f us; but everything is against us. We
can never marry white men; though we frequently fall in love with them
for we work side by side with them in the offices. But when it comes to
marrying us they fear the social ban. It is a terrible thing. There is
no way out! It is a thing that has been imposed upon us from the
generations that have gone. We pay!"

I shall never forget her brown eyes, her brown skin, her heaving breast,
as the great Dutch ship cut the waves of the South China Sea bound for
Java.

"Why are you leaving a good position and going to Java?" I asked her.

"They say things are better for us girls in Java; that the Dutch are not
so particular. I shall no doubt be homesick for Singapore but I am going
to try Java for a while. My sister is there!"

* * * * *

A Feminine-Flash light that has its humorous side was one that I
experienced in Borneo.

We had gone out to a Dyak village to take pictures.

It was a miserably hot morning. That night I stayed in Pontianak which
is bisected by the Equator. It was so cold in the middle of the night
that I had to get up and put on a night shirt!

The next day we tramped ten miles through the Jungle to a Head-hunting
Dyak village.

I had been taking pictures for an hour in this Kampong when six of the
most beautiful Dyak girls came in, with great Bamboo water tubes flung
over their gracefully strong shoulders. Their skin looked like that of a
red banana from toe to chin. They were stark naked save for a girdle
about their loins. They had been five miles away for water.

Their skin was flushed with exercise. There they stood, mystified at
seeing white men in the village Kampong.

In fact they were terrified.

Their big brown eyes bulged out.

Their breasts heaved with fear.

I said to the missionary, "Dyak Madonnas! What a painting they would
make?"

"Yes, there are no more beautiful women anywhere. They look like bronze
statues. A Rodin, or a St. Gaudens would go wild over their limbs and
bodies."

I asked the missionary to tell them that I wanted to take a picture of
them just as they were, standing with their water vessels poised on
their shoulders; in their naked splendor and beauty.

He told them.

They squealed for all the world like American girls and ran for dear
life, disappearing in the flash of an eye.

He tried to coax them to come out to get a picture taken. The Missionary
could speak their language but