ed to the bedroom. In
Java hotels people--ladies as well as men--burdened with sponges and
towels, and some with soap, must cross a public court-yard and wait
their turn outside the bath-room door. In this particular hotel the
ordeal was especially trying, since the bathrooms were outside the
office, and in the centre of a regular street where people drove past
arriving and departing or calling on friends, and must perforce gaze
upon that little forlorn group of scantily-clad humans on cleanliness
intent. However, this hotel remains to X. one of blessed memory, since
it was while there he was, through the knowledge of the language, able
to render some slight service to two charming American ladies who were
courageously going round the world alone. On the following day these
ladies were passengers on board the s.s. _Godavery_ en route for Hong
Kong, Shanghai, Japan, Havaue, and all the places in the world
apparently, excepting, alas! that little one of Pura Pura.

That last evening there happened to be a performance of an English
circus, and X. went there and laughed at the jokes of an excellent
clown--a cheery being whose like he had not seen for many a long year
past. Fancy a clown in the jungle!

The next day he reluctantly bade farewell to the country where such a
pleasant three weeks had been spent, and embarking on board the s.s.
_Godavery_--his impedimenta increased by three ponies--the traveller
steamed again for Singapore. The day after his arrival there he started
for home, and some thirty-six hours later was once more seated in his
verandah, listening all alone to the chanting songs of his Malay
neighbours in the plain below. The moon was bright, and Pura Pura kept
high revelry.

Those readers who have had the patience to follow my friend through his
short holiday may leave him there--sighing perhaps with contented
discontent--an excuse for grumbling--while all around is beautiful, and
body and mind can revel in long chairs and books galore. There is a
world perhaps, he thinks, where all are up and doing, but--like his
dreams--it is very far away. Has he been to Java--he asks himself--has
he ever been anywhere beyond the edge of this green turfed hill--to
which are now ascending sounds of happiness from poor villagers who live
among the padi fields, away there across the river, dimly seen now when
the moon is high? And has he helped to make them happy?--did they always
sit singing there before he or others