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Rh ican consul; we had other affairs, and were bound for Boro Boedor. He waved the United States passports aside, curtly said they were of "no account," examined the letters of credit with a shade more of interest, and gave his whole attention to my "Smithsonian passport," or general letter "to all friends of science." That beautifully written document, with its measured phrases, many polysyllabic words in capital letters, and the big gold seal of Saint-Gaudens's designing, worked a spell; and after slowly reading all the commendatory sentences of that great American institution "for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men," he read it again:

"Hum-m-m! Hum-m-m! The Smithsonian Institution of Washington—National Geographic Society—scientific observation and study—anthropology—photography G. Brown Goode, acting secretary! Ah, ladies, since you have such credentials as this,"—evidently the Smithsonian Institution has better standing abroad than the Department of State, and G. Brown Goode, acting secretary of the one, was a better name to conjure with away from home than Walter Q. Gresham, actual secretary of the other, "since you come so highly commended to us, I will allow you to proceed to Boro Boedor, and remain there while I report to Buitenzorg and ask for instructions. You will go to Boro Boedor as early as possible in the morning," he commanded, and then asked, "How long had you intended to remain there?"

"That depends. If it is comfortable, and the rains keep off, we may stay several days. If not, we return to-morrow evening."