When I was in Kuching, it seemed to me that the machinery of life was moved by clockwork, the Rajah being the most punctual man alive. At five o’clock in the morning, just before daybreak (we must remember that in those latitudes there is scarcely any difference in the length of days), a gun was fired from the Fort, at which signal the Rajah jumped out of bed. Wishing to do the same as the Rajah, the Europeans, Malays, Dyaks, and Chinese jumped out of bed too. One had to dress and bathe by lamplight, and just as one came out to drink one’s morning tea, the sun rose. At six o’clock, Kuching was fairly astir, and the Rajah and I used to go across in our boat (for there is no bridge anywhere over the river) to the landing-place below the court-house, where our horses were awaiting us. Mounting our animals was occasionally fraught with difficulty. Our Syces (grooms) in Sarawak were mostly recruited from the Buyan people of an island off Java, who are extraordinarily sympathetic in their treatment of animals. For instance, my pony had been bought in Labuan, chosen from out a herd of wild ponies which roam about the plains of that more northern portion of Borneo. The pony had never been broken in properly, according to our European ideas of what a horse’s perfect manners should be, and very often as I approached to mount the animal (he was only about thirteen and a half hands high) he would turn round and round. I would say to the Syce, “Try and keep him still,” whereupon the Syce would reply, “He doesn’t want to keep still!” Therefore so long as it suited the pony to turn round and round, the Syce turned round and round too. It generally took some time before the pony became amenable, when I would seize the moment and scramble on to his back as best I could. This kind of thing went on nearly every morning before I started for my ride. In those days, with the exception of a few paths in and out of the town, there was only one well-made road extending for about a mile and a half into the country. Up and down this road, the Rajah and I pounded on our horses for the necessary exercise which every one must take, whether in or out of the tropics. On coming home, we found the gateway into the Palace full of all sorts of people--Malays, Dyaks, and Chinese--anxious to see the Rajah. The Rajah never refused to see any one, and after hearing their complaints, he dismissed them kindly with a few words of advice. The motley morning crowd always reminded me of pictures in the Bible stories of my childhood, for there were turbaned Hajis in their flowing robes, women draped in dingy folds of cotton from head to foot, youths, maidens, and sometimes little children, crawling, walking, running, or jumping down the path after their interviews, but whether chieftains or beggars, Seripas or women of a lower class, there was always an innate dignity belonging to these people; they could not look common or vulgar however much they might try to do so.