IN TANDJONG SELOR 29 



When the whistle is heard from down the river a great 

 yell arises from all over the town. The steamer is com- 

 ing ! People by the hundreds run down to the wharf 

 amid great excitement and joy. Many Malays do not 

 work except on these occasions, when they are engaged 

 in loading and unloading. The principal Chinese mer- 

 chant there, Hong Seng, began his career as a coolie on 

 the wharf. He has a fairly well-stocked store with some 

 European and American preserved articles, and was re- 

 liable in his dealings, as the Chinese always are. He was 

 rich enough to have of late taken to himself a young wife, 

 besides keeping his first one. His two young sons who 

 assisted him had been at school in Singapore, and were 

 proud to air their knowledge of English. 



The house where I lived was on the main street, on the 

 river bank, and in the evening the little shops on either 

 side started playing nasty, cheap European phonographs 

 the noise of which was most disagreeable. Most of the 

 records were of Chinese music, the harsh quality of which 

 was magnified tenfold by the imperfections of the instru- 

 ments. When the nerve-wracking concert became in- 

 tolerable, they were always good enough to stop it at my 

 request. 



However, there was one feature about this remote 

 place which was repugnant — the prevalent flogging of chil- 

 dren with rattan, mostly among the Mohammedan 

 Malays. Not a day passed without wails and violent 

 cries arising in some part of the town, especially during 

 the forenoon, although I did not perceive that the children 

 here were more incorrigible than elsewhere. The Dayaks 



