e wild districts of Celebes and Sumatra they play a
spirited part. The burghers of Ambon show more of the Dutch element in
their composition. The island, Christianised in the dreary mode of
Calvinistic Holland, accepts in half-hearted fashion the creed so
incongruous with tropical Nature. Dutch missionaries, waging aimless
war against brightness and colour, arrayed their brown converts in
funereal gloom. The Sunday attire of the men consists of black calico
coats down to the heels, and flopping black trousers. The women wear a
shapeless gown of the same shabby and shiny material, with a white
scarf dangling from the left arm. These blots on the brilliancy of the
scene produce a curious impression when approaching the wharf, where
the native bronze of children and coolies, the blue robes of Chinamen,
and the gay turbans of Mohammedans, blend harmoniously with the scheme
of colour in flower and foliage. The _praus_ which follow in our wake
make ready the rustic Malay anchor, a forked branch of stout timber,
strengthened by twisted rattan, which also secures the stone
cross-piece. This relic of a distant past can scarcely have changed
since the days when the wandering tribe first launched upon the blue
waters of the Pacific, in that mysterious voyage which moulded the
destinies of the Malay race. A rudimental feeling for art co-exists
with imperfect civilisation, and elaborate carving adorns rude skiffs,
floats of fishing lines, and even wooden beaters of the clay used in
native pottery. A dervish, in turban of flaming orange and garb of
green and white, beats a huge drum in the pillared court of a large
mosque, for the followers of the Prophet are numerous, and though the
usual deadly conventicle occupies a conspicuous place, it produces no
effect on the Arab element. The son of the Dutch pastor who, after his
grim fashion, Christianised the former generation, proves better than
his condemnatory creed, and acts as personal conductor to the sights of
Amboyna. After a rest in the flower-wreathed verandah of his home, and
a chat with his kindly half-caste wife, we visit the gilded and
dragon-carved mansion of a leading Chinese merchant, friendly,
hospitable, and delighted to exhibit his household gods, both in
literal and figurative form. A visit to the Joss Temple follows,
liberally supported by this smiling Celestial, whose zeal and charity
may perchance plead for him in that purer sanctuary not made with
hands, and as yet