we essayed to sleep.
The howling and beating of gongs in the house, however, rendering this
quite impossible, the inevitable "square-face" was therefore produced,
and, lighting our pipes, we made up our minds for a thoroughly
wretched night--and got it; till about six a.m., when the noise
ceased, and the M.D.'s, I conclude, retired to that rest which they
must have sorely needed, to say nothing of their unfortunate patients!

Small-pox is and has ever been a disease greatly dreaded by the
aborigines of Borneo, for living as they do in crowded and
ill-ventilated dwellings, this terrible scourge, whenever it breaks
out amongst them, commits great ravages. A regular panic ensues on the
appearance of the epidemic; those seized being left to their fate,
with perhaps a bundle of firewood and gourd of cold water placed
within their reach, while their more fortunate companions take their
flight up or down the river as the case may be, spreading infection
wherever they go. It is not surprising, therefore, that so few
recover, although vaccination, which is now compulsory in Sarawak, has
greatly decreased the number of those attacked.

The "manangs," or medicine-men aforementioned, are a queer race of
creatures. Although of the male sex, they are dressed as women, living
in the Sadow and possessing all the privileges of the other sex.
Small-pox is never mentioned by its proper name of "char-char" by the
Dyaks, but always spoken of as "he," "she," or "it;" for they imagine
the mere mention of its name may attract, and bring it amongst them.

An amusing anecdote is told of an old Dyak living in the house we were
moored off that dismal night. This old man (of some 60 years) became
enamoured, while on a visit to Kuching, of an English lady's-maid
residing there; so much so, that he repeatedly urged her to marry and
accompany him to his jungle home. This offer was declined with thanks;
but on the morning of the day of the departure of this merry old
gentleman for his country residence, the lady missed her chignon,
which she had placed on her dressing-table the night before on
retiring to rest. Not being possessed of so much hair as she might
have been, this was no inconsiderable loss. Six months later, when the
event was nearly forgotten, an officer up the Simunjan, noticing what
looked like a scalp on our old friend's girdle, and knowing that the
Dyaks never take them, examined the object more closely; and, having
heard the story