--

"Mr. X----?"

"No."

"Mr. X---- is not there" (to me).

"All right," I said; "tell the clerk to tell Mr. X----"

But the telephone was now shut off, and the process of connecting
had to be gone through again.

"Tell Mr. X---- What is your name?"

"Worsfold," I said.

"Versfolt?"

"Yes."

"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer Versfolt----"

"Who?" (from the other end).

"Mynheer Versfolt."

"Who?"

"Versfolt."

"Who?"

"How you spell it?" (to me).

I spelt it.

"Mynheer V-e-a-s-f-o-l-t. Veasfolt, _Veasfolt_, VEASFOLT."

Here he appealed to a Dutch gentleman who could speak English, and
wrote down the name, W-o-r-s-f-o-l-d.

"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer---- Listen, I will spell it--W-o-r,"
etc.

"Oh, never mind; tell him that the Englishman is going to
Buitenzorg to-morrow."

"The English gentleman is going to Buitenzorg to-morrow."

"What Englishman?"

"Mynheer Veasfolt."

"Who?"

"Mynheer Veasfold. I will spell it--W-o-r," etc.

"Yes; what about him?"

"Tell Mr. X---- that Mynheer Veasfolt----"

"Who?"

"Oh, never mind," I said; "Mr. X---- will understand."

But the polite landlord was not satisfied. "It is no trouble; I
will tell him."

Then I went away in haste, as the process had already occupied half
an hour, and I was telephoning to avoid delay. Five minutes later I
passed the bureau. The landlord was still at that wretched
instrument. I hurried by without daring to look up, fearing that I
should be appealed to again. I dared not even ask whether the
message ever reached the office or not.

Beside the town gate--a massive stone arch, with two large iron
images on either side, remnants of early victories over the kings
of Bantam--there are two buildings of interest in this (business)
quarter of the town, the _stadthaus_, or town hall, and the town
church. The former is just such an old Dutch edifice as might be
seen in any of the towns of Holland, standing in a tree-planted
space. In it are the offices of the Resident and the police
authorities. The _landraad_, or county court, also holds its
sittings here; and on the stone terrace in front of the building,
the town guard (a native force armed with lances or picks, and
therefore called "pickiniers") are generally to be seen drilling.
The town church is across the river, on the road to Tanjong Priok.
It is given up to a half-caste congregation, but its walls are
lined with memorial tablets of former governors, and there