in the flora of the
East. From five to twenty servants alone are kept to look after its
walks and hedges and lawns.

A bungalow proper may consist of but a half-dozen rooms, and yet look
like a vast manor house. It is the generous sweep of the verandas
running completely around the house that lends this impression. Behind
its bamboo chicks you retire on your return from the office. The
Chinese "boy" takes your pipe-clayed shoes and cork helmet, and
brings a pair of heelless grass slippers. If a friend drop in, you
never think of inviting him into your richly furnished drawing-room,
but motion him to a long rattan chair, call "Boy, bring the master
a cup of tea," and pass a box of Manila cigars.

Bungalows are one story high, with a roof of palm thatch, and are
raised above the ground from two to five feet by brick pillars, leaving
an open space for light and air beneath. Nearly every day it rains
for an hour in torrents. The hot, steaming earth absorbs the water,
and the fierce equatorial sun evaporates it, only to return it in a
like shower the next day. So every precaution must be taken against
dampness and dry-rot.

In every well-ordered bungalow seven to nine servants are an
absolute necessity, while three others are usually added from time
to time. The five elements, if I may so style them, are the "boy,"
or boys, the cook and his helpers, the horseman, the water-carrier,
the gardener, and the maid. The adjuncts are the barber, the wash man,
the tailor, and the watchman. In a mild way, you are at the mercy of
these servants. Their duties are fixed by caste, one never intruding
on the work of another. You must have all or none. Still this is
no hardship. Only newcomers ever think, of trying to economize on
servant bills. The record of the thermometer is too appalling, and
you speedily become too dependent on their attentions.

The Chinese "boy"--he is always the "boy" until he dies--is the
presiding genius of the house. He it is who brings your tea and fruit
to the bedside at 6 A.M., and lays out your evening suit ready for
dinner, puts your studs in your clean shirt, brings your slippers,
knows where each individual article of your wardrobe is kept, and,
in fact, thinks of a hundred and one little comforts you would never
have known of, had he not discovered them. He is your valet de chambre,
your butler, your steward and your general agent, your interpreter and
your directory. He controls the other servants w