ined altar
of human sacrifice. Every year the fairest maiden of the Tengger was
the chosen victim offered to Siva, who, in his attribute of a Consuming
Fire, occupied the volcanic abyss. The worship of the Divine Destroyer
has ever been a fruitful source of crime and cruelty, and a tangible
atmosphere of evil lingers round those hoary temples of India dedicated
to the Avenging Deity, whose fanatical followers are reckoned by
millions. Through the inversion of creed peculiar to Hindu Pantheism,
the propitiation of Divine wrath has become the fundamental principle
of religion, and pathetic appeals for mercy continually ascend from
darkened hearts to those unseen powers vividly present to Hindu
thought, which, amid countless errors and degradations, has never
ceased to grasp the central fact of Eternity. The impalpable air teems
with Divinity. Watchful eyes and clutching hands surround the pilgrim's
path, and unseen spirits dog faltering footsteps as they stumble
through the snares and pitfalls of earthly life. In the rude tribes of
the Tengger, hereditary faith reflects the uncompromising features of
local environment. The lotus-eating races of the tropical lowlands,
with their feeble grasp on the sterner aspects of creed and character,
have nothing in common with this Indian tribe, remaining on the
outskirts of an alien civilisation. The creed for which the early
Tenggerese fought and conquered, has cooled from white heat to a
shapeless petrifaction, and weird influences throng the ruined temple
of a moribund faith, but the shadows which loom darkly above the
mouldering altars still command the old allegiance, and a thousand
hereditary ties bind heart and soul to the past.

The expedition to the Bromo, by horse or litter, affords the supreme
experience of Javanese volcanoes. The broken track, knee-deep in mud
and rent by landslips, traverses fields of Indian corn, rocky clefts,
and rugged water-courses. The familiar flora of Northern Europe fringes
babbling brooks, their banks enamelled with wild strawberries and
reddening brambles. Curtains of ghostly mist lift at intervals to
disclose the magical pink and blue of the mountain distance, as sunrise
throws a shaft of scarlet over the grim cliff's of the Moengal Pass. A
chasm in the stony wall reveals the famous Sand Sea below the abrupt
precipice, a yellow expanse of arid desert encircling three fantastic
volcanoes. The pyramidal Batok, the cloud-capped Bromo, and the
se