He Then Insisted On Taking Our Hired
Gharrie And Scrubby Pony And Sending Us On In His Buggy With A Fine
Australian Horse, But Mr. Maxwell Says That This Was As Much From
Policy As Courtesy, As It Gives Him Importance To Be On Obviously
Friendly Terms With The Resident.
We went on to Kamunting, a forlorn town, mainly built of attap, with
roads and ditches needing much improvement, and I bargained for some
Chinese purses and visited a gambling saloon, the place in which one
sees the peculiar expression of the Chinese face at its fullest
development.
There is nothing very shocking about it, nothing more than
an intensified love of gain without a mask. Each coolie takes his pipe
of opium after his day's work, and each has a pot of tea kept always
hot in a thickly wadded basket, a luxury which no Chinaman seems able
to do without.
We called at a Sikh guard-house, and the magnificent sergeant took me
to see his wife, the woman of the regiment, who is so rigidly secluded
that not even the commanding officer nor Mr. Maxwell have seen her. She
is very beautiful, and has an exquisite figure, but was overloaded with
jewelry. She wore a large nose-jewel, seven rings of large size
weighing down her finely formed ears, four necklaces, and silver
bangles on each arm from the wrist to the elbow, besides some on her
beautiful ankles. She had an infant boy, the child of the regiment, in
her arms, clothed only in a silver hoop, and the father took him and
presented him to me with much pride.
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