r branches
and grass-green parrots flash from tree to tree. Palms of all
varieties, orchids, tree-ferns, bamboos, bananas, mangoes, gradually
give way to slender pines; the heavy odors of the tropics are replaced
by a pleasant balsamic fragrance; the hillsides become clothed with
familiar flowers--daisies, buttercups, heliotrope, roses, fuchsias,
geraniums, cannas, camelias, Easter lilies, azaleas, morning glories,
until the mountain-slopes look like a vast old-fashioned garden. In the
fields, instead of rice and cane, strawberries, potatoes, cabbages,
onions, and corn, are seen. As the road ascends the air becomes cold
and very damp; rain-clouds gather on the mountains and there are
frequent showers. At one point the mist became so thick that I could
scarcely discern the figure of my chauffeur and we were compelled to
advance with the utmost caution, for at many points the road, none too
wide at best, falls sheer away in dizzy precipices. But as suddenly as
it came, just as suddenly did the mist lift, revealing the great plain
of Pasuruan, a mile below, stretching away, away, until its green was
blended with the turquoise of the Java Sea. It is a veritable Road of a
Thousand Wonders, but there are spots where those who do not relish
great heights and narrow spaces will explain that they prefer to walk
so that they may gather wild-flowers.

Were it not for the wild appearance of its Tenngri mountaineers,
Tosari, which is the best health resort in Java, might be readily
mistaken for an Alpine village, for it has the same steep and
straggling streets, the same weather-beaten chalets clinging
precariously to the rocky hillsides, the same quaint shops, their
windows filled with souvenirs and postcards, the same glorious view of
green valleys and majestic peaks, the same crisp, cool air, as
exhilarating as champagne. The Sanatarium Hotel, which is always filled
with sallow-faced officials and planters from the plains, consists of a
large main building built in the Swiss chalet style and numerous
bungalows set amid a gorgeous garden of old-fashioned flowers. Every
bedroom has a bath--but such a bath!--a damp, gloomy, cement-lined cell
having in one corner a concrete cistern, filled with ice-cold mountain
water. The only furniture is a tin dipper. And it takes real courage,
let me tell you, to ladle that icy water over your shivering person in
the chill of a mountain morning.

The mountain slopes in the vicinity of Tosari ar