goldsmith's
art, and metal statues vie with those of sculptured wood or stone. Here
Captain Cook left his treasure trove from the Southern seas, and the
Council Chamber of the Museum contains portraits and souvenirs of the
great navigators who sailed into the uncharted ocean of geographical
discovery, and in various stages of their adventurous careers anchored
at Java, to display the wondrous trophies of unknown lands in the
island then regarded as the farthest outpost of contemporary
civilisation.

The _toelatingskaart_, or Javanese passport, formerly indispensable for
insular travel beyond the radius of forty miles from Batavia, though
not yet obsolete, proves practically needless, and is never once
demanded during a six weeks' stay. The small addition contributed to
the rich revenue by this useless official "permit," appears the sole
reason for retaining it, now that vexatious restrictions are withdrawn.
In the intervals of arranging an up-country tour from monotonous
Weltevreden, destitute of any attraction beyond the white colonnades
and verdant groves flanking sleepy canals and quaint bridges, the local
industry of _sarong_ stippling affords a curious interest. Every city
in Java possesses a special type of this historic dress, represented on
the walls of temples dating before the Christian era, and worn by the
Malay races from time immemorial. This strip of cotton cloth, which
forms the attire both of men and women, is twisted firmly round the
body, and requires no girdle to secure it. Palm-fronds, birds, and
animals, geometric patterns, religious emblems, fruits and flowers, are
represented in bewildering confusion. The girls, with flower-decked
hair and scanty garb, occupy a long, low shed, filled with rude frames
for stretching the cloth, painted in soft-tinted dyes--brown, blue, and
amber for the most part--with tapering funnels. These waxed cloths
allow infinite scope for native imagination, only a small panel of
formal design being obligatory, the remaining surface fancifully
coloured at will in harmonious hues. No two _sarongs_ are alike, and
the painted _battek_, notwithstanding the simplicity of the cotton
background, represents an amount of labour and finish which makes the
archaic garment a costly, though almost indestructible production. The
graceful _slandang_, a crossed scarf of the same material, only serves
as a shoulder-strap, wherein the brown Malay baby sits contentedly, for
the ugly white ja