lands at times. One remembers the hooligans of London, of Paris, of Glasgow. What are they but foul-mouthed, foul-thinking, foul-living savages? No “savage” land contains such beings—but it seldom strikes us to think about them in such a light, we are so accustomed to them.
The roads here are a sight to see, splendid and beautiful roads, crowded with streams of natives pouring in with their produce to the market. There were scores of cyclists, including Chinese and Javanese; many handsome carriages, and also many well-dressed Chinese driving about, and in some roads were trams. All this made an inter- esting, beautiful picture in the cool morning air; it was a charming drive and my companion such good company.
The palace of the Governor-General is a huge, long, white-pillared house.
There is, of course, strong anti-British feeling everywhere—the Boer War so embittered the people against us from the mistaken ideas promulgated among them. You see many remains of old buildings built while we occupied Java— in fact, what the great Sir Stamford Raffles did has left its mark on the place.
But the Dutch speak now quite calmly of “when we come under the flag of Germany,” as if it was an inevitable thing. There is no heir to the House of Orange who is really Dutch, and it seems inevitable to them that great changes are to occur. But it is strange to hear these Dutch—so tenacious a people—calmly speaking as if it were an inevitable thing that one day they must pass under the German flag.
In the Netherlands they have not arrived at this idea by any means; but the Dutch have ever been noted for playing a mere selfish policy which blinds them to outside things. What does it
