BENARES, _December 26th_: Benares is the sacred city of India, and the
river Ganges with the ghats is the point where thousands upon thousands
of worshippers congregate, coming from every point where Hinduism
prevails. We had anticipated revolting scenes, and were not
disappointed, as the superstition of the devotees, the grasping conduct
of the priests, and the disgusting practices in the name of so-termed
religion all contributed to that end. We arrived during the afternoon of
December 26th, going to the Hôtel de Paris. A drive was instantly
proposed, and we were taken to the Maharaja's palace, with grounds laid
out conventionally, the trees and shrubs representing peacocks and
animals of different kinds. The palace was spacious but tawdrily
furnished; it is noteworthy as being the home to which the Maharaja and
his family repair whenever they feel the approach of death; there is a
superstition among the Hindus that death must occur on the north bank of
the sacred river Ganges, in order to become a monkey after death
(monkeys are considered sacred); for if the demise occurs on the
opposite side of the Ganges, one would surely become a donkey.

We next turned toward the celebrated Monkey Temple, a pretentious but
inartistic structure of red sandstone, presided over by the monster wife
of Siva, the Goddess Kali, who is seated on an interior shrine and
almost terrifies the beholder by her demoniacal smile, her neck being
wreathed with skulls. The Goddess of Blood demands a daily sacrifice,
usually a goat and sometimes even a buffalo. At least twenty
terrible-looking priests were in attendance upon her when we arrived and
were ready to slay the inoffensive goat if money was forthcoming. We,
however, declined to witness such a spectacle. Monkeys, disgustingly old
and fat, were everywhere, and filled large trees surrounding the temple,
two hundred at least being visible. Beggars, mendicants, and priests
were abundantly in evidence.

In an attempt to throw some small coins to some children, I was nearly
crushed, the crowd closing around me and separating me from my party,
until a tall Brahman priest with a huge stick checked the mob and I
escaped, to be admonished by the Director of the party, who declared
that I must never repeat the experiment, however much my sympathies
might be drawn upon by the scenes that impressed me.

[Illustration: _Bathing ghat, Benares_]

[Illustration: _Burning ghat, Benares, where cremations occur_]

The following morning we proceeded at 7 A.M. to the scene of all others
in Benares, the bathing ghats. These are steps leading down from the
plateau to the river on the banks of the Ganges and extending a distance
of nearly three miles. Seated in a native small boat, we sailed
leisurely up and down for hours, watching the unusual spectacle. The
Brahman priests were everywhere (there being thirty thousand in Benares
who live on the offerings of the pilgrims), some seated under
umbrella-like canopies, some under tents, others bathing, and others
performing certain sacred offices for the devotees who had come hither
in state, on elephants or camels, by train or on foot, all intent on
securing an increase of religious zeal. The crowds bathing in the sacred
river are a continuous spectacle. There are piers built out into the
stream for convenience, filled with pilgrims of every hue and variety of
dress and undress, some simply wearing the loin cloth, which startled us
at first, but now seemed the legitimate outcome of a lean purse and a
hot climate.

In addition, there is a continuous refrain of voices in solemn
supplication to one or more of the many thousands of Hindu gods, for it
has been stated that there are two hundred thousand divinities in India.
At one point there is a burning ghat, and one morning we witnessed the
preparation for two cremations, one of a poor man and the other of the
wife of a Maharaja. The two ceremonies differed little, except that the
wood for the funeral pile of one cost a mere pittance, while the
sandalwood for the latter cost six hundred rupees. The corpse is carried
on a small litter, or bier, made of bamboo sticks (a man is robed in
white and a woman in red), and deposited in the Ganges, feet foremost;
care is taken that the whole body be immersed in order that purification
may be complete. The relatives arrange the pile of wood, about eight
logs being required. Then the body is transferred to the pyre, and the
torch is applied by one of the family, the others sitting solemnly
around in a circle. When consumed, the ashes are scattered in the river
Ganges. It is a gruesome spectacle, however much it may be in the
interest of sanitary science; but less so to me, who had witnessed the
distribution of the bodies at the Towers of Silence in Bombay.

It will be seen that the principal commodity in Benares is holiness; but
there is one creditable industry, namely, the manufacture of brass.
Several shops were visited, but we liked the modern styles less than the
old Benares brass with which we were familiar.

One thought was uppermost while in Benares; I had pondered over it
before in our visit to India. It was that with the masses Hinduism
to-day means superstition and idolatry, in spite of the fact that the
earlier teaching was of a pure character. That the cultivated Hindus
accept the practices and the priesthood is a mystery as subtle as the
law of caste or the iron law of custom. It is a depressing thought, and
causes a profound feeling of thankfulness that Providence placed us in a
fairer land.

[Illustration: _The Tope of Sarnath and the Jain Temple near Benares_]

The missionary effort of England, America, and other countries has for
years been directed toward changing the condition of the masses, but the
law of caste is such that, to use a set phrase, if a man become a
Christian, he is ostracized, even by the members of his own family,
unless they too follow his example. He is also ostracized as regards any
business he may follow, and the sacrifice he is forced to undergo seems
almost too great for human endurance. Still, according to missionary
reports, this sacrifice is frequently made, which is equivalent to true
heroism. Naturally, the progress of proselyting is slower in India than
in any other country of the Orient, but it is the consensus of opinion
that a greater extension of hospitals in charge of so-termed
missionaries and a greater extension of schools for the young are the
leaven that will work satisfactory results in the future. Another
reassuring sign is the establishment of the Central Hindu College at
Benares by Mrs. A.B. Besant, the Theosophist. This is intended to
elevate the Hindu youth, combining religious and moral education with
mental and athletic development. We saw only the exterior of the
building.

Four miles from Benares, at the site of the old Benares, called Sarnath,
is a most interesting ancient monument known as the Tope of Sarnath. It
is the best preserved of any in Bengal. It was erected in Deer Park to
mark the spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha. It was explored in
1835 and found to be a stupa; but containing no relics, it was evidently
intended to indicate the spot where Buddha first assumed his mission as
a teacher. The tope consists of a stone basement ninety-three feet in
diameter and solidly built of stone. Above the stone is brickwork rising
to a height of one hundred and twenty feet from the plain. The lower
story has niches evidently intended for a figure of Buddha, and below
this is a band of sculptured ornaments of great beauty; it is thought
from the evidences of ornamentation that in date it corresponds to the
best period of Delhi. There is an interesting temple in the vicinity,
and there formerly was a large Buddhist monastery. One also finds acres
of mounds and debris indicating a large Buddhist foundation in the days
when Buddha reigned supreme.

We left Benares for Darjeeling the evening of December 27th, and the
prospect of a glimpse of mountain scenery in the famed Himalaya
foothills, eight thousand feet above the sea, was exhilarating after the
depressing scenes behind us.

SILIGURI, _December 28th_: We arrived at Siliguri early the following
morning, December 28th, and were at once transferred to the Darjeeling
and Himalayan Railway (two-foot gauge with open cars), a triumph of
engineering skill on account of the sudden and wonderful curves which
continue from the beginning to the end and cause the famous Horseshoe
Curve of the Pennsylvania Railway to sink into insignificance. The
ride was exciting, as every bend revealed something new and startling.
Leaving the plain of Bengal behind us, which is a feature of interest,
we commenced the ascent; first through a jungle of cane and grass, both
very high, where tigers, leopards, bears, deer, and the like have their
home; and next through a forest with few familiar trees save the giant
oak. Higher up the graceful bamboo is seen, and still higher fruit trees
are plentiful; then small tea plantations appear, and a more peaceful
landscape. Another bold curve and the glorious snow-capped Kanchanjanga
range is in full view,--a perfect panorama, the atmosphere being clear
and the sky almost cloudless. It was one of the supreme moments of life.
We were now nearing Darjeeling, having made a gradual descent during the
last half-hour.

[Illustration: _A view of Darjeeling and the Kanchanjanga Range_]

DARJEELING, _December 28th_: The Woodlands Hotel, picturesquely situated
on the side of a lesser mountain, became our abiding-place for all too
short a time. Darjeeling is beautifully located upon a ridge, seven
thousand feet above water level. The mountain side is picturesque with
its sprinkling of villas and bungalows, tall mountains towering up as a
background. The average temperature is eighty degrees in summer and
thirty in winter; hence it is a favorite resort. There is a sanitarium
here, called "The Eden." The mountain views prove a great attraction;
the Kanchanjanga range is seen beyond the intervening mountains, with a
vast chasm in the foreground.

The Mall is the principal promenade, and winds around Observatory Hill,
from which fine glimpses of the country are to be obtained. In the
vicinity is St. Andrew's Church, with interesting tablets, and near by
the summer residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.

We were admonished to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the
opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so
much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to
a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate
once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is
mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which
is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at
any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic
chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the
shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings,
finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for
the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated
corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a
bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I
bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some
other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The
dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according
to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris,
Ghorkas, and others.

[Illustration: _A Nepaulese group_]

Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the
success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of
the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts
to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley
crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language
of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in
view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal.
Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles
claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave
us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with
lantern views.

The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some
courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition
to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw
our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented,
seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions
piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the
last moment, one of the bearers draped around my shoulders. It was
moonlight when we left the valley. The view of each mountain and gorge
was marvellous, so unlike daylight, as the moon ever throws elusive
shadows about all things it touches. Before we reached our destination,
the first streak of dawn was faintly outlined against the horizon, as if
heralding the approach of some great spectacle, which soon came in
shades of gold and pink; then bursting forth like a great ball of fire
which illuminated the whole scene, even the distant Kanchanjanga range
being suffused with a pinkish glow. We held our breath and were
thankful, for the guide had told us that a perfect sunrise was a rare
occurrence. Mount Everest, 29,002 feet high, eighty miles distant, and
the highest peak in the world, as usual was but dimly seen. After the
excitement of the morning, the hot coffee and rolls which were provided
for us proved most acceptable. We lingered on for a half-hour, amused
that even above the clouds human nature is the same, as every bearer
produced rings or other trinkets for our inspection and possible
purchase. The descent was made in the blinding sunlight, and indeed it
was so warm that we laid aside our blankets, and we noted the different
aspects which all Nature wore.

A nine-o'clock breakfast followed, and we were ready for other
experiences. The descent to Siliguri was not unlike the ascent, with the
view reversed. A night train conveyed us to Sara Ghat, where we arrived
early in the morning and were taken across the river Ganges to
Dumonkdeah, where we took a train for Calcutta, one hundred and sixteen
miles distant.

CALCUTTA, _December 31st_: There is, in a certain sense, a link between
Benares and Calcutta; the latter is situated on the Hooghly River, which
is an outlet of the river Ganges, but no resemblance exists between
India's modern winter capital and the city of superstition. We arrived
in Calcutta on December 31st, and repaired to the Strand Hotel. An
afternoon drive to Eden Park proved delightful, and on every side we saw
attractive surroundings.

January 1st dawned brightly, and found us at 7 A.M. driving to the fine
esplanade, called "The Maidan," and extending two miles. We were on our
way to witness the great annual military review by the Viceroy, now Lord
Minto. Presentation Day is the term here applied to New Year's Day. It
was a gala occasion indeed, and the equipages of the rich, and the
smaller vehicles of all descriptions, encircled the barrier that
intervened between the spectators and those who were to furnish the
display. There were also hundreds on foot, some of them in the brilliant
native dress of various colors, with their many-hued turbans. This was
specially noticeable in the livery of many of the native carriages,
where gold trimmings were profuse, and the same scheme was carried out
in the dress of the two coachmen and two footmen, the latter being
called _syces_. The militia presented a splendid appearance, and the
infantry marched with the greatest precision, but the cavalry, as usual,
carried off the honors as regards spectacular display, particularly the
native cavalry with their picturesque dress. Lord Minto and his aides
were elegantly decked in their accoutrements and elicited much cheering.

We returned for a nine-thirty breakfast, and left afterwards for a
sight-seeing expedition, having been warned not to expect much in this
line at Calcutta. St. Paul's Cathedral--English--was interesting on
account of the many memorials and statues, one of Bishop Heber having
much merit. Fort William and the grounds of the Government House, the
Dalhousie Club, the Black Hole, and other points were also visited.

[Illustration: _The Government House in Calcutta_]

The Black Hole is so often mentioned in connection with Calcutta that a
few words of explanation seem necessary. It was at the time of the
siege of Calcutta in 1756 a small room in the barracks, twenty-two by
fourteen feet in size, and sixteen feet in height. One hundred human
beings were crowded into it on the night of June 20th, and there were
only twenty-three survivors in the morning. A memorial obelisk was
erected by one of these survivors, and this was restored by order of
Lord Curzon.

The Imperial Museum is a very large building and has extensive
geological and archæological departments. It also possesses a fine
library.

We omitted the burning ghat, remembering the one at Benares, but a Hindu
temple revealed another repulsive goddess, Kali, and the sacrifice of
the goat had just occurred. The river front has a ghat for bathing.

A drive to the distant Botanical Gardens proved of much interest, and
the largest banyan tree in the world was there displayed, having four
hundred and sixty-four aerial branches and covering over an acre in
extent; there were also long avenues of palms.

Lacking the fine harbor of Bombay, Calcutta is still a city of great
commercial importance and of many natural attractions and fine public
buildings. It is, however, a place of decided contrasts, imposing
streets of residences being not far distant from as wretched a native
quarter as may be seen in any other Indian city. To the casual tourist
Calcutta seems a large English city (eight hundred thousand
inhabitants), especially so in the life on the Maidan, the centre of
attraction and fashion. Eden Park is also greatly frequented, and the
race-course is the finest in India; but, notwithstanding, Calcutta has
not the charm of Bombay. The Strand Hotel gave us an elaborate menu for
our New Year's dinner, which was supplemented by flowers and bonbons,
and we all voted the occasion, even if in a foreign land, a success. And
so I link Lucknow and Calcutta together in the holiday column of my
memory.

I have before alluded to the sad, dejected faces of the natives of North
India; the Bengali seemed a trifle more melancholy, as is their
reputation. We did not regret our departure, although it meant the loss
of our faithful Indian guide, Dalle, and our travelling servant, Jusef,
both with their long India bordered shawls artistically thrown over one
shoulder, and their high white turbans rolled round and round the head,
the finishing touch being a tall conical ornament that stood up in the
centre. This is significant of their territorial province, styles of
turbans varying with the locality. The early hour of 6 A.M. found us
departing on the British and India line for a steamer trip of three
days, Rangoon being our destination.

[Illustration: _An avenue of palms in the Botanical Gardens_]

The trip was restful, but afforded little variety, and we hailed our
arrival at Rangoon with delight early on the morning of January 6th. By
a late decision we concluded to go on at once to Mandalay and leave
Rangoon to be visited on our return. Taking a train at noon, we were
favored by journeying in _de luxe_ cars, sacred to the use of high
officials, and so complete in equipment as to include bathroom,
shower-bath, and other conveniences. The afternoon ride was through a
fertile country, rice and bananas being the principal products. The rice
crop had been garnered, and piles of bags were ready at every station
for shipment to Rangoon (the amount shipped is two hundred thousand tons
annually). Later we visited a field where rice was being harvested. It
is not unlike wheat in the sheaf, but smaller. The country process after
cutting is first to pound the rice, and then winnow it so as to remove
the hull; this is done by throwing it in the air, by means of a round
flat plate with a handle. Machinery is used in the cities.

BURMA: We were now far from the centre of things, in a remote corner of
Southeastern Asia, hidden in the midst of mountains, which were for ages
the safeguard against Indian invaders and the aggression of China.
Proselyting Buddhists, however, found their way from India and brought
civilization with them.

There is a great diversity of races in Burma, various foreign tribes
having come there and remained, making a mixed population. There are now
about sixty thousand Palaings wearing the Chin dress. The Kachins, a
warlike people, formerly made raids on the Burmans who lived on the
border of China, the Chins dwelling among the hills. The Karens are
numerically the strongest and live in the delta of the Irrawaddy. They
had been an oppressed people, but achieved their liberty under British
rule, and it is estimated that one hundred thousand abjured Buddhism and
became Christians. The Chins are the oldest, having come from China two
thousand years ago.

Southern Burma was under British rule before the middle of the
nineteenth century, but it is only since January, 1886, that England has
controlled Northern Burma. King Thebaw's downfall was caused by his
numerous cruel acts to foreigners, which compelled the British to take
steps to check him. His headquarters were at Mandalay, and his deserted
palace is the centre of attraction to-day. The most prominent feature is
the fort, in and about which are grouped the palace of the King, the
houses of Government officials and residents of the military quarter.

[Illustration: _Fort Dufferin and the moat, Mandalay_]

[Illustration: _Mandalay palace and its tower, called The Centre of the
Universe_]

The palace was erected by Mindon Min, King Thebaw's father. It covers an
immense area and is encompassed by a high wall of red brick, in which
are twelve gates, each one surrounded by a conical cupola, with layers
of upturned eaves after the peculiar fashion of the country; the same
thing is characteristic of China.

The fort is entirely surrounded by a moat, one hundred feet wide and
twelve feet deep. Five bridges also lead from five of the gateways. The
moat supplies drinking water for the city and is covered with the purple
lotus blossom. Its width and extent make it a characteristic feature of
Mandalay. Roads run parallel with the walls and lead to the entrance of
the palace gardens, once very beautiful.

The palace is a square of twenty or more buildings, built of teak,
painted red, and covered originally with gold leaf. The roofs have
layers of upturned eaves, and the buildings are richly decorated with
colored ornamentation, while the worn gilding and faded reds are blended
in the peculiar shading which time alone can give. There are many
audience rooms, these usually furnished with elaborately decorated
thrones, as is also the audience room in the beautiful adjacent palace
of the Queen; her throne and the King's great throne in the principal
audience room under the lofty cupola (called pyathat, and termed by the
people the "Centre of the Universe") are especially imposing and rich in
decoration. On either side of this audience chamber are large audience
rooms; these were used for some time after the British occupation as a
church for the soldiers, and the Queen's palace was turned into a
resting place for the Upper Burma Club; now both the church and the club
have appropriate edifices of their own. Between two of the principal
rooms is a screen, utilized as a wall and panelled in glass, mosaic, and
mirrors, which is very effective and reminds one of the glass room in
the palace at Amber.

From the high hill at Mandalay, one may gain an excellent general view
of the many pagodas and monasteries in which the city abounds; for this
is verily the land of the pagoda. The most beautiful of all, called the
Incomparable, was destroyed by fire. One of great interest was built by
Mindon Min, and called the Kuthodau, or, more generally, the 450
Pagodas, but there are said to be seven hundred and twenty-nine cupolas
surrounding the great central pagoda, each containing an alabaster slab
upon which are engraved some texts of Buddha taken from the Pali Bible,
the King thinking thus to perpetuate them,--the whole surrounded by a
wall, in which are built two richly decorated gates.

[Illustration: _The Arakan Pagoda_]

[Illustration: _One of the four gateways to the 450 Pagodas_]

Situated very near the so-termed 450 Pagodas is a group of attractive
pagodas in carved wood and plaster of different designs. In the centre
is an unfinished marble pagoda, called Kyauk Taw Gyi, which contains
a huge attractive figure of Buddha, twenty-five feet high.

On the same morning we visited the glass monastery which once on a time
had been very imposing. Here we saw the Bishop and a number of novice
priests receiving instruction, taking, I imagine, a kind of postgraduate
course. All were most affable and seemed happy, as does every one in
Burma. At this monastery two of our party were given copies of a portion
of the Burmese Bible.

Monasteries are also very prominent in Burma, and they are usually boys'
schools, both for young and adult people.

In the afternoon we visited the great Arakan Pagoda, a shrine which
pilgrims of the Buddhist faith frequent from all over the world. It is
built in the form of a square tower, rising in a series of terraces,
growing smaller and ending in a finial at the summit. There are also
battlements with finials capping the top. The whole is gilded and is
very magnificent in appearance, even to the gilded figure of Buddha,
which occupies the principal throne. The day we were there, the throne
was surrounded by worshippers, and the long passages leading from the
pagoda to it were densely thronged. There are four smaller passages,
each being filled with stalls where is displayed almost every
conceivable article, even to fruit and flowers. Near one of the
passages are two large tanks filled with grayish water where are kept
the sacred turtles. The turtles were fed while we were present and
seemed very tame. In the adjacent enclosure we saw many large bells of
graduated size, for which Burma is famous. In an enclosure young men
were playing the game of football, called "Chinlon," in that country,
which means "round basket," the ball being about six inches in diameter.
The players stand in a circle a few feet apart. The ball is thrown by
one, and the player nearest to whom it falls kicks it in the air, and
attempts to repeat this feat several times in order to keep the ball up,
but failing to do so, the next player gains possession and throws it,
and so on.

The visit to the Queen's Golden Monastery was peculiarly interesting. It
is a fine specimen of native architecture, made of elaborately carved
teakwood, finely gilded, but showing the marks of age. In the large
central room, from which leads a smaller room separated only by columns,
the so-called golden image of Buddha (also bejewelled) rests on a raised
dais, and in front is a long table containing a great variety of votive
offerings to the deity from a widely scattered circle of believers. The
columns surrounding these rooms were profusely decorated with glass
ornamentation, and the effect was startling. The Bishop in his robe of
yellow silk--the color of the Buddhist priesthood--was gracious, and
the young priests very jolly. We received several presents of long
narrow books written on palm-leaf, the text being a translation in
modern Burmese from the old Pali Bible. It is unnecessary to add that we
left compensation, the sale of said books being forbidden; hence such is
the way of evading the law!

[Illustration: _The Queen's Golden Monastery_]

[Illustration: _Karen women in Mandalay_]

This monastery contained, like the Silver Monastery, a school for
children. On our departure, an interesting little episode occurred. A
young priest draped his long yellow robe around one of the gentlemen, in
veritable Roman toga style, the right arm and shoulder being exposed.
Then one of the party took a photograph, promising to send a copy to the
monastery.

The support of the Buddhist monasteries depends on charity, and a
procession of priests from each monastery goes about with mendicant
bowls or baskets, each morning soliciting food and fruit, everything
being placed in one receptacle. Rice, however, is the principal
contribution.

We also visited the Aindaw-Yah Pagoda, the oldest in Mandalay. This is
entirely gilt, from base to spire, and presents an imposing appearance.
It is surrounded by a large square or platform on which are placed
various other shrines containing small images of Buddha.

The cause of there being so many pagodas in Burma is that thereby the
builder gains renown and paves the way for greater happiness in a future
state. For the above reason the pagoda is seldom repaired. The builder
desires to be approached as "the builder of a pagoda," and invariably
addresses his wife as "O wife of a pagoda builder." Architecturally the
pagoda, in general, may be described as having a spire, massive
throughout, rising from a circular, square, or octagonal base, in a
succession of tiers or circles, of which the upper is always narrower
than the one beneath it.

The principal industry of Mandalay is the weaving of silk, for which it
is very celebrated, and a visit to the bazar was most interesting.
Unlike the bazars previously described, this was a large, high building,
filled with aisles and furnished with long tables, at the back of which
sat the saleswomen; all the business of the bazar is carried on by
women. There was a great variety of silk weaving of every conceivable
shape and style, the sarong being prominent. This is a long colored
garment which the women of Burma wear pinned tightly around them below
the waist, unlike the fuller skirt we had seen in India, the dress being
completed by a short, loose jacket which shows a white under-vest and a
long, wide sash. The market was also very interesting, in a small
building next or adjoining the silk bazar.

[Illustration: _Burmese country house near Mandalay_]

It may be well to speak here of the happy, contented, pleasure-loving
Burmese women. Indeed, their condition could have been envied a few
years ago, even in a portion of our own United States, as they can hold
property in their own right and are entitled to their earnings. This
causes them to be very industrious as well as executive. It is possible
that the sunny aspect of Nature may partly be responsible for their
joyous appearance, as it certainly causes the men to be very indolent
and quite willing that their wives should carry on their business,
provided they are left undisturbed to enjoy life in their own way.

The women are very fond of dress, and, unlike the women of India, wear
only real jewelry; travellers see a profusion of solitaire diamond
rings, every one of which is said to be genuine.

There is no caste in Burma and no division of class; in the olden time
any one might become a prince or a prime minister if he had the ability
to rise. There is little expression of art or literature, the life being
very simple. The people are indeed children of Nature, and the only
expression of taste is to be found in their pagodas and monasteries.
Their silver work and wood carving are fine. The houses in the country
are usually built of bamboo, raised from the ground on poles, four to
six feet, as protection against floods, reptiles, and other mishaps.
The floor usually consists of split bamboo, the thatched roof of
elephant grass. The sides of the house are of bamboo, opening to the
street on verandas. Some have second stories. Around these homes birds
and animals and naked children are everywhere to be seen.

Among the incidents of our stay at Mandalay I remember a native dance,
called "Pwe," given one evening in front of the hotel. This was a little
on the order of a vaudeville, consisting of a mixture of talk, song, and
dance. The performers were arranged on a high platform. The women were
dressed in the extreme of Burmese fashion, having long pink silk sarongs
tightly drawn around them, jackets and long sashes, and with flowers in
the hair. They appeared in the dancing and the singing, while the two
men furnished the dialogue. The music was anything but melodious, and
the talking we could not understand; but from the applause of the large
number of spectators gathered around, we assumed, however, that it was
funny. The movement of the dance was very slow and measured, as had been
all the dancing we had witnessed in the Orient. The effect was rather
spectacular, seen in a dim light, with trees for a background. Whenever
a dance of this kind occurs, it soon gets noised about, and large
gatherings of people arrive, and they group themselves around, sitting
always on the ground and observing a profound silence except when they
applaud.

[Illustration: _A national dance at Mandalay_]

Near our hotel was an English Wesleyan mission, directed by the Rev. Mr.
Bestol. A friend and I visited it, and found it very interesting and
cheerful,--the home of the missionaries, and the assistant teachers who
supervised the boys' and girls' school, and the dormitories. They seemed
to be doing a very good work. On the occasion of our first call, they
had all gone on a picnic, quite after our usual Sunday-school fashion.
We also heard of other missions of merit.

At 5 P.M. we left our hotel for the landing of the Irrawaddy Flotilla
Company to pass the night on the steamer _Siam_. We were now on a model
river vessel for three days. The scenery was varied and picturesque. At
points from the water's edge there were terraced slopes of vegetation,
trees of many kinds and hues, the dark green foliage alternating with
the light green of the graceful bamboo, while creepers and flowers
peeped out here and there, also clumps of toddy palms rearing their
lofty heads, while the ever-prevalent pagoda glistened white or golden
through the branches. As the steamer carried freight, occasional stops
were made, and this gave variety to the scene.

We arrived at Pakoku about 4 P.M. and anchored for the night. The shore
was lined with piles of bags, boxes, and other usual accessories.
Natives were seen in all directions with a new array of articles, some
bearing baskets suspended from bamboo poles across the shoulders, while
bullock carts and other primitive vehicles, together with the variety of
style and color of the attire worn by the natives, made a scene truly
picturesque. We also stopped at Mirout. Here were mud volcanoes, which
some of the party visited, being carried there in bullock carts, and
found them rather interesting, the volcanoes emitting mud instead of
lava.

We arrived at a place near old Pagan at four in the morning, and never
can I forget the spectacle presented from my stateroom window. There was
total darkness, save where long lines of natives with lanterns, coming
from the woods in every direction, were seen carrying boxes, bales, and
baskets of freight to the shore. Once at the landing, the rush and
commotion and waving of lanterns were truly Burmese. The next point in
our progress was old Pagan, where we saw many pagodas, but we were told
that there were as many as a thousand in the days of her prosperity.

On the river we constantly passed shipping of various kinds, sometimes
huge rafts of teakwood propelled by natives, mostly devoid of attire;
the peculiar Burman paddy boats of old Egyptian style are used for
transporting unhulled rice. A more peaceful trip cannot be imagined,
and it has been compared to a passage up the Nile.

[Illustration: _On the Irrawaddy River, near Sagoing_]

PROME: We arrived at Prome the evening of January 12th, but owing to
some hours' delay we were disappointed in not having the expected drive
or visiting the celebrated pagoda. We took the night train for Rangoon
and were so fortunate as to have the _de luxe_ cars again.

RANGOON: We reached the city early the following morning. Rangoon is
located on the ocean and is furthermore aided by the Irrawaddy River,
which is navigable for over nine hundred miles. It has an unrivalled
location for future growth and permanence. Rangoon's increase has been
phenomenal for this latitude; in 1852 it was a small fishing village; in
1904 the inhabitants numbered two hundred and fifty thousand, and there
has since been a marked increase. The population is divided into
Burmese, Hindus, Mohammedans, and Christians, with a sprinkling of other
nationalities,--a variety which is distinctly recognized in the life of
the city. It has a large export trade in rice, lumber, and oil, and a
visit to one of the factories is almost always included by tourists.

The shipping at Rangoon presents a picturesque variety, as ocean
steamers, river steamers, paddy boats, and quaint smaller vessels are
always in evidence. The civil and municipal buildings do not, however,
compare with those of such rival cities in India as Bombay, Calcutta,
and Madras. The bazars in the European quarter are unusually fine, and
it was a pleasure to visit them, silks, curios, and silver work being
well displayed. In the native quarter those of the inhabitants to be
seen on the street (previously described) had no distinctive character,
but the native silk bazars were mostly in a large, low, poorly lighted
building, divided into aisles. A visit to this neighborhood showed the
happy-go-lucky features noticed in Mandalay.

Indeed, life in Burma is like a comic opera. I realized this one morning
when going about simply to be amused. The market and pavements were
crowded with persons of different nationalities,--the pineapple man with
his tray of fruit, the Burmese girl with her pretty stall of cigars, the
Hindu seller of betel, the Chinaman under his swaying burden of cooked
meats and strange luxuries, the vermicelli man, the Indian confectioner
with his silver-coated pyramids of sago and cream. It is of all crowds
the most cosmopolitan. Here is the long-coated Persian with his air of
breeding and dignity, jostled by the naked coolie with rings in his
nose. The lady beauty of Japan dashes by in her jinrikisha drawn by a
Chinese coolie, and the exclusive Brahman finds himself shoulder to
shoulder with the laughing daughter of the soil who has never heard of
caste.

[Illustration: _General view of Rangoon_]

SHWE DAGON: The centre of attraction in Rangoon, however, is the Shwe
Dagon Pagoda, which is famous wherever the Buddhist religion prevails;
it is situated on an eminence, one hundred and sixty-six feet above the
sea-level and towering up three hundred and sixty-eight feet. It is a
very imposing structure, exceeding in height even St. Paul's Cathedral
in London. This proportion gives it an air of dignity and repose, while
its gilded surface from base to finial causes it to be truly
magnificent.

The structure has no interior, being built solidly of brick over a relic
chamber; hence its platform with a circumference of about fourteen
hundred feet is the place for worship and also for many small pagodas.
The great pagoda is of conical shape and is divided into twelve parts,
and of these the ti, or umbrella, valued at £60,000, is the most costly
and remarkable, and was the gift of King Mindon, the next to the last
king of Burma. While from its great height it is scarcely visible, it is
really thirteen and one-half feet high and is hung with about fifteen
hundred bells, many of them gold. When heard at night, the effect is
magical.

The southern entrance has a pair of gryphons, and beyond them is the
entrance arch, which is inferior to the rest of the edifice. Here may be
seen venders of many kinds, selling gold leaf (which is used by pilgrims
on the surface of the pagoda), books, papers, toys, and offerings to
place on the altar; and the scene around the stalls is instinct with
life and gayety. Brightly dressed women and children, coquettish girls,
nuns, and beggars all assemble here.

There are four flights of stairs, east, west, north, and south, leading
up to the platform; the southern one being mostly used, as it looks down
upon the thoroughfare. The western stairs have been closed to
worshippers, as the place is now a British fortress.

It is impossible to describe the many objects of interest on this
immense platform. Four chapels at the foot of the pagoda are guarded by
colossal figures of the sitting Buddha, and in the farthest recess, in a
niche, is a small Buddha, the gilding of which is discolored by the
smoke from many thousands of tapers and candles.

On each side of the pagoda are chapels with tapering roofs and upturned
eaves, and within them are seated images of the Buddha covered with
gold. These attract large numbers of worshippers, and with the myriad
waxen tapers produce an impressive effect.

[Illustration: _Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon_]

[Illustration: _Entrance gateway, Shwe Dagon Pagoda_]

[Illustration: _Chapels on platform around Shwe Dagon, Rangoon_]

The chapels are decorated with screens of fine wood carving. The
coloring is also very striking, the outside being of vermilion and gold,
the inside of green, gold, and purple.

Hundreds of Buddhas of various sizes are seen in all directions,
sitting, standing, and reclining; and on the outer edge of the platform
are small pagodas, each with its ti, or umbrella, and also holding its
usual offerings of fruit, flowers, or small gifts. Seen at twilight and
as the candles are being lighted, it is almost bewildering, even
uncanny, as I found one evening when there alone with my guide, the
renowned Abraham, who, even though a rigid Mohammedan, assumed a devout
attitude.

Another prominent pagoda is the gilded Sule. This is situated quite in
the heart of things, near the Strand, and is graceful in proportions.
The platform also contains many interesting shrines. A fine distant view
of the Sule is obtained from Hytche Square.

There are many monasteries (virtually schools for boys), the finest
being at a suburb called Kemmendine, which is also a centre for the
manufacture of kalagas, or blankets, usually red with figures in
appliqué. We enjoyed several pleasant drives while in Rangoon, the
favorite one being to Royal Lake and through Dalhousie Park; if taken in
the late afternoon, one will see a gayly dressed, fashionable throng,
either driving or walking. I had met Mr. and Mrs. W.T. Graham of the
Burma Civil Service on the steamer from Port Saïd to Bombay, and I was
indebted to them for two drives,--one to their country home, which was
an attractive two-storied bungalow with galleries and low windows above
and below, quite unlike the thatched houses seen in Upper Burma. There
were contrasts in the general dress and appearance of the natives; pink
was, however, still the prevailing color in the sarongs, sashes, and
jackets of the women, and the long hair of the men was the custom. The
intermarriage between Burmese women and Chinamen was said to be very
frequent, some of the women preferring the hard-working executive
Chinamen to the indolent Burmese. And, according to the opinion of a
gentleman I met later, who had made a study of the subject, the
intermarriage of the ever-prevalent Chinamen with races of the Orient,
where caste does not prevent, is in time going to work a great racial
revolution.

One morning we rose at 5 A.M. for an early excursion to see elephants
haul teak from the river-bank to higher ground, where the logs would dry
before transference to the sawmills. We went at this time so as to avoid
the heat, and also because the elephants rest after 11 A.M. The
illustration will show the process, but it was an amusing sight to see
five ponderous animals moving slowly along, propelling the logs with
their trunks, and ever and anon trumpeting; not being versed in elephant
expression, I was left in doubt as to whether the sound meant joy or
sorrow. We visited another similar scene near a large sawmill which we
explored under the leadership of the manager.

[Illustration: _Elephants carrying logs at Rangoon_]

[Illustration: _The Gilded Sule as seen from Hytche Square_]

A trip to a rice-mill had been spoken of, but, not having breakfasted,
we preferred to return to the hotel. Tea and toast were served at
rising, if one desired it, during our entire "Tour." Another novel
excursion was a long drive to some half-ruined Buddhist temples, a
monastery, and buildings assigned to the peculiar rites which precede
the cremation of a Buddhist priest; two bodies were seen in
curious-looking receptacles, awaiting the culmination of events.

We were disappointed in not seeing a "ceremony," but were told to come
in the evening and witness a temple dance, and, I believe, also a
semi-dramatic ceremony. Some of the party did so, but I remained in the
hotel to write letters, as we were to leave the following morning.

I have alluded to Abraham, our guide in Burma, as a devout Mohammedan,
but he had numerous characteristics which rather caused distrust, one of
them being his extreme deference to the ladies of the party, when
according to the tenets of his religion we were all "fiends incarnate";
the other was his apparent abject acceptance of all Buddhist
ceremonies, which we knew at heart he detested. However, "guides" became
a prolific study, as time went on.

The weather had been hot in Rangoon; so, in spite of our pleasant Burman
experiences and the joyousness of things in general, we hailed the
steamer voyage as affording some measure of relief. We sailed at 7 A.M.
on January 17th, on the steamer _Palmicotta_, for a voyage of four days
to Madras. As usual, nothing occurred to mar the even tenor of our way;
the ship was comfortable, the passengers affable, and the sea on good
behavior.

MADRAS, _January 21st_: We arrived at Madras early on the morning of
January 21st. The view of the city from the pier was disappointing, but
the drive of about two miles to the Hotel Connemara showed much natural
beauty, the trees in particular being very fine. Hot weather met us at
Madras, but as it is a city of magnificent distances, driving was a
necessity, and hence less exertion was required. In the park and at the
Botanical Gardens we saw more natural beauty and took the long drive to
the sea front, where the fashionable people of the city of Marina go in
large numbers, and which leads past fine municipal buildings, the
college, and other places of importance. St. George's Church is
pleasing, with its quota of memorial statues, and the close is very
attractive, reminding one of England. The drive through the native
quarter, called Black Town, presented unusual features. The fort and
parks were visited, as were also some rather attractive bazars. The
museum is interesting from an historical standpoint and has many statues
and bas-reliefs, some relating to Prince Gautama and some to Hindu gods;
there are also relics of saints. It is particularly rich in specimens of
armor and jewelled swords.

[Illustration: _General view of Madras_]

Madras seems quite as unlike the cities of Northern India as does
Rangoon, and comparatively few of the thousands of tourists who frequent
Northern India ever visit Southern India, a great distinction between
the two being made. It is, however, conveniently near the great Seven
Pagodas, which we did not visit, and is the gateway to the famous
Dravidian temples which presented much interest.

We left early in the afternoon in order to visit Tanjore, Trichinopoly,
and Madura, and for two days sleeping-cars were to be our home. There
are no hotels in these cities, the wonderful temples serving as a
substitute, while the English railway restaurant afforded us a certain
amount of sustenance. The ride to Tanjore was through a lovely country
with beautiful palms, groves of vari-hued trees, and occasionally a
tangle of vines.

TANJORE: On our arrival at Tanjore in the afternoon we went directly to
the forts which enclose the temple, palace, and gopuras. The temple is
in the little fort. The gopuras claim first attention. They are really
gateways, a feature peculiar to Southern India. They were intended as a
fortification to protect the temples from foreign invaders, and are
imposing in size and structure--towering up (some nine stories high)
course after course, and literally covered with carvings of animals and
gods, all colored in red and gold. We passed through a gopura ninety
feet high, next through a passage one hundred and seventy feet long,
then through a small gopura, when we arrived at the large outer
enclosure of the temple, four hundred and fifty by eight hundred feet.
This is further surrounded by cloisters and open to outsiders, who are
not, however, permitted to enter the great temple of the adjacent halls.
But even at a distance we could admire their barbaric splendor.

We were also entertained by the gorgeous temple peacock (considered
sacred), of enormous size, which, with outstretched tail, posed for us
with as much evident vanity as a coquettish girl. There are smaller
shrines and temples distributed about the great enclosure, and in one
temple is an immense bronze bull. The tower of the great temple is only
thirty-eight feet lower than the Kutub Minar described in "Old Delhi."
In the northwest corner of the enclosure is an exquisite small temple
called Siva Manya and dedicated to the son of Siva. It has a tower fifty
feet high and a base forty feet square, adorned with pillars, and these
are continued along another cloister, fifty feet long. Mr. Ferguson
writes: "It is as exquisite a piece of decorative architecture as is to
be found in Southern India." The great fort seems like a continuation of
the small one, and in it are situated the palace and Schwartz Church.

[Illustration: _The Great Subrahmanya Temple at Tanjore_]

The palace of the Princess of Tanjore is an immense structure and was
built about 1550 A.D. It has no merit architecturally, but possesses
certain features of interest; one of these is a large Durbar room which
contains bas-reliefs on the wall, and a platform of black granite, on
which stands a white marble statue by Flaxman of Raja Shah Foji, who was
a pupil of Flaxman and who was next to the last Raja. There are also to
be found here portraits of the various members of the royal family and a
bust of Lord Nelson. In addition, we came across an unusual library for
India, dating from the end of the sixteenth century, and containing
eighteen thousand Sanskrit manuscripts, one half of them written on palm
leaves. Our English guide showed us a portion of the palace occupied by
two ladies, relatives of the last Raja, this being a courtesy extended
to them by the English Government and which ceases with their death.
The Schwartz Church dates from 1770 A.D., and the aged missionary is
immortalized in a monument designed by Flaxman, which contains eight
figures beside the reclining one.

The Tanjore and Trichinopoly districts were the scene of the earliest
work of the Protestant missionaries in India, and the Roman Catholic
missionaries antedated them by half a century. Churches of these faiths
are scattered through this and the adjoining districts. We had a late
luncheon in the restaurant of the railway station and then repaired to
the train. I have great dislike for a sleeping-car, so it can be
imagined that the visit to the Dravidian temples was made under
difficulties. We proceeded to Trichinopoly, arriving there early and
having a long day before us.

TRICHINOPOLY: Trichinopoly, like Tanjore, has a history full of
vicissitudes, in which the French and that picturesque figure, Lord
Clive, appear. The temple of Sri Ranngam is situated a mile from the
bridge and three miles from the fort, the entrance being through a
gopura forty-eight feet high; the sides of this passage, one hundred
feet long and forty-three feet high, are richly ornamented. The
monoliths which serve as pillars are forty feet high, and every detail
is on a gigantic scale; this is the largest Hindu temple in India. The
outer enclosure alone is twenty-four hundred and seventy-five by
twenty-eight hundred and eighty feet, and has its elephant, but it wears
a commercial aspect (being filled with bazars) which detracts from the
dignity of the scene. As we penetrated to the interior temple, the
buildings diminished in size and importance; the gopuras, however, are
imposing (there are nine in all), with their profuse decoration, all
being painted and all varying in size.

[Illustration: _Fort Rock, Trichinopoly_]

In the court around the central enclosure is a hall of about one
thousand pillars; these are of granite, eighteen feet in height. On one
side the pillars represent men astride rearing horses, the horses' feet
being supported by the shields of men on foot beside them. This temple
was built about 700 B.C. The tanks are of interest in Trichinopoly, but
less so than in Madura.

The great rock is the most noticeable feature, tunnelled out of which is
a circular staircase with a gateway leading to interior temples, and on
the sides of this passage are pillars with peculiar capitals which seem
to indicate Jain origin. The way upward was dimly lighted, and all
manner of accidents seemed possible. In fact, there was a very serious
accident in 1849, when five hundred persons were killed. At one landing
there was a school of small boys; at another, there were groups of
worshippers making their descent; turning to the left, we saw a small
temple of Siva. In the dim light everything seemed weird and unreal. The
view from the top of the rock was far-reaching, gopuras and temples
gleaming through the green foliage. There were sacred elephants here, as
at Tanjore, standing in the usual receptive attitude; for them small
coins were more acceptable than food, showing how adroitly they had been
trained.

MADURA: Another very early arrival at Madura, and the programme of the
day before was repeated. Although Madura is a large place, the temples,
gopuras, and palaces are the chief attraction. The famous Palace of
Tirumala Nayak is splendid in its appointments, having large, airy halls
and audience rooms (similar to the Diwan-i-Khas of Delhi and Agra) with
richly decorated ceilings, and the bedchamber is resplendent with
carving and gilding. There is a fine view from the roof of the great
temple. The nine gopuras are tall, massive, and barbaric in their
decorations, which consist of horses, lions, elephants, gods and
goddesses. The great shrines of Siva and his consort are almost
interminable in their extent, and there is a long vestibule or hall
divided into aisles by carved columns. This formed a reception room
for the King in early times, a great contrast to the present scene of
tumultuous venders with almost every variety of goods, who are more
noisy than their brothers of North India.

[Illustration: _The Golden Lily Tank, Madura_]

[Illustration: _Entrance to the Madura Temple_]

Within the temple there are many shrines and many Tamil worshippers;
high-caste Brahmans are also there to minister to the supposed wants of
the higher gods. Galleries led us out to still other shrines, where are
installed additional images of gods, who on fête days are carried about
in gold and silver chariots of untold value. All the most beautiful
portions of the temple as it now stands were built by Tirumala Nayak,
the great Madura ruler of modern times, who ascended the throne in 1623
and reigned thirty-six years.

One of the quadrangles opens out on a tank. An arcade runs around the
tank, and the walls are painted with representations of the most famous
pagodas in India. On the north side is the belfry--strange to relate, an
American bell hangs therein. Here too is the Hall of a Thousand Pillars,
and this is even more remarkable than the same-named hall at
Trichinopoly, on account of the marvellous beauty of the construction.
Near the hall is the great gopura, and opposite this is the new gallery,
of a magnificent plan but unfinished, known as Tirumala's Choultrie.
There is so much of interest and detail connected with all of these
Dravidian temples that one should plan to have more time to devote to
them. The cursory examination we were afforded measures the disadvantage
of an itinerary. We left after luncheon for Tuticorin, and arrived there
at 5 P.M.

TUTICORIN: Tuticorin, on the Gulf of Manaar, is the port of departure
for Colombo, Ceylon. We had only a hurried glimpse of the city, showing
white buildings, white sand, and the blackest natives we had yet seen.
We inferred they were Tamils. A pleasant night on the steamer followed.

COLOMBO, _January 25th_: The morning of January 25th saw our approach to
the fine harbor of Colombo, and we felt that at last our dream of
viewing the beautiful island of Ceylon was to be realized. Our first
impression was received at the landing jetty, where it seemed as if
every nationality had its representative, so varied was the appearance
of the natives,--the Laskas from the Malay Peninsula, the Hindus from
India, as well as Tamil coolies, Arabs from Aden, Buddhist priests, and
Mohammedans. We found excitement on our arrival at the hotel, owing to
the expected appearance of the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite, as well
as Sir Thomas Lipton and numerous other notable guests.

[Illustration: _Street scene in Colombo_]

The ride to the hotel, located on the sea, had shown us unusual
luxuriance of vegetation and wonderful trees both in fruit and in
blossom. This fact was emphasized by a long afternoon drive, beginning
in the native quarter with its attendant bazars and ending with a long
country tour for at least an hour through a forest of palms of many
varieties, the tall talipot towering high--higher even than the
fruit-laden cocoanut palm,--while bread-fruit trees, jack-fruit trees,
and bananas made a pleasing variety. A little diversion occurred when a
boy climbed a tall cocoanut palm, procuring a fine specimen, and opened
it for us to try. We passed the Victoria Bridge, which took the place of
the bridge of boats, returning to our hotel by a way that revealed still
more tropical wonders. The fine Galle Face Hotel, with its sense of
spaciousness and restful ease, the illuminated grounds, the band, and
the dash of the waves caused that first Saturday evening to seem almost
perfection; one and all felt willing to linger on indefinitely, but,
alas, the iron-clad itinerary must be met, and a week in the mountains
was to follow!

Colombo is a fine place in which to study types, and nothing is more
peculiar than the Cingalese man, with his long hair braided in a knot at
his neck, with the broad shell comb resting on his crown; on State
occasions the chief waiters at the hotel appear in an exceedingly high
head piece perched above their customary shell ornament, which they told
us was the style of a hundred years ago.

The jinrikisha man here is the first person to gain your attention; so
winning are his ways and so rapid his pace that he is justly popular for
a short spin to the very interesting shopping district, where almost
everything may be found, the jewels holding the interest of the stranger
above all else. But, alas, the pearl, Ceylon's home product, is to be
had only at fabulous prices and not then in its perfection. We had heard
of the lure of the pearl in the Gulf of Manaar (separating Ceylon from
India), and of all the fairy-tale adventures involved in the search for
it, and so we were disappointed in our failure to see perfect specimens.

The heat in Colombo was not oppressive, but, as in other places, there
are flying punkahs and electric appliances for cooling the air; then
there are fans in one's room to use at will, for these Easterners like
comfort and secure it at whatever cost, and the denizens of the West
soon fall into their ways, even adopting the English custom of four
o'clock tea. The spacious entrance hall at the Galle Face Hotel
presented an animated appearance, with beautifully gowned ladies, and
their attendants, seated around little tables sipping tea and consuming
fruit-cake and sandwiches.

NUWARA ELIYA: On Tuesday morning, January 28th, we left Colombo for the
north. The mountain resort of Nuwara Eliya is a great boon even to the
inhabitants of sea-swept Colombo; and it is also appreciated to its full
by the tourist who has been surfeited with the close atmosphere of
cities or grown tired of sea voyages. We had been told that the scenery
combined the wildness of Switzerland with the peculiar charm of the
Welsh mountains; hence we felt that a new experience awaited us. The
railway ride there confirmed our first impression of Ceylon's fine
growth of trees and shrubs, the road leading first through lowlands with
endless cocoanut and other palms; while of all the blossom-laden trees
the gold mohr, with its wealth of scarlet blossoms, surpasses every
other. Later, rice-fields and tea plantations alternated, the latter
even covering the sides of mountains. The scenery grew bolder as we went
along, and at the Junction we took the narrow gauge for our mountain
climb. This ascent was another triumph of engineering skill, winding
around long and bold curves.

Nuwara Eliya is located sixty-two hundred feet above the sea, but,
surrounded by mountains, the country has the appearance of being a
valley. The Grand Hotel, in bungalow style, is prettily located in well
laid-out grounds, with a fine view. In the morning we drove to Hakgalla
Botanical Garden, and on our way there we saw a striking feature in
great masses of rhododendrons. The road to the gardens through an avenue
of trees was inviting, and as we turned to the right we had a fine view
of the west peak of the Hakgalla rock; passing on up the drive, we saw a
large lake, the banks of which were lined with ornamental trees. There
is here a pleasing vista of flowering plants, tall palms, and varied
trees; we examined an immense tea plant twelve feet in diameter, a fine
clump of tree ferns, and a peculiar silver fern from New Zealand,--also
a wax palm from New Granada, the leaves of which are covered with a wax
substance from which good candles can be made; and a fernery with
twenty-six thousand plants. There is also a flower garden, a house for
the propagation of plants, and a laboratory for scientific research,
besides many other interesting features in this truly complete garden.

We visited a tea factory, and an attendant showed us the entire process
of preparation, even to the wrapping of the tea in packages. During the
afternoon we drove to Ramboda Pass, six miles distant. From the top of
the pass, six thousand feet high, there was a panoramic view of mountain
scenery with the Katinale valley below and the gray-crested Peacock
Mountain as a centrepiece. Nuwara Eliya is a famed summer resort, with
beautiful walks, tennis, cricket, and social clubs; the English Church
is finely located, with the usual well-kept close.

[Illustration: _General view of Nuwara Eliya_]

KANDY, _January 30th_: We left Nuwara Eliya, on the morning of January
30th, for Kandy, arriving there at 2 P.M. The train passed through a
country similar to that before described, only there was a greater
descent, Kandy having less altitude than Nuwara Eliya. We had
anticipated much of Kandy, Ceylon's ancient capital and the scene of
action in the days of the old Kandyan kings. It is said that when Adam
and Eve were banished from Paradise they repaired to Ceylon and located
at Kandy, it being the nearest approach to Paradise. A few days' stay
there sufficed to show us that the legend was partly justified.

The city is situated in a valley with stretches of mountains on either
side, a lake nestling in the centre of the place and in the midst of a
perfect wealth of trees. Nature seemed to challenge our admiration.

The afternoon drive to Peradeniya convinced us that the claim of one of
the greatest botanical gardens in the world was well founded, for here
we saw revelations in plants, shrubs, and trees, the new varieties of
palms seeming wonderful. A talipot palm was in blossom, towering high to
heaven, but we knew that its course was nearly ended, for when it
attains about half a century of vitality it droops and dies; this seems
a strange anomaly of Nature. Great groups of rubber trees (largely
exported from Ceylon) and immense groups of tall bamboo trees were also
in plenty.

Kandy, in the Eastern world, derives its greatest renown from being the
home of Buddha's tooth, and the Temple of the Tooth attracts great
crowds of pilgrims of the Buddhist faith from many lands. It is said to
have been brought here in the sixteenth century, and the small temple in
which it was then placed has been enlarged and made a shrine where
costly gifts are laid by devotees from China, Japan, the Malay
Peninsula, Siam, and other remote points. Buddhism claims the larger
portion of Ceylon's subjects, having in comparison with Hinduism a small
following in India, where it originated. The tooth is said to be the
left eye-tooth of Prince Siddhartha, taken from his ashes twenty-five
centuries ago, but it is believed that the original tooth was burned by
the Catholic Archbishop of Goa, Portugal, in 1650, and a spurious one
substituted. However, it is worshipped as the real one, and the morning
following our arrival, we attended the 9.30 service at the temple, where
a crowd was in attendance, seemingly enjoying the hideous music of the
tom-toms and instruments of a similar Oriental character. The tooth is
not shown except on rare occasions, but through a glass door we saw its
jewelled casket and the table on which it rests.

[Illustration: _General view of Kandy_]

There were many offerings before this relic and before other images of
Buddha which are to be found presiding over all temples. Much
superstition was evident, but the sacrifices and practices that are to
be seen in the Hindu temples are here wanting. It is a sad reflection,
however, that Buddha's noble teachings could not have borne better
fruit.

The library of the temple held many richly bound Buddhist books, written
on leaves made from the talipot palm. The leaves bound together are long
and narrow, and are held in place between heavy covers. The priests, as
in Burma, wear a yellow silk robe draped like a Roman toga. They are
seen everywhere, going about in the early morning with a begging bowl;
they are ever courteous and apparently well bred. Cremation is
practised, as with the Hindus, but the rites preceding it are far more
imposing and cover days of peculiar ceremonies, while the Hindus
practise almost immediate cremation. A visit to the Government art
school and museum followed, and then a beautiful mountain drive where
hill and valley alternated; the views were past description.

In the afternoon we were permitted the courtesy of a visit to the
Governor's residence, the family being absent. The grounds were large
and well laid out; the rooms spacious and furnished with a view to
comfort and to meet the requirements of the climate. We were interested
in learning that the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite were about to
arrive to take up their residence for a time. A so-termed Lady Blake's
drive followed. This was also largely a mountain ride with more fine
views; but we surpassed ourselves on the following day in the tour we
took, and our adjectives were soon exhausted; so it is natural that we
should vote Ceylon the finest land we had thus far visited.

Sunday was passed quietly; we attended a 6 A.M. service in the English
Church, and saw a number of natives in attendance, ladies appearing in
low dresses and with uncovered heads. They were richly clad; so it was
evidently the custom, even though to us it seemed peculiar.

[Illustration: _Entrance to the Botanical Gardens, Kandy_]

[Illustration: _Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy_]

ANURADHAPURA: Monday, February 3d, we left Kandy to visit
Anuradhapura.

Before proceeding, it seems desirable to introduce an historical
digression. The history of Ceylon is shrouded in mystery, but, from
chronicles compiled by the early monks, a real foundation or beginning
has been determined upon, proving that the Cingalese under Wigeyo
invaded Ceylon in 543 B.C. and conquered the aborigines of the soil. It
is deemed probable that they came from neighboring continents, and that
their descendants possessed character and determination; that they were
builders is shown by the erection of splendid edifices at an early date,
and after the arrival of the royal Buddhist missionary, Mahindo (son of
an Indian king), 306 B.C., fine dagobas and monasteries were added, each
successive ruler seeming ambitious to excel his predecessor.

Anuradhapura was the first capital, but owing to many vicissitudes and
several invasions of the Malabars of Southern India, the capital was
moved many times, Kandy being the sixth; it preceded Cotta, near
Colombo, the latter being the present capital. In 1532, on the landing
of the Portuguese at Colombo, the last blow was struck, and soon the
great cities of the Empire were deserted and left in the hands of
foreigners. The best dagobas were crumbling, immense tanks broken, and
general devastation succeeded where splendor had long reigned. The
annals of these centuries, the recital of the achievements and the
failures of the various rulers, read like a romance, and it seems sad
that a people thus endowed could not have retained their character and
independence, although under English rule the island seems prosperous.

The first mention of Kandy is at the beginning of the fourteenth
century, when a temple was built to receive the sacred tooth and other
ruins, the possession of which made it an important centre of the
Buddhist religion and eventually a royal residence; it became the
capital of the island in 1592. From that time until the final
establishment of the English rule in 1803, it was repeatedly captured
and burned by the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the English; it
consequently presents no architectural monuments nor any pretension to
antiquity.

But it has a better claim to the remembrance of posterity in the fact
that for three hundred years it was the centre of the national movement
to resist the aggressions of the foreigner. After the British occupation
the King was allowed some authority, but owing to certain indignities
offered to English subjects, war was declared in 1815, the King taken
prisoner and transported to India, where he died in 1832. Ceylon has
since been an English colony. The Kandyans are brave and fearless in
appearance; they never wear the Cingalese comb, as this is a badge of
the low country. The women dress differently from those in India.

The city presents a wide field of interest for the archæologist, and
incidentally for the tourist. We were to have a new experience here, as
we were to be housed in a "rest house," the term applied to a Government
semi-hotel, usually of a simple description, but serving as a great
convenience to Government officials in the many places throughout the
English islands where there are no hotels. We found the one at
Anuradhapura prettily located in a setting of green, with a garden in
front. The present little town has a population of about three thousand,
and is the capital of the north central province of Ceylon.

[Illustration: _Ruins of Anuradhapura_]

The tour of the ruins is divided into a consideration of the outer and
inner circles, each comprising a drive of several miles. On the
afternoon of our arrival we took the outer circle and went past towering
ruined temples called dagobas, remains of palaces once spacious and
imposing, long rows of stately columns covering a wide space, ruined
towers, statues, some headless and some showing traces of their former
skill, immense tanks, and remains of buildings of many descriptions
which are awaiting the patient investigation of the archæologist. Much
in this line has already been done, and active work is now being carried
forward on some of the dagobas, the contribution of Buddhistic pilgrims
who come from far and near largely aiding the cause. There is also a
local archæological society which seeks to systematize the effort.

The ride to the inner circle and the more distant points consumed
another four hours, and an eight-mile excursion will later be alluded
to. The special objects of interest may be mentioned, with an indication
of what the ruins represent, as they may have general value. The sacred
road is a feature of the place, for it is the pathway the pilgrims have
trod for over two thousand years. The Thuparama is the oldest and most
venerated of all the dagobas. The largest one is the Jaytawanarama,
built about the close of the third century A.D. by King Mahicena. The
height, including the pedestal, is two hundred and forty-nine feet, and
its diameter three hundred and sixty feet; moreover, the contents of the
dome of brickwork and the platform on which it stands are said to
contain twenty million cubic feet. It is also stated that, with the
facilities which modern inventions supply for economizing labor, the
building of such a structure at present would take five hundred
bricklayers from six to seven years, and would involve an expenditure of
at least $5,000,000. Only the glory of the old outline is now left, and
its four chapels have crumbled almost past recognition.

[Illustration: _Near the Sacred Road, Thuparama Dagoba_]

Of interest is the Isurumuniya Temple, constructed by King
Dewenipiatissa, 300 B.C. The temple is carved out, and circles around a
formation of natural rock; its shrine is approached by two terraces, the
steps being in a state of fine preservation. The outer wall of the upper
terrace is ornamented with a remarkable series of seventeen mural
frescos in low relief, the subjects being grotesque, and there is a
large tablet on the south wall consisting of a group of three women, a
man, and attendants. Close to the entrance of the shrine is a large
sitting figure holding a horse, and carved out of the face of the rock
are the heads of four elephants in low relief. The stone doorway is a
fine specimen of carving, and the pillars which support the porch in
front of it are beautifully proportioned. The temple has been restored.

A priest's dwelling-house is near, and the priest was officiating at the
shrine at the time of my visit. I was alone; he signified that I was to
keep silent, and then offered up a prayer to Buddha in my behalf, for
which I was doubtless expected to deposit a coin in a contribution box.
As I did not disappoint the expectant priest, he courteously presented
me with his card, and this is the name inscribed thereon:
"Sangharakkhita Mahathera, the High Priest of the Isurumuni Vihara."
Another interesting dagoba with a most unpronounceable name is now being
restored through the pious contributions of pilgrims. The present height
is one hundred and fifty feet, with a diameter of three hundred and
seventy-nine feet. It was originally surrounded by two large paved
platforms, the inner one being raised above the other. Around the outer
wall there was originally a complete circle of elephants, each elephant
being furnished with tusks of real ivory. The Moonstone Steps are finely
preserved. There is still a striking frieze of lions running along the
upper border of the platform, and around the base of the dagoba are five
large upright statues and a small sitting one, the tallest said to be
that of King Dutugemuna.

There are wonderful tales told of miraculous work done through the
celebrated bo-tree, a branch of the oldest historical tree in the world.
It was planted two hundred and forty-five years before Christ, and its
story has been handed down in a continuous series of authentic
chronicles. This is believed by Buddhists to be a branch of the sacred
bo-tree in Buddh Gaya, India, under which Prince Siddhartha sat on the
day he attained Buddha-hood, this branch having been sent from India; it
has been sacredly treated, enriched with stone carvings and braces, and
honored with magnificent ceremonies by repeated dynasties; it has also
been spared during the successive invasions of the land. The Chinese
traveller and author, Fahiam, visited it in the fifth century, and has
left an authentic record of it as well as of some buildings in this
ruined city. There are fine columns and many remains of the King's
palace still standing; in addition to which, the monasteries and tanks
all show artistic skill.

[Illustration: _The Moonstone Steps_]

Perhaps a clearer idea of the former splendor may be had by a brief
recital of what chroniclers and archæologists prove to have been the
plan of the Buddhist Brazen Temple, now a collection of sixteen hundred
monolithic granite pillars, standing twelve feet from the ground and
arranged in lines of forty each way; they cover a space measuring two
hundred and thirty-one feet north to south and two hundred and
thirty-two feet east to west. This formed the foundation of the great
Brazen Temple, erected by King Dutugemuna in the second century B.C.
These columns supported the building, nine stories in height, and
containing one thousand dormitories for priests. The roof was of sheet
copper, and the walls were embellished with beads which shone
resplendent like gems. The great hall was supported on golden pillars
resting on lions, and in the centre was an ivory throne with a golden
sun and silver moon on either side, while above it glittered Imperial
Chinta, the white canopy of dominion. It was destroyed, then rebuilt,
and the second restoration occurred in the twelfth century, thus showing
the vicissitudes which this and other ruins have passed through.

The excursion to Mihintale, eight miles distant, was made alone with a
guide, at six in the morning, the other members of the party preferring
another excursion. The drive was mostly through what was termed a
jungle, meaning a roadway cut through the forest and left in its natural
state; hence there was a tangle of vines and underbrush, and the effect
was very fine with the great variety which the tropical vegetation
affords. Reaching our destination, we left the carriage for a walk of
three quarters of a mile through a forest to the base of a mountain from
which ascends eighteen hundred and sixty-four wide marble steps, divided
into four flights, with a landing for each, paths leading to the left or
right of the landings to some object of interest.

The stairs were not difficult but rather continuous, as we found before
we reached the top. In the middle of the last flight was a narrow path
leading to the snakes' bathing-place; this is formed out of solid rock
and measures about one hundred and thirty feet in length. At the back
the five-headed cobra has been carved in high relief; it is seven feet
high and is represented as rising from the water. The sanctity of the
mountain-top in the eyes of Buddhists is said to be due to the fact that
on the summit alighted the royal missionary, Mahahindo, when he came
from India, 307 B.C.; he there met the King, who was out hunting, and
having listened to a discourse, the King became an ardent Buddhist, a
fact which later resulted in the conversion of forty thousand of his
followers.

[Illustration: _Mihitale Steps_]

CEYLON: The Ambustala dagoba now marks the spot of the meeting. It is
built of stone, the terrace around it consisting of numerous columns.
There are ruined statues, columns, and carved capitals scattered about,
showing that formerly this was the basis for a group of buildings. There
are also oblong cuttings in the rock, supposed to be the foundation of
cave dwellings never completed. One more flight of stairs leads up to
the gallery, surrounding the Mahaseya dagoba. The view from this highest
gallery is magnificent; the great plain gave a wide vista, while beyond
was an outline of the distant mountain range; nearer we saw great masses
of green, through which shone the three great dagobas of Anuradhapura.

Before leaving the summit we held a conversation with the aged priest
through an interpreter, and, retracing our steps, drove to the rest
house for a ten-o'clock breakfast made up of coffee and rolls; then,
returning to our temporary home in Anuradhapura, we pronounced the
morning's excursion a success.

In the afternoon we took a drive with a guide through the inner circle,
when there occurred the incident with the priest previously related.

At 6 A.M. the following day, we returned to Colombo, and again enjoyed
the tropical vegetation, the views of mountain and valley, of rice and
tea plantations, and the glimpse of native life which the short stay at
stations afforded. Time thus passed in the mountains and country of
Ceylon is indeed fraught with delight. We had an object lesson in the
habits and customs of the so-called hill-country, Kandy furnishing many
marked examples; there was particularly the large two-wheeled cart with
oxen as propelling power. We were also interested in the Rodiyas, living
in the outskirts, a people oppressed on account of a curse pronounced by
a king many years ago, one of the conditions being the prohibition of
clothes above the waist, both for men and women. The latter are noted
for their beauty, and excel as singers and dancers, but they suffer
under the stigma of immodesty for the reason given above.

Three restful days followed; the hotel wore a homelike air, and the time
was full of content and quiet enjoyment. Ceylon fascinated me from the
first, and after the trip to the mountains and a more perfect
realization of the natural advantages of the island, the impression
deepened.

The native people also struck me as being cheerful, but with more
strength of character than the Burmese, and possessing a certain kind
of dignity that was pleasing. The bazars too were found unusually
interesting on a closer inspection, and offered many new and novel
articles.

[Illustration: _Street scene in Kandy, Ceylon_]

While there were carriage drives, this was our first introduction to the
jinrikishas, and we found them most convenient and a novelty; only there
was an uncomfortable feeling that the jinrikisha man in Ceylon was too
slight for his occupation.

The street scenes presented almost as cosmopolitan an aspect as those at
Rangoon, and with quite as varied a mixture of nationality.

There was a notable carriage drive of eight miles to Mt. Lavinia, a
seaside resort with only a hotel perched on a hill, while below on the
sandy beach were many fishing-boats. Here we whiled away an hour, and
had afternoon tea.

On Saturday evening, February 8th, we bade adieu to Ceylon, taking
passage on the steamer _Delhi_ of the P. & O. line, which was to be our
home until the 14th. We were assigned pleasant rooms, and the general
environment was agreeable. There was little of incident on the trip
until we landed at Penang, Malay peninsula, on the morning of the 13th.
We made a special tour, and noted many beautiful homes with surrounding
grounds and a general air of thrift. We were once more reminded of Great
Britain's supremacy in the Far East; it is surprising, the vast amount
of colonizing, as well as civilizing, she has accomplished.

In Penang, Chinamen were everywhere seen and Chinese business houses
predominated. The Malay was, however, to be found as he should be on the
Malay peninsula. At first it was difficult for us to realize that we had
left the East, Penang being the portal of the Far East, of which
Singapore is the gateway, her harbor being a famous shipping point.

At 11 A.M. we were sailing on for that port, which is regarded as the
Paris of the Far East by the wealthy nabobs who frequent the city. The
Chinese coolie who officiated as jinrikisha man was a sturdier specimen
of humanity than the one seen at Colombo, and we could enjoy a ride
without the conscientious scruples experienced at the former place.

Arriving at Singapore, we found we must postpone our visit there, as the
steamer _Rembrandt_, of the Dutch line, was soon to leave for Java.

It was late in the afternoon when we sailed from Singapore; we caught
some glimpses of the shore and noted the finest group of the traveller's
palm we had as yet seen; also some pretty bungalow homes close to the
water's edge, with tiny gardens enclosing palms and flowers.

[Illustration: _The canal in the old city of Batavia_]

There was scarcely a ripple to be detected, and the elements were
hushed; the brilliant rays of the setting sun shed a halo over the
peaceful landscape.

We imagined there must be some premonition of the event which was to
take place in the night, namely, the passing of the equatorial line; and
we tried to keep our senses alert in order not to miss the subtle
significance of so unusual an event, but in the morning there was the
humiliating reflection that sleep had "won the day"! At noon we began to
realize that we were at Summer's door and would soon learn the true
quality of the tropical heat, of which we had had as yet only a prelude.

The Java Sea was as placid as the Strait of Malacca had been, and there
was little to break the monotony save a passing steamer, a glimpse of
Sumatra's shore, and an occasional island. Another night passed, and in
the morning we were at the harbor of Tandjong Priok, which is nine miles
from the city of Batavia. We arrived there in a pouring rain; we were
now in a land where rain is prevalent, this being the wet monsoon
season.

After a very slight custom-house inspection was completed, we left by
train for Batavia, one of the capitals of Java. We were at once
impressed with the variety of the landscape and the tropical richness of
the trees and shrubs. The Dutch aspect of the architecture and the
canals were evidence of the influence of the fatherland, but the natives
seemed to be a mixture of Javanese and Malays, while the Chinese, as
elsewhere, were to be seen in large numbers.

The canals are the principal feature of the old city of Batavia; but
along the streets one detects also many business houses and banks, some
of the largest being Chinese.

The Hôtel des Indes is located in the new city called Werengen. On
entering the enclosure which surrounds the hotel, a large banyan tree
was the central object directly in front of the hotel proper, situated
nearly in the centre of a square.

On three sides of the square are arranged a continuous series of
one-story suite of rooms opening in front on a wide veranda, shut off
from the adjacent suite by screens of stained glass and shaded by glass
and awnings. This was the salon of the suite, furnished with rugs,
chairs, centre table, and writing-desk. Here all waking hours are
supposed to be passed. The largest homes of the residents are similarly
arranged; such an exterior forms the large drawing-room, often
beautifully furnished. It all seemed new and novel to us, but the climax
was reached when we saw even matrons on exhibition in these show boxes,
dressed in loose jackets, sarongs drawn closely around them, and their
bare feet simply encased in sandals; also stout Dutchmen in pajamas, and
sometimes this costume was worn in the dining-room with the utmost
unconcern, showing how customs vary in different countries.

[Illustration: _Batavia, Java_]

The charming bungalow homes in the new city, surrounded by spacious
grounds, pleased us, as did the business houses; some fronting on canals
which were spanned by artistic bridges. The Museum of the Batavian
Society of Arts and Sciences was rich in exhibits of Sumatra's and
Borneo's products and handwork, as well as in Javanese antiquities and
in articles of silver and gold workmanship, which were novel in design
and skilfully executed. The building is classic in its lines and very
pleasing.

_February 18th_: An early train, 6 A.M., for Buitenzorg gave us the
freshness of the morning for travel, and the two hours thus consumed
were filled with exclamations of delight over the beauty of the scenery.
Soon after our arrival at the Hotel Belle Vue, we drove to the Botanical
Gardens, where, like Peradeniya in Ceylon, a revelation awaited us.
Masses of pink lotus, white lilies, Victoria Regia, and other varieties
of the lily family formed great patches of color on the miniature ponds
that were their setting. Orchids in greenhouses and on trees put forth
their graceful flowers; palms of every description, candle trees with
myriads of almost realistic candles which were suspended from the
branches, sausage trees with veritable bolognas hanging from the limbs,
bread-fruit trees, lovely vistas of the graceful banana, and groups of
other foliage or shrubs surrounded us in abundance.

The Governor's spacious residence looks out upon the park on one side,
and a pretty summer-house overlooking a valley gave a picturesque touch
to the place.[4] The ride around the city showed lovely homes set in
varied greens, and a general air of thrift and prosperity prevailed.

The hotel is charmingly located and has pleasant features. It fronts on
a garden, with a wide gallery overlooking the city. A square court in
the rear is encircled by a series of rooms, with the front gallery
looking on the court, and the back gallery facing a valley (the house is
built on a side hill) through which runs a river with a tiny village on
its border; while beyond a wide vista of cocoanut palms rises a range of
mountains, Mt. Salak being the distinctive feature. Both galleries are
well furnished, and here guests assemble when in the hotel. The view
from the rear gallery I have never seen surpassed in breadth, except
perhaps by that in Granada, when from Miss Laird's balcony (near the
Alhambra) we looked down upon the city, with the mountains beyond.

[Illustration: _View of Mt. Salak from the Hotel Belle Vue_]

The Javanese view was enjoyed for hours, as a heavy rain prevented our
afternoon ride, and the letters that should have been written were
somewhat neglected, owing to the view described.

One shrinks at being called at four o'clock in the morning, at having
breakfast at five, and at taking a train at six, but such was our
experience on February 19th. One leaves Buitenzorg for Garoet as the
first streak of dawn appears; as we sped along, we realized more and
more what tropical vegetation and abundant rain could produce, for the
vivid greens and dewy freshness of the foliage surpassed even Ceylon's
landscape, which in its turn had surpassed anything before seen, even
our own South and Southern California not excepted; Java is indeed the
garden of the world! With remote mountain views on either side of us and
nearer aspects of palms and trees bearing names unknown, there were
interspersed rice plantations, unlike the flat fields of Burma,
cultivated in terraces rising one above the other on hilly slopes. An
occasional tea plantation lay here and there, and some traces of coffee
plantations; the cultivation of the bean has been partly abandoned
owing to the blight about ten years since.

As the train climbed upward, our destination being Garoet, two thousand
feet above the sea-level, the scenery grew less marked, but we were
still encircled by the Gedeh Mountain range. The great Garoet plain
consists of wide level stretches and extended rice-fields, less marked
by terraces than those we had seen before; therein is situated the
quaint village of Garoet, a favorite hill resort, where we found the
noted Hotel van Horck with its reputation for neatness and restful
hospitality. The one-story building has suites of rooms looking out on a
spacious garden, conventional in style, with its wealth of trees,
shrubs, and flowers, also busts and statues. A large oval bed of
brilliant crotons on one side of the garden, and another foliage bed
that formed the base of a pyramidal vase on the other side, were
especially admired.

The pretty little village of Garoet seemed to breathe a spirit of
contentment, and it is quite a resort for people from a lower altitude.
It is also the starting-point for various excursions, some of which we
took, but the daily rains proved an obstacle. The afternoon of our
arrival we drove to a pretty lake, but a sudden rain prevented a sail to
the island in an exceedingly quaint little kiosk, which rests on two
long boats. The bad weather also prevented a visit to the Hot Springs,
where baths of a rather primitive character are furnished.

[Illustration: _A village scene in Garoet, Java_]

The most noted excursion is to the crater of Papandajang. We departed on
this quest, about five in the morning, driving eleven miles to the rest
house at Tjiseroepan, where ponies and sedan chairs were furnished for
the ascent, a distance of about six miles. Four of our party selected
saddle horses, and four preferred sedan chairs (I took the latter). The
chairs are carried by four men, two in front and two in the back,
supporting on their shoulders long bamboo poles on which the sedan is
placed. They were similar to those used in the ascent of Tiger Hill, at
Darjeeling, but seemed to be more like palanquins, for one could half
recline therein.

The ascent once begun, our eyes were riveted first on one side of the
narrow roadway and then on the other, so diversified was the view: first
patches of bananas, then palms and bamboo which formed an archway. Such
was the continued landscape, while intervening spaces were devoted to
the cultivation of coffee. The chichona plant, from which quinine is
made, was also seen, and one or two patches of tea plantations. A
picturesque feature of this ride was a double hedge made of two rows of
bamboo poles with an occasional horizontal support, between which were
vines, low palms, and unknown plants; as we ascended farther low ferns
formed a fringe at the base of the hedge. Never have I seen anything
lovelier than this trellis of Nature, which extended about half-way up
the ascent; then the way grew narrower and we were in the real jungle.
Here surprising wonders awaited us, towering palms and other trees,
vines and giant ferns, some of which had taken root in crevices of a
tall palm, producing a round basket effect. This was three times
repeated on the trunks of several palms, a stray seed having, perhaps,
settled there. It seemed to me as though the palm, if it could, would
utter a protest.

The higher we went, the larger and more varied grew the ferns. There had
been flowers all the way--wild phlox, the primrose, the creeping
periwinkle, and white and red dentura, together with many trees of
brilliant foliage similar in color to our Autumn tints. There was also a
very tall bush with clusters of bright yellow blossoms, in size much
like our wild rose. When nearer the crater, the trees became small and
the vegetation more sparse, until we reached the point where we left our
chairs and commenced our final ascent, about one quarter of a mile, over
broken pieces of lava. Then we arrived at the halting-point and gazed on
the near crater, inhaling the sulphurous fumes, hearing the rumble, and
seeing the clouds of vapor as they issued forth, with a mixture of
bright yellow sulphur. The volcano is now inactive, the last eruption
having taken place in 1772, when forty villages were destroyed. At this
time the side of the crater towards us was broken. It is altogether a
fine spectacle.

[Illustration: _The crater of Papandajang_]

Having partaken of our breakfast at ten-thirty, we prepared for our
descent, when, alas! a pouring rain set in, and as the slight covering
of the sedan chair afforded little protection, there was no avoiding a
thorough wetting. We had thought of the fine views we would have in our
descent, and were now glad of the occasional backward glances we had
taken during our upward climb. These were fine, of great breadth,
embracing distant mountains, nearer ones, and an occasional plain which
is a characteristic feature of a Java landscape. The descent was very
steep in places, and the footing of the men was rather uncertain; hence
it was a relief when the task was accomplished. We viewed some new
features every now and then, a noticeable one being a group of twelve
very large banyan trees of the variety known as Werengen in a field near
the rest house; their white gnarled trunks and limbs suggested the
forest primeval.

The next morning we drove twelve miles to Leles, past the broad Leles
plain, and nearly all the way through a shaded avenue of trees, at times
forming a natural archway. The lake was most picturesque, with its
three islands and varied shore line. On one side there was a small
cultivated mountain sloping to the water's edge. A heavy rain prevented
the afternoon excursion.

We left Garoet on February 22nd, for almost a day's railroad journey to
Djokjakarta.

DJOKJAKARTA, _February 22nd_: We arrived at Djokjakarta on Saturday,
February 22nd, at 4 P.M. A drive followed, showing us an older and
prettier place than Garoet, with a large Chinese quarter, in which the
shops lacked much attraction.

The Sultan's palace was pointed out; it was by no means imposing. We saw
his elephants, but declined to enter the enclosure where the tigers were
confined. Some of the houses were Dutch in style; others were Javanese
of the one-story bungalow type, with open fronts. Early the following
day, at 6 A.M.., we drove to the ruined temple of Prambanam, and nine
miles from Djokjakarta, we visited Chandi Kalasan ("chandi" means a
mausoleum), a beautiful ruin, unfortunately too dilapidated to afford
much satisfaction, but from the remains that have been found
archæologists base their belief that it was incomparably beautiful in
conception and workmanship. We also went to another temple, Chandi Sewo,
about half a mile distant, which also showed marks of great beauty.
We drove on, perhaps a mile farther, and came to a wonderful group of
temples, dating about the same period, known as Prambanam, where we saw
what excited our wonder and admiration. Though the ruins did not contain
a single genuine Buddha figure, holding only many images of Hindu gods,
archæologists find ample proof that they were built by Buddhists (they
have been called Hindu temples).

[Illustration: _The ruined temple of Prambanam_]

[Illustration: _Bas-reliefs in the Siva Temple, Prambanam_]

[Illustration: _The stairs leading to a Prambanam temple_]

Time will not, however, permit an elucidation of them further than to
state that Dr. Gronneman, a celebrated writer and archæologist and an
accepted authority, believes that a number of monuments and bo-trees
have within a few years been hewn out around the base of each of the
temples, these being covered with the traditional parasols; many of the
dagoba-shaped bells have also been found,--a symbol of the tree under
which Prince Siddhartha attained Buddha-hood. Dr. Gronneman also calls
them Prambanam. The ruins form a group of eight temples or
chandis,--three greater and three lesser ones in two parallel rows,--the
former on the west, the latter on the east side of the spacious square,
with two smaller ones at the ends. These were doubtless mausolea built
over the ashes of princes or chiefs. The temples were probably
constructed toward the end of the eighth century, and unfinished
sculptures show that the work was stopped before completion. It is
stated that possibly this may have been caused by the overthrow of the
Empire at that time. There are two flights of stairs on each side, the
lower leading to a landing which is raised a few feet above the terrace,
but in the corners between the stairs and the wall of the basement are
miniature temples of exquisite workmanship, the front and side walls of
which had niches, each containing a high-relief figure of a man or a
woman. The upper flight of stairs (three sides lead to the entrance to
three chapels with pyramidal roofs of their own) have suffered much
devastation.

The largest of the temples has a broken image of Siva, more than life
size. This, together with the nature of the bas-reliefs, has caused
archæologists to name it the Siva Temple. In like manner the second
temple has been called Brahma, and the third Vishnu, thus including the
Indian triumvirate of gods. On the upper walls of the basements of all
the principal temples are several series of sculptures, each following
one division of the wall. Most of the niches contain small lions with
curled manes, while some in the projecting part of the wall have three
heavenly nymphs standing in a stately manner with arms interlaced. A
series of sculptures which has been preserved almost intact on the inner
side of the parapet wall of the Siva Temple is a repetition of the first
part of the Rama legend as told in the Indian epic, "Ramayana," and it
is thought that the corresponding series of the other temples may have
represented the sequel to that history. A ponderous cornice richly
ornamented, which is now almost gone, runs over this series of
sculptures. Another series was found on the walls of the temple itself a
few feet higher than the terrace, and still higher up there is a more
continuous series, but the arches and figures are lost in the almost
general wreck which time and the elements have wrought. Only a hint of
the character of these ruins has been given, but with the aid of the
illustrations, some idea of them, of their entire beauty, as well as of
the imposing majesty of the sculptures, may be gained. The Loro Jonggram
Temple has a celebrated bas-relief in an elaborate niche, called the
"Three Graces."

[Illustration: _The Three Graces in the Lara Jongram Temple, Java_]

About a quarter of a mile distant from the Prambanam there is another
group of temples covering the largest circumference of any other group
in the region. The principal temple, much surpassing the others in size,
stood on a raised rectangular terrace, enclosed by a low wall with a
gateway in the middle of each side. A little lower there were
twenty-eight temples forming a rectangular enclosure, and another more
spacious court was enclosed by forty-four temples. There was a still
larger rectangular terrace with eighty temples, and a lower terrace
with eighty-eight temples, making two hundred and forty in all; hence,
by exaggeration, the name, "One Thousand Temples." Each of the temples,
which diminish in size, forms a square with a little approach and small
_steos_ leading to the inner room. The largest temple of the group was
rich in detail and sculpture designs, which, like the Prambanam group,
relate to the Indian triumvirate, Siva, Brahma, and Vishnu, with the
same evidences, however, as to Buddhist origin. There were still other
ruined temples in the vicinity which could not be visited, but we drove
back the nine miles to Djokjakarta, feeling that we had had a rich
morning's experience and also deeply impressed with the labor, patience,
and skill which these ruins represented.

We arrived at the Hotel Mataram in time for luncheon in the pleasant
open dining-room, leading to a garden filled with trees, from whose
branches were suspended orchids of various hues. February 24th was the
date fixed for a trip of twelve miles by carriage to the Buddhist
temple, Boro Boedor, but the late rains of the monsoon season had
carried away a bridge that must be crossed; hence a grave doubt arose as
to whether we would be able to go. Our enthusiasm, however, led us to
take the risk, with the result that on reaching the scene of the wreck
we found an improvised footbridge and another train awaiting us on the
opposite side. Our railway journey terminated, we took a carriage for a
drive of several miles, stopping on our way at the old temple of
Mendoet, small but very perfect in its construction, with fine
bas-reliefs and large architectural ornaments; also some immense savage
gargoyles, which were especially noticeable.

[Illustration: _The old temple at Mendoet_]

We ascended the stairs to the inner room, where was a large-sized figure
of Buddha, with the attendant figures at each side called his sons,
Buddhavista, meaning "future Buddhas." Driving on, we came to another
missing bridge. Here we were taken across on a rude raft, the carriage
following, and then the horses. As we drew near Boro Boedor, a feeling
of awe came over us, for we were to behold a temple which for centuries
had been buried from the sight of man. Indeed, until the debris of time
was removed, after English occupation in 1811, not a hint of its
existence even had been known. This work was undertaken by Sir Stamford
Raffles before the cession of Java to the Dutch in 1816, and carried on,
aided by eminent archæologists. Much has been done by the Government and
by an Archæologist Society since 1885, and at the time we were there it
was said that about one thousand workmen were employed on the temple.

The approach being over a hill, the view of the temple is suddenly
disclosed, but from the rest house we had a side glimpse. This is
confusing at first, and the structure seems too broad for the height,
thus lacking in impressiveness; but as one approaches and the huge mass
takes on color and expression, with the many-sided pyramids of dark gray
stone, the mass of cupolas, spires, and walls surrounded by a high
central dome, the impression taken altogether becomes almost
overpowering. It is a structure difficult to describe, but a few
outlines with the aid of the illustrations may give you some idea at
least of its size and impressiveness.

First, it is not a building in the ordinary sense and has no entrance.
It is the top of a hill, artificially lowered and encircled with
galleries built by human hands. The lowest terrace, which is shown in
the picture, forms the upper portion of a terrace wall, which is still
submerged below the soil. This terrace has thirty-six sides, measuring
three hundred and seventy-four feet in diameter. Below is a larger
terrace, square in shape, estimated at five hundred feet; it is
underground, while above it is another of the same shape as the middle
terrace, from which it is reached by stairways on each of the four
sides. Some years ago it was discovered that three terraces were of a
later date than the original internal structure, which is more slender
in shape, and that they were constructed in order to support the latter
when it began to show signs of settling. The base of the lower terrace
has been exposed in places in order to obtain photographs of the
beautiful bas-reliefs, but it was subsequently covered, inasmuch as it
would have been a grave mistake to run the risk of leaving it
permanently exposed.

The building above the three terraces consists of four parapeted
galleries, erected upon the internal walls of the lower gallery, and of
four upper terraces, the three highest of which are circular. The
topmost terrace is crowned by a large cupola, or dagoba. The Boro
Boedor, from its base to the top of the cupola, has a height of
ninety-seven feet, while the elevation of the hill to the lower step is
about fifty-five feet, making a total of one hundred and fifty-two feet.
Each of the lower galleries is about seven feet wide, the walls on
either side being lined with sculptures which, if they could be extended
in a line, would cover three miles. We walked around the galleries and
ascended the steps.

In the lower gallery there is, beneath every Buddha, a representation of
a man, on either side of which are groups of three figures, each bearing
lotus flowers and fans.

The inner circle of the second gallery contains, in the upper row,
bas-reliefs representing scenes connected with the history of Prince
Siddhartha (Gautama) from his infancy to the period when he attained
Nirvana.

The third gallery wall contains one hundred and eighty bas-reliefs,
depicting the apotheosis of Buddha. The fourth, in eighty different
scenes, pictures the rewards given to kings who have been Buddha
worshippers, while the fifth contains a large number of images of Buddha
and of two kings, probably the founders of the temple. Other bas-reliefs
that are interspersed represent fanciful subjects and scenes from life
or are illustrations of legends; one of the latter deals with the
turtle, which is regarded as sacred by all true Buddhists.

Staircases ascend from gallery to gallery in a straight line on each of
four sides. These have pointed arches with carved keystones, and
formerly were guarded by heavy banisters and carved lions. The parapeted
walls of the galleries were once decorated with four hundred and
thirty-two niches, each with three turrets, and contained four hundred
and thirty-two life-sized Buddhas, seated on lotus cushions.

[Illustration: _Boro Boedor, in Java_]

[Illustration: _Stairway of Boro Boedor, Java_]

[Illustration: _Boro Boedor, Java, showing one part of the gallery_]

The three upper circular terraces are individually adorned with
thirty-two, twenty-four, and sixteen openwork bell-shaped cupolas, or
dagobas, each containing a Buddha in sitting posture. Inside this circle
rises the central dagoba of huge, imposing dimensions, the final crown
to the whole structure. This is modelled after the same type as the
smaller ones, but its walls rise perpendicularly from the base, which
has the form of a huge lotus cushion in a beautiful frame, and ends at
the top in a slightly rounded dome rising at least twenty-seven feet
above the highest terrace. Of the cone which formerly surrounded this
dagoba nothing is left except part of the pedestal, a stone block
afterwards fashioned into a seat five feet high by ten feet broad. This
is reached by some rough stone steps. The cupola, or dagoba, was at one
time entirely closed, but when opened some years ago it was found to
contain a large unfinished figure of Buddha.

Our party climbed to the seat alluded to, and what a view presented
itself!--a wide valley or plain, miles in extent, surrounded by the
towering Minoch mountains in the distance, with lesser mountains
seemingly as foothills, but nevertheless some of them volcanic craters;
villages almost concealed by the masses of foliage, with whole tracts of
palms and masses of green,--and all bathed in the glorious sunlight. We
sat spellbound, and finally descended the long flight of stairs feeling
we had had a morning's experience which never could be repeated. In the
words of Dr. Gronneman (to whom we owe a debt of gratitude for his
explanations), "upwards of a thousand years have since rolled over the
Boro Boedor; earthquakes and ash showers have disjointed its walls, and
rank vegetation has disintegrated its foundation, ... and shortsighted
fanatics have defaced its works of art, but still the ruin stands there,
an imposing fact, a powerful creation of the thinking mind, an epic in
stone, immortal even in its decadence."

We walked to the pleasant rest house, called Passagrahan, for our
luncheon. Soon the rain which had threatened us fell in torrents, but
neither this fact nor any other obstacle dimmed our enthusiasm as we
sped on our homeward way. To prove my own absorption in the day's
programme I would state that I amused the party on our arrival at the
train by saying to our Malay servant, "Buddha, will you take my wrap?"
his name being Pandox.

The next morning I drove about Djokjakarta in search of photographs and
found the place much more attractive than I had supposed. One long
avenue of trees in particular impressed me; on alternate sides were the
tamarind and the canary tree, forming a perfect arch overhead. This
continued for a long way, and there were various other shaded streets
that attracted my attention.

Djokjakarta is a place of importance, the capital of a native State; the
Sultan preserves some semblance of power and lives in regal style,
keeping up all the ceremonials of his high office. This was one of the
last provinces to yield to Dutch rule. There is a Dutch resident to
whom the Sultan must pay deference and from whom he accepts advice. We
did not see the Sultan, but we saw four sons of his out driving, dressed
in red and each carrying a red silk umbrella, the emblem of royalty.

[Illustration: _A public square in Djokjakarta, Java_]

The life at Djokjakarta is much like that of old Java, and the peasants
are said to be of a higher type than those corresponding to the coolie
class in India and Ceylon, many of this class in Java being Sudanese.
There are several strains of blood in Java, and a mixture of Arab
ancestry with Mohammedan faith; for centuries, Java passed through many
transitions, and it would be interesting to trace her history backward.

Djokjakarta being but twelve miles from the Indian Ocean, the heat is
never oppressive, and the breezes from sea and mountain produce an
agreeable temperature, as I found one morning, much to my delight. The
bazars were not enticing, but there were various attractive articles for
sale at the hotel,--cardcases made with tiny feathers, portemonnaies,
woven baskets, and, above all, sarongs, the product of a large factory
near by, which has been fostered by English and Dutch women as a kind of
philanthropy for the teaching and employment of girls, as the
"manageress" at the hotel explained to us. These sarongs are four and a
half yards long by one and one-half wide, the fabric, though heavier,
being similar to calico. The patterns are quite artistic, and the
process of designing, drawing, stamping, and weaving is complicated.

The Water Castle was formerly like a summer-house in an Oriental garden,
with its underground chambers and all manner of appliances for luxurious
ease. It has now fallen into decay; the aqueducts and fountains are
stilled; the statues are covered with moss, and the gardens are a
perfect tangle. It was the device of a Portuguese architect of a century
ago.

The streets were less crowded in Djokjakarta than one would expect in a
city which ranks the fifth in Java; everywhere there were groups of
really happy-faced children, and mothers looking like mere girls, with
infants carried usually on the left hip, sometimes in a sling over the
shoulders. In Java, as in other countries we have visited, there is no
middle-aged class among the women; they are either young or old,
although in reality not old. One is considerably handicapped in Java
unless Dutch or the dialect can be spoken, for, in learning from others
the true inwardness of things, we are powerless without language,
however much we might supply certain physical needs by the use of
pantomime.

MAOS, _February 25th_: At 2 P.M. on the 25th of February, we took the
train for Maos, in order to break the long railway journey to Batavia.
The ride of three and a half hours carried us through the same
diversified landscape of fertile fields or plains of rice, palms, and
bamboo, with mountains in the distance. One feature, however, deserves
special mention; it was a country roadway, visible at frequent intervals
for at least two hours, and lined on each side with tall trees which met
in many arches. This was evidently a highway or postroad, worthy of
emulation in other lands, and planned by the Government, a veritable
blessing to man and beast.

[Illustration: _Designing sarongs in Batavia_]

We passed a comfortable night in Maos at the Government rest house,
Staats, and left at the early hour of 6 A.M. for a return journey to
Batavia. We found that when we reached a junction, our train diverged
over a new route, giving us a different outlook, not unlike our first
experience, but, it seemed, with finer mountain scenery. First we
climbed to an altitude of about twenty-two hundred feet; then gradually
descended, our objective point, Batavia, being at sea-level. Many of the
high mountains showed cultivation to the very top, while the plains with
their alternate groups of bamboo, cocoanut, and other palms, were green
with the new rice crop, the cultivation of this commodity being
different in Java from that in Burma. Great care is expended on the
culture of the rice, the tiny plants first being put in small wet
enclosures; then, when sufficiently developed, they are planted
separately by the small army of workers, in receptacles made for them,
and set with the greatest regularity. The workers consist usually of
women or young girls, and the varied colors of their dress--or
undress--presented a marked feature. We also saw more coffee cultivated
than on any previous route, and it is to be regretted that the blight of
ten years ago has taken this old form of industry from the Javanese.
Strange as it may seem, we had no Java coffee in Java, the land of the
celebrated brand; nor did we see anything but a very strong extract of
coffee (to which was added a large quantity of milk), good and
convenient, no doubt, but not at all like the real article.

We arrived in Batavia during the afternoon; the hotel wore a homelike
air, and we passed a restful twenty-four hours with only a drive as the
regular programme. I have already treated of the marked natural
advantages of Java, and of the temples; too much cannot be said of this
"Garden of the East," with its varied landscape of alternating mountains
and plains, its wealth of trees in myriad forms, its shrubs which in
their luxuriance seem tree-like, and its tangle of vines and blossoming
flowers. But it appeared to me as if this holiday side of nature and the
workaday aspect of the life in Java did not harmonize, and I wondered if
this condition was caused by Dutch thrift being grafted on to the
native Javanese temperament, which in its incipiency was simple and
disinclined to much exertion. Certain it is that the women of Java,
while apparently contented, look careworn and have deep lines in their
faces, and the perfect cultivation of the soil,[5] which is largely done
by women, shows that constant toil must be required of them. Added to
this is the care of a bevy of little ones--more infants to the square
yard than I had ever seen before.

[Illustration: _Landscape near Batavia_]

These true children of Nature are seemingly trusting and believing, and
they ask no better fate than they have. The question obtrudes itself,
Would life have been easier if the English had not again ceded Java to
Holland in 1816, after only a five years' tenure? This query regarding
the Orient in general also comes up: Is it better to leave the peoples
undisturbed in their ignorance of the broader life and higher
conditions, or to try to teach them ways foreign to their
nature,--efforts which might end in failure? This is the problem that
confronts the philanthropist at every turn, and were it not for the
possibility of alleviating the condition of womanhood, it might be well
to abandon all charitable effort. Scientists believe, nevertheless, that
while it will be a slow, laborious process, much can be done in time;
it behooves us who have our homes in a country where it is a pleasure to
live not to turn a deaf ear to appeals like that made by Ramabai, who at
Pina, near Bombay, is laboring to uplift the condition of child widows
in India. The great volume of missionary effort is also turned in the
same direction, and through schools and hospitals the social workers are
paving the way toward better conditions, in spite of the criticism of
some who derisively speak of the failure to "save souls," without
thinking that the first step is to emancipate the body.

When I regard the condition of the women of the Orient, I feel like
starting an immediate crusade--in Egypt they are slaves or toys; in
India, bound by the iron laws of custom and caste, sad and dejected; in
Burma, happy because independent on business and property lines, thanks
to the English Government; in Ceylon, cheerful but with no recognized
positions; in Java, children of toil; in Siam, fearless and intrepid in
temperament, but subject to the conditions of the Orient; in China,
Manchuria, and Korea, seemingly impassive but bound by traditional
customs, enforced for centuries; in Japan, bright and winsome, true
children of Nature, still held by the customs of years, however much the
barriers are being broken down by the progressive policy of the country.

[Illustration: _Javanese vegetable sellers_]

As tourists remaining but a short time in a place, we did not have the
pleasure of meeting the higher class of women in any of the countries
visited, but I saw a Javanese lady in Kyoto who dined several times with
an English lady; her self-possession and dignity of manner were pleasant
to note, while her responsive smile showed quick intelligence. She had
been the wife of an English gentleman for twenty years, but still wore
the graceful kimono, which showed her good sense. Strange as it may
seem, the founder of Buddhism, with all his teaching of love to mankind,
filial duty, kindness to animals, and moral precepts in general, failed
to extend to women, for whom he is said to have had little respect, any
encouragement other than the abolishing of the law of caste. But,
notwithstanding, he had many women followers, some even becoming nuns.

The vehicles of the countries we visited were always individual, and I
have failed to allude to the peculiar sadoe of Java, a two-wheeled cart
drawn by a small horse, a seat for four persons being placed over the
axle. The driver is comfortable, but the passengers with no backs for
support are tossed about unmercifully. This sadoe has a canopy top; it
is like the jinrikisha, convenient for a shopping excursion, but I pity
any one who attempts to take a long drive in it! One morning I went out
alone, and in turning a street corner I was nearly thrown and my
packages flew in every direction. I felt that I needed a little
sympathy, but the imperturbable Dutch coachman(?) never even smiled, so
I concluded it was an every-day occurrence. A dignitary with attendants
on each side carrying umbrellas is amusing.

The variety of fruit is greater in Java than anywhere else we had been;
the bananas, however, while fine to look upon were coarse and had little
flavor; the pineapples were not as excellent as in Ceylon, nor were the
mangosteens. A photograph I have shows at least twenty-five varieties of
fruit; the pisang being universally used, as well as the rambutan,
durian, pomalo, and papaya. The bread-fruit and jack-fruit grow to
enormous size.

At luncheon (_riz taffel_) I again noticed a peculiar dish being served.
This consisted of rice, vegetables of various sorts, four or five kinds
of meat, and a wonderful mixture of condiments, the variety sometimes
including twenty, all placed in one receptacle similar to a deep
soup-plate and evidently enjoyed by the partakers; this was only one
course of the luncheon!

[Illustration: _A Javanese dignitary and his attendants_]

The Dutch ways of dressing in Java are truly remarkable; for instance,
sarongs, thin jackets, and almost bare feet were often seen in a
dining-room. To me the culmination of this unconventionality came later;
the heat was so oppressive that after luncheon I was glad to enjoy a
rocker on my gallery, and might have envied the couple on the adjoining
gallery had I been differently educated. For, strangely, the lady wore
only a sarong of thin material, a diaphanous jacket, and very low
sandals; she might almost have posed as a life model. As a foil, her
husband appeared in pajamas.

At 3 P.M. on February 22nd, we took a train for Priok port, which was
nine miles distant. The steamer _Orange_ (of the Dutch line) was waiting
for us, and we were soon sailing for Singapore. Once more we passed the
equator without one thrill of excitement, and, after thirty-six hours,
were at Singapore, where we were at once transferred to the steamer
_Nuen-tung_ (the Chinese for "good luck"), North German Lloyd line,
bound for Bangkok, Siam, the trip requiring four and a half days. The
steamer was small and only fairly comfortable; the service was Chinese.
A pleasant feature of the arrangement was an improvised dining-room on
the upper deck; here all our meals were served, and most of our time
passed, the temperature being high enough to prevent the chilling of the
food, which is an indication that the heat must have been rather
oppressive when in our staterooms. Hence two-thirds of the passengers
slept on deck, resulting at about nine in the evening in a veritable
transformation scene. In India we had escaped insects and reptiles; we
were very fortunate also in Burma, with only a few singing lizards in
Ceylon; but on this steamer the cockroaches which appeared at night were
marvellous in size and blackness. Once I imagined there was one on my
pillow, and turning on the electric light, found I was mistaken, but
there were a dozen or more on the washstand and walls--very animated
specimens, to judge by the way they fled.

From the Strait of Malacca we passed into the China Sea, thence to the
Gulf of Siam, and lastly to the broad Menam River, with banks showing
masses of foliage, and with tiny Siamese villages or isolated houses
built close to the water's edge, supported on piles, with thatched roofs
and sides.

BANGKOK, _March 4th_: Arriving at Bangkok, we took the steamer launch
for the Oriental Hotel, which is situated on the river-bank. The canals
leading out of the river reminded us of Batavia. A drive in the
afternoon of our arrival, accompanied by the Rev. Mr.----, a medical
missionary, as a non-professional guide, was a new experience and an
agreeable one, for during the afternoon and evening we learned many
things about the King that a native guide would not have told us. The
report showed the King to be progressive in his tendencies; as the
result of several trips to Europe, he has introduced railways,
telegraph and modern business appliances, and is making a great effort
to beautify the city and to improve sanitary conditions, having employed
French engineers for that purpose.

[Illustration: _The King of Siam_]

I think it might be well to give a slight historical background in order
the better to understand the conditions of Siam. It is thought that the
aborigines of Siam were driven out by Laos tribes from the North and
that they then adopted the name Thai as a sign of victory, Siam
signifying progress.

In 1350, Ayuthia, a few miles north of Bangkok, became the capital; for
three centuries Siam was prosperous and opened trade relations with
China. There were, however, many raids and much fighting until 1536,
when the King was taken prisoner.

The Portuguese commenced trading with Siam early in the sixteenth
century, and soon after gave the Siamese military aid against their
border foes, the troops coming from Goa. As a reward for their services
they were offered land on which to settle. Later, the soldiers married
Siamese women and became domesticated. As they had brought their
Catholic priests with them, conversion of the natives followed, and some
of the old settlements retain their Christian character to this day.

A few years after the Portuguese advent, the Dutch came, but the
English did not arrive until 1620, and during the latter part of the
seventeenth century the three nations were seeking trade relations.
Great toleration and friendliness to other countries seemed to have been
practiced even in that early day; French missionaries were also
welcomed. Soon after, a Siamese embassy left with presents for King
Louis of France, but they were shipwrecked on the way. Later, another
embassy went to Versailles, and Louis XIV, much flattered, sent a return
embassy, which was accorded a great reception in Lopburi, where a treaty
was signed in 1605, sanctioning the presence of French missionaries.
There were several subsequent upheavals at Ayuthia, and in 1767 the city