Bertram’s arrival on the scene prevented me from taking as many expeditions with the Rajah as before. I now spent months together in Kuching, and day by day added to my knowledge of the people, of their beliefs and their aspirations, and made me love them more than ever. It was during this period the idea came to me that it was a pity Malay women could not read or write their own language. They were fond of ancient lore and enjoyed hearing the legends and romantic tales relating to their race, handed down to them through traditional sources. In all the suburbs of Kuching curious old women were to be found, many of whom had acquired in some mysterious manner these tales from those of past generations. Such old women were called reciters, and Malay ladies when giving parties often hired their services to entertain their friends. Having learnt of this amusement, I started parties of recitation at the Astana, which generally took place in the evening. Clad in our best silks and satins, and stiff with gold brocade, we sat together in my private room with the reciter, poorly dressed in dark cotton clothes, pouring out wonderful stories of kings, queens, and princesses; of royal gardens, monkey-gods, peacocks, flowers, perfumes, and such-like things. I could not follow these stories very well, because these old ladies sang every word. Sometimes the voice was low, sometimes very shrill, and when embarrassed for a word, they trilled and quavered, remaining on a very high note until they remembered how the story went, when they gleefully descended the scale, began again, and poured forth further torrents of words. Sometimes they paused, walked rapidly across the room, and spat through the window. “She is full of understanding,” Datu Isa would say after one of these journeys to the window. “She knows her work!” “Her words come from ancient times!” “It is beautiful exceedingly!” Meanwhile, the reciter, holding her draperies firmly round her, left the window, and bending double as she passed us as a sign of respect, took her place once more in the centre of her admiring circle and began afresh, until stopped again in the same way, when the same ejaculations of admiration came from us all. [Illustration: DAIANG SAHADA, DAIANG LEHUT, MRS. MAXWELL, THE AUTHOR AND ATTENDANTS]