The forests and gardens of Borneo are remarkably rich in native and naturalised kinds of edible fruits, and the forests especially may be considered as the home of the mangosteen, durian, tarippe or trap-fruit, langsat, rambutan, and jintawan, all excellent, indeed unapproachable, in their way, but if one would enjoy them a journey to the East is unfortunately necessary. They are somewhat like our own luscious jargonelle pears or green gage plums, and must in a sense be “eaten off the tree.” The mango, one of the finest and most variable of Eastern fruits, has been successfully cultivated in the West Indian Islands, St. Michael’s, and Madeira, and has fruited out-of-doors at Lisbon, but those we have named above have hitherto resisted culture outside their own restricted habitats, if we except the solitary instance in which the mangosteen fruited in one of the hothouses at Sion House some years ago, and the trees introduced to the island of Ceylon, which have succeeded fairly well. Another extremely useful and variable fruit, the banana, is quite commonly ripened in our gardens, and with the pine-apple these may be accounted the only tropical fruits which lend themselves to anything approaching a regular system of successful culture in our hothouses at home. Our ordinary cultivated fruits are naturally found in temperate or inter-tropical countries—Europe or the cooler parts of Asia principally; and of all those cultivated in the open air of Southern Europe, such as the vine, fig, and orange, the latter is the only one which can be induced to prosper in the tropical lowlands of the far East, where its evergreen character enables it to hold its own while its deciduous neighbours seem to fail through over-excitement, the loss of their customary winter’s sleep.

On the other hand the pine-apple of South America, the mango of India, and the delicious little Chinese or mandarin orange, here luxuriate in the open air, the mango yielding two crops in twelve months, while fruit of the others may be obtained all the year round. In some favoured districts in Malaya the forests almost become orchards on a large scale, so plentifully are they stocked with durian, baloona, mambangan, varieties of tampoe, luing, and other native fruits, in addition to those already named; and in many places the pine-apple is so abundantly naturalised as an escape from cultivation that one might almost be led to imagine it indigenous did we not know that, together with the white guava, the papaw, and cashew-nut—a trio forming the “weeds” among tropical fruits—it is a native of the western tropics. So abundant are the crops in some seasons that one cannot help regretting their perishable nature, by reason of which their shipment to Europe in a fresh state is prevented; and as to their preservation in the form of candied confections or “jam” no one seems to have taken up the matter. Fancy a conserve of snowy mangosteen pulp, preserved mangoes, candied rambutan, or banana marmalade. The late Dr. Lindley once said, in his usual incisive way, that “most tropical fruits were edible,” but that “very few were worth eating;” but then the probability is he had never tasted a mango or a mangosteen, a tarippe fruit, or the deliciously rich apricot-like pulp which surrounds the seeds of the caoutchouc-yielding willughbeias, and certainly not a durian.

The mangoes, oranges, bananas, pomoloes, and pine-apples are all cultivated fruits in the East, just as are our best gooseberries, strawberries, apples, pears, and grapes at home; but on the other hand we have no wild fruits which can in any way be compared with the durian, jintawan, langsat, trap, tampoe, mangosteen, and rambutan, all of which are more truly wild in the Malay islands than are the so-called wild cherries, gooseberries, currants, and raspberries of our woods. It is to the tropics one must go for a drink of fresh cocoanut milk—a taste of the fascinating durian, for a luscious mango, or the delicious mangosteen; and while in the matter of flowers our cultivators at home certainly have the advantage, in the case of fruits this much can scarcely be said.

The regal durian (Durio zibethinus), like the finest of nectarines or melting pears, must be eaten fresh and just at one particular point of ripeness, and then it is, as many think, a fruit fit for a king. So highly is this vegetable-custard valued that as much as a dollar each is not unfrequently paid for fine specimens of the first fruits of the durian crop brought into the Eastern markets. It is a universal favourite both with Malays and Chinese, but the opinions of Europeans vary as to the merits of this “delectable epitome of all that is perfect in fruit food.” It is a paradox, “the best of fruits with the worst of characters,” and, as the Malays say, you may enjoy the durian, but you should never speak of it outside your own dwelling. Its odour—one scarcely feels justified in using the word “perfume”—is so potent, so vague, but withal so insinuating, that it can scarcely be tolerated inside the house. Indeed Nature here seems to have gone a little aside to disgust us with a fruit which is perhaps of all others the most fascinating to the palate, when once one has “broken the ice,” as represented by the foul odour at first presented to that most critical of all organs of sense, the nose. As a matter of course, it is never brought to table in the usual way, and yet the chances are that whoever is lucky enough to taste a good fruit of it to begin with, soon develops into a surreptitious durian eater; just as a jungle tiger becomes a “man-eater” after its first taste of human blood.

There is scarcely any limit to durian eating if you once begin it; it grows on one like opium smoking, or other acquired tastes; but on the other hand, the very suggestion of eating such an “unchaste fruit” is to many as intolerable as the thoughts alone of supping off cheese and spring onions, washed down with “stout and mild,” followed by a whiff from a short “dudeen” by way of dessert, and yet, while these incongruities are consumed at home with enjoyment, one must not be too hard on those abroad who relish the fragrant durian. About the middle or end of July durian fruit are very common in Singapore, and their spiny skins lie about the streets in all directions. As you pass along you become aware of a peculiar odour all around you—an odour like that of a putrid sewer when half suppressed by holding a perfumed handkerchief to the nose—a blending of a good deal that is nasty with a soupÇon of something rather sweet and nice. On opening a fruit for yourself, however, you find that the perfume, like that of the musk plant, ceases to be evident after you have once had a fair whiff at it at close quarters. The flavour of the straw-coloured, custard-like pulp which surrounds the four or five rows of large chestnut-like seeds is perfectly unique: to taste it, as Wallace tells us, is “a new sensation, worth a journey to the East to experience;” but much depends on a good fruit being obtained when perfectly, not over ripe. You then find the pulp sweet, rich, and satisfying; it is indeed a new sensation, but no two persons can agree as to the flavour—no two descriptions of it are alike. Its subtle action upon the palate—and perhaps this best explains the unceasing popularity it enjoys—is like the music of a well-played violin on the ear, rich, soothing, sweet, piquant. The flavour of durian is satisfying, but it never cloys; the richness seems counteracted by a delicate acidity, the want of grape-like juiciness is supplied by the moist creamy softness of the pulp as it melts away ice-like on your tongue.

It is said that the best of whisky is that made by blending several good kinds together, and Nature seems to have blended four or five good flavours together when she made the durian. “A macÉdoine of fruits,” says a modern author, “when well made and judiciously flavoured, is a delicious sweetmeat. The grape, the peach, the apricot, and the pine, meet in welcome harmony; the pear, the apple, and the cherry, and their friendly companionship, and all these opposing elements of flavour are blended with a soft and soothing syrup.” In a word, the durian is a natural macÉdoine—one of Dame Nature’s “made dishes”—and if it be possible for you to imagine the flavour of a combination of corn flour and rotten cheese, nectarines, crushed filberts, a dash of pine-apple, a spoonful of old dry sherry, thick cream, apricot-pulp, and a soupÇon of garlic, all reduced to the consistency of a rich custard, you have a glimmering idea of the durian, but, as before pointed out, the odour is almost unmentionable—perfectly indescribable, except it be as “the fruit with the fragrant stink!”

The fruit itself is in size as large as a Cadiz melon, and the leathery skin is protected by sharp broad-based spines very similar to those of a horse chestnut. The name durian, in fact, is derived from these—the word duri in Malay meaning a spine or thorn. There are many varieties in the Bornean woods, some but little larger than horse chestnut fruits, and having only two seeds; others larger, but with stiff orange-red pulp, not at all nice to eat, however hungry you may be; and even the large kinds, with creamy pulp and many seeds, vary very much in flavour. The trees are monarchs of the forest, as a rule varying from seventy to one hundred and fifty feet, or even more, in height, with tall straight boles and spreading tops, and the foliage is oblong acuminate, dark green above, paler and covered with rufous stellate hairs or scales below. The fruits of the finer varieties fall when ripe, and accidents sometimes happen.

I saw a native who had the flesh torn from his shoulder by a blow from one of these armed fruits, and saw several narrow escapes, but personally I gave the trees a wide berth at fruiting time. Some varieties, especially the “durianburong,” or wild-bird durians, do not shed the fruits, which hang on the branches until the valves open, when the seeds fall to the ground, or are eaten by hornbills and other large fruit-eating birds and monkeys. I saw some magnificent specimens of durian trees in the Bornean forests north of the capital, and also in other Malayan islands, where the forests had been cleared for cultivation, and these trees left standing for the sake of their produce. Their clusters of large white flowers are produced about April, and form a great attraction to an enormous species of semi-diurnal bat, a kind which is said to be one of the greatest pests of Eastern fruit-groves. It is from cultivated trees that the finest of fruits are obtained; and, without exception, the best fruits I ever saw or tasted were from a tree in the grounds of Government House, Labuan. It does well in Sumatra, Java, Celebes, and the Spice Islands, and even as far north as Mindanao. Forests of it exist on the Malay peninsula, and very fine fruit is brought to Singapore from Siam about July or August. On the coast of the Bay of Bengal it grows as far north as Tenasserim, in lat. 14° N., but it does not succeed well in India, and cannot be grown in the West Indies. In Sumatra groves of this tree exist near the Palembang River, and in the primÆval forests there are specimens fully 150 feet in height, the fruits being in perfection about September and October; but two crops are produced each year, and throughout the Archipelago one finds its seasons of ripening to be very various.

There are many different varieties, doubtless the result of promiscuous seeding, or, perchance, cross-fertilisation, and one variety actually produces flowers and fruit on its exposed roots.

Of all Eastern fruits the mangosteen is perhaps the general favourite with Europeans, and of all fruits it is one of the most delicious and refreshing. It flourishes in nearly all the islands from the south coast of Java to Mindanao, the most southern of the Philippine group, and on the mainland it flourishes as far as Bangkok, and in the interior to 16° N., but on the coast of the Bay of Bengal only to 14° N. Attempts to cultivate it in India have failed, and in Ceylon success is only partial. In the West Indies all attempts to grow it have proved abortive. In Borneo trees are not uncommon in the forests, but the fruits generally are below the average size, the divisions within are fewer—rarely more than four—and each segment of pulp contains a fully developed seed. When cultivated in richly-manured gardens or orchards, however, as in Penang or Singapore, not only are the fruits larger and the carpellary divisions more numerous, but rarely more than one perfect seed is found in each fruit, the remaining segments consisting of edible pulp only. Similar effects may be observed in the case of the rambi and duku, or langsat fruits, and the best of cultivated mangoes are remarkable for their thin and comparatively small stones, while the edible part on the other hand is much augmented. Under cultivation the mangosteen forms a low round or conical-headed tree, its dark leathery evergreen foliage reminding one of that of the Portugal laurel, only that it is of a bolder character. The waxy-petaled flowers are borne near the extremities of the branches, and are succeeded by round fruits, which, when fully ripe are as large as a medium-sized orange. On cutting the leathery dark purple rind transversely about the middle of the fruit, it is found to be of a port-wine colour in section, and encloses from three to six segments of snow-white pulp, cool and refreshing to the taste, and with a flavour which is something like that of the finest nectarine, but with a dash of strawberry and pine-apple added. It is one of the very few tropical fruits of which even delicate invalids may eat with advantage; and the dried rind, when infused in boiling-water and drank as tea, forms an astringent which has been proved serviceable in dysentery after all other medicines had failed. It is the general native remedy for this disease throughout the Malay Islands, and the dried skins strung on strips of rattan are commonly met with in the bazaars.

When exploring near the capital city of Brunei in North West Borneo I frequently came across a species of garcinia—sometimes in flower, sometimes in fruit—which my native followers called “Prada Prada,” the duplication of particular names being usual in Borneo, for the sake of emphasis, as also among various native tribes in South America and elsewhere. The foliage and flowers are somewhat like those of the mangosteen proper, the fruit, however, is curiously shaped like a boy’s “top,” and of a bright red colour, changing to purplish black when fully ripe. The segments of edible white pulp are usually eight in number—four containing fully developed seeds, and four are abortive or seedless—the flavour being similar to that of the mangosteen proper, but more acidulous.

Of the luscious mango, Rumphius tells us that it was introduced by the Dutch from the Moluccas to Java in 1655, but it grows in India, and as the Malay name and that of the Javanese as applied to this fruit are evident corruptions of that in the Sanskrit tongue, Mr. Crawfurd thinks that it was brought to the Archipelago from the Continent, and that it should not be considered as indigenous. Be this as it may there is no doubt that the mango has long been introduced to the Malay Islands, in many of which it is now perfectly naturalised, and a fruit exactly like the mango in structure is often found in the Bornean woods. It has the mango flavour of the most ultra tow and turpentine type, but its juice is very grateful during hot weather, as I can testify by experience. The cultivated mango forms a round-headed evergreen tree, rarely over fifty feet in height, and generally not much more than half that size. The old leaves are of a deep green colour, but the young growth is often of a bright red or crimson tint. The dense clusters of pea-green flowers are followed by lax-drooping clusters of kidney-shaped fruits which, when fully developed, vary from two or three to as much as six inches in length, and nearly half that in diameter in the broadest part. These fruits consist of a tough green skin and a coat of yellow pulp surrounding an oblong fibre-coated stone, to which the flesh adheres. In the Sulu isles the mango is abundantly naturalised, some of the trees being of large size. In Indian gardens the best kinds are perpetuated and increased by grafting, and this is also the case in Manilla, where the best varieties are equal, if not superior, to those of Bombay, the excellence of which is well nigh proverbial throughout the East. This tree is of robust constitution and regularly produces two crops every year, although at times the crops are very scanty, owing to heavy rains during the flowering season.

It is one of the Eastern fruits the culture of which is moderately successful in the gardens of the West—notably in Jamaica, and very fair samples of this fruit from the West Indies now and then make their appearance in Covent Garden from the Azores. The mango, like its more fastidious neighbour the durian, is one of Nature’s voluptuous productions, of which we have no representative in our gardens, although, so far us the mango is concerned, it might be cultivated successfully in our hothouses with but little more trouble and expense than that which attends the culture of pine-apples or bananas. There are varieties which fruit freely when only five or six feet high, and when only three or four years old; the greatest difficulty in the matter would be to secure the right sorts, which possibly might be had from Madeira, or even St. Michael’s, where fair crops are obtained when the seasons are propitious, and even in Europe proper fruits have been produced in the open air. This was in 1874 at Necessidades, near Lisbon, the residence of the King of Portugal, the tree—a dwarf one—bearing nine fruits about the size of ducks’ eggs.

Of varieties there is literally no end, a result doubtless brought about by indiscriminate propagation from seed. Some are small with tough skins, large stones, and fibrous pulp, with a strong turpentine-like flavour. Others are large, with thin stones, the skin being tender and the thick pulp quite soft, like that of a real BeurrÉ pear, the flavour being most luscious and delicate, without a trace of the turpentine-and-tow-like combination so marked in the case of inferior kinds. The flavours of the different fine varieties are most varied, much more so than in the case of our best pears, and two or three good mangoes before breakfast form a treat sure to be appreciated by a lover of good fruit, and much as I appreciate a good durian, the mango seems to me a far more delicious and refreshing fruit for general consumption under a hot sun.

The rambutan is a common fruit in Singapore, and is the produce of a pinnate-leaved tree, thirty to fifty feet in height, the hairy fruits being borne in clusters near the extremities of the branches. On the husk being removed the edible pulp is seen surrounding the solitary seed, and is of a white jelly-like consistency, with a brisk and refreshing sub-acid flavour. There are several varieties. The common one has a red outer husk, but there are yellow and purple skinned varieties of excellent flavour. The Malay name, “boi rambutan,” or hairy fruit, refers to the soft, thick hairs on the outer husk. Two other species grown in China afford fruits of a similar character, which, dried, are sometimes met with in this country under the name of “litchis.” The fruit is common in gardens or orchards throughout the Malay islands, and is quite wild in Borneo.

In Batavia it ripens in February and March, and is common in the streets of Singapore during July and August. In the forests of North-West Borneo it ripens in September, large basketsful of it being collected by the natives and brought in along with tampoe fruit, and occasionally mangosteen and fine durian. A basketful of this fruit at first sight reminds one of strawberries, it being singularly like them in size and colour.

The bread-fruit tree is frequently met with, but the fruit is not so much used by the Malays as it is by the natives of the South Sea Islands. Another member of the same group, the “nangka,” or Jack-fruit, is much more generally grown, and produces immense fruits, varying from ten to seventy-five pounds weight. Like the bread-fruit, it has a rough netted coating, the portion eaten being the golden pulp which surrounds the seeds. A smaller fruited, and altogether more delicate flavoured species, affords the “champada,” and the habit of the tree is much like the Jack-fruit, but the “champada” may be recognised by its leaves being hairy below, those of the Jack-fruits being smooth and glossy on both surfaces. This kind is liked both by Malays and Europeans.

The “tarippe,” or “trap,” is another allied fruit borne by a round-headed tree, having entire leaves much larger than the last, and hispid on both surfaces. They are also of a pale, rusty-green tint, and the fruits are borne near the extremities of the spreading branches, as in the bread-fruit, and not produced from the main branches or the bole of the tree, as in the case of the Jack-fruits and “champada.” This is the most palatable of all the bread-fruits, so far as my own experience goes, the pulp which surrounds the seeds being of a milk-white colour, and very soft and juicy. The husk consists of closely packed hispid spikes, pressed closely together, and amalgamated at the base around the pulp-coated seeds. In North-West Borneo this fruit is in perfection during August and September, and it is particularly abundant around the Dusun villages near Kina Balu.

The leathery coated seeds of all these species of bread-fruits are roasted and eaten by the natives in much the same way as are chestnuts here at home. All the species have india-rubber yielding tendencies, and their inner bark is tough and useful for various purposes.

The “jintawan,” or “manoongan” fruit, of which there are three kinds, is about the size of an orange, and very similar in colour, each containing from eight to twelve pulp-covered seeds.

The “tampoe,” or “tampui,” is another very common jungle fruit, of which but little appears to be known. There are three varieties—“tampoe shelou,” “tampoe putih,” and “tampoe baraja.” The two first named differ in the one having yellow pulp and the other white. The last is a smaller fruit, having four internal divisions instead of six, and the pulp is of a bright chestnut colour. The part eaten is the pulp surrounding the seeds, which is agreeably sub-acid and very refreshing, the pavia-like husks, and the seed themselves, being discarded. The tree is fifty or sixty feet in height, with dark green poplar-like leaves, and the fruits hang two or three together in lax clusters, the stalks being produced from the older branches. This fruit is eaten in large quantities by the natives; and the pulp mixed with rice and water, and afterwards fermented, affords them an intoxicating drink but little inferior to the “toddy” prepared from the cocoanut palm.

A fruit closely resembling the common “bilimbing” is found in the Lawas district, and is called “tampui bilimbing” by the natives. It is of a bright scarlet colour; and according to the native account it has large entire leaves, the fruits being borne on short few-flowered peduncles, which proceed from the main branches of the tree. The white pulp which surrounds the solitary seed is acidulous and pleasant.

Another jungle fruit, called “mandaroit” by the Kadyans, resembles a small “rambutan,” but the leathery husk is quite smooth. It may possibly be produced by a species of niphelium, and is very sweet and agreeable when perfectly ripe, the fruits being kidney-shaped, and but little larger than a blackbird’s egg.

“Rambeneer,” a still smaller, pale yellowish-green fruit, also has sweet flesh around a stone; but in this case the husk is mango-like, having a thin and tender skin, which may be eaten with the pulp.

The fruit known to the natives as “mamhangan” is as large as an ostrich’s egg, having a rough, brown skin, and when ripe the yellow flesh which surrounds a mango-like stone is rather agreeable as a juicy sub-acid accompaniment to a dish of plain boiled rice.

The “luing” is another edible fruit, but rarely seen even in its native woods. It is yellow, with brown markings, and rarely exceeds a pigeon’s egg in size. After the thick, leathery husk is removed, one finds a delicate white sub-acid pulp surrounding a small stone. It is rather viscid, with a slight flavour of turpentine. The albumen of the seed is similar to that of a nutmeg.

After the durian, one of the most esteemed of native fruits is, undoubtedly, the “langsat,” which is of a pale yellow or straw-colour, borne in short clusters of four or five together, on a somewhat fastigiate pinnate-leaved tree. The individual fruits are as large as pigeon’s eggs, the part eaten being the four or five segments of white gelatinous pulp within a tough, leathery husk. Of these rarely more than one contains a solitary seed, which, if tasted by accident, is found to be remarkably bitter. The seedless segments are always sweeter and more palatable than the others—indeed, this is the case generally, as exemplified in the mangosteen and rambi. In Singapore this fruit is known under the name of “duku.”

The “rambi,” when plucked from the stalk, is singularly like the langsat in shape, colour, and flavour. The tree, however, is more dwarf, having large entire leaves, and the fruits are borne in ropes of ten or fifteen together, on long drooping stalks. The covering of the fruit is straw-coloured, and tough like that of the langsat, but there are only three segments of pulp in each. The best I ever tasted came from the garden of the British Consulate at Brunei, but I think the “langsat” is preferable in point of flavour. The latter is very commonly seen in groves near the villages of the inland tribes; the “rambi,” on the other hand, is much less abundant, and I never met with it except in European gardens.

The “mangalin” of the Kadyans is a fruit very similar in general structure to the “jintawan,” and consists of ten or twelve pulp-covered seeds enclosed in an orange-like fleshy covering. The flavour is sweet, with a sub-acid after-taste.

The fruits of two kinds of jambosa, or rose-apples, are met with, but like the papaw, cashew-nut, and the apple-fruited guava, they are not esteemed of much account in a country so rich in really delicious kinds.

The sweet melons grown in Borneo are very poor indeed, but good water-melons may now and then be obtained, and are cool and refreshing in such a hot climate. All the members of the orange family do well, especially the delicious little lime, which is perfectly naturalised in many places, being with the dwarf bamboo one of the plants most commonly used for hedges. No cooling drink can possibly surpass that formed by mixing the juice of one of these deliciously perfumed limes in a tumbler of water with a little sugar, and as they keep well they are most valuable to the traveller in hot countries. Common oranges may be procured all the year round from gardens, as also may the small fruited “mandarin” variety, which is a near approach to the tangierine orange, now and then to be had in Covent Garden. It is rather a surprise to find that the oranges cultivated in the tropics have grass-green skins when perfectly ripe, the vivid “orange” fruit so familiar at home being there almost as great a rarity as a grass-green specimen to us in England.

Of all the orange tribe in the East, however, none can compare with the great-fruited pomolo, which under careful cultivation here attains to a state of perfection elsewhere unknown. The pomoloes, or shaddocks, brought to Covent Garden from the West Indian Islands and the Azores, are flavourless as a turnip when compared with the pomoloes of Bangkok or Labuan, or even with those of Northern China or Singapore. There are many varieties, differing much in aroma and flavour, but all are referable to the lemon-fleshed or pink-fleshed types; it is extremely difficult, however, to say which type affords the best variety. A well-grown pomolo is nearly as large as a child’s head, and unless its segments be very carefully divided when serving, the copious grape-like juice which escapes will almost swamp any ordinary dessert-dish, and the best sorts have quite a muscatelle-like flavour; and in addition to its other good qualities it may, like the orange, be kept for a considerable time without injury—so long, indeed, that pomoloes are frequently brought home to England from the Chinese ports in excellent condition. Two sorts of custard apples are commonly met with in Eastern gardens, but neither these nor the apricot-like pulp of the ubiquitous papaw are much esteemed where far better fruits are plentiful. The same remark applies to the “santoel” fruit, which externally resembles a wizened yellow-fleshed American peach, but it contains four stones surrounded by white sub-acid granular pulp, which clings to the stone as in mangosteen or rambutan. The tamarind is naturalised near villages and houses in many of the Eastern islands, its acid pulp being used in cookery, and by pouring boiling water over the pulp, and adding a squeeze of lime juice and a little sugar, a most refreshing fever-drink may be made.

Of palms the cocoanut is most plentiful, and of course the most generally useful. Its top, or heart, may be used as a delicious vegetable equal to asparagus, and the scraped albumen yields the milk so essential to blend or soften a well-made curry. The colourless water in the fresh young nuts is peculiarly valuable and grateful as a beverage, preferable where drinking water is in any way questionable; cocoa-nut oil being, moreover, one of the most valuable of Eastern palm products. The fruit of the “pinang,” or betel-nut palm is as essential to the Malay races as tobacco to our own, and even the fruit of the nipa, or “thatch” palm may be eaten. The astringent pulp which surrounds the seeds of several species of “rattan” palms is occasionally eaten for medicinal purposes. Perhaps one of the most singular of all wild fruits, however, is the “Bawang utan,” or wild onion fruit, which is not unlike a walnut in general appearance, but which is impregnated with such a decided alliaceous principle that a small portion of it grated forms an excellent substitute for the real esculent itself. Scientifically it is known as Scorodoprasum borneense. The foliage and branches of this tree when broken or bruised give off a strong alliaceous odour.

Last on my list, but by no means least amongst the tropical fruits of Eastern gardens comes the “pisang,” or banana, which here, as elsewhere wherever it is cultivated, is represented by many varieties, which differ in size of fruit, flavour, and other particulars. One of the most common varieties met with in the bazaars is “pisang amas,” or golden banana, the individual fruits of which are small, but of a bright golden colour and of excellent flavour. One of the most esteemed of all is “pisang rajah,” or king of bananas, a larger fruit, also of a deep golden colour, the flavour being very luscious. “Pisang hijau,” the green banana, is slender and angular, but the straw-coloured pulp is of a most exquisite flavour, and it is quite a favourite in Singapore, where the “rajah” variety is comparatively scarce. “Pisang kling” is a pale yellow kind, bearing large smooth fruits, and for eating with cheese this is one of the best, being less sweet than those just named. A large horned variety of banana is common in Borneo, called of the natives “pisang tandock,” the individual fruits being a foot long and two inches in diameter. The outer skin is green, changing to yellow when fully ripe, and this fruit is liked by those who do not relish the sweeter kinds.

These fruits are largely eaten by natives, and they may be cooked in a variety of ways. Banana fritters is a common Eastern dish, and stewed bananas in syrup are accounted delicious by lovers of sweet things, and pisang kling is really a nice substitute for bread when eaten with cheese.