gathered rose leaves and yellow
blooms of fragrant chimpaka. The Wodena and his visitor called on the
chief Chinese of the town, of which race he informed him there were two
hundred all told. These people scarcely resembled the Chinamen as known
to X., since they had all been born and bred in the neighbourhood, and
not one of them had experience of life beyond the island of Java. The
head Chinaman produced various curios--so considered--for inspection,
these being sent for from the pawn-shops close by. The Wodena
volunteered the information that large quantities of opium were consumed
in the district. This meant, as there were no Chinese, the habitual use
of this drug amongst the people. After this walk the little procession
wended its way back to the Wodena's house. Dinner that night proved a
weird meal, as Usoof, who cooked, had gone to the neighbouring village
of Tambak, where he found his mother dwelt, and Abu, who had never
cooked anything more complicated than rice, tried his 'prentice hand.
The next day was Sunday, and the weekly fair was at its height till
twelve noon. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were packed tightly
together, line after line, under little sheds, selling sarongs and
cloths of every conceivable colour, with hats, mats, and native
ornaments of all descriptions. It was an animated scene, and one not
easily forgotten, and this was the first time, if the Wodena was to be
believed, that any white man had seen it. Be that as it may, or perhaps
as it may not, X. allowed himself the satisfaction of believing that it
was the first time that any Englishman had seen it.

After the fair the traveller returned home, and there received a visit
from Usoof and his mother. He had found her, and the object of his
journey to Java was accomplished. It appears that he had met her while
walking along a path by the river, which his awakened memory recalled
would lead him to his home. And she, noting his unusual dress and
stranger-like appearance, stopped to ask whether he had any news of her
son who many years ago had gone away to Singapore, and to whom she had
so frequently written, receiving no reply. She feared he was dead, but
as the kind stranger came from foreign parts it was possible that
amongst the colony of Javanese in Singapore he might have heard of her
long-lost son.

Such was the meeting, and a dramatic and successful climax to what had
seemed a somewhat forlorn quest. Had I the pen of a Swette