IN SUMATRA. 185 



interest. Across the river the Adilage of Pengandonan glinted 

 through tlie palms ; the yillagers were constantly going to or 

 returning with loads of fruit and vegetables from the fields in 

 little boats, or poling up and down or across the river on 

 narrow rafts of five or six short bamboos lashed together; 

 there was a constant stream of women and children either to 

 bathe or to wash rice or to fill with water the basketful of 

 bamboos slung behind them. As every one wore more or less 

 brightly-coloured garments and cylindrical hats painted with 

 dragon's-blood red, the scene had no lack of colour or life to 

 make it a pleasing one. When the rain-torrents brought the 

 river down in flood, as it did about once a day, the scene was 

 still more lively. The whole population, men, women, and 

 children, swarming out like a disturbed ants' nest, with 

 creels, hampers, baskets and nets, dashed in up to the very 

 eyes, where the force of the stream was broken a little, to 

 scrape the bottoms and sides of the river for the fish (which 

 have taken refuge there out of the current), allowing them- 

 selves the while to be floated down the stream for some dis- 

 tance ; then, running up stream again, shouting and laughing, 

 they dashed in for another and another bout. These floods 

 sometimes quite cut me oflF from communication with the 

 opposite side ; and as my cooking was all performed in the 

 village, I was constrained sometimes to go dinnerless to bed. 

 When a few hours' rain is sufficient to flood the river so as to 

 bring down fruits, branches, large trees and (as I saw on one 

 occasion) a broad slice of ground with the bamboos growing 

 on it, one who has not seen it can but faintly imagine the 

 volume and power of such a river after the incessant rain of 

 several days. 



A curious feature of this place was the abrupt hills of 

 which I have spoken. Composed of calcareous crystalline 

 rocks, probably of Eocene age, they appear to have been in 

 ancient times the boundaries of the ocean in which was laid 

 down what is now the plain of Eastern Sumatra. The Peak 

 of the Kiang, the most abrupt of them all, is the highest land 

 between itself and the coast, distant iu a direct line one hun- 

 dred and twenty miles, and commands a magnificent panorama 

 of a long stretch of the Ogan valley, running between deep 

 barriers, the sun-flash on whose surface guided the eye all 



