As We Sailed Up The Kutei River In The Early Morning, Approaching Samarinda, An Attractive Scene Presented Itself.

Absolute calm and peace reigned, a slight morning mist rising here and there before us and giving a touch of charm to the vista of modest white houses that stretched along the beach in their tropical surroundings.

Samarinda lies almost on the equator, but nights and mornings are always cool, even to a greater degree than in Bandjermasin. Northeast Borneo and North Celebes have a comparatively cool climate, but from Samarinda southward it is warmer. I called on the assistant Resident, in whose office a beautiful blue water-rail, with a red head, walked unconcernedly about. He advised me that this was the worst time for travelling, when the northwest monsoons, which are accompanied by much rain, are blowing.

The peace and contentment among the natives here, mostly Malays, impresses one favourably. They are all very fond of their children and take good care of them. The crying of children is a sound that is rarely heard. It was my fortune to travel over two years in the Dutch Indies; it is gratifying to state that during that time I never saw a native drunk, cit her in Java or Borneo. My visits did not extend to the Muruts in the north of Borneo, who are known to indulge excessively in native rice brandy. Nor was I present at any harvest feast, but according to reliable report, "strong drink is seldom or never abused" by the tribes of Borneo. The Muruts and the Ibans are the exceptions.

Two days later, among mighty forests of nipa-palms, we sailed up the Kayan or Bulungan River and arrived at Tandjong Selor, a small town populated by Malays and Chinese, the number of Europeans being usually limited to two, the controleur and the custom-house manager. It lies in a flat swampy country and on the opposite side of the river, which here is 600 metres wide, lives the Sultan of Bulungan. I secured a large room in a house which had just been rented by two Japanese who were representatives of a lumber company, and had come to arrange for the export of hardwood from this part of Borneo.

Accompanied by the controleur, Mr. R. Schreuder, I went to call on the Sultan. He was a man of about thirty-five years, rather prepossessing in appearance, and proud of his ancestry, although time has so effaced his Dayak characteristics that he looks like a Malay. Dato Mansur, his executive, met us at the landing and escorted us into the presence of the Sultan and his wife, where we were offered soda-water and whiskey, and we remained an hour. They are both likeable, but the Sultan appears rather nervous and frail, and it is rumoured that his health has suffered as a result of overindulgence in spiritualistic seances. He gave an entertaining account of natives living in the trees on the Malinau River. As it had been impossible for me to obtain cartridges for my Winchester rifle, the Sultan was kind enough to lend me one of his before we parted, as well as two hundred cartridges.

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