insistence of X. that he knew where he wanted to go
as evidence of some sort of want of sanity, to be passed over as
harmless. Gesticulating and ejaculating, the worthy gentleman collected
quite a little crowd of gazers as the white man, followed by Usoof,
sauntered out of the station. Once out of sight, the station-master
would have been intensely gratified to see X., who did not really in the
least know where he was going, turn round and ask his follower the way.
So they branched off to the left and wended their route along the banks
of a noisy river, beneath the shade of huge trees which formed an avenue
by the side of the water. On their right lay the endless padi fields of
early green and ripening gold, all equally shimmering in the sun. This
combination of ripe padi, side by side with newly sown, forms a striking
feature of Javanese agriculture. While gazing upon this warm picture,
and congratulating himself that someone had had the forethought to plant
this pleasant row of trees, the voice of Usoof from the rear announced
that they must now turn to the right. To turn to the right naturally
meant to go across that sunlit plain. The hand of X. involuntarily went
up to his stiff stand-up collar, and though he could not see the face of
his attendant, he was aware through his back that he smiled. So climbing
a rustic stile they branched off to the right and walked across the
padi, where the lurid light was zigzagging above the corn. Presently the
red roofs of a village were in sight, and once more the voice of Usoof
spoke to introduce his birthplace. This was interesting, as was the
additional information that the little river they had now to cross was
the boundary of his ancestral land. The house they had come all this way
to see was deep in the shadow of countless fruit trees, over which
towered palms of considerable age. The green turf so scrupulously neat,
and the little group of buildings set round the central house, all
combined to make a picturesque scene.

In the front of these cottages, on the green turf, was the reception
house--a square building, surrounded by benches with a table in the
middle.

Here the stranger was escorted by a crowd of Javanese, cousins and
sisters and brothers and aunts, without number--for it seemed less of a
family than a tribe which had come together to do him honour. Then the
guest was seated in the place of state, and fruit of many kinds in large
brass dishes was set before him.