ght and
slenderness, not to mention that astounding walking-skirt, which had
apparently grown upon her, there being no visible means by which it
could be put on and off.

It was that morning most of us saw for the first time the durian,
of malodorous fame, whose taste is said to be as delicious as its
smell is overpowering. The fruit was for sale in the market at a few
pennies apiece, and had banishment from Sulu not been threatened as
a punishment, I should certainly have tasted one, that I might more
accurately describe it.

"If you're bound to eat one of those nasty durians," said a friend
living in the town, "please take it on the ship and have the captain
anchor out farther at sea. If you attempt to open one here, you'll
have the Sanitation Committee after you hotfoot!"

So I desisted, but looked at the durians so wistfully that the Moros
put them down in price to a penny apiece, evidently thinking that
monetary considerations prohibited the purchase.

In appearance the durian is green and prickly, about the size of a
small melon, and even through the tough outside rind one can notice
a faint nauseating odour. It is said that when one is opened in the
market it takes but a few moments to clear the vicinity of Americans,
while if a man be courageous enough to brave the strong smell and take
a bite of the fruit, his presence will be unwelcome in polite society
for some time thereafter; yet the durian is delightful to the palate,
and would doubtless be oftener eaten did not one become so steeped
in its anything but Sabean odour.

That first morning in Sulu, after a jolly breakfast with some of our
army friends, a post officer took me into the Moro village of Tuli,
just south of the walled town. There we visited many native house,
climbing up steps made of circular logs, which were hard to navigate
in shoes, and in every instance the natives greeted us with the
utmost cordiality.

In one of the tumble-down shacks near the sea we found the Sultana,
Inchy Jamela, mother of the present Sultan, who had preceded her son to
Sulu on a little visit. She was a most repulsive old hag, blear-eyed
and skinny with blackened teeth, from which the thin lips curled away
in a chronic snarl, but she rose on her elbow from the couch where
she was reclining, and shook hands in good American fashion. Then she
threw us each a pillow, indicating that we, too, should lie down and
take it easy, but we preferred our perpendicularity, an