THE CEMETERY. 211 



the greater part of the year, Is simply perfection. One 

 bright morning I went to the cemetery, a large dreary 

 place, which, although at the time of my visit had been 

 only twenty years in use, was already crowded to 

 excess, and I must confess I thought its position by far 

 too near to the best part of the town. My object was to 

 trace the grave of one, who had been buried there at the 

 very commencement of its construction, as the number 

 thirty- three on the register proved, but there was not 

 a vestige of it left. The very stone slab that had 

 covered it had crumbled to pieces, and a damp and 

 clammy atmosphere pervaded the whole place, which is 

 laid out in avenues. I was struck by the number of 

 newly-made open graves, and the significant answer 

 was " they may all be filled by this time to-morrow ; " 

 which gives a painful idea of the great and sudden 

 mortality. Graves have always to be kept in readi- 

 ness. 



My contemplated journey into the interior of Java, 

 requiring the permission and assistance of the Govern- 

 ment, made it necessary for me to call at the palace in 

 order to deliver my letter of introduction ; this, how- 

 ever, was by no means so simple a matter as it appeared 

 to me. I was admitted into the bureau of the secretary, 

 in whom I soon discovered a great adept in the art of 



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