Singapore is built on an island which adjoins the extreme end of the Malay Peninsula. It is about sixty miles from the equator, and it has a climate that varies only a few degrees from seventy during the entire year. This heat would not be debilitating were it not for the extreme humidity of the atmosphere. To a stranger, especially if he comes from the Pacific Coast, the place seems like a Turkish bath. The slightest physical exertion makes the perspiration stand out in beads on the face.
Singapore has a population of over three hundred thousand people; it has a great commercial business, which is growing every year; it already has the largest dry dock in the world. Its bund is not so imposing as that of Hongkong, but it has more public squares and its government buildings are far more handsome. As Hongkong owes much of its splendid architecture and its air of stability to Sir Paul Chator, so Singapore owes its spacious avenues, its fine buildings, its many parks, its interesting museum and its famous botanical gardens to Sir Stamford Raffles, one of the British empire-builders who have left indelibly impressed on the Orient their genius for founding cities and constructing great public enterprises. Yet, Singapore, with far more business than Manila, is destitute of a proper sewer system, and the streets in its native quarters reek with foul odors.
The feature of Singapore that first impresses the stranger is the variety of races seen in any of the streets, and this continues to impress him so long as he remains in the city. My stay in Singapore was four days, due to the fact that it was necessary to wait here for the departure of the British West India Company's steamer for Rangoon and Calcutta. In jinrikishas and pony carts I saw all quarters of the town, and my wonder grew every day at the remarkable show of costumes presented by the different races. One day, late in the afternoon, I sat down on a coping of the wall that surrounds a pretty park on Orchard road, and in the space of a half hour watched the moving show that passed by. At this hour all Singapore takes its outing to the Botanical Gardens, and one may study the people who have leisure and money.
The favorite rig is still the victoria drawn by high-stepping horses, with coachman and postilion, but the automobile is evidently making rapid strides in popular favor, despite the fact that the heavy, humid air makes the odor of gasoline cling to the roadway. A high-class Arab, with his keen, intellectual face, rides by with a bright Malay driving the machine. Then comes a fat and prosperous-looking Parsee in his carriage, followed by a rich Chinese merchant arrayed in spotless white, seated in a motor car, his family about him, and some relative or servant at the wheel. Along moves a rickshaw with an East Indian woman, the sun flashing on the heavy gold rings in her ears, while a carriage follows with a pretty blonde girl with golden hair, seated beside her Chinese ayah, or nurse. A score of young Britons come next in rickshaws, some carrying tennis racquets, and others reading books or the afternoon paper. The rickshaws here, unlike those of Japan or China, carry two people. They are pulled by husky Chinese coolies, who have as remarkable development of the leg muscles as their Japanese brothers, with far better chests. In fact, the average Chinese rickshaw coolie of Singapore is a fine physical type, and he will draw for hours with little show of suffering a rickshaw containing two people. The pony cart of Singapore is another unique institution. It is a four-wheeled cart, seating four people, drawn by a pony no larger than the average Shetland. The driver sits on a little box in front, and at the end of the wagon is a basket in which rests the pony's allowance of green grass for the day. The pony cart is popular with parties of three or four and, as most of Singapore's streets are level, the burden on the animal is not severe.