110 
OUR CHINESE FRIEND. 
the building. We were told with pride that he 
is “ hundreds of years old.” Before the case in 
which he is kept are piles of food, an offering 
to him. The worshippers feast in an apartment 
behind, where groaning tables are spread for 
them. They sit smoking and talking in the 
sacred edifice as if they were out visiting. 
Occasionally we pay a visit to our old friend 
the Chinese gentleman, and enjoy pleasant and 
instructive chats on all subjects. He showed us 
a bundle of tortoise-shell — thirteen pieces in all, 
unpolished and produced from a homely calico 
bag — which he says is worth a thousand rupees. 
Sueh a possession, it seems, is an indication of 
prosperity and a guarantee of luck. This good 
gentleman is the owner of much property in 
Amboina : he is the chief baker, and keeps a 
number of cows for the supply of milk to 
Europeans. 
It is now the season of the mangosteen. I 
had heard much of this fruit before coming to 
the East, and my expectation was on very 
tiptoe from reading one traveller’s opinion that 
“this beautiful fruit is the epitome of all gas- 
tronomic delights, meeting in subtlest harmony 
upon the palate, a fragrant fleeting poem ; ” and 
that, “ if there were more of this fruit on the 
