These Wooden Bungalows Are Hot, For The
Attap Roofs Have No Lining, But They Are Also Airy.
There is no-one but
myself at night in the one in which my room is, but this is nothing
after the solitude of the great, rambling Stadthaus.
Since we came a
sentry has been on duty always, and a bull-dog is chained at the foot
of the ladder which leads to both bungalows. But there is really
nothing to fear from these "treacherous Malays." It is most curious to
see the appurtenances of civilization in the heart of a Malay jungle,
and all the more so because our long night journey up the Linggi makes
it seem more remote than it is. We are really only sixty miles from
Malacca.
The drawing-room has a good piano, and many tasteful ornaments, books,
and china - gifts from loving friends and relations in the far off
home - and is as livable as a bachelor would be likely to make it. There
is a billiard table in the corridor. The dining-room, which is reached
by going out of doors, with its red-tiled floor and walls of dark,
unpolished wood, is very pretty. In the middle of the dinner table
there is a reflecting lake for "hot-house flowers;" and exquisite
crystal, menu cards with holders of Dresden china, four classical
statuettes in Parian, with pine-apples, granadillas, bananas,
pomegranates, and a durion blanda, are the "table decorations." The
cuisine is almost too elaborate for a traveler's palate, but plain meat
is rarely to be got, and even when procurable is unpalatable unless
disguised.
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