from end to end; European and native rulers work harmoniously together; and
life and property are as well secured as in the best governed states of Europe. I
believe, therefore, that Java may fairly claim to be the finest tropical island in the
world, and equally interesting to the tourist seeking after new and beautiful
scenes; to the naturalist who desires to examine the variety and beauty of
tropical nature; or to the moralist and the politician who want to solve the
problem of how man may be best governed under new and varied conditions.
The Dutch mail steamer brought me from Ternate to Sourabaya, the chief
town and port in the eastern part of Java, and after a fortnight spent in packing
up and sending off my last collections, I started on a short journey into the
interior. Travelling in Java is very luxurious but very expensive, the only way
being to hire or borrow a carriage, and then pay half a crown a mile for post-
horses, which are changed at regular posts every six miles, and will carry you at
the rate of ten miles an hour from one end of the island to the other. Bullock
carts or coolies are required to carry all extra baggage. As this kind of travelling
would not suit my means, I determined on making only a short journey to the
district at the foot of Mount Arjuna, where I was told there were extensive
forests, and where I hoped to be able to make some good collections. The
country for many miles behind Sourabaya is perfectly flat and everywhere
cultivated; being a delta or alluvial plain, watered by many branching streams.
Immediately around the town the evident signs of wealth and of an industrious
population were very pleasing; but as we went on, the constant succession of
open fields skirted by rows of bamboos, with here and there the white buildings
and a tall chimney of a sugar-mill, became monotonous. The roads run in
straight lines for several miles at a stretch, and are bordered by rows of dusty
tamarind-trees. At each mile there are little guardhouses, where a policeman is
stationed; and there is a wooden gong, which by means of concerted signals may
be made to convey information over the country with great rapidity. About every
six or seven miles is the post-house, where the horses are changed as quickly as
were those of the mail in the old coaching days in England.
I stopped at Modjo-kerto, a small town about forty miles south of Sourabaya,
and the nearest point on the high road to the district I wished to visit. I had a
letter of introduction to Mr. Ball, an Englishman, long resident in Java and
married to a Dutch lady; and he kindly invited me to stay with him until I could
fix on a place to suit me. A Dutch Assistant Resident as well as a Regent or
native Javanese prince lived here. The town was neat, and had a nice open grassy
space like a village green, on which stood a magnificent fig-tree (allied to the
Banyan of India, but more lofty), under whose shade a kind of market is