eir boats. Neatly fastened together with split rattans, they form
the walls of the house. From the juice of the tree they make a fermented
drink something like sweet beer, also brown sugar. The young shoots are
eaten in curries and salads. The fruit is salted or pickled. When they
have got all these good things out of it, they burn the stem of the palm
with some of the leaves, and wash the burnt ashes in water. This water
is then boiled until it is evaporated, and some black salt remains at
the bottom of the pot. It tastes bitter as well as salt; but the Dyaks
prefer it to common salt, and if you ask why, they say, "It is a fat
salt." I must now return to my husband's journal. "Arrived at Kenowit. A
tribe of Milanows have been induced to settle here lately by the Rajah.
Within the last few weeks they have built two long and substantial
houses, raised thirty feet from the ground on trunks of trees, some two
feet in diameter. There are in all sixty doors, or families. The tribe
furnishes three hundred fighting men, and numbers from fifteen hundred
to two thousand.

"The bachelors, as with the Dyaks, have a separate dwelling.

"Tanee's tribe, who are returning to Sibou on the Rajah's promise to
build a fort at Kenowit, are of the same tribe, and number about three
hundred men. They speak the Milanow language, and have the same customs
of burial. The men and some of the women are tattooed in the most
grotesque patterns. When you look at them closely the invention
displayed is truly remarkable; but at a distance they give a dingy,
dusky appearance to the men, as if they were daubed with an inky sponge.
Nature having denied them beards, they tattoo curly locks along their
faces, always bordered by a vandyke fringe, which must task their utmost
ingenuity. Tanee, who has followed us with some of his warriors, is the
very exquisite of a Kenowit. He is made like a Hercules, and is proud of
showing his strength and agility. He piques himself upon having the
best sword, of fine Kayan make and native metal, and the strongest arm
in his tribe. He sits most of the day sharpening one or another of these
swords, feeling and looking along its edge to see that the weapon is in
perfect order: then, to prove it, he seeks for a suitable block of wood,
as thick as his arm, severs it at a blow, gives a yell, and with a grin
of delight returns the weapon to its sheath. His jacket is of scarlet
satin; his long hair is confined by a gold-embroide