The etiquette at Court is fitly illustrated by the two tea-houses of Taman Sari, the eastern one for the Grand Pourer-out-of-Tea of the Right, who presided over the preparation of the delectable beverage for the Sooltan, and the western ditto for the Grand Pourer-out-of-Tea of the Left, who provided for the Ratu. A scrupulous punctilio is ingrained in Javanese habits and customs, from high to low, on great and small occasions, the native’s mentality always reverting to things which were, but never more can be. The homage done to sacred objects, arms, _gamelans_, etc., by giving them a human name and a title,[80] venerating them as if endowed with supernatural faculties, recalls Polynesian fetishism, Hinduïsm being blended with it in Siva’s _trishula_, Vishnu’s _chakra_, etc., which are still carried behind the native princes among their _ampilan_.[81] The _upacharas_ or imperial and royal _pusakas_[82] are treated with the utmost reverence when shown at the appearance in public of Susuhunan or Sooltan, and their bearers, the _koncho ngampil_, who hold an honoured position at the Courts of Solo and Jogja, may be considered direct successors of the envoys of King Dasharatha on the reliefs of the _chandi_ Loro Jonggrang, who bore his regalia when meeting Rama and Lakshama. The strange ceremonial, preserved from the time when gods walked amongst men, seems hardly antiquated, on the contrary very germane to _siti-inggil_[83] surroundings. One need not visit the _kratons_ though, to notice how the spirit of the past permeates all things Javanese; any well-dressed native getting out of his _sado_[84] at the railway station or repairing thither on foot for a journey with the fire-carriage, will do. Even if he cannot afford the few _doits_[85] necessary and must impair his dignity by going afoot, he has his retainers to look after his box and, stuck behind, he has his magnificent kris in a sheath of gold, with a beautifully carved ivory handle, in nine cases out of ten a _pusaka_, cherished like the kris Kolo Munyang of the Prince of Kudoos or, as others allege, of a Susuhunan of Surakarta, who sent the weapon, which killed its master’s enemies without human direction, to the assistance of Pangeran Bintoro, then oppressed by a king of Mojopahit. The chronology of this legend is evidently a little faulty, but, O! the wonders of Java’s golden age, and, O! the superstitious honour in which their memory is held by these lovable people, whose actual existence is a dream of days gone by. And that happy dream, they ween, is a presage of the future, prophesying the restoration of their fathers’ heritage. If, nevertheless, the hour draws near of unconditional surrender, the Dutch Government steadily and surely arrogating to itself the externals with the substance of power in the Principalities, they will silently submit to the _nivarana_ of their ancient faith, the hindrance arising from torpor of mind appointed to them in the _sansara_, the rotary