Datu Isa sometimes brought with her a friend, whom I got to know well. This lady was a Seripa, that is to say, a descendant of the great Prophet himself. Such descendants are numerous all over the Archipelago. I never quite made out how the many Serips[1] and Seripas[5] I met in Sarawak traced their descent from the great founder of Islam, but as their countrymen and women accepted their great position, it must have been unassailable, and I never attempted to solve the mystery. Seripa Madjena’s husband was also a Serip, for female descendants of the Prophet may not marry out of their rank, although Serips may marry whom they please. Serip Hussin was employed as an overseer at one of the Rajah’s coffee plantations not far from Kuching. Datu Isa told me, and I found out for myself, that Seripa Madjena could do most wonderful embroideries. As she was a poor woman, Datu Isa suggested that she should come so many hours a day to the Astana to work for me and to teach me her craft. Most Malay women, as I have said before, are able to embroider, and their methods greatly interested me. My first lesson was conducted in this fashion. The Seripa was seated in the middle of the floor of my sitting-room, and the lady Datus, their friends, and I, were seated round her to watch the proceedings. The Seripa asked for pieces of foolscap, which she cut into broad bands of about nine or ten inches wide and about a yard and a half in length. She then folded them into about five layers, and with a sharp penknife began punching out the design through the top layer. The penknife went in and out, cutting notches here, rounding circles there, without any preliminary lines to guide it. In fact, the Seripa was doing free-hand with a penknife! I had prepared boxes of betel-nut and sirih for the refreshments of my guests. Datu Isa never moved without her sirih box, and she prepared a mouthful of this delicacy for me from her own store. She took a leaf of betel-vine, smeared it with a little shell-lime, stuck a small portion of the areca-nut on the lime, wrapped the leaf into a bundle, and presented it to me. “Bagus sekali” (very nice), she said, and watched the effect on me as I began munching at this Malay delicacy. I did not like it, but did my best to appear as though I did. When the ladies present had been presented with betel-nut and sirih, we sat chewing in a silence only broken by ejaculations from the Seripa, together with long-drawn sighs and invocations to Allah. “She is working in earnest,” said Datu Isa. We all nodded assent, whilst giving vent to little grunts of approval. The punching went on, and the little scraps of paper lay like snow around the Seripa, who suddenly gave a louder sigh than usual and a more lengthy invocation to Allah, and shaking the pattern free from the cuttings of paper, we saw a delicate and flowing pattern of conventional leaves, of birds and of fishes, rustling itself free from her fingers to the floor.