The Rajah spent much of his time during the remaining years of his life at Burrator, and became as popular and as beloved among the small farmers and cottagers as ever he had been in the Far East during the height of his prosperity. He often took me to visit these rough but kindly people, and it was a pleasure to see how they all greeted him. I particularly noticed how the children would run out of the cottages to touch his hand, as if his gentle smile fascinated them. He did all he could for the parish, helped to restore the ruined church, and, in 1865, was cheered by the arrival of a clergyman and his wife, Mr and Mrs Dakyn, who remained his kind and tender friends to the day of his death. In the autumn of 1866 he received a severe shock. His nephew wrote that he had sold the steamer _Rainbow_ to pay off a debt due to their Singapore agent—a debt incurred through careless extravagance in carrying out too many public works at a time. For a moment it almost stupefied him, as this steamer had not yet been paid for. We soon proved to him, however, that there was but little cause for uneasiness, as the Sarawak revenue was ample to meet all disbursements, if more care were exercised in the expenditure on public works. But Sarawak without a steamer, he felt assured, would sink back into its old state of insecurity, and therefore a steamer must be had. By great exertion he succeeded in raising the necessary funds, and purchased a vessel which was christened the _Royalist_, after his famous yacht. I stayed with the Rajah at Burrator during the autumn of 1866, and he appeared very much stronger. He took his daily rides and walks, but he was full of anxiety about Sarawak, which continued until the steamer was secured. When we were alone we would take our afternoon ride and then return to tea, and between that meal and dinner he enjoyed his reading. He liked to have someone with him, and every now and then would put down his book and talk of any question that was then interesting him. After a while he would resume his reading and we would both remain quiet for a time. I never knew anyone who understood better what has been called ‘the luxury of silence.’