latter is almost invariably the first question which occurs to a native mind.

The Balinese must be clever actors, since all the while they possessed hundreds of Winchesters and many pieces of field ordnance within those deceitful walls. They were deceitful walls, for they were extensively loop-holed, the apertures being cunningly stopped up with mortar. One evening the crisis came. The officers while playing whist—dressed in their lounge clothes of sarong and their feet bare, were attacked and shot down almost to a man. When the poor fellows sought refuge under the walls, hand grenades were fired to dislodge them. A general panic and flight followed. Those fugitives who had managed to effect an orderly retreat, took refuge in a temple about half way between their camp and that of another detachment. It was only then that they realized to the full extent the nature of the terrible disaster, for here they met a poor remnant of that other detachment fighting their way to them for help—they also having been treacherously attacked.

But this was not all, no warning had yet been sent to a third detachment which had been left on the coast. This column, ignorant of any disaster, marched in to the recent camp and had scarcely time to wheel round before the guns in the loopholes opened fire, almost annihilating them, a few only escaping back to the boats.

How deeply affected were the Dutch and their friends, the whole civilized world, at the arrival of this terrible news, is matter of history, and for a time something like consternation reigned in Buitenzorg and Batavia.

After telegraphic communication with Europe, and the fortunate mislaying of a certain message deprecating any prompt action, the Governor General took a popular step in deciding to send every available man to the seat of war, and to render all possible assistance.

This was done, and the Dutch forces subsequently retrieved their fortunes, in some measure avenging the death of their comrades. But it was at no small sacrifice, since Java—the Government of which place much reliance on military display—was almost destitute of troops. As an illustration of this it is related that during this war the Sultan of Deli elected to pay a visit to Batavia. As only two battalions of troops were left it was considered impolitic that he should know it, therefore the men were marched past him first when he was dining in the capital, and then despatched by train to represent other battalions, and march past him once again on the occasion of his visit to Buitenzorg the following day.

The description of the tears of the aged Sultan of Lomboh at the destruction of his beautiful palace, and the marvellous stories of how jewels and millions of treasure were borne away by the victorious General more resembled a page for the "Arabian Nights" than a record of facts in the present day. On the other hand, accounts of the terrible hardships endured by the brave Dutch soldiers sounded more modern, and were only too easy of belief.

The seat of the war was only half a day from the Javanese port of Soerabaya, and enough money had been collected in Java and Holland to pay the cost of the entire war, and yet it was so mismanaged that officers had only rice to eat, and nightly camped out on the ground without shelter in that fever-giving climate.