of the artificial lakes which are now dry ground, the one here meant being incorporated into a _kampong_, one of the several groups of native dwellings inhabited by the Sooltan’s numerous retainers. The whilom islands convey in quite a picturesque way the lesson that human works must die like the hands that fashioned them. [Illustration: XIII. WATER-CASTLE AT JOGJAKARTA (Centrum.)] The building of the “water-castle”, whose pavilions, artificial lakes, tanks and gardens spread over an area of about twenty-five acres, was begun in 1758 by a Buginese architect under the orders of Mangku Buwono I., a great raiser of edifices, as Nicolaas Hartingh[74] wrote in 1761, and maker of “fountains, grotto-work and conduits which, though completed, he orders immediately to be pulled down, not finding them to his taste, thus squandering some little money.” We possess a description[75] of the _kraton_ at Jogjakarta, dated September 1791, from the hand of Carl Friedrich Reimer,[76] who speaks of “a collection of gardens, fish-ponds and pleasure-pools.” He probably visited Pulu Gedong before proceeding to Taman Sari[77] and expatiates on the spaciousness of the dwelling room in Pulu Kananga, where it seems that the Court could find plenty of accommodation. But what made the greatest impression on the expert in hydraulics was the arrangement of passages and an apartment for prayer and meditation under water, as if the Sooltan deemed it an advantage to worship surrounded by the babbling stream, light and fresh air being provided through turrets rising above the surface. In the place called Oombool Winangoon, situated on a low level, with three tanks, fed from the great lake of Taman Sari, was a cool retreat where the Sooltan used to rest a while after his bath, refreshing himself with a cup of tea. Alluding to the Sumoor Gumuling, Reimer remarks that the architect must have chosen a round form for his structure to make it the better resist the pressure of the water all round. The strange building which went by that name and consisted of two concentric walls with a flat roof,[78] taken for a subaqueous house of prayer by the visitor of 1791, has also been very differently explained: some see in its remains a dancing-school, awakening visions of the Sooltan’s _corps de ballet_ practising in the first storey to the dulcet tones of the _gamelan_, the native orchestra, that ascended from the basement and aided them in going through their paces; others connect it with functions never referred to in polite society and which have nothing in common with praying, either with the heart or with the feet, more correctly speaking: with the arms, hands and hips, for Javanese dancing is no loose skipping and hopping about, but a graceful and expressive play of the body and more particularly of the upper limbs in rhythmic, undulating motion. Passing from one lake to the next, the Sooltan’s means of conveyance was the _prahu_ Niahi Kuning, a gorgeously