MONKEY EXAMINING A TORTOISE.
"Then there are monkeys in Sumatra?" said one of the boys.
"Certainly," was the reply, "there are monkeys in abundance. The naturalists have found no less than eleven distinct species of the monkey family, and it is thought there are several yet undiscovered in the forests. There is one monkey called thesimiang, that has tremendously long arms; Mr. Wallace measured one that was only three feet high, but his arms were five and a half feet when stretched out. This monkey will swing himself from one tree to another with the utmost ease, over distances that most of the other monkeys would hardly venture to go."
"Do they find the variety of monkey known as the orang-outang in Sumatra?" one of the boys asked.
"Yes," said their informer, "the animal is found only in Sumatra and Borneo, but he is rarely seen on the first-named island. In parts of Borneo he is quite abundant; and the most of the specimens in the museums all over the world came from that wild region."
Frank asked how large was the largest of these beasts that had been captured and measured.
FEMALE ORANG-OUTANG.(From a Photograph.)
"As to that," said the gentleman, "there is a considerable conflict of testimony. Mr. Wallace says that the largest killed by him during his stay in Borneo was four feet two inches from head to heel; and his outstretched arms were seven feet nine inches from tip to tip of his fingers. The face was thirteen inches wide, and the body measured forty-three inches around. Mr. Wallace further says that he measured seventeen freshly-killed orangs, and the skeletons of two others; sixteen were full-grown adults—nine males and seven females. The males varied from four feet one inch to four feet two inches in height; and the outstretched arms from seven feet two inches to seven feet eight inches. The measurements of other naturalists closely agree with his, and he therefore concludes that the stories of orangs exceeding five feet in height are extremely doubtful.
NATIVES OF BORNEO FIGHTING WITH AN ORANG-OUTANG.
"The natives say the orang is king of the forest, and the only animals that venture to attack it are the crocodile and the python. Theyonly do so on rare occasions, and are apt to get the worst of the battle whenever they provoke it. One of the native chiefs says that when food is scarce in the forest, the orang goes to the banks of the streams to feed on the lilies, and in such cases he is sometimes attacked by the crocodile. His arms are so strong that he has been known to pull the crocodile'sjaws open, and rip up his throat; the chief claims to have witnessed such a fight, which occurred on the bank of a stream, and was won in a short time by the orang.
"The same chief said that the python found his match in the orang—the latter biting the python's throat, and tearing him with his powerful claws. The natives have a great dread of the orang, unless they have the advantage of fire-arms; they sometimes attack him with their spears and hatchets, but they do so with reluctance, as some of them are apt to be severely wounded, if not killed outright in the encounter."
Fred wanted to know if the animal they were discussing was in the habit of walking erect like a man, as he had seen represented in pictures.
"The best authorities say he does not," was the reply; "and I think that such pictures as you mention are far more imaginary than real. He spends nearly all his time in the trees, and when he goes through the forest he moves from one tree to another by following the limbs that interlace. He feeds in the trees in the daytime, and sleeps there at night; his bed is composed of leaves gathered together in the fork of a tree, and he never remains long in one spot. The natives say he finds a new resting-place and makes a new bed every night; but there is some doubt as to the correctness of this theory. When he has been wounded, and feels faint from loss of blood, he will gather a quantity of leaves and form a bed, where he lies down and dies. In such a case the tree must be cut down to get his body, as no amount of shaking will dislodge it; or the natives must be hired to climb up and remove it. This they will not do readily, as the animal has great vitality, and has been known to spring up suddenly and do a great deal of damage after he was supposed to be dead."
"There are some other curious products of this tropical region," said the narrator, "which I will endeavor to describe briefly. There is a frog that flies through the air, and—"
"How funny!" Fred exclaimed. "A flying-frog! He ought to be a relative of the fish that climbs a tree, and travels on dry land."
A FLYING-FROG.
"Whether he is a relative or not of that fish, I am unable to say," was the reply, "but that he exists there is no doubt. He comes down from the top of a high tree to the ground in a slanting direction, just as you have seen a flying-squirrel go from one tree to another. His toes are very long, and webbed to their extremities. The body of the frog is about four inches long, and when spread out the webs of his feet have a square surface of at least twelve inches. This is much more than heneeds for swimming, and we must, therefore, conclude that Nature has thus equipped him so that he can fly through the air.
"There are many varieties of butterflies in Sumatra, and some of them are very beautiful. All the tropical islands abound in butterflies, that arouse the enthusiasm of the naturalist by the brilliancy of their colors and the great size they attain. There are numerous birds, especially of the parrot family, and sometimes you will see hundreds of them in a walk of an hour or more through the forests where they live. The parrot is inclined to be sociable, and likes his fellow-parrots; you will rarely see one of these birds quite alone, and when you do, you may conclude that the occurrence is an accidental one.
"Among the habits of birds there is none more singular than that of the Sumatran hornbill."
"What is that?" Frank inquired.
"The hornbill, whose scientific name isBuceros bicornis, makes its nest in a hole in a tree. When the female has laid an egg, the male plasters up the entrance of the hole with mud, and keeps his mate there until the young bird has been reared to the proper age for coming out in the world."
"How does she manage to live all that time?" said one of the boys.
"The hole is not entirely closed," was the reply. "A small opening is left, and through it the male bird feeds her, and he is constantly on duty around the outside of the nest to protect her from harm. When the young bird begins to eat, the mother takes in her beak the food which her mate has brought, and gives the youth his proper allowance. He is a funny-looking fellow when about half grown; his body is plump and soft, without a single feather, and his skin is half transparent, so that you almost expect to see through it."
"A remarkable bird," said Fred.
"And a remarkable country he lives in," Frank replied.
And with this comment the conversation about Sumatra and its products came to an end, with a vote of thanks on the part of the boys to their amiable informant.
A SUMATRAN BUTTERFLY.
At daylight the next morning the boys were on deck for their first sight of Java. They could see nothing but a low coast, like that of Siam, with a fringe of tropical trees, and a backing of mountains in the distance. They had expected to go into a snug harbor, but found that the harbor of Batavia is more imaginary than real, as it is little better than a shallow roadstead, where ships of deep draught must anchor far from shore.
The steamer came to her resting-place, and the anchor went plunging down to its muddy bed. A noisy little steam-launch came to carry the mails ashore, but our friends were not allowed to take passage in her; they were told there would be a steamer for the passengers in an hour or two, or, if they preferred, they could go ashore on a native boat.
They chose the latter conveyance, as the time of waiting for the steamboat was a trifle uncertain; and, besides, they desired to get to land as speedily as possible. There were a dozen boats hovering around the steamer, and it did not take long to make a bargain; for three florins—a Dutch florin is equal to forty cents of our money—they were to be carried to the "Boom," or custom-house, where their baggage would be examined, and they could find conveyance to the hotel. As soon as the bargain was made their baggage was lowered into the boat, and they were off.
It was a long pull, and the sun was hot. Our friends reclined under their umbrellas, and tried to be comfortable; and the boys wondered how the boatmen could pull away so cheerily and not be fatigued. The Doctor reminded them that the men had been accustomed all their lives to the climate of Java; and what seemed very severe to strangers from the North was nothing to those who were used to it. The men evidently understood the subject of conversation, as they offered to pull twice as fast for another florin; their proposal was declined, as none of the newcomers wished to be the cause, however indirectly, of a sunstroke among the natives.
ARRIVAL IN PORT.
It was a journey of three miles from the steamer to the custom-house, partly in the harbor and partly in a canal. The canal is pushed out a considerable distance into the harbor by means of stone dikes; and the space between these dikes is dredged to a depth of twelve or fourteen feet. Nothing but small craft can come up to the docks; heavy sea-going ships, whether steam or sail, must anchor in the harbor, and their cargoes are transferred by lighters.
As soon as they reached the end of the wall that forms the canal the boatmen drew up against it, and for the rest of the way the boat was towed, or "trecked." This mode of propulsion was easier and faster than rowing, and partly accounted for the proposal of the boatmen to double their speed, as they were near the end of their rowing when they suggested it. At the custom-house the trunks and valises were subjected to a slight examination; there was a polite official who spoke English; and on learning that our friends had only come for a brief visit to Java, and had no business to transact, he assured them that all was right. He asked for their passports, and said it would be necessary to get a permitto remain on the island, especially if they wished to travel in the interior. This they could easily do, he said, through their consul; and then he informed them that the formalities of the custom-house were ended.
THE CARRIAGE AT THE CUSTOM-HOUSE.
A runner was there from the hotel they intended to patronize, and so they gave their property into his hands. It was piled on a cart and sent off, and then the runner led the way to a carriage that was standing near. It was a sort of Victoria, that could accommodate two persons comfortably; and there was an extra seat just behind the driver, which could be turned down and made to hold a third passenger in an emergency. The horses were diminutive beasts, with harnesses in the European style; and the driver was a withered specimen of a Javanese, wearing an ancient hat decorated with a cockade, and having the brim turned so that it would not impede the view in any direction. Fred thought the hat had come from Holland about the middle of the century, after doing duty in a respectable family of Amsterdam for at least a dozen years. Frank remarked that the hat was hardly less antique than the head it covered; and the skin of the one seemed as much glazed as the other.
THE NATIONAL TASTE.
It was nearly, if not quite, three miles from the custom-house to the hotel, and the little horses went over the ground at a surprising rate, when their size and appearance were considered. For much of the way the drive followed the bank of a canal, where they saw groups of men and women engaged in washing clothes or taking a morning bath. Batavia is on level ground, the same as Amsterdam; and the Dutch have tried to make it seem as much like home as possible by supplying it with canals. They have carried many of their customs with them in emigrating to the East, and sometimes to their disadvantage. For instance, they adhere with unflinching firmness to the old practice of taking a glass ofschnappsbefore every meal, forgetting thatwhat may be allowable in a cold country is the reverse of beneficial in a hot one. Our friends reached the hotel a little while before the mid-day meal was served, and they were hardly inside the door of their rooms before a servant came with glasses of a fiery liquid to enable them to get up an appetite. He was somewhat surprised when they declined what was considered so necessary to the health.
The hotel covered an immense area, as it consisted of a series of bungalows of one story, with a central building, where the dining-room and the offices of the manager were located. Between the rows of bungalows there were shade-trees and paved walks, and along the front of each house there was a wide veranda, where the occupants could sit or recline in the open air whenever they chose to do so. The central building was two stories high; all the lower part was taken up for the dining-room and parlors, while the upper floor was occupied by patrons. Our friends were assigned to rooms in one of the bungalows, and a barefooted servant came to assist them in arranging their effects, and bring whatever they desired.
THEIR SERVANT.
The servant was of a type new to our friends, and Frank proceeded to make a sketch of him at the first opportunity. He was a JavaneseMalay, with features not unlike those of the Malays of Singapore, but his dress was different. He wore trousers of striped cotton, rather narrow in the legs, and without any nicety of fit; above the trousers he had a gaudy shirt, with an embroidered front, and a short jacket of material similar to that of the trousers. Wrapped around his waist, and falling to the knee, he had a skirt that appeared to have been cut from the gayest piece of calico that ever came from the looms of Manchester or Lowell; and it was held in place by a belt. This part of the Malay wardrobe is called asarong, and is worn by both sexes; it is usually fastened by tying a knot in one corner, and then drawing the sarong tightly around the waist. The knot is passed under the straightened edge of the garment, and is not likely to slip out of place.
Accompanying this servant there was a small boy whose business it was to bring cigars, and fire for lighting them. It seemed to Frank and Fred that the Dutchmen of Batavia were smoking all the time; and Fred suggested that, if the days were as long, there would be exactly as much smoking.
Breakfast was served in the room we have mentioned, and Doctor Bronson and the boys were shown to the seats assigned to them. Frank made a discovery that amused him greatly, and was equally entertaining to his cousin when he learned of it. It was so unlike the custom of any hotel he had ever seen, that he made a note of it to include in his next letter. Here it is:
"The three of us have one servant; and, as far as I can see, he waits on no one else. In each of our rooms there is a little closet, and in this closet there are knives, forks, spoons, plates, etc., for one person. Before breakfast or dinner our servant takes these things to the general table, and when the meal is over he brings them back again, and returns them to their places in the closets. He is responsible for breakage, and is required to keep the articles clean. The only dishes that go to the kitchen of the hotel are the platters, tureens, and similar things, on which the food is brought from the place of cooking."
Fred was busy with his eyes and ears during breakfast, and contributed to the general fund of information as follows:
"The first solid meal of the day in Batavia is called therys-taffel, or rice-table. It is served about eleven o'clock; and its name goes far to describe its character, as it consists largely of rice. This is the way they serve it:
"The rice is boiled in such a way that each grain is separate from every other. It is served hot in a large dish, and you help yourself into a soup-plate of goodly size.
THE MANGO.
"One servant hands you the rice, and when you have filled your plate with it another servant offers you a round platter or tray, eighteen or twenty inches across, and divided into a dozen compartments. These compartments contain various seasonings, and you may take any or all, or none of them, at your pleasure, and in quantities to suit you. You have chutney, which is a sharp sauce from India; you have red or green peppers, cut into a fine hash, red pepper mixed with water to form a paste, cocoa-nut grated fine, preserved ginger-root, sliced mangoes, English pickles, salt fish dried to a crisp, capers, and other hot and spicy things peculiar to the East.
"When you have taken what you want from the tray, the servant moves on, and another takes his place. He offers you soft eggs, either boiled or poached, and you are expected to take one or two of the eggs to mix with your rice. Then comes a servant with a plate of some kind of meat, cut into small pieces, and stewed with curry-powder; and behind him is another servant with a plate of some kind of vegetable, which has been stewed in curry. Then they offer you cold chicken or ham, or some other meat, to put on a small plate at your side, and your supply of food is completed, with the addition of all the bread you want. You mix all the things you have in your large soup-plate into a thick mass, like yellow paste, and eat with a spoon.
A LITTLE TOO PEPPERY.
"This is the famous Java curry; and if you have taken plenty of the pepper and chutney, and other hot things, your mouth will burn for half an hour as though you had drunk from a kettle of boiling water. And when you have eaten freely of curry, you don't want any other breakfast. Everybody eats curry here daily, because it is said to be good for the health by keeping the liver active, and preventing fevers."
After breakfast our friends went to their rooms, and soon afterwards met on the veranda to arrange plans for seeing Batavia. Somewhat to their surprise, they learned that it was not fashionable to be seen out till three o'clock in the afternoon, and they must not call on any one during the middle of the day. The Doctor said that the Dutch and other foreign inhabitants of the city were supposed to sleep two or three hours while the sun was high in the heavens; but as they were strangers, and had little time at their disposal, they would get a carriage and take a drive.
AFTER BREAKFAST.
Neither ladies nor gentlemen are visible in Batavia between breakfast and threep.m.; or if they show themselves they are not acting according to custom. They lounge in bed or hammock, or in their bamboo arm-chairs, and try to get as much rest as possible to fit them for the fatigues of the evening. It is this habit of sleeping in the daytime that enables the fashionable Batavians to keepvery late hours. They are accustomed to rise early; and by five o'clock in the morning half the people in the hotel were out of bed, and the rest of them before six.
AN EARLY CALL.
Frank and Fred were awakened on their first morning in Batavia before they thought the hour of rising had arrived. The Doctor told them they had best conform to the custom, and so they crept from their beds and prepared to dress.
"That is unnecessary," said the Doctor; "it is perfectly proper for you to come out in your sleeping-suits, and sit in front of your rooms, or go to your baths. You will find that is what everybody else is doing."
Accordingly they made their appearance in their pajamas, and found that the servant was ready to attend upon them. All around they could hear men calling"api!" "api!" and they naturally asked what "api" meant.
"It is the Malay word for 'light' or 'fire,'" said the Doctor; "and the call you hear is for a light for a cigar or cigarette."
When they went to the row of bath-rooms fronting their apartments, the boys looked for bathing-tubs, but found none. Each bath-room had a faucet whence water could be drawn, or it contained a barrel and a dipper, but no other furniture.
The bathing custom in Java is to pour water over the body, and not to plunge into a tub. A tub can be had by any one who asks for it; but he runs the risk of being considered a barbarian, who cannot be weaned from the absurd customs of his native land.
After the bath came the "little breakfast," as it is called by the residents, consisting of tea or coffee, with eggs or cold meat, and a few biscuits. When this was ended Doctor Bronson ordered a carriage, and the morning hours were devoted to a drive.
"We have not quite time," said the Doctor, "to exhaust a single course with the carriage between this and the hour for the rys taffel."
The boys could not understand his meaning, until he explained that the rules governing the hire of carriages in Batavia are somewhat curious. "The tariff for a Victoria," said he, "is four florins or guilders—about one dollar and sixty cents of our money, and if you only ride a few blocks you must pay that price. But you can, if you choose, keep it for six hours without any extra charge, except that the driver will expect an allowance of an hour or so to rest his horses, and a little money for himself by way of remembrance."
"What an odd arrangement!" said Frank.
Fred agreed with him fully, and probably every traveller who visits Batavia will not be long in coming to the same conclusion.
"When I was here before," continued the Doctor, "I took a carriage one morning for the customary six hours, and went out for a drive. At the end of three hours I returned to the hotel for breakfast, and told the driver he could have an hour to himself and then return. He did not come again, and when I asked at the office of the hotel the manager said he would investigate the affair. In the evening he told me he had seen the driver, and paid him, and his reason for not returning was that his horses were tired.
"I thought no more of the matter till I settled my bill the next day, preparatory to going into the country, and found that the full tariff of four guilders had been charged for the carriage. I protested that the man was not entitled to that amount, because he had not given me the stipulated service. The manager said he had paid the bill because that was the law; and he added that the driver would have served me the full time if his horses had not been tired.
"In vain did I protest that I had been unjustly treated; the only answer I could get from the manager was, 'The driver's horses were tired—his horses were tired.' I vowed that the next time I employed a carriage in Batavia I would adhere rigidly to the law, and keep it in my sight for the full six hours, whether I wanted it or not. If the driver serves us well to-day, perhaps he will get an allowance; but if he is obstinate, as these Malay drivers sometimes are, I shall feel like enforcing the law to the letter."
They were fortunate in finding a very amiable driver, who did his best to make the strangers enjoy their ride. He spoke only the Malay language; but, in spite of the absence of a common tongue, he managed to make them understand his explanations, and to show them a good deal of Batavia. The result was that they gave him an hour to spare, and an extra florin for the trouble he had taken.
Here is what Frank wrote in his note-book concerning their first morning's ride in Batavia:
NATIVE HOUSE ON THE RIVER THAT FEEDS THE CANAL.
"Batavia covers a great extent of ground, and is fairly entitled to be called a city of magnificent distances. The old city near the sea is rather closely built, but it is not inhabited by Europeans to any extent. The Dutch, English, and other foreign merchants transact business there during the day; but they live in the new part of Batavia, which spreads over the flat ground for several square miles. The houses are rarely of more than one story, as the country is subject to earthquakes, and nobody wantsto have a flight of stairs between him and the ground when these shakings begin. Nearly every house has acampong, or yard, around it, and this yard is filled with tropical trees in considerable variety. The great streets and roads are liberally provided with shade-trees, so that Batavia can hardly be seen, owing to the impossibility of peering through the dense foliage that is before you at every step.
"A canal with several branches runs through all this level area that they call Batavia, and for miles and miles it is built up with solid stone walls. It is fed by a small river coming down from the mountains, and serves a triple purpose: boats may navigate it; people may bathe there, or wash clothes in it; and the sewage of the city is said to be drained into it. Whether the water for household use is taken from it or not, I am unable to say; but we repeatedly saw Malay servants filling buckets with it, and then walking off in the direction of the houses. Circumstantial evidence was against them; but the clerk of the hotel says the water they were carrying was to be used for washing the floors of the houses and sprinkling the gravel-walks in the court-yards. Perhaps it is the suspicion that the water may be used for drinking purposes that leads so many of the inhabitants to shun it, and take seltzer, gin, claret, and other imported liquids to quench their thirst.
"They have a street railway here, but it is patronized only by the natives, the Chinese, and the low class of foreigners. The track is good enough, but the cars are the wildest contrivances you ever saw; they are common freight-cars fitted with rush seats, and their great weight makes them difficult to move along the way. Perhaps, if they had the proper kind of cars, the Europeans would ride in them, but they could hardly expect to patronize those now in use.
"It was a funny sight, when we were driving along the streets, to see the ladies out for their morning promenade, with their hair streaming down their shoulders, their bodies enclosed only in light wrappers, with loose sacks buttoned to the throat, and with slippers, but no stockings, on their feet. Most of them wore the sarong, or native petticoat, and they generally carried parasols to keep off the sun. This is the forenoon costume of the ladies before they go to breakfast, and it strikes a foreigner as very odd.
FAMILY PARTY IN BATAVIA.
"Sometimes we saw a whole family sitting on the veranda of a house, in full view of everybody passing along the street, looking as if they had just got out of bed and were only half dressed. The men would be in dressing-gowns or pajamas, and the ladies with their hair down, as I have described, or twisted up into tight little lumps, so that the owners mightappear in the afternoon with a fine stock of curls. Occasionally we saw some fat, jolly old women with their hair cut close to the head, in order to keep off as much of the heat as possible.
FAN-PALM IN THE BOTANICAL GARDEN.
"We visited the museum and the botanical garden, and found them quite interesting. The museum contains the products of Java, arranged so that you can readily see what the resources of the island are; and there are relics of ancient times that throw light upon the history of the country and its people. The botanical garden abounds in tropical plants, and reminded us of the garden at Singapore; but we had not time to make a list of its contents. We saw some fine specimens of a tree that had already attracted our attention at Singapore—the 'fan-palm,' or traveller's fountain, as it is called. It spreads out like a huge fan, with the lower part of the stalks quite bare, while the ends are formed exactly like feathers. A small tree of this species would make a very good fan for a giant, such as we read of in Gulliver's travels.
CHINESE PORTERS.
"In the old part of Batavia we saw so many Chinese that it would not have required a great stretch of the imagination to believe that wewere once more in the Flowery Kingdom. In one of the narrowest streets we met a couple of Chinese porters carrying a burden suspended from a pole, the same as we had seen them in Canton and Shanghai, and if it had not been that our driver was very careful we might have run over them. The Chinese are very numerous in Batavia, and all through Java, and a great deal of the commercial business of the country is in their hands. They are engaged in all kinds of trade where money is to be made, and they have the same guilds and commercial associations that they have in Singapore, Hong-kong, and elsewhere. They have their temples and idols just as at home; and though many of them were born in Java, and will probably never see the soil of China, they are as thoroughly Chinese as though they were reared within the walls of Canton.
GODDESS OF SAILORS AND HER ASSISTANTS.
"One of the most common of the Chinese temples is that of the goddess 'Ma-Chu,' who is worshipped by sailors and those having businesson the water. She is represented with her two assistants; one of them is called 'Favorable-Wind-Ear,' and the other 'Thousand-Mile-Eye.' The first is supposed to have an ear that can catch the least indication of a wind to favor the sailor; and the latter possesses a clearness of vision that enables him to see a rock or other danger at the distance of a thousand miles. One listens, while the other looks; and between them they are believed able to insure a safe and speedy voyage to all their worshippers."
As our friends were somewhat wearied with their morning's work, they remained in-doors from the time of the "rys-taffel" till three o'clock. Then they followed the custom of the country by taking a bath, and dressing for dinner; and after dinner they continued to be in fashion by taking another drive. We will let Fred tell the story of what they saw in the afternoon and evening.
"The fashionable hour for a promenade is after dinner, and all the ladies and gentlemen consider it their duty to come out and be seen. There are plenty of carriages on the streets, and also a goodly number of gentlemen on horseback; and it is rather a pretty sight to see the gentlemen riding along by the carriages and chatting with the ladies inside. Then there are many pedestrians—the ladies being in light walking-dresses, and the gentlemen in full evening costume. The odd thing about the promenades is that both sexes are bareheaded. This is all well enough for the ladies; but it is rather strange to see a gentleman in full dress, and carrying a cane along the street, with his head as bare as though he was in a parlor. I am told that the ladies never wear hats or bonnets,and that the only thing of that sort ever seen in Batavia is when foreigners first arrive here from other parts of the world. A ladies' hat-store in Batavia would not be a paying speculation.
"On certain evenings there is music on the King's Square; and at such times everybody goes there to hear it. The crowd is large but very fashionable, as it is the proper thing to go there; and no one who can get out will venture to miss the performance. The band stops playing a little after dark, and then the drive may be said to be at its prettiest. The footman of each carriage carries a torch made of some resinous plant tied into a bundle, like a wisp of straw, and, as the carriages move around and pass and repass each other, the scene is a curious one. All the houses are a blaze of light, as the wide verandas are hung with lamps, and the whole family is gathered there when not out for the drive. The veranda is the general sitting-room, as everybody prefers it to the parlor on account of its being so much cooler.
"Perhaps you are wondering when the men find time for business. Well, they transact most of it in the forenoon, but their offices are open in the afternoon in charge of the clerks. For the clerks there is no such resting-time as I have described, or at best, only a short one, in the middle of the day. When a young man comes out here to seek his fortune, he must do pretty much as he would at home for the first year or two; when he is fairly established, he can have his time in the middle of the day, and live like other people."
As their time in Java was limited, our friends determined to cut short their stay in Batavia, and go at once to the interior. Accordingly, the morning following the day whose history was narrated in the last chapter saw them leaving the city by railway for Buitenzorg.
Buitenzorg is about forty miles from Batavia, and the summer residence of the Governor-general of Java; as it is summer all the year round in Java, he spends most of his time at this country-seat, and rarely visits Batavia except when business calls him there. The name is of Dutch origin, and signifies "without care," in imitation of the FrenchSans Souci. It is about one thousand feet above the level of the sea, and much cooler than Batavia; and the surrounding region is one of great natural beauty.
SOME OF THE THIRD-CLASS PASSENGERS.
Doctor Bronson and his young companions were early at the railway-station, and purchased their tickets for the journey. They found three classes of carriages on the road; the first and second being patronized by foreigners, and the third class exclusively by natives and Chinese. For their first-class tickets they paid six florins and thirty cents—equal to two dollars and a half of our money. The second-class ticket costs half as much as the first, and the third half as much as the second, so that the natives are able to ride for about a cent and a half per mile. The third-class carriages were crowded to such an extent that Frank and Fred both remarked that the Javanese were as prompt as the Japanese to recognize the value of the railway. Men and women were closely packed on the rough seats of the carriages of the third class, while those in the first and second, especially the former, had plenty of room.
"I suppose this is so the world over," said Fred, as he contemplated the difference between the accommodations of the various classes on the train.
"Everywhere we have been, at any rate," responded Frank.
"Whatever accommodations you wish and can pay for," said the Doctor,"you can have. If you want a special train at the price they demand, you can have it by paying in advance."
"It is the same in Java as in Europe, and, to a certain extent, we have similar arrangements in America. We are more democratic in our ways than any other country of importance, and consequently have been slower to make the distinctions in railway travel that exist in other parts of the world. But we are steadily moving in that direction, and in time we will have all the distinctions of classes—special trains and all. In fact, we have them already."
"Aren't you mistaken, Doctor?" said Fred. "Surely we do not have three classes on our railways at home."
"Stop and think a moment," answered the Doctor, while there was a suggestion of a smile about his face. "We have the ordinary railway carriage and the Pullman car, have we not?"
"Certainly," was the reply; "and they are virtually two classes."
"Quite right. Then, on the principal lines of railway there are the emigrant trains, are there not?"
Fred acknowledged that the Doctor had the best of the argument, and the conversation came to an abrupt termination, as it was time for them to take their places in the carriage.
Away they started for their first ride on a railway-train south of the equator. The suburbs of the city were speedily passed, and then the train plunged into a tropical forest. The grade became steep as the hilly ground was reached, and two locomotives were necessary for a part of the way to pull the train up the heavy incline. Frank observed that the carriages were quite narrow, and he found by measuring, at the first station where they stopped, that the rails were only three and a half feet apart. The present terminus of the line is at Buitenzorg; but surveys have been made, and it is the intention to push the line forward and form a connection with the system of railway in the eastern part of the island.When this is done, a stranger will be able to travel the whole length of Java by rail, as he can now travel by wagon road.
VIEW IN A PRIVATE GARDEN.
Since the railway from Batavia to Buitenzorg was opened several villages have sprung into existence along the line, and some of them are quite pretty. They contain the residences of gentlemen whose business is at Batavia, and are generally arranged with excellent taste. The gardens are luxuriant, like nearly all gardens in the tropics; and some of the owners delight in adding wild animals to their collections of trees and plants.
NATIVE VILLAGE NEAR THE RAILWAY.
Then there are native villages in considerable number, some of them concealed in the forest, and others standing in little clearings, where the trees form an agreeable background. The train stopped frequently, anddid not seem to be in a hurry, although it was called an express, and was the fastest on the line. Frank said that probably the heat of the tropics had the same influence on a locomotive as on a man, and prevented its going rapidly. Fred said that Frank's reasoning reminded him of the boy at school, who was asked to give an illustration of the expanding power of heat, and the contracting power of cold.
"What did he do?" Frank inquired.
"Why," responded Fred, "he thought for some minutes over the matter, and finally answered that the days in winter were not nearly as long as those in summer, and it must be the cold that contracted them."
TROPICAL GROWTHS ALONG THE LINE.
The boys observed that the trees in some instances grew quite close to the track. Doctor Bronson explained to them that in the tropics it was no small matter to keep a railway-line clear of trees and vines, and sometimes the vines would grow over the track in a single night. It was necessary to keep men at work along the track, to cut away the vegetation where it threatened to interfere with the trains, and in the rainy season the force of men was sometimes doubled. "There is one good effect," said he, "of this luxuriant growth. The roots of the vines and trees become interlaced in the embankment on which the road is built, and prevent its being washed away by heavy rains. So you see there is, after all, a saving in keeping the railway in repair."
Frank noticed that some of the telegraph-poles had little branches growing from them; and at one place he saw a man near the top of a pole engaged in cutting the limbs away. He called the attention of his companions to the novel sight.
"You will see more of those trees as you go into the interior," said the Doctor. "They grow with great rapidity; and unless the wood is thoroughly seasoned before the poles are set in the ground, they speedily take root and become trees again. They are more pertinacious than our American water-willows, as they will grow in any soil, wet or dry. Wherever a clearing is made in the forest these trees spring up as if by magic; and they run up so tall and straight as to be just what is wanted for telegraph uses."