Serip Bagus and his wife, the Seripa, had taken great pains to put their house in order for our arrival. Following the Rajah, the chief’s wife took me by the hand and led me into a room, at one end of which was a large raised platform, on which were laid mats and embroidered cloths for the Rajah and myself to sit on. This audience-room, similar to those built in almost all Malay chiefs’ houses, was filled with the village people, who had come to see the Rajah and listen to what he had to say. I was very tired and longed for rest, but did not like to say anything for fear of disappointing the people who had so kindly prepared this reception for us. The Rajah and I sat side by side on the platform, whilst the chiefs made interminable speeches. I got more and more tired, and at last said to the Rajah: “I must go away; I am so tired.” The Rajah begged me to try and keep up a little longer on account of the people. At length, however, people or no people, I could stand it no longer, and going behind the Rajah on the platform, laid full length on the floor, and fell fast asleep, regardless of any kind of etiquette. I must have woke owing to the conversation ceasing, and found the chief’s wife bending over me. She told me she would lead me to a room where a bed was prepared for me, and taking my right hand, followed by her daughter, a young girl, dressed in silks, satins, and gold ornaments, together with four of the most aged females it has ever been my lot to see alive, she led me into the women’s apartment, where, occupying about a quarter of the room, was a huge mosquito house. This was hung with valances of red-and-gold embroidery. Lifting up a corner of the curtain, the chief’s wife took me, as she called it, to bed. Seven pillows, like hard bolsters, stiff and gorgeous with gold embroidery, were piled one over the other at the head of the bed--these being the seven pillows used on all Muhammadan couches, and below them was a hard, knobbly gold-embroidered bolster for me to rest my head on. The chief’s wife took her position at my feet, with a fan, whilst the four old ladies, who grunted a good deal, each occupied a corner of the curtains, two of them holding sirih boxes and two paper fans, in order that I should not want for anything in the night. When daybreak came, I knew I should have to tell them I was awake and wanted to get up, seeing they would not dare to speak. All over Sarawak, whether amongst Malays or Dyaks, it is thought dangerous to awaken anyone from sleep, in case their souls should be absent from their bodies and never return again. Ima was not permitted inside my mosquito curtains, nor was she allowed to accompany me to my morning bath. The chief’s wife, his daughter, his female cousins, his aunts, and the four old cronies with their sirih boxes and paper fans, came with me into the garden, where there was a pool of water. I stepped into this, and was handed a leaf bucket by the chief’s wife, with great ceremony; this I