The house where I lived was on the main street, on the river bank, and in the evening the little shops on either side started playing nasty, cheap European phonographs the noise of which was most disagreeable. Most of the records were of Chinese music, the harsh quality of which was magnified tenfold by the imperfections of the instruments. When the nerve-wracking concert became intolerable, they were always good enough to stop it at my request. However, there was one feature about this remote place which was repugnant--the prevalent flogging of children with rattan, mostly among the Mohammedan Malays. Not a day passed without wails and violent cries arising in some part of the town, especially during the forenoon, although I did not perceive that the children here were more incorrigible than elsewhere. The Dayaks never beat their children, and later I did not observe similar cruelty among Malays. Wise though King Solomon was, his precept not to spare the rod should be regarded in the light of his large family, "700 wives, princesses, and 300 concubines." Even in the training of animals, better results are obtained by omitting the lash. In the beginning of January, 1914, I was able to start for Kaburau. The controleur courteously provided for my use the government's steamship _Sophia_, which in six hours approached within easy distance of the kampong. My party consisted of Ah Sewey, a young Chinese photographer from Singapore whom I had engaged for developing plates and films, also Chonggat, a Sarawak Dayak who had had his training at the museum of Kuala Lampur in the Malay Peninsula. Finally, Go Hong Cheng, a Chinese trader, acted as interpreter and mandur (overseer). He spoke several Dayak dialects, but not Dutch, still less English, for Malay is the lingua franca of the Dutch Indies as well as of the Malay Peninsula. As we anchored for the night I heard for the first time, from the hills that rose near by, the loud defiant cry of the argus pheasant. How wildly weird it sounds on a quiet evening! The next morning the Kayans met us with boats to take us up to their kampong, Kaburau. Some women were pounding paddi (rice) under the large communal house which, in accordance with the custom of the country, was raised from the ground on posts. Dogs were much in evidence, both on the ground below and on the gallery of the house above. The canine species kept by the Dayaks have erect ears, are rather small and their colour is usually dull yellow. Here they were variously coloured, some entirely black, and fights among them were of frequent occurrence. Ascending the ladder I found a large tame bird of the stork family chained to the gallery, for the Dayaks often keep birds and animals in their houses.