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Rising's gardener for such he was brought us to the house. We now saw that though originally a fine mansion it was sadly decayed. The walls should have been white, but excessive heat had cracked and blistered them, and turned everything to a yellowish hue. The Indian brought us inside, and into a long, low-ceilinged room with a great window opening on to the river.
Rising's sad condition was brought about by the drug called opium, a staple of this country, the magical properties of which herb seemed to me then of a piece with the frightful sorceries and dark secret practices of the people, as I afterwards came to know them, and which, with their abominable idolatrous superstitions, used often to make me wonder that the Almighty did not destroy them with His plagues of fire and brimstone, like those wicked Cities of the Plain.
Marian and I were put ashore in the ship's gig, having first bid adieu to the officers, and set about inquiring the way to Mr. Rising's house. In this at first we were unsuccessful, but at last I found an obliging person on the quay who directed his native servant to guide us to it.
Holwell, Mr. Byng, and other prudent persons. On the evening of the day on which I heard this news, therefore, I went round to Mr. Rising's house, to speak with Marian about her situation. It was not quite dusk when I arrived, being the month of April.
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