500 Visit to the Gold Mine at Battang Moring, [Ocr. 
in a vain flight ; his left arm was cut through at the elbow, and body 
horribly mangled. 
We hada fine view of the mountain from Gummi, as the clouds 
which had hitherto wrapt its triple peak in grey obscurity, now rolled 
off in majestic wreaths, revealing to us Ophir’s picturesque proportions. 
We started from Gummi at 9 a. m. on foot : the Malays went on in 
advance clearing the path through the low thicket, through which our 
path now lay, to the banks of the Jerram river, along which we waded 
for some distance ; near this we crossed the track of a rhinoceros. 
About a mile and a quarter from the river stood the deserted house of 
a Malay, the last trace of human habitation; this place the Malays 
call Rullowe, which I believe signifies a place where metal is melted, 
or the smoke which is produced by fusion; from this it may not be 
unreasonable to infer that a mine formerly existed in this vicinity. 
A little in advance of Rullowe the ascent of Mount Tando com- 
mences ; this is the longest but most gradual of the three acclivities 
which constitute the ascent. Having descended this and scaled part of 
Gunong Peradap, we arrived at a steep bank of rock, called Padang 
Battu or Plain of stone. On the right of Padang Battu the rush of the 
river Jerram down the mountain side was distinctly audible. The surface 
of the rock is intersected by numerous creepers, which formed a sort of 
rope ladder we were glad to avail ourselves of. Here we rested 
a short time, enjoying the extensive prospect this elevated situation 
afforded. Leaving Padang Battu far below, stands on Peradap’s 
summit a bluff rock named Battu Serambi, which signifies ‘‘ the rock 
of the porch.” 
The rock was first mistaken for the peak itself, but on arriving at 
the bushy platform that crowns Serambi's mossy head, Ophir still stood 
before us, nearer, but steeper and as lofty apparently as ever. A short 
descent brought us to the bottom of the third and last ascent, viz. 
Gunong Ledang. The trees here are of a stunted and venerable ap- 
pearance, being for the most part covered with moss and lichens, a thin 
carpet of which barely conceals the primitive rock beneath : we had lost 
sight here of animals larger than the smaller reptiles that creep among 
the decayed vegetable matter beneath our feet. 
After passing Gunong Tando, the first ascent, elephants’ tracks, 
which were there numerous, were no longer visible. The solitary 
scream of that singular caricature on the human species, the ‘‘ Oonka,”’ 
and the note of the bird Selanas on Mount Paradap, were the last sounds 
of animal life the forest yielded. 
