We determined to
go straight to the Government House and make a morning call at the
unearthly hour of 8 a.m. The drive from the wharf was full of beauty,
novelty, and interest. We had not landed so near the line before, and
the most tropical of tropical plants, trees, flowers, and ferns, were
here to be seen, growing by the roadside on every bank and dust-heap.
The natives, Malays, are a fine-looking, copper-coloured race, wearing
bright-coloured sarongs and turbans. There are many Indians, too, from
Madras, almost black, and swathed in the most graceful white muslin
garments, when they are not too hard at work to wear anything at all.
The young women are very good-looking. They wear not only one but
several rings, and metal ornaments in their noses, and a profusion of
metal bangles on their arms and legs, which jingle and jangle as they
move.
The town of Singapore itself is not imposing, its streets, or rather
roads of wooden huts and stone houses, being mixed together
indiscriminately. Government House is on the outskirts of the city in
the midst of a beautiful park which is kept in excellent order, the
green turf being closely mown and dotted with tropical trees and
bushes. The House itself is large and handsome, and contains splendid
suites of lofty rooms, shaded by wide verandahs, full of ferns and
palms, looking deliciously green and cool.
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