uals in all the world. Far in the distance rises
the majestic, cloud-wreathed cone of Salak, its wooded slopes wrapped
in a cloak of purple-gray. From its foot, cutting a way toward
Buitenzorg through a sea of foliage, is a ribbon of brown--the Tjidani
River. Its banks, lined by miles of waving palms, are crowded with the
quaint, thatched dwellings of the natives, hundreds of whom--men, women
and children--are bathing in its water. One of the most curious and
amusing sights in Java is that of the native women bathing in the
streams. They enter the river wearing their sarongs, gradually raise
them as they go deeper into the stream, slip them over their heads when
the water has reached their armpits, and, when they have completed
their ablutions, reverse the process, thus achieving the feat of
bathing in full view of hundreds of spectators without the slightest
improper revelation. Hawkinson set up his camera on the bank of the
Tjidani and spent several hundred feet of film in recording one of
these performances. Even the Pennsylvania State Board of Censors will
be unable to find any objection to _that_ bathing scene.

Though the gardens of Buitenzorg are a veritable treasure-house for the
botanist and the horticulturist--for the Dutch are the best gardeners
in the world--from the standpoint of the casual visitor they cannot
compare, to my way of thinking, with the Peradenya Gardens of Ceylon.
It is beyond all doubt, however, the finest collection of tropical
trees and plants in existence. Here, besides full-grown specimens of
every known tree of the torrid zone, are culture gardens for sugar
cane, coffee, tea, rubber, ilang-ilang; for all the spice, gum, and
fruit trees; for bamboo, rattan, and the hard woods, such as mahogany
and teak--in short, for every variety of tree or plant of commercial,
ornamental, or utilitarian value. There are also gardens for all the
gorgeous flowers of Java: the frangipani, the wax-white, gold-centered
flower of the dead, the red and yellow lantanas, the scarlet poinsetta,
the crimson bougainvillea, and others in bewildering variety. There are
greenhouses to shelter the rarer and more sensitive plants--to shelter
them not, as in our hothouses, from the cold, but, on the contrary,
from the heat and the withering rays of the sun. Here too is one of the
finest collections of orchids in existence, tended by an ancient
Javanese gardener who is as proud of his curious blooms as a trainer is
of hi