The Datu possessed a daughter, the loveliest girl in Borneo. I have never seen a native surpass her in figure, or equal her gentle, expressive countenance. She appeared but sixteen years of age, and as she stood near, leaning against the door-post in the most graceful attitude, we had a perfect view of all her perfections. Her dress was slight indeed, consisting of nothing but a short petticoat reaching from her waist to a little above her knees. Her skin was of that light clear brown which is almost the perfection of colour in a sunny clime, and as she was just returning from bathing, her hair unbound fell in great luxuriance over her shoulders. Her eyes were black, not flashing, but rather contemplative, and her features were regular, even her nose was straight. So intent was she in watching our movements, and wondering at our novel mode of eating, with spoons, and knives and forks, that she unconsciously remained in her graceful attitude for some time; but suddenly recollecting that she was not appearing to the best advantage in her light costume, she moved away slowly to her room, and presently came forth dressed in a silk jacket and new petticoat, with bead necklaces and gold ornaments. In our eyes she did not look so interesting as before. Pañgeran Sirail now approached us to say that he felt he was too old and weak to ascend the great mountain, but had brought three of his people to supply his place. We were not sorry, as his devotion to whiskey would have sadly reduced our little stock. Although it was but three months after the harvest, yet we could obtain no supplies of rice; they had it in the form of padi, but were unwilling to part with it, so we sent back some of our followers to procure sufficient for a few days. Next morning we made but little progress, as we had to wait for the men who had gone in search of rice. However, we reached the village of Bawang, our path lying among the fruit groves that skirted the river’s banks. As it was now unfordable, we had to cross it by a boat, and this was a slow process with our large party. Bawang, a Dusun village, consists of scattered dwellings, like those of the Malays, while the others we have seen resemble the houses of the Sea Dayaks. A family very hospitably received us, and gave up half their accommodation to us and our immediate followers. The Datu who had accompanied us to this place now returned, handing us over to Kadum, his son-in-law, a very dull-looking man; we were also joined by ten others. One, a Malay named Omar, who was to act as interpreter and guide, was a willing but a stupid fellow; he came originally from the Dutch settlement of Pontianak, and had been married five years to a Dusun girl, yet he could scarcely manage to act as interpreter, not so much from ignorance, as from a confusion of ideas.