III.] PIGSTICKING. 51 



the island and several pig-hunts with the Sultan and the Panglima 

 of Parang. The latter was as keen a sportsman as he was a for- 

 midable warrior, and with good weather and plenty of pigs we had 

 one or two capital days, although we did not on any occasion kill 

 more than eight. Few sights could well be more picturesque than 

 our " meets " on the park-like uplands of the beautiful island. The 

 brilliant colours of the dresses ; the scowling face of the old Pang- 

 lima gi\^ng his orders ; the advance of the line through the long 

 grass ; the spears glittering in the blaze of sunshine ; the excitement 

 and rush when piggy broke cover ; the ride homeward by moonlight 

 to Meimbun, or to the stockaded house of the Pangluna; the strange- 

 ness of our surroundings as we dropped off to sleep on the cool 

 hard mats, — all these are among our most vivid recollections of 

 Sulu. The natives are most fearless riders, and mounted on 

 their sure-footed little ponies, will go at full gallop over the roughest 

 ground. Like almost every wild tribe I have seen, the people ride 

 with the big toe only in the stirrup, which here is usually a simple 

 loop of rope. 



We were even better friends with the Spaniards than with the 

 Sulus, and it was curious thus to alternate between two races who 

 had been bitter enemies for nearly three centuries ; on one day in 

 almost complete savagery, the next drinking coffee and listening to 

 selections from Wagner rendered by a band which only a few 

 months previously, before the advent of cholera, had been nearly 

 100 strong. All the performers, with the exception of the con- 

 ductor, were of native or mixed blood, from Manila, and their 

 instruments had been sent out from Paris. Sitting in the little 

 creeper-covered arbour in the public gardens, with our excellent 

 friend the Governor pouring out a string of amusing absurdities 

 between the pieces, we could shut our eyes and fancy ourselves in 

 Nice, or some other like haunt of fashion in far-away Europe. If 

 we opened them the illusion vanished quickly enough. At the 

 end of the street the sentry paced up and down behind the loop- 

 holed walls, and between selections from the " Nozze " and " Ptobert 



