return, if only for a short space of time, to the grosser pleasures of earth. “One day he spoke these words to his wife: ‘Delight of my life and light of my eyes, forgive me for what I am about to say. I want to go to Kuching to see my brothers and sisters, and to stay with them a while.’ A great sickness of heart seized the daughter of the moon; nevertheless, she let him go, pledging him to return to her when a month had gone by. She called her servants and ordered them to prepare a boat to carry her husband to Kuching. So the Haji departed, and the days seemed long to the daughter of the moon. At length the Haji’s time had expired, but week after week went by and his wife sat alone on her mountain peak, longing for his return. “Meanwhile, Haji Hassan was enjoying himself with his friends at Kuching. He was made a great deal of; bullocks were killed for his consumption at great banquets in the houses of his friends, where he was the honoured guest, and always the one chosen to admonish his friends and give them lessons in good conduct before the meal began. In fact, he was so lionized that he forgot his wife waiting for him amongst the clouds at the top of Santubong. “Some months had elapsed, when one morning, as the Haji was returning from the river-bank where he had bathed and prayed before beginning the day, he looked towards the north and saw a great black cloud forming over the peak of the mountain; then he suddenly remembered his wife. He hastily summoned his servants, and, when the boat was made ready, the tide and strenuous paddling of his crew bore him speedily to the foot of Santubong. He clambered its steep sides and reached his home--only to find it empty and desolate, for the daughter of the moon had flown. At this the Haji’s heart grew sick and he shed bitter tears. He went back to his relations at Kuching, and there became gloomy and silent, constantly sighing for the presence of his wife. “One evening, a man in a canoe passed by the Haji’s landing-place, where he was sitting, staring at the river. ‘Eh, Tuan Haji,’ the man called out, ‘your wife has been seen on the top of Mount Sipang,’ and quickly paddled off. The Haji sprang into his canoe tied to the landing-place, unloosed its moorings, and paddled himself to the foot of Mount Sipang. He rushed up to its highest peak, but his wife was not there. Subsequently he heard news of her on Mount Serapi, the highest peak of the Matang range, but on reaching the mountain-top he was again disappointed. Thus from mountain peak to mountain peak the disconsolate husband sought his wife all over Borneo, but the daughter of the moon had vanished out of his life for ever. He went back to Kuching, and soon after died of a broken heart.” This was the end of the story, but my friend went on to explain that whenever the peak of the Santubong mountain is bathed in moonlight the people imagine the daughter of the moon is revisiting her old home.