marrying me, out of hand, to Mademoiselle Clémence! I must quietly, dissemblingly, await the solution of that riddle.'

'Well, well,' I said aloud, 'your conscience will not, I dare say, have to bear any very heavy load of my laying on. And there is one thing, Mr Webbe,' I added with vehemence, which I will not bear for another hour of daylight, and that is, these abominable Pas de Calais pantaloons. If hair à la Brutus, earrings, and a puce-red redingote are not sufficient disguise for an Englishman, Auguste Le Moine must do his best and worst, for draw on again these yellow inexpressibles, I will not, come what come may.'

The captain's good-humour was restored at once; he laughed heartily, genially, and for the remainder of the evening, overflowed with jocund spirits. I silently scored myself a chalk, and had, I think, a right to do so.

The reader must not suppose, from my description of Mademoiselle Clémence, that she was a bold or forward maiden; on the contrary, she was a remarkably modest-mannered damsel; but it was the modesty of principle, of education, rather than that of nature or instinct, so to speak. In other words, she was a wellbred French girl; modest, but by no means bashful; self-possessed, not shy. Very pretty, too, was Mademoiselle Clémence; of most winning, graceful manners; and there was a caressing tenderness in her gentle, truthful voice, that was inexpressibly attractive. I was greatly taken with her, though not at all in the sense which Webbe supposed. In truth, much as I soon came to admire, esteem, ay, and to love Clémence, she was about the last person in the world I should have sought for a wife. I felt towards her as a brother would for an endearing, pure-hearted sister; and I often caught myself mentally comparing the calm, tranquil affection which so grew upon me for the gentle, confiding Clémence, with the passionate emotion that, circumstances favouring, would be inspired by such a person as Maria Wilson, to whom, oddly enough-as I had seen her but once-my thoughts, when engaged by such reflections, persistently reverted.

Clémence was alone, as she had promised to be, when I called according to appointment; and entering at once with the most perfect frankness upon the subject uppermost in both our minds, I was dismayed to find that the only proofs she could afford me of being the child of Madame Waller were a dim, fading recollection that she had once lived in a strange country, amongst strange people-some fragmentary hints, that had fallen from Madame de Bonneville, and Captain Webbe's confident and confidential assertions, upon which Mademoiselle Clémence placed implicit reliance. Nothing, positively nothing more in the way of evidence, could I elicit; and I was fast making up my mind that Webbe had bamboozled himself as well as others, when it occurred to me that it would be well to shew Clémence the printed bill given me by the captain: I did so, and doubt, uncertainty was at an end. O, mon Dieu!' exclaimed Clémence, who read English very well, 'I have seen these things, and lately too.'

'How-when-where?'

'In the armoire up stairs, about a month since, when mamma' a very imperfect rendering of maman--'when mamma was absent in the island of Guernsey.' 'Tell me about it, dear Clémence-all about it, to the minutest detail.'

'It is very simple, mon ami. Mamma is, you know, very strict, severe even, with me; and yet I love her!' exclaimed Clémence, impulsively diverging from the all-important topic; and it will be a bitter grief for me if-if- Ah,' she continued disjointedly, remember how kind, loving she was when fever attacked me, and I should, but for her, have died. It would be ungrateful of me, then-nay, unnatural,

I

even supposing she is not my own real mother—if I did not love her-would it not?'

'Yes, yes. But pray, speak of your finding the articles mentioned in this printed bill.'

'Willingly, mon ami. When mamma was absent in Guernsey, as I said, Fanchette asked me one day what had become of my turquoise brooch-this which I now wear. I said mamma had not given it to me when she left; but Fanchette was certain she had seen me wear it twice since then; and where, therefore, could it be? We were both terribly frightened, for mamma attached a great value to the brooch, and if it had been lost, would have punished me severely. Well, we searched everywhere for the brooch-vainly searched: it could not be found. Poor Fanchette was greatly distressed, and tried to believe I was right in thinking mamma had not given it me when she left St Malo. Could we only be sure of that, our minds would of course be at rest. But how make sure of it? The armoire where mamma kept all her valuables was locked, there was no key that would fit it, and we were in despair, for mamma was expected every day. Suddenly, Fanchette rushed into my chamber one morning before I was up. She had found a key that would fit the armoire lock, and directly I was dressed, we would make a search, and satisfy ourselves. We did so, carefully replacing each article as we found it. Presently, we came to a neatly folded and tied-up parcel, which I opened, and found therein not only the missing brooch, but a necklace made of rows of seed-pearls, with a gold pearlset cross attached; other twisted rows of seed-pearls, which, no doubt, were the sleeve-loops mentioned here; a faded blue silk frock, shoes of the same colour, and a child's tiny underclothing. My heart swelled with emotion as I gazed,' continued Clémence; for it occurred to me that those were precious memorials of a sister who died young, and whom mamma often said, when she was angry, she had loved much better than she did me. But the brooch was found,' she added, hastily brushing away her fast-falling tears, and we, Fanchette and I, were happy.'

'And those precious proofs are still, you say, locked up in an armoire of which Fanchette has a key?' "O yes, I am quite sure of that. But how pale you look, and you tremble as with ague!'

'With joy, rapture, ecstasy, Clémence! Listen to me, dear girl, and you will comprehend why it is that this discovery, to which the finger of an overruling Providence guided you, so agitates, bewilders, well-nigh overpowers me.'

Clémence listened whilst I told her all-told her of the mother's maddening agony at the loss of her only child, of my hapless father's persecution, with the correlative circumstances already known to the reader. The narrative, as it proceeded, cruelly agitated the gentle maiden, her head sank upon my shoulder, and she wept aloud in the fulness of her pity, her grief, her love, her indignation, as these passions of the soul ruled her by turns.

Fanchette had helped the weeping girl to her chamber, and returned to where I sat, when I bethought me of the indelible mark hinted at in the advertisement. Fanchette was in our interest-heavily bribed to be so; and although I did not like the woman, I could speak to her with perfect confidence. 'Clémence has no natural mark that I know of,' said Fanchette in reply to my question. 'No mole or moles?' 'None-certainly none.'

'No stain of blood-no malformation of limb-no peculiar scar?'

'Nothing of the kind that I am aware of; and I should know if any such existed.'

"That is perplexing. You will tell Mademoiselle Clémence that I shall see her early to-morrow,' I added, as I rose to leave.

'I will, monsieur. Attendez,' added the woman, as if with sudden recollection. Yet no-that cannot be called a mark.'

'What do you speak of?'

'Nothing, I fear, monsieur, of any importance, though I may as well mention it. Clémence, some years ago, was reduced to a skeleton by fever, from which it was for a long time thought she would never recover. She was attended by Dr Poitevin, who, I heard one day tell Madame de Bonneville, that, by a curious freak of nature, her daughter Clémence had been born with one rib less on her right than on her left side. Surely that cannot be '

'It can surely be,' I interrupted with a burst-it must be the natural mark spoken of. Hurrah! Do not forget to tell dear Clémence that I shall call early to-morrow. Adieu.'

Thus, a Dyak house is rather a singular structure; and when imbosomed, as it often is, among cocoanut, plantain, and other fruit-trees, forms a quietly pleasing and picturesque object, suggestive of much social happiness enjoyed in a simple state of society. It awakens, moreover, ideas of a higher kind, for it is a sign of the presence of all-subduing man on the confines of the jungle that is yet to fall before his axe.

The materials of which these edifices are constructed are so fragile that they require to be rebuilt every five or six years, and when this necessity occurs, the Dyaks, instead of erecting the new house in the immediate vicinity of the old one, generally remove to a considerable distance.

THE DYAKS.

BY A PERSONAL ACQUAINTANCE OF THEIRS.

THE Dyaks live in communities of from ten or twenty to forty families, all of them residing in one house under the headship of one tuah, or elder, whose influence among them depends very much on his personal qualifications. The house in which each community lives is an edifice of from fifty to a hundred yards in length, and raised on posts eight or ten feet high. Its framework is constructed of posts lashed together with split rattans; while the roof and partitions are composed of attaps, a kind of thatch, so simple and useful as to merit a distinct description. It is made of the leaves of the Nipu, a palm which grows in the mud on the banks of the rivers, and differs from most other palms in having no trunk, being merely a collection of fronds proceeding from one root. Each frond consists of a stem or midrib, about twenty or thirty feet in length, on each side of which grow a series of leaves, two or three feet long, and two or three inches broad. To form attaps, the Dyaks cut off these leaves, and wind them over a stick a yard long, making them overlap each other, so as to become impervious to rain. They then sew or interlace them all firmly with split rattans; thus forming a sort of leaf-tile, at once strong and light, and well adapted for excluding both sun and rain. The house is divided longitudinally in the middle by a partition, on one side of which is a series of rooms, and on the other a kind of gallery or hall upon which the rooms open. In these rooms, each of which is inhabited by a distinct family, the married couples and children sleep; the young unmarried women sleep in an apartment over the room of their parents, and the young men in the gallery outside. In this gallery likewise, which serves as a common hall, their principal occupations are carried on; and here the planks of their war-boats, their large mats, and all their more bulky articles, are kept; and the grim trophies of their wars, the scorched and blackened heads of their enemies, are suspended in bundles. The floor is a kind of spar-work, composed of split palmtrunks, and raised ten or twelve feet from the ground, access being given to it by a ladder, or more frequently by a log of wood cut into the form of steps. Connected with the gallery, and running along the whole length of the house, there is a broad platform on the level of the floor, upon which the Dyaks spread out their rice after harvest, and other articles they wish to be dried in the sun.

more frequently they stand alone; and thus it happens that if the tribe is populous, it may be scattered over a very great extent of country.

Besides the tuals, there is another and superior class of chiefs called orang kaya (rich men), grave steady old men of good family, who, when young, have distinguished themselves by their courage; and who, in their riper years, are regarded as discreet judges in weighty matters of the law. Even the power of an orang kaya, however, is extremely limited. He has no actual authority over his followers, so as to compel them to do anything against their will; his superiority is shewn only in leading them to battle, and acting as a judge in conjunction with other chiefs. In other respects, the chiefs have scarcely any distinction. They work at their farms and their boats as hard as their own slaves; they wear the same dress, and live in the same manner as the rest of the community; their only token of chieftainship being the respect which is voluntarily accorded to their personal qualities, and the deference paid to their opinion. To an assembly of chiefs, all disputes are referred, and their decisions are given in accordance with their own customs, which, besides guiding the verdict, generally settle the penalty which shall be inflicted on the aggressor.. Cases which, from want of evidence or from uncertainty of any kind, cannot be thus decided, are settled by an appeal to superior powers in an ordeal by diving.

When both parties in a dispute have agreed that it should be referred to the diving ordeal, preliminary meetings are held to determine the time, place, and circumstances of the match. On the evening of the day previous to that on which it is to be decided, each party stakes in the following manner a certain amount of property, which, in case of defeat, shall come into the possession of the victor. The various articles of the stake are brought out of the litigant's room, placed in the verandah of the house in which he lives, and are there covered up and secured. One man who acts as a kind of herald then rises, and in a long speech, asks the litigant whether he is conscious he is in the right, and trusts in the justice of his cause; to which the latter replies at equal length in the affirmative, and refers the matter to the decision of the spirits. Several more speeches and replies follow, and the ceremony concludes by an invocation of justice. In the meantime, the respondent deposits and secures his stake with like ceremonial in the verandah of his own house; and early in the morning, both parties, accompanied by their respective friends, repair to the bank of the river to decide the contest. Either party may appear by deputy, a privilege which is always taken advantage of by women, and often even by men, for there are many professional divers who, for a trifling sum, are willing to undergo the stifling contest.

Preparations are now made: the articles staked are brought down and placed on the bank; each party lights a fire, at which to recover their champion, should he be nearly drowned; and each provides a roughly constructed grating for him to stand on, and a pole to be thrust into the mud for him to hold by. The gratings are then placed in the river within a few yards of each other, where the water is deep enough to reach to the middle; the poles are thrust firmly into the mud; and the champions, each on his own grating grasping his pole, and surrounded by his friends, plunge their heads simultaneously under water. Immediately the spectators chant aloud at the top of their voices the mystic, and perhaps once intelligible word lobon-lobōn, which they continue repeating during the whole contest. When at length one of the champions shews signs of yielding, his friends, with the laudable desire of preventing his being worsted, hold his head forcibly under water. The excitement is now great; lobōnlobōn increases in intensity, and redoubles in rapidity; | the shouts become yells, and the struggles of the unhappy victim, who is fast becoming asphyxied, are painful to witness. At length, nature can endure no more; he drops senseless in the water, and is dragged ashore, apparently lifeless, by his companions; while the friends of his opponent, raising one loud and prolonged note of triumph, hurry to the bank, and seize and carry off the stakes. All this, however, is unknown to the unhappy vanquished, who, pallid and senseless, hangs in the arms of his friends, by whom his face is plastered with mud, in order to restore animation. In a few minutes, respiration returns; he opens his eyes, gazes wildly around, and in a short time is perhaps able to walk home. Next day, he is in a high state of fever, and has all the other symptoms of a man recovering from apparent death by drowning. The result of the trial, whatever it be, is regarded as the verdict of a higher power, and is never questioned. Even in cases where the loser knows he is right-when, for example, a man is unjustly accused of theft, and conscious of innocence, appeals to the ordeal, and loses his cause-he never thinks of blaming the decision, but attributes his defeat to some sin, for which the superior powers are now inflicting punishment.

I may here mention a method of divination employed by the malos, or tinkers, of Borneo, a race who, from their skill in working metals, travel and are welcomed almost everywhere, and by whom-for they are the most superstitious race with whom we have come in contact are told stories wild as any in the Arabian Nights. In a case of theft which happened at Banting, suspicion was divided among three persons, and the principal malo man of the place, by name Ramba, undertook to discover which of them was the culprit. For this purpose, he took three bamboos, partially filled with water, and, assigning one to each of the suspected persons, arranged them round a fire with mystic rites and barbaric spells, in the full belief that the bamboo assigned to the culprit would be the first to eject a portion of its contents by ebullition. One of them at length did so, and it so happened that it was the bamboo assigned to him against whom the little evidence that could be collected bore hardest. Shortly afterwards, another also boiled over, while the third would not do so at all. The possessor of the first was accordingly declared by Ramba to be the culprit, while the possessor of the last was declared to be certainly innocent. Fortunately for the credit of the Dyaks, they would not act upon the information thus obtained; and unfortunately for the credit of the diviner, it was afterwards discovered that he whose bamboo would not boil over was the thief.

Next to the chiefs, the most important class among the Dyaks are the mannangs, who combine the functions of doctor and priest, and who are in great request in

all cases of public or private calamity or rejoicing. They are composed of both sexes, some of the males being dressed as women-an innocent relic of some forgotten custom. Mannangs marry and work at their boats, houses, and farms, in all respects like other Dyaks, from whom they would be undistinguishable, except when employed on important occasions for their services, for which they are paid. Many of the candidates for admission into the fraternity are blind, and choose it as a profession; while others are tempted by ambition. Mannangs, however, are not held in much respect; they are looked upon in a great measure as a set of pretenders, whose principal object is to extract money from those who employ them; and are regarded as the degenerate descendants of a former race of powerful ghost-expellers, soul-compellers, prophets, priests, and healers of bodily ailments, whose mantles have not fallen upon their successors. I cannot describe from my own knowledge the manner of making a mannang, as I purposely avoided witnessing it, but I believe the ceremony to be as follows: A number of mannangs assemble at the house of the candidate's father, and seating themselves in a circle, with the candidate in the centre, one of them begins a low monotonous and dreary chant, which it is most dismal and irritating to be compelled to listen to, while the rest at stated intervals join in chorus. This portion of the ceremony takes place in the presence of a large number of spectators, who on its conclusion are excluded from the room, and the subsequent initiatory rites are performed in private. The door is shut, the apartment is darkened, and a solemn silence prevails; a fowl is sacrificed, and its blood sprinkled around the room. The head of the candidate is 'split open' with a sword, in order that his brain may be cleansed from that obtuseness which, in the generality of mankind, precludes the knowledge of future events. Gold is placed in his eyes, to enable him to see the spirits; hooks are inserted into his fingers, to enable him to extract, from the bodies of the sick, fish-bones, stones, and other foreign substances; and his senses generally are in like manner supernaturally strengthened. He then emerges a perfect mannang; and in order to complete his education, requires only to be taught the tricks and chants of the brotherhood.

The custom the Dyaks have of head-hunting has been frequently mentioned; but I am not aware that any account has as yet been given of the ceremonial attending the capture and storing up of the trophy. When a head has been taken, the brains are removed, and the eyeballs punctured with a parang, so as to allow their fluid contents to escape. If the boat in which the fortunate captor sails is one of a large fleet, no demonstrations of success are made, lest it should excite the cupidity of some chief; but if she has gone out alone, or accompanied only by a few others, she is decorated with the young leaves of the nipu palm. These leaves, when unopened, are of a pale straw colour, and, when cut, their leaflets are separated and tied in bunches on numerous poles, which are stuck up all over the boat. At a little distance, they present the appearance of gigantic heads of corn projecting above the awning of the boat, and amongst them numerous gay-coloured flags and streamers wave in the breeze. Thus adorned, the boat returns in triumph; and the yells of her crew, and the beating of their gongs, inform each friendly house they pass of the successful result of their foray. din is redoubled as they approach their own house. The shouts are taken up and repeated on shore. The excitement spreads: the shrill yells of the women mingle with the hoarser cries of the men, the gongs in the house respond to those in the boat, and all hurry to the wharf to greet the victors. Then there is the buzz of meeting, the eager question,

The