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