As I write these linesa adding a last touch to the slight sketches in which I have endeavoured to render my impressions of this countrya the shrill whistle of steam and the thudding and panting of powerful engines are in my ears, and I see the radiant sky blackened by volumes of smoke. The a campaigna has begun in the Cheribon plains. In endless file the lumbering, buffalo-drawn a pedatisa * creaking under the load of luscious green sugar-cane, jolt along upon the dusty road on their way to the factory yonder,a a great, square, ungainly building, all around which there is a stir and bustle of dark figures, like the swarming of ants around ant-hill. The gate is thrown wide; tall black shapes loom through the semi-darkness of the interior; and now and then the sudden flare from a furnace reveals the bulging, sooty-black mass of a boiler, or the contour of the gigantic wheel slowly revolving. The nauseous smell of the boiling syrup tainst the air.
* Carts the wheels of which are wooden disks.