out of this dull life that is sufficiently different from English life to amuse you—something that has what Jacquemont calls a ‘couleur locale.’ I had two people sent to me yesterday by two ladies who thought I should like to sketch them—one a Malay in a beautiful dress, the other a man who is employed to find out domestic thefts. Mrs. had lost a trinket and sent for this man, and he performed all sorts of odd incantations amongst her servants, and then gave them rice to eat, and the thief is never able to swallow the rice. The truth is that the servants are naturally timid, and the thief, from fright, cannot chew the rice, which requires a great deal of moisture, and then the other servants oblige him to confess, so that the conjurer hardly ever fails. The mere sight of him would frighten me into confession, and I was obliged to send for Captain , who sketches too, to be with me. The man’s hair has never been cut since he was born, and hangs in long grey ropes all over him. He sat huddled up in a scanty drapery, rolling his immense eyes from side to side and muttering to himself. You will see my sketch of him soon, as we are expecting Captain Chads every day, and he is to take home my drawings.
