d in its
pride of greatness, then it grew soft in the blue distance. At last the
railway turns abruptly at Karan Tenjak, and it is gone.

As the train nears Soekaboemi the character of the country changes.
Plantations of sugar in the level country and of tea on the uplands take
the place of ricefields. The name Soekaboemi means "pleasant place," and
the town is the centre of the planting interest in Java. In its
immediate neighbourhood are coffee, cinchona, and tea plantations.

At a quarter to eleven the train drew up in a large and excellently
arranged station. I at once made my way outside. Here I looked in vain
for the horses and coolies I expected to meet me. After waiting some
moments, I confided my troubles to a bystander, addressing him in
French, which is spoken by the Europeans in Java almost as much as
Dutch. Fortunately Tji Wangi--the unpronounceable name of H----'s
plantation--seemed to be well known, and he grasped the situation at
once.

"You ought to have gone to Tji Reingass," he said; "the coolies will be
there."

"How far am I from Tji Wangi? Is it within driving distance?" I
inquired.

"Yes."

"Can I take a sadoe?"

"Yes, certainly."

There were several sadoes outside the station at Soekaboemi. As my
knowledge of Malay, the recognized language for communication between
natives and Europeans, was strictly limited, I asked my new friend to
find out if the Malay "boy" knew where Tji Wangi was. This he readily
did, and told me that it was all right; that he would take me to Tji
Wangi. So I got into the sadoe, expecting to be driven promptly to my
destination.

But the thing was not so simple. After an hour and a half of driving
over mountain roads, the Malay pulled up suddenly under the shelter of a
wayside inn. While I was wondering why he stopped, he coolly took out my
luggage and planted it in the middle of the road in front of the sadoe.
After this very broad hint, I got out too.

"Mana Tji Wangi" ("Where is Tji Wangi")? I said.

For answer he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the mountain.

"Brapa lama" ("How long")?

"Suku jam" ("A quarter of an hour"), was the mendacious and unhesitating
reply.

Meanwhile a cooly, who had been summoned from the ricefields, appeared
upon the scene and took up my Gladstone bag. Nothing remained for me but
to pay my mendacious Malay half the number of florins he demanded and
follow my new guide.

As a matter of fact, Tji Wangi was ten