We
stepped from the ladder into a long corridor, well-matted, which led to
a doorway with a gold-embroidered silk or valance, and a looped-up
portiere of white-flowered silk or crepe. This was the entrance to a
small room very well proportioned, with two similar doorways, curtained
with flowered silk, one leading to a room which we did not see, and the
other to a bamboo gridiron platform, which in the better class of Malay
houses always leads to a smaller house at the back, where cooking and
other domestic operations are carried on, and which seems given up to
the women. There was a rich, dim light in the room, which was cool and
wainscoted entirely with dark red wood, and there was only one long,
low window, with turned bars of the same wood. There were three
handsome cabinets with hangings of gold and crimson embroidery, and an
ebony frame containing a verse of the Koran in Arabic characters hung
over one doorway. In accordance with Mohammedan prohibitions, there was
no decoration which bore the likeness of any created thing, but there
were some artistic arabesques under the roof. The furniture, besides
the cabinets, consisted of a divan, several ebony chairs, a round table
covered with a cool yellow cloth, and a table against the wall draped
with crimson silk flowered with gold. The floor was covered with fine
matting, over which were Oudh rugs in those mixtures of toned-down rich
colors which are so very beautiful. Richness and harmony characterized
the room, and it was distinctively Malay; one could not say that it
reminded one of anything except of the flecked and colored light which
streams through dark, old, stained glass.
The Datu Bandar's brother and uncle came in, the first a very handsome
Hadji, with a bright, intelligent countenance. He has lived in Mecca
for eight years studying the Koran under a renowned teacher, and in
this quest of Mussulman learning has spent several thousand dollars.
"We never go to Mecca to trade," he said; "we go for religious purposes
only." These men looked superb in their red dresses and turbans,
although the Malays are anything but a handsome race. Their hospitality
was very graceful. Many of the wealthier Mohammedans, though they don't
drink wine, keep it for their Christian guests, and they offered us
champagne, which is supposed to be an irresistible temptation to the
Christian palate. On our refusing it they brought us cow's milk and
most delicious coffee with a very fragrant aroma, and not darker in
color than tea of an average strength. This was made from roasted
coffee leaves. The berries are exported. A good many pretty, quiet
children stood about, but though the Rajah gave us to understand that
they were the offspring of three mothers, we were not supposed to see
any of "the mean ones within the gates."
Our hosts had a good deal to say, and did not leave us to entertain
them, though we are but "infidel dogs." That we are regarded as such,
along with all other unbelievers, always makes me feel shy with
Mohammedans.
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