BACK TO CIVILIZATION 373 
course of a talk between residents of Java—at the 
beginning, in the middle, and at the end of sen¬ 
tences. 
“I think it will rain to-morrow, but—-never 
mind.” 
“I missed the train, but—never mind.” 
“I’m not feeling well, but—never mind.” 
You hear it all the time, all through Java. 
In Java we had the best coffee we had struck 
since leaving Paris, in fact, the first real good cof¬ 
fee we had found. Even worthy Abdullah, our 
camp cook, was considerable of a failure at coffee 
making. The Boro Boedoer ruins are among the 
most stupendous in the world; the volcanoes of 
Java are like chimneys in Pittsburg, the terraced 
rice fields are beautiful beyond belief, but—never 
mind. I think I shall remember Java chiefly for its 
delicious coffee and for my house-to-house hunt for 
a waterwheel. 
I was sitting one day in the Singapore club talk¬ 
ing to Colonel Glover of the British army, when 
a hand tapped me on my shoulder. I looked around 
and there stood the King of Christmas Island. I 
no more expected to see him than I did the great 
Emperor Charlemagne, for it had been many years 
since we were college mates at Purdue University. 
His story is romantic. He is the nephew of Sir 
John Murray, who owns immense phosphate de¬ 
posits in Christmas Island, two hundred miles south 
of Java Head. Years ago he went out to help work 
these great deposits and has climbed up until now 
