I have more than once met with river boatmen, who, when the word buaya (alligator) was mentioned, even in the course of casual conversation after camping for the night, would drop what- ever they might have in their hands and retire cowering to the cover of the nearest kajang.
I have enquired into every case of this description which came under my notice, and in no ease could I learn that the man bad any special reason for his terror in the way of a personal experience. His friends explained that he was latah, and that to them explained everything.
On one occasion, after a curious exhibition of this description, I shot an alligator on the bank next morning. The latah was, Lo my surprise, the first to approach the saurian. Against my earnest entreaties, he proceeded to pull the creature about, and finally forced its mouth open with a piece of firewood.
His persecutors, his fellow-boatmen, stood at a respectful distance.
An hour afterwards, as he was poling up the river, one of the crew called out to this man buaya! He at once dropped his pole, gave vent to a most disgusting exclamation, and jumped into the river an act which shewed that his morbid terror was quite unconnected with what might be supposed to be its exciting cause.
More than one man have implored me not to mention the word harimau (tiger), and more than one have gone nearly insane with terror when the word ular (snake) was spoken "at" him.
In each case of this description, my Malay companions solved my perplexity, at times very great, by saying "dîa latah, tuan."
Similar cases must be familiar to many who read this Journal, but the instance I have quoted of the man who became limp and nerveless from terror at the mention of the word buaya and who afterwards was the first to handle a buaya, of whose death no one was assured, presents a curious mental contradiction, of which I await the explanation.
I may add that a pawang (medicine-man) who exhibited extreme distress at my mention of the word "tiger," was one of the few
