Among its other advantages, Singapore numbers the possession of a multiplicity of hotels.  There is stately Raffles, where the globe-trotters do mostly take up their abode, also the Hotel de l’Europe, whose virtues I can vouch for; but packed away in another and very different portion of the town, unknown to the wealthy G.T., and indeed known to only a few of the white inhabitants of Singapore itself, there exists a small hostelry owned by a lynx-eyed Portuguese, which rejoices in the name of the Hotel of the Three Desires.  Now, every man, who by mischance or deliberate intent, has entered its doors, has his own notions of the meaning of its name; the fact, however, remains that it is there, and that it is regularly patronized by individuals of a certain or uncertain class, as they pass to and fro through the Gateway of the Further East.  This in itself is strange, inasmuch as it is said that the proprietor rakes in the dollars by selling liquor that is as bad as it can possibly be, in order that he may get back to Lisbon before he receives that threatened knife-thrust between the ribs which has been promised him so long.  There are times, as I am unfortunately able to testify, when the latter possibility is not so remote as might be expected.  Taken altogether, however, the Hotel of the Three Desires is an excellent place to take up one’s abode, provided one is not desirous of attracting too much attention in the city.  As a matter of fact its patrons, for some reason of their own, are more en evidence after nightfall than during the hours of daylight.  They are also frugal of speech as a rule, and are chary of forming new acquaintances.  When they know each other well, however, it is surprising how affable they can become.  It is not the smallest of their many peculiarities that they seldom refer to absent friends by their names.  A will ask B when he expects to hear from Him, and C will inform D that “the old man is now running the show, and that, if he doesn’t jump from Calcutta inside a week, there will be trouble on the floor.”  Meanwhile the landlord mixes the drinks with his own dirty hands, and reflects continually upon the villainy of a certain American third mate, who having borrowed five dollars from him, was sufficiently ungrateful as to catch typhoid fever and die without either repaying the loan, or, what was worse, settling his account for the board and lodging received.  Manuel, for this was the proprietor’s name, had one or two recollections of a similar sort, but not many, for, as a rule, he is a careful fellow, and experience having taught him the manners and idiosyncrasies of his customers, he generally managed to emerge from his transactions with credit to himself, and what was of much more importance, a balance on the right side of his ledger.