Datu's house, which is of large dimensions and rudely built on
piles, which raise it about six feet above the ground, and into which
we were invited. The house of the Datu contains one room, part of which
is screened off to form the apartment of his wife. Nearly in the center
is a raised dais, eight or ten feet square, under which are stowed
all his valuables, packed in chests and Chinese trunks. Upon this
dais are placed mats for sleeping, with cushions, pillows, etc.; and
over it is a sort of canopy, hung around with fine chintz or muslin.

The dais was occupied by the Datu, who is, next to the Sultan, the
greatest man of this island. He at once came from it to receive us, and
had chairs provided for us near his sanctum. After we were seated, he
again retired to his lounge. The Datu is small in person, and emaciated
in form, but has a quick eye and an intelligent countenance. He
lives, as he told me, with all his goods around him, and they formed
a collection such as I could scarcely imagine it possible to bring
together in such a place. The interior put me in mind of a barn
inhabited by a company of strolling players. On one side were hung up
a collection of various kinds of gay dresses, here drums and gongs,
there swords, lanterns, spears, muskets, and small cannon; on another
side were shields, buckler, masks, saws, and wheels, with belts, bands,
and long robes. The whole was a strange mixture of tragedy and farce;
and the group of natives were not far removed in appearance from the
supernumeraries that a Turkish tragedy might have brought together in
the green-room of a theatre. A set of more cowardly-looking miscreants
I never saw. They appeared ready either to trade with us, pick our
pockets, or cut our throats, as an opportunity might offer.

The wife's apartment was not remarkable for its comforts, although
the Datu spoke of it with much consideration, and evidently held his
better half in high estimation. He was also proud of his six children,
the youngest of whom he brought out in its nurse's arms, and exhibited
with much pride and satisfaction. He particularly drew my attention
to its little highly-wrought and splendidly-mounted kris, which was
stuck through its girdle, as an emblem of his rank. He was in reality a
fine-looking child. The kitchen was behind the house, and occupied but
a small space, for they have little in the way of food that requires
much preparation. The house of the Datu might justly b