corpse around
the house for several months, could you? When cremation day comes round
again, however, he is dug up, taken to a temple and burned. There is no
escaping the funeral-pyre in Bali. As we were leaving one of the
cremation places I overheard the Doctor irreverently humming a
paraphrase of a song which was very popular in the army during the war:

"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
If the grave don't get you the wood-pile must."

* * * * *

Unlike the South Sea islanders, who are rapidly dying out as the result
of diseases introduced by Europeans, the population of Bali--which is
one of the most densely peopled regions in the world, with 325
inhabitants to the square mile--is rapidly increasing, having more than
doubled in the last fifteen years. This is due in some measure, no
doubt, to the climate, which, though hot, is healthy save in certain
low-lying coastal districts, but much more, I imagine, to the fact that
there are scarcely a hundred Europeans on the island, and that, as
there are no harbors worthy the name, European vessels rarely touch
there. It is well for the Balinese that their enchanted island has no
harbors, for harbors mean ships, and ships mean white men, and white
men, particularly sailors, all too often leave undesirable mementoes
of their visits behind them.

The men of Bali are a fine, strong, dignified, rather haughty race, fit
mates in physique for their women. They are considerably taller than
any other Malays whom I saw and possess less Mongoloid and Negroid
characteristics, these being subdued by some strong primeval alien
strain which is undoubtedly Caucasian. Though now peaceable enough,
every Balinese man carries in his sash a kris--the long, curly-bladed
knife which is the national weapon of Malaysia. Most of the krises that
I examined were more ornamental than serviceable, some of them having
scabbards of solid gold and hilts set with precious stones. Moreover,
they are worn against the middle of the back, where they must be
difficult to reach in an emergency. I imagine that the kris, universal
though it is, serves as a symbol of former militancy rather than as a
fighting weapon, just as the buttons at the back of our tailcoats serve
to remind us that their original purpose was to support a sword-belt.
But, though the Balinese have made no serious trouble for their Dutch
rulers for upward of a decade, they long resisted European dominat