ide of the river, stood the rajah's bungalow,
as well as two or three others belonging to Europeans, embosomed in
trees, cocoa-nuts and betel-nut palms, and other fruit-trees. Behind the
rajah's house rose the beautiful mountain of Santubong, wooded to its
summit nearly 3000 feet, with a rock cropping out here and there. At
this bungalow we landed, and were hospitably entertained for a few days
until the upper part of the court-house could be made ready for our
party.

Shall I ever forget my first impressions of the rajah's bungalow? A
peculiar scent pervaded it. You looked about for the cause till your
eyes fell on two saucers, one filled with green blossoms, the other
with deep golden ones, much the same shape--the kenanga and the
chimpaka, flowering trees, which grew near the house. Their flowers were
picked every day for the rooms, as the rajah loved the scent, and so did
the Malays. The ladies steeped the blossoms in cocoa-nut oil and
anointed themselves, placing them also in their long black hair, with
wreaths of jessamine flowers threaded on a string. These perfumes were
rather overpowering at first, but I learnt to like them after I had been
some time in Sarawak. The large, bare, cool rooms were very refreshing
after the little cabins of the _Julia_. And then the library! a treasure
indeed in the jungle; books on all sorts of subjects, bound in enticing
covers, always inviting you to bodily repose and mental activity or
amusement, as you might prefer. This library, so dear to us all because
we were all allowed to share it, was burnt in 1857 by the Chinese
rebels. It took two days to burn. I watched it from our library over the
water, and saw the mass of books glowing dull red like a furnace, long
after the flames had consumed the wooden house. It made one's heart ache
to see it. An old gentleman of our English society watched it too, and I
wondered why his head shook continually as he sat with his eyes fixed on
those sad ruins; but I found afterwards that the sight, and doubtless
its cause, had palsied him from that day. But I must not linger too long
in the rajah's bungalow, though the white pigeons seem to call to me
from the verandahs; we must take boat again (for there are no bridges
over the Sarawak river), and cross to the court-house.

This square wooden house, with latticed verandahs like a big cage, was
built by a German missionary, who purposed having a school on the ground
floor and living in the upp