lake extends far more widely than it does in the dry, and overflows
its shallow banks, especially to the south-west. A great number of
water-plants grow on its borders; amongst which I particularly noticed
a delicate seaweed [96], as fine as horse hair, but intertwined in such
close and endless ramifications that it forms a flooring strong enough
to support the largest waterfowl. I saw hundreds of them hopping about
and eating the shell fish and prawns, which swarmed amidst the meshes
of the net-like seaweed and fell an easy prey to their feathered
enemies. The natives, too, were in the habit of catching immense
quantities of the prawns with nets made for the purpose. Some they
ate fresh; and some they kept till they were putrid, like old cheese,
and then used them as a relish to swallow with their rice. These
small shell-fish are not limited to the Lake of Batu. They are caught
in shoals in both the salt and the fresh waters of the Philippine
and Indian archipelagos, and, when salted and dried by the natives,
form an important article of food, eaten either in soup or as a kind
of potted paste. They are found in every market, and are largely
exported to China. I was unable to shoot any of the waterfowl, for
the tangles of the seaweed prevented my boat from getting near them.

[A neglected product.] When I revisited the same lake in February,
I found its waters so greatly fallen that they had left a circular
belt of shore extending all around the lake, in most places nearly a
hundred feet broad. The withdrawal of the waters had compressed the
tangled seaweed into a kind of matting, which, bleached by the sun,
and nearly an inch thick, covered the whole of the shore, and hung
suspended over the stunted bushes which, on my first visit, had
been under water. I have never either seen elsewhere, or heard any
one mention, a similar phenomenon. This stuff, which could be had
for nothing, was excellent for rifle-stoppers and for the stuffing
of birds, so I took a great quantity of it with me. This time the
bird-hunting went well, too.

The native priest of Batu was full of complaints about his
parishioners, who gave him no opportunities of gaining an honest
penny. "I am never asked for a mass, sir; in fact, this is such a
miserable hole that it is shunned by Death itself. In D., where I was
for a long time coadjutor, we had our couple of burials regularly
every day at three dollars a head, and as many masses at a dollar
apiec