A£pSbV?i™'};    Botanical  Garden  at  Buitenzorg.  455 
villages  where  the  native  children  jumped  and  clapped  their  hands 
with  glee  as  the  great  Juggernaut  vehicle  rolled  by.  We  visited 
the  grave  of  Radin  Saleh,  a  lonely  little  pavilion  or  temple  in  a 
tangle  of  shrubbery  that  was  once  a  lovely  garden  shaded  by  tall 
cocoa-palms;  and  we  drove  to  Batoe  Toelis,  "the  place  of  the  writ- 
ten stone,"  and  in  the  little  thatched  basket  of  a  temple  saw  the 
sacred  stone  inscribed  in  ancient  Kawi  characters,  the  original  clas- 
sic language  of  the  Javanese.  In  another  basket  of  a  shrine  we 
were  shown  the  veritable  foot- prints  of  Buddha,  with  no  explanation 
as  to  how  and  when  he  rested  on  the  island,  nor  yet  how 
he  happened  to  have  such  long,  distinctively  Malay  toes. 
Near  these  temples  is  the  villa  where  the  poor  African  prince  of 
Ashantee  was  so  long  detained  in  exile— an  African  chief  whose 
European  education  had  turned  his  mind  to  geology  and  natural 
sciences,  and  who  led  the  life  of  a  quiet  student  here  until,  by  the 
change  of  Ashantee  from  Dutch  to  British  ownership,  a  way  was 
opened  for  him  to  return  to  and  die  in  his  own  country.  There  is  a 
magnificent  view  from  the  Ashantee  villa  out  over  a  great  green 
plain  and  a  valley  of  palms  to  the  peaks  of  Gedeh  and  Pangerango, 
and  to  their  volcanic  neighbor,  Salak,  silent  for  200  years.  Peasants, 
trooping  along  the  valley  roads  far  below,  made  use  of  a  picturesque 
bamboo  bridge  that  is  accounted  one  of  the  famous  sights  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  seemed  but  processions  of  ants  crossing  a 
spider's  web.  All  the  suburban  roads  are  so  many  botanical  exhi- 
bitions approaching  that  in  the  great  garden,  and  one's  interest  is 
claimed  at  every  yard  and  turn. 
It  takes  a  little  time  for  the  temperate  mind  to  accept  the  palm- 
tree  as  a  common,  natural  and  inevitable  object  in  every  outlook  and 
landscape;  to  realize  that  the  joyous,  living  thing  with  restless, 
perpetually  thrashing  foliage  is  the  same  correct,  symmetrical,  mo- 
tionless feather-duster  on  end  that  one  knows  in  the  still  life  of  hot- 
houses and  drawing-rooms  at  home  ;  to  realize  that  it  grows  in  the 
ground,  and  not  in  a  pot  or  tub  to  be  brought  indoors  for  the 
winter  season.  The  arches  of  gigantic  kanari  trees  growing  over 
by-lanes  and  village  paths,  although  intended  for  triumphal  avenues 
and  palace  driveways,  overpower  one  with  the  mad  extravagance, 
the  reckless  waste  and  the  splendid  luxury  of  nature.  The  poorest 
may  have  his  hedge  of  lantana,  which,  brought  from  the  Mauritius 
by  Lady  Raffles,  now  borders  roads,  gardens  and  the  railway  tracks 
