The Irish standard., 1899-11-18
What Martin Dooley Says of His
Imperial Highness.
A POWERFUL ALLY OF WIN. M'KINLEY
Interesting Description of the
Potentate's Palace.

Accompanied by Nubian, who acted
as interpreter, three American newspa-
per correspondents recently called at
the palace OF the Sultan of Sulu in
Maibun to interview the oriental ally
OF President Mckinley. One OF them
gives the following account OF their
visit:
The Nuban had long coniab with
the natives and then refused to escort
us, saying that the Sultan must send for
us before we could go. Submitting to
this unexpected piece OF etiquette, we
were led to the market place, and after
an hours weary waiting it was with a
feeling OF relief that VIC saw the sccrc-
tary OF the Sultan, Hadji Butu break
through the crowd that surrounded us,
and he led us away, as we hoped, to
the palace of the Sultan Our hopes,
however, were again disappointed; roy
atty is not easy OF approach, even in
Sulu. We were taken to the house of
the Arab, one OF the peace commission
ers who came to Jolo to confer with
General Bates. The secretary asked Our
errand, and VIC explained as best we
could-tryng to meet the needs OF the
native mind-what an American news
paper is
There arc some Datos in America
who have such Il great following that
they cannot communicate to it by word
OF mouth, and are obliged TO publish a
great letter every day, telling their peo-
pie all about things. We have been
sent out by these powerful Datos to tell
the American people OF His Most High
and Royal Highncss the Sultan"
Our Arab host opened his eyes with
wonder, but the secretary OF the Sultan
looked wise and waved his hand. Yes,
he understood all about it, and would
explain to every one all about America
some other time At present he would
go to the Sultan and tell him OF ohr
mission.
At last we were ushcred into the lower
story OF the house. 1t consisted OF one
large room. perfectly bare OF dccora-
;ions or ornaments Of any kind. Some
thing between ladder and stairway
led to the upper story. There was only
one chair in the apartment. After we
had waited half an hour in this room
the secretary assured us that this was
not the Sultan's palace, but only poor
house where the Sultan would come to
see us. This bluff we swallowed with
grin.
Soon the Sultan's body guard arrived,
half dozen Sheiks discharged from the
service of the North Borneo Company,
fine fellows whose military salute and
bearing showed British training.
Women with very little clothing came
in and out of the room doing house.
work; very dirty little children (whethcr
they were future Sultans we we're not
told) played on the floor
There was another delay. The Sultan
was washing and changing his clothes,
explained the secretary At last we
we're taken upstairs. 1t seems that his
majesty had been in the house all the
time. There, at the end OF covered
balcony, he sat, ready to receive us. 1t
is not every day that one enters the
presence OF royalty Certainly our
hearts beat more rapidly as we advanced
to shake hands. Our Nubian salaamed
profoundly, kissed the Sultan's hand and
grinncd from car to car with delight
To the uninitiatcd there was nothing
in the appearance of the Sultan to pro-
duce this Joy in Our worthy interpreter.
His dumpy figure was clothed in what,
Tor want Of a better word, one might
call an ordinary white nightgown.
About his head was wound white silk
turban, embroidered with gold. Never
did the term "ctucklc-headcd' find a
more appropriate application.
The Sultan's head was round, his eyes
we're weak and watery, his face was
pockmarkcd, his complexion fabby,
unhealthy brown. his whole expression
one OF weak emptiness. He smiled va
cantly as we approached. "Mac" and I
bowed in something between salaam
and handsfake. Boston," however,
was disgusted; he shook hands with
great GOODNESS and an extreme rigidity
Of spine. We all sat down, and the
Sultan stared vacantly at us. Then be-
gan struggle with our Nubian inter-