There is a resident doctor who has graduated in the Schools of Tropical Medicine, and when we were in Tosari there were visitors from Burma, Siam, Singapore, Penang, and all parts of Java, recruiting from malaria and other ailments peculiar to Far Eastern residence. But they were not all invalids, and formed a bright, companionable party. The Teng'gerese who people this mountainous region are a race apart. Their religion is a mixture of paganism and Buddhism, and, though reputed to be kind and honest, they are an ignorant, uncouth, uncultured people. They dwell _en famille_ in large square houses without windows, in isolated kampongs on the projecting ridges of the mountains. The door of each house is on the side nearest the Bromo crater, and as if tradition gave them cause to fear another destructive eruption they worship this volcano. Dirt prevails everywhere, and in consequence of the cool climate and the scarcity of water they seldom bathe, a fact that is very noticeable after one's acquaintance with the people of the plains. To go to Tosari without seeing the Bromo is tantamount to going to Rome without entering St. Peter's. The journey is made on pony or in a sedan chair, by way of the Moengal Pass and the Dasar or Sand Sea, which is in reality the enormous Teng'ger crater, inside of which there are three more craters, the Bromo being the only one showing signs of activity. A better view and more impressive is obtained from the Penandjaan Pass, a description of which is given in the next chapter. Another trip worth making is to the lakes in the saddle-back mountain between the Teng'ger and the Semeroe. From this high plateau, the ascent of the Semeroe or Mahameroe is fairly easy and will prove attractive to those who are fond of mountaineering. It is the highest volcano in Java and has a perfect cone. The crater, from which smoke and ashes are constantly ejected, is not on the summit but is formed on the south-east side. The visitor who does not wish to retrace his steps to Poespo and Pasrepan may return to the plains by way of Malang or Lawang through beautiful sub-tropical and tropical mountain scenery. Sunrise at the Penandjaan Pass. When a sharp rap came to our door at two o'clock in the morning to summon us for a ride to the Penandjaan Pass, we repented the rash promise to carry out this over-night project to see the sun rise. It was no use to curl one's-self up under two heavy blankets and pretend that we had not heard. The "jongus" was insistent. Up we had to get, effect a hasty toilet in ice-cold water by the aid of a flickering lamp, and step into the outer darkness and mount the pony waiting beside our bedroom door. Unfamiliar constellations shed a cold light on the hillside. Our thickest clothing was penetrated by a searching though slight breeze, as our little rat of a pony, guided by the syce, clambered bravely up the brae that led through Tosari village.