t Malay State, like adversity, makes one
acquainted with strange bed-fellows.

THE BATTLE OF THE WOMEN

Woman is the lesser man, and all her passions matched with mine,
Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.

_Locksley Hall._

This is a true story. Also, unlike most of the tales which I have to
tell concerning my Malay friends, it is garnished with a moral; and one,
moreover, which the Women's Rights Committees would do well to note. I
should dearly like to print it as a tract, for distribution to these
excellent and loud-talking institutions, but, failing that, I publish it
here, among its unworthy companions.

To those who live in and around a Malay Court, two things only take rank
as the serious matters of life. These are the love intrigues, in which
all are more or less engaged at peril of their lives, and the deeds of
daring and violence,--long past or newly done,--of discussing which men
and women alike never weary. People talk, think, and dream of little
else, not only in the places where men congregate, but also in the dimly
lit inner apartments, where the women are gathered together. In the
conduct of their love intrigues, men and women alike take a very active
part, for the ladies of the Peninsula are as often as not the wooers of
the men, and a Malay girl does not hesitate to make the necessary
advances if the swain is slow to take the initiative, or fails to
perceive the desire which she has conceived for him. In the matter of
fighting, however, the women--who are as often as not the cause--act
usually as mere spectators, taking no active part themselves, though
they join in a shrill chorus of applause when a shrewd blow is given,
and delight greatly in the brave doings of their men. Nevertheless, the
warlike atmosphere, with which she is surrounded all the days of her
life, sometimes infects a young Malay Princess, and urges her to do some
daring deed which shall emulate the exploits of her brothers, and shall
show her admirers how dashing a spirit, and how great a courage are
hers.

It was during the hot, aching months, which, in Merry England, go to
make up the Spring of the year; and the King and his favourite
concubines had betaken themselves up-river to snare turtle-doves, and to
drowse away the hours in the cool flowering fruit groves, and under the
shade of the lilac-coloured _bungor_ trees. Therefore the youths and
maidens in