of the broad, red road,
are lost to view amid the olive-green shadows of a clump of gently
swaying bamboo. To me, for the moment, they seem to disappear, like
phantoms, into the mists of the dim centuries, from out of which my
imagination has called them forth.

Soon you are at the wide-open gates of the Botanic Garden. A perfect
riot of strange tropical foliage bursts upon the view. The clean, red
road winds about and among avenues of palms, waringhans, dark green
mangosteens, casuarinas, and the sweet-smelling hibiscus, all alike
covered with a hundred different parasitic vines and ferns. Artificial
lakes and moats are filled with the giant pods of the superb Victoria
regia, and the flesh-colored cups of the lotus.

In the translucent green twilight of the flower-houses a hundred
varieties of the costly orchids thrive--not costly here. A shipload
can be bought of the natives for three cents apiece.

Walks carry you out into the dim aisles of the native jungle. Monkeys,
surprised at your footsteps, spring from limb to limb, and swing,
chattering, out of sight in a mass of rubber-vines. Splendid
macadamized roads, that are kept in perfect repair by a force of
naked Hindus and an iron roller drawn by six unwilling, hump-backed
bullocks, spread out over the island in every direction. Leave one at
any point outside the town, and plunge into the bordering jungle,
and you are liable to meet a tiger or a herd of wild boar. The
tigers swim across the straits from the mainland, and occasionally
strike down a Chinaman. It is said that if a Chinaman, a Malay, and
a European are passing side by side through a field, the tiger will
pick out the Chinaman to the exclusion of the other two.

Acres upon acres of pineapples stretch away on either hand, while
patches of bananas and farms of coffee are interspersed with spice
trees and sago swamps.

This road system is the secret of the development of the agriculture,
and one of the secrets of the rapid growth of the great English
colonies. Were it not for the great black python, that lies sleeping in
the road in front of you, or the green iguana that hangs in a timboso
tree over your head, or a naked runner pulling a rickshaw, you might
think you were travelling the wide asphaltum streets of Washington.

The home of the European in Singapore is peculiar to the country. The
parks about their great bungalows are small copies of the Botanic
Gardens--filled with all that is beautiful