The fish market is the cleanest, and best arranged, and sweetest smelling that I ever went through. It is situated on a sort of open platform, under a thick thatched roof, built out over the sea, so that all the refuse is easily disposed of and washed away by the tide. From the platform on which it stands, two long jetties run some distance out into the sea, so that large fishing boats can come alongside and discharge their cargoes from the deep at the door of the market with scarcely any exposure to the rays of the tropical sun.

The poultry market is a curious place. On account of the intense heat everything is brought alive to the market, and the quacking, cackling, gobbling, and crowing that go on are really marvellous. The whole street is alive with birds in baskets, cages, and coops, or tied by the leg and thrown down anyhow. There were curious pheasants and jungle-fowl from Perak, doves, pigeons, quails, besides cockatoos, parrots, parrakeets, and lories. They are all very tame and very cheap; and some of the scarlet lories, looking like a flame of fire, chatter in the most amusing way. I have a cage full of tiny parrots not bigger than bullfinches, of a dark green colour, with dark red throats and blue heads, yellow marks on the back, and red and yellow tails. Having bought these, everybody seemed to think that I wanted an unlimited supply of birds, and soon we were surrounded by a chattering crowd, all with parrots in their hands and on their shoulders. It was a very amusing sight, though rather noisy, and the competition reduced the prices very much. Parrakeets ranged from twelve to thirty cents apiece, talking parrots and cockatoos from one to five dollars. At last the vendors became so energetic that I was glad to get into the gharry again, and drive away to a flower shop, where we bought some gardenias for one penny a dozen, beautifully fresh and fragrant, but with painfully short stalks.

Towards the end of the south-west monsoon, little native open boats arrive from the islands 1,500 to 3,000 miles to the southward of Singapore. Each has one little tripod mast. The whole family live on board. The sides of the boat cannot be seen for the multitudes of cockatoos, parrots, parrakeets, and birds of all sorts, fastened on little perches, with very short strings attached to them. The decks are covered with sandal-wood. The holds are full of spice, shells, feathers, and South Sea pearl shells. With this cargo they creep from island to island, and from creek to creek, before the monsoon, till they reach their destination. They stay a month or six weeks, change their goods for iron, nails, a certain amount of pale green or Indian red thread for weaving, and some pieces of Manchester cotton. They then go back with the north-east monsoon, selling their goods at the various islands on their homeward route. There are many Dutch ports nearer than Singapore, but they are over-regulated, and preference is given to the free English port, where the simple natives can do as they like so long as they do not transgress the laws.

As we were going on board, we met the Maharajah of Johore's servant, just going off with invitations to dinner, lunch, and breakfast for the next two days for all our party, and with all sorts of kind propositions for shooting and other amusements.

Some of our friends came off before luncheon to see the yacht, and we returned with them to tiffin at Government House. At four o'clock the carriage came round to take us to Johore. We wished good-bye to Singapore and all our kind friends, and started on a lovely drive through the tropical scenery. There is a capital road, fifteen miles in length, across the island, and our little ponies rattled along at a good pace. There was a pleasant breeze and not much dust, no sun, and a stream ran the whole way by the side of the road. The acacia flamboyante—that splendid tree which came originally from Rangoon and Sumatra—was planted alongside the road, and produced a most charming effect. It is a large tree, with large leaves of the most delicate green; on its topmost boughs grow gorgeous clusters of scarlet flowers with yellow centres, and the effect of these scarlet plumes tossing in the air is truly beautiful. As we were driving along we espied a splendid butterfly, with wings about ten inches long. Mr. Bingham jumped out of the carriage and knocked it down with his hat; but it was so like the colour of leaves in grass that in the twilight nobody could distinguish it, and, to our great disappointment, we could not find it. We were equally unsuccessful in our attempted capture of a water-snake a couple of feet long. We threw sticks and stones and our syce waded into the stream, but all to no purpose; it glided away into some safe little hole under the bank.

We reached the sea-shore about six o'clock, and found the Maharajah's steam-launch waiting to convey us across the Straits to the mainland. These Straits used to be the old route to Singapore, and are somewhat intricate. Tom engaged a very good pilot to bring the yacht round, but at the last moment thought that he should like to bring her himself; the result being that he arrived rather late for dinner. The Maharajah and most of the party were out shooting when we arrived; but Sir William Jervoise met us and showed us round the place, and also arranged about rooms for us to dress in. Johore is a charming place; the Straits are so narrow and full of bends that they look more like a peaceful river or inland lake in the heart of a tropical forest than an arm of the mighty ocean. As we approached we had observed a good deal of smoke rising from the jungle, and, as the shades of evening closed over the scene, we could see the lurid glare of two extensive fires.

We sat down thirty to dinner at eight o'clock. There were the Maharajah's brothers, the Prime Minister, Harkim or judge, and several other Malay chiefs, the Governor of the Straits Settlements, his family and suite, and one or two people from Singapore. The dinner was cooked and served in European style; the table decorated with gold and silver épergnes full of flowers, on velvet stands, and with heaps of small cut-flower glasses full of jasmine. We were waited on by the Malay servants of the establishment, dressed in grey and yellow, and by the Governor's Madras servants, in white and scarlet. The Maharajah and his native guests were all in English evening dress, with white waistcoats, bright turbans, and sarongs. The room was large and open on all sides, and the fresh evening breeze, in addition to the numerous punkahs, made it delightfully cool. The Maharajah is a strict Mohammedan himself, and drinks nothing but water. I spent the three hours during which the dinner lasted in very pleasant conversation with my two neighbours. We returned on board soon after eleven o'clock.

Maharajah of Johore's House
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