de and flatten it out to a
plank of about eighteen inches wide. Portions of hollow bamboo serve as
receptacles for milk or water. If a precipice stops a path, the Dyaks
will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using
branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and
every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos
by which it is supported.

Honey-bees in Borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt,
under the branches of the Tappan, which towers above all the other trees
of the forest. But the Dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of
trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder--which can be
prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the Tappan--and
storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for
bees'-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings,
gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate
themselves. When travelling, the Dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in
which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve
honey, sugar, etc., or salted fish and fruit. Split bamboos form
aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses. A small neatly
carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the
materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing--which
seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing. If a pipe is
wanted the Dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge
hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed
knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost
ready-made. But the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost
endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no
other tools than an axe and a knife to work it.

At about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or
prau, which had been sent down to convey them to the Rajah's village.
Here Nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of Van der
Kemp, who, somehow--probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability,
to oblige--had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the
Malay Archipelago he travelled.

Afterwards, in a conversation with Nigel, the professor, referring to
those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere,
said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself--

"You cannot oo