So much for what this book is not. What it is, I could not help making it, choosing from the material stored in my memory; reliving, as fancy dictated in long northern winter evenings, the sunny spells between 1874 and 1903 when I might call Java my home; resuming my walks in the charming island pleasance of the East, fain to leave the congested main roads and disport myself along by-paths and unfrequented lanes where solace and repose await the weary wanderer. The undertaking, somewhat too confidently indicated by the title, tempted to excursions off the beaten historical, geographical and archaeological tracks, which perhaps will contribute to a better understanding of the monuments described in their proper setting, their relations to natural scenery and native civilisation, but certainly do not tend to conformity with the regulation style of compositions of the kind. Invoking the aid of Ganesa, the sagacious guide, countenancer of poor mortals in creative throes--for, thank Heaven! the fever of production is indissolubly one with the anguish that heightens its delights,--I never hesitated in letting the idea of self-gratification prevail, even when the question of illustration arose after the plan had ripened of inviting indulgent readers to partake. In this respect too I struggled free from anxious deliberation: _Wer gar zu viel bedenkt, wird wenig leisten_. And, Ganesa aiding, the following kaleidoscopic view of the land I love so well, was the result of my delicious travail. Looking for the flowers in the ill-kept garden of Java, the delinquencies of the gardeners could not be ignored and here I touch the unpleasant side of the recreation I sought, especially disagreeable when proposing to strangers that they should share; but a picture needs shade as well as light to become intelligible. And to paint true to life the picture of Dutch East Indian passivity (activity only in vandalism!) regarding treasures of art inconvertible into cash, shade ought to be preponderant and light relegated to the subordinate place of a little star glimmering dimly in the darkness, a little star of hope for the future. Disinclined, however, to spoil my pleasure by dwelling on the tenebrous general aspect of governmental archaeology in the past, I have no more than mentioned such disgraceful incidents as the Mendoot squabbles, and omitted, _e.g._, all reference to such ludicrously heated controversies as that about the _kala-makara_ versus the _garuda-naga_ ornament, exhaustive of the energy which the officially learned might have employed to so much greater advantage by rescuing the venerable temples they fought over, from decay and willful demolition.