The houses of the foreign residents are one-story structures, raised a few feet from the ground, built of brick or stone, covered with plaster and whitewashed. A broad flight of steps leads to a wide verandah, which is supplied with furniture, especially easy chairs of luxurious model, and this place is the sitting-room and reception hall of the family. Within are parlor and bedrooms, and at the back of the house is another verandah, generally used as a dining-room. One who takes an evening's walk, and as he passes each house, looks through the dark foliage at the brilliantly lighted verandah, with its family and social groups, will get a series of most enchanting tableaux. When the residents wish to be "not at home," they darken the front verandah and get further into their houses, so callers are spared useless inquiries. In the rear of the house, the servants' lodgings, kitchen and bath-house are placed. The kitchens are a novelty. A raised platform runs the length of the building, and on top of it, or in arches near the top, several fires are built as needed, one for each dish to be prepared. There is no chimney; the smoke not absorbed by the food, escapes through the doors. The servants are numerous, and each has his separate sphere. There is no "maid of all work" in the East. Every person has his "boy," who hovers about him in all his waking hours, and cares for him much as a nurse for a child. The boy is called for every trivial service, and I have heard the master shout repeatedly for the "suppada," as servants are called, and when he came running breathless from the rear of the house, he was ordered to move a chair that stood a few yards off, in order that the luxurious master could put his feet on it.