In the few days which elapsed before the due arrival of official permission for X. to leave the jungle, it might have been observed that he was changed. The hitherto sedate individual became fussy and worried, and members of The Community agreed that he was "journey-proud"—a happy expression used by one of the neighbouring Malay potentates when wishing to describe his feelings at a time of emerging from the security of his own retreat. But there was much to do—clothes not looked at since the distant days when they left those cities on the other side of the pass, had to be inspected and all their lapses laid bare—moths had eaten holes in most conspicuous places, and in others rats had, literally, made their nests. The shirts were whitened shams, as they lay, no more than so many "dickeys," in a row, for when unfolded it was found that they had lost their tails, long since the prey of cockroaches or bedding for the young of mice; collars, when severed from their fray, were sadly diminished in height, and the overhauling of the boot department revealed the fact that there was nothing that would bear a more critical eye than that of "The Community." However, the best had to be made of a bad job, and one Bo Ping, a stitcher in leather, certainly did his best in the matter.

Then an equal preparation was required for the wardrobes of Usoof and Abu, the two followers selected to accompany X. upon his travels. This entailed many visits from the local tailors, who spent long hours in the back premises, accompanied by all their friends and relations—for in Pura Pura, as amongst many other Eastern peoples, for one person at work there are always ten looking on. Thus the interest in these proceedings was not centred upon X.—to some he played quite a secondary part in the matter, being merely an incident connected with the departure of Usoof, who was going to Java, which was his birthplace—as all the world knew—but which he had left years ago, when little more than a baby in arms. Usoof was going home to find his relations and tell them all about himself, and "Tuan"[2] X. happened to be going too. This being a fact widely reported and discussed nightly far into the small hours of the morning, while friends ate light refreshments of bread and sugar with pink-coloured syrups to wash them down, it is not to be wondered at that X. began at last to feel that it was settled he was going principally to search for Usoof's mother, who was possibly living in a village somewhere in Java, her name unknown; indeed, her still being in the land of the living was a matter of conjecture. This quest, however, which obtained additional interest from the little that was knowable of its object, is alluded to here, so that when it is subsequently related how it led X. from the beaten track of tourists, there may be no surprise, since it can be understood that it would have been impossible for him to return to Pura Pura without some attempt to perform that which was expected of him.

In due time arrived the document permitting X. to leave Pura Pura, and the day of departure was fixed. Usoof and Abu had already gone on ahead in a bullock cart with the luggage, and X. was to leave next morning. Several of "The Community" kindly came to see the start and sat calm and superior over their long "stengahs," while the intending traveller endeavoured to compress into a quarter of an hour the final instructions for the regulation of affairs in his absence. However, after writing various little memos and giving many injunctions to the syces and tenants generally, concerning the care of the horses, sheep, geese, dogs, bears, tame storks, porcupines, and other live stock which belonged to the household, the traveller mounted into his sulky, with that sinking in the region of his heart which comes to all those temporarily about to leave Pura Pura's secluded calm. And thus he drove forth into the great populous world beyond. The first glimpse of it was distant twenty-four miles, and reached after a drive through some of the most beautiful jungle scenery imaginable. This oasis of civilization was the capital of the State at whose port it was necessary to embark. Here X. remained for the night, accepting hospitality from the kind doctor who had looked upon his complaint and so scientifically localised and named it. To one fresh from the jungle, this evening appeared full of novelty and life, from the fact of there being strange faces present. One of the party was a French Roman Catholic priest, known to all in the various States as a man of practical good works and a congenial companion. And there was also a gentleman of title—a visitor fresh from England—who should have been called a globe-trotter had he not, in the course of the meal, thanked Providence that he had come across none of that genus in those localities. This gentleman, who rejoiced at the absence of globe-trotters, was bound for such a variety of places in such a short space of time that X. could only regard him with bewilderment and envy. For while he had only undertaken his journey after the mature consideration of a month, during which time the correspondence concerning leave and medical certificates had assumed proportions of official magnitude, this traveller carried with him all the documents connected with his plans in the form of a piece of paper on which was written exactly where he must sleep, lunch, and dine during the ensuing fortnight. It would be interesting to know if this visitor actually accomplished his task and saw all that he proposed in the time allowed. Perhaps, when he gets home, his community—the other titled people—will put pressure on him to write a book, and satisfy our legitimate curiosity.

On the following morning X. boarded the train on the railroad which connects the capital with the sea. He found himself an object of interest to the dwellers in those distant parts, not only as the fleshly embodiment of the personality hitherto known as initials at the bottom of official minutes, but as the champion who had not long since descended from his mountain for the purpose of engaging the railway in litigation, in consequence of his garments having suffered from sparks on the occasion of his last venture in the train.

This case had excited considerable interest, and X. had made a triumphant exit, as he drove away from the court with portions of charred wardrobe packed in behind. During the present journey there were no sparks, and the coast was reached without any incident which might promise litigation. The party consisting of X., Usoof and Abu, embarked on the s.s. Malacca, a fairly comfortable steamship with a kindly captain. The sniff of the sea was delightful to the jungle-wallah, and, freed from official chains, he reclined in a long chair feeling that all his plans and preparations had at least a present good result. The only incident of the voyage that remains in his memory is the fact that a Chinese passenger sitting opposite at dinner drank a bottle of whisky and a bottle of claret mixed, and appeared to suffer no subsequent inconvenience. In the evening the ship lay off Malacca. There are few more suggestive views than this one of twinkling lights, here and there disclosing momentary peeps of that picturesque old town, peeps that conjure forth visions of half forgotten stories of that place of many memories, told, in the jungle by the flicker of the camp fire, by Malays, adepts at relating tales handed down by their fathers.

Then the cool evening of a tropical climate, the sea glinting in silver moonlit streaks around the ship, which throwing a huge shadow on the water lies silently swinging to her anchor before the peering little red stars of that solitary old-world city. Scenes such as these are some compensation to many a home-sick exile.

Ah, well,—we must not get sentimental and out of tune, though the snores of the whisky-claret Chinaman are particularly discordant. However he passed—as happily passengers do—and so did the night and the early dawn as the s.s. Malacca approached the beautiful island of Singapore (does everyone know it is an island?) Ask you another! Well, can my readers say straight off what constitutes the Straits Settlements, and which are islands? but never mind—skip this and hurry on over the bracket, if an answer were really wanted the bracket would not be there.