from the city of Batavia, the residence of M. Joshua Van Dael, one of the
correspondents of Rodin.

Java! magnificent and fatal country, where the most admirable flowers
conceal hideous reptiles, where the brightest fruits contain subtle
poisons, where grow splendid trees, whose very shadow is death--where the
gigantic vampire bat sucks the blood of its victims whilst it prolongs
their sleep, by surrounding them with a fresh and balmy air, no fan
moving so rapidly as the great perfumed wings of this monster!

The month of October, 1831, draws near its close. It is noon--an hour
well nigh mortal to him who encounters the fiery heat of the sun, which
spreads a sheet of dazzling light over the deep blue enamel of the sky.

An ajoupa, or hut, made of cane mats, suspended from long bamboos, which
are driven far into the ground, rises in the midst of the bluish shadows
cast by a tuft of trees, whose glittering verdure resembles green
porcelain. These quaintly formed trees, rounded into arches, pointing
like spires, overspreading like parasols, are so thick in foliage, so
entangled one with the other, that their dome is impenetrable to the
rain.

The soil, ever marshy, notwithstanding the insupportable heat, disappears
beneath an inextricable mass of creepers, ferns, and tufted reeds, of a
freshness and vigor of vegetation almost incredible, reaching nearly to
the top of the ajoupa, which lies hid like a nest among the grass.

Nothing can be more suffocating than the atmosphere, heavily laden with
moist exhalations like the steam of hot water, and impregnated with the
strongest and sharpest scents; for the cinnamon-tree, ginger-plant,