. A naturalist's wanderings in the Eastern archipelago; a narrative of travel and exploration from 1878 to 1883. d every man brandishing a long spear in the one hand anda kriss in the other, all looking very scared. The tiger of theprevious day had come after his unburied quarry, as theyfirmly believed and asserted against my doubts that he would,and had actually ventured into the middle of the village, andwithin thirty feet of my door which stood next to the housecontaining the dead body. The clamour had frightened itoff into the impenetrable jungle which closely hedged roundthe village, whit
. A naturalist's wanderings in the Eastern archipelago; a narrative of travel and exploration from 1878 to 1883. d every man brandishing a long spear in the one hand anda kriss in the other, all looking very scared. The tiger of theprevious day had come after his unburied quarry, as theyfirmly believed and asserted against my doubts that he would,and had actually ventured into the middle of the village, andwithin thirty feet of my door which stood next to the housecontaining the dead body. The clamour had frightened itoff into the impenetrable jungle which closely hedged roundthe village, whither I could follow it only a very short way. As we re-entered the village the body of the youth wasbeing brought out for burial amid terrible wailings of thewomen. It was sewed into a thick grass mat, on the top ofwhich were spread flowers of the cocoa and pinang palms, andover which, as it was borne away, handfuls of yellowed rice werethrown. The villagers fell in behind the body, each manwith a spear over his shoulder, their tips glittering in thesun like a regiment of bayonets, for fear of another sudden. JIT COLLECTOR KTLLED BY A TIGER. IN SUMATRA. 223 attack. The grave was made deeper than usual, and wellprotected on the top, as they affirmed that the ti«-er wouldcertainly try to scrape up the body. The lamentations of thewomen, which were terrible to hear as the body was takenaway, continued till the return of the people from the funeral,and then entirely ceased. It is difficult to learn whetherthese were really bitter mournings, or merely the following oftheir custom. The event, however, cast a visible gloom overthe village, and I felt relieved when it returned to its moreordinary ways. For several nights after the funeral the fatherof the youth, sitting by himself alone in his house, chantedfrom sundown till daybreak what they call the Tjerita hari,or death dirge, a most plaintive lament; and to me it seemedthe most saddening, woe-laden wail I had ever heard, risino-an
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