notwithstanding its proximity to an extensive swamp. Its safeguard against the malaria we might naturally look for in this situation, is the tide, which flows over the marsh twice a day, and keeps it sweet.

During the Java war, a small volunteer corps of cavalry was formed here, the members of which, in their zeal, offered their services to join a party who were proceeding to Damak, (a small village about forty miles off,) to put down a body of armed rebels. Poor fellows! they went out in high spirits, but trusted too much to their unbroken horses, which took fright, and threw them into inextricable confusion on hearing the first volley. The sad consequences of this rash though gallant day's work, were, the death of seven young English gentlemen, all highly respected, and sincerely regretted by their countrymen. They were all personal friends of my own. I well remember the gloom which the intelligence cast over the society at Batavia.

In and about Samarang may be collected any number of the beautiful Java poneys, animals unsurpassed for symmetry in any part of the world.[3] The work they perform is beyond belief. Ten miles an hour is the common rate of travelling post: four of them are generally used for this purpose, and the stages are from seven to nine miles, according to the nature of the country. When within half-a-mile of the first house where relays are kept, the native coachman cracks his long, unwieldy whip, which can be heard at a great distance. At this signal, the grooms harness the four poneys whose turn for work it is; and, by the time your carriage halts under the shed that crosses the road at every post-house, the fresh poneys are to be seen coming out of the stable, all ready for the next stage. Your attention is then attracted by a man with a stout bamboo, some eight feet long, in his hand, full of water, which he pours over the naves of the wheels, to cool them. By this time, the tired poneys are unhooked, the fresh ones put-to, and away rattles the carriage again with its delighted passengers. I know nothing more exciting and agreeable than a ramble amongst the mountains of this favoured isle, under the direction of the post establishment.

From Samarang, early in 1824, I posted with a friend to Solo and Djockdjocarta, the ancient seats of the Emperors and Sultans of this part of Java. They are now shorn of their splendour; but they still possess novelty enough to attract a stranger. On our route, we visited some beautiful coffee-plantations, and passed through the pretty and romantic-looking village of Salatiga.[4] We had a splendid view of the far-famed Gunung Marapi, or fire-mountain; and, on every side, we saw evidence of the thriving condition of this magnificent part of Java.

At Solo, I was so fortunate as to be present at the then Emperor's marriage; a scene which brought painfully to mind the fallen state of the chiefs of this neighbourhood, by its being superintended by the Dutch Resident at the Court. There were three days' feasting, royal salutes from the imperial guard, Javanese music, and dancing girls in great numbers; but I found the whole affair very fatiguing. Fallen as was the Emperor's state at that time, it subsequently became much more reduced, in consequence of his having been found guilty of being secretly concerned in the late war or rebellion. He has long since followed his friend and coadjutor, Diepo Nogoro. A tool of the Dutch Government now reigns in his stead, who cannot even leave his house for twenty-four hours without permission from the Resident at his Court.

One day, I accompanied a party of friends to see the Emperor's tigers, a number of which animals he generally had ready for exhibitions similar to those already described. We found one very noble fellow confined in a house some fifteen feet square, formed of the trunks of cocoa-nut trees, placed about five inches apart. On looking through, we saw the tiger in the position usually chosen by a dog when he wants to warm his face at the fire. Hearing our approach, he stared us steadily in the face for about a minute, and then made a spring at us, so suddenly that he came with his whole force against the bars, before we had time to move a step. The shock shook the building, as well as our nerves, not a little, though we were of course scatheless.

At Solo, I first tasted the Javanese "Findhorn haddock," which is, in fact, a trout caught in the beautiful Solo river. After being cleaned, it is wrapped up in a bundle of rice-straw, which is forthwith set on fire; and as soon as the straw is consumed, the fish is ready for eating, and really resembles in flavour its celebrated name-sake.

In the neighbourhood of Solo, a bold sportsman may find game to his liking, and willing natives to guide him in his search after tigers, wild hogs, the huge boa, deer, snipe, and quail. In pursuit of the last, too many a fever is caught, through the imprudence of young men in staying out too late in the day, and in keeping on their wet and soiled clothes and shoes during their ride or drive home. A little attention to such apparent trifles would save many a valuable life. Deer and wild-hog are generally pursued and shot by a party armed with rifles, who post themselves along one side of a jungle, while a party of natives advance from the opposite, driving the game before them with long poles and shouting. Great care must be taken by the sportsman, on these occasions, not to fire too soon: if he fires into the jungle, he runs the risk of shooting one of the bush-beaters; if to the right or left, he may plant his bullet in the breast of one of his companions. He must reserve his fire till the game is fairly out of the bush, and in rear of the line of rifles, when he may turn round and deliver his charge. I recollect a fatal accident happening near Salatiga, through a gentleman's deviating from the strict rule, never to change your position when once placed by the leading sportsman. A party were out after hogs by moonlight, when one gentleman, thinking he heard a noise as of an approaching porker on his left, very imprudently got on his hands and knees to crawl round in the hope of getting the first shot. The sportsman stationed next to him got a glimpse of him on the path, and mistaking him in the uncertain light for a hog or other wild animal, fired his rifle without a moment's hesitation, and mortally wounded his unfortunate friend, who lived just long enough to acknowledge his error, and to beg that no blame might be attached to the individual who caused his death. Poor fellow! he paid dearly for his imprudence.

Solo is protected by a small fort, which is always garrisoned by European troops, the Government not choosing to trust native soldiers in that part of the country. For this, no one can blame the Dutch; for the chiefs require looking after, and are apt to give trouble. While the Island was held by the British Government, a mutiny broke out at Solo among the Bengal sepoys: on its suppression, it was found they had been tampered with by these chiefs, and that numbers had been gained over to their cause.

Nothing can exceed the hospitality of the Dutch inhabitants of this part of Java: their houses are always open to the stranger, of whom they think too much cannot be made. The Resident's establishment is a splendid one, and to his liberality and hospitality I can testify from