SPRING OF RONGO JALAN. 21 



sunset at a pandopo, where we ought to have been 

 three hours before. Our friends, the Ettys, were 

 out, and we could hear dropping shots at some 

 distance, but it was too late to join them. A pool 

 of water lay on one side, with much marshy ground 

 round it, but in the centre of a clear spot the surface 

 boiled up with great violence from a strong spring, 

 though the water was said to be 60 feet deep. By 

 means of an old boat I got out to this spot, and 

 found the temperature of the water 76 , that of the 

 air at sunset being 84°. This spring, and that of 

 the Blue water, are about an equal distance from 

 the sea, and no doubt owe their origin and the 

 coldness of their water to the same circumstances, 

 the water sinking down from the high grounds of 

 the mountains, and rising to the surface of the 

 plains at the first crack it meets with. Our friends 

 did not return till seven or eight o'clock, when we 

 walked some distance to our carriages, and then 

 drove by torchlight to Mr. Etty's house to dinner. 

 It is the custom when driving at night, both in the 

 country and in the towns, for the foot-boy, who 

 stands behind the carriage, to carry a long bundle 

 of split bamboo, or of palm-leaves, for a torch. 

 Even in Sourabaya there were few or no lamps in 

 the streets. Mr. Etty's establishment seemed large 

 and handsome. They entertained us at dinner 

 with sporting anecdotes, and exhibited tiger skins, 

 the spoils of past exploits. One of the tigers had 

 been hunted and killed single-handed and on foot. 



