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THE LIGHTS OF CHANGKAT ASAH. 



ON the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, between the 

 Perak and the Selangor rivers, lies the great Bernam 

 river. The Perak river is thickly populated, and 

 steamers and launches churn up its tidal waters every 

 hour of the day. Near its mouth are large sugar 

 and cocoanut plantations, and a railway runs inland 

 to feed the busy mining centres where tens of 

 thousands of Chinese coolies work, like yellow ants, 

 to dig out the tin-ore that affords the greater part 

 of the world's supply. It is the same in Selangor. 

 But the Bernam river lies untouched. At its mouth 

 a fishing village, evil - looking and evil - smelling, 

 huddles on either bank : then the great river sweeps 

 inland; it is navigable to steamers for a greater 

 length than any other river in the peninsula, but 

 an occasional Government launch is the only vessel 

 that disturbs its waters. About a hundred miles in- 

 land it opens into a vast, dreary, dismal morass, named 

 Simpang Kadangsa, and loses itself in a wide spread 

 of floating vegetation through which the Malays with 

 trouble hack a way for their boats. Above this 

 horrible pathless expanse it is a clear mountain 

 stream flowing through magnificent forest, inhabited 



