* * * * *

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.



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 Eugenie 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.



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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 archaeologist, 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.



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 archaeologist. 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 archaeological 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.



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.



Perhaps a clearer idea of the former splendor may be had by a brief recital of what chroniclers and archaeologists 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.



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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.



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.



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 Hotel 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.



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.

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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.



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.



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.



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 archaeologists 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, archaeologists find ample proof that they were built by Buddhists (they have been called Hindu temples).



Time will not, however, permit an elucidation of them further than to state that Dr. Gronneman, a celebrated writer and archaeologist 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 archaeologists 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."



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.



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 archaeologists. Much has been done by the Government and by an Archaeologist 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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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!



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.



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 fell under the strong Burman attack; thus ended the third dynasty of Siamese kings. The Burmans, however, were soon conquered, and the capital was moved to Bangkok. In the middle of the nineteenth century, treaties were made with Great Britain and the other important powers, while Cambodia was ceded to France.

The present monarch, Chulalongkorn, ascended the throne in 1868, and has since governed the country consistently and well. In May, 1874, a political constitution was adopted. The King began his reign by decreeing that slavery be abolished, and he instituted several other reforms. For many years troublous times with France ensued; this finally aroused the indignation of England, and in 1896 an Anglo-French agreement was signed in London, by which both countries guaranteed to maintain the integrity of the Menam valley.

Siam has during the past few years made rapid progress in the adoption of Western ways and Western ideals, thanks to the progressive King, and this is attracting visitors from Europe and America more and more. The country's position has kept it rather isolated; it is out of the beaten track, and is situated between the great commercial ports of Singapore and Hong-Kong. Until recently it could not be reached by any passenger steamship lines. One's impression of the kingdom must be formed largely from Bangkok, as the mountain districts offer no facilities for the comfort of visitors, being a decided contrast to Ceylon, Burma, and Java in this respect.

The area of Siam is about two hundred thousand square miles, and the population is over six million,—mostly native, for there are not over twenty thousand representatives of other powers in the kingdom, nor are there more than two thousand Europeans.

Bangkok, like Rangoon, has enormous exports of rice, teak, and many other commodities; there are large rice factories, and we saw the elephants dragging logs to the river, as in Rangoon, whence they are brought on rafts to the immense sawmills. Unfortunately, a shallow bar at the mouth of the Menam River prevents the passage of large vessels. Therefore much of the cargo has to be carried to Koh-si-Chang, outside the bar, a distance of fifty miles. Koh-si-Chang is quite a favorite resort for the Europeans, Aughin on the coast being another. In the latter place there is a large sanitarium.

The revenue of Siam has been mostly derived from the so-termed gambling and opium farms. The gambling-houses were formerly great sights in the country, but, according to the authority of a gentleman, gambling has now been almost entirely abolished in the kingdom, through the strenuous efforts of the King. He, however, has been unable to effect this reform in Bangkok. For some time Siam has had a proposal before the powers which import goods to the effect that the Government be allowed an import duty of two per cent, which would furnish the needed revenue for State expenses and thus enable the Government to abolish gambling in Bangkok altogether. Thus far, the King's proposition has not been accepted, showing that the interest of foreign powers controls affairs in Siam as well as in other more civilized countries.

We visited several places of interest that first afternoon with Dr. W—— as an excellent guide, going first to the Chinese quarter, and then taking a general drive. We passed many attractive points, particularly in the direction of the new section of the city, of which Dusit Park is the centre. This is laid out in the fashion of a park in a European capital, having walks, masses of foliage, and conventional features in the arrangement of flowers and shrubs. What with the tropical growth, it will soon excel any model the King may have seen in his European tour.

A new palace is situated near the park, and as soon as this was begun, a real-estate development was started around it; the jungle disappeared, roads were laid out, and buildings sprang up. Dusit Park is now the scene of many activities, and a fancy fair is held there every year, with a view to secure funds for the building of the new Wat, or temple, which is adjacent, the old one showing signs of decadence.

Buddhism is the State religion, and the King is an ardent devotee; new Wats are in constant process of erection, and those in existence are lavishly decorated. The new temple alluded to shows European influence in its arrangement, having a cloister around a square court in the rear. Two other temples were visited, and a further drive taken. On our return we went to the place of places in Bangkok, thoroughly Chinese in character,—a combination of gambling-den, chop-house, and theatre, covering in space about a block. The gambling-den was dimly lighted, and on the floor in a large circle were seated men and women, either playing the game of fan-tan or anxiously awaiting their turn. I did not understand the game, but the haggard expressions and restless attitudes around me told a tale of dissipation and ruin. We remained only a few moments, then passed into the chop-house, which was crowded and where eatables of the Chinese type were en evidence in every direction. The theatre was not yet open, but it was spacious, with a large stage. This compound is only one of several, and while mainly patronized by Chinese, many Siamese and people of other nationalities are drawn in. Tales similar to those heard in Monte Carlo could be related. It is to be hoped that erelong the King will bring about some measure to abolish this standing menace to the morals of the community.

A pleasant dinner and much discussion followed. We learned that there were fine hospitals and schools under different missionary auspices, Dr. W—— being Presbyterian. To prove the success of the so-called Christian effort, he stated that the King gave every encouragement to all denominations, and also donated money to aid in building churches, feeling that their influence in the country was good.



The Roman Catholics on account of their priority have a wide field in Siam; they have erected about sixty churches in the kingdom. But there are, nevertheless, several Protestant churches of different denominations in Bangkok and in the interior. A special permit is necessary before visiting Wang Chang, the royal palace, a point of much interest. The walls around the building enclose a wide area, including the old mint and various Government departments. Just in the rear of the Department of the Interior, the sacred white elephants are to be found, five in number. They are, however, at present pale gray (whatever they may have been in the past), which detracts somewhat from the validity of the previous statement. Each animal has a house to himself, is greatly petted, and it is expected that the elephants will be treated by visitors to bananas, and the attendants to cigarettes.

Approaching the palace, the Royal Halls of Audience are the most striking feature. The building in which they are to be found is very large and of a semi-classic style of architecture, the Italian and Siamese being blended. These halls are the only portions of the palace to which visitors are admitted. Fronting this building on the opposite side of a half square stand several small buildings of a pleasing style. These contain antique articles, such as boats, bronze cannon, and other relics in bronze.

One of the most striking features in this palace enclosure is Prakeo, the royal temple. Its entrance is unique, while the Chinese "Devil Protectors" at each side are grotesque. The temple also contains the celebrated emerald Buddha, a figure, eighteen inches high, made from the largest emerald known in the world. There is, moreover, an exquisite small gold Buddha in a glass case, besides many rare vases and other articles with, of course, the usual Buddhas in the shrine. Next to the palace is a recreation ground, called Premane, where golf is played. The race track, however, has been removed to Sapatoom. A very fine Wat Poh near the palace contains an immense sleeping Buddha and many other interesting features, one of which is a small painted dado illustrating the legend of Rama.

The royal museum, Wang Nah, is near the royal palace. It is full to repletion with objects of interest, especially to the ethnologist and to the archaeologist. Some of the treasures are almost beyond price in value, but they are not very well displayed. The galleries are open to the public, free of charge, and the visitors' book is quite interesting, as it contains the signatures of a number of royalties and celebrities. Several of the attendants spoke excellent English and were most courteous in their explanations.



Fronting the royal palace are the artillery and royal body-guard barracks and the Hall of the Ambassadors, where distinguished visitors are entertained during their stay. Not far distant are the royal Courts of Justice, a Doric building, whose interior is arranged in European style. The State barges are kept near the museum and across the river. Some of them are very large and have room for one hundred rowers, whilst most of them are very ancient. These boats are used in the State functions on the river. Almost directly opposite the palace is a naval dockyard. It is not large compared with those of Europe and America, but a great variety of work is carried on. There are large machine shops and spacious quarters for officers and marines, a graving dock capable of accommodating vessels of large size, and an ice factory which supplies the navy and the royal palace. There is also a fine Royal Military College in Siam. Other Government departments show the great progress of the country, particularly when it is remembered that fifty years ago Bangkok had no facilities whatsoever.

In the afternoon we took a steam launch to explore different canals. The first we visited in order to acquaint ourselves with the traffic and with various kinds of boats, some being loaded at warehouses along the way. The buildings were very unusual, as were the sights on the water. We then went on the river Menam, to visit certain temples. Among these were Wat Saket, which stands on the summit of an artificial hill and commands a fine view; and Wat Kanayat, where there was a collection of porcelain-trimmed temples and pagodas. We attended a short, intoned Buddhist service in one of the temples. In another, Wat Cheng, we had our fortunes told in the following manner: we each drew from a vase a long, narrow slip of paper with a number on it, then we proceeded to a priest, robed in yellow silk, presented our number, paid a fee, and in return received a pink paper containing a great many hieroglyphics, which our guide was able to interpret. Each fortune was rather peculiar and diversified in details. We, however, did not attach any importance to what was told us.

The roofs of some of the Wats are very handsome, the parti-colored tiles of which they are composed adding to their effect, whilst the pointed upturned gables, a feature peculiar to Siamese architecture, also added in no small degree to their picturesqueness.

All the principal Wats are accessible to visitors, but it is necessary to have with you a guide who can explain the different features. Sometimes the priests have a knowledge of English. Many of the Wats are suffering greatly from the ravages of time, and some are almost ruined. Of course this applies to the more remote temples, those in the vicinity of the palace being beautifully cared for. The King and other members of the royal family spend vast sums upon the temples; nobles and wealthy Siamese likewise contribute largely to the funds, but all their efforts are not sufficient to keep the numberless places in proper condition.



The King, who is now the sole reigning Buddhist monarch, takes the greatest interest in the maintenance of his faith and everything belonging to it. He is an ardent Pali scholar, and has established a college for the study of that ancient language. Nearly every State function which takes place within the palace walls is associated with some religious service, and the Buddhist faith seems to be deeply rooted in the heart of the Siamese people. The sacred books used in the temples are of palm-leaf, similar in style to those seen in Burma; a large number of women are employed in a factory for their manufacture, while many men are also there for the purpose of engraving characters on the palm-leaf with a set of special implements.

It had been a perfect afternoon, and the shores of the broad river Menam (meaning "Mother of Waters") were more than usually interesting on account of the novel architectural display, temples alternating with buildings of various descriptions, most of them gleaming white in the sun. We made a detour into the Klong Canal, which led out of the river some miles from our starting-point. Soon we had an entirely different type of scenery, similar to the jungle; dense vegetation came quite to the edge of the canal. In places there would be two, three, or even more Siamese houses built high on piles, with thatched roofs and sides and an open front, the home life of the inmates being distinctly seen through the open front. Of course our launch served to collect all the curious in groups, from infants to grandparents. Ever and anon tiny boats passed us, the rowers singing or twanging some kind of an instrument with that happy unconsciousness of responsibility which seems to characterize the Siamese, reminding one of the days in Rangoon.

We came at last to a point where navigation was impeded because of a large vessel aground, and after skilful manoeuvring and some minutes' delay, our launch proceeded on the homeward way. Night was upon us before we left the canal, and as the twilight faded, the gleaming of the lights in the little homes put a finishing touch to the picture. Once on the broad river, the shore effect was more wonderful than by day, and we lost all note of time until we were told at the hotel landing that it was half-past seven o'clock.

The following morning we left, at half-past six, for an excursion by rail and river to the old capital, Ayuthia. The ride of three hours in a car presented no special features. But we then took a steam launch and proceeded some miles farther in order to visit the ruins of the old palace and the elephants' kraal. Skirting in and out, we saw about three miles of houseboats on sampans. This was a most interesting spectacle, all kinds of traffic being carried on, some space aboard being reserved for the family. There were boats for the sale of flowers and vegetables, others for household commodities, and some had crockery and glass and baskets. We then visited two temples. The ruins cover an immense space of ground and are a fine field for archaeologists, but we had no means of classifying them and our guide was not scientific. Many of the most interesting relics are surrounded by a dense jungle which makes them difficult of access, but one receives a certain impression of the ancient grandeur of the place.

Tradition states that the custom of wearing the hair short by Siamese women dates from the days when Ayuthia was a capital. It is said that during one of the political invasions by the Burmans most of the men were absent in the harvest fields. The women accordingly cut their hair, took bows and arrows and spears, and manned the city walls. The Burmans, thinking they were men, were astonished at finding such a strong garrison and retired, much discomfited. It is also said that the women then adopted the same dress as the men, the panung, a garment something like the sarong but drawn up in the middle, front and back. The cutting of the hair and the peculiar garb make it difficult to tell the Siamese women from the men. The style is distinctive with the women, as all of the surrounding people—the Burmans, Laos, and Malays—wear the sarong.

A walk of ten minutes from Wang Chang brought us to the famous elephants' kraal, or enclosure, into which the elephants are driven to be captured and tamed. This is a massive structure of teak logs, with a kind of V-shaped passage leading to it. When a hunt is to occur, the places frequented by the elephants are noted weeks beforehand, and they are gradually surrounded by some hundreds of men mounted upon trained elephants and also afoot, the elephants being gradually driven towards the entrance of the kraal. Within, there is an exciting scene, as the ponderous, awkward animals find themselves pressed onwards en masse through the massive gate into the enclosure. Once inside, they are dexterously captured by long leg ropes, whilst their struggles are kept from assuming dangerous proportions by trained elephants which range up alongside of them and aid their masters in every possible way, apparently taking quite a delight in the task. These hunts occur at regular intervals, and are generally attended by a large number of foreign visitors. Accidents, even deaths, sometimes happen, but these are not frequent. We regretted we were not in Siam at the proper season to witness such a scene.



After a picnic luncheon, we proceeded down the river, stopping at different points to visit temples of varying interest; one was particularly noteworthy, as it contained a very large Buddha in the back of the temple and a row of brass Buddhas around three of its sides, some of them in fine repousse work. At Ban Pa In we left the launch to take the train. Here the King has two palaces.

Ban Pa In is on an island in the Menam River. One handsome palace is in the European style, and another is of a pure Chinese pattern. There is a modern temple of Gothic style, built fifteen years ago. Near the palace a tower affords a fine view.

We arrived at Bangkok late in the afternoon, feeling well pleased with our day's excursion.

Fifty years ago Bangkok had none of the public buildings to be seen to-day,—perhaps a mile of good road and streets in only fair condition; now there are numerous drives and perfect communication to every point of the city. There are twelve miles of electric railway line, soon to be extended, while leading out from Bangkok are hundreds of miles of well-equipped railways. Jinrikishas are used in Bangkok, but with foreigners carriages are preferred. The native street, called Sampeng, is really a Chinese-Siamese combination, and might be termed a bazar on the order of those visited in previous cities. The streets, filled with strong odors, are small lanes running parallel with the river, and to me were less interesting than previous bazars, the venders seeming to be apathetic and having less variety of goods. This impression may, however, have been due to the midday hour, for the natives, understanding the climate, are only alert during the mornings and evenings. The season may also have lessened the dash and excitement of the street. We were told there were quite as many tribes and nationalities represented in Bangkok as in Singapore, and such a mixture usually means novelty. The dress and undress in Siam afforded variety, the men and women nearly alike, for, as stated in the description in connection with Ayuthia, the women have short hair and wear the panung precisely like the men.

The guides in Siam are not very competent, and could give us only ordinary information, so there was little for us to do but to speculate on certain points.



There are several interesting towns which are within a few hours' railway communication with Bangkok, but we could only read of them, as none of them had hotels or even rest houses for the convenience of tourists. This state of things will be remedied as soon as it is realized that the outside world is interested in this far-away kingdom, the first tourist party having visited Siam only two years ago. We were hampered before reaching this country by the lack of a guide-book (as we had been in Java), Murray's enlightening knowledge having extended only through India, Burma, and Ceylon; but after our arrival in Bangkok we found some local guide-books, from which we learned of the towns alluded to.

Petchaburi seemed one of the most interesting on account of the wonderful caves and temples, a description of which I will give in brief, in order to prove that Siam, like the other countries previously visited, has unusual attractions along these lines. The railway to Petchaburi was opened in 1902, and the journey takes five and a half hours from Bangkok. It is an old historic town of much importance and the centre of a very populous district. It is picturesquely situated on both banks of the stream, curving seaward at the foot of some wooded hills. One of the hills is crowned with the royal palace and another with a handsome temple. The palace is a magnificent edifice and commands wide views on all sides, the sea being clearly seen from the observatory. The hill on which is situated the temple, and its companion, are known as Kow Wang.

Descending a well-constructed, if somewhat precipitous, staircase for what must be fully a hundred feet, we find ourselves in a cave from which a very spacious archway leads into a huge vaulted chamber. The first impression is one of acute astonishment, by no means lessened, even after one becomes accustomed to the dim light inside. By rough calculation the cave is about two hundred yards long by one hundred wide. The floor is paved throughout with tiles, and at every turn there is an image of Buddha. At one end there is a statue fully fifteen feet high in a niche fronting the entrance, and near by is one twelve feet high. In a wide passage, leading to another extensive cave, is a statue of the sleeping Buddha, apparently about fifteen feet long, and in the semi-gloom which surrounds him, suggestive of eternal calm and peace. In this cave are more Buddhas, sitting, standing, and reclining.

Thence, on through a somewhat low and dark tunnel, we go to yet another cave, from which a short passage leads upward to what was the original dark entrance. This is now impassable, as the stairs have collapsed. Many curious stalactites are in clusters, some like inverted lilies and others like canopies or umbrellas; they are of all sizes, ranging from a few inches to several feet in diameter and some are tinted in various shades. The caves are well worth visiting, and a view of them will adequately repay the time and expense of the journey from Bangkok. In the centre of the town and near a quaint wooden bridge stands Wat Mahathal, conspicuous by reason of its unfinished brick tower, on the summit of which a couple of trees are growing; a quadrangle surrounding this contains one hundred and ninety-five images of Buddha, which are of interest if only because of the different expressions of their countenances.