In January, 1917, we found ourselves at Singapore, a British dependency, situated at the end of the Malay Peninsula, and one of the greatest seaports of the Orient. We were stopping at the Hotel de l'Europe, a large and first class hotel. The first morning at breakfast, the waiter stood beside us, waiting for our order. He was a handsome young Malay, dressed in white linen clothes, and wearing a green jade bracelet on one wrist. We gave him our order and he did not move off. He continued to stand quietly beside our chairs, as in a trance. We repeated the order--one tea, one coffee, two papayas. He continued to stand still beside us, stupidly. Finally he went away. We waited for a long time and nothing happened. At last, after a long wait, he returned and set before us a teapot filled with hot water. Nothing else. We repeated again--tea, coffee, papayas. We said it two or three times. Then he went away and came back with some tea. We repeated again, coffee and fruit. Eventually he brought us some coffee. Finally, after many endeavors, we got the fruit. It all took a long time. We then began to realize that something was the matter with him. He could understand English well enough to know what orders we were giving him, but he seemed to forget as soon as he left our sight. We then realized that he was probably drugged. It was the same thing every day. In the morning he was stupid and dull, and could not remember what we told him. By evening his brain was clearer, and at dinner he could remember well enough. The effects of whatever he had been taking had apparently worn off during the day. We learned that the opium trade was freely indulged in, at Singapore, fostered by the Government. Singapore is a large city of about 300,000 inhabitants, a great number of which are Chinese. It has wide, beautiful streets, fine government buildings, magnificent quays and docks--a splendid European city at the outposts of the Orient. We found that a large part of its revenue is derived from the opium traffic--from the sale of opium, and from license fees derived from shops where opium may be purchased, or from divans where it may be smoked. The customers are mainly Chinese. I wanted to visit these Government-licensed opium shops and opium dens. A friend lent me two servants, as guides. We three got into rickshaws and went down to the Chinese quarter, where there are several hundred of these places, all doing a flourishing business. It was early in the afternoon, but even then, trade was brisk. The divans were rooms with wide wooden benches running round the sides, on which benches, in pairs, sharing a lamp between them, lay the smokers. They purchased their opium on entering, and then lay down to smoke it. The packages are little, triangular packets, each containing enough for about six smokes. Each packet bears a label, red letters on a white ground, "Monopoly Opium."