On the hillock of Topog, the _deva agoong’s_ primitive home, two wash-basins in the form of _yonis_, one of them of colossal dimensions and resting on a crouched figure, testify to the worship of Siva’s _sakti_, the female principle of life personified in the Mahadeva’s Devi. Hindu motives in the ornament of the Boro Budoor avouch syncretism having influenced the highest expression of Buddhism itself: there is a four-armed image with _padmasana_ and _prabha_, which, carrying a Buddha in its _makuta_, may hint at Vishnu’s ninth _avatar_; there is a four-armed figure seated on a throne supported by Siva’s _vahana_, the bull; there is a goddess crowned with five _trishulas_; etc. All this illustrates again native tolerance in matters of religion as in other respects, a result of the ancient habit of the Javanese in particular, to meet widely different races and civilisations half-way, which has preserved them from the narrow-mindedness consequent on isolation, as observed by a scholar who knows them well and whose study of special subjects has in nowise impaired his breadth of vision.[159] The modification of this easy-going temperament in contact with western greed, offers abundant food for thought when we return to the cool cave of refuge from passion where the _recho belèq_ symbolises deep contemplation and meditation terminating in absorption of self by participation of the Spirit of the Universe, under the gaudy memorial tablet, _Koning van Siam: 1896_, which, in its glaring incongruity, symbolises the inverted process.[160] The feeling of annoyance it produces, soon passes when the mind begins to expand with admiration of the scene of calm splendour beheld from the dagob containing the pollen of the lotus of the law. The hues and harmonies of evening dispose to a quietude nowhere else experienced or enjoyed in that measure. The only sound heard is a faint humming of insects circling the pinnacles of the _chaityas_ which divide the panorama of the plain below into views of separate interest and beauty, bounded by the graceful outline of the terraces and the distant hills. Ricefields and palmgroves stretch as far as the eye can reach, with villages between, sheltered by their orchards, earth’s tapestry, embroidered in all gradations of green from that of the sprouting _bibit padi_ of the young plantations to that of the thick foliage of centenarian _kanaris_. The shadow of the temple, kissing the drowsy eyelids of the Kadu, lengthens towards the Merapi over whose crater, gilt by the setting sun, hangs a cloud of dark smoke which drifts slowly in the direction of the Merbabu, while the Soombing, to the northeast, looks tranquilly on. The darkness, ushered by the smoke of the ill-tempered old fire-mountain, mingling with the pink and purple of the western sky, spreads over the land, envelops forests and gardens in gray, hushing all that breathes to sleep. One parting smile of the sun’s gladness and night descends in her sable robes. Nothing