sedan-chairs, the last resource for the more aged tourists.
All information about trips and the like are obtained at the office, the manageras kingdom. Here you order the quantity of victuals and the number of horses you want, and here you fix the hour of departure; then you are drummed out of bed mercilessly and find the horses ready to receive their burdens.
Finally I must draw the attention of photographers to the dark chamber, a as for subject-matter, the Tengger is inexhaustible in that respect.
The situation of Tosari is sublime. Being built on the lofty ridge, it commands an overwhelmingly wide view. On both sides are deep ravines between this and the neighbouring ridges, which carry other villages: Wanakitri and Sedaeng to the east, westward Kertanom. Far below the bluish plains in their vague secondary hues, with sugar-factories looking like tiny, white blocks; the graceful curve of the coast-line embracing the silvery glitter of the sea; the shining ribbon of the Kali Porrong just in the corner, and sometimes in the distant north the Isle of Madura.
Westward the view is blocked by slender volcanoes: the Penanggunganas symmetric cone, a lonely outpost of slim and elegant stature seemingly, though 5500 feet high; the multitopped Ardjuna with its noble lines reaching 11000 feet; its northern crater, the Welirang, tinged a rosy yellow by sulphorous sediments and crowned by transparent wafts of smoke; south of it the long-stretched Kawi and farther away between them the calamitous Kelut.
But the greatest charm of Tosari are the ever-changing clouds,
and the starry clearness of the nights. The rising sun rarely finds more than a rosy haze enveloping the mountain-tops, and may-be a motionless stratus, hovering over the Brantas valley; then, about ten or eleven oaclock they appear, the cloudy hordes; large, bulging, dazzlingly white sails; snowy mountain-ridges with yawning clefts in their sides; armies of silver-clad knights
with burning helmets and flowing banners; or grey, ferocious Hun warriors dashing onward madly. Then again, when the air is undisturbed, an abrupt wall of clouds will float gently towards us, a magic ice-floe; or you discern nothing but vague mists climbing the ravines tentatively. At noon they drift through trees and houses, wrapping them in cool, grey twilight.
This lasts about till half past three; then the clouds drift away, and the parting song of the sun resounds in burning colours on their rounded backs; the gruff vulcanoes seem to laugh out of pure happiness; shining arms reach forth from the horizon, hugging the earth in a last embrace.
And we look down on the earth from our lofty seat, even as the vulcano-gods looked down in olden times; donat turn your eyes from it to look at your own littleness, for you will be smitten with awe. And smaller still you feel in the mysterious, limpid moonlight, when the flitty mists adorn the trees and shrubs with their morning-trim of pearls.
Life at Tosari is careless and gay; by the invigorating mountain-air all troubles are banished; you feel strong and energetic; the days pass almost too quickly. Many start on the