To Usoof and his mother the great Wodena was kindness itself, and conversed with them in Javanese with much affability. X. wishing to see a real country village, and obtain speech with its people, away from the all-subduing eye of the local authority, promised to go that afternoon and visit the good lady in her ancestral home, and a few hours later he took the train for the next station, Tambak. No European had ever done such a thing before apparently, and there was quite a fuss at the station to find a first or even a second-class ticket. And during the search the railway officials displayed the most naive curiosity, and questioned the traveller without restraint. Arrived at Tambak X. descended, and immediately the station-master hurried forward and politely assured him that he had made a mistake, since Gombong, the large town, was the next station but one. He obviously could not believe it possible that any European should get out at Tambak on purpose, and regarded the polite insistence of X. that he knew where he wanted to go as evidence of some sort of want of sanity, to be passed over as harmless. Gesticulating and ejaculating, the worthy gentleman collected quite a little crowd of gazers as the white man, followed by Usoof, sauntered out of the station. Once out of sight, the station-master would have been intensely gratified to see X., who did not really in the least know where he was going, turn round and ask his follower the way. So they branched off to the left and wended their route along the banks of a noisy river, beneath the shade of huge trees which formed an avenue by the side of the water. On their right lay the endless padi fields of early green and ripening gold, all equally shimmering in the sun. This combination of ripe padi, side by side with newly sown, forms a striking feature of Javanese agriculture. While gazing upon this warm picture, and congratulating himself that someone had had the forethought to plant this pleasant row of trees, the voice of Usoof from the rear announced that they must now turn to the right. To turn to the right naturally meant to go across that sunlit plain. The hand of X. involuntarily went up to his stiff stand-up collar, and though he could not see the face of his attendant, he was aware through his back that he smiled. So climbing a rustic stile they branched off to the right and walked across the padi, where the lurid light was zigzagging above the corn. Presently the red roofs of a village were in sight, and once more the voice of Usoof spoke to introduce his birthplace. This was interesting, as was the additional information that the little river they had now to cross was the boundary of his ancestral land. The house they had come all this way to see was deep in the shadow of countless fruit trees, over which towered palms of considerable age. The green turf so scrupulously neat, and the little group of buildings set round the central house, all combined to make a picturesque scene.

In the front of these cottages, on the green turf, was the reception house—a square building, surrounded by benches with a table in the middle.

Here the stranger was escorted by a crowd of Javanese, cousins and sisters and brothers and aunts, without number—for it seemed less of a family than a tribe which had come together to do him honour. Then the guest was seated in the place of state, and fruit of many kinds in large brass dishes was set before him. It was truly a pleasant spot, and there was additional satisfaction in the thought that with so little to guide them they had been able to light upon it without lengthy search. Then ensued a conversation, during which the visitor learnt and imparted many things. Amongst the former he heard that once before, when the railway was being made, a white man had been seen in the neighbourhood, but the present occasion was the first, when the village had beheld one close. And this stranger told them of the Malays and his life amongst them, and how their houses and customs resembled theirs, while Usoof, alone venturing to remain upright, acted as interpreter as a swarm of young brown relations clasped his hands and ruthlessly robbed him of his watch and chain, his brass buttons, and all the loose coins in his pockets. Then X., who has a material mind, asked to see the title deeds of their lands, which were produced and inspected, and they were instructed how to proceed, so that when the time came the absent Usoof, as the eldest son, should obtain his fair share of the inheritance. Then, as the shadows were lengthening, and the zigzags on the padi had given way to a soft and mellow light fanned by an evening breeze, X. gave the signal to depart and announced that farewells must be made. Hurrying over his own, he wandered towards the river so that he might not witness the anguish of the mother bereaved anew of her long lost son, but he could not escape hearing the sounds of sobs which arose behind him. And the little procession of two—the European with his limp collar, and the Javanese bereft of all his finery—started once more across the plain. But the procession grew and grew, as one by one the fond relations hurried after it for one more glimpse or one more word for the departing brother. Then the traveller began to feel as near a brute as ever in his life before, and suggested to Usoof that he should bid him good-bye and return for good to the bosom of his weeping family. But this he declined to do, and at the rustic stile the actual parting came. Arrived at the train, the good station-master was still on the look-out and walking around as though something unusual had happened, but, tired and hot, X. parried his questionings with some abruptness. But the interviewer was as persistent as if he were on the staff of a London evening paper, and after producing an inverted wheelbarrow, which he offered X. as a seat, went to his house for a whisky and soda—called by the natives "Dutch water." After that walk in the sun, his whole physical and nervous system disorganized by the deglutition of strange fruits and condiments, and by witnessing heartrending family farewells, an unexpected whisky and soda, when such a restorative had seemed as unobtainable as the very moon which was beginning to appear, was welcome indeed. The station-master was at once the master of the situation, and the hitherto taciturn Englishman, his thirst assuaged and his limbs at rest, became as communicative as a star of the profession, and answered all questions as fully and docilely as a willing witness in the hands of his own counsel.