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CHAPTER XX. 
PORTUGUESE TIMOR — SOLITUDE — AN OLD WOMAN — BUFFALOES 
ENCOUNTER WITH A NATIVE LETTER FROM H. FEEL- 
INGS IN FEVER— MOUNTAIN-WEN. 
7tk April. 
I have been already one week alone. I write 
daily in my journal that I am happy and con- 
tented, but I am only trying to deceive myself. 
I feel the loneliness exceedingly, and did not 
know to what test I was putting my endurance 
when I insisted on staying at the hut. The 
trial is entirely self-imposed. My friends at 
the Palazzio hold a room always at my disposal, 
and have begged me to pass the time of H.'s 
absence with them. A lady in the town, wife 
of the shipping agent, has gone to Macassar 
with all her household for a month, and she 
with great kindness pressed me to occupy her 
house during her absence. But the atmosphere 
of Dilly oppresses me, so that I readily forego 
the comforts of the town, and face the loneliness 
