the
Long Lamas, and many others that might be named, including the whole
tribe of the Kayans, who take their name from the great Kayan river
which empties into the sea on the East coast. If a river that is new to
them be visited, the spirits of that stream must be always propitiated
lest they resent the intrusion and drown the visitor. It is the custom
among the Bukits, one of the most primitive tribes, for the youths, when
they reach the bank of a new river, to divest themselves of every
article of clothing, save a chaplet of leaves, which they twist from the
vines near at hand; then crouching at the edge of the water, they toss
some personal ornament, such as a brass ear-ring or a bright bead, far
out into mid-stream, and at the same instant scoop up a handful of the
water; gazing earnestly into the few drops which they hold in their
palm, they invoke the spirits of the river to protect them, and implore
permission to enter the new territory. Not until this rite is completed
would they dare to bathe in the stream.

[Illustration: A SCENE ON THE DAPOI RIVER.]

To revert to the subject of names; from all that I have read, and from
personal observation, it seems that all Borneans recognize the sanctity
of names; of this we may find traces among all the primitive people of
the earth. Before the formal ceremony of naming a child, for instance,
has been performed, the child has no recognized place in the community,
and a mother in enumerating her children would never think of mentioning
one that had died before it was named, even though it had lived a year.
Before the ceremony, the intended name is known to no one except the
parents, and, for them to mention it, is strictly _permantang_ until the
river water has been poured on the child's head. A Kayan will never tell
you his name, but when asked he invariably turns to some one sitting
near him and asks him to pronounce the name which to the owner is
ineffable. For a man to mention the name of his dead father or mother is
a reckless flying in the face of providence. After a serious illness the
name should be changed and never uttered again, lest the evil spirits
revisit their victim; under a new name they will be likely to pass him
by. On one occasion, recognizing a man that I had seen on a former
visit, but, at the moment forgetting his name, I enquired what it was;
the name, however, struck me as entirely unfamiliar. He afterward
acknowledged that he had been very sick s