chap, xv.] A MACASSAR FARM. 355 



stantial breakfast of rice and meat was ready in a cool 

 verandah. Putting on a clean -white linen suit, he then 

 drove to town in his buggy, where he had an office, with 

 two or three Chinese clerks who looked after his affairs. 

 His business was that of a coffee and opium merchant. 

 He had a coffee estate at Bontyne, and a small prau which 

 traded to the Eastern islands near New Guinea, for mother- 

 of-pearl and tortoisesbell. About one he would return home, 

 have coffee and cake or fried plantain, first changing his 

 dress for a coloured cotton shirt and trousers and bare 

 feet, and then take a siesta with a book. About four, after 

 a. cup of tea, he would walk round his premises, and 

 generally stroll down to Mamajam, to pay me a visit and 

 look after his farm. 



This consisted of a coffee plantation and an orchard 

 of fruit trees, a dozen horses and a score of cattle, with 

 a small village of Timorese slaves and Macassar servants. 

 ( hie family looked after the cattle and supplied the house 

 with milk, bringing me also a large glassful every morn- 

 ing, one of my greatest luxuries. Others had charge of 

 the horses, which were brought in every afternoon and fed 

 with cut grass. Others had to cut grass for their master's 

 horses at Macassar — not a very easy task in the dry 

 season, when all the country looks like baked mud ; or 

 in the rainy season, when miles in every direction are 

 Hooded. How they managed it was a mystery to me, 



A A 2 



