders,
Bugis, Achinese, Siamese, Japanese, Madras serving-men, negro firemen,
Lascar sailors, throng the little square,--the agora of the commercial
life of the city.

Such is Singapore, embracing all the races of Asia and Europe. Is it
any wonder that the American boy is bewildered, standing there under
the great banian tree with a Malay in sarong and kris by his side,
singing with his syrah-stained lips the glorious promises of the Koran?

Look on the map of Asia for the southernmost point of the continent,
and you will find it at the tip of the Malay Peninsula,--a giant
finger that points down into the heart of the greatest archipelago in
the world. At the very end of this peninsula, like a sort of cut-off
joint of the finger, is the little island of Singapore, which is not
over twenty-five miles from east to west, and does not exceed fifteen
miles in width at its broadest point.

The famous old Straits of Malacca, which were once the haunts of the
fier