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1. (Pages 83 and 317.)

THE SWORD OF INDRA

weapon, which is still preserved in a shrine in the royal enclosure of the King of Kambodia, is said to have been presented to the first Khmer monarch of Angkor by the Thunder God himself. The wardens who serve in the sanctuary in which the Sword is kept, and who alone are suffered to touch the sacred weapon, are Brahmans—the last survivors of the race that once ruled over the Khmer empire. They live at the charges and under the protection of the King of Kambodia, who, in common with all his subjects, is a Buddhist. Only some six or eight inches of the blade, near the hilt, are exposed to the view of visitors to the little shrine; and the Sword, in which the mystic Spirit of the Land is popularly supposed to abide, is the object of immense veneration to all the natives of the country, who come from far and wide to make pilgrimage to it. So far as it was possible to form an opinion from the glimpse which was vouchsafed, the Sword was judged by the author to be very ancient. It appeared to be fashioned, not of steel, but of iron, and the elaborate carvings and the gold waterings which ornament its surface suggest Indian workmanship. The magnificent scabbard of carved gold is, on the other hand, certainly the work of an Indo-Chinese, probably of a Kambodian goldsmith.

A similar sword is worshipped as a god by the semi-savage hill-folk somewhere in the Hinterland of Annam; and to this, too, pious pilgrimage is made by the Buddhists of Kambodia. These journeys are


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 attended by some risk; for if any unfortunate event occurs after the sword has been visited by strangers, the hill-men attribute it forthwith to the anger of their god, and hasten to avenge him upon the pilgrims who are supposed to have occasioned his wrath.

2. (Page 111.)

THE WOMEN OF THE TEMPLE

Those who are curious on this subject may be referred to Mr Frazer's great book, Adonis, Attis, and Osiris: Studies in Oriental Religion (Macmillan and Co., 1907). The belief in which religious prostitu- tion had its origin was that the land was rendered fruitful through the fertilisation of women by the gods. These latter were represented by the priests of the temple, or in some instances by strangers; but the favours of the temple women were always denied to the laymen living in the vicinity of their abodes. Religious prostitution is still practised, notably in some of the Hindu temples of southern India.

3. (Pages 119 and 319.)

COSTUMES AND DANCES OF THE TEMPLE WOMEN

The dances and costumes here described are to be seen to this day in the palace of the King of Kambodia at Phnom Penh, both being made use of in the dramatic representations which take place on state occasions. They are of considerable archeological interest, and are obviously a perpetuation of a tradition which coexisted with the designing and execution of the bas-reliefs and many of the sculptures of Angkor.

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 4 (Page 123.)

THE LEPROUS KING

There is a tradition, which is believed to be histori- cally correct, that a king who was a leper ruled over Angkor. An image, which represents a sedent and almost nude figure, stands to-day in what must once have been the royal enclosure of the Palace at Angkor Thom, and this, for no very sufficient reason, has been described by some savants as an effigy of the leprous king. An examination of this image led the author to the conclusion that it was a comparatively recent piece of work, and that its character is Buddhistic rather than Hindu. It is devoid of artistic merit or interest, and it compares most unfavourably with the work of the Khmer sculptors.

5. (Page 152.)

THE THAI

Thai is the name by which the Siamese call them- selves to this day, and it is by this name that they are known in Indo-China. It is an historical fact that the Khmer empire, at the moment of its decline, was attacked and defeated by the Siamese. The subsequent history of Kambodia is a record of warfare between the Siamese and the Kambodians, in which the former were usually successful. It was in order to escape from Siamese aggression that Norodom, the Kambodian king, threw himself and his country into the arms of France; but until the treaty of 1902 was concluded, by which Siamreap and Batambang were exchanged by Siam for Chantabun, Angkor continued to be accounted a Siamese province.

6. (Page 153.)

THE CHINESE EMBASSY

The Embassy of which mention is here made was ordered, in 1295, to proceed to the kingdom of Chin-Lá,


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Rh wife went out to draw water, and she got mixed up in it. Gabriel's wife rushed out; she began to abuse her neighbour. She told her the plain truth, and she wove into her speech what was not truth at all. They fell a-screeching. They all shrieked together; they tried to speak two different things at the same time. And their words grew worse and worse.

"If I'm this, you're that."

"You're a thief! you're a slut! … you're no good at all."

"And you are a beggar; you borrowed my sieve and spoilt it. Even the pump-handle you've got is ours; give us back our pump-handle."

They seized hold of the pump-handle, spilt all the water, wet their clothes, and fell a-fighting. Gabriel came in from the field, and took the part of his old woman. Ivan rushed out with his son: there was now a whole heap of them. Ivan was a strong and vigorous muzhik—he scattered the lot of them. Gabriel had a bit of his beard torn out. A crowd came together and separated them by force.

That was the beginning of it. Gabriel wrapped his bit of beard in a piece of paper, and went to bring an action in the local court.

"I do not let my beard grow in order that that freckled Van'ka may pull it out," said he.

And his wife boasted to the neighbours that he was going to bring his action against Ivan, who would be sent to Siberia. And so the quarrel went on.

From the very first day the old man exhorted them

143


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 the name by which the Khmer empire was then known to the Chinese. The ambassador, whose name is unknown, but who has left a record of his journey and experiences, started from Ming-Cheu in the second month of the following year; travelled thence to the port of Wen- Chu; whence he put to sea on the twentieth day of the same month. On the fifteenth day of the third month —viz., twenty-five days later—he arrived off the coast of Cochin-China; but he relates that he did not succeed in reaching his destination until the seventh moon, owing to the contrary winds which he encountered. He returned to China in 1297, again travelling by sea. A translation of his journal is to be found in M. Abel Rémusat's Noveaux Mélanges Asiatiques. At the time of his visit, Angkor was a flourishing city, the capital of a great empire, and the temple of Angkor Wat was still under construction. When the place was next visited by a traveller who has left a record behind him, it was what it is to-day—a vast collection of temples, long deserted, and overgrown by vegetation; yet this was after the lapse of less than three centuries, in 1570. The account is to be found in a book published by Christoval de Jaque, a Portuguese traveller, who published his work in 1606. He mentions the fact that even in 1570 the inscriptions at Angkor (which are written variously, either in Sanskrit characters, or in Sanskrit words trans- literated into Kambodian character) were unintelligible to the natives, thus showing how completely the learning of the Brahmans had been lost. He also mentions that the natives of the country feared to approach the temples, and ascribed their construction to demons and giants.

7. (Page 230.)

THE EXODUS OF THE BATS

The spectacle here described was witnessed by the author many times during December 1908, and even the efforts which the French Government are making to reduce the numbers of the bats which infest the temples


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 at Angkor are attended with only partial success. It is certain that no similar attempts were made in the time of the Brahmans, since Hindus are averse from the avoidable destruction of animal life; wherefore it may be surmised that the bats inhabited the buildings in vast numbers even before they were abandoned.

8. (Pages 237 and 238.)

THE HERESY OF THE SNAKE

The existence of this belief among the Khmer people is an historical fact. The following mention of it is made in the account of Angkor, written by the Chinese ambassador, to whom reference has been made in Note 6:—

"Several natives of distinguished rank have told me that formerly there used to be a fairy in that tower in the form of a dragon with nine heads, who was the protectress of the kingdom; that under the reign of each king of the country the fairy assumed every night the form of a woman, and sought the king in the tower; and even though he were married, the queen, his wife, dared not intrude before a certain hour; but, at a signal of two strokes, the fairy vanished, and the king was then able to receive his queen and his other wives; if the fairy allowed a single night to pass without appearing, it was a sign that the death of the king was near at hand; if, on his side, the king failed to meet her, it was certain that a fire or some other calamity would occur."

It is probable that the Chinese envoy was mistaken as to the number of the dragons' heads. They should be seven, not nine.


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 9. (Page 238.)

THE SYMBOL OF THE SNAKE IN HINDU MYTHOLOGY

The author is indebted to his friend, the Hon. Mr P. Arunachalam, of the Ceylon Civil Service, for the explanation, and almost for the words here put into the mouth of Baguan Dass.

10. (Page 309.)

The sunset effect here described is not due to any effort of the imagination. It was witnessed by the author on more than one occasion during his stay at Angkor.

11. (Page 337.)

The clown in the Kambodian dance, witnessed by the author in the palace of the King of Kambodia, wears a caricature of the head-dress of the Brahmans, and is the object of the insults of the other players and of the derision of the spectators. He is called Bram, a con- traction of Brahman, a word which reappears in Malay as Pran, the term applied to the clown in the dramatic representations called Ma'yong, which are clearly derived from the Kambodian dance.

12. (Page 337.)

The natives of Kambodia, and indeed of all Indo- China, are to-day Buddhists to a man, if the wild tribes of the Hinterland and the hills be excepted. Their con- version to Buddhism is believed to have been wrought by the Siamese; and here, as elsewhere, it is to be regarded in its popular forms less as a separate religion than as a purified and reformed Hinduism.


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Tales from Tolstoi to peace from the top of the stove, but the young people did not listen to him. This was what he said:

"Children, ye do foolishly, and foolishness will come of it. Bethink you now; the whole matter about which ye make such a to-do turns upon—an egg! The children have taken the egg, much good may it do them! An egg—'tis a sorry prize! God has enough for all. She spoke vile words to thee! Correct her, then; teach her to speak better! But ye have squabbled—sinful folks! Let it go no further. Go and beg pardon; put a cover over it all. But an' ye go evil ways—'twill be worse for you."

The young people did not listen to the old man; they thought that all the old man said did not meet the case in point, and was only grandfatherly twaddle.

Ivan did not humble himself before his neighbour.

"I didn't pull out his beard," said he; "he tugged it out himself, and he tore off my shirt-button, and tore my shirt right down. That's how it is."

And so Ivan went to law. They went to law about it in the local court, and in the district court too. And while these suits were pending, Gabriel lost the pole-bolt of his wagon, and Gabriel's women-kind falsely accused Ivan's son of taking it.

"We saw him," said they, "going at night past the window to the wagon, and Gossip So-and-so says that he went to the pot-house, and gave the innkeeper the pole-bolt for drink."

So again they went to law; and at home there was wrangling and squabbling all day long.

And the children squabbled too—they had learnt it from their elders; and the women who met together 144


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 IN DAYS THAT ARE DEAD. A Volume of Stories.

MALAYAN MONOCHROMES. A Volume of Stories.

THE GOLD COAST REGIMENT IN THE EAST AFRICAN CAMPAIGN.

HEROES OF EXILE. Being Certain Rescued Fragments of Submerged Romance.


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By HUGH CLIFFORD, G.C.M.G., G.B.E.

LONDON

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.


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 First Printed April, 1911

Reprinted May, 1911

Reprinted March, 1928


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 TO

THIS, THE FIRST BOOK THAT I HAVE WRITTEN, IS INSCRIBED.

This is my Lady's praise: God, after many days, Wrought her in unknown ways In sunset lands; This was my Lady's birth: God gave her might and mirth, And laid His whole sweet earth Between her hands. .


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158 who is worthy the name of a man would subscribe to doctrines which destroy all honour and all chivalry. The heroes of old time won their immortality not by weighing pleasures and pains in the balance, but by being prodigal of their lives, doing and enduring all things for the sake of their fellow-men.

The opening scene in the third book is as lively and dramatic as (what was no doubt the writer's model) the introduction of a Platonic dialogue. Cicero has walked across from his Tusculan villa to borrow some manuscripts from the well-stocked library of his young friend Lucullus —a youth whose high promise was sadly cut short, for he was killed at Philippi, when he was not more than twenty-three. There, "gorging himself with books," Cicero finds Marcus Cato—a Stoic of the Stoics—who expounds in a high tone the principles of his sect.

Honour he declares to be the rule, and "life according to nature" the end of man's existence. And wrong and injustice are more really contrary to this nature than either death, or poverty, or bodily suffering, or any other outward evil." Stoics and Peripatetics are agreed at least on one point—that bodily pleasures fade into nothing before the splendours of virtue, and that to compare the two is like holding a candle against the sunlight, or setting a drop of

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I was at Phnom Penh, the capital of modern Kambodia, the which is a Protectorate of France, ruled by a French Resident, in the name of its aged king. I had just quitted Angkor, after many days passed among its temples, and the spell of its magic was still upon me. Yonder, up the dismal river which flows from the Great Lake, behind the thick curtain of almost deserted forest, I had dwelt in a solitude, hardly broken, amid things ancient and wonderful. Here, in a place one half of which is a modern French town, I was jarred by the incongruity which results from grafting on to the gnarled trunk of Asia, the rank products of latter-day Europe. I sought loneliness and peace. I wanted to think, to meditate upon all that I had seen at Angkor, and upon all that I had learned of its tragic history. I wanted to get once more into tune with the Asia of olden days, away from the noise inseparable from its


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Rh brine against the waves of the ocean. Your Epicurean would have each man live in selfish isolation, engrossed in his private pleasures and pursuits. We, on the other hand, maintain that "Divine Providence has appointed the world to be a common city for men and gods," and each one of us to be a part of this vast social system. And thus every man has his lot and place in life, and should take for his guidance those golden rules of ancient times—"Obey God; know thyself; shun excess." Then, rising to enthusiasm, the philosopher concludes: "Who cannot but admire the incredible beauty of such a system of morality? What character in history or in fiction can be grander or more consistent than the 'wise man' of the Stoics? All the riches and glory of the world are his, for he alone can make a right use of all things. He is 'free,' though he be bound by chains; 'rich,' though in the midst of poverty; 'beautiful,' for the mind is fairer than the body; 'a king,' for, unlike the tyrants of the world, he is lord of himself; 'happy,' for he has no need of Solon's warning to 'wait till the end,' since a life virtuously spent is a perpetual happiness."

In the fourth book, Cicero himself proceeds to vindicate the wisdom of the ancients—the old Academic school of Socrates and his pupils—against what he considers the novelties of Stoicism. All that the Stoics have said has been said a hundred times before by Plato and Aristotle, but in nobler language. They merely "pick out the thorns" and "lay bare the bones" of previous systems, using newfangled terms and misty arguments with a "vainglorious parade." Their fine

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 invasion by the West; and thus I came, at the close of day, to the foot of the stairway that leads up the face of the Phnom, to the pagoda which crowns it.

To the north, south and west, and east, across the waters of the Mekong, the country lay spread out in an endless flat, clothed by the dingy greens and blues and blacks of its vegetation; but immediately around the Phnom were the lawns and shrubberies of the trim public gardens, set with iron cages, in which were pent a few leopards and many woebegone wildfowl.

And to me, these things—the pagoda, the wild creatures of the forest, the aged king yonder in his palace, the neat gardens, the cages, the sentry-guarded French Residency on the river's brink—were symbols—symbols of the Great Captivity.

Immediately before me, a long flight of brick steps ran upward between twin balustrades, fashioned in the likeness of the seven-headed cobra of the Brahmans. The rounded bodies of these monsters formed the balustrades themselves; the seven up-reared heads, fanning out into a single menacing cobra-hood, rose one on each side of the stairway's base; the pointed tails writhed into the air, against the sky, high above me.


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 At the top of the stairway, plots of smooth grass surrounded the sacred places, and tipped abruptly down steep banks into masses of clustering bushes. By these the detestable, immaculate gardens were mercifully hidden.

Here, in awful, veiled seclusion, dwelt the most ancient of the gods of the East.

In the foreground rose the pagoda, brilliant with gold-leaf and many coloured tiles, its roof ornamented by long, branching, outward-curving horns, touched by the rays of the sunset and striking a note of gaiety, blithe and joyous. Behind it—the immense, solid base almost in contact with its threshold—stood the great dagoba, a ponderous mass of grey stone and rust-coloured lichen, tapering to a tall and delicate spire, that led the eye up and up, and the heart heavenward. It, too, struck its individual note sombre, awful, and austere.

It was as though the pagoda and dagoba in combination were designed to offer to the Gods all the joys and all the sorrows that fill or oppress the heart of man.

The head of the stairway, the plinth of the dagoba, and each angle of its base were guarded by alternate giants and lions, carved massively in stone, those about the obelisk rising one above the other in outstanding tiers. The giants were


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 monsters with sinister faces, stout of trunk and limb, reposing big, folded hands on the grips of grounded pollard-clubs. The lions were the heraldic lions of Asia, posturing in ungainly fashion, with out-thrust buttocks, bodies wonderfully foreshortened, the legs of a jibbing horse, and uplifted, ferocious heads. Yet, in some subtle way, the very grotesqueness of these distorted effigies of man and beast—grim, motionless, impassive—enhanced the dignity and the solemnity of this refuge of the ancient gods.

In the west, over the flat, half-submerged country, visible above the dense shrubberies, the day was dying in a wonderful blaze of colour; the heavens above-invaded in many directions by great waves of crimson—displaying a purity of azure, in startling contrast to the vivid green streaks, inset about the furnace-mouth of the horizon. In the east, across the dull red flood of the river, a moon near the full was rising from a bed of rosy cloud-fleece, its orb delicately tinted by the reflected glow of sunset.

Between sun and moon was uplifted the dark and shadowy pyramid of the dagoba, with its grim wardens dimly seen.

A big, black lizard thrust its diamond-shaped head forth from a cranny between two huge stones, and scarred the stillness with its loud,


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 discordant outcry. Then again a great hush fell.

I had found that for which I had been seeking. This was the East—the real East, mysterious and very ancient-waiting with her immense and measureless patience to catch the awful whisper that shall reveal the secrets of life and birth and death. For she is ever expectant—the East; never weary, never faithless, waiting—waiting always—for the whisper that does not come.

The sadness of the last hour of day—perhaps the saddest thing in all the immeasurable sadness of the East—brooded over the darkening land like some vast, menacing shadow.

The earth, faint with spent energies, drowsed and dreamed amid the soft glamour of the twilight, wrapped about by airs heavy and wearın, velvet-soft and fragrant.

Yet the stillness of that quiet place was like an anxious heart-beat.

And here, alone in this ancient sanctuary, watching the dying day, I pieced together from the fragmentary knowledge, which the research of others had furnished to me, this story of the Downfall of the Gods.

My gropings and searchings among the scattered wreckage of a once mighty civilisation, my sojourn amid the deserted temples of a once great people's


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 worship, had set me dreaming of the Past; forced my imagination to fearful probings of the Future; for these things told, in silent, grim mockery, of the changing, unchanging fate of gods and empires.


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Hanging indents
Why are these sections given hanging indents when the original didn't have that ? -- Beardo (talk) 23:56, 2 March 2024 (UTC)

 * Don't ask me, ask whoever devised the template. Chrisguise (talk) 07:26, 4 March 2024 (UTC)


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Rh :: plan (other than land, water, or an interest in land or water acquired from the United States for less than fair market value), but not including incidental costs relating to acquisition.
 * (B) —When a State provides that the owner of a single-family residence may, at the owner’s option, elect to retain a right of use and occupancy for not less than 6 months after the date of acquisition of the residence and the owner elects to retain such a right—
 * (i) the owner shall be deemed to have waived any benefits under sections 203 to 206 of the Uniform Relocation Assistance and Real Property Acquisition Policies Act of 1970 (42 U.S.C. 4623 to 4626); and
 * (ii) for the purposes of those sections the owner shall not be deemed to be a displaced person as defined in section 101 of that Act (42 U.S.C. 4601).
 * (3) —Under paragraph (1), the Secretary may provide financial assistance for a project for development of basic outdoor recreation facilities to serve the general public, including the development of Federal land under lease to States for terms of 25 years or more. No assistance shall be available under this chapter to enclose or shelter a facility normally used for an outdoor recreation activity, but the Secretary may permit local funding, not to exceed 10 percent of the total amount allocated to a State in any one year, to be used for construction of a sheltered facility for a swimming pool or ice skating rink in an area where the Secretary determines that the construction is justified by the severity of climatic conditions and the increased public use made possible by the construction.

(f) —
 * (1) —The Secretary may make a payment to a State only for a planning, acquisition, or development project that is approved by the Secretary. The Secretary shall not make a payment for or on account of any project with respect to which financial assistance has been given or promised under any other Federal program or activity, and no financial assistance shall be given under any other Federal program or activity for or on account of any project with respect to which the assistance has been given or promised under this chapter. The Secretary may make payments from time to time in keeping with the rate of progress toward the satisfactory completion of a project. The approval of all projects and all payments, or any commitments relating thereto, shall be withheld until the Secretary receives appropriate written assurance from the State that the State has the ability and intention to finance its share of the cost of all of the projects, and to operate and maintain by acceptable standards, at State expense, the properties or facilities acquired or developed for public outdoor recreation use.
 * (2) —Payments for all projects shall be made by the Secretary to the chief executive official of the State or to a State official or agency designated by the chief executive official or by State law having authority and responsibility to accept and to administer funds paid under this section for approved projects. If consistent with an


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128 STAT. 3176 : approved project, funds may be transferred by the State to a political subdivision or other appropriate public agency.
 * (3) —No property acquired or developed with assistance under this section shall, without the approval of the Secretary, be converted to other than public outdoor recreation use. The Secretary shall approve a conversion only if the Secretary finds it to be in accordance with the then-existing comprehensive statewide outdoor recreation plan and only on such conditions as the Secretary considers necessary to ensure the substitution of other recreation properties of at least equal fair market value and of reasonably equivalent usefulness and location. Wetland areas and interests therein as identified in the wetlands provisions of the comprehensive plan and proposed to be acquired as suitable replacement property within the same State that is otherwise acceptable to the Secretary, acting through the Director, shall be deemed to be of reasonably equivalent usefulness with the property proposed for conversion.
 * (4) —No payment shall be made to any State until the State has agreed to—
 * (A) provide such reports to the Secretary in such form and containing such information as may be reasonably necessary to enable the Secretary to perform the Secretary’s duties under this chapter; and
 * (B) provide such fiscal control and fund accounting procedures as may be necessary to ensure proper disbursement and accounting for Federal funds paid to the State under this chapter.

(g) —A recipient of assistance under this chapter shall keep such records as the Secretary shall prescribe, including records that fully disclose—
 * (1) the amount and the disposition by the recipient of the proceeds of the assistance;
 * (2) the total cost of the project or undertaking in connection with which the assistance is given or used; and
 * (3) the amount and nature of that portion of the cost of the project or undertaking supplied by other sources, and such other records as will facilitate an effective audit.

(h) —The Secretary, and the Comptroller General, or any of their duly authorized representatives, shall have access for the purpose of audit and examination to any records of the recipient that are pertinent to assistance received under this chapter.

(i) —With respect to property acquired or developed with assistance from the Fund, discrimination on the basis of residence, including preferential reservation or membership systems, is prohibited except to the extent that reasonable differences in admission and other fees may be maintained on the basis of residence.

(j) —To ensure consistency in policies and actions under this chapter with other related Federal programs and activities and to ensure coordination of the planning, acquisition, and development assistance to States under this section with other related Federal programs and activities—
 * (1) the President may issue such regulations with respect thereto as the President considers desirable; and


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most other men I have from time to time been stricken with a desire to make collections of things.

It began with postage stamps. I had a letter from a friend of mine who had gone out to South Africa. The letter had a three-cornered stamp on it, and I thought as soon as I looked at it, "That's the thing! Stamp collecting! I'll devote my life to it."

I bought an album with accommodation for the stamps of all nations, and began collecting right off. For three days the collection made wonderful progress. It contained:

One Cape of Good Hope stamp.

One one-cent stamp, United States of America.

One two-cent stamp, United States of America.

One five-cent stamp, United States of America.

One ten-cent stamp, United States of America.

After that the collection came to a dead


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  stop. For a while I used to talk about it rather airily and say I had one or two rather valuable South African stamps. But I presently grew tired even of lying about it.

Collecting coins is a thing that I attempt at intervals. Every time I am given an old half-penny or a Mexican quarter, I get an idea that if a fellow made a point of holding on to rarities of that sort, he'd soon have quite a valuable collection. The first time that I tried it I was full of enthusiasm, and before long my collection numbered quite a few articles of vertu. The items were as follows:

No. 1. Ancient Roman coin. Time of Caligula. This one of course was the gem of the whole lot; it was given me by a friend, and that was what started me collecting.

No. 2. Small copper coin. Value one cent. United States of America. Apparently modern.

No. 3. Small nickel coin. Circular. United States of America. Value five cents.

No. 4. Small silver coin. Value ten cents. United States of America.

No. 5. Silver coin. Circular. Value twenty-five cents. United States of America. Very beautiful.

No. 6. Large silver coin. Circular. In-


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Language
Was the original in English ? Or is this a translation ? -- Beardo (talk) 00:04, 3 March 2024 (UTC)


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  scription, "One Dollar." United States of America. Very valuable.

No. 7. Ancient British copper coin. Probably time of Caractacus. Very dim. Inscription, "Victoria Dei gratia regina." Very valuable.

No. 8. Silver coin. Evidently French. Inscription, "Fünf Mark. Kaiser Wilhelm."

No. 9. Circular silver coin. Very much defaced. Part of inscription, "E Pluribus Unum." Probably a Russian rouble, but quite as likely to be a Japanese yen or a Shanghai rooster.

That's as far as that collection got. It lasted through most of the winter and I was getting quite proud of it, but I took the coins down town one evening to show to a friend and we spent No. 3, No. 4, No. 5, No. 6, and No. 7 in buying a little dinner for two. After dinner I bought a yen's worth of cigars and traded the relic of Caligula for as many hot Scotches as they cared to advance on it. After that I felt reckless and put No. 2 and No. 8 into a Children's Hospital poor box.

I tried fossils next. I got two in ten years. Then I quit.

A friend of mine once showed me a very


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  fine collection of ancient and curious weapons, and for a time I was full of that idea. I gathered several interesting specimens, such as:

No. 1. Old flint-lock musket, used by my grandfather. (He used it on the farm for years as a crowbar.)

No. 2. Old raw-hide strap, used by my father.

No. 3. Ancient Indian arrowhead, found by myself the very day after I began collecting. It resembles a three-cornered stone.

No. 4. Ancient Indian bow, found by myself behind a sawmill on the second day of collecting. It resembles a straight stick of elm or oak. It is interesting to think that this very weapon may have figured in some fierce scene of savage warfare.

No. 5. Cannibal poniard or straight-handled dagger of the South Sea Islands. It will give the reader almost a thrill of horror to learn that this atrocious weapon, which I bought myself on the third day of collecting, was actually exposed in a second-hand store as a family carving-knife. In gazing at it one cannot refrain from conjuring up the awful scenes it must have witnessed.

I kept this collection for quite a long while


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  until, in a moment of infatuation, I presented it to a young lady as a betrothal present. The gift proved too ostentatious and our relations subsequently ceased to be cordial.

On the whole I am inclined to recommend the beginner to confine himself to collecting coins. At present I am myself making a collection of American bills (time of Taft preferred), a pursuit I find most absorbing.


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Rh Pray for me that my feet may gain
 * The sure and safer way.

And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
 * Thy creatures as they be,

Forgive me if too close I lean
 * My human heart on Thee!

Love, forever full,
 * Forever flowing free,

Forever shared, forever whole,
 * A never-ebbing sea!

Our outward lips confess the name
 * All other names above;

Love only knoweth whence it came
 * And comprehendeth love.

Blow, winds of God, awake and blow
 * The mists of earth away!

Shine out, O Light Divine, and show
 * How wide and far we stray!

Hush every lip, close every book,
 * The strife of tongues forbear;

Why forward reach, or backward look,
 * For love that clasps like air?

We may not climb the heavenly steeps
 * To bring the Lord Christ down:

In vain we search the lowest deeps,
 * For Him no depths can drown.

Nor holy bread, nor blood of grape,
 * The lineaments restore

Of Him we know in outward shape
 * And in the flesh no more.

He cometh not a king to reign;
 * The world’s long hope is dim;

The weary centuries watch in vain
 * The clouds of heaven for Him.

Death comes, life goes; the asking eye
 * And ear are answerless;

The grave is dumb, the hollow sky
 * Is sad with silentness.

The letter fails, and systems fall,
 * And every symbol wanes;

The Spirit over-brooding all
 * Eternal Love remains.

And not for signs in heaven above
 * Or earth below they look,

Who know with John His smile of love,
 * With Peter His rebuke.

In joy of inward peace, or sense
 * Of sorrow over sin,


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Rh Bostock—asking whether Mr. Bostock, a man attracted to other men, would have been fired had he been a woman—we don’t just change his sex. Along the way, we change his sexual orientation too (from homosexual to heterosexual). If the aim is to isolate whether a plaintiff’s sex caused the dismissal, the employers stress, we must hold sexual orientation constant—meaning we need to change both his sex and the sex to which he is attracted. So for Mr. Bostock, the question should be whether he would’ve been fired if he were a woman attracted to women. And because his employer would have been as quick to fire a lesbian as it was a gay man, the employers conclude, no Title VII violation has occurred.

While the explanation is new, the mistakes are the same. The employers might be onto something if Title VII only ensured equal treatment between groups of men and women or if the statute applied only when sex is the sole or primary reason for an employer’s challenged adverse employment action. But both of these premises are mistaken. Title VII’s plain terms and our precedents don’t care if an employer treats men and women comparably as groups; an employer who fires both lesbians and gay men equally doesn’t diminish but doubles its liability. Just cast a glance back to Manhart, where it was no defense that the employer sought to equalize pension contributions based on life expectancy. Nor does the statute care if other factors besides sex contribute to an employer’s discharge decision. Mr. Bostock’s employer might have decided to fire him only because of the confluence of two factors, his sex and the sex to which he is attracted. But exactly the same might have been said in Phillips, where motherhood was the added variable.

Still, the employers insist, something seems different here. Unlike certain other employment policies this Court has addressed that harmed only women or only men, the employers’ policies in the cases before us have the same adverse consequences for men and women. How could sex be


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 bankers raking in their gains, while the Malays of all classes gambled and cursed their luck with the noisy slapping of thighs and many references to Allah and to his Prophet—according to whose teaching gaming is an unclean thing. The sight of the play and of the fierce passions which it aroused had awakened many memories in Râja Haji, filling him with desires that made him restless; and though he had refrained from joining in the unholy sport, it was evident that the turban around his head—which his increasing years and his manifold iniquities had driven him to Mecca to seek—was that night irksome to him, since it forbade public indulgence in such forbidden pleasures.

Now as we lay talking, ere sleep came to us, he fell to talking of the old days in Selangor before the coming of the white men.

"Ya, Allah, Tûan," he exclaimed. "I loved those ancient times exceedingly, when all men were shy of Si-Hamid, and none dared face his kris, the 'Chinese Axe.' I never felt the grip of poverty in those days, for my supplies were ever at the tip of my dagger, and very few were found reckless enough to withhold aught that I desired or coveted.

"Did I ever tell you, Tûan, the tale of how the gamblers of Klang yielded up the money of their banks to me without resistance or the spinning of a single dice-box? No? Ah, that was a pleasant tale and a deed which was famous throughout Sělângor, and gave me a very great name.

"It was in this wise. I was in sorry case, for the


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308   Where, as yet unseen of them, Comes the New Jerusalem!

Like the seer of Patmos gazing, On the glory downward blazing; Till upon Earth’s grateful sod Rests the City of our God!

the Stony Mountains, o’er the desert’s drouth and sand, The circles of our empire touch the western ocean’s strand; From slumberous Timpanogos, to Gila, wild and free, Flowing down from Nuevo-Leon to California’s sea; And from the mountains of the east, to Santa Rosa’s shore, The eagles of Mexitli shall beat the air no more.

O Vale of Rio Bravo! Let thy simple children weep; Close watch about their holy fire let maids of Pecos keep;


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Rh Let Taos send her cry across Sierra Madre’s pines, And Santa Barbara toll her bells amidst her corn and vines; For lo! the pale land-seekers come, with eager eyes of gain, Wide scattering, like the bison herds on broad Salada’s plain.

Let Sacramento’s herdsmen heed what sound the winds bring down Of footsteps on the crisping snow, from cold Nevada’s crown! Full hot and fast the Saxon rides, with rein of travel slack, And, bending o’er his saddle, leaves the sunrise at his back; By many a lonely river, and gorge of fir and pine, On many a wintry hill-top, his nightly camp-fires shine.

O countrymen and brothers! that land of lake and plain, Of salt wastes alternating with valleys fat with grain; Of mountains white with winter, looking downward, cold, serene, On their feet with spring-vines tangled and lapped in softest green; Swift through whose black volcanic gates, o’er many a sunny vale, Wind-like the Arapahoe sweeps the bison’s dusty trail!

Great spaces yet untravelled, great lakes whose mystic shores The Saxon rifle never heard, nor dip of Saxon oars; Great herds that wander all unwatched, wild steeds that none have tamed, Strange fish in unknown streams, and birds the Saxon never named; Deep mines, dark mountain crucibles, where Nature’s chemic powers Work out the Great Designer’s will; all these ye say are ours!

Forever ours! for good or ill, on us the burden lies: God’s balance, watched by angels, is hung across the skies. Shall Justice, Truth, and Freedom turn the poised and trembling scale? Or shall the Evil triumph, and robber Wrong prevail? Shall the broad land o’er which our flag in starry splendor waves, Forego through us its freedom, and bear the tread of slaves?

The day is breaking in the East of which the prophets told, And brightens up the sky of Time the Christian Age of Gold; Old Might to Right is yielding, battle blade to clerkly pen, Earth’s monarchs are her peoples, and her serfs stand up as men; The isles rejoice together, in a day are nations born, And the slave walks free in Tunis, and by Stamboul’s Golden Horn!

Is this, O countrymen of mine! a day for us to sow The soil of new-gained empire with slavery’s seeds of woe? To feed with our fresh life-blood the Old World’s cast-off crime, Dropped, like some monstrous early birth, from the tired lap of Time? To run anew the evil race the old lost nations ran, And die like them of unbelief of God, and wrong of man?

Great Heaven! Is this our mission? End in this the prayers and tears, The toil, the strife, the watchings of our younger, better years? Still as the Old World rolls in light, shall ours in shadow turn, A beamless Chaos, cursed of God, through outer darkness borne? Where the far nations looked for light, a blackness in the air? Where for words of hope they listened, the long wail of despair?

The Crisis presses on us; face to face with us it stands, With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx in Egypt’s sands! This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we spin; This day for all hereafter choose we holiness or sin;


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 boats had ceased to ply on the river through fear of me, and my followers were so few that I could not rush a town or even loot a Chinese kong-si house. As for the village people, they were as poor as I, and save for their womenfolk (whom, when I desired them, they had the good sense to surrender to me with docility) I never harassed them.

"Now, upon a certain day, my wives and my people came to me asking for rice, or for money with which to purchase it; but I had naught to give them, only one little dollar remaining to me. It is an accursed thing when the little ones are in want of food, and my liver grew hot within me at the thought. None of the womenfolk dared say a word when they saw that mine eyes waxed red; but the little children wept aloud, and I heard them and was sad. Moreover, I, too, was hungry, for my belly was empty. Wherefore, looking upon my solitary dollar, I called to me one of my men, and bade him go to the Chinese store and buy for me a bottle of the white men's perfume.

"Now when my wife—the mother of my son—heard this order, she cried out in anger: Are you mad, Father of Che' Bûjang, that you throw away your last dollar on perfumes for your lights of love, while Che' Bûjang and his brethren cry for rice?"

"But I slapped her on the mouth and said, 'Be still!' for it is not well for a man to suffer a woman to question the doings of men.

"That evening, when the night had fallen, I put on my fighting-jacket, upon which were inscribed


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 many texts from the Holy Book, my short drawers, such as the Bûgis folk weave; and I bound my kris, the 'Chinese Axe' about my waist, and took in my hand my so famous sword, 'the Rising Sun." Three or four of my young men followed at my heels, and I did not forget to take with me the bottle of the white man's perfume.

"I went straight to the great Klang gaming-house, which at that hour was filled with gamblers; and when I reached the door, I halted for the space of an eye flick, and spilled the scent over my right hand and arm as far as the elbow. Then I rushed in among the gamblers, suddenly and without warning, stepping like a fencer in the war dance, and crying ' Amok! Amok! ' till the coins danced upon the gaming-tables. All the gamblers stayed their hands from the staking, and some seized the hilts of their daggers. Then I cried aloud three times, 'I am Si-Hamid, the Tiger Unbound!'—for by that name did men then call me. 'Get you to your dwellings, and that speedily, and leave your money where it is or I will slay you!"

"Many were terrified, a few laughed, some hesitated, some even scowled at me in naughty fashion, clutching their coins; but none did as I bade them.

"'Pigs and dogs,' I cried. 'Are your ears deaf that you obey me not, or are you sated with living and desire that your shrouds should be made ready? Do instantly my bidding, or I will kill you all, as a kite swoops upon little chickens. What powers do you possess and what are your stratagems that you


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 fancy you can prevail against me? For it is I, Si-Hamid—I, who am invulnerable—I whom the very fire burns, but cannot devour!'

"With that, I thrust my right hand into the flame of a Chinese gaming-lamp, and being saturated with the white man's perfume, it blazed up bravely, even to my elbow, doing me no hurt, while I waved it flaming above my head.

"Verily the white men are very clever, who so cunningly devise the medicine of these perfumes.

"Now, when all the people in the gambling-house saw that my hand and arm were burned with fire, but were not consumed, a great fear fell upon them, and they fled shrieking, no man staying to gather up his silver. This presently I counted and put into sacks, and my youths bore it to my house, and my fame waxed very great in Klang. Men said that henceforth Si-Hamid should be named, not the Tiger Unbound, but the Fiery Rhinoceros. It was long ere the nature of my stratagem became known; and even then no man of all the many who were within the gambling-house at Klang that night had the hardihood or the imprudence to ask me for


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310   Even now from starry Gerizim, or Ebal’s cloudy crown, We call the dews of blessing or the bolts of cursing down!

By all for which the martyrs bore their agony and shame; By all the warning words of truth with which the prophets came; By the Future which awaits us; by all the hopes which cast Their faint and trembling beams across the blackness of the Past; And by the blessed thought of Him who for Earth’s freedom died, O my people! O my brothers! let us choose the righteous side.

So shall the Northern pioneer go joyful on his way; To wed Penobscot’s waters to San Francisco’s bay, To make the rugged places smooth, and sow the vales with grain; And bear, with Liberty and Law, the Bible in his train: The mighty West shall bless the East, and sea shall answer sea, And mountain unto mountain call, Praise God, for we are free!


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 the money which I had borrowed from him and from his fellows.

"Ya, Allah, Tûan, but those days were exceedingly good days. I cannot think upon them for it makes me sad. It is true what is said in the quatrain of the men of Kědah—

"Pulau Pinang hath a new town And Captain Light is its king. Think not of the days that are gone Or you will bow low your head and your tears will flow.

"Ya, Allah! Ya Tûhan-ku! Verily I cannot endure these memories."

He lay tossing about upon his mat, muttering and exclaiming; and for a space I let him be. The thought of the old, free, lawless days, when it suddenly recurs to a Malayan râja of the old school, whose claws have been cut by the British Government, is to him like a raging tooth. It goads him to a maddened restlessness, and obliterates, for the time being, all other sensations. Words, in such circumstances, are useless; and in this particular instance I was hardly in a position to offer sympathy or consolation, seeing that Râja Haji and I were at that time engaged in an attempt to do for another Malayan state, and for the râjas who had battened upon it, all that my friend regretted so bitterly that the white men had done for Sělângor and for him.

Gradually he became calmer, and presently began


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 to chuckle comfortably to himself. Soon he spoke again.

"I remember once, when I was for the moment rich with the spoils of war, I gambled all the evening in that same gaming-house at Klang, and lost four thousand dollars. It mattered not at all on which quarter of the mat I staked, nor whether I went ko-o, li-am, or tang. I pursued the red half of the die, as one chases a dog, but never once did I catch it. At length, when my four thousand dollars were finished, I arose and departed, and my liver was hot in my chest. As I came out of the gaming-house, a Chinaman whom I knew, and who loved me, followed after me and whispered in my ear: ' Hai-yah, Ungku! You have lost much to-night. It is not fitting. That wicked one was cheating you; for he hath a trick whereby he can make the red part of the die turn to whichever quarter of the mat he chooses."

"'Is this true?" I asked. And he made answer. 'It is indeed true.'

"Then I loosened the 'Chinese Axe' in its scabbard, and turned back into the gaming-house. First I seized the Chinaman by his pigtail, though he


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 yelled and struggled, loudly proclaiming his innocence; and my followers gathered up all the money in his bank—nearly seven thousand dollars, so that it took six men to carry it. Thus I departed to my house, with the Chinaman and the money, none daring to bar my passage.

"When we had entered the house, I bade the Chinaman be seated, and I told him that I would kill him, even then, if he did not show me the trick whereby he had cheated me. This he presently did; and for a long time I sat watching him and practising, for I had a mind to learn the manner of his art, thinking that later I might profit by it. Then, just as the dawn was breaking. I led the Chinaman down to the river by the hand, for I was loath to make a mess within my house; and when I had cut his throat, and had sent his body floating downstream, I washed myself, performed my religious ablutions, prayed the morning prayer, and so betook myself to my sleeping-mat, for my eyes were heavy from long waking."

"Kasîh-an China! I am sorry for the Chinaman," I said.

"Why are you sorry for him?" asked Raja Haji. "He had cheated me, wherefore it was not fitting that he should live. Moreover, he was a Chinaman and an infidel, and the lives of such folk were not reckoned by us as being of any worth. In Kinta, before Tûan Birch came to Pêrak, they had a game called main china—the Chinaman game—each man betting upon the number of coins which a


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 passing Chinaman carried in his pouch, and upon whether that number were odd or even. Thereafter, when the bets had been made, they would kill the Chinaman and count the coins."

"They might have done that without killing the Chinaman," I said.

"That is true," rejoined Râja Haji. "But it was a more certain way, and morcover it increased their pleasure. But, Tûan, the night is very far advanced and we are weary. Let us sleep."

Verily life in an independent Malay state thirty years ago, like adversity, made one acquainted with some strange bedfellows.


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 on a wooden box fixed on the top of an upright pole, searching diligently for fleas and occasionally emitting a plaintive, mournful whimper. In the dim interior of the house the forms of two or three women could be indistinctly seen, and their voices sounded amid the recurring clack of crockery. Now and again a laugh-the laugh of a very young girl—rippled out, its merry cadences striking a note of joyousness and youth.

Presently a youngster, brilliantly dressed in silks of many colours, swaggered into the compound. He carried a kris in his girdle, and a short sword. with a sheath of polished wood, in his hand.

"O Che' Mat Drus," he cried, as soon as he caught sight of the old man in the doorway.

"What thing is it?" inquired the latter, pausing in the preparation of his betel quid, and raising weary eyes to gaze on the newcomer.

"The Grandfather (Chief) sends greetings and bids you come on the morrow's morn to the rice-field—you and all your folk, male and female, young and old—to aid in plucking the tares from amid the standing erop."

"It is well," mumbled Che Mat Drus, resuming his pounding stolidly.

"But listen. The Grandfather sends word that no one of your household is to remain behind. Do you understand? The womenfolk also must come, even down to the girl Mînah, whom your son Dâman hath recently taken to wife."

"If there be no sickness, calamity, or impediment


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 IN THE VALLEY OF THE TĔLOM

ERY far away, in the remote interior of Pahang, there is a river called the Tĕlom–an angry little stream, which fights and tears its way through the vast primeval forest, biting savagely at its banks, wrestling petulantly with the rocks and boulders that obstruct its path, squabbling fiercely over long, sloping beds of shingle, and shaking a glistening mane of broken water, as it rushes downward in its fury. Sometimes, during the prevalence of the northeast monsoon, when the rain has fallen heavily in the mountains, the Tělom will rise fourteen or fifteen feet in a couple of hours; and then, for a space, its waters change their temper from wild, impetuous rage to a sullen wrath which is even more formidable and dangerous. But it is when the river is shrunken by drought that it is most of all to be feared; for at such times sharp and jagged rocks, over which, at ordinary seasons, a bamboo raft is able to glide in safety, prick upward from the bed of the stream to within an inch or two of the surface, and rip up everything that chances to come in contact with them as cleanly as though it were cut with a razor. At the foot of the largest rapid in the Tělom one of these boulders forms, in dry weather, a very efficient trap for the unwary. The


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 THE INNER APARTMENT

F YOU go up the Pahang River for a hundred and eighty miles, you come to a spot where the stream divides itself into two main branches, and where the name "Pahang" dies an ignominious death in a small ditch which debouches at their point of junction. The river on your left is the Jělai, and that on your right is the Těmběling. If you go up the latter, you presently come to big flights of rapids, a few gambir plantations, and a great many of the very best ruffians in the Malay Peninsula, most of whom, a quarter of a century ago, were rather particular friends of my own. If, on the other hand, you follow the Jelai up its course, past Kuâla Lĭpis, where the river of that name falls into it on its right bank, and on and on and on, you come at fast to the wild Sâkai country where, in my time, the Malayan language was still unknown, and where the horizon of the aboriginal tribes was formed by the impenetrable jungle shutting down on the far side of a slender stream, and was further narrowed by the limitations of intellects that were unable to conceive an arithmetical idea higher than the numeral three. Before you run your nose into these uncleanly places, however, you pass through a district spattered with Malay habitations; and if you turn off up the Tĕlang


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 THE GHOUL

E HAD been sitting late upon the veranda of my bungalow at Kuâla Lipis, which, from the top of a low hill covered with coarse grass, overlooked the long, narrow reach formed by The combined waters of the Lîpis and the Jělai. The moon had risen some hours earlier, and the river ran white between the black masses of forest, which seemed to shut it in on all sides, giving to it the appearance of an isolated tarn. The roughly cleared compound, with the tennis ground which had never got beyond the stage of being dug over and weeded. and the rank growths beyond the bamboo fence. were flooded by the soft light, every tattered detail of their ugliness standing revealed as relentlessly as though it were noon. The night was very still, but the heavy, scented air was cool after the fierce heat of the day.

I had been holding forth to the handful of men who had been dining with me on the subject of Malay superstitions, while they manfully stifled their yawns. When a man has a working knowledge of anything which is not commonly known to his neighbours, he is apt to presuppose their interest in it when a chance to descant upon it occurs, and in those days it was only at long intervals that I had an opportunity of


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 A MALAYAN PRISON

HAVE said that the Malays, taken in bulk, have no bowels. The story I am about to tell illustrates the truth of this assertion rather forcibly. The particular incident related happened on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula in the year of grace 1895. The native gaol, of which mention is made, was visited by me a month or two before I wrote the account of it; and it and its numerous counterparts continued to exist in some of the independent Malay States on the east coast, until the British eventually took charge of their affairs in 1910. It is useful to bear facts such as these in mind lest, in our honest solicitude for the rights and liberties of mankind, we should subscribe too enthusiastically to the dictum of the late Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman that good government can never be a satisfactory substitute for self-government. From this opinion thousands of my friends in Malaya would passionately dissent, and as to whether the craven wretches who thus submit to alien rule can plead any justification for their heresy, let the readers of this story judge. For the rest, I must frankly admit that it is not a pretty tale, and I would counsel persons who prefer to ignore the existence of uncomfortable things to give it a wide berth.


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 HE OF THE HAIRY FACE

F YOU put your finger on the map of the Malay Peninsula, an inch or two from its exact centre, you will find a river in Pahang territory which has its rise in the watershed that divides that state from its northern neighbours Kĕlantan and Trĕnggânu. It is called the Tĕmběling, and after its junction with the Jělai, at a point some two hundred miles from the sea, the combined rivers are named the Pahang. The Tĕmbĕling is chiefly remarkable for the number and magnitude of its rapids, for the richness of its gutta-bearing trees, and as being the scene of some of the most notable exploits of the legendary magician Sang Kělěmbai, whose last days on earth are supposed to have been spent in this valley. The inhabitants of the district were, in my time, a ruffianly lot of jungle-dwelling Malays, preyed upon by a ruling family of Wans—a semi-royal set of nobles, who did their best to live up to the traditions of their class. Chiefs and people alike were rather specially interesting because—though of this they had no inkling-they represented the descendants of one of the earliest waves of Malay invaders of the Peninsula—folk who came, not from Sumatra, as did the ancestors of the bulk of the natives of British Malaya. but from the islands of


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306   From the horror of that desert, from its atmosphere of hell, Turns the fainting spirit thither, as the diver seeks his bell.

’T is the fervid tropic noontime; faint and low the sea-waves beat; Hazy rise the inland mountains through the glimmer of the heat,—

Where, through mingled leaves and blossoms, arrowy sunbeams flash and glisten, Speaks her lover to the slave-girl, and she lifts her head to listen:—

“We shall live as slaves no longer! Freedom’s hour is close at hand! Rocks her bark upon the waters, rests the boat upon the strand!

“I have seen the Haytien Captain; I have seen his swarthy crew, Haters of the pallid faces, to their race and color true.

“They have sworn to wait our coming till the night has passed its noon, And the gray and darkening waters roll above the sunken moon!”

Oh, the blessed hope of freedom! how with joy and glad surprise, For an instant throbs her bosom, for an instant beam her eyes!

But she looks across the valley, where her mother’s hut is seen, Through the snowy bloom of coffee, and the lemon-leaves so green.

And she answers, sad and earnest: “It were wrong for thee to stay; God hath heard thy prayer for freedom, and His finger points the way.

“Well I know with what endurance, for the sake of me and mine, Thou hast borne too long a burden never meant for souls like thine.

“Go; and at the hour of midnight, when our last farewell is o’er, Kneeling on our place of parting, I will bless thee from the shore.

“But for me, my mother, lying on her sick-bed all the day, Lifts her weary head to watch me, coming through the twilight gray.

“Should I leave her sick and helpless, even freedom, shared with thee, Would be sadder far than bondage, lonely toil, and stripes to me.

“For my heart would die within me, and my brain would soon be wild; I should hear my mother calling through the twilight for her child!”

Blazing upward from the ocean, shines the sun of morning-time, Through the coffee-trees in blossom, and green hedges of the lime.

Side by side, amidst the slave-gang, toil the lover and the maid; Wherefore looks he o’er the waters, leaning forward on his spade?

Sadly looks he, deeply sighs he: ’t is the Haytien’s sail he sees, Like a white cloud of the mountains, driven seaward by the breeze!

But his arm a light hand presses, and he hears a low voice call: Hate of Slavery, hope of Freedom, Love is mightier than all.

Westminster’s royal halls, Robed in their pontificals, England’s ancient prelates stood For the people’s right and good.

Closed around the waiting crowd, Dark and still, like winter’s cloud;


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 THE FLIGHT OF CHÊP, THE BIRD

NA large Sâkai camp on the banks of the upper reaches of the Jělai River, at a point some miles above the last of the scattered Malay villages, the annual harvest home was being held one autumn night in the year of grace 1893. The occasion of the feast was the same as that which all tillers of the soil are wont to celebrate with bucolic rejoicings, when the year's crop has been got in; and the name which I have applied to it awakens the perennial nostalgia of the exile by conjuring up the picture of many a long summer day in the quiet country at Home. Again, in imagination, he watches the loaded farm-wains labouring over the grass or lumbering down the leafy lanes; again the scent of the hay is in his nostrils, and the soft English gloaming—so delicious by contrast with the short-lived twilight of the tropics—is lingering over the land. The reapers astride upon the load exchange their barbarous badinage with those who follow afoot; the pleasant glow of health, that follows upon a long day of hard work in the open air, warms the blood; and in the eyes of all is the light of expectation, born of the thought of the good red meat, and the lashings of ale and cider, awaiting them at the farmhouse two miles across the meadows.


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 A DAUGHTER OF THE MUHAMMADANS

HE sunset hour had come as I passed up the narrow track that skirted the river bank, with a mob of villagers at my heels. Old men were there who had seen many strange things in the wild days before the coming of the white men; lull peasants, who seemed too stolid and stupid to have ever seen anything at all; and swaggering youngsters, grown learned in the mysteries of reading and writing, fresh from our schools and prepared at a moment's notice to teach the wisest of the village elders the only proper manner in which an egg may be sucked. The rabble which every Malay village spews up nowadays, when one chances to visit it, is usually composed of these elements—the old men whose wisdom is their own and of its kind deep and wide; the middle-aged tillers of the soil, whose lives are set in so straitened a rut that they cannot peep over the edges, and whose wisdom is that of the field and the forest; and the men of the younger generation, most of whose knowledge is borrowed, extraordinarily imperfect of its kind, and fortified by the self-confidence of ignorance. The men of the first two classes are gradually dying out, those of the last are replacing them; and the result sometimes tempts one to ask the heretical question whether European


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 THE LONE-HAND RAID OF KÛLOP SÛMBING

E WAS an ill fellow to look at—so men who knew him tell me—large of limb and very powerfully built. To his broad and ugly face a peculiarly sinister expression was imparted by a harclip, which left most of the upper gums exposed. It was to this latter embellishment that he owed alike his vicious temper and the name by which he was known. That his disposition should not have been of the sweetest was natural enough, for women did not love to look upon the gash in his lip; and whereas, in the land of his birth, all first-born male children are called Kûlop, his nickname of Sûmbing—which means "the chipped one"—distinguished him unpleasantly from his fellows, and reminded him of his calamity whenever he heard it.

He was a native of Pêrak, and he made his way alone, through the untrodden Sâkai country, into Pahang. That is practically all that is known concerning his origin. The name of the district in which Kûlop Sûmbing had his home represented nothing to the natives of the Jĕlai Valley, into which he strayed on the other side of the Peninsula, and now no man knows from what part of Pêrak this adventurer came. The manner of his coming, however, excited the admiration and impressed itself


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 THE FLIGHT OF THE JUNGLE-FOLK

RÊTING, the old Sâkai slave-woman, first told me this story, as I sat by her side at Sayong, on the banks of the Pêrak River, watching her deft management of her long fishing-rod, and listening to her guttural grunts of satisfaction when she contrived to land anything that weighed more than a couple of ounces. The Malays called her Krêting—which means woolly-head—in derision, because her hair was not so sleek and smooth as that of their own womenfolk, and it was the only name to which she had answered for well-nigh half a century. When I knew her she was repulsively ugly, bent with years and many burdens, lean of body and limb, with a loose skin that hung in pouches of dirty wrinkles, and a shock of grizzled hair which, as the village children were wont to cry after her, resembled the nest of a squirrel. Even then, after many years of captivity, she spoke Malay with a strong Sâkai accent, splitting each word up into the individual syllables of which it was composed; and though the story of her life's tragedy moved her deeply, her telling of it was far from being fluent or eloquent. By dint of making her repeat it to me over and over again, by asking countless questions, and by fitting what she said and what she hinted on to my own


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 ONE WHO HAD EATEN MY RICE

HE punkah swings freely for a space, then gradually shortens its stride; hovers for a moment, oscillating gently, in answer to the feeble jerking of the cord; almost stops and then is galvanized into a series of violent, spasmodic leaps and bounds, each one less vigorous than the last, until once more the flapping canvas fringe is almost still. It is by signs such as these that you may know that Ûmat, the punkah-puller, is sleeping the sleep of the just.

If you look behind the higli sereen which guards the doorway, you will see him; and without moving, if the afternoon is very warm and still, you may occasionally hear his soft, regular breathing, and the gentle murmur with which his nose is wont lo mark the rhythm of his slumber. An old cotton handkerchief is bound about his head in such a manner that the top of his scalp is exposed, the short bristles of hair upon it standing erect in a circular enclosure, like the trainers in a garden of young sîrih vines. On his back he wears an old, old coat of discoloured khaki, once the property of a dead policeman. The Government buttons have been taken away from him by a relentless inspector of police, and Ûmat has supplied their place with thorns, cunningly contrived


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 AT A MALAYAN COURT

HERE and when these things happened does not signify at all. The east coast of the Malay Peninsula is a long one; several native states occupy its seaboard; and until quite recently the manners of the râjas who ruled over them had not suffered any material change for centuries. Thus, both in the matter of time and of spare, a wide range of choice is afforded to the imagination. The facts, anyway, are true, and they were related, in the watches of the night, to a white man (whose name does not matter) by two people with whose identity you also have no concern. One of the latter was a man, whom I will call Âwang Îtam, and the other was a woman whose name was Bêdah, or something like it. The place which they close for the telling of their story was an empty sailing-boat, which lay beached upon a sand bank in the centre of a Malayan river; and as soon as the white man had scrambled up the side, the dug-out which had brought him sheered off and left him.

He had come to this place by appointment, but he knew nothing beyond that single fact, for the assignation had been made in the furtive native fashion which is as unlike the invitation card of Europe as are most things in the East if compared


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 THE ÂMOK OF DÂTO' KÂYA BIJI DĔRJA

HE average stay-at-home European knows little about the Malay and cares less. Any fragmentary ideas that he may have concerning him are obtained, for the most part, from light literature of the kind which caters for the latent barbarism of the young, with the amiable object of awakening in them a spirit of adventure which the circumstances of later life will render it impossible for the vast majority in any degree to satisfy. Books of this class, which are apt to be more sensational that accurate, ordinarily depict the Malay either as a peculiarly "treacherous" person, much as wild beasts that stand up for themselves are denounced as "vicious" by big game shooters; or else as a wild-eyed, long-haired, blood-smeared, howling, naked savage, armed with what Tennyson calls "the cursed Malayan crease," who spends all his spare time running "amuck."

As a matter of fact, âmok-running was not an event of very frequent occurrence, even in the lawless and unregenerate days of which I chiefly write; but mistaken notions concerning it, and more especially with regard to the reasons that impel Malays to indulge in it, are not confined to those Europeans who know nothing of the natives of the Peninsula.


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 A MALAYAN ACTOR-MANAGER

T KÔTA BHARU, the capital of Kĕlantan, some thirty years ago, the Powers of Wickedness in the High Places were at considerable pains to preserve a kind of cock-eyed, limping, knock-kneed, shambling morality which kept more or less even step with their conception of the eternal fitness of things. To this end, Yam Tûan Mûlut Mêrah, the "Red Mouthed King," so called on account of his insatiable thirst for blood, did his best to discourage theft; and in pursuance of this landable desire killed during his reign sufficient men and women to have repeopled a new country half the size of his own kingdom. Old Nek 'Soh, the Dâto' Sri Padûka, who stood by and witnessed most of the killing, used openly to lament in my time that all the thieves and robbers were not made over to him instead of being wasted in the shambles. It was his opinion that, with so considerable a following, he might have set up a new dynasty in the Peninsula and still have had enough men and women at his disposal to make it possible for him to sell a batch of them now and then if ready money were needed. Nek 'Soh was a wise old man, and he was probably sure of his facts; but though his influence with his master, the Red Mouthed King, was great in most


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Rh King and council, lord and knight, Squire and yeoman, stood in sight;

Stood to hear the priest rehearse, In God’s name, the Church’s curse, By the tapers round them lit, Slowly, sternly uttering it.

Right of voice in framing laws, Right of peers to try each cause; Peasant homestead, mean and small, Sacred as the monarch’s hall,—

Whoso lays his hand on these, England’s ancient liberties; Whoso breaks, by word or deed, England’s vow at Runnymede;

Be he Prince or belted knight, Whatsoe’er his rank or might, If the highest, then the worst, Let him live and die accursed.

Thou, who to Thy Church hast given Keys alike of hell and heaven, Make our word and witness sure, Let the curse we speak endure!”

Silent, while that curse was said, Every bare and listening head Bowed in reverent awe, and then All the people said, Amen!

Seven times the bells have tolled, For the centuries gray and old, Since that stoled and mitred band Cursed the tyrants of their land.

Since the priesthood, like a tower, Stood between the poor and power; And the wronged and trodden down Blessed the abbot’s shaven crown.

Gone, thank God, their wizard spell, Lost their keys of heaven and hell; Yet I sigh for men as bold As those bearded priests of old.

Now too oft the priesthood wait At the threshold of the state; Waiting for the beck and nod Of its power as law and God.

Fraud exults, while solemn words Sanctify his stolen hoards; Slavery laughs, while ghostly lips Bless his manacles and whips.

Not on them the poor rely, Not to them looks liberty, Who with fawning falsehood cower To the wrong, when clothed with power.

Oh, to see them meanly cling, Round the master, round the king, Sported with, and sold and bought,— Pitifuller sight is not!

Tell me not that this must be: God’s true priest is always free; Free the needed truth to speak, Right the wronged, and raise the weak.

Not to fawn on wealth and state, Leaving Lazarus at the gate; Not to peddle creeds like wares; Not to mutter hireling prayers;

Nor to paint the new life’s bliss On the sable ground of this; Golden streets for idle knave, Sabbath rest for weary slave!

Not for words and works like these, Priest of God, thy mission is; But to make earth’s desert glad, In its Eden greenness clad;

And to level manhood bring Lord and peasant, serf and king; And the Christ of God to find In the humblest of thy kind!

Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away; Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven’s warm sunshine in;

Watching on the hills of Faith; Listening what the spirit saith, Of the dim-seen light afar, Growing like a nearing star.

God’s interpreter art thou To the waiting ones below; ’Twixt them and its light midway Heralding the better day;

Catching gleams of temple spires, Hearing notes of angel choirs,


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 TÛKANG BÛROK'S STORY

LD Tûkang Bûrok, the fashioner of wooden dagger hilts and sheaths, sat cross-legged on the narrow veranda of his hut, which, perched upon the high bank, overlooked the Pârit River. I squatted, smoking, at his side, watching him at his work, and luring him on to talk of the days of long ago.

Forty feet below us the red, peat-stained waters of the Pârit, banked back by the tide now flowing up the Pahang River from the sea, crawled lazily toward their source. The thatched roofs of more than a score of rafts lay under our feel, so that anything falling off the Tukang's veranda would drop plump upon the nearest of them. Nuzzling one another, and rubbing sides with a constant creaking, twice as many large native boats were moored. Each of them was furnished with a substantial deck-house, high enough to accommodate a seated man, walled with wood and protected by a strong roof of kâjang, which rose in a graceful curve toward the stern and supported the mâgun, or steersman's perch, which


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 IN CHAINS

T WAS rather more than five and twenty years ago that I returned from leave of absence in Europe, and took charge of the district which forms the interior of the native state of Pahang, and is the exact core and centre of the Malay Peninsula. It was a big tract of country, over three thousand square miles in extent, and in those days. was reckoned the wildest part of the protected Ma- layan states. It did not boast a mile of made road or bridle path in all its vast expanse; it was simothered in deep, damp forest, threaded across and across by a network of streams and rivers, the latter the best of our highways; and a sparse sprinkling of Malay villages was strewn over its surface—a dozen or two of thatched roofs in shady palm and fruit groves adjoining wide, flat stretches of rice-field and grazing grounds studded with rhododendron scrub. Besides the Malay population there were a few camps filled with Chinese miners engaged in fossicking for gold: a band or two of sulky Australian prospectors, sorely discontented with the results which they were ob- taining; and an odd thousand or so of squalid abori- gines, living in dirt and wretchedness up in the mountains. For the rest the inhabitants of my district were native chiefs. the overlords and op-


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 L'ENVOI

To My Brethren in Malaya

The grim Recording Angel turns the pages of the Book, And the days are thrust behind us past recall— All the sorrows that we tasted, all the pleasure that we took In that life we shared together, Brothers all! But to-day the forest whispers and to-day the ungkas whoop, Where the big, slow river lumbers down to meet the sun-lit sea, And the village drones and drowses while the palm-fronds lift or droop, For the old life glideth onward still—with ne'er a place for me.

In the hut and in the palace, in the sun-fleck'd forest glade, Where the vast trees crowding stagger 'neath their load of fern and vine, In that world of untouched Nature, 'mid the marvels God hath made, You are living on in listlessness the life that once was mine. Hark! I eatch the thud of tom-toms, and the drone of old-world song, The sleepy hum of insects, and the rush of startled beast— And I lack the words to tell you, O my Brothers, how I long For the glory and the glamour and the wonder of the East.


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Rh

——— The same. Map and ills. 2 v. 8°. London, J: Murray, 1882.

(Earl of). See (Sir F: Temple Hamilton Temple, earl of Dufferin).

(C: Franklin). The Danish Sound dues. [Anon.] In "The North American review." v. 84. 8° Boston, Crosby, Nichols & co., no. 174, Jan. 1857, pp. 48-70.

(S: Astley). History of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway. 3 v. 16°. London, Longmans [etc.], 1839-40.

. Icelandic poetry, or the Edda of Sæmund translated into English verse, by A. S. Cottle. 8° Bristol, N. Briggs for J. Cottle, 1797

——— Edda Sæmundar hinns froda. The Edda of Sæmund the learned. From the Old Norse or Icelandic, with a mythological index [and] an index of persons and places [by Benjamin Thorpe.] 2 v. 12°. London, Trübner & co., 1866.

——— See also (Augusta). Tales from the Norse grandmother, 1881.— (Hamilton Wright). Norse stories. 1882.— (Eirikr) and (W:) Völsunga saga. 1870.— (H..) Tales from the Edda. [1882.]

. — Professor Rasmus B. Anderson has been for some time preparing a translation of the Elder Edda which is now nearly completed and may soon be looked for in print.

. The Edda, or ancient Icelandic mythology. [Translated into French by Paul Henri Mallet, and from the French into English by T: Percy.] In (P. H.) Northern antiquities. 8° London, T. Carnan & co., 1770, v. 2, pp. 1-199.

——— The same. In (P. H.) Northern antiquities. 8° Edinburgh, C. Stewart, 1809, v. 2, pp. 1-149.

——— The Prose or Younger Edda commonly ascribed to Snorri Sturluson, translated from the Old Norse by G: Webbe Dasent. 8°. Stockholm, Norstedt & sons, 1842.

——— The Prose Edda. [Translated from the Icelandic by I. A. Blackwell.] In (P. H.) Northern antiquities. 12°. London, H: G. Bohn, 1847, pp. 397-463: 508-516: 541-570.

——— The Younger Edda: also called Snorre's Edda, or the Prose Edda. An English version of the foreword: the fooling of Gylfe, the afterword; Brage's talk, the afterword to Brage's talk, and the important passages in the poetical diction (Skaldskaparmal). With an introduction, notes, vocabulary and index. By Rasmus B. Anderson. 8°. Chicago, S. C. Griggs & co., 1880. [1879.]

——— See also (Hamilton Wright). Norse stories. 1882. ; or, the tales of a grandmother. 1875. See (C. J.)


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14   But a pale hand was beckoning
 * The Huguenot on;

And in blackness and ashes
 * Behind was St. John!

The incidents upon which the following ballad has its foundation occurred about the year 1660. Thomas Macy was one of the first, if