In the cover there were three enclosures: a formal letter of extreme politeness, written by a scribe, the Arabic characters formed as precisely and clearly as though they had been printed. Secondly, a letter written in my friend’s own hand, also in the Arabic character, but the handwriting is very difficult to decipher. And thirdly there is another paper, headed “Hidden Secrets,” written also in the Sultan’s own hand. The following is a translation of the beginning of the second letter. At the top of the first page is written, “Our friendship is sealed in the inmost recesses of my heart.” Then this: “I send this letter to my honoured and renowned friend” (here follow my name, designation, and some conventional compliments). The letter then continues: “You, my dear friend, are never out of my thoughts, and they are always wishing you well. I hear that you are coming to see me, and for that reason my heart is exceeding glad, as though the moon had fallen into my lap, or I had been given a cluster of flowers grown in the garden called Bĕnjerâna Sri, wide-opening under the influence of the sun’s warm rays. May God the Most Mighty hasten our meeting, so that I may assuage the thirst of longing in the happy realisation of my affectionate and changeless regard. At the moment of writing, by God’s grace, and thanks to your prayers, I and my family are in good health, and this district is in the enjoyment of peace; but the river is in flood, and has risen so high that I fear for the safety of the bridge.”
There is more, but what I have quoted is enough to show you the style. When the savage has turned from his savagery he will write “Dear sir,” and “Yours truly”; his correspondence will be type-written, in English, and the flaxen-haired lady will remark with approval that the writer is a business man and a Christian, and hardly black at all.
Whilst the Malays are still in my mind, it may interest you to know that they have a somewhat original form of verse in four-line stanzas, each stanza usually complete in itself, the second and fourth lines rhyming. The last two lines convey the sense, while the first two are only introduced to get the rhythm, and often mean nothing at all. Here are some specimens which may give you an idea of these pantun, as they are called, though in translating them I have made no attempt to give the necessary “jingle.”
“A climbing bean will gain the roof;
The red hibiscus has no scent.
All eyes can see a house on fire;
No smoke the burning heart betrays.
Hark! the flutter of the death’s-head moth;
It flies behind the headman’s house.
Before the Almighty created Adam,