and I tasted it, and found it in flavor much like the meat of an
ancient and overworked draught ox, but Mr. Ferney thought it like good
veal. At dinner the whole talk was of the wild beasts of the jungle;
and, as we were all but among them, it was very fascinating. I wanted
to go out by moonlight, but Mr. Ferney said that it was not safe,
because of tigers, and even the Malays there don't go out after
nightfall.

Mr. Ferney has given me a stick with a snake-mark on it, which was
given to him as a thing of great value. The Malay donor said that
anyone carrying it would become invulnerable and invisible, and that if
you were to beat anyone with it, the beaten man would manifest all the
symptoms of snake poisoning! Mr. Ferney has also given me a kris. When
I showed it to Omar this morning, he passed it across his face and
smelt it, and then said, "This kris good--has ate a man."

I could not sleep much, there were such strange noises, and the sentry
made the veranda creak all night outside my room; but this is a
splendid climate, and one is refreshed and ready to rise with the sun
after very little sleep. The tropic mornings are glorious. There is
such an abrupt and vociferous awakening of nature, all dew-bathed and
vigorous. The rose-flushed sky looks cool, the air feels cool, one
longs to protract the delicious time. Then with a suddenness akin to
that of his setting, the sun wheels above the horizon, and is high in
the heavens in no time, truly "coming forth as a bridegroom out of his
chamber, and rejoicing as a giant to run his course," and as truly
"There is nothing hid from the heat thereof," for hardly is he visible
than the heat becomes tremendous. But tropical trees and flowers,
instead of drooping and withering under the solar fury, rejoice in it.