"My servant lif in that boat," said Mr. Kleesman. "He take wife, and go lif in a boat. His name Jinghi. I write it for you in Malay." Then Mr. Kleesman wrote on a piece of paper some queer characters, which Nelly said looked just like the letters on tea-chests. "Could you write my name in Malay?" asked Nelly, timidly. "Yes, yes," said Mr. Kleesman: "I write." And he handed Nelly a card with the following marks on it:-- [Illustration] "Dear me!" said Nelly: "is that all it takes to write 'Nelly'? It is a quicker language than ours: isn't it? May I have the paper?" "I write you better," said Mr. Kleesman; and wrote it over again on a card, which Nelly wrapped up carefully and put in her pocket. Rob wanted to ask for his name too, but he did not dare to; and Mr. Kleesman did not think of it. He meant to be kind to Rob; but he was thinking most of the time about Nelly. Nelly seemed to him, as he said, like a little girl of Germany, and not of America; and he loved to look at her, and to hear her talk. There were dozens of pictures in the portfolio; more than I could tell you about: pictures of streets in Malacca; pictures of the people in their gay-colored clothes,--they looked like negroes, only not quite so black; pictures of palm-trees, with cocoanuts growing on them; pictures of pineapples growing; and pictures of snakes, especially one of a deadly snake,--the cobra. "Him I kill in my own house, close by my veranda," said Mr. Kleesman: "and I draw him with all his colors, while he lie dead, before he are cold." While they were talking, there came in a man in rough clothes, a miner, carrying a small bag of stout canvas. He opened it, and took out a handful of stones, of a very dark color, almost black. "Would you dig where you found that?" he said, holding out the stones to Mr. Kleesman. Mr. Kleesman took them in his hand, looked at them attentively, and said:-- "Yes, that is goot mineral. There might be mine vere dat mineral is on top. We haf proverb in our country, 'No mine is not wort not'ing unless he haf black hat on his head.'" The man put his stones back in his bag, nodded his head, and went out, saying:-- "I reckon we'll buy that claim. I'll let you know." A small piece of the stone had fallen on the floor. Nelly eyed it like a hawk. She was trying to remember where she had seen stones just like it. She knew she had seen them somewhere; she recollected thinking at the time how very black the stones were. She picked up the little piece of stone, and asked Mr. Kleesman if it were good for any thing. "Oh, no, for not'ing," he said, and turned back to the pictures. Nelly's interest in the pictures had grown suddenly very small. The little black stone had set her to thinking. She put it in her pocket, and told Rob it was time to go home. "Ven vill you again come?" said Mr. Kleesman. "Next Tuesday," replied Nelly. "That is our day."