"With the Sambas brig came Seriff Hussein, a relation of the Sultan of Pontiana, and half Arab half Bugis by descent. He came with the avowed purpose of entering into the most friendly communication with me, and residing here, provided I gave him any encouragement. His real motive (if he has one) not being obvious, I, in the mean time, treated him with all kindness; and he is an intelligent and pleasing person, and, moreover, connected with the Siniawans, who have a good opinion of him." CHAPTER XII. Reflections on the new year.--The plundered village, and other wrongs.--Means for their suppression.--The new government proceeds to act.--The constitution.--Preparations for an expedition against the Sea Dyaks.--Form of a treaty.--Wreck of the Viscount Melbourne.--Administration of justice.--Difficulties and dangers.--Dyak troubles.--Views and arrangements of the Chinese.--Judicial forms.--Wrongs and sufferings of the Lundus. "_Jan. 1st, 1842._--The past year is in the bosom of eternity, into which bourne we are all hurrying. Here we have no merry-making, no reunion of families, no bright fires or merry games, to mark the advent of 1842; but we have genial weather, and are not pinched by cold or frost. This is a year which to me must be eventful; for at its close I shall be able to judge whether I can maintain myself against all the circumstances and difficulties which beset me, or whether I must retreat, broken in fortune, to some retirement in my native land. I look with calmness on the alternative, and God knows no selfish motives weigh on me; and if I fail, my chief regret will be for the natives of this unhappy country. Let the year roll on, let the months pass; and whatever they bring--whether it be life or death, fortune or poverty--I am prepared; and in the deep solitude of my present existence I can safely say that I believe I could bear misfortune better than prosperity. In this, probably, I am not singular; for there is something in prosperity which, if it does not make us worse, makes us more foolish and more worldly--which decks passing time with wreaths of gay flowers, and gilds the things of this life with tinsel hopes and wishes, to the exclusion of the pure gold of reflection for the life to come. What are all these gewgaws, these artificial flowers, these momentary joys, these pleasures of the sense, before the war of time? Nothing! And yet, if exertion can benefit our race, or even our own country--if the sum of human misery can be alleviated--if these suffering people can be raised in the scale of civilization and happiness--it is a cause in which I could suffer, it is a cause in which I _have_ suffered and _do suffer_; hemmed in, beset, anxious, perplexed, and the good intent marred by false agents--surrounded by weakness, treachery, falsehood, and folly, is suffering enough; and to feel myself on the threshold of success, and only withheld by