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  FROM JUNGLE TO JAVA

  THE TRIVIAL IMPRESSIONS OF A
  SHORT EXCURSION TO NETHERLANDS INDIA.


  BY ARTHUR KEYSER,

  AUTHOR OF
  "OUR CRUISE IN NEW GUINEA," "CUT BY THE MESS,"
  "AN EXILE'S ROMANCE," ETC., ETC.


  [Publisher's Logo]


  THE
  ROXBURGHE PRESS,
  LIMITED,
  FIFTEEN, VICTORIA STREET,
  WESTMINSTER.




  CONTENTS


      I. A SELECT COMMUNITY                 1

     II. THE START                          7

    III. SINGAPORE                         14

     IV. ON THE WAY TO JAVA                19

      V. BATAVIA                           23

     VI. AN OFFICIAL CALL                  34

    VII. A CONCERT AT THE CONCORDIA CLUB   39

   VIII. CONCERNING THE LOMBOH WAR         44

     IX. BUITENZORG                        49

      X. CUSTOMS AND COSTUMES              56

     XI. AN UNTIMELY CALL                  62

    XII. A MODEL ESTATE                    66

   XIII. AMONG THE ROSES                   76

    XIV. GARVET                            84

     XV. BATHS AND VOLCANOES               89

    XVI. THE QUEST FOR A MOTHER            94

   XVII. THE QUEST CONTINUED. TJILATJAP    99

  XVIII. THE QUEST SUCCESSFUL. THE
           WODENA'S HOUSE                 109

    XIX. A VILLAGE HOME IN JAVA           115

     XX. BACK TO THE JUNGLE               120




FROM JUNGLE TO JAVA




CHAPTER I.

A SELECT COMMUNITY.


Mr. X., whose impressions and mild adventures I have undertaken the task
of editing, has asked me to narrow his personal introduction to such
limits as is consistent with the courtesy due to my readers, if haply I
find any. He prefers, as his pseudonym implies, to remain an unknown
quantity. I need only explain that he is an officer employed in one of
the small States of the Malay Peninsula, which are (very much) under the
protection of the Colonial Government of the Straits Settlements. The
latter, with careful forethought for their ease-loving rulers, appoints
officers to relieve them of all the cares and duties of administration,
and absolves them from the responsibility of a Government somewhat more
progressive in its policy than might commend itself to Oriental ideas,
if left without such outside assistance.

As the title intimates, Mr. X.'s duties compel him to make his home in
the jungle. The word has many significations in the East, where it is
often used to express a region remote from civilization, although
perhaps consisting of barren mountains or treeless plains. Mr. X.'s
jungle, however, is one realizing what it represents to the untravelled
Englishman. It is a land of hill and dale covered with thickly growing
forest trees, with here and there by the side of the rivers, which are
Nature's thoroughfares, or the main roads made by man, small oases of
cultivation. It is a beautiful country, with a climate which those who
live in it--and they are the best witnesses--declare to be healthy and
agreeable. And the members of the small community who form the European
population take a personal pride in the amenities of their beautiful
retreat, with its perennial verdure, and glory in their "splendid
isolation." Criticisms are resented, and suggestions of indisposition
due to climatic influence held to be little short of traitorous. So, as
may be imagined, it was a matter of no ordinary interest when X. not
only complained of being unwell, but also developed signs of a chronic
discontent. For X.--no Mr. was necessary in that little round-table
club--certainly was unwell. Of this there could be no doubt, and such a
condition of body was little short of an abuse of the privileges of the
place. But since he could give no real explanation of his feelings, and
only sighed vaguely when engaged in the daily preprandial game of
billiards at the club, it was thought best to ignore his new departure,
and to leave the subject severely alone.

However, the effect of this wise treatment was entirely ruined by the
arrival of the doctor, who bore the sounding official designation of the
Residency surgeon. This gentleman was wont to be sceptical in the matter
of ailments, limiting his recognition only to honest, downright illness
worthy of the attention of a medico whose name stood in front of a
formidable array of honourable letters, too numerous for him to mention.
But even really great people are not always strictly consistent, and
occasionally make small lapses from the straight path of precedent--and
so this man of science deigned to cast an eye of interest upon the
ailment of X. That it should be worthy of notice at all was enough for
the companions of the now much-appreciated invalid, but when the great
man added to his notice by bestowing a classical name, expressions of
sympathy knew no bounds, and the unwonted solicitude was almost more
than the sufferer could bear with the dignified attitude of conscious
merit fitting to the occasion. Something rather _distingue_ had happened
to the place, something quite new. A vulgar complaint was a subject for
reprobation and not sympathy, as casting discredit on this salubrious
retreat, but a malady composed of two words out of the Greek Lexicon
conferred a distinction perhaps unknown to, and to be envied by, the
larger communities beyond the pass. The matter was most seriously
discussed, and the decision arrived at that X. wanted a change. Not
exactly that a change would do him good, but because, when he came back,
the change, from the place he went to, to his happy home in Pura Pura,
would work wonders for his health. As the doctor endorsed the former
part of the verdict, rather modifying it by suggesting, that there were
few conditions of health when a change would not be beneficial to a
hard-worked official, there remained nothing but to select the spot to
which X.--his leave once granted--must go. It would never, of course, do
that he should go to Penang, or even to Hong Kong or Japan, such an
expedition would be too ordinary and commonplace. It was felt that X.
should do something worthy of the occasion, and show his appreciation of
the place he lived in by going to one as similar in respect of people
and scenery as could be found, and so, when the person chiefly
concerned, knowing what was expected of him, suggested Java, the idea
was accepted, and Java it was settled to be. And that night at the Club
there was a long sitting, and Manop, the patient barman, had to record
the disappearance of many extra "stengahs,"[1] as the matter was
discussed in all its bearings. Those of the community who had been to
Java recalled their experiences and recollections of that country,
rather to the annoyance of those others whose travels, though perhaps
more extended, had not led them in the same direction, and thus had to
accept the unwelcome role of silent listeners. However, goaded by long
endurance, one of the party, the scene of whose stories mostly lay in
the Antipodes, remarked that certainly when X. returned from Java he
must write a book about it, because if he had only half as much to
communicate as the present speakers, the book would be full of
information. This little sarcasm was entirely spoilt by being taken
literally, as it was at once decided that X. must write a book. Vainly
he protested that it would be impossible to write a book after only a
brief visit to a place, as he could only put into it what was already
known to others; his objections were over-ruled, and he was reminded
that only the other day, when H. E., the Governor, progressed (which is
the official rendering of travelled) through a neighbouring State (known
to those present only too painfully well, through many weary days spent
in the jungles while exploring and actually constructing the path over
which this "progress" was subsequently made), one of the party wrote a
book which announced the discovery of a newly found place, and even
went so far as to sniff severely at the presumption of those who had
undergone these early days of toil, because certain grateful pioneers
had named various landmarks after friends who had assisted them in the
first months of settlement. "If that State, which we know so well, was
discovered so recently," urged one of the speakers, "why not discover
Java?" "And as for a fortnight being too brief a time," suggested
another--"did the Progress take longer?" And thus, it being an unwritten
law in Pura Pura that the wishes of the community should be respected,
X. having now returned from leave, has commissioned a chronicler to
write about what he saw in Java, though it would be an easier task were
the latter allowed to write about the community. But that must not
be--at any rate now. Java is the theme--that, and no other.

    [Footnote 1: Local name for "peg."]




CHAPTER II.

THE START.


In the few days which elapsed before the due arrival of official
permission for X. to leave the jungle, it might have been observed that
he was changed. The hitherto sedate individual became fussy and worried,
and members of The Community agreed that he was "journey-proud"--a happy
expression used by one of the neighbouring Malay potentates when wishing
to describe _his_ feelings at a time of emerging from the security of
his own retreat. But there was much to do--clothes not looked at since
the distant days when they left those cities on the other side of the
pass, had to be inspected and all their lapses laid bare--moths had
eaten holes in most conspicuous places, and in others rats had,
literally, made their nests. The shirts were whitened shams, as they
lay, no more than so many "dickeys," in a row, for when unfolded it was
found that they had lost their tails, long since the prey of cockroaches
or bedding for the young of mice; collars, when severed from their
fray, were sadly diminished in height, and the overhauling of the boot
department revealed the fact that there was nothing that would bear a
more critical eye than that of "The Community." However, the best had to
be made of a bad job, and one Bo Ping, a stitcher in leather, certainly
did _his_ best in the matter.

Then an equal preparation was required for the wardrobes of Usoof and
Abu, the two followers selected to accompany X. upon his travels. This
entailed many visits from the local tailors, who spent long hours in the
back premises, accompanied by all their friends and relations--for in
Pura Pura, as amongst many other Eastern peoples, for one person at work
there are always ten looking on. Thus the interest in these proceedings
was not centred upon X.--to some he played quite a secondary part in the
matter, being merely an incident connected with the departure of Usoof,
who was going to Java, which was his birthplace--as all the world
knew--but which he had left years ago, when little more than a baby in
arms. Usoof was going home to find his relations and tell them all about
himself, and "Tuan"[2] X. happened to be going too. This being a fact
widely reported and discussed nightly far into the small hours of the
morning, while friends ate light refreshments of bread and sugar with
pink- syrups to wash them down, it is not to be wondered at
that X. began at last to feel that it was settled he was going
principally to search for Usoof's mother, who was possibly living in a
village somewhere in Java, her name unknown; indeed, her still being in
the land of the living was a matter of conjecture. This quest, however,
which obtained additional interest from the little that was knowable of
its object, is alluded to here, so that when it is subsequently related
how it led X. from the beaten track of tourists, there may be no
surprise, since it can be understood that it would have been impossible
for him to return to Pura Pura without some attempt to perform that
which was expected of him.

    [Footnote 2: Malay equivalent for Mister = Sahib.]

In due time arrived the document permitting X. to leave Pura Pura, and
the day of departure was fixed. Usoof and Abu had already gone on ahead
in a bullock cart with the luggage, and X. was to leave next morning.
Several of "The Community" kindly came to see the start and sat calm and
superior over their long "stengahs," while the intending traveller
endeavoured to compress into a quarter of an hour the final instructions
for the regulation of affairs in his absence. However, after writing
various little memos and giving many injunctions to the syces and
tenants generally, concerning the care of the horses, sheep, geese,
dogs, bears, tame storks, porcupines, and other live stock which
belonged to the household, the traveller mounted into his sulky, with
that sinking in the region of his heart which comes to all those
temporarily about to leave Pura Pura's secluded calm. And thus he drove
forth into the great populous world beyond. The first glimpse of it was
distant twenty-four miles, and reached after a drive through some of the
most beautiful jungle scenery imaginable. This oasis of civilization was
the capital of the State at whose port it was necessary to embark. Here
X. remained for the night, accepting hospitality from the kind doctor
who had looked upon his complaint and so scientifically localised and
named it. To one fresh from the jungle, this evening appeared full of
novelty and life, from the fact of there being strange faces present.
One of the party was a French Roman Catholic priest, known to all in the
various States as a man of practical good works and a congenial
companion. And there was also a gentleman of title--a visitor fresh from
England--who should have been called a globe-trotter had he not, in the
course of the meal, thanked Providence that he had come across none of
that genus in those localities. This gentleman, who rejoiced at the
absence of globe-trotters, was bound for such a variety of places in
such a short space of time that X. could only regard him with
bewilderment and envy. For while he had only undertaken his journey
after the mature consideration of a month, during which time the
correspondence concerning leave and medical certificates had assumed
proportions of official magnitude, this traveller carried with him all
the documents connected with his plans in the form of a piece of paper
on which was written exactly where he must sleep, lunch, and dine during
the ensuing fortnight. It would be interesting to know if this visitor
actually accomplished his task and saw all that he proposed in the time
allowed. Perhaps, when he gets home, _his_ community--the other titled
people--will put pressure on him to write a book, and satisfy our
legitimate curiosity.

On the following morning X. boarded the train on the railroad which
connects the capital with the sea. He found himself an object of
interest to the dwellers in those distant parts, not only as the fleshly
embodiment of the personality hitherto known as initials at the bottom
of official minutes, but as the champion who had not long since
descended from his mountain for the purpose of engaging the railway in
litigation, in consequence of his garments having suffered from sparks
on the occasion of his last venture in the train.

This case had excited considerable interest, and X. had made a
triumphant exit, as he drove away from the court with portions of
charred wardrobe packed in behind. During the present journey there were
no sparks, and the coast was reached without any incident which might
promise litigation. The party consisting of X., Usoof and Abu, embarked
on the s.s. _Malacca_, a fairly comfortable steamship with a kindly
captain. The sniff of the sea was delightful to the jungle-wallah, and,
freed from official chains, he reclined in a long chair feeling that all
his plans and preparations had at least a present good result. The only
incident of the voyage that remains in his memory is the fact that a
Chinese passenger sitting opposite at dinner drank a bottle of whisky
and a bottle of claret mixed, and appeared to suffer no subsequent
inconvenience. In the evening the ship lay off Malacca. There are few
more suggestive views than this one of twinkling lights, here and there
disclosing momentary peeps of that picturesque old town, peeps that
conjure forth visions of half forgotten stories of that place of many
memories, told, in the jungle by the flicker of the camp fire, by
Malays, adepts at relating tales handed down by their fathers.

Then the cool evening of a tropical climate, the sea glinting in silver
moonlit streaks around the ship, which throwing a huge shadow on the
water lies silently swinging to her anchor before the peering little red
stars of that solitary old-world city. Scenes such as these are some
compensation to many a home-sick exile.

Ah, well,--we must not get sentimental and out of tune, though the
snores of the whisky-claret Chinaman are particularly discordant.
However he passed--as happily passengers do--and so did the night and
the early dawn as the s.s. _Malacca_ approached the beautiful island of
Singapore (does everyone know it is an island?) Ask you another! Well,
can my readers say straight off what constitutes the Straits
Settlements, and which are islands? but never mind--skip this and hurry
on over the bracket, if an answer were really wanted the bracket would
not be there.




CHAPTER III.

SINGAPORE.


I see that X. has it in his notes that the first view of this city is
the most beautiful in the East--does he mean the approach, the view, or
the city. It perhaps does not greatly matter, but it is certain that he
recorded the fact that to a poor jungle-wallah like himself it seemed
very vast and full of life, as he dressed himself and prepared to
re-enter the world from which he had so long been absent. A gharry--a
close carriage on four wheels with a dirty-looking driver and a tiny
pony--now conveyed, or rather set forth to convey, the traveller to the
hospitable house of a certain distinguished general who resides in
Singapore.

Singapore is a city in which it is notoriously difficult to find one's
way about, as all the roads seem alike--they are all excellent--and so
do the houses. Had I not undertaken to tell you how X. went to Java, I
should like to stop and relate how once on this account the writer
dined at the wrong house--and dined well--while his host, whose name he
never knew, preserved an exquisite _sang-froid_ and never showed
surprise; but such egotistic digressions might possibly annoy X. who has
a right to claim the first place in this little history.

The driver apparently knew where no one as an individual lived, and
entirely relied on strange local descriptions known only to the native
inhabitants, therefore it was vain for X. to try and explain where he
wanted to go. It transpired from interrogations of passers by that no
gharry driver or Malay policeman had heard of the General or even that
such a personage existed--X. never told the General that--and thus the
gharry containing X., and the two which followed with the suite and
luggage, drove backwards and forwards puzzling people as they went, for
such twistings and turnings argued ignorance of locality, and ignorance
of locality meant a globe-trotter, and yet no mail steamer was in, and,
again, no globe trotter would be followed by two Malays. And presently
he again endeavoured to explain where he wanted to go in forcible
Malay--this made the problem more difficult--till the passers by, mostly
cooks going to market, gave it up as one too deep, or perhaps too
trivial, for solution. The morning drive thus lasted till Europeans
early for office appeared in their smart buggies and fast trotting
horses, and one of these magnates of commerce coming to the rescue, it
was explained to the gharry syce that the Commander of all the Forces
occupied a house where Mr. So-and-so used to live, after the celebrated
Mr. So-and-so had sold off his racing stud and given up the
house--"didn't the driver remember?" "Yes, was not Omad the chief syce"
to the gentleman alluded to? At this the driver exclaimed, "of course,"
and whipping up his pony, with a withering look at his face, which
implied "if only he had had the sense to tell me that before," he drove
direct to one of the largest and most imposing mansions of the town.

Saved from the hotels of Singapore, where bewildered travellers grumble
and strange-looking jungle-wallahs come down to drink, X. felt all the
half-dormant memories of civilization return to him, as, passing the
sentry, he entered the spacious hall and received a kindly welcome from
his host.

Having, as the books say, removed the traces of his journey, no very
palpable ones in this case, since washing is practicable and customary
on board s.s. _Malacca_, X. joined his host at breakfast and was
informed of the programme of the day--consisting of an afternoon drive,
dining out in the evening, and thence to hear the regimental band play
by moonlight in the gardens. What a gay place Singapore seemed to X.,
who nightly dined alone, and to whom the sound of a band was a memory of
bygone days--and a band by moonlight too. Yes, that also had memories
all its own. On moonlight nights he is wont to sit on the verandah and
listen to the drowsy monotonous singing of the Malays who dwell in the
villages below his hill. Very agreeable is that chanting sound as it
ascends, telling of companionship and content, although for that very
reason making the solitary European feel more solitary still. Native
servants have given him his dinner and left him to seek their own
amusement. He is a duty only, something finished with and put away for
the night, left solitary upon the broad verandah, half envying the
natives who can enjoy the moonlight in the society of their friends.

Here in Singapore X. need envy no one, for was he not to go out after
dinner and hear a band in the moonlight, and a band played by Europeans?
The reality equalled expectation, for moonlight in the beautiful gardens
of Singapore, with the _elite_ of society sitting in their carriages or
strolling along the grass by the lake would have been a pleasant evening
even to people more _blase_ than X., nor did that person enjoy it any
the less from catching sight of Usoof and Abu standing as lonely amongst
this mass of strangers as ever he was wont to feel when brooding in his
solitude at home, while they sang songs in the moonlight to their
friends.

The evening ended up with the glorious dissipation of supper at the
regimental mess. The immediate result of this outing was pleasure, the
subsequent one--probably the addition of another syllable to the
compound Greek word with which X.'s ailments had been identified.




CHAPTER IV.

ON THE WAY TO JAVA.


On the following day, remembering what was expected of him, X. hired a
gharry and proceeded to discharge all such obligations as etiquette
demanded from one in his peculiar official position. The first and
foremost of these was to inscribe his name in a book in the ante-room
of the office of the Colonial Secretary. The names in this book would
make interesting reading, and, thought X., probably become a source of
wealth could one take it into the smoking-room of a London club and lay
ten to one that no three people present could locate the places named
upon a map. Perak[3]--or as they would call it in the smoking-room,
Pea rack--Selangor, Pahang--called at home Pahhang--Jelebu, Sungei
Ujong--also Londonized into Sonjeyajang--and many others of
unaccustomed sound.

    [Footnote 3: Pronounced Perah.]

Official routine over (this should be semi-official routine, suggests
X., who fears that he may be held responsible for any error of the
writer, which may lead it to be supposed that he is arrogating to
himself any real Colonial Office rank)--however, it is difficult to be
so observant of nice distinctions--X. next paid a visit to Messrs. John
Little and Co. Every one who has been to Singapore has been to John
Little's, for it is better known to the dwellers in that city than even
Whitely to Londoners. Whitely has rivals, John Little has none. From
this famous provider of necessaries and superfluities to the hospitable
club is but a step, and there the traveller lunched. This club is the
meeting-place of all the prominent merchants in Singapore. The building
is a fine one, with a verandah overlooking the sea, and the members
always cordially welcome strangers and neighbours from the adjoining
peninsula. Having said this much I feel compelled to risk incurring the
displeasure of X., who will be credited with having told me, and add
that the company is better than the cooking. The quality of the fluids
and the quantity are without reproach, but the food!--that is one of the
things they manage better in the jungle.

In the afternoon the General was again as good as his word, and took his
guest for a drive, showing to his wondering eyes all the beauties of the
new water-works. The China mail had that morning come in, and this
favourite resort was dotted over with evident passengers, some of them
globe-trotters. What would the titled traveller have said had his
hurried steps taken him that way? In the evening His Excellency gave a
dinner party to twenty guests culled from the most select circles in
Singapore. To sit at table with so many Europeans would at any time have
been a new sensation to X., but to suddenly find himself one of such a
distinguished company was almost alarming in its novelty. However, being
happily situated by the side of Beauty, the situation expanded
generally, and had any member of The Community been watching, he might
have thought that X. was proving false to the creed that there was no
place like Pura Pura for a man to dwell in.

That which to the other diners was a matter of every day, to him was
both a present pleasure and a glimpse of the past.

It was, of course, quite hopeless to attempt to explain to anyone whence
he came, or where he lived, for the very name of Pura Pura was unknown
to them, and so it was necessary to pose as a passenger passing through
_en route_ to Java.

Some amongst the company had been to Java (including the host), and all
spoke in high terms of the civility to be found there.

In the morning the traveller took leave of his kind host, who left first
at 5.30 a.m. for some early little game of war, a description of which
would probably have been as vague to a civilian as would the
geographical position of Pura Pura, or the exact official status of X.,
to members of the company of the previous evening. The great soldier
having driven off in full uniform through a throng of salaaming menials
of various nationalities, X. entered his humble gharry, and, followed by
Usoof and Abu, drove to the Messagerie wharf. The steamer for Batavia
was the s.s. _Godavery_, which was in connection with the mails for
home. The cost of the passage is, perhaps, for the actual distance
travelled, the most expensive in the world. The time taken by the voyage
is thirty-six hours.




CHAPTER V.

BATAVIA.


The voyage on board the _Godavery_ resembled similar ones, with the
notable difference that the excellent cuisine made X. wish that the time
to be spent in transit were longer. The only people who were not
contented were Usoof and Abu, for each of whom their employer was paying
the sum of three dollars a night. These particular Mahomedans refused to
touch the food shovelled out to them, and to crowds of natives of all
colour and class--by the rough and ready Chinese servants, and towards
the end of the second day, having eaten nothing, they presented a very
woebegone and miserable appearance. However, a few more judiciously
placed dollars produced them a square meal of bread and tea, after which
they smiled.

There is perhaps no sensation so agreeable as the arrival in a strange
port. Thoughts and conjectures as to the possibilities that lie beyond
the landing place are innumerable, and fancy and anticipation are
equally strong. When the _Godavery_ steamed into Batavia it was still
dark and the rain was coming down in torrents. It all looked miserable
enough, but, once alongside the wharf, daylight began to appear and the
passengers trooped ashore. The station was more than a quarter of a mile
from the place of landing, and this distance the poor people had to
hurry along in the rain.

The unfortunate natives--carrying bundles containing their
belongings--were drenched to the skin. Also the European
passengers--less objects of pity, as only the portion of their wardrobe
actually worn was exposed to the rain--came in for a considerable share
of the moisture of that wet arrival. It is true there was a magnificent
covered way, but this was hopelessly blocked up with trucks and other
railway gear, which were, presumably, more susceptible to cold than the
passengers. The luggage was quickly and courteously passed by the Custom
House officials, and the travellers entered a luxuriously fitted
train--apparently a show train, as X. never met another like it in Java.

Arrival in Batavia town created a good first impression, as there were
no pestering crowds, as there are in Singapore, and there were many
carriages waiting for hire, all two-horsed and good.

The drive to the hotel was a long one, through the business portions of
the town, till the residential side was reached. Here detached houses
are situated alongside the principal road, on the other side of which
flows a canal, giving to the place an appropriate Dutch appearance.

The hotel was a most imposing building outside, with apparently
countless rooms, but the thing which immediately struck X. as something
uncommon was the fact that the floors of the apartments were level with
the ground and not raised as is the case in Singapore and the Peninsula,
and he felt feverish as he noticed it. The traveller was allotted a fair
sized room opening on to a court yard, with other rooms and other
openings to the right and to the left, and in fact all round him, and in
front of these rooms sat people in every stage of deshabille. There
seemed to be no privacy and what, perhaps, under the circumstances was
fortunate,--no shyness. X. however had not yet reached that point of his
observations, and, entering his room, he shut the door and ordered his
first meal in Java. This turned out to be a terrible repast, consisting
of a plate of cold clammy selections from the interior of some edible
beast, two cold hard-boiled eggs, three small cold fish roasted in
cocoanut oil, and something intended to resemble ham and eggs. This
first meal is mentioned in detail as it was but a foretaste of an
equally trying series. X. thought of Dagonet and that power of
description which, when relating dyspeptic woes, will compel the
sympathy of the hardiest feeder.

It did not take long to skim hastily over the surface of these
uninviting viands, and now X. turned his attention to the notices which
stared at him from every wall. These in many languages threatened all
travellers with penalties if, immediately after their arrival, they
neglected to obtain permission to reside in Netherlands India. After
reading this, X. lost no time in sending for a conveyance to drive to
the British Consulate. The gentleman who received him there was
extremely civil and gave him all the information in his power. It
appeared that if the traveller was anxious for facts about Java, the
officials of that country were equally so in requiring the same from
him, and he was obliged to fill in a printed form stating his age,
birthplace, residence and occupation, etc., and, when this was done, pay
one guilder and a half for his trouble. The next step was to go to the
Bank, and nothing could exceed the kindness with which he was received
at this place, and the thoughtful manager assisted the stranger to
decide