Four days later we arrived at Vancouver, where I wrote to the three gentlemen of Montreal, my appreciation of services rendered, addressing them care of The Star. Their names I did not know, but it was not the first time that I had been reminded of Darwin's assurance, in the account of his travels round the world, as to "how many truly kind-hearted people there are, with whom he (the traveller) never before had, nor ever again will have any further communication, who yet are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance."
Early in the morning on October 19 we saw the first Japanese fishing-boats. The sea was green and in the atmosphere a kind of haze, which almost seems peculiar to Japan, imparted an artistic tone to everything. In splendid weather, almost calm, we sailed along the coast of Nippon. As we entered the bay of Yokohama the sun was setting over a landscape that realised one's preconceived ideas of the beauty of the country. On one side, low ridges with rows of picturesque pine-trees just as you know them from Japanese prints, while in the background to the west, above the clouds rose the top of Fuji, nearly 4,000 metres above sea-level. We steamed up in absolute calm, while the long twilight was still further prolonged by a brilliant afterglow.
Taking advantage of the permit to leave the steamer and rejoin it in Kobe, and having received useful advice from Cook's representative who came on board, I immediately went ashore. On calling a rickshaw I was much surprised to find that the man spoke English quite well. He trotted continuously twenty minutes, to the railway station, where in good time I caught the train for the West, and at daybreak I was ready to observe the beautiful country through which we passed. I had made no provision for breakfast, but one of my fellow travellers, who came from Tokio, had the courtesy to offer me two snipe with bacon, which tasted uncommonly well.
In the morning I arrived at Kioto, the city of many temples, and found the Kioto hotel satisfactory. I shall not attempt to describe in detail the fascination of the two days I spent here, where one still may see something of old Japan. In Kobe, Nagasaki, and other cities exposed to the stream of travellers, Western influence is evident everywhere, and the inhabitants are less attractive on that account. After all one has heard and read about the charm of the country, one is inclined to think that the reports are exaggerated, but as far as my brief experience in Nippon goes, it is the most beautiful and interesting country that I have visited, and I hope in the future to know it better.
The deepest impression made upon me by the Japanese was that they are all so active, healthy, and strong; always good-tempered, their manners are exquisite, even the plain people bowing to each other, and many young people saluted me on the street. The infinite variety in their shops is noticeable. To see the coaling of the steamers in Japanese harbours, which is done by baskets handed from one to another, makes an impression on the traveller. Hundreds of women and men take part in the occupation, and they come neatly dressed to this dirty work, women with clean white kerchiefs on their heads. The low ditches in their rice-fields are like engineering work, and their bundles of wood are nicely tied.
Of the many temples I visited in Kioto the first was Chion-in, which lies impressively on an elevation at the foot of a charming wooded hill. The tiny lake at the back of the quaint structure, the peaceful atmosphere, the sunshine, and singing birds—the tout ensemble was inexpressibly beautiful. On my way back to the hotel I passed a Christian church and felt ashamed of the wretched architecture, in the usual conventional style, made of stone with white-plastered walls, hard and unattractive. Never have I been among a people so close to nature, strikingly intelligent, friendly, and the most aesthetic of all nations on the globe.
In continuing the journey opportunity is afforded to see Shanghai, Hong-Kong, and at last Singapore, the important port of the Malay Peninsula. Singapore, with its green lawns and trees, has a pleasant, though humid climate, cooler than that of Batavia, and quite comfortable although so near the equator. It is satisfying to know one place where the native races have a good time in competition with the whites, not only the Chinese, who have reached power and influence here, but also the Malays, natives of India, Arabs, etc. The Chinese rickshaw men here are of superb physique, and the excellence of the service renders this the most agreeable method of getting about. Moreover, it is a pleasure to watch their athletic movements and long easy stride, as if they were half flying. Some of them pass the carriages. They are jolly, like big children, and are natural teetotalers, but they sometimes fight about money among themselves.
After securing a Chinese photographer and a trained native collector of zoological specimens, I embarked in the excellent Dutch steamer Rumphius for Batavia where I arrived on the 10th of November. The first thing to be done was to ask an audience of the Governor-General of Netherlands India, who usually stays at Buitenzorg, the site of the world-famous botanical gardens. It is an hour's trip by express from Batavia, and although only 265 metres higher, has a much pleasanter climate. The palace, which is within the botanical gardens, has an unusually attractive situation, and the interior is light, cool, and stately. His excellency, A.W.F. Idenburg, most courteously gave the necessary orders for the furtherance of my proposed expedition to New Guinea, and as it was necessary for me to go first to Dutch Borneo, to secure a Dayak crew, he provided me with an introduction to the Resident of the South and Eastern Division.
During the few days I stayed in Buitenzorg, the botanical gardens were a source of ever new delight. It was in the latter half of November and thus well into the rainy season. Usually showers came every afternoon, but the mornings, even up to eleven o'clock, always appeared like spring-time, only in a more magnificent edition than that of temperate zones. In the effulgence of light and the fresh coolness of the first hours of the day, plant and animal life seemed jubilant. After the calm and heat of midday, violent thunder-storms of short duration may occur, but the evenings are generally beautiful, although the prevailing inclination is to retire early. In the tropics one realises more readily than elsewhere how a single day contains all the verities and realities of one's whole life: spring, summer, and autumn every day, as in a year or in a lifetime. Australians and Americans who visit Java every year make a great mistake in selecting the dry season, April to July, for their travels. To be sure, one is not then troubled by rain, but on the other hand the heat is greater, the country becomes dry, and including the botanical gardens, loses much of its attraction.
I decided to go by rail to Soerabaia, the point of steamboat connection with Borneo; this would give me opportunity to see Java besides saving some time. After twelve hours' travel by express the train stops for the night at Djokjakarta where there is a good hotel. We now find ourselves in a region which formerly was the main seat of Buddhism in Java. The world-famous monument, Boro Budur, is in the neighbourhood to the north in the district of Kedu, and by motor-car a visit may easily be made in one day, but for those who can spend more time on this interesting excursion there is satisfactory accommodation in a small hotel near by. The government has of late years successfully restored this magnificent ancient structure which at its base forms a square, with the length of the side 150 metres, and rises to a height of more than 30 metres. At first sight it does not seem as large as expected, but on entering the first gallery one is struck by the monumental magnitude and unique beauty of the edifice.