On the afternoon of the day of his arrival, a Sunday, having declined a kind invitation to a party for the theatre, X. decided to leave for Buitenzorg. He thought he sniffed fever mingled with the other very apparent odours in his room on the ground floor, while Usoof and Abu not only could not bathe but were unable to send his clothes to the wash. The combination of reasons and of smells was strong.

It may be mentioned here, it being about as apropos in this place as it would be in any other, that all functions in Java, from a reception of the Governor General to a performance by a travelling show, take place on a Sunday.

The train left Batavia at 4.30 and X. reached Buitenzorg at six.

So much that is misleading has been written about Buitenzorg—the Washington of Java, that X. was woefully deceived. It certainly is a beautiful place—indeed exquisitely so, but a traveller is scarcely satisfied with the beauties of nature when he pays to mankind for creature comforts which he fails to obtain. The most agreeable feature of the journey to a stranger who has, as it were, been long hemmed in by dense jungles in the Peninsula, was certainly the long stretches of open country reminding him of the pasture lands and fields which fly past the train at home. Cattle and ponies grazing complete the illusion, and X. could scarcely refrain from outspoken exclamations of delight.

It had been much impressed upon the traveller that he must by all means obtain a room at the Belle Vue Hotel, and if possible, one overlooking the back which governs the famous view. This was achieved by telegram. On arrival a carriage with three ponies conveyed him to the hotel—a poor building on a lovely site, which bristled with possibilities.

The famous back terrace of rooms was at the further side of the courtyard to the entrance, and, once duly installed, X. was delighted with the outlook. Just immediately below the window was the railway line—below that rushed a large, broad, shallow mountain river in which half the native population seemed to be bathing. Beyond these stretched an unbroken view of picturesque villages, whose scattered red-roofed houses peeped here and there from among the palms and other graceful trees. Beyond again, the mountain—with five distinct sugar-loaf tops, tops which had to be watched while counting as they emerged and disappeared in turn from out and in the hanging land of clouds. Yes, the view had certainly not been overrated, and X. was glad he came.

Usoof and Abu refused to consider anything beautiful, and could only exclaim with horror at the bathers in the river, who evidently shocked their ideas of propriety. Their master was not surprised at their comments, but his own views were broader and his moral perceptions perhaps blunter, and experience had taught him the propriety of the injunction concerning Rome and the Romans. But it was nevertheless quite certain that the most moderate London County Councillor could not have borne the sight of that river without a shock to his system. After revelling in the view from the verandah a black coat was donned for dinner, which the wearer subsequently found rendered him conspicuous, and he then crossed the courtyard to the dining room prepared to dine well off fresh fish, mutton, and other products of the country. Although the soup was on the table cooling, the company sat outside round a little table drinking gin and bitters. Not wanting any, X. as Clark Russell would say, hung in the wind, and then after a few seconds—seeing that dinner was certainly ready—seated himself. This isolated action rendered him almost as conspicuous as his coat, which was also alone in its sombre glory. Presently others followed the stranger's example, and the meal began. Then ensued a period of disillusion. There was no punkah, the glare of the lamplight was blinding, and the food—all of it—coarse, greasy and cold. The soup which had been waiting was of the variety known as tinned, an old acquaintance which X. had hoped to have left in the jungle until his return. This, and other messes, would not have mattered so greatly, had not the proprietor of the hotel, a pompous gentleman (X. afterwards learnt he was President of the Race Club), stood sentry over the door, whence issued the rows of servants with the dishes, narrowly watching what each guest partook of and detecting with an eagle eye the uneatable scraps which the defeated diner had striven to conceal beneath his knife and fork. The most amusing thing during the progress of the meal was the conversation of an elderly English couple, who, in truly British tourist fashion seemed to imagine they were alone, and the people round them but figures of wax who could neither hear nor be affected by anything they might say. "Oh, how they soak the fish in grease," the lady would exclaim; or, "This is good meat, but ruined, yes, positively ruined in the cooking; look, my dear, it is (doubtfully, and sniffing at her plate), it is absolutely soaked in grease—oh, what a pity, how can you eat it, dear—but you would eat anything," the speaker continued garrulously, "for yesterday you ate the fish on board that steamer when it was almost rotten—I smelt it from my cabin before we came out, etc," and much more in the same strain. To all these domestic remarks, her companion vouchsafed no reply, but continued his dinner as though accustomed to such an accompaniment.

It was as much as X. could do to refrain from laughing, and, fearful of hurting the feelings of others himself, he would take another helping when the proprietor was looking, and felt uncommonly "hot" at the conduct of his compatriot. However, worse was to come, for at the end of dinner, when the "boys" brought coffee made in the way usual to the country—a few drops of cold essence of coffee at the bottom of the cups, which had to be filled up with boiling milk or water—the lady from England could not contain her indignation, but loudly scolded the waiter for such a stingy way of putting so little in the cup, since "coffee should surely be cheap in Java," and then proceeded to empty the contents of all the cups into two, one for herself and one for her husband, while saying with a smile "we like a cup of coffee, not a drop." Then while she sipped her full cup like one on whom there unwillingly dawns the unpleasant consciousness of having made a mistake, the lady further addressed the waiter and asked, "Do they always drink cold coffee in Java?" The waiter, who could only stand passive while this calm robbery was committed—for had not the whole company to wait for a second brew—made reply with the only English of his vocabulary, "yes." X., who had the doubtful advantage of understanding as well as seeing all that was going on, glared fiercely as he saw himself deprived of the only portion of the meal which was at all likely to be good, and could willingly have caused an interruption by using his napkin and bread as a sling and a stone. The "yes" of the native apparently checked the embarrassment which the lady was beginning to feel, and triumphantly she exclaimed, "My goodness, what a country." Then the husband blew his nose with discomfort, and, her attention attracted, his good wife exclaimed, "My dear, you have a cold, let us go to bed," and they went. X., and possibly others, found satisfaction in the thought that people might go to bed after partaking of such a concoction as that couple had done, but that they certainly would not sleep. Nor did they, as the sequel showed. For the lady and her husband also had a room on the terrace suite, and this was divided only by a thin partition from that of X., and though he did not wish to listen, the first words which greeted his gratified ears on the following morning were, "Oh, darling, I have had such a dreadful night; I never closed my eyes." X. heard no more as he delicately buried his head in the pillows, lest he should be dragged too deep in domestic confidences; but he had heard enough—he was avenged. And they knew themselves it was the coffee, since it was noticed that this night after dinner the sleepless couple each firmly declined the brimming cups, which, with kind forethought for the public good, the proprietor had ordered to be handed to them.