Round the walls ran three tiers of bunks for the accommodation of smokers, and each bunk was several degrees filthier than the room. As far as we could judge from a cursory glance, it contained about ten or a dozen persons, three-fourths of whom were lolling in their bunks, either smoking or asleep. Three of the smokers were females, the rest males of all nationalities and ages. A Chinaman who, judging from appearances, could certainly not have seen less than a hundred summers, was evidently the ruling spirit of the place. He it was who admitted us, and even among the gang with whom he had to deal, his word ruled as law. The atmosphere was like pea-soup, and was momentarily getting thicker, but the denser it became the more the other occupants of the room seemed to enjoy it.

At this juncture our guide, philosopher, and friend became anxious to try a pipe, but this we were disinclined to permit for obvious reasons; nor were we tempted to indulge ourselves, though the intense enjoyment and supreme content manifested by those who did, certainly seemed to indicate an amount of pleasure, the opportunity for the enjoyment of which it would be folly to let slip. Sometimes an almost perfect stillness reigned in the room, broken only by the heavy stertorous breathing of the sleepers; then a smoker would lay down his pipe with a sodden grunt of satisfaction, and compose himself for the blissful dreams. One man lying in a bunk near us irresistibly attracted my attention. He was, without doubt, a European, and, if I might hazard the guess, an Englishman; possibly he might have once been a gentleman, for his white face had a look of refinement about it utterly at variance with his surroundings.

In an undertone I questioned our companion regarding him. He shrugged his shoulders with a laugh, and said scornfully, ‘Him? Oh! he’s one of ti8 Englishmen: had a University education, they say; not much use to him now, is it?’

Poor devil! If his mother could only have seen him as , sleeping the hopeless sleep of the Black Smoke, what would she have felt? After a little while he woke, and for a few moments lay still, his eyes opening and shutting as the remaining fumes of the drug played across his brain. Then he began to move about, and finally he dragged himself out of his bunk on to his feet. Gazing round the room with a bewildered expression, his eyes fell upon us. Never, if I live to be a hundred, shall I forget the piteous look which spread across his features; it told its own story better than any words. But let us draw the curtain: we had seen enough. The rest of the night .was spent in wandering through places that were revelations — places of even the recollection of which I should almost like to rid my memory.

There are slums and slums — Little Bourke Street, Melbourne; Whitechapel, London; Port Said; Calcutta; China Town, San Francisco; and Singapore: each has a reputation of its own, but surely for unadulterated misery and vice, unaccompanied by any redeeming feature whatsoever, it would be difficult to match the last named. There is a peculiar, undefinable repulsiveness about the native quarter of Singapore which baffles description. It must be seen to be appreciated.