INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 BY 
 
 ERNEST HAECKEL 
 
 M LiBRIRY 
 3F THE 
 
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INDIA. AND CEYLON 
 
 ERNST HAECKEL. 
 
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hughes 
 
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 mTRODUCTIO]^. 
 
 i«£ i Heinrich Haeckel was born in Germany in 
 1834, and is now a Professor of Zoology at the University of 
 
 wiH? 'n He - WaS ^ m0ng the first Germau writers to agree 
 
 s^bonf' n7w’ f nd ! S °, ne -° f the foremost leaders in that 
 school of biologists, having published several works on 
 
 m W1 ' C V ie has a<lvanced some interest- 
 ing J heo ™ s of lns n - For earnestness of study, and for 
 t ( he forcible and lucid manner in which Prof. Haeckel ex- 
 
 JTto-day 3 ldeaS ’ he rankS at the head of aI1 the scientists 
 
 veiioTiTnotT^ti 11 t h , e fo ! 1 °' villg P a £ es to ?ive a coherent 
 version, it not stnctly literal translation of Prof. Haeckel’s 
 
 interesting “Letters of Indian Travel,” which appeared in 
 serial form in the Rundschau (1882). Although 1 the ter- 
 ritory traversed by the Professor is no terra incognita to most 
 readers, and many travelers, still lie writes so enthuTias- 
 tically and entertainingly about subjects which have here- 
 tofore appeared in merely scientific dress, statistics reports 
 “ d ^cyclopedias, that I trust a version of them will be 
 acceptable to the American reader. 
 
 Translator. 
 
 701495 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF PROFESSOR ERNST HAECKEL. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY S. E. BOGGS. 
 
 i 
 
 I. 
 
 Ok the Way to Ikdia. 
 
 “ Really going to India?” questioned my friends in J ena; 
 and, Really going to India, I repeated, I know not how 
 often after I, at the close of the past winter, fully im- 
 pressed with the melancholy dreariness of our North-Ger- 
 man February, decided to spend the next winter in the 
 tropical sunshine of that wonder-island Ceylon. 
 
 In this age of travel, when no part of our globe is spared 
 by the adventuresome tourist, a voyage to India is no great 
 feat. We speed across the most distant seas in the com- 
 fortable and luxurious steamships of the present, in less 
 time, and with less ceremony and fewer accidents, than at- 
 tended the dreaded journey to Italy a hundred years ago. 
 Even a “ tour around the world in eighty days” is become a 
 familiar thought; and many inexperienced cosmopolitans, 
 who possess the funds necessary for such a tour, imagine 
 that it gives them a better, a more comprehensive “edu- 
 cation,” than they could obtain by ten years’ hard study in 
 our best schools. 
 
8 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 With this fact in view, I can scarcely hope that my jour- 
 ney to India will arouse any particular interest — especially 
 as an abundance of the best literature descriptive of that 
 wonderful country is already in existence — and I ought 
 perhaps to apologize for asking the reader to accompany 
 me. My personal interests as naturalist and nature’s friend 
 alone prompt the journey I am about to undertake. 
 
 The most earnest desire of every naturalist that has made 
 the organic forms of life a lifelong study, is to stand face 
 to face with the wonders of nature in the tropics; for only 
 here, under the enhancing influence of thg sun’s light and 
 heat, are developed those astonishing types of form com- 
 pared with which the flora and fauna of our temperate 
 zone are but weak and colorless imitations. 
 
 Already as a boy, when poring over my favorite descrip- 
 tions of travel, nothing charmed me so much as the primi- 
 tive forests of India and Brazil; and later, when Humboldt’s 
 “ Views of Nature,” Schleiden’s “ Plant Life,” and Dar- 
 win’s “ Voyage Around the World ” influenced my" plans for 
 the future, a journey to the equatorial region became my 
 chief desire. Believing that if I were a physician I might 
 accomplish my purpose, I studied medicine in addition to 
 botany and zoology; but a long period was to elapse before 
 the realization of my cherished dream! The various at- 
 tempts I made twenty-five years ago, after the termination 
 of my medical studies, to accomplish the long-dreamed-of 
 tropical journey were of no avail. I was fortunate enough, 
 however, to spend a whole year on the shores of the Medi- 
 terranean, absorbed in studying the multifarious population 
 of its waters. 
 
 Soon after my return from the Mediterranean certain 
 professional duties, and an unexpected change in my pri- 
 vate affairs, thrust all plans of travel into the remote back- 
 ground. 
 
 On Easter of 1861 I entered upon a professorship in the 
 "University of Jena, a position I have occupied for twenty 
 years. During this time my vacations have been spent, in 
 imitation of my distinguished master and friend Johannes 
 Muller, in studying zoology along the seashores. An ex- 
 traordinary predilection for the interesting study of the 
 lower sea- animals — particularly the zoophytes and proto- 
 zoans — gradually led me to visit every coast in Europe. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 9 
 
 In the preface of my “System of the Medusae” (1879) I 
 have given a summary of the shores on which I fished, 
 sketched, and made microscopic observations. But the 
 diversified coast of the Mediterranean, whose attractions 
 are, in many respects, far superior to any other place, 
 always remained my favorite hunting ground. 
 
 I twice crossed the boundaries of my favorite territory. 
 The winter of 1866-67 was spent among the Canary Islands, 
 chiefly on Lanzarote, a volcanic island almost devoid of 
 vegetation. 
 
 In the spring of 1873 I made a delightful excursion on 
 an Egyptian war-ship, from Suez to Tur, of which I give 
 an account in my “ Arabian Corals” (1875). Both of these 
 journeys took me to within a few degrees of the equatorial 
 region — quite near enough to give me an idea of its exuber- 
 ant vegetation. 
 
 The more a naturalist sees of our beautiful world the 
 more desirous he becomes to enlarge his sphere of knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Shortly after my return from Genoa (1880) — where, 
 thanks to Mr. Montague Brown, the English consul, I 
 obtained many zoological and botanical treasures — chance 
 threw into my hands Kansonnet’s excellent work on Ceylon, 
 and the tantalizing reminiscences of Portofino made the 
 wonders of the Indian cinnamon-island appear all the more 
 alluring. I consulted various route-books, and was re- 
 joiced to find that the “struggle for existence” between 
 the several Indian steamship lines had, naturally, reduced 
 the high rates of passage, and had doubtless also abated 
 many of the nuisances formerly attendant upon an Indian 
 voyage. The announcement by the Austrian Lloyd Steam- 
 ship Company that they now ran two lines of steamers to 
 India (both touching at Ceylon) w r as of special interest to 
 me. My numerous trips on the Mediterranean had very 
 favorably impressed me with the Austrian Lloyd, and I at 
 once concluded that through them I might at last attain my 
 long-cherished wish. The voyage from Triest to Ceylon, by 
 way of Aden, requires about four weeks. Six days are 
 spent between Triest and Port Said, two days in the Suez 
 Canal, six in the Bed Sea, and eleven on the Indian Ocean 
 between Aden and Ceylon. Prom three to four days are 
 spent in touching at the different ports on the route. Ac- 
 
10 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 cordingly a six months’ leave of absence would allow two 
 months for the voyage to and from India, and four months 
 for travelling in Ceylon. 
 
 Circumstances which need not be here mentioned favor- 
 ing an immediate decision, I began at once to prepare for 
 the journey. Leave of absence was easily obtained, and a 
 generous sum of money for the collection of natural curiosi- 
 ties was cheerfully granted by the Grand-ducal Govern- 
 ment of Weimar. 
 
 In our day the naturalist who goes to the seashore to 
 investigate marine plant and animal life, requires more 
 than a microscope and the few simple instruments of 
 twenty — nay ten years ago. 
 
 The methods for bfological, and particularly microscopic 
 research have wonderfully developed in the past decade, 
 and a complicated apparatus is now considered indispensa- 
 ble for the performance of the simplest tasks. Consequent- 
 ly I was obliged to ship from Triest, sixteen chests and boxes. 
 Two contained only the most necessary scientific w^orks; 
 two enclosed a microscope, physical and anatomical instru- 
 ments; two others held the implements required for col- 
 lecting, and the means for preserving, specimens of Indian 
 flora and fauna. The remaining boxes contained several 
 thousand vials, nets of all description, fishing-tackle, 
 photographic camera, and the various articles I should re- 
 quire for sketching in oils and water-colors; a double-bar- 
 relled gun and ammunition, and lastly a supply of linen and 
 clothing for a six months’ journey. 
 
 In face of this imposing outfit, the preparing and pack- 
 ing of which caused me infinite worry and labor, I may 
 consider myself rarely lucky in that not a single wish con- 
 cerning my undertaking remained unfulfilled. It is a well- 
 known fact that among all the investigations of marine 
 life undertaken in late years, none have brought to light 
 so many astonishing results as the deep-sea explorations of 
 the English zoologists Sir Wyville Thomson, Messrs. Car- 
 penter, Murray, Moseley, and others. 
 
 Twenty years ago it was believed that no life existed at 
 the bottom of the ocean, that organic life ceased at a depth 
 of two thousand feet; but the deep-sea investigations of 
 the last ten years have substantially confuted this erroneous 
 belief. That the ocean is densely populated to the depth 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 11 
 
 of twenty-seven thousand feet with creatures of various 
 species heretofore wholly unknown has been proved; and it 
 has also been demonstrated that the different zones of the 
 ocean are as abundantly supplied with diversified plant life 
 as are the different flora-belts of the mountains. 
 
 The unequalled explorations of the Challenger expedi- 
 tion were confined chiefly to the Atlantic and parts 
 of the Pacific oceans; the vast expanse of water comprising 
 the Indian Ocean was not invaded, except at its most south- 
 erly boundary. Consequently an almost inconceivable 
 wealth of new and wonderful creatures will doubtless re- 
 ward the naturalist who first casts his perfected deep-sea 
 net into the unexplored basin of the Indian Ocean. 
 
 Then was not I excusable if, while preparing for my 
 journey to this unexplored region, I wished that I might be 
 the one to discover hidden treasures? Even though the 
 attempt proved abortive, it would still be the first ! 
 
 But deep-sea explorations are a costly pleasure, even 
 though they be conducted, as I proposed, in the simplest 
 and most inexpensive manner. I could not think of 
 undertaking such a project with my own private means, 
 but I hoped to receive substantial support from those 
 institutions which were founded solely for scientific pur- 
 poses. 
 
 In this I was disappointed, and the initial investigation 
 of the Indian Ocean remains to be made by a more fortunate 
 explorer. For me it is to be hoped that the surface-water 
 of that tropical sea will yield so much that is new and 
 interesting that my brief holiday will be all too short for 
 the full solution of its problems. 
 
 In contradistinction to this and some other far from agree- 
 able experiences while preparing for my journey, I received 
 the warmest encouragement and support from many valued 
 friends, who. directly my plans were made known, sought 
 in every way to further them. My heartiest thanks are 
 due to Charles Darwin, Dr. Paul Rottenburg, of Glasgow; 
 Sir Wyville Thomson, and .John Murray, Esq., of Edin- 
 burgh. Also to Professor Edward Suess, of Vienna; 
 Baron von Konigsbrunn, of Gratz; Heinrich Krauseneck, 
 and Captain Radonetz, of Triest. 
 
 My special gratitude is due to his royal highness the 
 Grand Duke Carl Alexander of Saxe- Weimar, the Rector 
 
12 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 Magnificentissimus of the Jena University, and to the 
 hereditary grand duke, through whose kindly agency I re- 
 ceived letters of introduction from the English Colonial 
 Minister to the governor of Ceylon. 
 
 My arrangements at last completed, and the sixteen 
 boxes sent in advance to Triest, I was ready to take leave 
 of dear quiet Jena on the morning of the 8th of Octo- 
 ber. When the last moment arrived, I found that a six 
 months’ absence from home would be no easy task for 
 the father of a family who had already attained the age of 
 forty-eight years. With what different emotions would I 
 have taken my departure twenty-five years ago, when a 
 tropical journey was the chief aim of my life! True, the 
 experience of twenty-five years of teaching and zoological 
 study would enable me to accomplish more than I could 
 have done a quarter of a century ago. But I was twenty- 
 five years older. Would the concrete wonders of tropical 
 nature possess the same fascination for me now that I 
 had penetrated the abstract dominions of natural philoso- 
 phy? 
 
 These and kindred thoughts, together with the most 
 doleful impressions of my last farewells to home and friends, 
 passed through my brain as the train bore me through the 
 cold gray autumnal mists which enshrouded my beloved 
 Saale valley. 
 
 Only the tallest peaks of our magnificent muschelkalk 
 mountains rose above the misty sea; on the right, Haus- 
 berg with his “ rosy radiant summit,” the proud pyramid 
 of the Jenzig, and the romantic ruins of Kunitzburg. On 
 the left stretched the wooded heights of Rauthal; and, 
 further on, Goethe’s favorite retreat, charming Dornburg. 
 I waved an adieu to these dear old mountain friends, and 
 promised to return to them in good health, and richly 
 laden with Indian treasures. 
 
 As if to ratify the promise they gave me their friendliest 
 morning greeting: the dense fog suddenly fell from their 
 shoulders, and the triumphant sun rose into a perfectly 
 cloudless sky. Thousands of dewdrops bhized like jewels 
 in the azure cups of the lovely gentians decorating the 
 grassy slopes on either side of the iron road. 
 
 I took advantage of the several hours’ halt in Leipzig to 
 make some necessary additions to my travelling equipments. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 13 
 
 and to enjoy a brief view of the noble masterpieces in the 
 public picture gallery. 
 
 Then on to Dresden and Vienna. 
 
 After a brief halt in the latter city I continued my 
 journey to G-ratz. It was a glorious sunshiny Sunday, and 
 the alpine beauties of the Semmering glowed with splen- 
 dor. It was twenty years ago when I botanized in the 
 woody ravines and flower-adorned alp-farms of romantic 
 Steiermark, but every nook on the Schneeberg and the Rax- 
 Alp is still remembered with pleasure. In those days the 
 youthful Doctor Medicinae was more devoted to the inter- 
 esting flora and fauna of the mountains, than to the in- 
 structive clinics of Oppolzer and Skoda, Hebra and Sieg- 
 mund; and often, while gathering the hardy alpine plants, 
 dreamed of the luxuriant vegetation of the tropics he was 
 now so soon to see. 
 
 I spent a day in G-ratz, where I found really excellent 
 accommodations at the “ Elephant Hotel . 55 Could a more 
 appropriate name have been found for the first hostelry in 
 which I lodged on my way to India? The elephant, aside 
 from his eminent position as one of the most important 
 animals, is conspicuous in the armorial bearings of Ceylon, 
 and I accepted the hospitable treatment of the G-ratz 
 elephant as a favorable prognostic of the acquaintance I 
 hoped soon to make with his Indian brother. Just here I 
 shall take the opportunity to insert an observation made 
 for the benefit of my travel-loving fellows, especially for 
 those that care less for the number of black-coated waiters 
 at a hotel than for attentive service from them. 
 
 A long and varied experience with hotels of all grades 
 has taught me that the traveller may, to a certain extent, 
 judge the state and condition of these useful institutions 
 by the titles they bear. I have divided them into three 
 classes: the zoological-botanic, the dubious, and the dynas- 
 tic. I have found that by far the best of the three is the 
 zoological-botanic, as, for instance, the “Golden Lion , 55 
 “White Horse , 55 “ Silver Swan , 55 “ Green Tree , 55 “ Golden 
 Vine , 55 etc. You cannot be certain of good and cheap 
 accommodations in the houses which I have classified as 
 dubious, and which have no affinity with either the first 
 or the third group; they bear various names (frequently 
 that of the proprietor himself), and are of too hetero- 
 
14 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 geneous a character for a definite generalization. I have 
 had chiefly doleful experiences — high prices and inferior 
 accommodations — with the dynastic class, such as the 
 “ Emperor of Russia,” “ King of Spain,” etc. Of course, 
 by this classification I do not presume to establish a general 
 rule, but, on the whole, I believe that the critical and un- 
 pretending wanderer will find that I am right. The “ Ele- 
 phant” in Gratz substantiated its claim to an honorable 
 place in the zoological-botanic class. 
 
 Baron von Kdnigsbrunn, a distinguished landscape paint- 
 er in Gratz, who had heard of my proposed journey to 
 Ceylon, cordially invited me to inspect the sketches he had 
 made while on that island in 1853. The baron travelled 
 through the palm forests and fern ravines of the cinnamon 
 island in company with Ritter von Friedau and Professor 
 Schmarda of Vienna, the latter of whom has given a com- 
 prehensive description of the island in his “ Tour Around 
 the World.” Unfortunately the sketches which Baron von 
 Konigsbrunn made, and which were originally intended to 
 illustrate Professor Sehmarda’s work, were never published, 
 a fact to be regretted, as they are the best and the most 
 perfect of the kind I have yet seen. Alexander von Hum- 
 boldt, certainly a competent judge, who submitted the 
 views to the inspection of King Friederich Wilhelm IV., 
 expressed for them his highest praise. 
 
 These paintings, which illustrate Ceylon vegetation and 
 scenery, possess two different — and, in a measure, opposing 
 — qualities, which are rarely found in like works of art. 
 They are, a conscientious adherence to nature in the re- 
 production of details, and an artistic freedom in the in- 
 dividual treatment and effective composition of the whole 
 picture. Many of the landscapes by our most celebrated 
 artists possess the second, but do not even suggest the first 
 quality; while, on the other hand, in many of the so-called 
 views of vegetation, by practical botanists, the absence of 
 aesthetic perception is only too obvious. For a perfect 
 picture, the synthetic and subjective glance of the artist is 
 as necessary as the analytic and objective eye of the natu- 
 ralist; in other words, the perfect landscape must, like the 
 portrait, unite striking resemblance to the subject with 
 artistic perception of individual characteristics, and this 
 attribute Konigsbrunn’s sketches possess to a wonderful 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 15 
 
 degree. I take this occasion to express my sincere thanks 
 to the modest as well as gifted and original artist, and 
 hope that his charming works of art may soon find their 
 way from the obscurity of his studio to a deservedly promi- 
 nent place in public. 
 
 On the 11th of October I bade adieu to the multitude 
 of old and new friends in Gratz, and continued my jour- 
 ney on the Southern Eailway to Triest. In the same com- 
 partment with me was an elderly gentleman whom at a first 
 glance I recognized as English, and our first half-hour’s 
 conversation revealed a very interesting personage. It was 
 Surgeon-general J. Macbeth, who had spent thirty-three 
 years in India, in the service of his mother country. He 
 had taken active part in a number of battles; had travelled 
 throughout India, from Afghanistan to Malacca; had 
 ascended the Himalaya Mountains, and travelled in Ceylon. 
 His varied experiences on land and among different peoples, 
 as well as his observations as physician and naturalist, were, 
 as you may imagine, highly interesting and instructive, 
 and I was almost sorry when our arrival at Triest near 
 midnight concluded a most enjoyable conversation. 
 
 The three days I was compelled to wait in Triest for the 
 sailing of the Austrian Lloyd steamer were passed in the 
 society of old friends, whose hospitable treatment made 
 the hours pass so quickly that no time was left for a 
 visit to poetic Miramare, that enchanting castle by the sea, 
 whose natural beauties eminently fit it for an act in the 
 tragedy of “ Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico,” a promising 
 subject for the dramatist of the future. 
 
 Nor was I able to make an excursion to Muggia Bay, the 
 body of water so rich in sea animals, which became famous 
 through Johannes Muller’s discovery of the curious snail 
 (. Entoconcha mirabilis) which lives in the sea-cucumber 
 (Holothure). Aware that the Austrian Lloyd Company 
 had frequently accorded special privileges to scientific 
 travellers, I hoped to obtain similar favors. I was success- 
 ful beyond my expectations, and here express my gratitude 
 to the manager of the line, Baron Marco di Morpurgo, and 
 to the directors, among whom is my esteemed friend Captain 
 Badonetz. 
 
 And now to embark 1 
 
 I had my choice between the two splendid ships which 
 
16 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 sailed at the same time (15th October). The Helios touched 
 at Aden, Bombay — where she remained eight days — Ceylon, 
 Singapore, and Hong Kong. The Polluce touched at 
 Jedda (the famous port of Mecca), Aden, Ceylon, and 
 Calcutta. I chose the former vessel, which would give me 
 a chance to visit Bombay and obtain a view of the Indian 
 peninsula. Besides, the Helios , which was the better, 
 faster, and larger of the two ships, was almost new, and of 
 very attractive appearance. In addition to this, the name 
 had a peculiar fascination for me. Could a more auspicious 
 title than that of the ever-young sun-god be found for the 
 vessel which was to bear me from the gray fog-regions of 
 the north to the radiant sunshine and palm forests of the 
 tropics? 
 
 Nomen et omen! Why might not I as well as my neigh- 
 bor cherish a little superstition? Surely I might reckon on 
 the favor of the sun-god, in whose honor I named a whole 
 class of dainty protozoans, Heliozoa , i. e . , sun-animals! 
 Therefore, most worthy Helios , let this zoological oblation 
 kindly dispose you towards an admiring mortal, and safely 
 bring him to the haven where he would be! 
 
 The very first days of the voyage proved that the gait of 
 our Helios was a capital one. Although the sea was 
 pretty rough there was comparatively little motion. 
 Especially pleasant was the unusual neatness of everything 
 about the vessel; there were no offensive odors from the 
 kitchen and engine room — odors which contribute more 
 towards seasickness than the rolling and pitching of the 
 ship. Consequently I, and most of the passengers, escaped 
 being seasick. The weather was uninterruptedly clear, and 
 the sea generally smooth. Of all the voyages I have made, 
 the one on the Helios was by far the pleasantest. Of 
 course the agreeable company on board, and my cordial 
 relations with the ship’s officers, did much towards making 
 it so. 
 
 The larger half of our company was composed of English 
 army officers, government officials, and merchants. The 
 other half was made up of Germans, Austrians, Bombay 
 merchants, and a few missionaries. There was but a 
 meagre representation of the fair sex: only one German 
 and five English ladies. My amiable country-woman, who 
 sang and played on the piano, contributed not a little 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 17 
 
 towards the entertainment of her fellow-passengers. She 
 had spent the summer with her children in Frankfort, and 
 was returning to her husband in Bombay — a semi-annual 
 separation between husband and wife practised by so many 
 German and English residents of India who are solicitous 
 about the education and morals of their children. As is 
 generally the case on a voyage of considerable duration, the 
 passengers on the Helios became pretty well acquainted 
 with each other, and formed themselves into little coteries . 
 One group was formed by the missionaries, among whom 
 was a Mr. Rowe, an American, who has written a very 
 readable book on “Every-day Life in India;” a second 
 group was composed of the English officers and merchants; 
 a third comprised the Germans and Austrians, the ship’s 
 captain and doctor, and myself. 
 
 As I have said before, the weather during the entire 
 voyage continued uniformly fair; the sky was serene and 
 cloudless; the sea smooth, or only gently undulating. Our 
 good ship made every one of her ports at the appointed 
 time; the victims of the demon seasickness were but few. 
 
 This uninterrupted sameness at length became monot- 
 onous. Reading, writing, cards, chess, music, vocal and 
 instrumental, everything that is usually practised to re- 
 lieve the tedium of a long voyage, had been exhausted the 
 first week out. Consequently the five periods into which 
 the day was divided by as many meal- times grew to be of 
 more importance as the journey progressed. Unfortunately 
 for me my poor German-professor’s stomach is so very ca- 
 pricious on shipboard that — although I am rarely seasick — 
 I always lose my appetite, while that of my fellow-passen- 
 gers seems to increase in inverse ratio as mine diminishes. 
 However, this condition of affairs enables me — as objec- 
 tive spectator — to observe the colossal capacity for what 
 physiologists term the “consumption of luxuries.” I 
 have ever cherished a secret admiration for our able cousins 
 across the Channel, whose gastronomic feats far surpass our 
 own; but what I saw accomplished by an English major on 
 board the Helios exceeded anything of the kind I ever be- 
 held! This brave warrior enjoyed not only the five regular 
 meals, with a liberal accompaniment of wine and beer, but 
 most ingeniously managed to dispose of all manner of 
 toothsome sweets and various beverages during the inter- 
 
18 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 veiling periods. To me this gastronomic wonder seemed 
 to have arrived at that state of development in which the 
 perfected digestive organs are capable of constant activity, 
 and I am strongly tempted to believe this activity was con- 
 tinued throughout the night, for I frequently saw the major 
 stagger from his cabin at unconscionably early hours. 
 
 I have heard that the greater number of English resi- 
 dents in India who die from diseases contracted in that 
 country invite their fate by excessive indulgence of the ap- 
 petite. 
 
 As the meals on board an India-bound steamer are famous 
 affairs — of vital importance indeed to some of the passen- 
 gers — I may as well give the curious reader an idea as to 
 what composes them. Coffee and bread are served at eight 
 o’clock in the morning; at ten follows a general breakfast, 
 at which appear eggs, meats, curry and rice, vegetables and 
 fruits. At one o’clock tiffin” — which is a luncheon of 
 cold meats, bread and butter, potatoes, and tea. At five 
 o’clock the regular dinner is served: soup, meats, with at- 
 tendant relishes, farinaceous dishes, dessert, fruits, and 
 coffee. Lastly, at eight o’clock in the evening a meal of 
 tea, bread and butter, etc., concludes the list. 
 
 Very few of the passengers fail to make their appearance 
 in the dining-saloon at the appointed hours. After meals 
 the passengers promenade the deck, or recline in comfort- 
 able Chinese chairs, and discuss the never-changing tint of 
 the azure sky and water. 
 
 An ever-welcome incentive to increased mental activity 
 are the different marine creatures which occasionally ap- 
 pear: dolphins disporting around the vessel, gulls and pet- 
 rels encircling gracefully overhead, or darting down upon 
 their finny prey. Sometimes swarms of flying-fish skim 
 swiftly across the crests of the waves. The delicate medusae 
 always charmed me most, and I was only sorry that the 
 swift course of the vessel prevented me from securing some 
 of these beautiful animals. In the Mediterranean Ocean, 
 which is especially rich in sea-nettles, I saw two mammoth 
 specimens: a blue Pilema pulmo, and a golden-brown Coty - 
 lorliiza tuber culata , and in the Indian Ocean a rose-colored 
 Aurelia , and a dark-red Pelagia. 
 
 The voyage from Triest to Bombay (twenty-four days) was 
 accomplished under such favorable conditions that there is 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 19 
 
 scarcely anything of interest to chronicle. My former voy- 
 ages in the blue Adriatic were chiefly along the picturesque 
 shores of Istria and Dalmatia, the rosemary-scented islands 
 of Lissa and Lesina, on the latter of which, in 1871, I 
 spent a very pleasant month in the Franciscan monastery 
 with the eminent Padre Bnona Grazia. 
 
 This time our course was more toward the west — toward 
 the middle of the Adriatic, as we were to land for several 
 passengers at Brindisi. Above the heights of Canossa 
 hung a black cloud, the shadow, perhaps, of — but I will 
 not introduce politics here! 
 
 On the morning of the 17th (October) we.landed at Brin- 
 disi. As we were to remain until noon I went ashore to view 
 the few unimportant remains of ancient Brundusium, and 
 wandered along the ramparts to the railway station. This 
 structure, as well as the modern city itself, is not what 
 one would naturally expect from the ostentatious title the 
 latter assumed at the opening of the Suez Canal : the 
 “entrepot for the commerce of the world.” 
 
 The overland mail is transferred to the steamer imme- 
 diately after the arrival of the mail train, and the passen- 
 gers — those going to and those returning from India — make 
 the change from the cars to the steamer or vice versa with 
 equal celerity, seeming in no way disposed to rest or refresh 
 themselves in the only hotel in the place. 
 
 Both hotel and railway station were deserted the morn- 
 ing I was there ; and not a soul was to be seen except 
 the telegraph operator and a station porter. The flat 
 coast with its vegetable gardens, plantations of reeds, and 
 scattered date-palms, is very uninteresting. An old 
 cathedral w r ith a stately dome south of the city is the 
 only object worth transferring to the sketch-book. 
 
 The English general whom, with his family and retinue, 
 we were to have taken on board, did not make his appear- 
 ance — his luggage having failed to arrive with him on the 
 train — so we set sail again at noon without him. The fol- 
 lowing morning we steamed past the Ionian Islands; with 
 pleasure I hailed the sight of stately Cephalonia, and greeted 
 proud Monte Nero, on whose snow clad height I once spent 
 a memorable day in the shadow of a majestic Finns Ceplia- 
 lonica — a noble evergreen found only on this island. 
 Farther on we passed romantic Zante — “ Fior di Levante” 
 
20 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 — sailing so close to its southern shore that we could plainly 
 see the long rows of vaulted grottoes and eaves in the red 
 marble cliffs. In the afternoon Epirus appeared on our 
 left, and on our right the solitary island of Stamphania. 
 Late in the evening we passed battle-stained Navarino; no 
 less attractive and picturesque was the view of Candia, 
 whose southern coast we skirted on the 19th. 
 
 Fleecy clouds, scudding before a fresh breeze across the 
 deep blue sky, cast fleeting shadows on the rugged bosom 
 of the island, and occasionally enveloped Mount Ida’s snow- 
 crowned head. The next morning there was nothing but 
 water on every side; but the increasing warmth of the 
 temperature, which made us change our heavy clothing for 
 lighter summer attire, apprised us of the nearness of the 
 African coast. 
 
 When we went on deck on the morning of the 21st the 
 Egyptian shores were not yet in sight, but the water of the 
 Mediterranean had lost its incomparable azure tint, and was 
 of a greenish hue that, as the ship progressed, gradually 
 changed to a dirty greenish-yellow — the effect of the muddy 
 waters of the Nile. And now appeared numbers of tiny 
 sailing craft, principally Arabian fishing-boats. A huge 
 sea-turtle drifted past the vessel; several land-birds flew on 
 board, and at twelve o’clock noon we sighted the light 
 tower of Damietta. At four o’clock a small steam launch 
 brought a pilot to the Helios , and an hour later we cast 
 anchor in the harbor of Port Said, which is at the northern 
 entrance of the Suez Canal. The Helios remained here a 
 day to take in coal and provisions. In the evening I and 
 a number of the passengers went ashore to a cafe , where we 
 met the doctor of the Polluce and several of her passengers 
 — that ship having arrived at the same time with the Helios. 
 
 The following morning I mounted to the top of the light- 
 tower, which is 160 feet high — the tallest in the world. Its 
 electric light is seen at a distance of twenty-one nautical 
 miles. The massive walls of the tower are built of the 
 same material as that in the moles of the harbor — an arti- 
 ficial stone which is composed of two parts sand and one 
 part hydraulic lime. The view from the tower did not 
 come up with my expectations, as, with the exception of 
 the town itself, and the flat stretches of sand surrounding 
 it, nothing but water is to be seen. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 21 
 
 I next visited the costly piers, which were constructed, at 
 an enormous outlay of money and labor, to protect the en- 
 trance of the canal from its two principal enemies: the mud 
 from the mouths of the Nile, and the sand from the desert. 
 The western mole has a length of 3000 metres, and is con- 
 siderably stronger than the one on the east, w T hich is only 
 half as long. For the construction of these moles 30,000 
 blocks of stone — each of 10 cubic metres, and 20,000 kilo- 
 grams weight, — were required. 
 
 From the harbor I sauntered to the Arabian part of the 
 town which is separated from European Port Said by a 
 stretch of sandy desert ; both quarters consist of parallel 
 rows of streets whicli cross each other at right angles. The 
 motley and original scenes in the filthy streets were the 
 same one sees in every smaller Egyptian city, and in the 
 suburbs of Cairo and Alexandria. 
 
 The European quarter is composed chiefly of shops and 
 stores, and has perhaps 10,000 inhabitants. The expec- 
 tations of grandeur entertained by the founders of Port 
 Said have been only partially realized, and the imposing 
 “Netlierland hotel” already wears an air of solitude and 
 desertion. I purchased a number of articles, considered 
 indispensable by the voyager to India ; among them a white 
 broad-brimmed sold hat, and a comfortable bamboo exten- 
 sion-chair. 
 
 So much has been written about the Suez Canal — the 
 wonder of modern times — that I shall not weary the reader 
 by repeating well-known facts. We passed through the 
 greater part of the canal on Sunday (23d). The morning 
 in Menzaleli Lake was delightfully fresh and clear ; thou- 
 sands of pelicans, flamingoes, herons, and other aquatic 
 fowl literally covered the sand-banks with which the lake 
 is interspersed. After crossing Abu Ballah Lake we en- 
 tered the narrowest part of the canal at El Guisr, where, 
 occurs the deepest cutting in the whole line. The high 
 walls of sandy soil on either side are studded here and 
 there with gray tamarisk shrubs ; swarms of Arab children 
 appear along the banks and clamor for backshish. Several 
 boys play the flute and dance with considerable grace. At 
 noon we passed Ismalia, the deserted city founded by De 
 Lesseps, and in the evening we anchored in the Bitter 
 Lakes. 
 
22 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 Travellers to India dread the voyage through the Red 
 Sea, it being the hottest and most disagreeable part of the 
 route. Although it was the cooler season of the year we 
 on the Helios were fully convinced that the dread afore- 
 mentioned was well founded. But two thirds of the Red 
 Sea, or Arabian Gulf, are within the torrid zone, yet the 
 entire expanse of water composing it might well be called 
 a tropical sea. Similar physical peculiarities characterize 
 its shore from Suez to Perim — from 30°-13° N. Lat. In- 
 deed the dissimilarity between its northern and southern 
 extremities, removed from each other by a distance of 
 three hundred miles — is much less than the difference be- 
 tween the Red Sea at Suez and the Mediterranean at Port 
 Said, although the two localities are separated by but a 
 narrow isthmus. But this bridge of land, which is the 
 connecting link between Asia and Africa, has existed for 
 millions of years, consequently the animal and vegetable 
 population of the neighboring seas have developed perfectly 
 independent of each other. Those along the Mediterranean 
 shore belong to the Atlantic Ocean, while those of the Red 
 Sea country are allied to the flora and fauna of the Indian 
 Ocean. Both shores of the Red Sea, the eastern coast of 
 Arabia, as well as the western coast of Egypt, are almost 
 devoid of vegetation; not a single large river flows from 
 them into the sea. Above the sterile shores, on either side, 
 tower lofty mountain chains whose aspect is of the most 
 forbidding character. Between these ranges, which glow 
 with the intense heat from the sun, the narrow Arabian 
 Gulf lies like a trench between two high walls; here, dur- 
 ing the hot summer months, the mercury rises — in the 
 shade at noon — to 40° R. ! I was assured by the officers of 
 the Helios , who had made the voyage during these periods, 
 that this terrible heat was almost intolerable, and that often 
 they had been afraid reason would desert them. Even yet, 
 at the end of October, the heat was intense. The ther- 
 mometer, which hung in a shady corner on deck, registered 
 from 22°-26° R., and once in the “airy” cabins the mer- 
 cury rose during the day to 32°, and at night it stood at 
 26°. The little air that stirred was oppressive, and every 
 attempt to mitigate the intense heat proved unavailing. 
 Every window, every hatchway, was left open day and night ; 
 two rows of ventilating chimneys conducted air into the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 23 
 
 hold of the vessel; the punkas in the saloons were kept 
 constantly in motion. The air from these huge fans, to- 
 gether with an unlimited supply of ice water, alone enabled 
 us to endure the excessive heat. 
 
 At seven o’clock on the morning of the 27th we crossed 
 the Tropic of Cancer, and I breathed, for the first time, the 
 fervid atmosphere of the torrid zone. The sky directly 
 above us was perfectly clear, but away in the east, above 
 the Arabian coast, loomed dense masses of storm-clouds 
 that were illumined every second by flashes of heat light- 
 ning. There was a repetition of this cloud-picture in the 
 eastern sky every evening, but no rain-storm came to re- 
 fresh us. The first three nights in the tropics, the mercury 
 never once fell below 25° in the cabins. I, as well as most 
 of the gentlemen, slept on deck, where it was at least three 
 degrees cooler. 
 
 On the night of the 30tli we passed the straits of Bab- 
 el-Mandeb, and the island of Perim — the Gibraltar i>f the 
 Red Sea — and on the morning of the 31st we anchored in 
 the Gulf of Aden. Aden, as you know, is situated on a 
 rocky peninsula, that, like Gibraltar, is connected with the 
 mainland by a narrow neck of land. In 1839 it fell into 
 the hands of the English, who fortified it, and made it an 
 important station on the route to India. It has a popula- 
 tion of 3000 souls. Most of the ships stop at Aden for coal 
 and provisions ; but, as the cholera had been raging there 
 for two months, and we were not certain whether we would 
 be allowed to land, we had taken in supplies at Port Said. 
 However, on landing we found that the epidemic had 
 shortly before entirely disappeared. The Helios was 
 immediately surrounded by boats, and all sorts of peculiar 
 wares were offered for sale by the dusky natives — ostrich 
 feathers and eggs; lion and leopard skins; antelope horns; 
 formidable saws of the saw-fish; dainty little baskets and 
 trays, etc., etc. I was more attracted by the venders of 
 these articles; there were genuine Arabs, negroes, Somalis, 
 and Abyssinians. Most of them were of a dark-brown color, 
 that, in some shaded into a reddish bronze, and in others to 
 the deepest black. Some of them had their hair dyed red 
 with henna, or bleached white with lime; and the greater 
 number wore only a white cloth around the loins. We were 
 greatly entertained by the swarms of dusky children — from 
 
24 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 eight to ten years old — who rowed out to the ship in tiny 
 canoes made of hollow logs, and darted into the water head- 
 foremost for the coins flung to them by the passengers. As 
 we did not go ashore we saw but little of the town and its 
 fortifications. The volcanic rocks on which the houses are 
 scattered are rather picturesque. The prevailing color 
 of the naked walls of lava is a dark brown that is here 
 and there relieved by the dingy green of a few scant shrubs. 
 In midsummer, life on this glowing pile of rock must be, 
 for the English garrison, almost unendurable; and the 
 officers are justified in naming the place the “ Devil’s 
 Punch-bowl.” 
 
 After a six hours’ delay at this inhospitable port we set 
 sail again for Bombay. Nothing of special interest occurred 
 during the eight days’ voyage across the Indian Ocean. 
 The autumn weather was delightful; that we were in the 
 influence of the north-east monsoon became daily more 
 perceptible. Although the mercury still lingered in the 
 neighborhood of 20° R., a fresh breeze mitigated the heat 
 during the day, while the cool nights convinced us that we 
 were beyond the oppressive influence of the Red Sea. The 
 water, broken into ripples by the fresh wind, was constantly 
 in motion; its color was a delicate blue-green — at tiipes the 
 tint of lapis-lazuli, but never the intense blue of the Medi- 
 terranean. Sometimes the sky would be perfectly clear; 
 then again fleecy clouds would entirely obscure it. Every 
 afternoon dense cloud-masses gathered along the horizon 
 in the north-east and south-west, and these the setting sun 
 would transform into the most gorgeous spectacle — an ever- 
 new, ever-changing panorama that vanished all too quickly 
 from our admiring gaze. 
 
 I stood for hours at the prow and watched the myriads 
 of flying-fish that darted from the waves at the approach 
 of the vessel. But more attractive always were the me- 
 duae, of which we passed scores, blue rliizostomes, rose- 
 colored aurelias, and red-brown pelagias. I particularly 
 regret iny failure to secure a remarkable siphonophora — of 
 the species we call Porpita — that passed us on the 4th of 
 November. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 25 
 
 II. 
 
 A Week isr Bombay. 
 
 A glorious and memorable day for me was the 8th of 
 November. On that day I first set foot on tropical earth, 
 and looked with astonishment on its animal and vegetable 
 wonders. 
 
 A whole hour before sunrise I went on deck, and beheld 
 advancing through the mists of dawn the deeply-dented 
 coast of Bombay, above and beyond which rises that singu- 
 lar range of mountain?, the “Bhor-Ghaut.” 
 
 These mountains, which form the boundary wall between 
 the extensive table-land of the Deccan, and the flat, nar- 
 row coast of Concan, the littoral lowlands of the Indian 
 peninsula, are composed of plutonic basalt, syenite, and 
 other rocks, and are so cloven and crenelated that one 
 almost believes one is looking at colossal fortresses, pago- 
 das, and battlements. 
 
 The morning sky was tinted with delicate evanescent 
 hues which suddenly vanished altogether when, from be- 
 tween two broad belts of vapor, the splendid Indian Helios 
 came forth to greet his gallant namesake from the north. 
 And now the physical details of the approaching shore 
 were clearly revealed; the most prominent features are the 
 extensive groves of Palmyra palms, and the magnificent 
 harbor, in which thousands of ships may safely ride at 
 anchor. Of the city itself we could see only the detached 
 houses of the Golaba quarter on the south-eastern point of 
 the island, the imposing masonry of the stately fortress, 
 and, in the distance, the verdant crest of Malabar Hill, 
 with its numerous villas and gardens. The tumult and 
 bustle among the shipping in the roomy harbor was very 
 interesting. Before us lay two white ironclad monitors, 
 with revolving turrets, most efficient defenders of the tropi- 
 cal city. Farther on we passed two large transports, on 
 which were hundreds of English soldiers; and still farther 
 on we wended our way through whole fleets of steamers 
 that fetch and carry freight and passengers from every na- 
 tion under the sun. 
 
 Shortly after sunrise the Helios anchored near the 
 “ Apollo-bunder,” the place of debarkation; sanitary and 
 
26 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 customs officials came on board, and very soon the company 
 that, for twenty-four days, had occupied the swimming 
 hotel, dispersed in all directions. Hurried farewells were 
 spoken, cards and good wishes exchanged, then each one 
 made all possible haste to reach the long-wished-for terra 
 firma. I was invited by a hospitable countryman of mine, 
 Herr Blaschek, the husband of the German lady on the 
 Helios, to spend the week of my sojourn in Bombay with 
 him on Malabar Hill. Knowing well how the traveller’s 
 freedom of movement is restricted by the disagreeable 
 boarding-school constraint of the English hotels in India, 
 I gladly accepted Herr Blaschek’ s invitation; and, although 
 I was surrounded by unusual splendor and magnificence — 
 indispensable necessaries to the wealthy European in India, 
 but rare luxuries to the modest German traveller — I soon 
 felt perfectly at home among the palms and bananas of 
 Blaschek villa. 
 
 It is of course impossible to become thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with a place like Bombay in one short week; I 
 shall not, therefore, attempt a detailed account of its 
 numerous attractions. I had read and heard very little 
 more about Bombay than that it was, after Calcutta, the 
 largest and most important city of British India; that its 
 commercial reputation was world-wide, and that it had a 
 mixed population. I never saw in any of our art exhibi- 
 tions views of this city or of its surroundings; imagine then 
 my surprise when I found here sights which, for beauty and 
 grandeur, can be compared only with those of Naples or 
 Cairo — or, better, a peculiar combination of those two 
 widely-dissimilar cities. Bombay is like Naples in its 
 charming situation on an undulating and verdure-clad 
 shore, its insular appendages, and its mountains. It is 
 like Cairo, in that it contains a motley and picturesque 
 population, representatives of every clime and race, and in 
 the intense hues both nature and art have given their mul- 
 tifarious creations.- 
 
 The city of Bombay is situated on an island which has 
 an area of twenty-two square miles; it lies in lat. 18° 56' 
 long., 72° N. 56' W. The island was first discovered and 
 taken possession of by the Portuguese in 1529, who called 
 it Buona Bahia (Good Bay), because of the large and ex- 
 cellent harbor which encloses it and the several adjacent 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 27 
 
 islands. (It is also said that Bombay is derived from 
 Bomba-Devi, the name of the Indian goddess of the sea.) 
 
 In 1661 the Portuguese ceded Bombay Island to the 
 English, who at first scarcely knew what to do with their 
 new possession. Its development was hindered chiefly by 
 the extensive marshes which covered its surface, and which 
 were supposed to render the climate unhealthy. When 
 these swamps were drained, and other improved conditions 
 established, the island rapidly developed — especially since 
 1820, when Mountstuart Elphinstone assumed the reins 
 of government — and in the last fifty years Bombay has be- 
 come the third largest commercial city in Asia. 
 
 Its present population is perhaps 800,000 (including 
 8000 Europeans and 50,000 Parsees). In 1834 there were 
 but 234,000 inhabitants; in 1816, 160,000, and in 1716, 
 only 16^000 souls. 
 
 Bombay, through her position as medium for the entire 
 trade and commerce of the Indian Orient, and as connect- 
 ing link between Asia and Europe, has again attained the 
 prominence which was hers in the time of her greatest 
 prosperity, the antiquity of Alexandria. Her most im- 
 portant traffic is cotton, in which she is surpassed only by 
 New Orleans, in North America. 
 
 The immense harbor, as secure as it is extensive, is the 
 largest and best in India. It opens towards the south, is 
 bounded on the north by the mainland, on the west by 
 Bombay Island, and on the north by a group of smaller 
 islands. The island is rectangular in shape, and extends 
 north and south; bridges connect its northern extremity 
 with the island of Salsett.e, and the mainland. The greater 
 portion of the northern half is covered by the extensile 
 palm-forests of Mahim. The southern half consists of two 
 long promontories, which are said to resemble the uneven 
 claws of a crab, and which enclose the broad expanse of 
 water known as Back Bay. 
 
 Of these two tongues of land, the western, which is the 
 shorter and the higher — it is very like the Posilippo, near 
 Naples — is Malabar Hill, the delightful villa quarter of 
 Bombay. Beautiful gardens ornamented with luxuriant 
 tropical plants surround the numerous elegant villas or bun- 
 galows which are the homes of the more distinguished resi- 
 dents of Bombay. On the eastern tongue of land is the 
 
28 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 suburb of Colaba, which contains the cotton market and 
 the tents and barracks of the English soldiers. At the 
 northern extremity of Colaba, between it and the fort, is the 
 Apollo bunder, the handsome quay, on which the traveller 
 to the Orient first sets foot. The name of this landing- 
 place is not derived from that of the beautiful Greek god, 
 but from pallow (fish), which eventually became Apollo. 
 Pallow-bunder is Indian for fish-market. There is an 
 excellent hotel on the quay, the only large and first-class 
 hotel in Bombay, and here, on the balcony, in full view of. 
 the harbor and mountains, I enjoyed my first breakfast in 
 India. On the esplanade of the Apollo-bunder, as on the 
 Santa Lucia at Naples, the greatest activity prevails, espec- 
 ially in the evening, when the military band adds music to 
 the attractions of the place, and the wealth and fashion of 
 Bombay appears. Numbers, of elegant equipages roll along 
 the bay shore, while the native population amuses itself in 
 its own peculiar manner around the bonfires on the strand. 
 That portion of the island between Malabar Hill and Cola- 
 ba, is occupied by the two most important sections of the 
 city the “Fort,” and the “Black Town.” The former 
 encloses the greater part of the European quarter, in which 
 are to be found most of the public buildings, as well as 
 most of the counting-houses and offices of the European 
 residents. 
 
 Most of the public buildings, which were erected at an 
 enormous expense in the last twenty or thirty years, are 
 imposing structures, with the Gothic arches and peristyles 
 of the Venetian palaces, architectural characteristics that 
 are strangely at variance with the wanton luxuriance of 
 the tropical vegetation around them, and the motley cur- 
 rent of Indian life surging at their portals. The proper 
 theatre, however, for scenes of Indian life is in the Black 
 Town — the quarter inhabited by the native population. 
 When I first visited this part oE Bombay I was vividly re- 
 minded of Cairo. The public display of Oriental wares in 
 the crowded bazaars, the cries of the venders, the gay cos- 
 tumes or half-naked forms of the surging throng in the 
 narrow streets, the tumult of vehicles and horses — all these 
 are like what you may see in the business quarters of Cairo. 
 But the longer you are surrounded by the turmoil of this 
 Indian city the more apparent becomes the difference be- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 29 
 
 tween it and the cities of Egypt. The north-western por- 
 tion of the Black Town (which is called Girgaum) is of a 
 more pleasing aspect; here, in the shade of graceful cocoa- 
 palms, are picturesque native huts, which, with the nude 
 children playing around them, the gayly-dressed women 
 and dusky men, pretty zebus, horses, dogs, monkeys, etc., 
 offer a variety of the most enchanting sujects to the genre 
 painter. 
 
 To adequately describe the diverse manners and customs 
 of Bombay’s heterogeneous population passes the power of 
 my pen. The Hindus, who form the largest section, are 
 of rather diminutive stature, delicate build, and dark brown 
 color. The Hindu children are most charming; their little 
 naked forms are to be seen everywhere. Even the adult 
 males of the lower classes wear only a narrow scarf around 
 the loins; consequently the artist or sculptor might here 
 with advantage study, the structure of the human form, 
 the youths of sixteen to twenty years offering specially 
 fine models. Indeed, one might justly call these shapely 
 lads the “fairer sex;” their features are often refined and 
 noble, and distinguished by a dreamy expression that is 
 very attractive. There are also some neat figures among 
 the women, whose simple flowing garments give them an 
 exceedingly graceful appearance, but a really handsome 
 feminine face is rare. The girls marry very young — at ten 
 or fifteen years of age; they fade quickly and become ex- 
 tremely ugly old women. In addition to their natural 
 homeliness they disdgure their faces by wearing in the left 
 nostril a silver hoop adorned with precious stones, and many 
 of these nose-rings are so large that the mouth and chin 
 are covered by them. The women also chew betel, which 
 stains the lips and teeth a vivid yellow. The forehead is 
 striped with various colors to indicate the caste of the 
 wearer, the arms are tattooed, and both sexes wear silver 
 bangles and rings around the ankles and toes. In this 
 garb the Hindu, although, he is descended from the same 
 race — the Aryan — as that of our European forefathers, ap- 
 pears a genuine “savage.” Caste distinctions and the 
 Brahminical faith prevail among them to this day; the 
 Hindu still burns the bodies of his dead, and, when riding 
 along the shore of Back Bay, you may see in the immediate 
 vicinity of the railway station the huge ovens in which by 
 
30 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 the simplest process the dead bodies are transformed to 
 ashes — a more convenient and less costly method of crema- 
 tion than is at present practised in Gotha. According to 
 the census in 1872 more than three fifths of the inhabitants 
 of Bombay are orthodox Hindus under Brahminical domi- 
 nation; 140,000 — more than one fourth the whole number 
 — are Mussulmans, and only 15,000 — scarcely one forty- 
 fifth — are Buddhists. A few thousand Jews, Chinese, 
 Africans, and a mixture of all nationalities make up the 
 total. Accordingly you may imagine the heterogeneous 
 character of the throng in the streets of Bombay, and guess 
 what an infinite variety of types, forms, customs, and man- 
 ners are here mingled together. Perhaps in no other city 
 on the globe are more languages heard than in Bombay — 
 especially in the European quarter, where every known 
 tongue has its representative. One of the most important 
 components of the population of Bombay — as well as in all 
 Indian cities — is the Parsee, or Guebre. They number 
 about 50,000 — only one twelfth of the whole number — but 
 their enterprise and industry have won for them such in- 
 fluence that they play a prominent part in all the affairs of 
 the city. They are descended from those ancient Persians 
 who, after the conquest of Persia by the Mohammedans in 
 the seventh century, refused to accept the faith of their con- 
 querors, and clung tenaciously to the doctrines of Zoroaster. 
 After their expulsion from Persia the Parsees fled to the 
 island of Ormuz, from whence they scattered over India. 
 They marry only among themselves, consequently the 
 purity of their race is preserved. Aside from their 
 peculiar dress, they may, at a first glance, easily be distin- 
 guished from all the other races. The men are tall and 
 stately — most of them corpulent; they have yellowish com- 
 plexions, and are on the whole a handsomer and more 
 robust people than the effeminate Hindus. They wear a 
 peculiar long white cotton gown, wide trousers of the same 
 material, and a tall mitre-shaped hat. Their features ex- 
 press energy and sagacity; they are frugal and sober, and, 
 like the Jews in Europe, thoroughly understand how to ac- 
 cumulate large fortunes. Many of the wealthiest residents 
 of Bombay are Parsees. As hotel-keeper, ship-builder, 
 mechanic, and technicist, the Parsee has won for himself 
 an enviable reputation. They are justly celebrated for 
 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 31 
 
 their domestic virtues. The dress of the Parsee farmer 
 consists of a single long simply-fashioned garment of some 
 bright color: green, red, yellow, etc. The wealthier Parsee 
 children are frequently seen driving about the streets clad 
 in the most gorgeous raiment of gold and silver embroid- 
 ered stuffs. Many of them live in beautiful villas, sup 
 rounded by all the luxuries, and no doubt arouse the jeal- 
 ous envy of many an impecunious Christian from Europe. 
 
 A number of Parsees have founded useful and beneficial 
 institutions; several have been knighted for services ren- 
 dered the British Government. The public spirit and enter- 
 prise of the Parsee, evidences his freedom from priestly 
 domination. His faith — the doctrine of Zoroaster — which 
 is one of the noblest natural religions, is founded on a be- 
 lief in creative and sustaining powers. Chief among these 
 are the sun and his likeness fire. Multitudes of these sun, 
 or fire-worshippers may be seen on the seashore at sunrise 
 and sunset, devoutly attesting their reverence for the ap- 
 proaching or departing god of day. I confess I never 
 looked with more sympathetic reverence on the devotions 
 of any people than upon these pious sun-worshippers. 
 
 Are not we naturalists, who believe that the light and 
 heat of the sun are the primary source of all organic life on 
 our earth, really sun- worshippers? 
 
 The religious practices of the Parsees are extremely sim- 
 ple, and, like those of the Mussulmans, based chiefly on 
 judicious sanitary laws, as, for instance, strict dieatry regu- 
 lations and daily ablutions. 
 
 In consequence of these rigid observances the Parsee 
 enjoys perfect health, and his active healthy children im- 
 press one more favorably than do the pale-faced, languid 
 offspring of the European resident. 
 
 One of the most remarkable customs of the Parsees 
 is their method of disposing of the dead. On the 
 rocky crest of Malabar Hill, from whence the admiring 
 beholder looks down on a magnificent panorama of 
 city, sea, and bay, the Parsees own a beautiful plot of 
 ground which is ornamented with lofty palms and 
 flowering plants. In this garden or cemetery stands the 
 Dakhma, or “Tower of Silence.” The interior of this 
 structure is divided into three circular or concentric cham- 
 bers, each of which is in turn divided into numerous 
 
32 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 smaller chambers. The inner circle is for the bodies of 
 children, the next, for the women, and the outer circle for 
 the men. When a corpse is brought to the cemetery by 
 the relatives it is received by attendants clad in white 
 robes, and, amid the chanting of priests is placed in one of 
 the compartments of the Dakhma. Almost immediately 
 the “ holy birds of Ormuzd,” the sedate vultures perched 
 on the Palmyra palms in the cemetery, swoop down into 
 the open tower, and in a few minutes devour the flesh of the 
 dead body. Swarms of ravens follow and voraciously swal- 
 low the remnants of this feast. Later the bleached bones 
 are gathered into a receptacle under the tower. To most 
 Europeans this is a horrible mode of sepulture; but, as 
 collating zoologist, I confess I think the swift destruc- 
 tion of a dead body by vigorous birds of prey, or by fire, 
 as with the Hindus, more aesthetic and poetical than 
 the slow, wasting, worm-eating corruption of the grave — 
 a method that is just as revolting as that of the Parsees. 
 Besides it is in opposition to all sanitary laws, and is often 
 the source of dangerous disease. 
 
 Among the pleasantest excursions I made while in Bom- 
 bay was one to the palm-groves of Mahim, in company 
 with my host Herr Blaschek. It was a delightful Sunday 
 morning — my first in India — and I shall never forget its 
 many charming impressions. To fully enjoy the perfect 
 freshness of a morning in the tropics one must rise be- 
 fore the sun; accordingly the first sunbeams of this cloudless 
 and beautiful Sunday found us already riding among the 
 gigantic old banyans at the northern foot of Cumbala Hill. 
 
 The native huts in the shelter of these large trees, fre- 
 quently entirely hidden among the root-branches, were the 
 theatre of those original domestic scenes which so divert the 
 European stranger. Whole families in the costume of the 
 Garden of Eden squatted along the roadside, and gave ad- 
 ditional lustre to their brown skins by copious applications 
 of cocoa-oil. At the same time affectionate brothers and 
 sisters, or perhaps parents and children, were engaged in 
 a vigorous search for the tiny, slowly-creeping insect that 
 populates the long black hair of their heads, but being 
 devout Hindus, and not permitted to take life, however 
 insignificant, the little captives were merely set to one side; 
 some of the natives were resorting to more efficacious reme- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 33 
 
 dies — shaving their heads, or bathing in the pools by the 
 wayside. Others were indolently stretched under the 
 trees, or among the branches. 
 
 Far more interesting were the sights in the palm-groves 
 of Mahim, where the “ toddy- tapper” climbed nimbly to 
 the tops of the tallest palms to collect the sap which had 
 accumulated during the night, or dextrously swung him- 
 self from tree to tree on the ropes stretched between them. 
 Other native laborers were busy with the morning meal. 
 
 As for me, I never wearied watching the lovely effects of 
 the sunlight among the quivering foliage and graceful 
 stems of the noble cocoas, and on the giant leaves of the 
 bananas at their feet. Flowers also bloomed everywhere, 
 and these, as well as the butterflies and moths hovering over 
 them, were noticeable for their extraordinary size, gorgeous 
 hues, and singular form. Here and there waved clumps of 
 graceful bamboos of which the huts scattered throughout 
 the grove are built and thatched. Along the paths wan- 
 dered all kinds of domestic animals, pigs and dogs, chickens 
 and ducks; and sporting among them, the charming forms 
 of the naked Hindu children with their great black ques- 
 tioning eyes! 
 
 After we had rambled through the grove for an hour or 
 more we set out for the seashore; but the path we chose 
 soon led us to an extensive morass. Fortunately a two- 
 wheeled bullock-cart driven by a Hindu lad came up with 
 us; we climbed into this elegant conveyance, and after 
 nearly sticking fast in the mire once or twice, were safely 
 hauled to solid ground. On the shore we saw groups of 
 the curious pandanus or screw-pines, whose adventitious 
 roots made them appear as if standing on stilts. The 
 spiral stem forks at the top like a candelabra, every branch 
 bearing a foliated tuft. Immense cobwebs from one to two 
 metres across were stretched between the branches. These 
 were the property of beautifully marked spiders of enor- * 
 mous size, their bodies alone measuring six centimetres, 
 and their slender legs ten centimetres. To capture one of 
 the little monsters was not a very difficult task, and he soon 
 found his death in my spirit bottle. The threads of his 
 web were astonishingly firm and tenacious, as strong almost 
 as linen twine. While we were engaged in the exciting 
 spider-chase a flock of green parrots — the first I had seen 
 
34 
 
 INDIA AND GET LON 
 
 in their native freedom — flew screaming from the tops of 
 the palms. 
 
 A succession of zoological surprises awaited me on the 
 sands, which the ebb-tide had left exposed for quite a dis- 
 tance. Here I found lovely specimens of the blue medusa 
 ( Crambessa ) which measured more than a foot in diameter, 
 and a globe-fish (. Diodon ) with a prickly hide and inflated 
 abdomen. In the sand were numbers of mussels and snails — < 
 all of them characteristic of Indian waters — which I had seen 
 only in the zoological collections of different European 
 museums. I also found some serpulidans, a variety of 
 crustaceans (among them the nimble sand-crab), and 
 numerous fish skeletons, mingled with the skulls and 
 other parts of the human anatomy. The latter were the 
 remains of the low-caste Hindus who had been buried in 
 the sand on the shore. These and other zoological treas- 
 ures filled my specimen case to overflowing when, at noon, 
 we set out on our return to the city. 
 
 Another very interesting part of Bombay is the sacred 
 village of Walkeschwan, which is but a short distance from 
 the bungalow of my host — between it and the governor’s 
 house on Malabar Point. I frequently, and at different 
 periods of the day, visited this singular precinct, which is 
 inhabited only by Hindus of the highest caste, and on every 
 visit found something to excite my astonishment and wonder. 
 No member of a lower caste is allowed to defile this sacred 
 spot by his unclean presence. The centre of attraction in 
 Walkeschwan, as in all other sacred communities, is the 
 square pool or tank of water which is reached by broad 
 flights of steps. It is enclosed on all sides by numerous 
 temples and kiosks. The former are ornamented with the 
 characteristic white domes — some of which are shaped like 
 a mitre, others like a broad, low obelisk. 
 
 The temples, like the huts of the natives, open toward 
 the street; in the middle of the single pillared hall lies a 
 sacred bull adorned with flowers. Other objects of adora- 
 tion — singular stone symbols of the Phallic worship— are 
 placed at various points throughout the village and its 
 suburbs. These are smeared with red paint, and are 
 devoutly worshipped by childless people who paste bits 
 of gilt paper on them, and by offerings of flowers hope to 
 be blessed with offspring. On the steps of the temples, or 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 35 
 
 on those leading to the sacred pool, crouch the holy peni- 
 tents engaged in most peculiar devotional exercises. Most 
 of these fakirs are impostors who enjoy their dolce far niente 
 at the expense of a credulous and benevolent community. 
 Their naked bodies are smeared with oil and ashes, and 
 their long hair, which is never combed, represents a pecu- 
 liar kind of plica Polonica — a densely-populated zoological 
 territory! • 
 
 One merit these fanatics may justly claim: strength to 
 endure persistent self-torture. One old fellow has kept his 
 fist clenched until the fiuger-nails have grown through the 
 palm of his hand. Another has held his arm in an up- 
 right position until it has lost all feeling and power of mo- 
 tion. A third has gashed his face and body, and by con- 
 stantly applying ashes to the wounds, has kept them in a 
 state of suppuration until he is a revolting sight to behold. 
 It is a well-known fact that religious delusions will lead a 
 man into all sorts of madness and folly — especially if he be 
 under the domination of priestly impostors — but few reli- 
 gions require the extreme measures of the Brahma cultus. 
 
 My frequent sketching tours through the sacred village 
 enabled me to study the habits of the privileged class of 
 idlers frequenting the temples. The principal occupation 
 of these noble Brahmans who, as bona-fide mendicant friars, 
 subsist on the charity of the superstitious and generous 
 Hindus of the lower castes, seems to be a luxurious inaction 
 and forbearance from labor. Only on rare occasions is their 
 philosophical indolence interrupted by external religious ex- 
 ercises — among which the ablutionary performances at least 
 are to be commended. On such occasions the pool is filled 
 with bathers of both sexes. I was greatly amused by the 
 merry, clothing-disdaining youths that crowded around me 
 to comment on the sketches I had made of the bathers. 
 They were especially diverted by the caricature I had exe- 
 cuted of a howling, wildly-gesticulating fakir. These lads 
 were evidently not yet infected with the orthodoxy of their 
 parents. The school in Walkeschwan also furnished some 
 interesting subjects for my sketch-book. The old gray- 
 haired teacher was immensely gratified to learn that I was 
 a colleague of his — a piece of information I conveyed to him 
 through pantomime. 
 
 In the immediate vicinity of the temple of wisdom I had 
 
36 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 an opportunity to learn something about the Hindu science 
 of physics. A difficult accouchement was performed, with 
 the most remarkable instruments, in the public thorough- 
 fare, while a constable or policeman maintained order 
 among the assembled lookers-on, and graciously explained 
 to me the importance of the affair! Near by a second 
 Hindu Esculapius by a series of punches and thumps was 
 exorcising the devil from the pain-racked fofcn of a rheu- 
 matic patient. 
 
 The celebrated cave-temples on the island of Elephanta 
 were also visited; but, as they have already been described 
 and illustrated in the numerous books of Indian travel, I 
 shall confine my observations to a brief confession of disap- 
 pointment. They did not come up with my expectations; I 
 had imagined them far more magnificent and imposing. 
 Actual beauty is out of the question in the grotesque sculp- 
 tures and superfluous ornamentation of the Indian tem- 
 ples. The disgusting and unnatural combinations of 
 human and animal forms, the deities with three heads, 
 distorted features, eight arms and legs, etc., are extremely 
 repugnant to me. I am one of the few heretics who share 
 Goethe’s opinions of the “ distorted and crazy temples of 
 Elephanta.” However, the temples of Elephanta, with their 
 sculptured minutiae, remarkable pillared halls and em- 
 blems, cut from the living rock, will amply repay the curi- 
 ous visitor. We made the excursion from Bombay in a 
 small steam launch, from which we had a superb view of 
 the harbor and mountains and of the Concan coast, be- 
 tween which and Bombay lie the island of Elephanta, and 
 the bare red rocks of Trombay Island. I shall always re- r 
 member Elephanta, for it was there I first looked on the 
 wonderful exuberance of the tropical flora in its natural 
 state. Of course I had visited the Victoria Botanic Garden, 
 which contains a number of the most beautiful of tropical 
 plants, such as palms, bamboos, bananas, pandanus, bread- 
 fruit, papaya, lotus, pistachio, etc.; but the pleasure I ex- 
 perienced in the Garden is not to be compared with my 
 delight when I beheld, on Elephanta, India’s most impos- 
 ing flora growing with the wanton luxuriance which is in- 
 tolerant of garden restraint. Here lianas of all sorts, and 
 climbing ferns clothe the trunks of giant teaks; here the 
 noblest cocoa-palms incline their graceful stems toward the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 37 
 
 shore which is fringed with curious pandanus shrubs, and 
 fortified to the very water’s edge by a wall of mangrove 
 roots. Here the parasitic fig, convolvuli, and other creepers 
 twine around the black upright stems of the mighty Pal- 
 myra palms. Here are magnificent banyans, from whose 
 wide-spreading branches depend huge air-roots, which in 
 time take root in the ground, and become supports to the 
 mother crown. And there — see! there* is a powerful mur- 
 derer (a parasitic vine) strangling a noble palm in bis 
 deadly embrace, and a little farther on the fellow’s brother 
 clasps the dead trunk of his victim in his leafless and with- 
 ered arms — the tree died first, then the same fate overtook 
 his murderer. 
 
 Among all these the slender bamboo holds aloft his huge 
 bouquet; bananas and plantains expand their broad green 
 plumes; deliciously -fragrant blossoms unfold their chalices; 
 the feathery acacia unfolds its delicate canopy; prickly eu- 
 phorbias interweave their stems into dense hedges. Thus, 
 on Elephanta, the tropical vegetation of which I had read 
 and dreamed for thirty years became at last a palpable 
 reality. 
 
 Among all these vegetable beauties thousands of gor- 
 geous insects hung in the sun-warmed air; huge brilliant 
 buprestidans hummed through the thickets; hundreds of 
 agile lizards and snakes darted among the undergrowth, 
 flocks of gay-plumaged birds flew screaming harshly from 
 branch to branch — all new, never before seen alive or out 
 of a museum ! 
 
 And yet they were all old acquaintances. Like a happy 
 child I darted after the enchanting creatures, laid hold of 
 the trees and plants to convince myself that I was not dream- 
 ing of fairy-land. 
 
 My brief stay in Bombay admitted of but one extended 
 tour to the mainland — an excursion to Lanaulie and the 
 Karli cave-temples. In company with a fellow-traveler on 
 the Helios — Count Hunvady — I left Bombay at noon on 
 the 11th of November. Delightful weather favored us; at 
 times, however, the sun became a trifle too ardent — the mer- 
 cury registering in the shade at noon 30° R. The nights 
 were proportionately warm, the thermometer once at mid- 
 night marking 25°. The railway journey to Lanaulie is 
 one of five hours’ duration, and ours drew from us, besides 
 
38 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 copious perspiration, many a sigh over the torrid atmos- 
 phere. And yet the first-class coach in which we traveled 
 had all the modern appliances for comfort: the double roof 
 projected on either side; there were blinds and green glass 
 for the windows; cool leather-cushioned seats; ingenious 
 devices for ventilation, and best of all, small compartments 
 in which one might refresh one’s self with a bath in cool 
 water. Each of the first-class coaches contains two saloons 
 which accommodate but six passengers. The seats or sofas 
 — of which there are three, two lengthwise and one across — 
 are transformed into comfortable beds at night; three addi- 
 tional beds are put up four feet above the lower ones, thus 
 forming six couches which are larger and much more com- 
 fortable than the berths in the cabin of a ship. 
 
 The traveler’s portmanteau is disposed of by the porter; 
 he may promenade at will through the little saloon and 
 enjoy a view of the fleeting landscape from the numerous 
 windows. The prospect was of exceeding interest to me, 
 and I was happily able to secure a number of satisfactory 
 sketches of the country we traversed during the five hours’ 
 ride. The railway which traverses a large section of 
 Bombay, passes Byculla, Parell, and Sassoon, then crosses a 
 bridge over the narrow arm of the sea between Bombay 
 and Salsette Islands, then another bridge to the mainland 
 of Hither India. Our route for several hours was over the 
 flat lowland of Ooncan; numerous villages of wretched bam- 
 boo huts and several larger but unimportant towns gave 
 us an idea of the Mahratta population of this region. 
 
 During the rainy season (from June to September) the 
 extensive plains of the coast are covered with a luxuriant 
 growth of tall grass, and, in some places, are cultivated 
 with rice, corn, etc. When we crossed them the vegetation 
 was withered, and the broad grassy stretches sere and yel- 
 low. The evergreen plants alone retained their fresh tint, 
 the banana and fig trees, and that important treasure of 
 the Concan flora, the stately Palmyra palm ( Borassusfia - 
 lelliformis ). Thousands or rather millions of this noble 
 tree are everywhere visible — now in groups, now alone — 
 giving the lowland its characteristic physiognomy. Like 
 the cocoa and date-palms, the Palmyra palm is one of the 
 most useful plants — almost every part of it is used for one or 
 more domestic or technical purposes. Especially attractive 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 39 
 
 were the groves of this tree on the banks of the reed-fringed 
 ponds past which we steamed. These miniature lakes, to- 
 gether with the naked brown forms of the natives, the two- 
 wheeled bullock-carts, the wallowing buffaloes, and the little 
 square reed huts, formed a lovely picture, beyond which 
 towered the jagged crest of the Bhor-Ghaut. 
 
 At Kurjut, at the foot of the mountain, the light loco- 
 motive which had brought us from Bombay was exchanged 
 for one adapted to the heavier grade (1.37) before us, and 
 soon the ascent became clearly perceptible — rising over 
 2000 feet in a few hours. Numerous turrets and viaducts, 
 as well as the sudden turns of the road, remind one of the 
 picturesque roads in the Alps — the Semmering and the 
 Brenner. (The steepest grade on the latter is only 1.40.) 
 
 The landscape assumes an entirely different character; 
 the palms which abundantly adorn the lowland country 
 disappear, and in their room appear mighty, umbrageous 
 forest trees, the stately tobacco plant, and the wool-tree 
 with its immense leaves. 
 
 The escarpment of the tabular highland, which in some 
 places presents a succession of steps or terraces, is here and 
 there cloven by deep gorges; these are clothed with dense 
 masses of shrubbery which give the mountain a European 
 character, although the peculiar configuration of the Bhor- 
 Ghaut is very little like any range in Europe. Now Ihese 
 stupendous rock-masses rise to a perpendicular wall of 
 more than a thousand feet; now they present a succession 
 of broad, truncated pyramids; now a mural front whose 
 battlements and turrets at a distance appear like a mighty 
 fortress. Although the plutonic masses which form the 
 Bhor-Ghaut, .(they are principally black trap and basaltic 
 syenite) are totally different from the stratified sandstone of 
 our Swiss mountains, yet, in its exterior configuration, this 
 isolated table-land in some places is strikingly similar to 
 them. 
 
 As sudden as the transformation in the landscape, from a 
 scene of tropical splendor in the 19th degree of latitude 
 to one of more austere character in the 53d degree, is the 
 change of the air we breathe. A breezy coolness succeeds 
 the oppressive heat of the lowlands, and it is with unspeak- 
 able delight that we inhale the invigorating mountain air. 
 One only fully appreciates the benefits of a temperate cli- 
 
40 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 mate when under the enervating influence of the tropical 
 sun. 
 
 The higher we ascend the more like home it seems; but 
 this allusion is rudely dispelled by the information that, 
 two years ago, in the ravine below us, an English officer 
 was killed by a tiger. Two streams of water here fall from 
 a considerable height, and in the rainy season form copious 
 waterfalls; but at present they are mere threads of mois- 
 ture, and sparse yellow grass covers the spaces which are 
 not overgrown with jungle. 
 
 Shortly before reaching Lanaulie we passed Matheron Sta- 
 tion, which is a favorite summer resort for the wealthier 
 residents of Bombay. Beautiful views of the surrounding 
 country may be had from various elevations in the neigh- 
 borhood. A singular rock formation near Matheron is 
 called the “Duke’s Nose” — in honor, I believe, of the Duke 
 of Wellington! 
 
 It was quite dark when at seven o’clock we arrived at 
 Lanaulie — 2100 feet above the sea — and found really toler- 
 able quarters in the diminutive “hotel” kept by a Parsee. 
 Before retiring for the night we made arrangements for an 
 excursion the next morning to the Karli caves, Buddhist 
 rock-temples which, in extent and wealth of sculptures, sur- 
 pass all others of a like character in India. We engaged 
 ponies for a five-o’clock start; but when we made our ap- 
 pearance at the appointed hour we found that a stately 
 coach, drawn by two horses, had been substituted by the 
 cunning landlord for the little mountain ponies we had 
 hired. Although dissatisfied with this arrangement, which 
 was a more profitable one for the landlord, we took our 
 places in the coach, which conveyed us about half a mile 
 over a good road; then we were obliged to continue the 
 journey on foot for more than a mile through fields and 
 meadows, and at last up an almost precipitous hill. 
 
 The caves are situated half way up the western declivity 
 of a trachjte hill that rises more than a thousand feet 
 above the plateau of Lanaulie. The Karli cave-temples 
 are much older and larger than the Brahman cave-temples 
 of Elephanta; the sculptures are less complex and gro- 
 tesque; the representations of human arid animal forms 
 more natural; they are, on the whole, the most perfect 
 structures of the kind in existence. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 41 
 
 Like the temples of Elephanta, and many others of a 
 similar character in India, those of Karli, as well as the 
 forms of man and beast nrofusely ornamenting the walls, 
 are excavated and cut from he solid rock. The lofty in- 
 terior of the Tschaitya temple, a gigantic vault resembling 
 the interior of a hollow cylinder, is divided by two rows of 
 ''columns, with a broad central nave and two narrow side 
 aisles. The numerous male and female statues, elephants, 
 lions, etc., as well as the pillars and door-posts, are very 
 ingeniously carved from the hard black trap-rock, and 
 smoothly polished. Above, and on either side of this 
 temple, are a number of smaller excavations, from which, 
 at our approach, flew swarms of bats. Several priests who 
 pass their lives in these solitudes solicited alms from us, and 
 while they mumbled prayers of "gratitude for the gifts be- 
 stowed, harsh cries sounded from the rocks above us. On 
 looking up we beheld a number of large black apes, which 
 were the first I had seen in their untamed state, and 
 which, on comparison with the dirty, naked, begging 
 monks, seemed quite respectable as ancestors. 
 
 III. 
 
 Colombo. 
 
 Ok the 21st of November, amid the glorious effulgence 
 of a cloudless tropical morning, I set foot on that ever-ver- 
 dant wonder-island on which I ‘was to spend four of the 
 most enjoyable and edifying months of my life. The 
 Helios , which had brought us in five days of uninterrupt- 
 edly fair weather over a sea as smooth as glass, from Bom- 
 bay to Ceylon, sighted the island at midnight on the 20th, 
 and the first gray dawn was just breaking when I went on 
 deck to behold, as soon as possible, the “promised land” 
 of my scientific longings. 
 
 Before us in the east, above the dim mirror of the Indian 
 Ocean, lay a slender, misty bank that, when the brief morn- 
 ing twilight of the tropics gave place to the swiftly ap- 
 proaching day, revealed itself as the cocoa-fringed west 
 coast of Ceylon. The conical peak towering conspicuously 
 above the mountain chain of the central highlands was 
 
42 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 Adam’s Peak — world-famed for the superstitions myths 
 and legends which envelop it. When the brilliant sun ap- 
 peared above the mountains we were able to distinguish 
 a second and lower range of hills between the highlands 
 of the interior and the coast. Soon the snowy-stemmed 
 cocoa-palms became clearly discernible, and on approaching 
 nearer, the salient features of Ceylon’s chief city, Colombo, 
 also stood revealed. 
 
 Directly in front of us lay the fort and the harbor, on 
 the right (to the south) the suburb of Colpetty, on the left 
 (north) the pettah, or “ Black Town.” 
 
 To me the cloudless sky and fresh, aromatic breeze which 
 favored my first view of the long-dreamed-of island were 
 signs of good luck. Usually in the morning the mountains 
 are either wholly or partially obscured by heavy mists. The 
 first boat to approach our vessel was that of the pilot who 
 took us into the harbor, where we were soon surrounded by 
 boats of a shape peculiar to the South Asiatic islands. 
 These are hollow logs of perhaps twenty feet in length, 
 three feet in depth and scarcely one and a half feet in 
 width — so narrow that a grown person cannot sit in them 
 without placing one foot behind the other. At the extrem- 
 ity of two elastic outriggers, which extend from one side 
 of the boat, is a balance-log that gives an astonishing degree 
 of security to the frail craft. As I had occasion later to 
 use these singular canoes for my zoological excursions, I 
 had an opportunity to test their advantages as well as to 
 experience their disadvantages. At first sight of their 
 picturesque form, however, only my artistic perceptions 
 were aroused; perhaps too I was influenced by their Singha- 
 lese crews — in their way quite as rare and peculiar as the 
 boats themselves. 
 
 The natives crowded the decks of the Helios and offered 
 for sale fruits, fish, and other products of their country, as 
 well as trifling articles of their industry. Most of them 
 wore only the “comboy” or “ sarong,” a piece of red cotton 
 cloth that hung, apron-fashion, from a belt at the waist. 
 They wear their long black hair in a knot fastened at the 
 back of the head with a tortoise-shell comb, a style of coif- 
 fure that increases the effeminate appearance of their 
 slender figures, small feet and hands, and delicate features. 
 The nude black Tamils, whose coal-boats surrounded the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 43 
 
 Helios , are a sturdier race of people than the Singhalese; 
 there is also a marked difference between these two races 
 and the moormen, stately fellows in long white caftans, 
 trunk-hose, and yellow turbans, who deal in precious stones, 
 shells, and silver ornaments. The prices demanded for 
 these articles are usually three or four, sometimes ten times 
 their actual value; one of our passengers paid one rupee for 
 a brilliant stone that had been ofEered but a few moments 
 before for eighty rupees! This “precious stone , 55 like 
 most of the “gems” of the “ Ruby Island,” was nothing 
 but the product of some ingenious European manufacturer 
 of ground glass. Gems of this sort are imported from 
 Europe in large quantities every year. 
 
 My reception from Herr Stipperger, the agent of the 
 Austrian Lloyd in Colombo, to whom I had letters of in- 
 troduction from that company, as well as from mutual 
 friends in Triest and Bombay, was most cordial. Without 
 further ceremony he invited me to become his guest while 
 I remained in Colombo, and did everything in his power 
 to render my stay both pleasant and profitable. If, during 
 my four months 5 sojourn in Ceylon I saw and enjoyed, 
 learned and accomplished, more than many other travelers 
 could have done in a whole year, then I owe it all to the 
 generous kindness of my “Singhalese Providenza , 55 as I 
 jestingly dubbed my friend Stipperger. This gentleman, 
 who is a native of Vienna, and only a few years my senior, 
 was formerly in the Austrian navy, from which he entered 
 the service of the Austrian Lloyd Company. I can only 
 wfish that his present position may amply recompense his 
 manifold and distinguished abilities. After cordially bid- 
 ding adieu to the officers and passengers on the Helios , 
 who were going to Singapore and Hong Kong, I quitted 
 the gallant ship which had brought me so safely and pleas- 
 antly from Triest, and accompanied Herr Stipperger in a 
 boat to the land. Through the kind intervention of the 
 latter gentleman, and with the aid of the official documents 
 from the government in England to the governor of Cey- 
 lon, my numerous luggage passed toll-free through the 
 customs, and was spared the usual official examination — a 
 formidable task indeed with my sixteen trunks and boxes! 
 
 From the quay we drove to the office of the Austrian 
 Lloyd, and from there to breakfast in a club-house. Then 
 
44 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 I devoted the first hours after my arrival to making several 
 necessary visits, and delivered the several important letters 
 of introduction which the German consul at Colombo, Herr 
 Freudenberg (at present in Germany) had been kind enough 
 to give me. 
 
 In this manner I spent the morning and part of the after- 
 noon of my first day in Ceylon. By five o’clock I was ready 
 to accompany Herr Stipperger in his light two- wheeled 
 calash, drawn by a fleet Australian stallion, to his residence 
 “ Whist Bungalow,” which is a considerable distance (three 
 English miles) from the business centre, or “fort,” of the 
 city. Colombo, like Bombay and most of the more im- 
 portant East Indian towns, consists of a European business 
 quarter in the “fort,” and several suburbs which contain 
 the habitations of the native population. 
 
 The fort at Colombo was built in 1517 by the Portuguese, 
 who were the first European sovereigns on the island. They 
 landed in 1505 and remained perhaps 150 years — about as 
 long as their Dutch successors who drove them from the 
 island. Under the rule of the Dutch, as well as under the 
 English, who took possession of Ceylon in 1796, Colombo 
 maintained its importance as chief city, notwithstanding 
 many other places, especially Point de Galle, were in many 
 respects better calculated for the first ^lace. In late years 
 the British Government has strenuously sought to establish 
 Colombo’s precedence as a first-class seaport; consequently 
 it will doubtless continue to occupy its prominent position, 
 all its unfavorable conditions to the contrary notwithstand- 
 ing. 
 
 One would naturally suppose that the chief requirement 
 of a first-class seaport would be a good harbor. This 
 Colombo has not got, while Point de Galle has all the ad- 
 vantages of an extensive and natural roadstead. True, 
 nowadays harbors may be constructed anywhere along 
 a coast by dredging, and by the erection of substantial 
 piers, or breakwaters, as at Port Said, all that is necessary 
 thereto being money. 
 
 The English Government constructed a breakwater at the 
 southern extremity of the Colombo harbor, but strong 
 doubts are entertained as to whether this piece of masonry 
 will answer the purpose for which it was built without 
 frequent repairs at an enormous outlay of money and labor. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 45 
 
 On the other hand, the natural harbor of Point de Galle 
 might be improved at a much less expense; the few rocks 
 and coral reefs which hinder the passage of large ships 
 might, by the use of dynamite, be easily removed. The 
 contest for supremacy between these two seaports on the 
 west coast of Ceylon, has resulted in the victory of the 
 ancient capital over her rival, although the latter, by 
 virtue of her climate, situation, and environs, is more de- 
 serving of the prize. The climate of Colombo is excessively 
 hot and enervating — it is one of the hottest in the world! — 
 while the charming, verdure-clad hills around Point de 
 Galle render it an agreeable and healthful place of residence. 
 
 The country around Colombo is flat, and chiefly covered 
 by swamps and stagnant pools. The fort stands on a low 
 headland, of inconsiderable extent, that serves as a land- 
 mark of the level west coast of the island. Mention is 
 made of this headland in Ptolemy’s ancient geography, on 
 whose excellent map of Ceylon — “ Salike” — it is called 
 Jupiter’s Cape, Jovis Extremum . 
 
 The walls of the fort, which were strongly fortified by 
 the Dutch, are still surmounted by cannon, and almost 
 surrounded by water; two thirds of their circumference are 
 washed by the sea, and the remaining third (the south-east 
 side) by the waters of a broad lagoon. Several bridges cross 
 the latter and connect the fort with the mainland. The 
 few short and narrow streets, which cross each other at 
 right angles, are occupied principally by the offices and 
 warehouses of the European merchants, a number of pub- 
 lic and government buildings. Among the latter is the 
 “ Queen’s House,” the handsome palace of the governor, 
 which, standing in the midst of the most exuberant tropical 
 vegetation, with roomy pillared halls, large airy saloons, 
 and stately staircase, is the most imposing of the public 
 buildings. 
 
 I paid a visit to this stately palace the day after my ar- 
 rival, and delivered the letters from the English Government 
 to the governor. The interior arrangements are very taste- 
 ful and in keeping with the splendor of the British auto- 
 crat who rules the island. Numbers of Indian servants 
 in showy livery perform the domestic service of the Queen’s 
 House, while red and gold uniformed English soldiers stand 
 guard. Chatham Street, in which the office of the Austrian 
 
46 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 Lloyd Company is located, is, like many other streets in 
 Colombo and Point de Galle, embellished with rows of hibis- 
 cus trees, whose large crimson or yellow flowers cover the 
 ground in countless numbers. The shops in which I was 
 most interested are also in the same street, bazaars in which 
 you may purchase photographic views of scenery and living 
 animals. The very first hour in Ceylon I had the pleasure 
 of examining some views of the loveliest points in the sav- 
 age mountain region and along the picturesque coast, as 
 well as a sight of the astonishing wonders of vegetation: 
 palms, pandanus, lianas, tree-ferns, banyans, etc. No less 
 interesting was it for me in that first hour on the wonder- 
 island to make the acquaintance of some of its most attrac- 
 tive fauna, such as apes, axis, or spotted deer, parrots, 
 doves, etc. 
 
 On the south side of the fort are the quarters of the Eng- 
 lish soldiery, large airy barracks which extend to the banks 
 of the lagoon. Adjoining these is the military hospital, 
 and beyond it the esplanade, called here the “ Galle-face,” 
 because the high road to Point de Galle begins at this 
 point. Afternoons, between the hours of five and six, the 
 esplanade becomes a favorite place of assembly for the 
 wealth and fashion of Colombo. 
 
 Here, as in Hyde Park, London, fair ladies and gallant 
 gentlemen meet to recruit from the enervating heat of 
 midday, and to enjoy the sunsets which are always embel- 
 lished by the most marvellous cloud-pictures. The distin- 
 guished young gentlemen of Colombo are mounted on 
 horseback (some of the horses are sorry-looking hacks); 
 while the fair ladies, with bouquets of flowers, and in ele- 
 gant tropical toilettes, recline gracefully in their comfort- 
 able carriages. 
 
 As soon as the sun has disappeared everybody hurries 
 home — partly in dread of the fever-laden evening air, and 
 partly because important preparations are to be made for 
 the principal event of the day — dinner, a meal that is here 
 attended with as much ceremony as in “Old England.” 
 My first visit to the esplanade was during the hot hour of 
 noon, when I had an opportunity to test the full power of 
 the torrid rays which Helios sheds on such unsheltered 
 tracts. The outlines of objects around me quivered in the 
 heated air, and on the* red sand road, between the grass 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 47 
 
 bordering it on either side, I saw a fata morgana — a phe- 
 nomenon that frequently occurs here. The mirage reflected 
 a sheet of sparkling water that was forded by the wagons 
 and pedestrians coming toward me. The thermometer 
 hanging in the cool rooms of the club-house registered 24 
 E. Outside in the sun it would probably have risen to 36° 
 or 40°. 
 
 Adjoining the esplanade is the suburb of Kolupitya, or 
 Colpetty, which extends towards the south, between the flat, 
 sandy shore and the road, to Galle. On both sides of the 
 road are numbers of elegant villas surrounded by flourish- 
 ing gardens. This villa-quarter extends in a westerly di- 
 rection to the so-called “ Cinnamon Gardens” — a locality 
 that, since the English Government was forced to abandon 
 its cinnamon monopoly, has lost its original importance, 
 and has become the private property of wealthy merchants. 
 “Cinnamon Gardens,” with the handsome and costly resi- 
 dences scattered among the trees, is now considered the 
 most aristocratic villa-quarter in Colombo. But its dis- 
 tance from the seashore and the refreshing sea-breeze, as 
 well as its low situation and proximity to the arm of the 
 lagoon, are great disadvantages. The sultry heat here at- 
 tains its highest altitude, swarms of mosquitoes render the 
 evenings extremely unpleasant, while innumerable frogs of 
 all sorts disturb one’s rest by their loud nightly concerts. 
 The same may be said of the adjacent “Slave Island,”. so 
 called because the Dutch — in the preceding century — at 
 night penned the government slaves here. 
 
 And yet, notwithstanding all these disadvantages, this is 
 the most beautiful part of Colombo. The coves denting 
 the shores of the lagoon are encircled by cultivated gardens, 
 above which slender cocoa-palms incline their feathered 
 crests; elegant European villas and picturesque native 
 huts adorn the banks, while a noble background is formed 
 by the distant mountains of the central highlands, above 
 which towers the proud head. of the ever-conspicuous 
 Adam’s Peak. 
 
 An evening canoe ride on the peaceful bosom of the la- 
 goon is one of Colombo’s greatest pleasures. North of the 
 above-mentioned suburbs stretches the densely-populated 
 pettah , or “Black Town.” It extends for more than a 
 mile along the ocean front to the mouth of the Kalany- 
 
48 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 ganga, from which stream the city took its original name 
 of Kalan-totta, or Kalan-bua. 
 
 Ibn Batula in 1340 called it Kalambu, and described it 
 as the “'largest and finest city of Serendib” — the ancient 
 Arabian name of the island. Kalambu, under the Portu- 
 guese, became Colombo. 
 
 Near the wide delta of the stately Kalany, not far from 
 the shore of the Indian Ocean, stands the house of my 
 friend Stipperger, with whom I spent %my first pleasant 
 weeks in Ceylon. This section of Colombo, which bears the 
 rather singular name of Mutwal, or Modera, is, to my 
 thinking, one of the most interesting in the whole region. 
 I shall never forget the strange medley which, like the 
 shifting scenes of a laterna magica , passed before my as- 
 tonished gaze as I drove from the fort to Whist Bungalow. 
 In the open huts, under the shadow of the omnipresent 
 cocoa-palm — everywhere in the narrow streets of th epettah, 
 one might see how this heterogeneous population lived, 
 moved, and had its being. Here, as in all localities of the 
 Torrid Zone, the domestic economy of the natives is char- 
 acterized by little or no privacy, for as the heat of the 
 tropical sun renders covering for the human form unneces- 
 sary, so, too, the interiors of the huts and bazaars are 
 exposed to the public gaze — neither windows nor doors 
 preventing the outsider from seeing everything that trans- 
 pires within. 
 
 Instead of doors and windows there is a single large 
 opening in the front of the hut or bazaar, that at night, or 
 during inclement weather is closed by a curtain of matting, 
 or a sliding wooden lattice. The artisan may be seen at 
 work in his shop, sometimes in the public thoroughfare, 
 while the most intimate scenes of domestic and family life 
 are not withdrawn from the curious gaze of the public. 
 
 "The peculiar charm of these Indian homes lies partly in 
 this naive publicity of domestic affairs, partly in the primi- 
 tive simplicity of their requirements — the few household 
 articles attesting this fact — and partly in their harmony 
 with surrounding nature. The little gardens which en- 
 circle every hut are so unartificial in their arrangement, 
 the few useful plants which represent the natives’ principal 
 possession are grouped so picturesquely around the tiny 
 dwellings, that everything seems to have sprung sponta- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 49 
 
 neously from the fruitful soil. The most important of these 
 useful plants is the “ prince of the vegetable kingdom” — 
 the palm — the cocoa-palm in particular. Every part of 
 this tree, which frequently constitutes the sole wealth of 
 the Singhalese, is used for some purpose; accordingly it is 
 seen growing everywhere, in the cities and villages as well 
 as in remote districts. It is the tree which first attracts 
 the eye of the new-comer, and gives character to the land- 
 # scape. The number of cocoa-palms on the island is about 
 forty millions, and each tree yields from eighty to one hun- 
 dred nuts (8-10 quarts of oil). The cocoa-palm is not 
 found in the northern half of the island, nor in some parts 
 of the east coast. In these regions its place is supplied by 
 the not less useful Palmyra palm — the same species that 
 covers the arid regions of Hither India, and that grows in 
 such profusion near Bombay. Even at a distance these 
 two palms are very dissimilar. The Palmyra belongs to 
 the fan-palm family, and has a vigorous, perfectly upright 
 black stem that is crowned by a thick tuft of stiff, fan- 
 shaped leaves. The cocoa is a feather-palm; its slender 
 white stem, from sixty to eighty feet high, is gracefully 
 curved, and adorned with a ponderous crown of immense 
 pinnate leaves. The foliage of the elegant Areca palm 
 ( Areca catechu ) is similar, but smaller and less flexible; it 
 has a thin, reed-like, upright stem, is always to be found 
 near the huts of the Singhalese, and bears the favorite nut 
 which, when chewed with the leaves of the betel-pepper, 
 stains the teeth and saliva a red color. Another palm, the 
 kitool ( Caryota urens ), is cultivated chiefly for its abun- 
 dant saccharine sap, from which are prepared palm-sugar 
 (jaggery) and palm-wine (toddy). Its powerful and vigor- 
 ous stem supports a crown of double feathery leaves which 
 resemble those of the maidenhair fern ( Adiantum capillus 
 veneris). The bread-fruit and mango trees in the little 
 gardens, rank next in importance to the palms. Of the 
 former there are two kinds: the true bread-fruit ( Artocar - 
 pus incisa) and the jack-tree ( Artocarpus integrifolia ), 
 magnificent specimens of which are to be found every-, 
 where, and among them frequently the singular cotton 
 tree ( Bombax ). Mingled with these may also be found the 
 beautiful banana or pisang plant, which certain.ly deserves 
 its name of “fig of Paradise.” Its golden fruit, eaten raw 
 
50 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 or cooked, is very nutritious and wholesome. Its huge 
 pale-green plumes drooping from a stem twenty or thirty 
 feet high are the loveliest decorations of the Singhalese 
 huts. Scarcely less effective for ornamental ^purposes is 
 the barbed foliage of the Caladium — which is cultivated for 
 its esculent root — and the palmate leaves of the pretty 
 mamhot shrub — a member of the Euphorbiaceae family. 
 The exquisite green of these plants contrasts finely with the 
 brown clay huts and the warm red tint of the soil (the re- 
 sult probably of an excess of oxide of iron). In perfect 
 accord with these tints is the cinnamon hue of the Singha- 
 lese complexion, and the deep black skins of the Tamils. 
 In Colombo, as well as on the south and west coasts of 
 Ceylon, the Singhalese constitute the majority of the popu- 
 lation. The name Singhalese is given to the descendants 
 of the Indian Hindus who, according to the Pali chronicle, 
 the Mahawanso , in the year 543 b.c., under Wijayo, in- 
 vaded Ceylon and subdued the aboriginal inhabitants of 
 the island. Of the latter race, the Veddahs — a tribe of 
 outcasts inhabiting the interior — are believed to be the de- 
 scendants. 
 
 The Singhalese were in turn driven from the northern 
 half of the island, as well as from the east coast and a 
 large portion of the central highlands, by the Malabars, or 
 Tamils, who came from Southern Hindustan, from the 
 Malabar coast. In stature, physiognomy, complexion, lan- 
 guage, religion, and customs, the Tamils are very different 
 from the Singhalese. They belong to another branch of 
 the Aryan genealogical tree. The Singhalese dialect seems 
 to have sprung from the Pali language, while the Malabars 
 speak the entirely dissimilar Tamil language. The religion 
 of the former is Buddhism; that of the latter Hinduism, or 
 Brahmanism. The Singhalese are devoted principally to 
 agriculture, the cultivation of palms, bananas, and other 
 useful plants; but are, nevertheless, very shy of hard work. 
 This is usually accomplished by the Malabars, who, in the 
 lowlands, work on the roads, are builders, carriers, coach- 
 men, etc., and in the highlands find employment on the 
 coffee plantations. At the present time the Malabars 
 (large numbers of whom yearly immigrate from the Indian 
 peninsula) constitute, perhaps, one third of Ceylon’s in- 
 habitants, while the Singhalese number three fifths of the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 51 
 
 whole population, which is about two and a half mil- 
 lions'. 
 
 Next to the Singhalese and Malabars the Indo- Arabians 
 or inoormen, form — according to number and influence — 
 the most important part of the native population of Cey- 
 lon. They number perhaps 150,000, or one tenth the 
 number of Singhalese. They are descended from those 
 i Arabs who, more than 2000 years ago, gained a firm foot- 
 hold in Ceylon, as well as in other parts of Southern and 
 South-eastern Asia, and who, between the eighth and 
 tenth centuries (until the arrival of the Portuguese) con- 
 ducted the principal commercial interests of the island. 
 The entire retail as well as a great part of the wholesale 
 trade of Ceylon is still in the hands of these active and en- 
 terprising sons of the desert, who, by their speculative 
 wisdom, craft, and pre-eminent skill for money-making, 
 here play a similar role to that of the Jews in Europe. In 
 many other respects they are like their remote kinsmen in 
 Europe, who have no representatives in Ceylon. 
 
 The language spoken and written by the moormen is a 
 mixture of Arabian and Tamil. They are chiefly Moham- 
 medans and Sunnites. Their complexion is a brownish- 
 yellow, their physiognomy unmistakably Semitic. Hair 
 and beard are generally long and black. Their powerful 
 frames, which are clad in long white burnous and wide 
 white trousers, appear all the more stately among the 
 Tamils and Singhalese, because of the' tall yellow turbans 
 — shaped like a bishop’s mitre — they wear on their head$. 
 
 In addition to these three predominant races, the popu- 
 lation of Ceylon is made up of aboriginal tribes, the V<ed- 
 dahs and Rodiyas (of whom there are perhaps 2000), Ma- 
 lays and Javanese (who are principally enlisted as solders), 
 Parsees and Afghans (mostly money-changers and usurers), 
 'Negroes and CaflTes (soldiers and servants). The ofl spring 
 of these different native races by intermarriage with Euro- 
 peans, exhibit the most diverse characteristics, and offer 
 interesting difficulties to anthropological classification. 
 To these belong the “Burghers,” the descendants of the 
 Portuguese and the Dutch, in whose veins runs more or 
 less Singhalese or Tamil blood. This class furnishes the 
 clerks and accountants in the offices and warehouses, the 
 subordinate officers of the government, in which positions 
 
52 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 they are highly esteemed. Lastly, the number of Euro- 
 peans — the “ foreign” rulers of the island — is only about 
 three or four thousand, and these are chiefly English and 
 Scotch. In the cities they occupy all the higher govern- 
 ment offices, and own all the larger commercial houses. 
 In the mountain districts they form the numerous and re- 
 markable class of “ planters” with whose peculiar mode of 
 life I became familiar during my travels through the high- 
 lands. 
 
 According to the census of 1857 (twenty-five years ago), 
 the total number of inhabitants in Ceylon then was only 
 
 1.760.000. In 1871 (eleven years ago), it had increased to 
 
 2.405.000, and at the present time there are over 2,500,000 
 souls on the island. 
 
 If we assume that the number of inhabitants amounts to 
 the round sum of two and a half millions, then the con- 
 stituent parts may be divided as follows: 
 
 Singhalese (principally Buddhists) 1,500,000 
 
 Tamils or Malabars (mostly Hindus) 820^000 
 
 Indo-Arabians or moormen (chiefly Mohammedans). . . 15(1000 
 
 Mixed 10,000 
 
 Malays, Chinese, Caff res, and Negroes 8,000 
 
 Burghers (half-breed) 6,000 
 
 Europeans (chiefly English) 4,000 
 
 Yeddahs (aborigines) 2,000 
 
 Total 2,500,000 
 
 As the superficial area of Ceylon is 1250 geographical 
 square miles, scarcely one sixth less than that of Ireland, 
 it might very easily accommodate six or eight times its 
 present population. According to the ancient chronicles, 
 Ceylon, 2000 years ago, contained many more inhabi- 
 tants — perhaps more than twice its present number! The 
 depopulated and, to some extent, desolate northern half 
 of the island was in those days densely populated; and 
 where now impassable jungles afford secure retreats for 
 apes and bears, parrots and doves, flourished extensive 
 fields, rendered productive by a system of irrigation that 
 is worthy all admiration. The remains of these irrigation 
 tanks, as well as the noble ruins of the vanished cities, 
 Anarajapoora, Sigiri, Pollan arua, etc, to this day bear wit- 
 ness of their former magnificence. They show what might 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 53 
 
 again be accomplished on this “ jewel-island/ 5 this “no- 
 blest pearl in the diadem of India.” 
 
 IY. 
 
 Whist Bukgalow. 
 
 This charming villa stands, as I mentioned before, at 
 the northern extremity of Colombo, or rather Mutwal, 
 near where the Kalany River debouches on the sea. It is a 
 good hour’s distance from the business centre of the city; 
 and its isolated situation in the midst of natural beauties, 
 its distance from the noise and tumult of the fort, as well 
 as from the favorite villa-quarters, Colpetty and Cinnamon 
 Gardens, made it peculiarly attractive in my eyes. 
 
 Another weighty reason, perhaps, for my partiality 
 towards Whist Bungalow was the hospitable treatment I re- 
 ceived from its several occupants. Besides Herr Stipperger, 
 there were three other very agreeable countrymen of mine. 
 
 The “few days” I at first proposed to remain with Herr 
 Stipperger soon extended to a “few weeks,” and as I 
 made another visit of several days to the bungalow on my 
 return from the south, one month of the four passed on 
 the island was pleasantly spent in this delightful spot. 
 
 Whist Bungalow owes its peculiar name to the fact that 
 the first proprietor of the secluded villa, an old English 
 officer, at the beginning of the present century, was wont, 
 on Sundays, to invite his comrades to a whist-party. As 
 the rigid observances of the English Church would have 
 condemned these merry card-parties as a profanation of 
 the Sabbath they were kept a profound secret; and the 
 more the assembled warriors rejoiced at being able thus to 
 escape the tedium of the English Sunday and an orthodox 
 society, the more boisterous became the whist-parties — and 
 their consequent drinking-bouts — in the solitary bunga- 
 low. 
 
 At that time Whist Bungalow was a simple little cottage 
 hidden in the dense shrubbery of the garden. Its present 
 stately proportions were assumed under the proprietorship 
 of a Mr. Morgan, an advocate, who was a gay man of the 
 world, and who expended a large part of his fortune in en- 
 
54 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 larging and embellishing the villa — a little Miramare of 
 Ceylon — and making it worthy of its romantically beauti- 
 ful situation. The choicest ornamental trees and shrubs 
 were planted in the garden. A stately colonnade, with 
 airy veranda, encircled the enlarged mansion, while its 
 lofty saloons were furnished with princely magnificence. 
 For many a year Whist Bungalow was the scene of gay 
 parties and feasts which were far more luxurious and costly, 
 if not so boisterous and merry, than the less ostentatious 
 revels of the whist-players. It seems, however, that Mr. 
 Morgan’s large income was not sufficient for the colossal 
 expenditures of his Lucullan mode of life; he died unex- 
 pectedly, when it was found that a considerable deficit ex- 
 isted in his cash account. The numerous creditors seized 
 Whist Bungalow, and were glad at last to sell it at public 
 auction in order to realize at least a portion of the money 
 they had loaned Mr. Morgan. 
 
 An d now came a turning-point in the history of the 
 princely mansion, whose new proprietor was not long al- 
 lowed to rejoice in his bargain. Rumor, who had already 
 whispered many strange tales concerning the romantic 
 bungalow, now asserted audibly that it was “haunted ” by 
 the spirit of the suddenly deceased Mr. Morgan. Every 
 n ight — moonlight or not — the ghost was said to appear, 
 attended by hideous noises; white forms meandered through 
 the saloons; winged demons fluttered in the pillared halls; 
 and equally unearthly creatures with flaming eyes peram- 
 bulated the roof. The director-general of this ghostly 
 crew was, of course, the spirit of Mr. Morgan, of whom it 
 was now said that his suddenly evaporated wealth had not 
 been obtained by strictly honorable means; that he, like 
 some others of his calling, had employed his extensive 
 legal knowledge less in the interest of his clients than to 
 find means for transferring the contents of their treasure- 
 chests into his own. He was also said to have embezzled 
 large sums; to have defrauded widows and orphans, etc. 
 etc.; for all of which the divagations of his spirit among 
 the scenes of his former Bacchanalia was the punish- 
 ment. _ I 
 
 So many natives in the near neighborhood of Mutwal 
 had heard the ghostly clatter — some had even seen the ter- 
 rible demons — that the new proprietor of Whist Bungalow 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 55 
 
 would not live in it himself, nor could he find a tenant 
 for it. 
 
 Thus Whist Bungalow stood deserted and empty when 
 my friend Stipperger heard of it, and, on seeing the charm- 
 ing place, decided to rent it. But this had also its diffi- 
 culties. No servant willing to live in the haunted house 
 was to be found. This was accomplished only after sub- 
 stantial proofs of the ghost’s zoological origin had been 
 established. The first night Herr Stipperger spent in his 
 new home he armed himself to the teeth, and awaited the 
 appearance of the spirits, who proved to be, as he had con- 
 jectured, corporeal mammals of flesh and blood with whom 
 the defunct Mr. Morgan was not in the least analogous. 
 The mysterious noises, when silenced by a load of shot, 
 proved to be a congress of wild-cats; the ghosts of the 
 saloons and pillared halls manifested themselves as huge 
 bandicoot rats and flying foxes ( P ter ojpus ). The evidence 
 furnished by this night’s chase was so overwhelming that 
 the fears of the most timid servant were vanquished, and 
 my friend took peaceable possession of the isolated Whist 
 Bungalow. Order was at once restored to the large garden 
 which had become a wilderness; the dismantled rooms 
 were furnished anew, and when several German country- 
 men saw the restored villa they were so charmed with its 
 appearance they begged the new tenant to sublet several of 
 its numerous apartments to them. This was done; -and 
 when I arrived at Whist Bungalow I found there the quar- 
 tette, with whom I passed many a pleasant evening in con- 
 versation. There was never any lack of diverse individual 
 opinion, which, with us Germans, is quite indispensable — 
 the famous “German Unity” to the contrary notwith- 
 standing. Herr Both, from Hanau (to whom I am in- 
 debted for a neat collection of reptiles), represented the 
 Frankfort district of Germany in Ceylon; Herr Suhren, 
 from East Friesland (who presented me with a collection 
 of beautiful butterflies), the extreme north-west; and Herr 
 Herath, from Bayreuth (who delighted me with gifts of 
 birds of paradise, parrots, and honey-birds), the Bavarian 
 region of the Fatherland. 
 
 The peculiar charm of Whist Bungalow over all other 
 Colombo residences, lies partly in its delightful situation, 
 and partly in its magnificent surroundings. While the 
 
56 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 out-buildings — servants’ quarters, stables, etc.— lie hidden 
 behind the garden, the main structure stands on the bank 
 of a lovely stretch of water that extends along the west 
 side of the garden. The airy veranda commands a view of 
 the ocean, of the mouth of the Kalany-ganga, and of a lovely 
 little wooded island in its delta. Farther towards the north 
 the eye follows a belt of cocoa-forest that stretches alono- 
 the coast to Negombo. On the south, contiguous to the 
 garden of Whist Bungalow, lies a picturesque tract of land 
 over which, with a charming disregard for order, are scat- 
 tered fishing-huts under slender cocoa-palms, between them 
 a diminutive Buddha temple, and beyond them the rocks 
 of the shore, ornamented with grotesque pandanus shrubs, 
 etc. From this point a narrow sandy tongue of land juts 
 in a northerly direction towards the mouth of the river, 
 and, stretching in front of our garden, forms a peaceful 
 little inland sea, . The tongue of land which separates this 
 lake from the adjacent ocean is densely overgrown with the 
 lovely crimson-flowered goat’s-foot (Ipomea pes capri), and 
 the singular water-pink ( Spinifex squarrosus). It also 
 serves as terra firma for several fishing-huts, and all day 
 long a succession of animated and interesting pictures may 
 be seen along its strand. In the early morning, before the 
 sun has risen, the fishermen and their families here take 
 their morning bath, then the horses and oxen take theirs. 
 Industrious washers are busy from morning till night beat- 
 ing the clothes on smooth stones, or spreading them on 
 the bank to dry. Numerous fishing craft sail up and down, 
 and evenings, when they are drawn on the beach, and 
 their large square sails stretched out to dry, the tongue of 
 land, with the long row of motionless boats, affords an 
 exceedingly picturesque sight— especially if the sails are 
 swelled by the evening breeze, and the setting sun, just 
 dipping into the ocean, floods the entire Indian coast with 
 radiant gold, orange, and purple. 
 
 According to information received from my friends, this 
 sandy tongue has frequently changed in form. It is, in 
 fact, one of those movable bars which are found fronting 
 the outlets of all the larger rivers of Ceylon. The latter, 
 m their wild course from the mountains, bring with them 
 masses of gravel and sand, to which, in their more leisurely 
 progress through the low coast-land, the abundant rains 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 57 
 
 add large quantities of earth and mud. All this deposited 
 at the mouths of the rivers in a short time forms consid- 
 erable bars. The shape, size, and position of these bars is 
 constantly changing, according to the direction taken by 
 the outlets of the river through its level delta. In former 
 times the principal outlet of the Kalany-ganga was a mile 
 farther to the south, through the Cinnamon Gardens.^- 
 The lagoons in that suburb, which are still connected with* 
 the Kalany by narrow canals, are the remnants of the 
 former outlet; the largest portion of Colombo then occu- 
 pied the delta of the river. In a like manner the pic- 
 turesque bar opposite Whist Bungalow was at one time 
 connected with the mainland at its northern extremity, at 
 another time by its southern point, while the wooded islet 
 in the principal outlet of the river was at one time a pen- 
 insula, at another an isolated island. The shore of this 
 island, as well as the banks of the river adjoining the gar- 
 den of Whist Bungalow, is densely overgrown with re- 
 markable mangrove trees, whose peculiar land-producing 
 activity I witnessed the first time I visited their neighbor- 
 hood. The trees, which are comprised under the name of 
 mangrove, or mangle-tree, belong to very various genera 
 and families ( Rhizophora , Sonneratia , Lomnitzera , Avicen- 
 nia, etc.), but in their peculiar form of growth and conse- 
 quent physiognomy they all essentially agree — a compact, 
 usually circular, crown of foliage resting on a thick stem 
 that rises from a mass of bare, interlaced roots. These 
 dome-shaped root-works frequently rise above the surface 
 of the water six or eight feet; the mud and sand from the 
 surcharged rivers accumulate among them, and in this 
 manner a clump of mangroves can materially favor an in- 
 crease in the land. Many organic substances — dead bodies, 
 fragments of animals and plants — also lodge in the inter- 
 laced roots, converting in many tropical localities, the 
 mangrove-forest into a source of dangerous fevers. This , } 
 however, is not the case with the mangrove-forests of 
 Ceylon, where the watered regions (for instance, the stag- 
 nant lagoons of Colombo) are by no means unhealthy. 
 This, perhaps, may be accounted for by the fact that the 
 copious and almost continuous rains on the island fre- 
 quently renew the waters in the stagnant basins, and 
 remove the decomposing substances before they effect any 
 
58 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 harm. Instead of mangroves there are a number of beau- 
 tiful shrubs growing along the bank of our garden belong- 
 ing to the Asclepiadece family ( Cerbera , Taber ncemontana, 
 Plumiera), all of them distinguished by clusters of large, 
 white, deliciously-fragrant blossoms, like oleanders, hang- 
 ing from the ends of the candelabra-like stem which rises 
 t from the centre of a shining tuft of dark-green leathery 
 leaves. Most of these asclepia trees yield a poisonous milky 
 sap. They belong to the most numerous and most char- 
 acteristic decorations of the roadsides and swampy meadows 
 of the richly- watered lowlands in the south-western part of 
 the island. Between them, towering here and there above 
 the bank, are huge but dainty tufts of the giant-grasses 
 ( B ambus a ). 
 
 The garden proper of Whist Bungalow has, through the 
 tasteful care of its proprietor, been converted into a charm- 
 ing bit of paradise in which may be found representatives 
 of almost every important character-plant on the island; 
 thus forming not only an odorous and flourishing pleasure 
 garden, but an instructive botanic garden on a small scale. 
 The first time I visited it and wandered, intoxicated with 
 delight, among the palms and figs, bananas and acacias, I 
 obtained an excellent idea of the plants comprised in the 
 'flora of the lowlands. Naturally the first to deserve men- 
 tion is the noble family of palms: cocoa and talipot, areca 
 and borassus, caryota and Palmyra; then the splendid 
 light green bananas with their delicate, wind-torn plumes 
 and precious golden fruit. Besides the different varieties 
 of the common banana ( Musa sapientum), our garden con* 
 tains a tall, magnificent example of the curious fan-shaped 
 “ traveler’s-tree” of Madagascar ( Urania speciosa). To 
 the left of it is a fine specimen of the sacred fig tree ( Ficus 
 bengalensis ), that, with its air-roots depending from the 
 branches, some of them rooted in the ground, forms a very 
 curious object; several graceful Gothic arches are formed 
 by these root-trunks which act as supporting pillars for 
 the main branches. Other trees, of various groups (ter- 
 minalia, laurels, myrtles, iron-wood, bread-fruit, etc.), are 
 overgrown and festooned by those lianas which play so im- 
 portant a part in the flora of Ceylon. These belong to 
 various plant-families, for, in the midst of this unsur- 
 passed plenitude of existence, under the matchless influ- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 59 
 
 ence of perpetual hea-t and moisture, a multitude of differ- 
 ent plants, growing in the dense thickets of this verdant 
 wonder-island, climb upward by the aid of other plants to 
 the light and air. 
 
 Other adornments in our charming garden are large- 
 leaved callas, or Aroidecv , and graceful ferns — two plant- 
 groups that play an important role in the lower flora 
 of the island. Interspersed among the latter are many 
 more ornamental foliage and flowering plants, some of 
 which are indigenous to the island, and some from other 
 regions of the torrid zone — namely. South America — but 
 perfectly at home here. Above them tower stately hibiscus 
 trees with large crimson or yellow flowers; flame-acacias 
 ( Caesalpinia ) with huge, gorgeous, flame-colored nosegays; 
 mighty tamarinds with aromatic blossoms, and, hanging 
 in festoons from the branches, graceful thunbergias with 
 huge violet bells; aristolochias with large yellow and brown 
 trumpet-shaped blossoms. Of extraordinary size and gaudy 
 coloring are many of the flowers of the madder plants 
 ( Rnbiacece ), lilies, orchids, etc. 
 
 But I shall not further impose on the reader meagre 
 descriptions and uninteresting botanical terms in the vain 
 hope that they will give him an adequate conception of the 
 enchanting beauty unfolded by the Indian flora in Ceylon, 
 and first seen by me in the garden of Whist Bungalow and 
 on the banks of the Kalany Kiver. 
 
 The first morning I spent in this paradise I wandered 
 for hours intoxigated with delight from plant to plant, 
 from tree-group to tree-group, unable to decide which of 
 the countless wonders was most worthy of my attention. 
 How paltry now seemed everything I had admired at 
 Bombay! 
 
 The animal world which animates this Ceylon Paradise 
 cannot compare in abundance or size with the extraordi- 
 nary splendor and exuberance of the plant world. 
 
 In this respect the island, from what I have heard and 
 read, cannot compare with the mainland of India, or the 
 Sunda Islands. 
 
 It is also inferior to tropical Africa and Brazil, and I 
 must confess that my first disappointment increased rather 
 than diminished wdien I became familiar with the fauna of 
 the more unfrequented portions of the island. I had hoped 
 
60 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 to find the trees and bnshes covered with apes and parrots; 
 the flowers with butterflies and beetles of rare forms and 
 gorgeous hues. But neither the quantity nor quality of 
 what I found came up with my extravagant expectations, 
 and I had at length only the consolation of knowing that 
 all the zoologists that had visited Ceylon before me must 
 have experienced a similar disenchantment. However, ; 
 careful search will reveal, even to the critical zoologist, I 
 much that is new and interesting; the fauna of Ceylon is 
 after all no less original and curious, if not so abundant 
 and beautiful, as its flora. 
 
 The vertebrates which from the very first most attracted 
 me in the garden of Whist Bungalow and the neighbor- 
 hood around Colombo, were numerous reptiles of brilliant 
 hues and peculiar form, namely, snakes and lizards; pretty 
 little tree-frogs ( Ixalus ) whose strange bell-like notes are 
 heard everywhere in the evening. 
 
 Of the birds in the garden the most numerous are star- ! 
 lings and crows, water-wagtails, bee-eaters, and the dainty 
 little creature which here takes the place of the humming- 
 bird: the honey-bird ( Nectcirinia ); kingfishers, and herons 
 are found along the banks of the rivers. 
 
 Of the mammals in the garden by far the most numerous 
 are cunning little squirrels ( Sciurus tristriatus ) that scam- 
 per everywhere among the trees and bushes; they are very 
 tame and trustful — are a brown-gray with three white 
 streaks down their backs. 
 
 Among the insects, ants (from the most minute in size 
 to the largest kinds) are the most preponderant; then 
 termites or so-called “ white ants.” Other Hymenoptera 
 (wasps and bees) as well as the Diptera are largely repre- 
 sented. On the other hand, those orders which include 
 the largest and most beautiful forms — butterflies and 
 beetles — are not as abundant as one would naturally expect 
 from the exuberance of the vegetation. However, the 
 Orthoptera (grasshoppers, crickets, etc.) are both curious 
 and multiform. 
 
 Very interesting and remarkable articulates are offered 
 by the spider class, or Arachnida , from the smallest mites 
 and ticks to the gigantic bird-catchers and scorpions. 
 The closely-allied milleped, or myriapod family is also 
 largely represented; some of its members grow to an im- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 61 
 
 mense length — a foot long! and are greatly feared on ac- 
 count of their poisonous sting. I saw one of these colossal 
 fellows the first morning in the garden at Whist Bungalow, 
 but I had no time then to devote to animal-wonders, — my 
 attention was too closely engaged with the beauty of the 
 vegetable world. How gladly would I have devoted months 
 and years to the study of this magnificent flora for which 
 there were but a few short days and weeks at my disposal! 
 
 In addition to the attractions around me, the Indian sun 
 shone so brightly in a deep blue, cloudless sky that my 
 poor northern eyes were almost dazzled by the radiant light 
 and brilliant hues, and the tropical heat would have been 
 intolerable had there not been a cool gentle breeze from 
 the sea. It was the 22d of November, the birthday of my 
 dear father, who died ten years ago at the age of ninety. 
 To-day he would have celebrated the one hundredth anni- 
 versary of his birth, and as my intense love for nature is 
 an inheritance from him, a strangely solemn feeling came 
 over me when I remembered what day it was, and I ac- 
 cepted the rare enjoyment of these precious hours as a fit- 
 ting gift for this festal day! 
 
 Natural enjoyments like these have an inestimable value 
 above 1a.ll artistic and other pleasures in that they never 
 pall, and that the nature susceptible to their influence ever 
 returns to them . with renewed sympathy and increased 
 understanding. This is why the morning rambles in the 
 paradisal garden of Whist Bungalow and the surrounding 
 country — now along the banks of the river, now along the 
 seashore — were repeated on every successive morning good 
 fortune allowed me to remain in Colombo, and why I took 
 leave of Ceylon, on the 10th of March, 1882, with a feeling 
 of “ Paradise Lost”! My botanical information was ma- 
 terially increased by several visits I paid to different English 
 residents of Colombo and its suburbs. One visit in particu- 
 lar I remember with much pleasure. It was to the “ Villa 
 of the Temple-trees;” thus the plumiera trees are called 
 because their large, deliciously fragrant flowers, together 
 with the blossoms of the jasmine and the oleander, are 
 scattered as offerings in front of the image of Buddha in 
 the Buddhist temples. Two magnificent temple-trees, to- 
 gether with a gigantic casuarina, stood on the broad lawn 
 which separated the stately villa from the Galle road. The 
 
62 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 proprietor of this handsome residence, Mr. Staniforth 
 Green, had cordially invited me to spend several days with 
 him. I found him a most agreeable old gentleman, and a 
 most enthusiastic admirer of nature. Every hour he can 
 spare from his extensive coffee-mills is devoted to the culti- 
 vation of a beautiful garden, and in collecting and study- 
 ing the habits of insects and plants. With the sincere and 
 passionate care which characterized the naturalist of the 
 preceding century, and which is daily becoming more rare 
 among the “assiduous” young “scientists” of the present 
 day, Mr. Green has devoted years to studying the habits 
 and development of the most minute insects, and has made 
 a number of valuable discoveries, some of which have been 
 published in the English newspapers. 
 
 He has a large number of exceedingly interesting curiosi- 
 ties, some of which he very kindly presented to me. His 
 nephew, who is associated with him in business, is also 
 devoted to this favorite study, and has a handsome collec- 
 tion of insects. From him also I received a number of 
 gifts, among them several examples of the gigantic bird- 
 catching spider ( Mygole ), whose chase after little birds 
 (Nedarinia) and lizards ( Platydadylus ) Mr. Green has fre- 
 quently observed. 
 
 Mr. Green’s garden, which contains several ancient 
 “ flame acacias” ( Caesalpinia), as well as some splendid 
 yuccas and climbing palms ( Calamus ), lies on the banks of 
 a charming little cove of the lagoon which extends between 
 Colpetty, Slave Island, and the fort. One lovely evening 
 we rowed across the cove, whose surface was spangled with 
 exquisite white and red water-lilies, to the villa of Mr. 
 William Ferguson. This amiable old gentleman (for many 
 years superintendent of the construction of roads) also 
 devotes his leisure hours to zoological and botanical re- 
 searches, and has enriched those domains with a number 
 of valuable contributions. To him also I am indebted for 
 much interesting information. Mr. William Ferguson is 
 not to be confounded with his totally dissimilar brother, 
 the so-called “ Ceylon Commissioner,” the editor and pub- 
 lisher of the most influential newspaper on the island, the 
 Ceylon Observer. This sheet is edited in that spirit of 
 stern orthodoxy and intolerant bigotry which unfortu- 
 nately distinguishes so many of the pretended “liberal” 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 63 
 
 English newspapers. At the time of my visit in Colombo 
 the columns of the Observer were filled with a vigorous on- 
 slaught on a most meritorious and well-informed jurist, 
 Mr. Berwick,- a district judge, because he in one of his 
 arguments had acknowledged and cleverly applied the 
 Darwinian tenets of modern natural philosophy. The 
 specific piety, however, of the “ Ceylon Commissioner” 
 did not hinder him from selling a faulty and unreliable 
 map of the coffee district for eighteen rupees! 
 
 I accompanied Mr. Green to the Colombo Museum, an 
 imposing two-storied building which stands in the Cinna- 
 mon Gardens, and contains collections of the literary, his- 
 torical, and natural curiosities of the island. The lower 
 story is occupied on one side by a valuable library, on the 
 other are relics of antiquity: ancient inscriptions, sculp- 
 tures, coins, ethnographic collections, etc. In the upper 
 story is a rich collection of natural curiosities, principally 
 dried and stuffed animals, exclusively Ceylonese. The in- 
 sect family is especially rich in its representation — particu- 
 larly those orders which Dr. Haly, the director of the 
 museum, has made a special study. There is also a fine dis- 
 play of birds and reptiles, but in most divisions of the 
 lower animal kingdom much still remains to be supplied- 
 However, the exhibition of fauna peculiar to the island is 
 very creditable, but the zoologist direct from Europe will 
 find many of the specimens in a rather unsatisfactory con- 
 dition. . Many of the stuffed animals are badly prepared, 
 mouldy, decayed, etc. But criticism of these faults will 
 come only from the novice who is unfamiliar with the ex- 
 traordinary difficulties which attend the preservation of 
 such collections in the moist, hot-house climate of Ceylon. 
 Bitter experience later convinced me of this fact. If in a 
 perpetual heat of 20-25° R., and a moist atmosj)here that 
 surpasses the European conception of dampness, iron and 
 steel rust in spite of every precaution; and leather and 
 paper mould in a very short time, it is natural to suppose 
 that the chitinous frames of insects as well as the skins of 
 animals will sooner or later succumb to decay. Various 
 insects also are as destructive as the heat and moisture: 
 black and red ants (some of them two and three times as 
 large as those at home, and some almost microscopic in 
 size); white ants or termites (the worst of all insect 
 
64 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 enemies); giant cockroaches (Blatter), paper-lice ( Psocus ), 
 wood-lice, and other vermin vie with each other in destroy- 
 ing a collection. Indeed it is almost impossible to protect 
 anything destructible from the ceaseless attacks of these 
 diminutive foes; in spite of every precaution I lost a large 
 part of the collections I made while in Ceylon. 
 
 The first days of astonishment and admiration past, 
 I began to unpack the thousand and one things in 
 my trunks and boxes — and in what a condition I found 
 most of them! Every particle of iron and steel about the 
 scientific instruments was covered with rust; none of the 
 screws would budge; every book, every bit of paper, as 
 well as every article of leather, was damp and covered with 
 mould. But what grieved me most was the condition in 
 which I found my precious “dress-coat” — a garment that 
 plays as important a role in English society here as at 
 home in Europe. When I took it from the trunk I 
 scarcely recognized it; it had completely changed color, 
 and was, like all the rest of my wearing apparel, orna- 
 mented with landscapes executed in green and white 
 mould! These vanished only after the garments had been 
 aired and sunned for several days. Such a condition of 
 affairs renders it absolutely necessary for every European 
 household in Ceylon to employ a “clothes-boy,” whose 
 sole duty it is to prevent, by constant airing and sunning, 
 the mould from accumulating on wearing apparel, house- 
 hold linen, paper, etc. The brand new photographic 
 camera obscura, which I had purchased from a reliable 
 house in Berlin, and which had been “warranted” made 
 of “perfectly dry wood,” was found on unpacking to be 
 utterly useless , r the wood was warped and twisted out of all 
 shape, as were even the lids of my wooden boxes. The 
 gummed envelops of which I had brought a supply were 
 securely sealed; a box of pulverized gum-arabic had be- 
 come a mass of solid cement, while a second box that I had 
 filled with medicinal lozenges before leaving home con- 
 tained a thick syrup strongly flavored with peppermint. 
 Still more astonishing was the opening of a box of effer- 
 vescent powders; the tartaric acid had vanished from the 
 blue papers, while the white wrappers contained only some 
 carbonate of soda instead of the original carbonic acid! 
 This is what happened to me in Ceylon in the “ dry sea- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 65 
 
 son,” from November to April; what must it be in the 
 season called “wet” when, from May until October, the 
 rain-teeming south-west monsoon prevails? My friends as- 
 sured me that no one pretended to keep anything dry in the 
 rainy season, and that the water ran down the walls. 
 
 That such a forcing-house temperature should uncom- 
 fortably affect the human organism accustomed to the 
 totally different climate of Central Europe is very natural, 
 also that the struggle with this inimical climate is the daily 
 subject of conversation. I must confess that I was at a 
 loss how to adapt myself to it. The first weeks in Colombo 
 I found the annoyances and inconveniences almost unen- 
 durable, especially during the hot nights, when the tem- 
 perature rarely fell below 20° R., while during the day it 
 frequently rose in the shade to 24° and 28°. However the 
 second week was not so disagreeable as the first, and later, 
 even on the south coast near the fifth degree of south latitude, 
 I never suffered as much as during the first sleepless nights 
 and enervating days in Colombo. Under these conditions 
 the daily bath becomes an indispensable luxury. I generally 
 refreshed myself with three, one directly after rising in the 
 morning about six o’clock, a second before the so-called 
 “breakfast” at midday, and a third before dinner, about 
 seven o’clock. I likewise adopted the peculiar dress worn 
 by the Europeans in the tropics: garments made of the 
 lightest cotton material, and a Calcutta or sola hat — an 
 extremely light and comfortable covering for the head, 
 made of the pith of the sola plant. 
 
 After adopting this costume, and strictly observing other 
 precautionary regulations, which in the tropics are ab- 
 solutely necessary for the preservation of health, I got on 
 very comfortably, and was perfectly well during the entire 
 time of my sojourn on the island, although — and perhaps 
 too because I did so — I exercised every day, even during 
 the hot hours of noon. Of course I lived more simply and 
 abstemiously than is the custom here; I did not eat half 
 the quantity of food, or drink half the amount the English 
 resident considers necessary for his comfort. If these peo- 
 ple, after a few years’ sojourn in the tropics, complain of 
 diseases of the liver and stomach, then the blame, accord- 
 ing to my thinking, may be laid more to the want of proper 
 exercise and the inordinate consumption of dainties than 
 
66 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 to the hot climate. Frequently they eat and drink three 
 times as much, and of the richest food and hottest spiritu- 
 ous liquors, as is necessary for health. In this particular 
 the habits of the English resident form a most decided con- 
 trast to those of the native, which are extremely simple; 
 the food of the latter is chiefly rice and curry and several 
 fruits, while his beverage is simply water, or at most palm 
 wine. 
 
 In Ceylon, as in most parts of British India, the 
 Europeans take their meals as follows: Mornings, directly 
 after they arise, tea and biscuits, bread, eggs, marmalade, 
 and fruits. At ten o’clock a breakfast that with us would 
 be a complete dinner. The third meal “ tiffin” follows at 
 one o’clock. Many persons serve coffee and tea at three or 
 four o’clock. At half past seven or eight, dinner — the 
 principal meal — is served. Different wines accompany this 
 meal, sherry, claret, champagne, and sometimes stronger 
 liquors or beer which has been imported from England. 
 Lately a better and lighter malt liquor from Vienna has 
 taken the place of the English beer. In many houses one 
 or two of these meals is dispensed with; but, as a general 
 thing, the life of the foreigner in India is entirely too 
 luxurious, especially when it is compared with the frugal 
 habits of Southern Europe. This is also the opinion of 
 several of the older English residents in Ceylon who lead 
 simpler lives, and who, after an unbroken residence in the 
 tropics of twenty or thirty years, still enjoy perfect health, 
 as, for instance, Dr. Thwaites, the former excellent director 
 of the Botanic Garden at Parcedenia. 
 
 V. 
 
 Kaduwella. 
 
 The many delightful experiences and noble impressions 
 of my first week in Ceylon were crowned by a memorable 
 excursion, in company with my friends, on the 27th of 
 November, to Kaduwella. It was my first Sunday on the 
 island, and, although the manifold enjoyments of the past 
 week-days made every one of them seem a holiday, my 
 festal mood attained its highest pitch on this my first ex- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 67 
 
 tended tour into the more distant surroundings of Colombo, 
 and, as the scenery of this part is essentially the same as 
 that of the whole south west coast-land, I will attempt just 
 here to give you a brief description of it. 
 
 Kaduwella is a strictly Singhalese village on the south 
 bank of the Kalany River, ten English miles from Whist 
 Bungalow. The excellent carriage road (which continues 
 further to Awisawella and Fort Ruanwelle) now skirts the 
 wooded banks of the Kalany, now crosses the country in 
 wide detours to avoid the numerous windings of the riyer. 
 Like all the carriage roads on the island this one is in 
 perfect repair, a fact that is all the more deserving of 
 praise when you remember that the violent and copious 
 rains frequently wash out long stretches of the road, and 
 render it an extremely difficult matter to maintain a high- 
 way in such excellent condition. But the English Govern- 
 ment justly recognizes the importance of constructing and 
 maintaining perfect media of communication in Ceylon as 
 well as all the rest of her colonies; and it speaks yolumes for 
 her unequalled talent for colonization that, in order to ac- 
 complish her purpose — even in the face of almost insuper- 
 able difficulties — she spares neither expense nor labor. 
 
 My hosts from Whist Bungalow' and several other Ger- 
 man countrymen, who were living at the neighboring Elie 
 House (once occupied by Sir Emerson Tennent), had made 
 all the necessary arrangements for the gastronomic success 
 of our excursion. All the solids and fluids requisite for an 
 opulent breakfast a la fourchette , together with the fire- 
 arms, ammunition, bottles, and tin-cases for my collections, 
 etc., were packed in small, open caleshes drawn by a brisk 
 Burmese pony, or else a stronger Australian horse. Almost 
 all the carriage and riding horses are imported from the 
 mainland of India, or from Australia, as the practice of 
 breeding horses is not successful in Ceylon. European 
 horses, being unable to endure the climate, soon become 
 useless. The little ponies from Burmah travel excellently 
 well, although their powers of endurance are by no means 
 great, ten miles (two or three hours) being sufficient to tire 
 them out. The coachmen are usually Tamils clad in white 
 jackets with red turbans; they display an astonishing 
 amount of endurance as they run behind the calesh, or 
 stand sideways on the step; they are obliged to keep up a 
 
68 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 continual hallooing, as the Singhalese (especially the aged 
 people), together with their oxen and dogs, seem to have a 
 decided predilection for being run oyer by a swiftly-travel- 
 ing carriage* 
 
 The sun was not yet up when we drove away from Whist 
 Bungalow, through the suburb of Mutwal and the contigu- 
 ous grand pass, out into the smiling garden-land which, 
 alternated by jungle, rice-fields, and meadows, stretches for 
 miles to the foot of the mountains. The suburbs of Co- 
 lombo, like those of all the cities on the island, extend im- 
 perceptibly, frequently for miles, into straggling villages 
 along the road; and as each native hut is surrounded by a 
 garden, a field, or a bit of woodland, it is often difficult to 
 clearly define the limits of the separate villages. In the 
 densely populated and richly cultivated portions of the flat 
 coast-land there is no perceptible interruption, and one 
 may say that the entire stretch of coast from Colombo to 
 Matura, — the most southerly point of the island,— is occu- 
 pied by a single, long village, interspersed with fruit-gar- 
 dens, jungle, and . cocoa-forest. Everywhere the same 
 rustic elements characterize these paradisal gardens: pic- 
 turesque brown earth-huts shaded by bread-fruit and mango 
 trees, by cocoa and areca palms, garlanded by pisang hedges, 
 ornamented with the gigantic foliage of the caladium and 
 ricinus, the elegant papaya trees, manihot shrubs, and 
 other useful plants. 
 
 On benches in front of the open huts the indolent 
 Singhalese is stretched out in dreamy dolce far niente , en- 
 gaged in lazily surveying his ever-green environments, or 
 in leisurely searching for the tiny insect that infests the 
 long black hair of his head. Naked children are playing 
 everywhere, darting after the gaudy butterflies and lizards 
 that animate the scene. At certain hours of the day num- 
 bers of ox-carts, single and double, are to be seen on the 
 much-frequented road; these conveyances form the chief, 
 indeed almost the only, means of transport and communica- 
 tion for the native population. The oxen belong to the zebu 
 or Indian humped bison ( Bos indicus) family, and are 
 distinguished by a fleshy protuberance or hump on the 
 shoulders. Like the bovine genera of Europe, the zebu 
 family of India has many species; some of them — a dimin- 
 utive species — are very swift and agile. Horses are rarely 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 69 
 
 used by the natives, and asses are unknown to the island. 
 Around the huts, everywhere, are large numbers of dogs 
 (here called “pariah dogs”), all of the same species, ugly, 
 bristly, brownish-yellow creatures, whose form, color, and 
 disposition betray their jackal origin. Numbers of small, 
 black hogs (Sus indicus) are also to be found everywhere; 
 also long-legged lean goats; sheep are more rarely seen. 
 There are numbers of chickens around the huts, but very 
 few ducks and geese. These are the simple, ever-recurring 
 elements which compose the village scenery of the whole 
 south-west coast of Ceylon. But there is such a delicious 
 naturalness about the simple components, they are grouped 
 with such charming disregard for order and regularity and 
 are of such infinite variety, they are illumined and tinted 
 by the radiant tropical sunshine, the near seashore or 
 river bank lends them fresh attractions, the background of 
 forest, or distant mountain land, so much poetry, that one 
 never tires admiring them, or thinking that the landscape 
 and genre painter might here find a boundless wealth of 
 exquisite subjects — subjects that are almost unknown to 
 the art-exhibitions of the present. 
 
 A peculiarly charming effect of this Ceylonese coast 
 landscape is the middle point which it seems to occupy 
 between garden and forest scenery, between nature and 
 cultivation. Often one imagines one’s self in the midst of 
 the most savage forest, encompassed by tall magnificent 
 trees festooned and overgrown with lianas of all sorts. 
 But a hut that lies quite in the shadow of a bread-fruit 
 tree, a dog or a pig emerging from the bushes, playing- 
 children hiding under caladium leaves, tell us that we are 
 only in a Ceylonese garden. On the other hand, the actual 
 forest contiguous to the garden, with its multifarious com- 
 binations of the most different trees, its, orchids, spice 
 lilies, hibiscus, and other showy flowering plants, offers 
 such a variety that we readily believe ourselves in a beauti- 
 ful garden. This peculiar harmony between nature and 
 cultivation is also expressed by the human life that ani- 
 mates these forest-gardens; the clothing and habitations of 
 the Singhalese are of such primitive simplicity that the 
 familiar descriptions of “genuine savages” might truth- 
 fully be applied to them, although they are descended from 
 an ancient and cultured people. 
 
70 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 All this is doubly attractive and picturesque in the early 
 morning, when the rays of the sun are just beginning to 
 peer through the interstices of the dewy foliage, when they 
 cast long-drawn shadows of the slender stems and feathered 
 crowns of the palms, and fling thousands of sparkling 
 gems over the cloven leaves of the pisang. 
 
 During the time of my visit, at the period of the south- 
 west monsoon, the morning hours were unfailingly clear 
 and cloudless, and always refreshed by a deliciously cool 
 and invigorating breeze from the sea, although the ther- 
 mometer usually registered 20° R., rarely less than 18°. At 
 nine or ten o’clock the heat increased and became oppres- 
 sive; the sky was overcast by heavy storm clouds, which 
 towards midday discharged copious showers. If these 
 ceased by four or five o’clock then the evening was most 
 delightful — especially if the setting sun flooded the clouds 
 in the western sky with a radiance that defies all descrip- 
 tion. This year the rains were not as regular as in past 
 years; there were also other exceptions to the general rule. 
 On the whole, however, my excursions were usually favored 
 by pleasant weather, and but few of my plans were frus- 
 trated by long-continued rains. 
 
 After a two hours’ very interesting ride we arrived at the 
 village of Kaduwella, which is picturesquely situated in a 
 wide sweep of the Kalany Eiver. Especially charming is 
 the situation of the rest-house, under the shade of the 
 most beautiful trees, on an eminence overlooking the river, 
 at which we alighted and put up our ponies. Rest-house is 
 the name given to the houses which the government, in 
 the absence of hotels, has erected in Ceylon and India for the 
 convenience of travelers, and which are under its control 
 and management. In all Ceylon there are but three cities 
 that can boast of a hotel: Colombo, G-alle, and Kandy. The 
 native does not require such houses of entertainment, con- 
 sequently the foreign traveler is entirely dependent either 
 on the hospitality of the European colonists (where there 
 are such) or on the government rest-houses, which truly 
 sypply a most urgent need. The rest-house keeper, who is 
 employed by the government, is obliged to furnish the trav- 
 eler (for a small sum — usually a rupee — that is paid 
 over to the government) with a room and a bed, as well as 
 necessary food. Price and quality of the latter vary con- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 71 
 
 siderably, as also the condition of the rest-houses them- 
 selves. 
 
 In the south-western parts of Ceylon, where I spent 
 most of my time, I found them generally good and very 
 comfortable — particularly at Belligam, where I set up my 
 laboratory in the rest-house for six weeks. But the reverse 
 of good may be said of most of these government lodging- 
 houses in many parts of the interior: in the northern and 
 eastern parts of the island their accommodations are both 
 inferior and expensive, as, for instance, in Neuera Ellia, 
 where I had to pay for an egg a half, and for a cup of tea, 
 a whole shilling. The rest-house at Kaduwella is one of 
 the smaller and less pretentious lodging-houses, and as we 
 bad brought with us our own provisions, we required noth- 
 ing from it but some chairs to sit on, water and fire to 
 prepare our meal, and permission to eat it on the airy ver- 
 anda, whose sheltering roof would protect us from the 
 sun and rain, for all of which we were taxed accord- 
 
 ingly- 
 
 In India nothing but death is gratuitous! 
 
 Shortly after our arrival we shouldered our guns and 
 started out to take advantage of the beautiful morning. 
 Behind the village, and to the south of the Kalanv River, is 
 a stretch of undulating country, over which our hunting 
 party dispersed itself. The lower portions of this territory 
 are covered with grass meadows and rice fields, intersected 
 by numerous drains and canals, and adorned by miniature 
 lakes, into which the latter empty. The elevations, gently- 
 sloping hills from one to two hundred feet high, are 
 clothed with dense jungle — and here I made my first ac- 
 quaintance with this characteristic form of the landscape 
 which on the whole island, wdrerever there is no cultiva- 
 tion, plays so important a part. The jungle cannot justly 
 be called a “primeval forest/ 5 that is a region untrod- 
 den by the foot of man (in Ceylon such tracts are of small 
 extent and rare occurrence); but it corresponds with our 
 ideas of a primitive forest in that it, by its higher develop- 
 ment, represents a forest form that is composed of a dense 
 and impenetrable tangle of the most diverse varieties of 
 trees. These have shot upward with a total disregard for 
 regularity, unrestrained by human influence, and are so 
 thickly overgrown with multitudes of creepers and climb- 
 
72 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 ing ferns, orchids, and other parasites, that it is quite 
 impossible to disentangle the closely interwoven forms. 
 That such a jungle, perfect in all its parts, is really impen- 
 etrable, unaided by fire and axe, my first attempt to enter 
 it convinced me. A good hour’s work enabled me to ad- 
 vance but a few steps into the thicket; then, utterly dis- 
 comfited, I desisted from further attempt. I was stung by 
 mosquitoes, bitten by ants, with torn clothing, bleeding 
 arms and legs, wounded by the thousands of sharp thorns 
 with which the calamus, hibiscus, euphorbias, lantanas, 
 and a host of other jungle plants repulse every effort to 
 penetrate their mysterious labyrinth. But my vain at- 
 tempt was not entirely without reward. I not only became 
 thoroughly familiar with the character of a jungle, with its 
 splendid trees and lianas, I also beheld many new vegetable 
 and animal forms that were of the greatest interest to me. 
 I saw the magnificent Gloriosa superba — the poisonous 
 climbing lily of Ceylon — with its red-gold chalices; the 
 prickly Hibiscus radiatus , with huge sulphur-colored 
 flower-cups, and hovering over them gigantic black butter- 
 flies with blood-red spots on their tail-shaped wing-appen- 
 dages, and beetles that gleamed with a metallic lustre in the 
 sunlight. But what delighted me most was, that on my 
 first introduction to a Ceylon jungle I should also become 
 acquainted with two of its most characteristic inhabitants 
 — members of the highest animal class: apes and parrots. 
 A flock of green parrots flew screaming from a tall tree that 
 towered above the jungle when they saw my gun; and at 
 the same time a number of large black apes fled chattering 
 into the thicket. I did not succeed in getting a shot at 
 either the former or the latter — they were evidently too fa- 
 miliar with the deadly effects of fire-arms. However, I 
 Was consoled by the fact that my first shot secured for me 
 a colossal lizard, or iguana, over six feet long. This is the 
 remarkable Hydrosaurus salvator , an animal much feared 
 by the superstitious natives. The huge, crocodile-like 
 beast was sunning himself on the edge of a ditch, and the 
 first shot was so happily aimed at his head that instant 
 death was the result; if the ball strikes a less vital part of 
 the body the beast, which is very tenacious of life, will 
 dart hastily into the water and disappear; with their pow- 
 erful scaly tails they can defend themselves so effectively 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 73 
 
 that a blow from them frequently causes serious wounds, 
 sometimes even a broken limb. 
 
 After we had waded several ditches, and rambled some 
 distance through a pleasant grove, we ascended a hill on 
 which is a famous Buddhist temple, the object of numerous 
 pilgrimages. We passed several groups of huts, which, 
 half-hidden in the dense shade of mighty trees (termina- 
 lia and laurels), looked like so many toy-houses. Further 
 on we crossed a sunny clearing, in which gorgeous butter- 
 flies and birds were flying about in great numbers, particu- 
 larly woodpeckers and wild pigeons. At length a flight of 
 steps between talipot palms led us up to the temple, which 
 is in a rarely picturesque nook in the middle of a tall grove 
 and under the shelter of a huge granite rock. A wide 
 grotto that has evidently been enlarged by artificial means 
 extends some distance beneath the overhanging mass of 
 granite. The pillared hall of the temple is built into the 
 grotto in such a manner that the naked rock not only 
 forms the rear wall, but the material for the colossal 
 image of the recumbent Buddha. The figure of the god 
 is the same in all the Buddhist temples I visited while in 
 Ceylon, as are also the monotonous paintings on the walls, 
 which, in the interior of the temple, represent scenes from 
 the earthly life of Buddha. These works of art, with their 
 stiff, angular lines, and simple, harsh colors (principally 
 yellow, brown, and red), remind one of the ancient Egyp- 
 tian wall-paintings, although they differ materially in the 
 details. The prostrate figure of Buddha, which rests on 
 the right arm, and is enveloped in a yellow vestment, al- 
 ways exhibits the same staring and rigid expression, that 
 reminds one of the forced smiles on the faces of the ancient 
 iEginetan statues. Beside most of the Buddha temples is 
 a dagoba, a bell-shaped dome without any opening, that is 
 said to contain a relic of the god. The dagobas vary 
 greatly in size, from that of a large church-bell to the cir- 
 cumference of the dome on St. Peter’s at Rome. Near 
 the dagoba there is usually a large ancient Bo-tree, or sa- 
 cred fig tree ( Ficus religiosa). In many parts of Ceylon 
 these “ Buddha trees,” with their powerful trunks, fantas- 
 tically interlaced roots, and huge crowns of foliage, form 
 the most attractive features in the picturesque environs of 
 the temples. The heart-shaped leaves on their long slender 
 
74 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 stems quiver like the foliage of our northern trembling 
 aspen. A flight of granite steps behind the temple leads to 
 the upper surface of the rock, from whence may be had a 
 fine view of the neighboring hills and across the plain to 
 the river. Palms and bananas adorn the immediate sur- 
 roundings of the temple, and behind them an impenetrable 
 thicket with lianas of all sorts forms a mystical back- 
 ground that fitly corresponds with the sanctity of the holy 
 place. In front of the temple, on a rock beside the steps, 
 crouched an old bald-headed priest in a yellow gown, and 
 while I made a hasty sketch of him a Singhalese lad 
 climbed a cocoa tree near, and fetched me one of its golden 
 nuts; I found the sweetish, slightly acid water it contained 
 a most refreshing drink for the hot noonday. 
 
 We returned to Kaduwella through a different part of 
 the forest, and saw a number of new insects, birds, and 
 plants; among the latter the celebrated teak tree ( Tectonia 
 grandis), as well as gigantic specimens of the cactus- 
 formed wolfs-milk (Euphorbia antiquorum ), with bare, 
 blue-green prismatic branches. The latter part of our 
 route, through swampy meadows, was so excessively hfft 
 that our first act on arriving at the rest-house was a plunge 
 in the river — a delicious refreshment that gave the merry 
 breakfast which followed a keener relish. 
 
 In the afternoon I rowed across the river to the thicket 
 on the opposite bank, and found a number of plant-forms 
 hitherto unknown to me — namely, Aroidece and Cannacece. 
 Along the banks of the river itself elegant bamboos alter- 
 nating with terminalia, cedars, and mangroves, form the 
 prevailing character of the forest. 
 
 It was late in the evening when, richly laden with zoo- 
 logical, botanical, and art treasures, we returned to Co- 
 lombo. Afterwards I spent many more pleasant days in 
 the jungles and along the river banks of Ceylon (a£d 
 some of them were more beautiful than the banks at Kadu- 
 wella); but, as so often in life, the first impressions of new 
 and strange objects are far more enduring, and not to be 
 eclipsed by later superior attractions; consequently, the 
 first day in the jungle of Kaduwella will ever remain a 
 memorable event of my life. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 75 
 
 VI. 
 
 Paredekia. 
 
 Ik the central province of Ceylon, 1500 feet above the 
 sea, lies the former capital of the island, the celebrated 
 city of Kandy, and but a few miles distant from it Pare- 
 denia, a small town that for a brief season, five hundred 
 years ago, likewise enjoyed the honor of being the regal 
 residence of an ancient king. Here, in 1819, the English 
 Government established a botanic garden, and entrusted 
 Dr. Gardner with its management. His successor, Dr. 
 Thwaites, the learned author of an excellent “ I lor a Cey - 
 lonica ,” for thirty years did everything in his power to 
 raise the garden to a standard that would correspond with 
 its peculiar climatic and local advantages. On his retire- 
 ment, a few years ago, Dr. Henry Trimen was appointed 
 director of the garden, and from this gentleman I received 
 a cordial invitation to visit Paredenia. I accepted the kind 
 invitation all the more readily, because I had already in 
 Europe heard and read a great deal about the splendid col- 
 lection of rare plants in the Botanic Garden of Paredenia, 
 and my great expectations were not disappointed. If Cey- 
 lon is in truth a paradise for the botanist, as well as for 
 every plant-friend, then Paredenia may justly be termed 
 the heart of this botanical Eden. 
 
 Paredenia and Kandy are connected by a railway (the 
 first in Ceylon) with Colombo, and the time necessary for a 
 journey between the two termini is from four to five hours. 
 At seven o’clock in the morning on the 4th of December 
 I started from the Central Station in Colombo, and was in 
 Paredenia by eleven o’clock. Like all true Europeans in 
 Ceylon I had to travel first class (“ couleur Handle oblige”). 
 Only the yellow and brown “burghers and half-castes” 
 travel in the second-class carriages, while those of the 
 third class are occupied solely by the natives — the brown 
 Singhalese and black Tamils. I was surprised not to find 
 a fourth-class carriage for the latter, and a fifth for the 
 despised “low castes.” The natives, by the way, are very 
 fond of railway travel, the only amusement on which they 
 willingly expend much money. From the opening of the 
 line to the present day many of the natives daily ride up 
 
76 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 and down the wonderful road, merely for the pleasure it 
 gives them. The carriages are light and airy; those of the 
 first class are furnished with excellent protection against 
 the hot climate. The conductors and the white-clad, hel- 
 meted guards are English. Excellent order and punctu- 
 ality reign here, as on all the lines managed by the British 
 Government. 
 
 The first part of the journey from Colombo to Paredenia 
 is across flat country, mostly covered with swampy jungle, 
 alternated with rice fields and marshes. In the latter 
 lie numbers of buffaloes, their black bodies half sub- 
 merged in the water, while snowy herons carefully pick the 
 insects from them. Farther on the line approaches the 
 mountains, and at Rambukkana the ascent begins. The 
 hours journey between this station and the one following, 
 Kadugannava, is, as far as scenery is concerned, one of the 
 most beautiful I have ever enjoyed. The line with many 
 curves winds upward from the wide trough of the valley 
 along the steep northern face of a rocky declivity. At first 
 the eye is attracted by the manifold changes in the scenery 
 of the immediate foreground; mighty blocks of gray gneiss 
 rise above the exuberant masses of verdure which fill the 
 narrow ravines on either side; lianas of most exquisite 
 form hang from the tops of tall trees; charming little cas- 
 cades leap merrily from points high above us; and, in the 
 vicinity of the railway, we occasionally see the excellent 
 public road, now so rarely used and once so frequently tra- 
 versed, which the British Government built from Colombo 
 to Kandy, and which only her enduring sway over the lat- 
 ter made feasible. Farther on the glance roves from the 
 broad green valley expanding at our feet to the lofty 
 mountain chain rising on the other side. Although the 
 configuration of the highland mountains is, upon the 
 whole, uniform, and not especially interesting (chiefly 
 truncated cones of granite or gneiss), yet there are isolated 
 peaks here and there which obtrude themselves on one’s 
 notice — as, for instance, the peculiar mass which bears the 
 name of “ Bible Rock.” One of the grandest sights is 
 obtained from “Sensation Rock,” where the line, which 
 has passed through several tunnels, beneath overhanging 
 rocks, runs close to the very edge of a precipice that has a 
 sheer descent of 1200-1400 feet. Roaring cascades leap 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 77 
 
 from the rocky wall overhead, and dashing under the 
 bridges of the line are transformed into veils of mist, be- 
 spangled with every tint of the rainbow, before they reach 
 the emerald depths below. 
 
 The valley at our feet is covered partly with jungle and 
 partly by cultivated land, over which are scattered numer- 
 ous huts, gardens, and terraced rice fields. Everywhere 
 above the lower shrubbery tower the giant stems of the 
 mighty Palmyra palms ( Cory pha umbraculifera ), the proud 
 queen among the palms of Ceylon. Its perfectly upright 
 stem resembles a slender white marble column, and fre- 
 quently grows to a height of over one hundred feet. Every 
 one of the fan-shaped leaves composing the ponderous 
 crown would cover a half-circular space sixteen feet in 
 diameter — a superficial area of two hundred square feet; 
 they, like every part of the tree, are used for various pur- 
 poses, principally for thatching; they are specially cele- 
 brated, however, for their being formerly employed by the 
 Singhalese as a substitute for paper, and are still used as 
 such for many purposes. The ancient “ Puskola” manu- 
 scripts in the Buddha monasteries were written with an 
 iron style on “ola” paper — narrow strips of talipot leaves 
 boiled in water and dried. The talipot blooms but once 
 during its life, usually between its fiftieth and eightieth 
 years. The stately pyramid of bloom in the centre of the 
 leaf-crown frequently reaches a length of thirty or forty 
 feet, and is composed of millions of small creamy blossoms; 
 when the nuts have ripened the tree dies. I was fortu- 
 nately favored with the rare sight of an unusual number of 
 talipot palms in bloom; between Kambukkana and Kadu- 
 gannava I counted over sixty, and along the entire line over 
 one hundred. Numerous excursions were made from Co- 
 lombo to view the magnificent spectacle. 
 
 On the pass of Kadugannava, nearly 2000 feet above the 
 sea, the railway as well as the neighboring public road 
 reach their highest point; a monument commemorating 
 the services of Captain Dawson, builder of the latter road, 
 has been erected here. This pass is also a watershed. The 
 numerous streams we saw threading the green velvet valley 
 like so many strands of silver, flow either into the Kalany- 
 ganga or the Maha-oya, both of which debouch on the sea 
 from the west coast. Those streams on the eastern slope 
 
78 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 of the Kadugannava flow into the Mahawelli-ganga, the 
 largest river on the island, which is 134 miles long, and 
 flows into the sea from the east coast at Trincomalie. 
 Along the banks of the latter stream, beside which extend 
 plantations of sugar-cane, the train brought us in a quarter 
 of an hour to Paredenia, the last station before Kandy. 
 When, at eleven o’clock, I arrived at Paredenia I found Dr. 
 Trimen awaiting me; after a cordial welcome he drove me 
 in his carriage to the Botanic Garden, a mile distant from 
 the railway station. Just before reaching the Garden, we 
 crossed the foaming river on a beautiful bridge of satin- 
 wood, with a single span of two hundred feet. When the 
 water is at its usual level, the highest point of this span is 
 seventy feet above the river; and some idea may be formed 
 of the enormous bulk of water that surcharges the rivers 
 of Ceylon after a heavy rain, when one learns that during 
 these periods the bridge is but from ten to twenty feet 
 above the flood — the water having risen from fifty to sixty 
 feet. 
 
 The entrance to the garden is through, an avenue of 
 noble india-rubber trees ( Ficus elastica). This is the tree 
 whose inspissated milk-sap forms the caoutchouc of com- 
 merce, and whose young plants are frequently seen in the 
 greenhouses of our rugged north. While these india-rub- 
 ber plants with us are objects of admiration when their 
 slender stems grow to the height of the ceiling, and their 
 few branches bear from fifty to one hundred leathery, egg- 
 shaped leaves, here in their hot mother-country they de- 
 velop into gigantic trees of the highest rank, and rival our 
 proudest European oaks. The immense crown of many 
 thousands of leaves covers with its mighty branches (40- 
 50 feet long) the superficial surface of a stately palace, 
 while from the base of the thick trunk extends a net-work 
 of roots that frequently measures from one hundred to two 
 hundred feet in diameter — far more than the height of the 
 tree itself. This astounding root-crown consists mostly of 
 twenty or thirty main roots, from each of which branch as 
 many more — all of them curving and twisting over the 
 ground like so many gigantic serpents, for which reason 
 the Singhalese call it the “snake-tree,” and poets at vari- 
 ous times have likened it to the snake-entwined Laocoon. 
 The spaces between the roots form veritable closets or sen- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 79 
 
 try boxes, in some of which a man standing upright may 
 effectually conceal himself. Similar root-columns are de- 
 veloped by other large trees of different orders. 
 
 Scarcely had I expressed my admiration for this avenue 
 of snake-trees, when my eyes were enchained by another 
 wonderful sight near the garden gate. There, as if to 
 greet the new-comer, stood a huge bouquet of palms, com- 
 posed of those species indigenous to the island, and a num- 
 ber of foreign representatives of this noblest of tropical 
 families; garlands of lovely creepers festooned their crowns, 
 while their stems were ornamented with the most exquisite 
 parasitic ferns. A similar but handsomer and more ex- 
 tensive group stands near the end of the main alley, and 
 is encircled by a lovely wreath of flowering plants. Here 
 the alley branched, the path on the left leading to a slight 
 eminence on which stands the bungalow of the director. 
 This enviable home is, like most Ceylonese villas, a low, 
 one-storied structure, encircled by an airy veranda whose 
 wide, projecting roof is supported by a row of white pil- 
 lars. Eoof and pillars are adorned with luxurious vines, 
 large-flowered orchids, odorous vanilla, showy fuchsias, 
 and other bright flowers; choice collections of flowering 
 plants and ferns embellish the garden beds which surround 
 the house, and above them rise the shade-dispensing crowns 
 of India’s noblest trees. Numerous gorgeous butterflies 
 and beetles, lizards and birds animate this charming pic- 
 ture. 
 
 As the villa stands on the highest eminence in the gar- 
 den, and the broad, velvety lawn slopes away from it on 
 every side, the view from the veranda embraces a large por- 
 tion of the garden with several of its most attractive tree- 
 groups, and the belt of tall forest trees which encloses the 
 meadow land. Beyond them rise the wooded summits of 
 the mountain chain which encircles Paredenia valley. 
 
 The Mahawelli-ganga flows in a wide, semi-circular 
 sweep around the garden, and separates it from yonder 
 chain of hills; consequently it lies on a horseshoe-shaped 
 peninsula whose land side, where it adjoins the Kandyan 
 valley, is effectually protected by a tall, impenetrable hedge 
 of bamboo, thorny rattan, and other equally formidable 
 plants. As the climate (at 1500 feet above sea level) is 
 extraordinarily favorable, and the tropical heat of the shel- 
 
80 
 
 INDIA AND GETLON. * 
 
 tered valley, in conjunction with the copious rains which 
 fall in the neighboring mountains, transform the Paredenia 
 Garden into a natural forcing-house, it will be readily un- 
 derstood that the tropical flora here develops her wonderful 
 productive power in the highest degree. My first ramble 
 through the garden, in company with the well-informed 
 director, convinced me that this was indeed the case; and 
 although I had read and heard so much about the wonder- 
 ful attractions of the exuberant tropical vegetation, had 
 longed for so many years to behold it with my own eyes, 
 the actual reality, the actual enjoyment of the fabled 
 glories, far surpassed my highest expectations, and that, 
 too, after I had been prepared by what I had seen in Bom- 
 bay and Colombo. In the four days I spent at Paredenia 
 I gained more information concerning the life and habits 
 of the plant world than I could have acquired at home in 
 as many months by the most diligent botanical study. 
 And when, two months later, I returned to the garden for 
 a farewell visit, my delight was as great as when I first 
 beheld its manifold attractions. I cannot adequately ex- 
 press my gratitude for the courteous hospitality and wealth 
 of information I received from my good friend, Dr. Trimen; 
 the seven days in his enchanting bungalow were, for me, 
 seven veritable days of creation! 
 
 At the time of my visit in Paredenia there was also an- 
 other English botanist there — Dr. Marshall Ward— who 
 had finished his studies in Germany, and whose official 
 title was “Royal Cryptogamist.” He had been sent here 
 by the English Government to investigate the “coffee-leaf 
 disease” — the formidable fungus disease of the leaves of 
 the coffee tree, which for years has been ravaging with in- 
 creasing violence on the coffee plantations, destroying large 
 numbers of this most valuable plant, and a most profitable 
 source of revenue to the national treasury. Dr. Ward has 
 made a number of important observations and experimental 
 investigations of the disease, and has fully elaborated the 
 natural history of the microscopic, rust-like fungus ( Hemi - 
 leja vastatrix)-, but he was unfortunately unable to dis- 
 cover a radical cure for it. In gratitude for his wearisome 
 labors he is sharply assailed by the press — especially by 
 many of the coffee planters! As if the hundreds of natu- 
 ralists in Europe, who are engaged in studying similar 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 81 
 
 fungus epidemics, always succeeded in finding a remedy for 
 a disease directly they became familiar with its character! 
 Such is rarely the case; and among the many absurd opin- 
 ions which are daily promulgated in our “cultured cir- 
 cles/ 5 certainly one of the most absurd is that “for every 
 disease there must be a remedy. 55 The experienced physi- 
 cian and naturalist, who is familiar with the actual facts, 
 knows that this is of rarest occurrence, and is disposed 
 rather to wonder that a radical remedy exists for certain 
 diseases — as, for instance, cinchona for fever. 
 
 It would only weary the indulgent reader, were I to 
 vainly attempt, without the aid of illustrations, to intro- 
 duce him to the botanical Eden of Paredenia. Nor would 
 the numerous water- color sketches and drawings I made 
 while there materially assist me. I shall therefore restrict 
 myself to a few general observations, and the notice of 
 several of the most important plant-forms. Vastly unlike 
 most of the botanic gardens of Europe, whose stiff rows of 
 beds remind one of files of soldiers, the Paredenia garden 
 (150 acres) is arranged with regard to aesthetic effect as 
 well as for the systematic classification of the plants. The 
 principal’ tree-groups, and plants of kindred species, are 
 tastefully distributed over grassy lawns, with pleasant paths 
 leading from one to the other. In a more retired part of 
 the garden are the less attractive beds for the cultivation of 
 useful plants. Almost all of the useful plants of the torrid 
 zone (of both hemispheres) are here represented; seeds, 
 scions, and fruits of many of them are annually distributed 
 among the planters and gardeners on the island. Thus 
 the garden is not only an experimental station and accli- 
 matization garden, but it has for years conferred important 
 practical benefits on the colonists. 
 
 The singularly favorable climatic and topographical con- 
 ditions under which the garden flourishes would also ad- 
 mirably adapt it to the purely scientific experiments of a 
 botanic station . In a like manner, as our young zoologists 
 are able to prosecute their scientific studies in the lately 
 established zoological stations along the sea-coast (at Naples, 
 Koscoff, Brighton, Triest, etc.), so the student of botany 
 might in one year learn more in the botanic station of 
 Paredenia than he could possibly accomplish in ten at 
 home. As yet the tropical zone, the richest in material 
 
82 
 
 INDIA AND GETLON. 
 
 for botanical study, contains no such institution. If the 
 English Government were to establish and support a botanic 
 station at Paredenia, and a zoological station at Galle (for 
 instance, in Captain Bayley’s charming and admirably 
 adapted bungalow), she would add to the important ser- 
 vices she has already rendered to science by the Challenger 
 expedition and other similar scientific undertakings; she 
 would again shame the continental states of Europe that 
 have no money to expend for anything but breech-loaders 
 and cannon ! 
 
 If, among the many wonders in Paredenia Garden only 
 a few are to be briefly noticed, then I shall begin with the 
 celebrated giant bamboos, the astonishment and admira- 
 tion of every visitor. Rambling from the entrance gate 
 towards the river and along its lovely bank, we see, while 
 still at a distance, huge green bushes over one hundred 
 feet high, and as many broad, which spread their plumed 
 heads — like the feather brushes of giants — high above 
 the river and the road, casting delightful shadow over 
 both. Approaching nearer we see that this stupendous 
 mass of verdure is composed of numerous (from 80 to 100) 
 slender stems from one to two feet thick, which have 
 sprung from a common root, and bear, on delicate, nodding 
 branches, dense clusters of the daintiest leaves. And these 
 gigantic trees are nothing but grasses! Like all grass 
 stalks these prodigious tubes are jointed; but the sheath 
 which, in the delicate species, is a thin, small scale at the 
 base of the leaf, is, in this bamboo giant, a firm woody 
 partition that, without further preparation, might serve as 
 a shield for the breast of a vigorous man. A child of three 
 years might hide in one of the joints! As is well known, 
 the bamboo belongs to the useful plants of the tropics; but 
 to fully describe the manifold uses to which these tree- 
 grasses — as well as the palms — are turned to account by the 
 natives would fill a whole volume. 
 
 Next to the bamboos — or, indeed, before them — come 
 the palms. Beside the orders indigenous to the island, 
 we find here a number of palms that are natives of the 
 mainland of India, the Sunda Islands, Australia, and trop- 
 ical America — as, for instance, the Livistonia chinensis , 
 with its huge crown of fan-shaped leaves; the celebrated 
 Lodoicea from the Seychelles, with its colossal fans; the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 83 
 
 Elms , or oil-palm of Guinea, with its long, plume-like 
 foliage; the famous Mauritia from Brazil; the lofty Oreo - 
 doxci, or king ? s-palm, from Havana, etc. Of the latter I 
 admired and sketched, on Teneriffe (1866), a splendid 
 specimen, and was therefore not a little surprised and de- 
 lighted to behold here a whole avenue of the stately trees. 
 No less interesting were splendid groups of thorny climb- 
 ing palms or rattans (calamus) with delicate, vibrating 
 leaves; their slender but firm and elastic stems climb to 
 the tops of the highest trees, often attaining a length of 
 three or four hundred feet. They belong to the longest 
 of all plants. 
 
 But one must pay a penalty for wandering among palms. 
 While rambling through the tall grass on the river bank, 
 beneath the giant crown of an oil-palm, my fascinated gaze 
 following the windings of an ambitious rattan, I suddenly 
 felt several sharp stings on my leg; an examination revealed 
 a pair of diminutive leeches that had attached themselves 
 to me, while half a dozen or more of their fellows were 
 nimbly ascending the leg of my boot. This was my first 
 introduction to the notorious land-leech of Ceylon, the 
 most annoying of all the numerous plagues on this beauti- 
 ful island. This species ( Hirudo ceylonica) belongs to the 
 smallest, as well as the most disagreeable of the genera. 
 With the exception of the sea-coast and the higher moun- 
 tain country, they are found in the greatest profusion 
 everywhere on the island — especially on the banks of the 
 rivers and in the damp jungles of the lowland hills, where 
 one cannot take a step without being -attacked by them. 
 They not only creep along the ground, but infest the 
 bushes and trees, from whence they drop on the unsuspect- 
 ing passer-by; they will even make a sudden jump to reach 
 their prey. When fully distended the land-leech is as large 
 as the smaller medicinal leeches; before his feast, however, 
 he is about half an inch in length, scarcely thicker than a 
 thread, and penetrates the heaviest stocking with amazing 
 rapidity. Frequently their sting is immediately felt, and 
 very often not. Once, in an evening company, 1 was made 
 aware of their presence only when I saw the blood trick- 
 ling down the leg of my white pantaloons. 
 
 To prevent an attack from these pests a drop of lemon 
 juice is sufficient, for which reason a small lemon is always 
 
84 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 carried in the pocket when rambling-in the lowlands. In- 
 stead of this remedy, however, I made use of carbolic acid, 
 or alcohol, both of which I always carried with me on my 
 collecting tours. The effects of their sting are very differ- 
 ent. Persons with sensitive skins (to which class I unfor- 
 tunately belong) suffer for several days from an annoying 
 irritation, and not infrequently the wound is attended by 
 more or less painful inflammation. As the leeches prefer 
 these tender, inflamed parts, the wounds very frequently 
 become quite serious. When the English, in 1815, con- 
 quered Kandy, and the troops were obliged for weeks to 
 force their way through the jungles, many soldiers were 
 lost by the incessant attacks of these minute leech foes. In 
 the regions where they are most numerous, the Europeans 
 are obliged to wear leech-gaiters made of rubber or closely 
 woven cloth, which are drawn over the boot and fastened 
 around the knee. Always when starting for the jungle I 
 took the precaution to smear a streak of carbolic acid 
 around the tops of my hunting boots. In some parts of the 
 island these leeches, by their enormous number, render — as 
 do the ticks (Ixodes) hi other parts — a stay of any length 
 almost impossible. Another diminutive plague in the gar- 
 den of Paredenia (as in all watered regions on the island) 
 is the musquito and stinging fly; musquito nets for the 
 bed-chambers are an absolute necessity. But far more 
 dangerous than these insects, which are only troublesome 
 pests, are the poisonous scorpions and millepeds of which 
 I secured some splendid examples. 
 
 One of the most attractive parts of Paredenia is the fern 
 garden. In the dense shade of tall trees along the cool 
 banks of a murmuring brook is assembled a company of 
 small and large, delicate and vigorous, herbaceous and 
 arboreous ferns, such as it would be impossible to im- 
 agine any more charming and agreeable. The entire 
 charm of form which distinguishes the dainty feathery 
 foliage of our native ferns is here displayed in an endless 
 variety of different species, from the simplest to the most 
 complex; and while some of the pretty little dwarf ferns 
 might easily be confounded with dainty mosses, the giant 
 tree-ferns, whose slim, black stems bear a lovely crown of 
 feathery leaves, attain the proud height of the palm. 
 
 Like the ferns, the fern-palms, or Cycadece , as well as the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 85 
 
 dainty selaginella and lycopodia families, are represented in 
 Paredenia by choice collections of the most interesting 
 species, from the most minute, moss-like forms to the 
 robust shrub sorts that almost remind one of the extinct 
 tree-lycopodia of the stone-coal period. Indeed, many 
 plant-groups in this garden recall to mind the fossil flora so 
 admirably portrayed by Unger in his views from an antidi- 
 luvian world. 
 
 If, in conclusion, but two more plant orders, which are 
 of peculiar interest to me, are to be introduced to your 
 notice, then the first shall be the lianas, and the second the 
 banyans. Although creeping and climbing plants are 
 abundant everywhere on the island, the Paredenia Garden 
 contains several splendid examples, the like of which are 
 rarely found ; for instance, colossal vines of the Vitis, Cissus , 
 Pur'tada , Bignonia, Ficus , etc. Also the banyans, and 
 several kindred fig trees ( Ficus galaxifera , etc.), are the 
 finest, most magnificent tree-forms I saw on Ceylon. 
 
 A very remarkable sight was presented by one of these 
 ancient banyan trees, whose mighty crown rested on numer- 
 ous root-columns; it was almost entirely denuded of foliage, 
 but large numbers of what seemed to be a monstrous brown 
 fruit hung from the bare branches. Imagine my astonish- 
 ment when, on approaching the tree, several of these 
 “fruits” suddenly took wing and flew away! They were 
 flying foxes ( P ter opus ), of that remarkable group of fru- 
 givorous bats which is confined to the tropical zone of the 
 old world (Asia and Africa). Several cleverly-aimed shots 
 brought half a dozen to the ground, whereupon the rest of 
 the flock (several hundred) flew loudly screaming away. 
 Those of the fallen that had only been wounded vigorously 
 defended themselves with their sharp teeth and claws, and 
 it was only after considerable difficulty that I succeeded — 
 with the aid of my hunting knife — in conquering them. 
 These “ flying foxes” are, in shape — especially the head — size, 
 and color very similar to the fox. But the limbs, like those 
 of all other bats, are connected by a tough wing-membrane 
 that enables them to fly very swiftly. Their motion is very 
 different from that of our northern bats; it is more like the 
 flight of a crow. They feed on fruits, and are therefore 
 very destructive. They are particularly fond of the sweet 
 palm wine, and are often found by the natives in a tipsy 
 
86 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 condition in the sap vessels hanging on the palms. This 
 propensity sufficiently explains the near consanguinity 
 which the phylo-genetic genealogy of the mammalia estab- 
 lishes between them and the apes — likewise man! 
 
 In the sorrel-hued fur of the flying fox I found large 
 parasitic insects ( Nycteribia ) of peculiar, spider-like form, 
 belonging to the Pupipara group. These insects — like the 
 fleas — are Diptera , or flies, which, in consequence of parasitic 
 habits, have ceased to fly, and through disuse of their 
 wings have eventually become wingless insects. However, 
 they can travel with surprising activity over the bodies of 
 their hosts — also over my hand, as I found when I tried to 
 capture some of them. Several particularly nimble fellows 
 disappeared up my sleeve and buried their sharp claws in 
 my flesh. 
 
 That same day I made another interesting but danger- 
 ous zoological acquaintance. While engaged, during a rain 
 storm in the afternoon, in imprisoning a gigantic black 
 myriapod in a spirit bottle, a large hooded snake, the 
 dreaded Cobra di capello ( Naja tripudians ), crept through 
 the open garden door into my bedroom. I had not noticed 
 him, although he was scarcely a foot away from me, and 
 became aware of his presence only when my servant dashed, 
 excitedly shrieking “ Cobra! cobra! ’’into the room. With 
 the native’s assistance I soon mastered the poisonous mon- 
 ster (he was over a metre in length), and he now occupies 
 a spirit bottle in company with a remarkable snake-like 
 amphibia, Ccecilia , I found a few days before. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Kandy. 
 
 Among the few cities Ceylon can boast Kandy, although 
 it can scarcely be called a city, enjoys a distinct and sepa- 
 rate reputation; partly from its being the capital of the 
 central province, partly because it was once the residence 
 of the native Kandyan kings, and partly because an ancient 
 temple in its precincts contains the “ sacred tooth” of Bud- 
 dha, one of the most celebrated relics of this religion. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 87 
 
 In addition to these attractions I had read in Sir Emerson 
 Tennent’s excellent work on Ceylon, a glowing description 
 of Kandv’s incomparably beautiful situation and envnons 
 enthusiastic praise that was echoed by later travelers who, 
 in their descriptions, usually imitated Sir Emerson. Con- 
 sequently, the expectations with which I set out from 1 are- 
 denia on the morning of the 6tli of December for the tliiee 
 miles distant Kandy were by no means small. 
 
 So often in my travels I have found that the world-famed 
 places, which it is the “fashion” to visit, and whose praise 
 every tourist feels it incumbent upon himself to repeat, 
 were, in fact, scarcely worth visiting; while frequently there 
 would be in close juxtaposition really charming neighbor- 
 hoods which were wholly ignored by the tourist because they 
 were not mentioned in the “ guide-books. This was again 
 mv experience in Ceylon with the far-famed city of Kandy, 
 and I shall, without further preamble, at once confess that 
 my visit here was, from beginning to end, a huge disap- 
 
 ^°The “proud regal city” might better pose as an “ unpre- 
 tending village,” whose few streets contain more Singhalese 
 earth-huts than European bungalows, and these dwellings 
 are not even divided — as in Colombo, Galle, Matui a, and 
 other cities on the island-into a “ white town or fort, 
 and a “black town,” or pettah. Two long parallel streets 
 are crossed at right angles by a few smaller ones; the 
 “lovely lake” which lies in front of the city, and which is 
 extolled as a peculiar embellishment, is a small artificial 
 pond of rectangular shape, whose banks are flanked by 
 perfectly straight rows of trees. If, therefore, you rise 
 above the little valley which contains Kandy and its lake, 
 and ascend one of the numerous artificial walks to the 
 summit of one of the surrounding hills, the view is exces- 
 sively stiff and artificial, and anything but picturesque. It 
 is further disfigured by a large, lately-built prison, with 
 high bare walls, that is much too large and massive for the 
 proportions of its surroundings. Nor were the pa,rtly-cul- 
 tivated, partly-wooded hills which encircle the valley, and 
 above which rise several taller ranges, specially attractive, 
 either in beauty of outline or picturesque grouping, ibis 
 will explain why the sketch-book I took with me to Kandy 
 with the best of intentions remained blank; I was unable 
 
88 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 to find a single point that was worth perpetuating in water- 
 colors. 
 
 Kandy’s principal beauty — to my taste at least — is the 
 lovely garden which surrounds the modern palace of the 
 governor. It is tastefully laid out on the slope of a hill, 
 and contains, in addition to a great many fine trees, a num- 
 ber of ornamental plants. But it is not to be compared 
 with the Paredenia Garden. The palace itself, in which, 
 invited by the governor, I spent a very pleasant evening, 
 contains but a few large airy apartments; they are ele- 
 gantly furnished, and open on the veranda. Multitudes of 
 snakes, scorpions, and other tropical vermin are said to ren- 
 der a sojourn here anything but agreeable and comfortable. 
 
 The so-called “palace” of the ancient Kandyan kings 
 stands on the banks of the lake, and is a low, gloomy-look- 
 ing structure whose dark, musty interior contains nothing 
 of special interest except the dense masses of fungi, and 
 other cryptogams, which completely cover the thick damp 
 walls inside and out. Near by is the “ Royal Audience 
 Hall,” supported by carved pillars; it is used at present as 
 the district court-house. 
 
 Nor does the celebrated “Buddha Temple of Kandy,” 
 which, together with the ancient palace, is enclosed by a 
 high wall and surrounded by a moat, fulfil the expecta- 
 tions naturally aroused by its wonderful reputation. It is 
 of inconsiderable dimensions, badly preserved, and without 
 any artistic merit whatever. The primitive wall paintings, 
 as well as the carved ornaments of wood and ivory, are the 
 same as those in other Buddhist temples. As Kandy was 
 not elevated to the dignity of a regal residence until towards 
 the close of the 16 th century, and the palace, as well as the 
 temple, were not built until 1600 , the city cannot claim 
 even the charm of great antiquity. Very little real interest 
 is connected with the famous “ sacred tooth,” which is kept 
 under a silver bell in an octagon tower of the temple. 
 Although this tooth has, for more than two thousand years, 
 been devoutly worshipped by many millions of superstitious 
 people, and although it plays an important part in the his- 
 tory of Ceylon, it is, after all, but a simple, rudely-carved 
 piece of ivory, about two inches long and one thick. There 
 is a “ true Buddha tooth” in several localities, but this does 
 not impair the sanctity of any one of them. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 89 
 
 In company with my two botanical friends, Drs. Trimen 
 ,nd Ward, I paid a visit to “Fairyland,” the residence of 
 Or. Th waites, the former director of the Paredenia Botanic 
 Garden. His enchanting bungalow is quite hidden in a 
 ravine among the mountains, about eight miles south of 
 Kandy, and is surrounded by coffee plantations. 
 
 Dr. Thwaites is the meritorious author of a work on the 
 flora of Ceylon that appeared in London (1864) under the 
 title of Enumevatio Plant ctvum Zeylanica. In it he describes 
 upward of three thousand phamogamic plants indigenous 
 to the island, one thirtieth part of all the plants then 
 known on the globe. Since then, however, many new ones 
 have been discovered, and, according to the estimate of Dr. 
 Gardner, there are in Ceylon nearly 5000 species, a considei- 
 ably larger number than all Germany can produce. The 
 Flora of Ceylon which I had brought with me, formerly 
 belonged to a German botanist named Nietner. He came 
 to Ceylon a young gardener, had by thrift and industry 
 become the owner of a valuable coffee plantation, and had, 
 for a quarter of a century, taken an active interest in the 
 natural history of the island, and discovered a numbei of 
 new insects. He died, unfortunately, before he could le- 
 turn to his native land. His widow, who lives in Potsdam, 
 and who, before I sailed for India, gave me some valuable 
 information and advice, presented me with several of her 
 husband’s books, among them a copy of Dr. Thwaites’s 
 Flora that had been presented to Mr. Nietner by the author 
 himself. The worthy old gentleman was greatly pleased 
 when I showed him the book. It was doubtless the first 
 copy of his work that had been carried from Ceylon to 
 Europe by a botanist and back again by a zoologist. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Gaele-Colombo Eoad. 
 
 My first two weeks in Ceylon passed in continual sight- 
 seeing and wonderment like a dream. 
 
 In Colombo I had become acquainted with the most im- 
 portant characteristics of the Singhalese human and natural 
 worlds, had admired in Paredenia the astounding produc- 
 
90 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 tiye power of the tropical flora. It was now time to think 
 of the scientific motive of my journey, the investigation of 
 the multiform and, to some extent, unknown Indian ma- 
 rine animals. 
 
 I was particularly anxious to resume, on the shores of 
 Ceylon, the study of those animal classes in which I have 
 been interested for a number of years, such as mollusks, 
 radiolarians, sponges, corals, medusae, and siphonophora, 
 for I expected to find here entirely new forms, developed 
 under the influence of the tropical sun and the Indian con- 
 ditions of life. 
 
 The conditions under which these marine animals attain 
 their highest development are manifold and peculiar; and 
 it is by no means immaterial what part of the coast we se- 
 lect for their investigation. The perfect development of 
 the marine fauna depends not only on the quality of the 
 sea-water — its saltness, purity, temperature, current, and 
 depth, but also (and frequently to a considerable extent) 
 on the configuration of the contiguous shore, whether 
 it be rocky or sandy, calcareous or slaty, whether fer- 
 tile or barren. Again, the existence of certain groups is 
 favored, or hindered, by the quantity of fresh water that 
 flows into the ocean, and by the force of the surf on the 
 shore. For the development of those divisions of swimming 
 animals in which I am specially interested — radiolarians, 
 medusae, and siphonophera — the most favorable regions 
 are the deep land-locked bays with clear, still water, shel- 
 tered by rocky projections, undisturbed by large volumes 
 of fresh water, and supplied with currents that lead the 
 pelagic fauna into them. To favorable conditions like 
 these the harbor of Messina, the Gulf of Naples, and Bay 
 of Villafranca, in the Mediterranean, owe the reputation 
 they have won in the last decade among zoologists. 
 
 A glance at the map of India will show that such shel- 
 tered bays are of rarer occurrence along its coast than along 
 the dented shores of our matchless Mediterranean. On the 
 coast of Ceylon there are but three such bays: the pictur- 
 esque harbors of Galle and Belligam on the south-west 
 coast; and the celebrated island-adorned Gulf of Trin- 
 comalie on the north-west coast. The latter was declared 
 by Nelson one of the finest harbors in the world. The 
 English Government, which is quick to see and improve the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 91 
 
 natural advantages of her possessions, lost no time after the 
 acquisition of Ceylon in fortifying Trincomalie. The 
 Dutch had already erected forts on each of the two tongues 
 of land projecting into the harbor: Tort Frederick on the 
 northernmost, and Fort Ostenburg on the southern. Ihese 
 were enlarged and strengthened by the English, and many 
 other improvements made in the little town. But much 
 still remains to be done, especially when it is remembered 
 that Trincomalie is the most important harboi of defence 
 in all British India. In the struggle for the possession of 
 India, in which the British empire will, sooner or later, 
 have to participate, this fortified harbor will, as may easily 
 be seen, play an important part. 
 
 The harbor of Trincomalie, distinguished not only fonts 
 size and depth, but for its picturesque shores and numer- 
 ous wooded islands which guard its entrance, leads one 
 from the very first to expect a peculiarly rich development 
 of marine animal life. And, indeed, many groups of sea- 
 creatures, particularly those that frequent a rocky bottom 
 (mollusks and echinoderms) here seem to unfold a larger 
 number of different sorts than most points along the coast. 
 It is specially famous for its wealth of conchylia: beauti- 
 fully tinted snails, and delicately fashioned mussels. Several 
 zoologists who have visited Trincomalie have discovered 
 some entirely new animal forms. It was, therefore, natural 
 that I should turn my attention to this point m preference 
 to all others, and conclude to fish at least a month among 
 its productive waters. But, when it came to carrying out 
 my plans, insurmountable difficulties presented themselves. 
 Communication between Trincomalie and the rest of the 
 larger towns on the island is still very imperfect, and leaves 
 much to be desired, by water as wed as by land. As yet, 
 nothing has been done toward the projected railway between 
 Kandy and Trincomalie. As the former city lies almost 
 midway between the west and east coasts, and has foi yeais 
 been connected by rail with Colombo, the continuation o 
 the line to the east coast would seem almost a necessity, 
 especially when we consider the strategic importance ot 
 Trincomalie and the superiority of her harbor, which, m a 
 commercial sense, is but little used. At present the jour- 
 ney from Kandy to Trincomalie, is over a wretched road 
 that for days leads through uninhabited forests. At the 
 
92 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 time I thought of making the journey, in the beginning of 
 December, the condition of the road was particularly unin- 
 viting ; the heavy rains of the south-west monsoon had 
 swept away several bridges, and rendered long stretches of 
 the road almost impassable. I was afraid the bullock carts 
 on which my sixteen chests of instruments, etc., would 
 have to be transported to Trincomalie, would either stick 
 fast in the mud, or reach their destination under great 
 difficulties in a damaged condition. The prospects by sea 
 were no brighter. The little government coast-steamer, 
 the Serendib , which makes semi-monthly trips around 
 the island, forms the only regular and direct communica- 
 tion between the principal points on the coast; the sailing 
 vessels plying between these ports are neither safe nor re- 
 liable. As ill luck would have it, just at the time I wanted 
 to engage passage on the Serendib for Trincomalie she 
 was damaged in a storm, and towed to Bombay for repairs. 
 Consequently I was forced to postpone my visit, and later, 
 further hindrances compelled me, much to my regret, to 
 renounce the plan altogether. 
 
 There was now nothing left for me to do but to seek the 
 south-west coast, and setup my zoological laboratory either 
 at Galle or Belligam. Galle, or Point de Galle, the most 
 prominent seaport on the island, which, until within a few 
 years, was the principal station for all the Indian vessels, 
 and the usual place of debarkation for European travelers, 
 offered me the advantages of European civilization, facili- 
 ties for procuring what I might require, and constant in- 
 tercourse with cultured English residents. I might there 
 count to a certainty on fishing in a large, beautiful harbor 
 from European boats, on finding among the celebrated 
 coral banks a wealth of interesting sea animals, and on 
 examining and preserving them with proportionate ease and 
 convenience. There were still other advantages: other zo- 
 ologists had visited Galle before me, and by their discoveries 
 had facilitated my acquaintance with its locality and animal 
 life. BansonnePs handsome book in particular, contains a 
 number of important observations on the Galle coral banks. 
 Very different conditions awaited me at Belligam. True, the 
 lovely sheltered bay at this place, fifteen miles south of 
 Galle (half way between the latter port and Matura, the 
 most southerly point of the island), could boast of coral 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 93 
 
 banks and other topographical and zoological conditions 
 very similar to those of Galle, and it had besides, owing to 
 its being rarely visited or explored, the great charm of 
 novelty, and of being comparatively unknown. From what 
 I had heard, Belli gam surpassed Galle in beauty of scenery 
 and exuberant vegetation. But what charmed me even 
 more than this was, that in the former place I might for 
 several months throw off the conventionalities and unnat- 
 uralness of our civilized world, and, in the midst of tropi- 
 cal nature’s wanton luxuriance, for once yield myself to the 
 full enjoyment of its beauties. Here, surrounded by a 
 simple, uncultured people, I might hope to gain an idea of 
 the imaginary paradisal condition of our primitive ances- 
 tors. For Belligam is in reality nothing but a large, 
 purely Ceylonese village, inhabited by fishermen, shepherds, 
 and tillers of the soil; its four thousand chocolate-huecl 
 inhabitants, among whom there is not a single European, 
 live partly along the picturesque shores of the bay, and 
 partly on a lovely level stretch of cocoa-forest that verges 
 on the shore. In Belligam’s secluded rest-house I might 
 hope to accomplish more work, and with more coherence 
 and dispatch than in sociable Galle, surrounded by many 
 kindly-disposed friends and inquisitive acquaintances. 
 
 After maturely considering its advantages and disadvan- 
 tages, I at last decided in favor of Belligam, and had no 
 reason afterwards to regret my choice. The six most fruit- 
 ful weeks I spent there will ever remain a memorable 
 period; they form one of the choicest flower-groups in the 
 garland of my Indian reminiscences. I might have found 
 Galle more convenient for my special zoological study, but, 
 for a general view of nature and of nature’s people Belli- 
 gam was the better place. 
 
 Naturally there were numerous preparations to be made 
 for a protracted sojourn in this isolated fishing-village. As 
 lodgings were to be had only in the government rest-house, 
 and the traveler’s stay in these substitutes for hotels is re- 
 stricted to three days, it was necessary to obtain permission 
 to occupy the rest-house at Belligam for several months. 
 The governor of Ceylon, Sir James Longdon, to whom I 
 brought letters from the English Government (and to 
 whom I am indebted for many courtesies), furnished me 
 with letters to the president of the south province. In them 
 
94 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 not only the desired permission was granted, but several 
 government officials were ordered to render me any service 
 I might require. With the exemplary order and discipline 
 which attends the governmental mechanism in the English 
 colonies, as well as in the mother-country, an official docu- 
 ment like this is at times an indispensable talisman. Es- 
 pecially is this the case in Ceylon, as the island is entirely 
 independent of the Indian Government, and under the im- 
 mediate jurisdiction of the colonial administration in Lon- 
 don; the governor of the island is a sort of absolute mon- 
 arch, and pays very little heed to the deliberations of his 
 legislative council. To this despotic form of government, 
 which is extremely distasteful to the constitutional English- 
 man, are attributed most of the defects attendant upon the 
 administration of the beautiful island. One of the greatest 
 of these is that the governor’s term of office (four years) is 
 entirely too short, scarcely long enough for him to become 
 thoroughly acquainted with his domain. With a popula- 
 tion of two millions and a half, among whom are only three 
 thousand Europeans, the concentration of administrative 
 power in one hand seems to be the most advantageous form 
 of government. At all events, upon closer examination of 
 the matter, I came to the conclusion that here, as in most 
 of her colonies, England, with her usual practical sense, 
 had selected what was best, and that the government of 
 Ceylon was conducted with more circumspection and better 
 judgment than would be the case were the island under the 
 jurisdiction of almost any other civilized nation. 
 
 After providing myself with more introductory letters 
 from Galle, and purchasing the necessary articles for a 
 longer sojourn in Belligam, I loaded my sixteen chests on 
 a large, two-wheeled bullock cart that was to carry them 
 inside of eight days to Galle. These bullock carts are the 
 only means for transporting freight on the public roads in 
 Ceylon. The largest carts will carry on their two powerful 
 wheels a load of forty hundred weight, and are drawn by 
 four strong humped oxen or zebus of the largest species. 
 The yoke is simply laid across the necks of the animals in 
 front of the hump; the cart is covered by a barrel-shaped 
 roof of plaited cocoa leaves that protects the freight in the 
 body of the vehicle from the deluging rain; mats of the 
 same material serve as curtains in front and at the back. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 95 
 
 The load is carefully adjusted oyer the wheels so that the 
 centre of gravity rests directly oyer the axle. The driver 
 sits in front on the pole immediately behind the bullocks, 
 or else he walks between them, and by incessant cries, or 
 tugging at their tails, urges the poor beasts into a more 
 rapid gait. Hundreds of such carts, some with two, some 
 with four zebus, are continually seen on all the public roads. 
 Among them may occasionally be seen the swifter little 
 “ oxen-drosky ” or “bullock-bandy,” a lighter two-wheeled 
 vehicle of similar build, drawn by a pretty, swift-footed 
 zebu. 
 
 On the 9th of December I took my departure from hos- 
 pitable Whist Bungalow, accompanied by the good wishes 
 and judicious counsels of my amiable hosts. The journey 
 from Colombo to G-alle is a favorite theme in all the de- 
 scriptions of Ceylon travel. Until within a few years, all 
 the mail steamers landed first at G-alle, from whence the 
 passengers were transported overland to Colombo; conse- 
 quently their first impressions of the island’s natural beauty 
 were received while traveling along this road, which is, in 
 truth, peculiarly rich in natural attractions. The cocoa- 
 forest, with its endless succession of charming pictures, ex- 
 tends along the entire south-west coast. The road winds, 
 now through the shadowy forest, now verges on the sands, 
 or the rocks overhanging the sea, now pierces dense jun- 
 gles, or crosses the picturesque bridges which span the 
 numberless streams of the west coast. Formerly the entire 
 journey from Colombo to Galle was made in wagons, but a 
 railway now takes the place of the old road for about 
 one third the distance. It also runs close to the shore, 
 traverses the palm-grove in almost a direct line, and termi- 
 nates at Caltura. The continuation of the railway from 
 this point to Galle, which would be of incalculable advan- 
 tage to the latter city, is not sanctioned by the govern- 
 ment lest Galle’s importance might outrival that of Co- 
 lombo, the capital. As intercourse between the two cities 
 is very active, and constantly increasing, the commercial 
 success of a railway cannot be doubted. Unfortunately the 
 disparaging wish to elevate Colombo to the detriment of 
 Galle prompts the government to steadily refuse its conces- 
 sion, notwithstanding the fact that a company has proved 
 its financial ability to complete the line. This is the cause 
 
96 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 of general complaint all along the Galle-Colombo road. The 
 traveler is compelled either to hire a very expensive private 
 conveyance, or to trust himself to the mail-coach, which 
 makes daily trips between Galle and Caltura. This is also a 
 very expensive mode of travel, and anything but agreeable. 
 
 The mail-coach bears the imposing title of “Royal mail- 
 coach,' ” and proudly displays on its doors the English coat- 
 of-arms, “ Honi soit qui mal y pense !” — an admonition 
 which, considering the condition of the rickety vehicle, 
 and the tortured horses furnishing the motive-power, 
 sounds like pure irony. The coach, which is scarcely large 
 enough to comfortably accommodate six passengers, is fre- 
 quently crowded with twice that number, each of the two 
 seats inside as well as the one behind occupied by three 
 persons, although there is hardly room for two. The most 
 desirable places are in front beside the driver. Here one 
 may enjoy a view of the surrounding country, and at the 
 same time escape the anything but agreeable odors which 
 emanate from the perspiring, cocoa-oiled Singhalese pas- 
 sengers crowded inside. The fare for the five hours’ jour- 
 ney is, for each “white” (European) passenger, fifteen 
 rupees; the dusky native pays only half as much. . 
 
 The most disagreeable feature of this coach ride, as with 
 all similar mail-coach journeys in Ceylon, is the horrible 
 torture inflicted on the wretched horses. The worthy 
 Singhalese seem to be entirely ignorant of the fact that 
 driving a horse is an art which has to be acquired, and that 
 horses must be trained, or “adapted” to the work required 
 of them. They seem, on the contrary, to think that the 
 poor beasts are gifted with an intuitive or hereditary knowl- 
 edge of how to draw a wagon, for, without previous train- 
 ing, they imprison the frightened creatures in clumsy har- 
 ness, and then torture them in various ways, until in sheer 
 desperation they gallop off. When neither urgent cries 
 nor violent blows suffice to make them go, various devices 
 of torture are resorted to: the sensitive nostrils are torn 
 apart with iron hooks; the tongue is seized with a pair of 
 tongs and almost pulled from the throat; the ears are twisted 
 around sticks until you think they will be torn from their 
 sockets; ropes are fastened to the fore legs, and pulled by 
 half a dozen yelping lads, while as many more tug at the 
 creature’s tail, or beat his legs with clubs. If this is not 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 97 
 
 sufficient to reduce the animal to a state of mad despera- 
 tion, a lighted torch is held under his belly. In short, all 
 the devices resorted to by the holy* Inquisition to convert 
 the unbelieving heretic are here practised on these poor 
 dumb brutes. Often, when compelled to witness such 
 atrocious cruelty, utterly powerless to prevent it, I have 
 wondered what heinous crimes the wretched creatures 
 were expiating. Who can tell but what kindred im- 
 pressions pervaded the crania of our dusky coachman and 
 groom? They doubtless are firm believers in Siva and 
 the transmigration of souls, and imagined that by tor- 
 turing the mail-coach horses, they avenged the cruelties 
 practised on their ancestors by heartless princes and con- 
 querors. Either this or a total want of sympathy — per- 
 haps too he shares the peculiar belief entertained by many 
 Europeans that animals have no feeling — actuates the 
 Singhalese, who considers the torture of dumb beasts an 
 amusement. In the villages along the road, where the 
 horses are changed, the arrival of the mail-coach is the 
 most important event of the day, and all the inhabitants 
 assemble, partly to inspect and criticise the passengers, 
 partly to enjoy the exciting spectacle of changing horses, 
 and to take active part in torturing the freshly-harnessed 
 beasts. When these are rendered desperate, they dash for- 
 ward in a mad gallop that is kept up until failing breath 
 reduces them to a more moderate pace. Covered with 
 sweat, with foaming lips and quivering limbs, they arrive at 
 the next station, where they are relieved for a time by 
 their companions in misery. For the traveler who trusts 
 himself to the rickety coach, this mode of travel is neither 
 pleasant nor free from danger. The coach is frequently 
 overturned and broken; sometimes the horses take it into 
 their heads to dash across the fields, or back into banana 
 thickets and ditches, for which reason I was prepared at 
 any moment to leap from my elevated seat beside the 
 driver. It is difficult to understand why the English Gov- 
 ernment, usually so rigid in maintaining order and disci- 
 pline, has not long ago prohibited such cruelty to animals, 
 and established rules for protecting the poor horses of her 
 own “ Eoyal mail-coach. ” 
 
 Great Buddha, thou that didst seek to mitigate all 
 suffering, what a blunder hast thou committed! What a 
 
98 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 benefit to man and beast would it have been hadst thou, 
 instead of foolishly interdicting the taking of life, forbid- 
 den torture! 
 
 While the former command is strictly obeyed by the 
 worshipper of Buddha, he never fails to rejoice when the 
 naturalist shoots the apes and flying foxes that steal his 
 bananas and mangoes; or when the planter kills the ele- 
 phant that tramples down his rice fields, the leopard that 
 destroys his goats, and the marten that robs his chicken- 
 yard. As a rule the Singhalese repulse the idea of taking 
 life, and are very careful not to kill an animal outright. 
 For this reason most of the fishermen are Roman Catholics; 
 they have renounced the faith of Buddha in order that 
 they may pursue their calling, which involves the killing 
 of fish. 
 
 The stubborn insubordination shown by the Indian 
 horses towards their torturers, and their inclination to make 
 unexpected leaps from the road, requires considerable 
 dexterity on the part of the coachman. His assistant like- 
 wise must be constantly on his guard. The perseverance 
 and agility of the latter is really wonderful. Entirely 
 naked, with the exception of a cloth around his loins, a 
 white turban on his head, and a post-horn around his neck, 
 the swarthy fellow (a Tamil) will run for a long distance 
 beside the flying coach, tugging now at the right, now at 
 the left rein; occasionally swinging himself to the foot- 
 board when the horses are going at their greatest speed. 
 At the approach of another wagon from the opposite direc- 
 tion, or at a sudden turn in the road, he quickly seizes the 
 horses’ heads and forces them to the proper side. In cross- 
 ing the long wooden bridges that span the wider streams, 
 he checks the wild career of his steeds, and cautiously leads 
 them over the loose, rattling planks. If a child — as fre- 
 quently happens — runs into the road, or an old woman ob- 
 stinately disputes the right of way with the coach, they are 
 unceremoniously pushed aside by the Tamil groom. In 
 short, he is constantly on the alert, ready for any emer- 
 gency. Although the character of the landscape along the 
 entire stretch of seventy miles between Colombo and Galle 
 is the same, yet the enchanted eye of the traveler never 
 wearies. The never-ending charm of the cocoa-groves, the 
 inexhaustible variety of palm-groups, with their alternating 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 99 
 
 pictures of human and animal life, prevent his interest 
 from flagging. The piercing heat of the tropical sun rarely 
 becomes oppressive, owing to the shade of the groves among 
 which he rides and the cool breeze from the ocean. True, 
 the feathery foliage of the palms does not cast the dense 
 refreshing shade of our northern woods, for the sun’s rays 
 easily penetrate the plumed crowns; but luxuriant vines 
 of all sorts entwine the slender stems, and hang in festoons 
 from tree to tree, or swing like graceful chandeliers from 
 their branches. 
 
 Many of the climbers are adorned with masses of exqui- 
 site bloom, such as flaming lilies, azure-hued thunbergias, 
 rose-colored bougainvilleas, and the gorgeous butterfly 
 blossoms of various papilionaceous creepers. Among the 
 palms — which of course predominate — are numerous other 
 trees, the noble mango, and the lofty bread-fruit with its 
 ponderous crown of dark green leaves. The slim column 
 of the graceful papaya ( Carica papaya) is beautifully 
 veined, and crowned by a diadem of spreading palmate 
 leaves. Different varieties of jasmine, orange, and lemon 
 shrubs are literally covered with fragrant white blossoms. 
 Among them nestle the picturesque white or brown huts, 
 and the traveler might easily imagine himself riding 
 through a long continuous village of palm gardens, were it 
 not for an occasional stretch of denser w r oods, or for the 
 rural bazaar which, with its collection of huts, betrays the 
 village proper. 
 
 Sometimes the road for a long distance verges upon the 
 sea-shore, where tracts of yellow yielding sand alternate 
 with rocky hillocks; the latter are clothed with grotesque 
 pandanus shrubs, or screw-palms. The pandanus {Pan- 
 dames odoratissimus) belongs to the most singular char- 
 acter plants of the tropics. It is closely allied to the 
 palms, and is also called screw-palm, or, more improp- 
 erly, screw^-pine. The low cylindrical stem, which 
 grows from twenty to forty feet high, is twisted, and 
 branched like a candelabrum; at the extremity of every 
 branch grows a thick tuft of large sword-shaped leaves 
 similar to those of the dracaena and the yucca. Some of 
 the leaves are a light green, others a much darker hue; 
 they are gracefully twisted, and their spiral arrangement 
 around the stem gives it the appearance of a perfectly reg- 
 
'INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 100 
 
 i 
 
 ular screw. From the base of every tuft hangs a cluster 
 of white, deliciously fragrant flowers, or a large red fruit 
 like the anana. But the plant’s most remarkable feature 
 is the slender adventitious roots, which give it the appear- 
 ance of walking on stilts. A clump of pandanus trees offers 
 a fantastic sight as the stems rise on their stilts above the 
 lower shrubbery, or stalk about over the rocks along the 
 shore. 
 
 The white or yellow sand of the beach, which is diversi- 
 fied by numerous dark, rocky projections, is animated by 
 multitudes of nimble little sand crabs, whose fleetness has 
 won for them the classic title of Ocypode. Also numerous 
 hermit-crabs ( Pagurus ) deliberately wander among their 
 swift-footed cousins, dragging after them the snail-houses 
 in which they have hidden their soft, sensitive hinder-parts. 
 Here and there are sand-pipers, herons, plovers, and other 
 shore birds busily engaged in catching fish in successful 
 competition with the Singhalese fishermen. The latter 
 pursue their calling in groups or singly; if in companies, 
 they row out in several canoes, and together drag a large 
 net towards tlie shore. The solitary fisherman prefers to 
 snatch his prey from the yeasty surf, and an interesting 
 spectacle is afforded by the naked brown forms, protected 
 only by broad-brimmed straw hats, dashing fearlessly with 
 their hand-nets into the foaming breakers. The refreshing 
 bath seems to delight them as much as it does their off- 
 spring, who play in swarms along the beach, and, at the age 
 of six or eight, are masters of the noble art of swimming. 
 
 Like a binding of lovely satin ribbon the white or golden 
 sands stretch for miles along the deeply dented coast, sepa- 
 rating the deep blue of the ocean from the pale green of the 
 cocoa-forest. The beauty of the shore is enhanced by the 
 slender palms that incline their feathered crests towards 
 the water as if eager to drink in deep draughts of the in- 
 vigorating breeze and radiant sunshine. The ground at 
 their feet is profusely decorated with the most beautiful 
 strand-flowers, among which three species are particularly 
 noticeable: the goat’s-foot ( Ipomeapes capri ), with its wealth 
 of crimson blossoms; an exquisite rose-colored balsam 
 ( Impatiens ), and the imposing trumpet-lily ( Pancratium 
 ceylonicum ) ; the stately white flowers of the latter, with 
 their narrow overhanging petals, grow in clusters on a 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 101 
 
 slender stem six or eight feet high. The huge leaves of the 
 calla also furnish adornment for the wayside. When the 
 rays of the sun become intolerable, or a sudden shower 
 overtakes him, the Singhalese merely plucks a giant cala- 
 dium leaf that protects him more effectively than would a 
 cotton or silk umbrella, and is, with its delicate traceries, 
 certainly more ornamental. Thus, in this sunlit Eden, even 
 parasols may be had for the plucking, or, better still, 
 “ entout cas ,” for the caladium leaf answers the double 
 purpose of umbrella and sunshade. 
 
 Among the many attractions of this beautiful G-alle-Co- 
 lombo road, are the numerous deltas which interrupt the 
 cocoa-forest, and the extensive lagoons that connect the 
 rivers, especially of the northern part of the coast (between 
 Colombo and Caltura). The former sovereigns of the isl- 
 and, the Dutch, were so delighted with these natural 
 water-ways, which reminded them of their native country, 
 that they established a regular system of canals, and entirely 
 neglected the roads by land. Like the well-known “ Treck- 
 schuiten ” of the Netherlands, numerous freight-boats 
 then plied the waters of the coast lagoons, and transacted 
 the greater part of the commercial business. Since the 
 construction of excellent roads by the English, these lagoons 
 are rarely used. However, with the dense groves of bam- 
 boo and palm fringing their banks, with the charming 
 little islands and rock-groups dotting their mirror-like 
 surface, they offer to the traveler hastening by a wealth 
 of enchanting pictures, especially there, where, above the 
 dark green forest mass, are arrayed hosts of slender cocoa- 
 palms — as Humboldt aptly expresses it, “ a forest above 
 the forest. ” A fitting background is formed by the ranges 
 of blue hills in the distance; here and there loom the taller 
 summits of the highland mountains, among them the ever 
 present, ever conspicuous Peak of Adam. 
 
 The smiling landscape assumes a more serious aspect 
 where the larger streams debouch on the sea. Here, the 
 sombre mangrove is the most salient feature. The shore 
 is densely fringed with these trees, their overarching roots 
 forming impenetrable thickets which were formerly inhab- 
 ited by crocodiles, but the steady march of civilization has 
 driven them to the upper portions of the rivers. The larg- 
 est of these rivers is the Kalu-ganga (black river), which. 
 
102 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 for miles from its mouth, is as wide as the Rhine at Co* 
 logne. Caltura, the terminus of the railway, is situated at 
 its mouth. At the southern extremity of Caltura a mag- 
 nificent banyan tree spans the road like a triumphal arch. 
 This gigantic fig-tree has sent out its powerful air-roots, 
 which have taken root in the opposite side of the road, thus 
 forming, with the parent stem, a natural arch that is all 
 the more attractive from its parasitic adornments — ferns, 
 orchids, and creepers of all sorts, that twine among the 
 branches with wanton luxuriance. 
 
 During a later visit to Caltura, I discovered near the 
 shore a second plant-wonder; it was an ancient India-rubber 
 tree whose reticulated roots formed a veritable labyrinth in 
 which swarms of merry children romped and played at hide 
 and seek. 
 
 Another attractive point of the Galle-Colombo road is 
 the rest-house at Bentotte, at which the passengers of the 
 “ Royal mail-coach” are allowed to rest, and refresh them- 
 selves with breakfast. A peculiar delicacy served at this 
 meal are the celebrated oysters of Bentotte, which may 
 be had raw, broiled, or pickled. Prom the rest-house, 
 which is picturesquely situated between lofty tamarind 
 trees on a hill, there is a fine view of the ocean, and the 
 bridge which spans the river. After breakfast I rambled 
 down to the bridge, below which some natives were dredg- 
 ing for oysters, then through the picturesque bazaars of the 
 long village street. The traffic in these bazaars is in as 
 perfect accord with their idyllic surroundings as are the 
 unpretending huts, and the primitive costumes of their half 
 naked inhabitants. Among the most important articles of 
 commerce, rice and curry form the most necessary food, 
 betel and areca the favorite luxury. These, together with 
 other articles of trade, are tastefully spread out on fresh 
 banana leaves in the open shops, whose sole entrance an- 
 swers the double purpose of door and windows. Alternat- 
 ing with heaps of cocoa-nuts are luscious bananas, nutri- 
 tious yams, colocasia, etc. Among them are gigantic 
 bread-fruits, weighing from fifty to eighty pounds, the 
 closely allied jack fruit, delicate mangoes and annonas (the 
 custard-apple of the English). While the fragrance of the 
 noble fruits exposed for sale in these shops, which are taste- 
 fully decorated by their Singhalese proprietors, is pleasant 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 103 
 
 and agreeable, intense odors, which are anything but de- 
 lightful, occasionally assail our olfactories; they emanate 
 from the heaps of dried sea animals, principally fish and 
 crabs; of the latter, particularly large shrimps — here called 
 prawns — are favorite ingredients for the omnipresent “ rice 
 and curry.” 
 
 Disappointment awaits the traveler who expects to find 
 in these Ceylonese bazaars the noise and confusion which 
 characterize the markets of most peoples, especially those 
 of southern Europe. Who, for instance, that is familiar 
 with the stir and bustle of the Piazza dell ’ Erbe in Verona, 
 or the turmoil of Santa Lucia in Naples, would not expect 
 to find far more confusion in a tropical bazaar? Such is not 
 the case. The sedate, placid temperament of the Singha- 
 lese is evident in his commercial relations, when the inter- 
 est of both buyer and seller is as trifling as the coin with 
 which he buys the most luscious fruits. These coins, by 
 the way, are copper pieces, of one and five cents value. 
 One hundred of the former, twenty of the latter make a 
 rupee; their impress is a cocoa-palm. Although the Sin- 
 ghalese is not wholly indifferent to money, he seems to re- 
 quire it less than most of mother earth’s children, for the 
 reason that few of her regions are so lavishly supplied with 
 nature’s noblest gifts as this fortunate island. As much 
 rice as he requires to sustain life may be procured at the 
 expense of very little labors from ten to fifteen cents will 
 supply all his daily wants, while the fruits of the earth, 
 and the fishes of the sea are so abundant that components 
 for a curry, and various other mixtures, are never lacking. 
 
 Then why should the Singhalese embitter his life with 
 toil? He is too indolent, or, rather, too philosophical. 
 For this reason we see him stretched at his ease in front of 
 his primitive habitation, or squatted on the ground lazily 
 gossiping with his neighbors. The trifling work his garden 
 requires is soon performed, and the remaining time passed 
 in play. Even his amusements are anything but exciting; 
 the magic spell of rest and quiet seems to have settled on 
 these fortunate beings — a condition that is as strange as de- 
 lightful to the restless culture-folk of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 Fortunate Singhalese! No care for the morrow or the 
 more distant future troubles you. What you require 
 
104 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 for the nourishment of yourself and your children grows 
 spontaneously into your very mouth; your luxuries are ob- 
 tained by the most trifling exertion. You are indeed like 
 the “lilies of the field,” that wanton around your simple 
 dwelling; you “toil not, neither do you spin,” yet are you 
 nourished by a providential nature! No political or war- 
 like ambition tortures your soul; no disturbing thought of 
 competition, or rise and fall of stocks, drives slumber from 
 your eyes! Those aspirations of higher culture: titles, or- 
 ders, are unknown to you, and yet you rejoice in your 
 life! I am almost tempted to believe you do not envy the 
 European’s thousand-and-one superfluous needs; you are 
 content to remain nature’s children — content with your 
 paradisal existence. How comfortably you lie there, 
 dreamily watching the dancing sunlight among the feathery 
 plumes of your cocoa canopy; how you enjoy your betel, 
 your children’s games, your refreshing bath in the river; 
 how easily you accomplish your simple toilet! What care- 
 burdened civilian would not covet your innocent nature 
 and your paradisal rest? 
 
 These and kindred reflections passed through my brain 
 while the coach was changing horses at the last station 
 before Galle, where groups of indolent natives were enjoy- 
 ing life in the shade of the bananas. Here, indeed, the 
 “struggle for existence” seemed to have ceased! I was 
 roused from my reverie by the two horse-tamers who asked 
 me to resume my place on the front seat, the noble Mala- 
 bars at the same moment suggesting in broken English, 
 that it was time to think of the customary “fee” to the 
 coachman and groom, as after the arrival at Galle they 
 would be too busy to properly attend to this momentous 
 transaction. I had noticed that an opulent native passen- 
 ger on reaching his destination had given each of the men 
 a “ double- anna” and believed myself sufficiently taxed as 
 “white man” if I paid four times that amount. I handed 
 to each a shilling, but my gratuity was indignantly rejected 
 by both the men, who read me a joint lecture on the impor- 
 tance of color that was certainly very complimentary to 
 my complexion. The purport of this homily was, that 
 every white “gentleman” was expected to bestow at least 
 one rupee on each of the men, and that I — who must belong 
 to one of the highest castes, by reason of my fair complexion 
 
- INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 105 
 
 and light hair — would be expected to pay considerably 
 more. Although taxation levied in this manner could not 
 fail to tickle my vanity, I was not to be inveigled into pay- 
 ing more than the usual “white-tax.” I gave each of the 
 men a rupee, and had the satisfaction afterwards of hearing 
 myself pronounced a “perfect gentleman.” When I con- 
 sidered the exquisite enjoyment of the delightful five-hours’ 
 coach ride, I found the exorbitant fare of seventeen florins 
 quite reasonable, and was really very sorry, notwithstanding 
 the heat and weariness, when the light-tower of Galle came 
 in sight. Shortly after, the mail-coach rumbled over the 
 drawbridge of the ancient moat, through a long gloomy 
 gateway, to the door of the “ Oriental Hotel ” of Galle. 
 
 IX. 
 
 PlJKTO GALLA. 
 
 Ok a rocky promontory that extends from the west and 
 encloses the roomy harbor, stands lovely Punto Galla or 
 Point de Galle, from remote antiquity one of the most cele- 
 brated and important cities of Ceylon. The definition of 
 the Singhalese Galla is “rocks,” and bears no relation 
 whatever to the Latin g alius, as the island’s first European 
 masters, the Portuguese, supposed. An illustration of 
 this erroneous interpretation remains to this day on the 
 ancient city wall, in the moss-grown stone image of a cock 
 with the numerals 1640. 
 
 Galle, according to the testimony of ancient authors, was 
 an important commercial emporium, and probably the 
 largest and wealthiest city on the island more than two 
 thousand years ago. Here, the eastern and western halves 
 of the old world met and clasped hands; here, the Arabian 
 navigator who ventured thus far from his Persian Gulf, 
 traded with the Malay from the Sun da Archipelago, and 
 with the Chinese from the remote East. The Oriental Tar- 
 shish of the ancient Phoenician and Hebrew writers must 
 have been Galle; the apes and peacocks, the ivory and the 
 gold which the navigators of those days brought from far- 
 famed Tarshish, were designated by the same terms that 
 
106 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 are applied to them to-day by the Tamils of Ceylon; while 
 the more accurate descriptions of the oft-visited harbor of 
 Tarshish can be applied to but one of all Ceylon’s harbors 
 — to the celebrated “ rocky point/’ Pun to Galla. 
 
 Galle’s natural advantages and geographical position 
 near the southernmost point of Ceylon — under the sixth 
 degree of latitude — as well as her climatic and topographi- 
 cal conditions, are so obvious that one would naturally 
 suppose them all-sufficient to establish her precedence as 
 the most important commercial station on the coast. But 
 the continual efforts of the British Government to elevate 
 Colombo at the expense of Galle, and especially the im- 
 proved facilities of communication between Colombo and 
 the interior of the island, as well as her nearer proximity 
 to the coffee districts, have in late years considerably in- 
 jured Galle. As I remarked before, by far the largest por- 
 tion of the island’s trade has withdrawn to Colombo, and 
 Galle’s beautiful harbor is not what it once was. How- 
 ever, Galle still remains the most important seaboard town 
 next to Colombo, and especially will she continue to be the 
 natural outlet for the rich products of the south province. 
 Chief among these are the manifold properties of the co- 
 coa-palm: the superior cocoa oil; coir, the stout fibres of 
 the cocoanut which is used principally for the manufac- 
 ture of cordage; palm sugar, from which arrack is distilled, 
 etc. Formerly Galle played an important part in the gem 
 traffic, which she still does in the graphite or plumbago 
 trade. If the railway were to be completed from Caltura 
 to Galle, and the rocks and coral-reefs which render parts 
 of the excellent harbor dangerous, were removed with dy- 
 namite, then would Punto Galla’s vanished prosperity be 
 restored and flourish with renewed vigor. 
 
 The situation of Galle is charming, and it is quite natu- 
 ral that in nearly all the earlier descriptions of Ceylon 
 travel this point, on which the voyager first debarked, 
 should be specially mentioned and extolled. The Euro- 
 pean or “ white town” — the “fort” — occupies the crest of 
 the rocky tongue of land before mentioned, and consists 
 of one-storied stone houses, encircled by wide verandas 
 which are upheld by rows of pillars, and covered by pro- 
 jecting tile roofs. Flourishing gardens add as much to 
 the adornment of the city as the broad avenues of shade- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 107 
 
 dispensing suriya ( Thespesia populned) and hibiscus trees 
 {Hibiscus rosa sinensis). The latter here take the place 
 of the rose tree; they are covered with crisp, shining green 
 foliage and lovely crimson flowers, which the English resi- 
 dent prosaically designates “ shoe-flowers,” because a de- 
 coction of their fruit is used to polish shoes. 
 
 The most conspicuous among the public buildings is the 
 Protestant church, a handsome Gothic structure built on 
 one of the highest points of the hilly city. Its thick stone 
 walls and garland of shade trees render the vaulted interior 
 delightfully cool, it was decidedly refreshing when, one 
 Sunday forenoon, tired by an extended ramble, I sought 
 shelter from the too ardent rays of Helios in this shaflowy 
 retreat. 
 
 Opj)osite the church is the “Queen’s House,” the largest 
 edifice in Galle, and formerly the official residence of the 
 governor. Here, travelers of rank, or those furnished with 
 special commendations, were hospitably entertained by the 
 governor; and this, perhaps, is why the government 
 building in Galle and its near neighborhood, are usually 
 the first points mentioned andTadmired in the earlier de- 
 scriptions of Ceylon travel. Among the German travelers 
 who have been entertained here are Messrs. Hoffmeister 
 and Eansonnet. Several years ago this “house of the 
 Queen” passed into private hands, and is now the property 
 of Messrs. Clark, Spence & Co., the largest mercantile 
 house in the city. I brought letters of introduction from 
 Herr Stipperger to the head of this firm, Mr. Henry Scott, 
 by whom I was most cordially received. Two of the ele- 
 gant, roomy apartments in the “ Queen’s House” and a 
 breezy veranda were placed at my disposal, and everything 
 done to render my sojourn in Galle as pleasant as possible. 
 
 I not only felt at home in Mr. Scott’s agreeable family 
 circle, but learned to know in him an English merchant 
 whose varied attainments eminently fit him for the promi- 
 nent positions he occupies. 
 
 At present he represents several European consulates, 
 and it is to be regretted that he was not also chosen to be 
 Germany’s consular representative. The present incum- 
 bent of that office in Galle, Mr. Vanderspaar, does not 
 speak German, nor does he exhibit the least interest for 
 the country he represents. Judging from the reports of 
 
108 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 former travelers I infer that Mr. Vanderspaar’s father and 
 predecessor in office was distinguished by the same nega- 
 tive qualities. On the other hand, Mr. Sco'tt, who spent 
 a number of years at school in Germany, speaks the lan- 
 guage of that country with great fluency, and entertains a 
 high regard for German literature and science. Having 
 the good fortune to be considered a representative of the 
 latter I enjoyed every advantage Mr. Scott’s liberal hospi- 
 tality could supply. Such treatment naturally reduced me 
 to a state of indecision, whether it would not be wiser to 
 accept his generous offer and set up my zoological labora- 
 tory £or several weeks among the European comforts and 
 conveniences of the “ Queen’s House,” and in the midst of 
 a pleasant family circle, than in Belligam surrounded by 
 semi-savages. 
 
 However, I manfully resisted the allurements of the for- 
 mer alternative, and was richly rewarded for it; in Belli- 
 gam I obtained a better view of the primitive nature of 
 Ceylon and its aboriginal inhabitants than I could have in 
 civilized Galle. 
 
 The short time I remained in the latter city, as well as 
 the brief visit I paid Mr. Scott on my return from Belli- 
 gam, was, by the circumspect aid of that gentleman, so 
 profitably spent that, notwithstanding the brevity of the 
 period, I obtained an excellent insight into the natural 
 beauties around Galle, and the wealth of her magnificent 
 coral banks. At any hour I might elect, both of Mr. 
 Scott’s carriages were at my disposal for an excursion by 
 land, and his comfortable boat — manned by three stout 
 Malabars— at my command for an expedition by water. 
 Besides, Mr. Scott introduced me to several prominent 
 English residents who could materially assist me in my 
 scientific investigations; to Captains Bayley and Blythe in 
 particular I am greatly indebted for numerous favors. 
 
 The first and most convenient promenade after arriving 
 in Galle is usually a tour around the fort on the high walls. 
 These walls, which were solidly built of brick by the Dutch, 
 rise to a considerable elevation above the water; from the 
 east wall may be obtained a fine view of the harbor, the 
 wooded hills encircling it, and the blue mountain chains 
 of the distant highlands. From the south and west walls 
 one looks down on the wonderful coral banks that girt the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 109 
 
 rocky promontory on every side. These coral garden? 
 which, at ebb tide, display a large portion of their flowen 
 like animals, are especially beautiful near the light-tower 
 at the south-west corner of the fort. Two ancient gateways 
 whose stone pillars, like the walls, are covered with luxu- 
 riant ferns and mosses, lead from the interior of the fort 
 into the open. The east gate opens on the quay; the one 
 on the north side opens on the esplanade, a green level 
 stretch that separates the fort from the pettah, or “ Black 
 Town.” The latter comprises the simple habitations and 
 bazaars of the natives; part of it extends in an easterly di- 
 rection along the mole around the harbor, another section 
 stretches along the shore and the Colombo road. Both 
 lose themselves without definite limits among the groups 
 of houses and clusters of huts that are scattered every- 
 where in the surrounding cocoa-groves. 
 
 In a beautiful situation on a neighboring hill opposite 
 the fort, is the Catholic church, with which are connected 
 a Catholic school and mission. In the director of the lat- 
 ter, Padre Palla (the successor of the esteemed Padre Mili- 
 ani — frequently mentioned in former books of travel), I 
 found a very agreeable and well-informed gentleman; he is 
 a native of Triest, and was greatly delighted to find me 
 able to converse with him about that city and Dalmatia in 
 his beloved Italian mother tongue. The well-kept mission 
 garden is, like most of the gardens in the Eden-like envi- 
 rons of Galle, rich in the magnificent productions of the 
 tropical zone- wonders that would delight the heart of 
 every botan.st and plant friend. 
 
 But the most enchanting spot, to my taste, in the whole 
 neighborhood is Captain Bayley’s “ Villa Marina.” This 
 enterprising gentleman was formerly a ship captain, and is 
 now the agent for the P. and 0. Company. His intense love 
 for nature prompted him to select for his residence a spot 
 that for wild and picturesque beauty cannot be surpassed. 
 About midway in the wide semicircular sweep of shore 
 which encloses the northern part of the harbor, two huge 
 masses of gneiss rock jut far out into the ocean; several 
 small rock islets, densely overgrown with pandanus shrubs, 
 are grouped like sentinels around them. On one of these 
 rock masses (the one farthest towards the east) Captain 
 Bayley has built a tasteful villa that, with its lovely garden, 
 
110 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 forms a veritable “Miramare of Galla.” From the west 
 windows of the villa, and particularly from the terrace out- 
 side, one enjoys a view of the city and the intervening 
 harbor that is not surpassed by any point of view in the 
 neighborhood. The light-tower and the Protestant church 
 are salient features in the beautiful panorama, and are 
 especially attractive when illumined by the golden radiance 
 of the morning sun. A charming middle ground is offered 
 by the picturesque black rock-islets with their fantastic 
 decorations of screw-palms; and the little Singhalese fish- 
 ing huts nestling at their feet. For the foreground, the 
 cloven rocks tossed about, and heaped up in the wildest 
 disorder in the immediate vicinity of the villa, will furnish 
 a grotesque motive — or, if a friendlier character is desired 
 for the picture, then copy a stretch of the lovely garden 
 with its adornments of choicest tropical plants. 
 
 Among the numerous embellishments of this garden are 
 several splendid examples of the Egyptian dhum-palm 
 (. Hyphcene thebaica ), in which I was specially interested. 
 The strong stem of this palm is not, like most of the trees 
 belonging to this family, a slender column, but is repeatedly 
 forked like the dragon-tree, or draccena; every branch 
 bears a crown of fan-shaped leaves. I had made the ac- 
 quaintance of this celebrated palm — which grows principally 
 in Upper Egypt — in the Arabian village of Tur, at the foot 
 of Mt. Sinai, and have given an illustration of it in my 
 Arabischen Korallen (plate iv. p. 28). You may, there- 
 fore, imagine how surprised I was when I here beheld the 
 same tree in so different a guise that I scarcely recognized 
 it. The adapting it to the totally different conditions of 
 life in Ceylon had transformed the Egyptian dhum-palm 
 to quite another tree. The powerful stem seemed at least 
 twice as strong and far more vigorous than in its native 
 land; the forked branches were more numerous, but 
 shorter and more compact; the gigantic fan-shaped leaves 
 much larger, more luxuriant, and more succulent; the 
 flowers and fruit seemed also to have increased in size and 
 beauty. Indeed the entire habitus of the beautiful tree 
 had so changed in the forcing-house climate of Ceylon 
 that the most essential features of its inherited physi- 
 ognomy seemed to have entirely disappeared. And all this 
 had been accomplished by the changed conditions — above 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 111 
 
 all, the increased humidity of the atmosphere — of this tree, 
 accustomed from its earliest infancy to the hot, dry climate 
 of the North African deserts. The stately dhum-palms in 
 the Villa Marina garden were grown from seed brought 
 from Egypt, and in the space of twenty years have at- 
 tained a height of thirty feet! 
 
 A large portion of the villa is taken up by an extensive 
 fernery. Ferns thrive excellently well in the natural forc- 
 ing-house climate of Ceylon, and Captain Bayley, in addi- 
 tion to a choice selection of the most beautiful native ferns, 
 has a number of remarkable exotics. Here one may at a 
 glance view the entire wealth of delicate and attractive 
 forms which are unfolded by these exquisite cryptograms. 
 5jTor is there a lack of tree ferns, selaginellas and lyco- 
 podise. 
 
 There are charms for the zoologist as well as for the 
 botanist in this miramare of Galla. A miniature menagerie 
 in the lower court contains a number of curious mammals 
 and birds, besides an ostrich from New Holland, several 
 owls and parrots, and a native ant-eater ( Mctnis ). The 
 latter, together with several curious fish, Captain Bayley 
 was kind enough to present to me; and on Christmas, after 
 I had gone to Belligam, he sent me another interesting gift 
 in the shape of a pair of loris ( Stenops ). But far more 
 attractive to me than these curious animals were the ex- 
 quisite corals that literally cover the rocks surrounding 
 Villa Marina; even the little harbor in which Captain Bay- 
 ley moors his boats, and the stone piers of the landing- 
 place are thickly coated with these lovely creatures. A 
 great many other marine animals that inhabit the Galle 
 coral banks are also to be found crowded into this limited 
 space: huge black sea-urchins and red sea-stars, multitudes 
 of crabs and fish, beautifully variegated snails and mussels, 
 curious worms of different classes, and whatever the motley 
 company may be called that lives, moves, and has its being 
 among the branches of the coral trees. For this reason 
 Captain Bayley’s villa, which he is willing to dispose of on 
 account of his removal to Colombo, is peculiarly adapted for 
 a zoological station, and is besides but half a mile from the 
 city. 
 
 If you ramble along the rocky shore in an easterly direc- 
 tion around the bay of Galle, you will gradually ascend one 
 
112 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 of the higher outlooks from which there is another beauti- 
 ful view of the city and harbor, and which is fitly named 
 “ Bella Vista. ” Here a Protestant clergyman, the Rev. Mr. 
 Marx, has built himself a handsome villa and established a 
 mission. 
 
 The thickly-wooded hill, which juts into the water in a 
 southerly direction, ends abruptly in a steep rocky bluff 
 that faces the light-tower on the opposite shore of the har- 
 bor. There was a project at one time to fortify this point, 
 but it was never carried into effect. Several cannon still 
 peer from the tangled masses of wanton creepers; a merry 
 company of apes were frolicking over the bluff the Sunday 
 afternoon I visited it. The narrow path I followed for 
 some distance led me along the steep rocky shore into a 
 dense thicket of pandanus trees and lianas. The thicket 
 is cloven by a deep ravine, along the bottom of which a 
 mountain brook leaps merrily towards the sea. Near its 
 mouth the stream falls into a natural basin of rock, and 
 this is a favorite bathing resort for the native inhabitants 
 of Galle. The day I came unexpectedly from the thicket 
 I surprised a dusky group of bathers, of both sexes, disport- 
 ing themselves in the cool water of the “ Onawatty Basin.” 
 
 There is another similar rock basin below the bluff; it is 
 called the “watering place,” because its abundant flow 
 supplies most of the ships with delicious drinking water. 
 The walls of rock which enclose this natural basin are over- 
 grown with thorny date-palms ( Phoenix sylvestris), snowy- 
 blossomed asclepias, and green-gray euphorbias {Euphorbia 
 antiquorum ), that resemble a huge “girandole cactus;” 
 they, together with their “wooden-legged” neighbors, the 
 pandanus trees, belong to the most peculiar growths of these 
 thickets. 
 
 Quite a different character from the savage rocks on the 
 south-east of Galle, is shown by the placid valleys extending 
 between the rows of wooded hills north of the city. Here 
 the idyllic character of the south-west coast again predomi- 
 nates. A favorite excursion in this direction is to “ Wack- 
 welle Hill,” on whose summit an excellent carriage road 
 winds through a beautiful grove of cocoa-palms. In the 
 grove, which is a favorite. resort for picnic parties from the 
 city, an enterprising speculator lately opened a restaurant, 
 and charges every visitor, whether he patronizes the estab- 
 
India and geylon. 
 
 113 
 
 \ 
 
 lishment or not, a sixpence for the lovely view. The latter 
 comprises the broad, verdure-clad valley of the Gindura 
 River, which empties into the sea half a mile north of the 
 city. Like a glittering ribbon of silver the river winds 
 among the crisp green rice fields, the “ paddy fields” that 
 cover the lower portions of the valley. The slopes on either 
 side are adorned with the most luxuriant shrubbery that is 
 animated everywhere by multitudes of apes and parrots. 
 In the distance rise the ever-present mountain ranges of 
 the highlands, and towering above them, the stately “ Hay- 
 cock,” which takes its name from its peculiar form, a 
 bell-shaped stack of hay. This peak is visible for a long 
 distance, and serves as a landmark for approaching ships. 
 
 But more enchanting than the land gardens in the 
 vicinity of Galle are the submarine gardens of coral that 
 encircle the walls of the fort, and I still regret that I was 
 not able to devote weeks instead of a few days to their 
 investigation. In this particular Ransonnet, the Vienna 
 artist, was more fortunate. Aided by the best of modern 
 appliances for marine investigations — among them an im- 
 proved diving-bell — he devoted several weeks to studying 
 the coral banks in Galle harbor, and has given an excellent 
 description of them in his illustrated work on Ceylon. 
 (Westermann, Brunswick, 1868.) Four colored plates, for 
 which he made the sketches under water in his diving-bell, 
 illustrate animal life in this mysterious coral world. 
 
 Nine years ago, when I visited the coral banks of the Red 
 Sea at Tur, on the Sinai coast, and for the first time saw 
 the wonderful formation of these enchanted submarine gar- 
 dens, my highest interest was excited, and I attempted in 
 my popular lectures on “Arabian Corals” (Berlin, 1876) 
 to briefly describe the organization of the remarkable ani 
 mals, and their connection with various other creatures. 
 The corals of Ceylon, with which I became acquainted in 
 Galle and Belligam, vividly recalled those delightful ex~ 
 periences, and enriched me with an abundance of new ones. 
 
 The Indian marine fauna of Ceylon is closely allied to 
 the Arabian fauna of the Red Sea, both having many 
 genera and species in common. But the number and 
 variety of different organisms is considerably larger in the 
 broad basin of the Indian Ocean, with its diversified coast 
 development, than in the circumscribed limits of the 
 
114 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 Arabian G-ulf, with its uniform and monotonous condi- 
 tions of life. I also found that, in spite of the apparent 
 similarity of the coral banks in these two regions, there 
 was considerable difference between their general physi- 
 ognomy. While the predominant hues of those at Tur are 
 a warm yellow, red, orange, and brown; the prevailing 
 color in the coral gardens of Ceylon is green — green in all 
 its various shades and tones. Yellow-green Alcyonia stand 
 beside sea-green Heteropora; malachite-green Anthophylla 
 beside olive-green Millepora; emerald-green Madrepora and 
 Astrese beside brown-green Montipora and Meandrina. 
 
 Eansonnet justly remarked the striking predominance 
 of green everywhere in Ceylon. Not only is the greater part 
 of this “ever-green isle” ornamented the whole year 
 through with an unfading carpet of verdure, but a majority 
 of the animals that inhabit it are conspicuously green. The 
 most numerous birds and lizards, butterflies and beetles 
 are decked in brilliant green, as are also many of the marine 
 creatures of widely different classes, namely, fish and crabs, 
 worms ( AmpMnomce ) and sea-roses (Actinia); why, even 
 animals that elsewhere seldom or never don the green livery, 
 here wear it as a constant uniform, as, for instance, several 
 members of the star-fish family ( Ophiura ), sea-urchins, sea- 
 cucumbers, giant mussels ( Tridacna ), spirula and others 
 of a similar character. An explanation of this phenomenon 
 may be deduced from the Darwinian theory of selection, 
 especially from the law of adaptation as applied to the 
 “sympathetic selection of color,” which I have demon- 
 strated in my Natural History of the Creation (seventh 
 ed., p. 235). The less the predominant color of an animal 
 differs from that of its environments, the less likely is it to 
 attract the notice of its foes, the easier it can unobserved 
 approach its prey, and consequently, the more it is likely 
 to be favored in the “ struggle for existence.” Natural se- 
 lection, therefore, constantly increases tl}e harmony between 
 the prevailing hue of the organism and that of its environ- 
 ments, because it is of advantage to the former. The coral 
 banks of Ceylon, with their predominant green inhabitants, 
 as aptly illustrate this theory as the green land animals 
 that animate the ever-verdant thickets of the island. But 
 the former surpass the latter in purity and brilliancy of 
 coloring. 
 
AVUIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 115 
 
 It would be a mistake to conclude that this excess of a 
 single color would become monotonous. On the contrary 
 one never wearies of its various tones and exquisite modi- 
 fications. Besides it enhances the beauty of various other 
 hues; the lovely red, yellow, violet, and blue tints of many 
 birds and insects are rendered doubly attractive by reason 
 of their contrast with the dark green forests of Ceylon. 
 So with the same brilliant hues of many of the sea an 7 ’ 
 mals on the coral banks. Especially conspicuous for their 
 splendid coloring and peculiar markings, are many of the 
 small fishes and crabs that seek nourishment among the 
 branches of the coral trees. Some of the corals are also 
 highly colored; for instance, many Procilloporce are rose- 
 colored, many star-corals are red or yellow, many Hete- 
 roporae and Madreporae are violet' and brown, etc. Unfort- 
 unately these exquisite tints are for the most part extremely 
 transitory, and vanish directly the corals are taken from 
 the water, and frequently on being merely touched. The 
 sensitive animals, those with widely extended cilia, and 
 magnificent with brilliant coloring, then suddenly contract, 
 and become dull, colorless, and shapeless. 
 
 If the gorgeous hues of the coral gardens and their motley 
 inhabitants charm the eye, then will it be completely fas- 
 cinated with the beauty and variety of form unfolded by 
 these diminutive creatures. As each one of the radiant 
 coral individuals may fitly be compared to a lovely flower, 
 so the united groups may be said to resemble trees and 
 shrubs. Formerly, indeed, corals were universally believed 
 to be actual plants, and it was a long time before the world 
 became convinced of their true animal nature. 
 
 At ebb tide, when the water is perfectly calm, the coral 
 gardens offer an enchanting and fairy-like spectacle. Near 
 the fort the water is so shallow that the keel of the boat- 
 grates upon the callous animal groups, and so clear that 
 you can plainly distinguish the coral trees from the top,of 
 the walls. Such an abundance of beautiful and remark- 
 able forms are concentrated in this narrow space that I 
 was able in a few days to make a splendid collection. 
 
 Mr. Scott’s garden, in which he kindly allowed me to 
 dry my collection, presented a very curious appearance. 
 The magnificent tropical plants seemed to vie with the 
 strange usurpers from the sea for the prize of beauty and 
 
116 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 brilliancy of coloring, while the happy naturalist, intoxi- 
 cated with delight, rambled among them, unable to decide 
 whether the prize should be given to the flora or the fauna. 
 The corals with all their exquisite varieties of form imitated 
 the most beautiful plant forms, while the orchids and spice- 
 lilies in turn simulated insects. The two great kingdoms 
 of the organic world here seemed to have made an ex- 
 change of form. 
 
 The majority of the corals I collected in Galle, and later 
 in Belligam, were obtained with the assistance of divers. 
 These I found as skilful and persevering as the Arabian 
 divers at Tur. Armed with strong iron chisels they would 
 loosen large blocks of the calcareous structures and carefully 
 raise them to the surface of the water. Many of the blocks 
 weighed from fifty to eighty pounds, and required no little 
 dexterity and labor to be safely deposited in the boat. 
 Some corals are so brittle they break with their own weight 
 when lifted from the water. It is, therefore, unfortunately 
 impossible to secure unbroken specimens of many of the 
 most attractive forms. Among the most brittle corals are 
 certain delicate Turlinarm whose convoluted stems resem- 
 ble inverted cones, while some of the many-pronged Het- 
 eroporm , are like colossal, hundred-branched stag-horns. 
 
 The entire attraction of a coral bank cannot be seen from 
 above, even though you float immediately over it at ebb 
 tide, and the water is so shallow your boat scrapes against 
 the points. A descent into the fluid element is therefore 
 necessary. Not possessing a diving-bell I attempted to 
 swim to the bottom, keeping my eyes open, and after con- 
 siderable practice accomplished this feat. Quite wonder- 
 ful, then, is the mystical green glimmer that illumines the 
 whole of this submarine world. The fascinated eye is 
 continually surprised by the most remarkable light-effects, 
 quite different from those of the familiar upper world with 
 its “ rosy radiance,” and doubly curious and interesting 
 are the forms and movements of all the thousand different 
 creatures swarming in the coral gardens. The diver is in 
 a new world. Here are multitudes of remarkable fishes, 
 crabs, snails, mussels, star-creatures, worms, etc., whose 
 nourishment consists exclusively of the flesh of the coral 
 animals on which their habitations are fixed; and these 
 coral-devourers — one may appropriately term them “para- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 117 
 
 sites” have, through adaptation to their peculiai mode of 
 
 life acquired the most astonishing forms, and have been 
 furnished with weapons of defence and offence of the most 
 
 singular shapes. _ „ 
 
 But if the naturalist may not ramble free from danger 
 among palms, neither may he swim unmolested among 
 coral banks. The Oceanidse, who jealously guard these 
 cool fairy regions of the sea, threaten the intiudei with a 
 thousand dangers. The fire-corals (millepora), as well as 
 the medusas swimming among their branches, sting, when 
 touched, like -the most resentful nettles. The floating cilia 
 of many of tho mailed fishes ( SyuctucGicc ) inflict wounds 
 that are as painful and dangerous as those of a scorpion. 
 Many crabs nip in the severest manner with their power- 
 ful claws. Black sea-urchins ( Diadema ) bore their barbed 
 spines, a foot long, into the flesh, where they break off and 
 cause annoying sores. But the worst damage to the ven- 
 turesome diver is inflicted by the corals themselves. The 
 thousands of sharp points on their calcareous structures 
 cut and abrade the skin in various ways. In all my 
 life I never had such an excoriated and lacerated body 
 as when coral-fishing at Bunto Balia, and I suffered fioni 
 the wounds for several weeks. But what are these transi- 
 tory sufferings to the naturalist whose whole life has been 
 enriched by the marvellous experiences and natural enjoy- 
 ments of his visit to the wonderful banks of coral ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Bellagemma. 
 
 Bella gemma — beautiful gem ! How often I think of 
 thee ’ How often thy matchless image hovers before my 
 vision and calls to mind a world of enchanting reminis- 
 cences ! Truly, if Ceylon is the diadem of India, then 
 art thou its most transcendent jewel ! Bella gemma della 
 
 Taprohane! . - 
 
 The kindly-disposed reader will, I hope, pardon me tor 
 the unwarrantable liberty I have taken with the orthogia- 
 phy of Belligam, which means something vastly different 
 
118 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 from “beautiful gem.” The original Singhalese name of 
 the village is Weligama (which is sand-village, from well , 
 sand, and gama, village). But the English always speak 
 of it as Belligam, and so we need only substitute an a for 
 the i to give the word an Italian sound and signification 
 which aptly describe the rare charms of the lovely spot. In 
 my remembrance at least “ Bella-gemma” will ever be con- 
 nected with a gem of transcendent lustre, while the sandy 
 beach that gave “ Weligama” its name is thrust into the 
 remote background. 
 
 After concluding to set up my zoological laboratory for 
 several months in Belligam, I naturally sought to in- 
 form myself as to its conditions of life. In spite of re- 
 peated inquiries, however, I could learn nothing but that 
 the village was pleasantly situated in a cocoa grove, that its 
 sheltered harbor abounded in coral, and that the rest-house 
 was fairly comfortable. The negative reports were: that- 
 neither European resident nor European civilization was 
 to be found in or near Belligam — all of which I soon found 
 to be very true. The mystic veil of adventure and strange- 
 ness enveloped my near future, and I confess that it was 
 not without a secret misgiving and a certain sense of inse- 
 curity that I bade adieu, on the 12th of December, to Galle 
 and European culture. 
 
 In Colombo and Kandy I had seen how near to aboriginal 
 nature obtruded the culture- varnish of Europe, and how 
 narrow was the dividing line between primitive forest and 
 densely-populated city. In the most southerly portions of 
 the island I might expect to find these conditions exagger- 
 ated ; consequently all my hopes and expectations were 
 centred on the official document I had received from the 
 governor, and on the tried good fortune which had never 
 yet deserted me. 
 
 Thus, full of expectation, I took my seat in the light 
 wagon which was to convey me along the south coast to 
 Belligam. It was five o’clock in the morning, and still 
 quite dark, when I drove out from the fort and through 
 the pettah along the harbor in a southerly direction. Softly 
 slumbering lay the Singhalese wrapped in white cotton 
 sheets on the palm mats in front of their silent huts. Not 
 a sound was to be heard. The deepest silence and solitude 
 lingered over the peaceful landscape. All this was suddenly 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 119 
 
 changed by the magic wand of the rising sun, whose first 
 gleams roused life and motion among the somnolent palms. 
 Several birds lifted up their voices in the tops of the trees; 
 the frolicsome palm squirrel quitted his nest and began his 
 morning promenade up and down the cocoa stems, and the 
 indolent “cabragoya,” the huge green lizard ( Hydro - 
 saurus ) stretched his lazy limbs on the verge of the pools. 
 In the gardens beyond tire limits of the city, nimble apes 
 sported among the fruit trees from which they had just 
 stolen their breakfast. 
 
 Soon the natives began to stir, and whole families assem- 
 bled to enjoy their morning bath along the public highway. 
 
 Among the many novel impressions which astonish the 
 European traveler in the equatorial regions, is the absence 
 of twilight — that dreamy transition period between day and 
 darkness which plays so important a part in our northern 
 romance and poetry. Scarcely has the radiant sun, that but 
 a moment before gilded the entire landscape with effulgent 
 glory, vanished into the blue waters of the ocean, when 
 swarthy night spreads her downy pinions over land and sea; 
 and broad daylight as quickly succeeds the dusk of early 
 morning. Here Aurora, the rosy-fingered goddess of the 
 dawn, has lost her sway. But all the more brilliant is the 
 young day for his unheralded approach, while the sunlight, 
 broken into a thousand rays by the feathery palm leaves, 
 is all the brighter for its sudden coming. The dewdrops 
 hang like diamonds from every leaf point, and the glossy 
 plumes of the bananas glitter in the sunshine like a thou- 
 sand mirrors. The gentle morning breeze from the sea gives 
 motion to the lovely plant 'forms, as well as refreshing cool- 
 ness to the traveler. Everything breathes with new, fresh 
 life and enjoyment. 
 
 The same features characterize the fifteen miles of excel- 
 lent road between Galle and Belligam that were described 
 between the former place and Colombo. Only here the 
 cocoa-groves seem even more luxuriant, more . abundant, if 
 possible, than farther north. Multitudes of climbing 
 plants festoon the palms with exquisite garlands of verdure 
 and bloom, while the banana groups, papayas, and bread- 
 fruit trees encircling the lowly huts, the dainty manihots 
 and yams in the hedges, the giant caladium and colocasia 
 alongside the road, all seem more flourishing, more vigor- 
 
120 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 ous than nearer Colombo. Besides, the cocoa-groves are 
 enlivened by numerous little ponds decked with lotus blos- 
 soms and other aquatic plants, and traversed by roistering 
 brooks whose banks are fringed with the loveliest ferns. 
 
 Then come more rocky hillocks cpvered with fra- 
 grant pandanus shrubs, alternating stretches of sand car- 
 peted with crimson convolvuli, white lilies, and other 
 showy flowers. At the mouths of the small coast streams 
 which intersect our road appear the stately bamboos 
 and sombre mangroves; among them the curious stemless 
 napa-palm with its feathered crest just lifted above the 
 water. 
 
 Thus the eye never wearies of the beautiful plant forms, 
 and I was almost sorry when, after a rapid drive of several 
 hours, my Tamil coachman pointed towards a distant pro- 
 montory that jutted far out into the sea and said: 
 
 “Weligama on the other side.” 
 
 Soon the detached huts along the road became more nu- 
 merous, and grouped themselves into village streets; on 
 either side were crisp green rice fields interspersed with 
 lovely groves. The stones in the walls are chiefly blocks of 
 coral. A sudden turn brought us in sight of an eminence 
 to the left of the road, on which stands an imposing Bud- 
 dha temple, called Agrabnddha-Ganni , a famous resort for 
 devout pilgrims. Close by, to the right of the road, and 
 shaded by a kitool palm, is a colossal statue (carved in relief 
 from the black rock) of one of the ancient kings, “Kustia 
 Baja.” His powerful frame is covered with scale-armor, 
 and crowned by a mitre. The ancient chronicles not only 
 extol his prowess as a conqueror, but laud him as the bene- 
 factor of Ceylon for teaching the Singhalese the use of the 
 cocoanut. Soon after passing this statue we drove through 
 a little bazaar, and in a few minutes more halted in front 
 of the long-dreamed-of rest-house of Belligam. 
 
 Around the gate of the wall which encloses the rest-house 
 garden was a dense throng of inquisitive human beings, 
 among whom I noticed several distinguished natives of the 
 highest caste. In pursuance of the governor’s command, 
 the president of the south province (or government agent, 
 which is his less imposing title) had informed the head-men 
 of Belligam of my intended visit, and had also directed 
 them to welcome me with becoming respect. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 121 
 
 The first head-man, or “ mudlyar,” a stately man of per- 
 haps sixty years, with a good-natured countenance and a 
 flourishing beard, approached the wagon and greeted me 
 with a ceremonious speech in broken English. He assured 
 me, with extreme politeness and dignity, that his whole 
 “korle” or village felt highly honored by my visit, and 
 that its four thousand dusky inhabitants would endeavor 
 to make my stay among them as pleasant as possible. As 
 for himself, he was at my command whenever I chose to 
 call upon his services. A vigorous drumming, accomplished 
 by several energetic tom-tom beaters in the background, on 
 the conclusion of this formal reception-speech, corroborated 
 its official importance. 
 
 After I had answered and thanked the mudlyar, he in- 
 troduced me to the important personages in his suite : the 
 second head-man, or Arachy, the collector of taxes, and the 
 doctor, as well as to some of the more distinguished citi- 
 zens of Belligam, all of whom assured me in the friendliest 
 manner that they were ready to assist me in any of my un- 
 dertakings. These handsome promises were likewise con- 
 firmed by the tom-tom beaters. The doctor and the col- 
 lector, both of whom spoke English fluently, interpreted 
 the Singhalese speeches, while their fellow-townsmen lis- 
 tened with eager attention, and curiously inspected the new 
 arrival and his luggage. 
 
 This ceremonious reception was all the more amusing 
 from the fact that the dress of the distinguished reception 
 committee was a comical mixture of the fashions of Europe 
 and Ceylon. The upper half of the person was clad ac- 
 cording to the latest approved mode of the former country, 
 and the lower half in strict accordance with the prevailing 
 Singhalese styles. Beginning with the head, our eyes are 
 delighted by a “chimney-pot” hat of irreproachable style 
 — of all head-gear, without a doubt, the most hideous, as 
 well as the most unpractical, but the Singhalese chief, 
 whose observant eye has noticed that his European brother 
 on all occasions of ceremony considers a head-covering of 
 this sort an indispensable emblem of his high position as 
 gentleman, would think it an unpardonable breach of eti- 
 quette were he to appear even in the hottest weather without 
 the imposing “chimney-pot” when ceremony demanded it. 
 His good-natured bronze face, which the narrow-brimmed 
 
122 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 hat scarcely shades, is framed by a heavy black beard 
 that is cut away from the chin; below it protrude the 
 points of a voluminous collar, around which is elaborately 
 knotted a gorgeous silk kerchief. Nor is the black “ dress- 
 coat,” with its concomitant white waistcoat, missing; the 
 latter is profusely ornamented with brilliant stones and 
 gold embroidery. Instead of the customary trousers, how- 
 ever, the dusky official wears the national covering for the 
 lower extremities, a red comboy — a wide apron that re- 
 minds one of the red petticoats worn by the German peas- 
 ant-girls. His dainty little feet are either entirely bare, 
 or protected merely by sandals. 
 
 After the friendly reception, which certainly promised 
 favorably for my stay in Belligam, my new protector led 
 the way through the gate into the pretty rest-house garden, 
 which is enclosed by a white wall. The first sight of my 
 new abiding-place surpassed my expectations. The rest- 
 house is a handsome, one-storied stone structure, with the 
 usual wide portico, white columns, and projecting red tile 
 roof. The broad green lawn stretching along the east front 
 of the house is ornamented by a superb teak tree whose 
 columnar trunk rises to a height of eighty or ninety feet. 
 Leguminous climbers are twined about it and hang in grace- 
 ful festoons from the lofty branches. On the south side of 
 the lawn a couple of cows are peacefully grazing in the 
 shade of the most magnificent bread-fruit trees, whose 
 gnarled trunks and far-spreading branches call to mind the 
 finest oaks of our northern climate; but the large, deeply- 
 lobed, dark green and glossy leaves, as well as the huge, 
 light green fruit, give them a far more imposing appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Between the umbrageous crowns of these artocarpus 
 giants is seen a smiling view of the sunny, v almost circular 
 harbor of Belligam, on which, at the moment, are numerous 
 vessels in full sail returning from a fishing expedition. 
 The rocky promontory opposite (to the south) is partly 
 covered with jangle and partly with cocoa-groves; the huts 
 of the fishing village of Mirissa dot its gleaming sands. In 
 the harbor, scarcely two minutes distant from the rest- 
 house, lies a charming rock islet, Gan-Duva , entirely covered 
 with elegant cocoa- palms. 
 
 Continuing our voyage of discovery around the rest- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 123 
 
 house, we enter the fruit garden, which is filled with 
 laughing bananas and manihots, and which extends from 
 the°west side of the house to a steep hill. At the foot of 
 the latter is an out-building which contains the kitchen, 
 and several store-rooms which will be of great service for 
 my collections. A dense thicket, populated by apes and 
 parrots, crowns the summit of the hill, whose steep slopes 
 are decked with luxuriant shrubbery and a carpet of blos- 
 soming creepers. Fascinated by the charming situation 
 and idyllic surroundings of the rest-house, and eager to 
 inspect its interior, I ascended the broad stone steps leading 
 to the front entrance. Here I was met by another saluta- 
 tory (half English, half Pali) from the steward of my new 
 abode, the aged rest-house keeper. With arms crossed on 
 his breast, his bronze frame bent almost double, the old 
 fellow came toward me, and in the most submissive manner 
 hoped I would he satisfied with the simple accommodations 
 of the rest-house; whatever of rice and curry, of fruits and 
 fishes the village could supply, that should be provided for 
 my entertainment; nor should there be a lack of willing 
 service. In short, I was to have everything that would 
 make me comfortable while I remained in Belligam. All 
 this, Jan d much more was handsomely promised by the old 
 man in a well-constructed speech that was flavored with a 
 number of philosophical phrases. As I looked into his 
 broad, good-natured face, with its short, turned-up nose, 
 small eyes, thick lips, and long, tangled, silvery beard, 
 there suddenly occurred to me the familiar bust of Socrates 
 which always recalled the head of a satyr. This resem- 
 blance, and my inability to remember the interminable 
 Singhalese name of my host, caused me to straightway dub 
 him Socrates. The rechristening was amply justified 
 later, for the old man proved himself in various ways a 
 worthy follower of his illustrious Greek prototype. 
 
 And now it seemed as if the familiar impressions of 
 classic antiquity which greeted me on the very threshold 
 of my idyllic abode were to continue to haunt me. When 
 Socrates conducted me across the portico into the wide 
 entrance hall, there, with arms uplifted, in an attitude of 
 supplication, stood a lovely nude bronze figure that could 
 be no other than the celebrated statue of the boy at prayer, 
 the “ Adorante.” What was my surprise, to see this ex- 
 
124 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 quisite bronze image suddenly quicken, drop its arms, kneel 
 at my feet, lift its eyes beseechingly to my face, then bow 
 its beautiful head in mute submission until the long black 
 locks lay on the stone floor. 
 
 The boy — so Socrates informed me — who was a member 
 of one of the lowest castes, the Eodiya, had lost his Bar- 
 ents when a mere child, and had been befriended out of 
 compassion by the rest-house keeper. He was intended 
 for my personal service, and would have nothing to do but 
 wait exclusively on me; he was a good-natured lad, and 
 would be sure to perform his duties faithfully. In answer 
 to my request for the name of my page, Socrates informed 
 me that it was, “Gamameda” (village-centre: garna , vil- 
 lage; and meda , centre). Naturally Ganymede instantly 
 substituted itself, for a nobler namesake of Jove’s favorite 
 than this lithe-limbed, symmetrical youth could not have 
 been found. Besides, Gamameda soon developed a wonder- 
 ful efficiency as cup-bearer. ' He would not allow any one 
 but himself to open a cocoanut for me, or fetch me a glass 
 of palm wine. I was therefore justified in changing his 
 name, as well as that of his master. Among the many 
 valued images that animate my recollections of this trop- 
 ical paradise, Ganymede is one of the most highly prized. 
 He not only performed his menial duties with extreme con- 
 scientiousness and attention, but he exhibited an attach- 
 ment for my person and a readiness to serve me that was 
 really touching. An unfortunate member of the Eodiya 
 caste, the poor boy had from his infancy been subjected to 
 the contempt of his fellows, and had been the object of 
 constant unkindness and even cruelty; with the exception 
 of old Socrates (who at times also treated him rather 
 harshly), no one had taken kindly notice of him. Conse- 
 quently my gentleness towards him from the very first mo- 
 ment was as novel to him as it was delightful. He was 
 specially grateful for the following service: A few days 
 before my arrival he had run a thorn deep into his foot; 
 in drawing it out a fragment had broken ofi and remained 
 in the wound. I removed it after considerable trouble, and 
 treated the painful wound with carbolic acid so success- 
 fully that it healed in a short time. From that hour the 
 grateful Ganymede followed me like my shadow, and 
 sought to read my wishes in my eyes. Scarcely had I 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 125 
 
 risen from my bed when he was beside me with a freshly- 
 plucked cocoanut, from which he offered me a delicious 
 morning drink. At table he never took his eyes from my 
 face, and always anticipated my every wish. When at 
 work, he would clean my anatomical instruments and the 
 microscope lenses. But happy Ganymede, when we sallied 
 out to the cocoa-groves, or the sea-shore, to sketch or col- 
 lect, to hunt or fish. On such occasions, if I allowed him 
 to carry the paint-box or photographic camera, to sling the 
 gun or the botanical case over his shoulder, he would strut 
 after me with a beaming face, and look proudly around at 
 the wondering Singhalese, who saw in him only the de- 
 spised Rodiya slave; to them such distinction was utterly 
 incomprehensible. My interpreter, the grudging William, 
 was especially aggrieved, and sought every opportunity to 
 slander Ganymede, but soon found that I would not toler- 
 ate any injury to my favorite. Many of the handsomest 
 and most valuable acquisitions in my collections I owe to 
 the untiring zeal and skill of this despised Rodiya. With 
 the keen eye, dextrous hand, and fleetness of motion com- 
 mon to the Singhalese children, he knew how to secure the 
 soaring butterfly and the darting fish. When hunting in 
 the forest, he would climb like a cat to tops of the tallest 
 trees, or dart through the thickest jungle with a nimble- 
 ness that was truly marvellous. 
 
 Although the Rodiya caste to which Gamameda belongs, 
 is of purely Ceylonese origin, it is regarded by the higher 
 castes on the island (notwithstanding the fact that caste 
 distinctions are not so rigid here as on the mainland) with 
 as much abhorrence as the Pariahs in India. Its members 
 perform only such labor as is considered degrading — to 
 which, singularly enough, is reckoned the washing of 
 clothes — and no Singhalese of higher caste will have any 
 association whatever with a Rodiya. 
 
 As if kind mother nature wished to atone for the unjust 
 treatment of her outcast children, she bestows on them not 
 only the blessing of perfect contentment, but endows them 
 with the graceful gift of beauty — a benefice that may be 
 constantly admired, as the Rodiyas wear only the most 
 necessary clothing. 
 
 The boys and young men, as well as the younger girls, 
 are, on an average, more beautifully formed and of nobler 
 
126 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 feature than the rest of the Singhalese — circumstances 
 which perhaps account for the envy and hatred of the 
 higher castes. 
 
 As a general thing the stronger sex in Ceylon is also the 
 handsomer, especially the youths, whose noble Aryan fea- 
 tures are distinguished by a certain dreaminess of expres- 
 sion that is very attractive. Their delicate mouths are 
 particularly beautiful, while their dark, soulful eyes are 
 eloquent with promises their dull brains are unable to ful- 
 fil; added to these perfections is a perfectly oval face framed 
 by luxuriant raven tresses. As neither boys nor girls wear 
 clothes until their eighth or ninth year — or at most only a 
 narrow cloth around the loins — they furnish the most suit- 
 able “life” for the Eden-like landscape; and the traveler 
 frequently imagines he sees before him an animated Greek 
 god. Ransonnet, on Plate IV., in his work on Ceylon, has 
 a sketch of a fourteen-year-old Siniapu boy that illustrates 
 Aie characteristics above mentioned. Ganymede is very 
 like the sketch, only his features are even more delicate and 
 girlish, and remind one of the lovely face of Mignon. 
 
 In old age the charm of this mild and attractive phy- 
 siognomy is entirely lost — especially is this the case with 
 the gentler sex — and a certain harsh expression or dulness 
 takes its place. Frequently the bones of the face protrude, 
 and give it anything but a pleasing appearance. A con- 
 spicuous illustration of this peculiar deformity was old 
 Babua, the third personality presented to me in the rest- 
 house of Belligam, in the character of its cook. The lean 
 old fel 'ow with his shrivelled limbs Sore no resemblance 
 whatever to the rotund, corpulent personage who reigns in 
 the kitchens of our imagination. He was more like the 
 quadrumanous ancestors of man, and when the wide mouth 
 in the skinny brown face was distended by a grinning 
 smile the resemblance to an old ape became all the more 
 striking. It was therefore a comical coincidence that 
 Babidn should be the systematic name of a branch of the 
 ape family ( Cynocephalus babuiri). Moreover, the old 
 fellow, with his powerful under jaw, and low, receding fore- 
 head (perhaps from negro blood in his veins) was a very 
 harmless and good-natured creature. His ambition was 
 satisfied if he succeeded in discovering a new kind of curry 
 as a concomitant to the dish of rice he daily set before me, 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 127 
 
 and I praised the mess. I could have wished that he — as 
 well as old Socrates — would have paid more attention to 
 cleanliness in the primitive kitchen. 
 
 To the three permanent occupants of the rest-house w~as 
 added a fourth ministering spirit in the person of William, 
 my interpreter, whom I had brought with me from Galle. 
 My English friends in the latter place had urged me to 
 hire several servants: one to act as interpreter, one to assist 
 me hunt, a valet, etc., etc.; but, having seen quite enough 
 of the trouble and vexation a retinue of hirelings can cre- 
 ate for their master, I did not take kindly to such a divi- 
 sion of labor. I was very glad, therefore, to find that Will- 
 iam could combine the functions of interpreter, huntsman, 
 valet, and assistant in general. He had been a soldier, had 
 served in the capacity of body-servant to an officer — and 
 that he had done it well was conclusively proved by docu- 
 mentary evidence — was a tolerably skilful and willing fel- 
 low. Being a pure-blood Singhalese, however, he was en- 
 dowed with the national aversion to work in general and 
 manual toil in particular; he considered it mere prudence 
 and wisdom to expend on every task he was called upon to 
 perform as much time and as little energy as possible. All 
 his interests and ambition- — like most of the Singhalese 
 youths — were centred in the artistic arrangement of his 
 coiffure. To wash and comb, to dry and oil his long black 
 hair, then to twist it into a perfectly regular coil, and fasten 
 it with a large tortoise-shell comb at the back of his head, 
 was for William a most important six-act drama, for the 
 performance of which several hours every morning were re- 
 quired. To recover from the exhaustion to which these 
 arduous exertions always reduced him, an additional hour 
 or two was of course necessary. His duties as interpreter 
 and valet were performed with scrupulous care; but he 
 would indignantly refuse to degrade himself by labor which 
 required a great amount of physical exertion: on such oc- 
 casions he would assure me with extreme hauteur that he 
 was no “cooly.” His trifling domestic tasks were per- 
 formed with tolerable neatness and dispatch, and he was 
 always ready and willing to assist me with the microscope. 
 
 The fair and curious reader will doubtless inquire why I 
 have not mentioned the feminine inhabitants of the Belli- 
 gam rest-house. Unfortunately I am unable to say any- 
 
128 
 
 INDIA AND CETLON. 
 
 tiling about them, for the simple reason that there were 
 none there. Not only the cook, Babua, and the house- 
 keeper, Socrates, and the maid, William, but the laundress 
 that fetched my clothes every week, to beat them on the 
 stones in the river, all were of the masculine gender, as 
 are most of the servants in India. Nor was there much to 
 be seen of the fairer sex in Weligama — but of this more 
 hereafter. 
 
 XL 
 
 A Zoological Laboratory 11* Ceylon. 
 
 My first task in Belligam was, with the assistance of the 
 four ministering spirits, to establish myself as comfortably 
 as possible in the rest-house, and to set up a zoological lab- 
 oratory. The house contained three spacious apartments, 
 of which the middle one — the dining-room — served as sit- 
 ting-room for the casual guests (especially for the govern- 
 ment officials who might happen to patronize the house); 
 a large dining-table, two benches, and several chairs com- 
 pleted the furnishing. The large rooms adjoining the din- 
 ing-saloon on either side were guest-chambers with huge 
 Indian bedsteads, in which the restless dreamer might on 
 his own axis comfortably describe a complete circle with- 
 out touching the edges with his toes. The voluminous 
 mosquito nets stretched over them doubtless once rendered 
 excellent service, but at present only the evidences of 
 past utility remained. I found the mattresses also in a 
 condition that rendered it advisable for me to adopt the 
 native fashion of sleeping on palm mats. In addition to 
 the giant bedsteads in the guest-chambers, there was a 
 small table with the necessary toilet appliances, and a cou- 
 ple of chairs. The long windows in the white walls were, 
 as everywhere in the tropics, without glass, but could be 
 closed by the green wooden jalousies. The floor was laid 
 with flagstones. I selected the lighter chamber facing 
 die south, from which, through the door opening on a 
 veranda, there was a lovely view of the harbor. I would 
 have preferred to use this room solely as a work room and 
 zoological laboratory, and the one facing north as a sitting 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 129 
 
 and bedroom; but one of them had to be reserved for trav- 
 elers. The primitive simplicity of the rest-house furnish- 
 ing compelled me to provide some additional and absolutely 
 necessary household articles, without which it would have 
 been impossible for me to accomplish my work. 
 
 First of all I required large tables and benches, as well 
 as cupboards and chests of drawers. To procure these 
 was by no means an easy task, and although my new 
 friends assisted me. to the best of their ability, my labora- 
 tory, when at last ready for occupation, lacked many 
 things. The first chief had supplied me with boards 
 which, when laid on my empty boxes, served as shelves for 
 bottles and jars. The second chief gave me two old tables. 
 The tax-gatherer (who, by the way, was a very polite and 
 accomplished person) loaned me a pair of small cupboards, 
 in which I could lock my valuable instruments, chemicals 
 and poisons. The schoolmaster furnished a set of small 
 book-shelves, and in this manner the laboratory was made 
 tolerably practicable for my purpose by the worthy Belli- 
 gamians, who desired nothing in payment for the small fa- 
 vors but the privilege of satisfying their curiosity. This, 
 however, soon assumed such enormous proportions that it 
 became extremely annoying and robbed me of much valu- 
 able time. 
 
 Aside from these most necessary household articles 
 (which are considered superfluous luxuries by most of the 
 Singhalese), I could procure little or nothing that would 
 be of use to me in Belligam; I was therefore heartily glad 
 that I had brought from Europe all the requirements for 
 my domestic economy, as well as for my zoological investi- 
 gations. True, there was in the village a so-called carpen- 
 ter, also a species of locksmith whose services I might 
 frequently have required. But the primitive character of 
 their tools sufficiently proved the quality of workmanship 
 I might expect from them. 
 
 It soon became evident that I would have to do everything 
 for myself, for every time I called one of these Singhalese 
 artisans to my aid I was obliged to remodel his work from 
 the very beginning. As for letting them attempt to repair 
 any of my instruments — and unfortunately they frequently 
 needed it — it was entirely out of the question. 
 
 However, in spite of all hindrances I succeeded in a few 
 
130 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 days in transforming the roomy guest-chamber into a 
 fairly comfortable laboratory adequate to the requirements 
 of our modern marine zoology. Microscopes and anatomi- 
 cal instruments were adjusted; a dozen large and several 
 hundred small vials and jars were methodically arranged in 
 rows on the shelves; the alcohol was decanted and the taste 
 disguised with oil of turpentine, to preserve it from the 
 bibulous inclinations of my servants. One of the two cup- 
 boards contained the domestic apothecary shop, as well as 
 some fire-arms, ammunition, and the “magician’s kitch- 
 en,” which comprised the different micro-chemicals, photo- 
 graphic appliances, poisons for preparing and preserving 
 animals, etc. In the other cupboard were stored books, 
 papers, drawing materials, oil and water colors, and a 
 number of valuable and fragile instruments. The legs of 
 these two cupboards, as well as those of the tables, stood in 
 earthen vessels, which were filled with water to protect 
 them from the incursions of destructive ants and termites. 
 Nets and fishing appliances occupied one corner of the 
 room; guns and botanical cases another; in the third stood 
 the soldering apparatus and tin boxes; while the fourth 
 corner was entirely taken up by the huge bedstead which, 
 during the day, served as a work table. 
 
 Along the walls were ranged the empty chests for the 
 collections, as well as the tin boxes which contained my 
 wearing apparel. Above them nails were driven into the 
 wall on which to hang the barometer, thermometer, scales, 
 and a number of articles of daily use. Thus, in a few days 
 the rest-house of Belligam was made to look like the ma- 
 rine laboratory I had established for a six months’ sojourn 
 in Messina twenty- two years ago, and like the one on the 
 Canary Island of Lanzarote fifteen years ago — with this differ- 
 ence: My zoological and artistic outfits this time were more 
 complete and varied, while, on the other hand, the comforts 
 of my domestic economy were much simpler and of a more 
 primitive character. However, I was consoled for the lack 
 of many conveniences, by the fact that I was only six de- 
 grees distant from the equator, and that no one in Ceylon 
 had ever before enjoyed the use of so fine a laboratory for 
 marine zoology — a thought that made me all the more 
 eager to begin work. 
 
 The difficulties which attend labor of this sort in the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 131 
 
 tropics, especially the subtle investigation of the structure 
 and development of the lower marine fauna, are recognized 
 and deplored by all the naturalists that have undertaken 
 such tasks in the last decades. Consequently, I was pre- 
 pared to meet with hindrances, but soon found that they 
 were infinitely greater and of a more varied character than 
 I had imagined. Not only the excessively hot and moist 
 climate with all its destructive influences, but existence in 
 an uncultured village, among a half-civilized people, as well 
 as a lack of many accustomed conveniences of civilization, 
 offer a thousand obstructions to the investigation and col- 
 lecting of natural curiosities. 
 
 I often thought regretfully of the many advantages and 
 conveniences which I had enjoyed while engaged in zoolog- 
 ical studies on the Mediterranean shore, and which would 
 be so sorely missed here. 
 
 One of the greatest difficulties was to find a serviceable 
 boat, as well as skilled fishermen to man it. The peculiar 
 canoes which attracted my notice when I arrived at Co- 
 lombo, and which have already been described, are the 
 only kind in use along the Ceylon coast, except, of course, 
 in the harbors of the larger cities. These canoes, which 
 are from twenty to twenty-five feet long, are so narrow 
 that a grown person sitting in them cannot place his feet 
 side by side. Consequently you are wedged as it were into 
 these boats, which are aptly described as “leg-pinchers” 
 by my friend Professor H. Vogel of Berlin, who has had 
 occasion to use them. Another fault with these canoes is 
 the characteristic outrigger which, while it lends security 
 to the craft and prevents it from upsetting, also prevents 
 it from turning quickly, and compels you to keep one side 
 of the canoe always towards the shore, or the object you 
 wish to approach. There is no rudder, and the propelling 
 power is an oar which is used by the oarsman sitting in the 
 end of the canoe, first on one side (lien on the other. The 
 smaller canoes are manned by two, and the larger ones by 
 four or six natives. In addition to the oar there is a low 
 mast, to which is attached a large four-cornered sail. The 
 latter renders excellent service in a fair wind, when the 
 light canoe, whose narrow beam offers little resistance to the 
 waves, glides like an arrow across the water. I have fre- 
 quently traveled ten or twelve miles in an hour in one of 
 
132 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 these outrigger canoes — as rapidly as in a swift stean shin. 
 Should the wind blow too vigorously, so that the boat ca- 
 reens too much to one side, the nimble boatmen clamber 
 with ape-like dexterity along the slender outriggers, and 
 squat on the balance-log to give it additional weight. 
 
 To dispose of a chest containing large glass jars, and the 
 different instruments required to secure pelagic marine 
 animals — especially medusa — in such a craft was, of course, 
 impossible. I was therefore obliged to construct a sort of 
 platform on the canoe, on which I might sit comfortably 
 or move freely about. On either end of the platform were 
 the chests, containing bottles and jars of all sizes, securely 
 fastened with coir ropes. Kopes of the same material are 
 used to lash together the different parts of the canoe; in- 
 deed, the natives in building their boats use neither iron 
 nor nails — only wood and cocoa fibre. 
 
 In effecting these improvements in my canoe, as well as 
 in hiring and instructing the native boatmen, I was greatly 
 assisted by the second head man of Belligam, the Arachy, 
 Abnyawira , to whom I am further indebted for other valu- 
 able services. 
 
 The government agent of the South Province had told 
 me about the Arachy’s superior qualifications, and had spe- 
 cially recommended me to his favor. I found him an un- 
 usually intelligent and enterprising Singhalese of perhaps 
 forty years, whose interests and information lifted him far 
 above the majority of his countrymen. There was none of 
 that stupid indifference which characterizes most of the 
 Singhalese, about the Arachy. He was keenly interested 
 in education, and sought by every means in his power to 
 further its advantages among his people. He spoke Eng- 
 lish fairly well, and expressed himself with a clearness and 
 intelligence that frequently astonished me. Indeed the 
 Arachy was even a philosopher — of a.higher grade than old 
 Socrates at the rest-house — and I remember with great plea- 
 sure the many and frequently very complex arguments we 
 used to have on widely different subjects. Free from the 
 superstitions and dread of spectres common to his Buddhist 
 countrymen, and with a ready glance for the wonders of 
 nature and their explanation by natural causes, the Arachy 
 had developed into an independent free-thinker, and was 
 delighted when he found that I was able to solve many of 
 
V 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 133 
 
 the problems which had sorely puzzled him. I can see him 
 now, the dignified, handsome, bronze-hued man, with his ex- 
 pressive and regular features ! How his black eyes sparkled 
 with intelligence when I elucidated some natural phenome- 
 non, and how his soft persuasive tones would plead for fur- 
 ther enlightenment on this or that problematical question! 
 In him I found all the good and commendable qualities of 
 the* Singhalese character, the gentle manner and natural 
 reserve, developed in their most attractive form; and when 
 I people the verdant paradise of my recollections with the 
 slender forms of its native inhabitants, the Arachy and 
 Ganymede ever appear side by side as ideal types of that 
 enchanted realm. The Arachy’s nephew, a well-informed 
 young man of seventeen years or more, a student in the 
 Colombo normal school, who was spending his vacation at 
 Belli gam, was also a very useful and agreeable companion. 
 Assisted by him and the Arachy I was able to secure four 
 of the best and most skilful fishermen in Belligam. I paid 
 them five rupees for every expedition, and when they were 
 required to dive to the coral banks, or when we were out on 
 the water over half a day, I always added a couple of rupees 
 to the sum agreed upon. At first I experienced considera- 
 ble trouble with my uninitiated assistants, and when I 
 dragged the fine-meshed pelagic net along the surface of 
 the water, or showed them the tiny medusae and polyps, 
 the siphonophora and ctenophora, to secure which was evi- 
 dently my main object, their looks plainly indicated that 
 they thought me a lunatic. However, they gradually, and 
 with commendable patience and indulgence, learned what 
 it was I wanted, and then became quite as eager to enrich 
 my collection with rare and beautiful specimens as I was 
 myself. Two of the men were especially useful in diving 
 to the coral banks; to their perseverance and ingenuity I 
 am indebted for many of the lovely corals and curious ani- 
 mals native to the submarine gardens which I brought 
 with me from Belligam. 
 
 But a more formidable obstruction to my pelagic fishing 
 • ban the canoe and its crew, was presented by the tropical 
 climate — that relentless and invincible enemy of the natural- 
 ist, who frustrates so many of his designs and baffles so 
 many of his undertakings. This I was destined to experi- 
 ence the very first time I fished for marine treasures in the 
 
134 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON j 
 
 bay at Belligam. Detained by the numerous arrangements 
 I was obliged to make for the expedition, I was not ready 
 to depart for the fishing ground until nine o’clock. By 
 that time the merciless tropical sun burned in the deep 
 blue cloudless heavens with a radiance that transformed 
 the perfectly smooth surface of the water into a gleaming 
 mirror. The glare was intolerable to the eyes, and I was 
 compelled to put on blue goggles if I wanted to keep them 
 open. Hoping to find the temperature several degrees 
 lower on the water I ordered my men to row quickly out ; 
 but the intense heat seemed rather to increase than dimin- 
 ish, while the dazzling mirror, unstirred by a breath of air, 
 seemed a vast expanse of molten lead. Bathed in perspir- 
 ation I fished for perhaps an hour when I became perfectly 
 exhausted. My strength deserted me, there was a hum- 
 ming in my ears, while the increasing pressure on my tem- 
 ples made me apprehensive of sunstroke. As my clothes 
 were already wringing wet with perspiration, I decided to 
 try a remedy that had given me instant relief on similar 
 occasions. I dashed a couple of pailfuls of sea water over 
 my head, and covered it with a wet towel, on which I 
 fastened my wide-brimmed sola hat. The result of this 
 treatment was satisfactory, and I afterwards had recourse 
 to it whenever the oppressive heat caused a return of the 
 stupefying headache. With the water and the atmosphere 
 both at a temperature of 22-26° R. such a drenching of 
 the head with vaporable water is very beneficial. Even the 
 wearing of wet clothes for several hours, which in our cool 
 climate would give one a serious cold, is here as pleasant as 
 it is harmless. 
 
 The first expedition on the Bay of Belligam convinced 
 me that it abounded in pelagic animals of widely dissimi- 
 lar classes. The jars into which the swimming inhabitants 
 of the surface water were emptied from the gauze net were 
 quite full after a few hours’ fishing. Among thousands of 
 infinitesimal crabs and salpce floated delicate medusae and 
 siphonophora; multitudes of snail and mussel larvae glided, 
 by means of their dainty streamers, among fluttering 
 sea-butterflies and Pteropoda; while hundreds of coral and 
 crustacean larvae were falling prey to rapacious arrow- 
 worms. ( Sagitta ). The majority of these organisms are 
 colorless and of the crystalline transparency of the sea- 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 135 
 
 water in which they struggle desperately for existence. 
 (According to Darwin’s theory of selection, the transpar- 
 ent condition of these pelagic “glass-animals” is the re- 
 sult of this struggle for existence.) 
 
 Although some of the species found here were new to 
 me, I was familiar with most of the genera, for the prolific 
 Mediterranean — especially the famous Strait of Messina — 
 furnishes just such pelagic curiosities when the conditions 
 are favorable for surface-water fishing. Still, among the 
 old acquaintances I met with in the Bay of Belligam, I no- 
 ticed a number of new and attractive forms that provoked 
 immediate microscopic observation. Consequently I ordered 
 my men to row quickly back to the shore, and while we were 
 scudding through the water I devoted myself to an exam- 
 ination my newly-acquired treasures. To my great disap- 
 pointment I found at least half of the delicate captives dead 
 and dying; some were overtaken by death in half an hour, 
 others in less than fifteen minutes after they were taken 
 from the bay. Their crystal bodies speedily clouded, and 
 formed a white powdery mass on the bottom of the jars, 
 and before we reached the shore I could detect the peculiar 
 odor which proceeds from gelatinous bodies in a state of 
 decomposition. In the Mediterranean, under similar cir- 
 cumstances, death is not followed by decomposition until 
 after a period of five to ten hours; here, with a higher 
 temperature by several degrees it took place in half an 
 hour’s time. Alarmed by this discovery I hastened our re- 
 turn to the land which we reached shortly before twelve 
 o’clock. Here another difficulty presented itself: notwith- 
 standing the midday sun’s fierce heat, almost the entire 
 population of Belligam was assembled on the strand to 
 learn the result of my extraordinary method of fishing. 
 Each one of the dusky throng wanted to see what I had 
 caught, and wanted to know what I was going to do with 
 it — or, rather, in what shape I was going to devour it; for, 
 that sea-creatures were captured for any other purpose than 
 a dietary one of course never entered their heads. Conse- 
 quently the amazement of the inquisitive natives, among 
 whom I made my w r ay with great difficulty, was by no 
 means small when they beheld merely the white sediment 
 on the bottom of the large glass jars, and the few tiny pe- 
 lagic creatures that were still actively disporting themselves 
 
136 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 in their new quarters. Afterwards the Arachy informed 
 me that his fellow citizens could not understand, or in- 
 deed believe, that I was engaged in merely scientific work; 
 most of them detected behind all this mysterious business 
 some sort of witchcraft, the preparing of magic potions, 
 etc, while the realistic Belligamians believed I was trying 
 to invent a new curry. The still more enlightened were 
 confident that I was simply a European lunatic. 
 
 Thus a valuable quarter of an hour was lost before I 
 could force my way through the curious skeptics to the 
 rest-house, and — as was my wont — to sort and distribute 
 the thousand dainty creatures in glass vessels of fresh water. 
 
 By this time at least nine tenths of my treasures were 
 dead, and among them the new ones whose forms had par- 
 ticularly interested me. The remaining tenth were already 
 so exhausted that death seemed imminent at any moment, 
 and in a few hours my jars were in fact nothing but huge 
 receptacles for pelagic corpses ! The following days I 
 sought by every means to counteract the fatal influence of 
 the tropical sun, but was only partially successful. It was 
 simply impossible to maintain the necessary low tempera- 
 ture of the water. I was convinced that the first and most 
 important requirements for the successful observation of 
 marine fauna in so hot a country as Ceylon would be cool 
 rooms and refrigerating water vessels. As large quanti- 
 ties of ice, which was formerly imported from North Amer- 
 ica, are now manufactured in Colombo by an artificial 
 process at much less expense, it would not be a very diffi- 
 cult matter to arrange cool apartments, and refrigerated 
 aquaria. But a considerable sum of money would be nec- 
 essary for such a project, and that is not at my disposal. 
 A second important requirement for successful zoological 
 study in these refrigerated work-rooms would be glass win- 
 dows — conveniences which are almost entirety unknown in 
 Ceylon. 
 
 In the rest-house at Belligam, as well as in all the dwell- 
 ings on the island, their place is supplied by wooden shut- 
 ters or jalousies, at the top of which, as well as along the 
 edges of the ceiling, and above the doors, are wide spaces 
 to admit the air. For the purpose of ventilation these 
 openings are of course very practical and comfortable, but 
 for the naturalist, who is obliged to use a microscope, they 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON \ 
 
 137 
 
 are as objectionable as detrimental. All sorts of winged 
 and creeping insects have free ingress; the most trouble- 
 some are the swarms of flies, gnats, ants, and termites. 
 Then the draught wafts your papers about, covers the instru- 
 ments with dust, and frequently a more vigorous breeze dis- 
 places everything in the room. No less detrimental are the 
 jalousies themselves to a good light which is one of the 
 most important requisites for microscopic examinations — 
 especially when it is necessary to increase the magnifying 
 power. Very often the condition of the sun and wind 
 made it impossible for me to find a suitable corner for my 
 work-table — either in the darkened room, or on the all-too- 
 breezy veranda, whose wide, projecting roof was also a de- 
 cidedly objectionable feature. 
 
 To these and various other local obstructions to zoologi- 
 cal study, may be added the annoyances arising from the 
 curiosity of my neighbors. Never having seen any of the 
 wonderful instruments I had brought to their village, the 
 worthy Belligamians naturally wanted to know all about 
 them, what they were intended for, and how I used them. 
 In short, everything I did was for them a continual source 
 of amusement. Like all semi-civilized peoples, the Sin- 
 ghalese are in many respects mere children. Beneficent na- 
 ture has made the conditions of their paradisal island so 
 favorable that the struggle for existence on it is compara- 
 tively easy, while actual toil is almost unknown. Innocent 
 games and chatter form their principal amusements, conse- 
 quently every new object becomes a source of interest. The 
 loo-frequent visits of my inquisitive neighbors at last became 
 such an intolerable nuisance that I was obliged to speak of 
 it to some of the more important personages in the village. 
 Steps were at once taken to remedy the evil; the masses 
 were excluded from the rest-house, but the visits of the im- 
 portant personages before mentioned became all the more 
 frequent and of longer duration. The “doctor” was es- 
 pecially interested in my microscope; the “tax-gatherer” 
 took a wonderful fancy to my paint-box; the “ magistrate” 
 professed great ad miration -for the anatomical instruments 
 (as implements of torture, perhaps !); the “schoolmaster” 
 liked to examine my books, and so on. Everything I 
 owned was felt, tested, and examined a thousand times, and 
 quite as many nonsensical questions asked about each arti- 
 
138 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 cle. Seeing how intensely curious my constantly increas- 
 ing collections made the worthy Belligamians, I undertook 
 to satisfy what I believed to be an earnest desire for infor- 
 mation. At stated hours on certain days I delivered a se- 
 ries of formal lectures with copious illustrations— an expe- 
 dient which had been employed with flattering success 
 while fishing on the Mediterranean — but my native audi- 
 ences would not believe half I told them, nor would they 
 try to understand what 1 took great pains to explain. I 
 soon became convinced that the childish inquisitiveness of 
 the Singhalese had not yet developed into a true desire for 
 knowledge, and that the causative coherence of phenomena 
 had very little attraction for these innocent children ! 
 
 It would weary the reader were I to enumerate allt he 
 hindrances that opposed my zoological labors in the primi- 
 tive laboratory at Belligam. Without the aid of a compe- 
 tent European assistant, I was obliged to depend entirely 
 on my own exertions, and much valuable time was lost in 
 the performance of extra work, which would not have been 
 the case had I been engaged in a similar task on the Euro- 
 pean coast. Besides, the time I had to spend in Ceylon 
 was entirely too short for the accomplishment of what I had 
 originally intended: a series of coherent investigations of 
 the history of evolution. Consequently, what I had at first 
 deplored — that the number of new and peculiar sea animals 
 in the Bay of Belligam was not nearly so large as I had 
 expected — proved in the end a real consolation. The exten- 
 sive marine investigations of the last twenty years (espe- 
 cially those conducted by the Challenger expedition) con- 
 clusively demonstrate, that the diversity of form among the 
 inhabitants of the different oceans is nothing like so great 
 as the difference between the inhabitants of the different 
 continents. Of this fact my own investigations at Belli- 
 gam were only additional proof. Of course 1 found a 
 large number of new, and some very interesting animal 
 forms — chiefly among the lower divisions of marine fauna — 
 radiolarians, infusoria, sponges, corals, medusae, and si- 
 phonophora — but they only furnished further evidence that 
 the fauna of the surface-water of the Indian Ocean, as well 
 as that along its shores, was closely allied to the better- 
 known sea-animal world of the tropical Pacific Ocean; for 
 instance, Philippine and Fiji Islands. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 139 
 
 Other portions of the Indian coast maybe richer in mani- 
 fold and peculiar sea-animal forms than Ceylon, but the 
 enormous quantity of rain which daily descends upon it 
 would seem to me an extremely unfavorable circumstance. 
 While the flora of the island owes its wanton exuberance to 
 these deluging rains, they offer various obstructions to the 
 development and prosperity of the fauna. The large 
 masses of red earth which are daily carried into the ocean 
 by the numerous streams, sully the purity of the water and 
 diminish its saltness, thus destroying the pure, transparent 
 quality of the seawater, which is one of the first conditions 
 essential to the life of many marine, and particularly pe- 
 lagic animals. 
 
 If in spite of all hindrances I amassed a considerable 
 zoological collection in Belligam, and brought back 1o Jena 
 far more material for study than I can hope to master in 
 the remaining years of my life, then I owe the greater part 
 of it to the indefatigable zeal of my faithful Ganymede, 
 whose highest ambition was to enrich my collection with 
 land and sea-creatures of all sorts. Through his influence 
 a number of boys were engaged to collect for me, and the 
 curiosity-trade with these little fellows soon assumed a very 
 pleasant as well as profitable character. At stated periods 
 a whole army of nude graceful lads would wait on me at 
 the rest-house. One dusky little god would bring a pair 
 of exquisitely-tinted fishes, another a curious sea-star or sea- 
 urchin, a third would offer a huge black scorpion or mille- 
 ped , a fourth would display a pair of gorgeous butterflies or 
 beetles, and so on. The entertaining scenes always recalled 
 similar ones I had enjoyed on the Mediterranean shore, 
 especially at Naples and Messina. But how different the 
 behavior of the little traders here and there! The Italian 
 boys extolled their wares in loud, noisy tones, and with na- 
 tive eloquence frequently delivered long and flowery speeches 
 eulogistic of their perfections. They asked ten times as much 
 as the articles were worth, and were never satisfied even 
 when I paid the exorbitant prices they demanded. On 
 the other hand, the little Singhalese would shyly and re- 
 spectfully lay their wares before me, and wait in silence to 
 hear what I would offer for them. As a general thing they 
 would be satisfied with a trifling coin, but they would be 
 particularly delighted when I gave them any of the articles 
 
140 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 I had brought with me from Europe for bartering pur- 
 poses. 
 
 Unfortunately, I had neither time nor the appliances 
 necessary to preserve all the interesting natural curiosities I 
 collected in this manner. Here again the tropical climate 
 and destructive insects presented insuperable difficulties — 
 especially when I attempted to dry anything. To thorough- 
 ly dry organic substances in such a humid atmosphere is 
 one of the most difficult problems, for even the very air is 
 filled with moisture, and a specimen that is already dry will 
 mould and slowly decompose. It is absolutely impossible 
 to sufficiently dry many objects. Although I hung the 
 skins of the birds and mammals I had shot and taken so 
 much trouble to prepare in the sun for weeks, every night 
 would thoroughly drench them with moisture. 
 
 More hostile still to the drying of natural curiosities than 
 the humid atmosphere, are the legions of destructive in- 
 sects. No place, no object, is safe from these pests. Even 
 were there no chinks everywhere in the walls through which 
 all sorts of creeping and flying beasties, as well as the humid 
 air, have free ingress, it would still be impossible to pro- 
 tect one’s self from their attacks. Nothing can withstand 
 the assault of their powerful jaws; they will force an en- 
 trance through anything — the walls, the roof, and the stone 
 floor, which they skilfully undermine. Frequently on ris- 
 ing in the morning one is astonished to find conical heaps 
 of earth which have been flung up between the flagstones 
 during the night by the industrious termite, or ant sappers 
 and miners. I was convinced of the energy and dispatch 
 with which these minute enemies accomplish their work 
 before the end of my first month in Belligam. I had ac- 
 cumulated in these four weeks a handsome collection of 
 dried butterflies and beetles, skins of birds and mammals, 
 curious fruits and specimens of woods, ferns, and other in- 
 teresting plants, and locked them — securely, as I imagined 
 — in a small side-room of the rest-house. Almost every day 
 I visited my treasures, to see whether the enemy had made 
 any inroads upon them, and took good care always to de- 
 stroy the advance-guard of the termite and ant armies I 
 might find reconnoitring on my territory. By generous 
 applications of camphor, naphtha, and carbolic acid I im- 
 agined I had sufficiently protected my treasures to leave 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 141 
 
 them for a few days, as an excursion to a distant point, and 
 some urgent work would require my attention for that 
 length of time. How startled was I when at the end of 
 the third day I entered my well-protected museum, and 
 found most of my treasures transformed into heaps of dust 
 and mould! A dozen regiments of large red ants had 1 
 forced an entrance through the roof, several divisions of 
 small black ants had entered through the walls, while a le- 
 gion of termites had come up through the floor, and made 
 a combined assault that resulted most disastrously for my 
 collection! 
 
 From that moment I gave up collecting dried curiosities, 
 and turned my attention to preserving in alcohol or Wick- 
 ersheim fluid. The latter, which has been extolled beyond 
 its actual merits, proved utterly useless. Even with alco- 
 hol I experienced considerable difficulty, for the supply I 
 had brought from Europe was soon exhausted, and the do- 
 mestic arrack (which is prepared by the natives) is of very 
 inferior quality. The better alcohol obtainable in the larger 
 cities is so very expensive — on account of the high tax on 
 spirits — that I used it only in small quantities. Besides, 
 much of my pleasure in these alcohol collections was spoiled 
 by the disagreeable task of soldering the tin cases. Al- 
 though the art is very simple — in theory — its practice is 
 attended by considerable difficulty, especially in so primi- 
 tive a village as Belligam. With the temperature at 22° 
 or 24° K. it was actual torture to bend one’s perspiring face 
 over a red-hot stick of solder. I shudder when I think of 
 the disagreeable labor which often tempted me to anathe- 
 matize the whole collection! Of course these dearly-bought 
 treasures are all the more valuable to me now. The thirty 
 chests of natural curiosities accumulated in Belligam, and 
 the twenty boxes full collected in Galle, amply reward me 
 for all the tribulations I was obliged to endure. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Six Weeks among the Singhalese. 
 
 Daily life in the rest-house of Belligam, after I had sur- 
 mounted various obstacles, became very pleasant and satis- 
 
142 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 factory, and was attended by fewer objectionable features 
 than I had at first apprehended. My four ministering 
 spirits performed their tasks with tolerable diligence, and 
 when anything was lacking my faithful Ganymede was 
 always ready to supply the want. Fully awake to the pre- 
 scribed limits of my time in Belligam and the many sacri- 
 fices I had made to this Indian journey, I would say to 
 myself every morning when I awoke, “This day is worth 
 at least five pounds sterling, and I must accomplish enough 
 work to equal that sum in value.” Accordingly I made it 
 a rule not to lose a single hour, and especially to forego 
 the pleasure of the customary siesta during the hot hours 
 of noon; they would be my most fruitful working time, for 
 I might be certain that no one would disturb me. 
 
 As Belligam is not quite six degrees from the equator, 
 and even on the shortest day of the year there is scarcely 
 an hour’s difference between day and night, I might count 
 on twelve working hours. Accordingly I arose regularly 
 every morning before the sun, and had enjoyed my first 
 refreshing bath when Helios made his appearance above the 
 palm-groves on Cape Mirissa, directly opposite the rest- 
 house. Then I would go out on the veranda, from whence 
 I usually observed the sudden awakening of the young day, 
 and find Ganymede awaiting me with a fresh cocoanut full 
 of cool milk. In the mean time William would shake the 
 millepeds, scorpions, and other unwelcome intruders from 
 my clothes. Then Socrates would appear and humbly 
 serve my tea, with the usual accompaniments of bananas 
 and corn bread. I was obliged to forego the luxury of 
 coffee, my favorite drink, for in Ceylon, whose coffee 
 districts are its chief source of wealth, the noble beverage 
 is usually so inferior that tea, which is much better, is gen- 
 erally preferred. The reason for this is said to be that the 
 coffee bean cannot be properly dried on the island. 
 
 Usually at seven o’clock iny boatman would fetch the 
 nets and glass vessels for our daily expedition on the bay. 
 On my return, after two or three hours, I would at once 
 distribute the treasures I had secured in the different ves- 
 sels prepared for their reception, and proceed to examine 
 and preserve those animals which were still alive. The 
 more important would be subjected to close microscopic 
 scrutiny, and perhaps have their portraits sketched. Then 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 143 
 
 I would take my second bath, and after it, at eleven 
 o’clock, a second meal, the so-called “breakfast,” which 
 consisted chiefly of the national “curry and rice.” The 
 rice itself was always simply boiled, but all the ingenuity 
 stepmother nature had crammed into Babua’s diminutive 
 skull was daily exercised to surprise me with a new sort 
 of curry. This most important ragout-like mess, which 
 always accompanied a dish of rice, would sometimes be 
 “sweet” (that is, with very little spice), sometimes “hot” 
 (sharp with cayenne pepper and the like pungent season- 
 ing); again the indefinable “ mixtum composition ,” would 
 be chiefly vegetable (cocoanut, and various other fruits 
 and vegetables); then again it would be animal, with 
 meats of different sorts. The latter always excited my 
 liveliest wonder, for Babua seemed to think that because I 
 was a zoologist I would of course be interested in all the 
 different animal orders, and that their adaptability to a 
 curry would form an important zoological problem which 
 it would give me pleasure to solve. If on Monday the ver- 
 tebrates would be represented in the curry by a delicate 
 fish, on Tuesday the finer prawns and crabs would appear 
 as types of the articulates. If on Wednesday cuttle-fish or 
 calamary ( Sepia and Loligo ) would appear as the highly- 
 organized representatives of the mollusks, they would be 
 surpassed on Thursday by boiled snails, and occasionally 
 baked oysters. On Friday would follow the remarkable 
 tribe of echinoderms, represented by the egg-like sea- 
 urchins, or the tough, leathery liolothures (trepang). 
 Saturdays I naturally expected to be regaled with plant- 
 animals, and would look for corals, medusae, or sponges, 
 but my cook evidently held to the old-time theory which 
 classes these zoophytes with plants, and substituted in their 
 stead some sort of flying animal. Now it would be a bat or 
 a bird, a corpulent rhinoceros-beetle, or a night-flying 
 moth. Sundays a special feast would surprise me: the 
 curry would contain an Indian fowl or else a plump lizard 
 (iguana), occasionally. also a snake that I at first took to 
 be an eel. Babua was evidently sure of the near consan- 
 guinity of birds and reptiles, and thought it immaterial 
 whether he prepared the younger or older sauropsida- 
 form for the table. Fortunately for my European prej- 
 udices, I was familiarized by degrees with the zoological 
 
144 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 variety of the rest-house curry — though usually not until 
 after I had resignedly swallowed the mess. Besides there 
 was such a conglomeration of spices, roots, leaves, and 
 fruits mixed up in the thick sauce that only the most 
 minute anatomical examination would have enlightened 
 me as to the nature of its component parts — and that I 
 took good care not to undertake. 
 
 The first week in Belligam I doubted very much whether 
 1 could stand a curry and rice diet for two months. But 
 I was like Goethe with the muddy “Merseburger beer:” at 
 first I could hardly make up my mind to taste the curry, 
 and afterwards I could hardly do without it. The second 
 week I concluded to make virtue a necessity, and deter- 
 mined to find curry palatable — or at least interesting; and 
 before the end of the first month gastronomic adaptation 
 had made so thorough an Indian of me that I was con- 
 stantly longing for new curries. I even devoted the results 
 of my hunting expeditions to their discovery, and surprised 
 old Babua himself with my improved curry-forms of ape 
 and flying fox. The delicious fruits which graced the table 
 at every meal richly compensated for the curry torments I 
 had to endure. First of all I must gratefully mention the 
 bananas, the noblest of tropical gifts that richly deserve 
 their name of “paradise figs” ( Musa sapientum). If this 
 incomparable fruit in all tropical regions belongs to the 
 most grateful of culture-plants, and repays its possessor a 
 thousandfold for the trifling care bestowed upon it, then 
 is this particularly the case in Ceylon. For is not this the 
 “paradise of the lemur”? The pair of comical semi-apes 
 or lemurs ( Stenops gracilis) I kept at the rest-house were 
 not in the least doubt about it; they preferred their lus- 
 cious paradise figs to all other diet. Numerous varieties 
 of the banana are cultivated by the Singhalese. The finest 
 are the small golden “Lady-fingers,” which are really 
 not much larger than the finger of a fine lady, and are 
 distinguished by a peculiar sweetness. The huge water 
 banana is the shape, size, and color of a large cucumber, 
 and contains a refreshing, thirst-satisfying juice. The 
 thick potato banana is valued for its farinaceous substance 
 and nourishing qualities, three or four being sufficient to 
 satisfy hunger. The anana banana is distinguished by a 
 delicious fragrance; the cinnamon banana by its spicy 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 145 
 
 taste. etc. Usually tlie banana is eaten raw, but it is very 
 palatable when fried in lard or baked. No other fruit on 
 earth is at the same time so delicious to the taste and 
 nourishing, so wholesome and abundant. A single banana 
 tree will produce a cluster of fruit that contains several 
 hundred bananas, and this tree, with its magnificent crown 
 of huge green plume-like leaves, is merely an annual. The 
 picturesque beauty of the banana vies with its inestimable 
 utility. It is the loveliest adornment of the native huts. 
 If I might transplant to my garden in Europe but one 
 tropical plant, the “ Musa sapientum ” would certainly 
 have the preference over all others. This “Muse of the 
 Sages 5 ’ is in truth a vegetable Philosopher’s stone.” 
 
 Next to the banana — of which I consumed several at 
 every meal — the mango ( Mangifera indica ) formed one of 
 the principal adornments of the rest-house table. It is a 
 green, egg-shaped fruit, from three to six inches long, with 
 a cream-like, golden pulp that has a faint but pronounced 
 turpentine aroma. I found the fruit of the passion-flower 
 ( Passiflora ) very agreeable, and very similar to our goose- 
 berry. I was less pleased with the celebrated custard- 
 apple, the scaly fruit of the Annona squamosa , and with 
 the Indian almond, the hard nut of the Terminalia ca - 
 tappa . The quality of the apple and orange grown in 
 Ceylon is very inferior; the latter, which will not ripen, is 
 juiceless and stringy. The inferiority of these and some 
 other fruits is doubtless due to the want of cultivation. 
 The Singhalese are too indolent to trouble themselves with 
 the cultivation of plants. After I had refreshed myself 
 with a simple breakfast I would usually devote the hottest 
 hours of the day, from twelve to four, to anatomical or 
 microscopic work, to observations and sketching, as well as 
 preserving and packing collected material. The following 
 hours, from four to six, I would devote to excursions into 
 the country around Belligam; now I would sketch in 
 water colors, now perpetuate a beautiful view by the aid 
 of my photographic camera. Sometimes I would go into 
 the forest to shoot apes and birds, or collect snails and 
 insects; and sometimes I would hunt for rare curiosities 
 among the coral reefs along the shore. Usually about an 
 hour before sundown I would return richly laden with 
 spoil to the rest-house, when another hour would be spent 
 
146 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 in attending to the objects I had collected : skinning and 
 ].) reparing the animals I had shot, pressing plants, etc. 
 Thus it would be eight o’clock before I was ready for 
 dinner, the second meal of consequence. Here again the 
 chief dish would be the inevitable “curry and rice.” It 
 was followed by fish or crabs, both of which I relished im- 
 mensely. Then followed farinaceous dishes, after which 
 delicious fruits concluded the meal. Belligam is of course 
 well supplied with fish of all sorts. One of the finest is 
 the Seir fish ( Cybium guttatum ), a large flat thorny finned 
 fish belonging to the mackerel or Scomberidce family. 
 The Cataphracti , Squamipennes , and Labroides families 
 also furnished savory representatives. Less deserving of 
 praise were the curious ray-fish and sharks, of which huge 
 examples were daily exposed for sale- in the fish-market. 
 In trying to render these “primary fishes” — the ancestors 
 of the higher vertebrates (man included) — palatable by 
 pungent pepper sauces, Babua evidently reckoned on the 
 peculiar philo-genetic interest they might have for me. 
 
 From this menu the indulgent reader may infer that I 
 was in a fair way of becoming a vegetarian. True, Socra- 
 tes on several occasions sought to delight me with what 
 he considered extra dainties: beefsteak and mutton chops. 
 But I forbear to mention my suspicions concerning the 
 true nature of the animal to which I was indebted for these 
 special delicacies. 
 
 The lack of European meat diet was occasionally supplied 
 by the results of a successful hunting expedition. First 
 among the relishes thus obtained was roast ape; this noble 
 game is exceedingly palatable either roasted or stewed in 
 vinegar. The flesh of the flying fox is not so appetizing; 
 it has a peculiar musk-like odor. The flesh of the giant 
 lizard ( Monitor draccena) can scarcely be distinguished 
 from veal; while the snake soup is very like a soup made 
 of eels. Among the various birds which were used as sub- 
 stitutes for domestic fowl were wild pigeons and ducks, 
 crows and herons. If to these are added the different 
 “ frutti di mare” — the piquant fruits of the sea — mussels, 
 snails, sea-urchins, holothures, etc., the bill of fare at 
 Belligam may be said to offer a greater variety than one 
 would at first suppose. 
 
 In addition to these native products Mr. Scott had 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON . 
 
 147 
 
 kindly furnished me with all sorts of European conserves, 
 Scotch marmalade, Liebig’s extracts, etc., as well as a 
 generous supply of liquors. At first the important ques^ 
 tion of what to drink seemed a difficult one tfl answer. 
 Although the highlands of Ceylon are abundantly supplied 
 with pure spring water, the drinking water of the low- 
 lands is bad and very unwholesome. The copious rains 
 which deluge the island every day wash masses of earth 
 and vegetable remains into the rivers, whose waters in 
 many places communicate with stagnant lagoons. Conse- 
 quently the water used for drinking purposes is always 
 boiled, made into weak tea, or mixed with wine or whiskey. 
 My friend Scott had sent me a generous quantity of the 
 latter beverage, but I preferred cocoanut milk, which I 
 found agreeable and refreshing as well as wholesome. 
 
 My frugal dinner happily over, I would ramble along the 
 deserted seashore, or enjoy the illumination of the cocoa- 
 grove by the myriads of glow-worms and fireflies. Then I 
 would write a few lines in my note-book, or try to read by 
 the dim light of my cocoa-oil lamp. Usually by nine 
 o’clock extreme weariness would compel me to seek my 
 couch — after the clothes-shaking process of the morning had 
 been repeated. The large black scorpions (six inches long) 
 are so numerous that I once collected a half dozen in an 
 hour’s time. Snakes also abound in great numbers. The 
 pretty green whip-snakes hang everywhere from the 
 branches of the trees, and huge rat-snakes ( Coryphodon 
 hlumenbachii) at night chase the rats and mice over the 
 roof. Although they are perfectly harmless it is by no 
 means a pleasant sensation to have a snake five feet long 
 suddenly drop through a hole in the roof, and occasionally 
 on your bed. However my nights were rarely disturbed 
 by the various beasties of Belligam, except occasionally by 
 the howl of a jackal, the dismal cry of the devihbird (an 
 owl, Syrnium indrani ), or some other night bird. The 
 tinkling notes of the dainty little tree frog, whose habitat 
 is in the cup of a large flower, was a soothing lullaby. 
 More frequently the play of my own thoughts would drive 
 slumber from my eyes. Recollections of past experiences 
 and enjoyments and anticipations of those to come would 
 crowd my brain. In long and brilliant succession the 
 motley scenes of the past weeks would flit before me, and 
 
148 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 captivating plans for the morrow be devised. My attempts 
 at photography and sketching in water colors, as well as 
 my work in the zoological laboratory, gradually brought 
 me into closer relations with the bronze-hued Belligamians, 
 the majority of whom are pure Singhalese. The very first 
 week of my sojourn in the village I was called upon to 
 assist the “native doctor” perform several surgical opera- 
 tions, which were happily successful. My reputation as 
 skilled surgeon soon assumed such exaggerated proportions 
 that I would gladly have transferred the brilliant (if not 
 profitable) practice to one of my worthy colleagues in 
 Germany. I was even reputed to be a conjurer that could 
 brew magic potions from certain plants and extract gold 
 from different sea animals. The most astonishing de- 
 mands were made on my black art. Old and young would 
 follow me in crowds whenever I rambled through the vil- 
 lage or its surroundings, and behold in everything I did 
 some mysterious witchcraft. 
 
 As I mentioned before, the trade in natural curiosities 
 became a very interesting and profitable feature of my resi- 
 dence in Belligam. Among the various articles of barter I 
 had brought with me, the iron instruments, knives, scis- 
 sors, tongs, hammers, etc., were especially coveted; also 
 glass beads, colored stones, and similar articles of adornment. 
 But the highest worth was given — and it speaks well for 
 the artistic perceptions of the Singhalese — to the highly- 
 colored illustrations, of which I had brought two or three 
 hundred. These works of art, the familiar favorites of our 
 children (the celebrated Bilderbogen aus Neu-Ruppin , 
 Schon zu haben , bei Gustav Kuhn; Stuck fur Stuck , funf 
 pfennig!), met with an exceedingly favorable reception in 
 Belligam, and I was only sorry that I had not laid in a 
 larger supply. As gifts to the important personages they 
 were also very acceptable, and I could offer nothing better 
 in return for the heaps of cocoanuts, bananas, mangoes, and 
 other luscious fruits which were daily sent to the rest- 
 house. Soon all the more imposing huts in the village 
 were decorated with one or more of these productions of 
 German art. Indeed, several chiefs from neighboring vil- 
 lages brought me offerings of fruit and flowers in order to 
 secure some of the coveted pictures. The subjects most ap- 
 proved by my dusky patrons were those appurtenant to the 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 149 
 
 military: Prussian ulans, Austrian hussars, French artil- 
 lery, English marines, etc. The second choice embodied 
 theatrical scenes, such as Titania and Oberon, The 
 White Lady, Somnambula, and Wagner’s Nibelungen Ring. 
 The third choice comprised domestic animals: horses, 
 cows, sheep. The fourth and last was for genre pictures 
 and landscapes, the more gorgeous the better. 
 
 This mutual present-giving soon established the friend- 
 liest relations between me and the inhabitants of Belligam; 
 and when I walked or rode in my bullock cart through the 
 village I was constantly bowing right and left in response 
 to the respectful salutations of my dusky friends. In my 
 walks through the Singhalese villages I was always struck 
 by the absence of the fair sex; even among the children 
 playing in the streets the boys formed by all odds the 
 greater number. The girls are early accustomed to house- 
 hold work; they fade very young, are married at ten or 
 twelve years of age, and become old women at twenty or 
 thirty. Grandmothers of twenty-five and thirty are not in- 
 frequent. A further significant fact is the disproportion 
 between the male and female births: ten boys on an aver- 
 age are born to eight or nine girls. Here the fairer sex is 
 in the minority, and it is also the least attractive. The 
 disproportion between the sexes is due, to some extent, to 
 the remarkable institution of Polyandry. In spite of the 
 efforts made by the English Government to suppress this 
 custom it is still practised, and is probably increasing — 
 particularly in the more remote parts of the island. It is 
 not unusual to find two or three brothers with one wife in 
 common, and there are ladies who rejoice in the possession 
 of from eight to twelve husbands. These complicated 
 family relations and their consequences form the theme of 
 many extraordinary stories, but it is of course difficult to 
 separate fact from fiction. 
 
 Old Socrates, with whom I once discussed the custom of 
 Polyandry, astonished me by a novel theory of transmission 
 that is sufficiently remarkable to be mentioned here. Al- 
 though it is not to be found among the different laws of 
 transmission, mentioned in the ninth chapter of my Nat- 
 ural History of the Creation , it is so original that the fol- 
 lowers of Darwin cannot help but be interested in it. First, 
 I must premise that Socrates was a son of the Kandyan 
 
150 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 highlands, and — according to his account — a worthy mem- 
 ber of the highest caste. Consequently, he looked with su- 
 preme contempt on the inhabitants of Belligam, among 
 whom he had lived for several years, and with whom he was 
 plainly not on friendly terms. The very first day he warned 
 me to beware of them, and enumerated a number of their 
 most repulsive faults. “ Of course / 5 he added abruptly, 
 shrugging his shoulders, “their baseness is not to be won- 
 dered at; for you must know, sir, that every one of these 
 lowland people had several fathers, and as a number of evil 
 qualities was inherited from every one of the sires, the de- 
 terioration of the race is quite natural !” 
 
 Such universal depravity of course made me doubtful as 
 to the propriety of remaining in Belligam, but I was as- 
 sured by the worthy steward of the rest-house that lie was to 
 be trusted, and that I might confidently depend on his 
 being a perfectly upright and honest man. I was considera- 
 bly surprised when, shortly afterwards, the first head man 
 called on me, and in the strictest confidence repeated almost 
 the same words. I was enlightened as to the real character 
 of the Belligamians after I had heard the same story, with 
 different variations, from the half dozen or more important 
 personages whose visits followed that of their chief. 
 
 The shadow which these remarkable communications cast 
 on the imaginary paradi sal innocence of the untutored Sin- 
 ghalese, became all the more gloomy when the “ judge 55 (or, 
 as he preferred to be called, the “ President of the Cham ber 
 of Justice, 55 ) informed me with a sigh that he had to work 
 harder than any one in the village, and that his judicial 
 labors occupied the entire day. Indeed, I found the hall of 
 justice (an open shed like the schoolhouse) almost always 
 filled with villagers intent upon securing their rights. It 
 was rather comforting to hear that a majority of the cases 
 were slander, cheating, and stealing — particularly the latter. 
 An inherent partiality for what does not belong to him 
 characterizes the Singhalese. He is also a liar of the high- 
 est degree, but no friend of violent deeds. Corporeal inju- 
 ries and manslaughter are of infrequent occurrence. Mur- 
 der is almost unknown. In fact the more active passions 
 rarely appeal-; the Singhalese temperament is, on the whole, 
 decidedly phlegmatic. 
 
 The Singhalese are extremely fond of music and dancing. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 151 
 
 both of *a kind that would be little to the European taste. 
 The principal instruments are drums and tom-toms, vigor- 
 ously beaten with wooden clubs, reed-pipes, and a primitive 
 instrument with a single string (monochord). Evenings, 
 when I heard the ear-splitting noise of these instruments, 
 and would follow the sound, I would be sure to find before 
 afire, under a group of palms, a troop of a half dozen or 
 .more naked brown fellows who had fantastically painted 
 themselves with white, yellow, and red stripes, jumping 
 about and cutting the most extraordinary capers. Around 
 them in a wide circle squatted the delighted audience, 
 watching the grotesque performance with the greatest inter- 
 est. About Christmas time (which is also the Buddhist 
 New Year) these evening 44 devil-dances” are of more fre- 
 quent occurrence, and are of peculiar religious signification. 
 The principal performers then are fantastically decorated 
 with colored feathers, wear horns and long tails, to the 
 great delight of the village youth. Whole troops of these 
 jumping and howling demons, accompanied by music, pa- 
 rade through the village all day long, while the nightly revels 
 frequently develop into unseemly orgies. 
 
 A peculiar Buddhist feast had been prepared on the 19th 
 of December by the chief of Dena-Pitya, a neighboring vil- 
 lage. I was invited as a guest of honor, and was escorted 
 to the festal scene by an imposing procession of Dena- 
 Pityans. A dozen old, close-shaven Buddhist priests in 
 yellow growns received me under the branches of an im- 
 mense sacred fig tree, and conducted me, amid the most ex- 
 traordinary chanting, into the temple, which was tastefully 
 decorated with wreaths and garlands. Here, the large 
 image of Buddha, also profusely adorned with fragrant blos- 
 soms, was shown to me, and the signification of the paint- 
 ings on the walls (scenes from the life of the god) amply ex- 
 pounded. Then I was conducted to a throne that had been 
 prepared for me under a shady group of banana trees op- 
 posite the temple, and now the real performance began. A 
 band of five tom-tom beaters and as many pipers began 
 an uproar which was enough to move the rocks; at the same 
 moment two dancers on stilts twelve feet long made their 
 appearance and performed the most wonderful evolutions. 
 At intervals the daughters of the chief, black-haired, 
 voluptuous girls from twelve to twenty years old, carried 
 
152 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 around the refreshments: toddy or palm wine in cocoannt 
 shells, sweetmeats and fruits. Unfortunately I could not 
 understand a single word of the flowery oration delivered 
 to me by the chief, but I guessed its purport to be the 
 honor I had conferred on Dena-Pitya by my visit. The 
 same was expressed in pantomime by a band of ten naked, 
 gaudily-painted, and fantastically* adorned devil-dancers 
 that capered madly around my throne. When at last to- 
 wards sundown I took leave of my entertainers, and sought 
 my bullock cart I found that it had been filled to over- 
 flowing by the hospitable Dena-Pityans with the most beau- 
 tiful bananas and cocoanuts. 
 
 Scarcely was my role of honored guest at a genuine 
 Buddhist feast concluded when the very next day I was 
 called on to perform a similar part in the annual fes- 
 tivities of the Wesleyan Mission at Belligam. The follow- 
 ing morning (Dec. 20th) the president of the mission at 
 Point de Galle unexpectedly made his appearance at the 
 rest house, and informed me that a distribution of prizes 
 among the scholars of the mission school at Belligam 
 would take place that day, and that I could render no great- 
 er service to the good cause than by distributing the prizes 
 among the children. In spite of all resistance I was at last 
 obliged to yield. If I had rendered homage yesterday to 
 immortal Buddha, to-day I must pay due respect to the ex- 
 cellent Mr. Wesley. Accordingly, in the afternoon I re- 
 paired to the public schoolhouse where perhaps one hun- 
 dred and fifty children dressed in white were assembled; 
 some were from Belligam, and some from the neighboring 
 villages. The exercises began with a number of hymns — a 
 performance that did not impress me very favorably with 
 the musical abilities of the dusky schoolmaster. To me 
 it seemed as if the one hundred and fifty children (about 
 ninety boys and sixty girls) sang at least fifty different mel- 
 odies, and atoned for the want of harmony by the strength 
 of their voices. The examination in biblical history and 
 English grammar which followed was very satisfactory, 
 as were also the specimens of drawing and writing — espec- 
 ially when all the circumstances of this Ceylon paradise 
 were considered. Then the Reverend Mr. N. delivered a 
 formal lecture, at the conclusion of which he asked me 
 to distribute the thirty prizes among the most diligent 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 153 
 
 scholars. As I called the names from the list he gave me, 
 the fortu»ate little Singhalese would come forward with 
 beaming faces, and, bowing low before me, receive the re- 
 ward for their industry, an English book or an illustrated 
 primer. The ceremonies concluded with an entertainment 
 of coffee and cakes. My friends in Galle and Colombo, 
 whom the newspapers informed of my extraordinary per- 
 formances, were greatly amused. 
 
 But the most remarkable celebration I attended while in 
 Belligam was the burial of an aged Buddha priest on t he 
 13th of January. While the common people here are sim- 
 ply buried (in the gardens behind their houses, or in the 
 nearest cocoa-grove), the priests alone share the honor of be- 
 ing consumed by fire. The priest to be burned on this oc- 
 casion was the oldest and most distinguished in the com- 
 munity; accordingly the funeral pyre of palm stems was 
 erected near the principal temple. After the body, which 
 rested on a flower-adorned bier, had been carried, amid 
 solemn chanting, through the village, a band of young 
 Buddha priests in yellow robes hoisted it to the top of the 
 funeral pile which was about thirty feet high. The four 
 corners of the pyre were supported by four cocoa-palms, be- 
 tween which was stretched canopy like a large wdiite cloth. 
 After the conclusion of various ceremonies, solemn dirges 
 and prayer, the pile at five o’clock w r as lighted amidst the 
 most deafening tom-tom uproar. A crowd of several thou- 
 sand people watched the burning pile with expectant inter- 
 est, and when the flames seized and devoured the muslin 
 canopy a loud, jubilant cry went up from every throat — 
 the soul of the burning priest had taken its flight to heaven. 
 This was the signal for the inauguration of more cheerful 
 ceremonies. Rice cakes and palm wine were distributed 
 among the crowd, and a merry carousal followed that was 
 kept up around the burning pyre the greater part of the 
 night. 
 
 Aside from these celebrations and several excursions into 
 the more distant parts of the country around Belligam, the 
 pleasant routine of my retired life was seldom interrupted. 
 Now and then an English Government official on a tour of 
 inspection would spend a few hours, or the night at the 
 rest-house. Less agreeable visitors were several Singhalese 
 schoolmasters who had been attracted by the reputation of 
 
154 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 my laboratory. They came from a distant part of the prov- 
 ince, introduced themselves as colleagues of *nine, and 
 wanted to know and see everything I could tell and show 
 them. Of course I am only a schoolmaster myself, and 
 cherish an unbounded reverence for my caste; but the pe- 
 culiar species of the Prmceptor Singkalensis with which I 
 came in contact here was, I confess, very little to my 
 taste. I was heartily glad when the importunate and con- 
 ceited as well as ignorant fellows took their departure. 
 Later I made the acquaintance of several more agreeable 
 and better-informed examples of the same genera. 
 
 The most remarkable of all the numerous visits I re- 
 ceived while in Belligam surprised me about Christmas- 
 time. I returned late one evening very tired from a distant 
 excursion to Boralu, and was met at the gate in front of 
 the rest-house by Socrates, who informed me in a mysterious 
 whisper that four strange “ladies” were waiting to see me. 
 Sure enough, in the dimly-lighted dining-room I found four 
 representatives of the gentler sex, clad in European costume, 
 but with execrable taste. I was considerably startled when 
 the flickering lamp-light revealed four wrinkled old faces — 
 each homelier than the other. Had there been but three 
 I should have at once decided that my visitors were the 
 three Phorhyades from the classic Walpurgisnaclit , and — 
 after the manner of Mephistopheles — would have made 
 some flattering remarks. But this was spared me by the 
 eldest of the four bronze graces (she was at least fifty!) ris- 
 ing and saying, in a polite, dignified manner and fairly 
 good English, that she and her sisters were the knowledge- 
 seeking daughters of a neighboring chief, and that their 
 great-grandfather had been a Dutchman. They were greatly 
 interested in science, and were anxious to inspect my col- 
 lections, instruments, etc. I begged them to come again] 
 the following day, when I would gratify their thirst for 
 information. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 155 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Basamuna and Mirissa. 
 
 The immediate surroundings of Belligam, as well as the 
 more distant hill country, abounds in enchanting pictures, 
 and displays the idyllic and at the same time magnificent 
 tropical character of South-west Ceylon in its greatest per- 
 fection. The numerous excursions I made in different 
 directions, generally in company with Ganymede and 
 William, are among my most agreeable recollections. 
 
 The lovely harbor of Belligam in situation, extent, and 
 outline is almost exactly like that of Point de Galle; only 
 the former is about one third the larger. Both harbors 
 form a half-circle that opens towards the south, and is 
 sheltered on either side by a rocky promontory. The radius 
 of the half-circle at Belligam is perhaps something more 
 than a nautical mile; at Galle it is a trifle less. The dis- 
 tance from promontory to promontory at the mouth of the 
 Galle harbor is a mile and a half; at Belligam, only one 
 mile. The westerly projection, which in Galle is occupied 
 by the fort, in Belligam forms Basamuna Point — an exceed- 
 ingly picturesque group of hills whose dark red cliffs are 
 ornamented with clumps of the most remarkable pandanus 
 trees. The eastern promontory, which in both places juts 
 farther into the ocean and is the higher, in Galle contains 
 the “ watering-place/ 5 and in Belligam the charming 
 groves of Mirissa. 
 
 The striking resemblance between these two bodies of 
 water is increased by the similarity of their white sand 
 beaches, both of which are shaded by magnificent cocoa- 
 groves, and interspersed with red and brown rock masses. 
 Here and there you catch a glimpse of the blue mountains 
 in the distant highlands; among them the ever-conspicuous 
 landmarks, the Haycock and Adam’s Peak. Even in their 
 wonderful coral formation are Galle and Belligam harbors 
 alike. 
 
 As the largest and finest coral banks of Galle encircle 
 the fort at the foot of the westerly promontory, so in Bel- 
 ligam they sulround the craggy foot of Basamuna. The 
 coral banks of Belligam are not so extensive as those of 
 
150 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 Galle, but its harbor is much deeper and less obstructed by 
 dangerous reefs. It is therefore difficult to understand 
 why the splendid and commodious harbor of Belligam has 
 not long ago become important for navigation, and why a 
 proud and flourishing commercial city has not taken the 
 place of the insignificant fishing village. Had I to estab- 
 lish a colony in India I would go nowhere else but to 
 Belligemma! ✓ 
 
 Basamuna Point was my favorite promenade while I re- 
 mained in Belligam. Afternoons, between four and five 
 o’clock, after I had finished my zoological tasks, and care- 
 fully disposed of the marine treasures in alcohol which I 
 had secured during the morning, I would hastily lock the 
 microscope and anatomical instruments in their cupboard, 
 and sling the cartridge box and botanical case around 
 Ganymede’s shoulders. William would carry the gun and 
 butterfly nets, and I would take charge of the water-color 
 utensils and sketch-book. The Basamuna cliffs are only 
 half a mile distant from the rest-house, which, by the way, 
 stands at the southern extremity of the village on the 
 western side of the bay. The nearest way to the point is 
 along the strand, past some isolated fishing huts, and then 
 along the verge of the cocoa-forest. Here the incessant 
 motion of the sea undermines the loamy shore, and every 
 year causes the destruction of many noble cocoa-palms; 
 their bleached corpses protrude from the water, and the 
 brown root-tufts at the end of the stems, uplifted and 
 washed clean by the waves, look like so many hairy heads. 
 A multitude of crabs, common and hermit (Ocyi>ode and 
 Pagurus) animate the sands; here the latter do not bury 
 their hinder parts in the deserted shell of the sea-snail, but 
 prefer the more stately, red-lipped habitation of the large 
 palm-snail ( Helix Immastoma). When the ebb tide is very 
 low one may clamber around the foot of the steep cliffs at the 
 point, over the exposed coral rocks, among which the reced- 
 ing waters have left a number of interesting sea animals: 
 snails, mussels, sea-urchins, and stars. When the tide is 
 in one must go through the palm-grove, in which are scat- 
 tered native huts with their usual adornments of bread- 
 fruit and banana trees. 
 
 Emerging suddenly from the grove you are surprised by 
 the utter solitude and wildness of the scene before you: 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 157 
 
 there are the dark red porphyry cliffs of Basamuna Point, 
 savage crags, rent and cloven, at whose foot the raging 
 surf flings its foamy spray high into the air. The crown 
 of the rocky ridge is almost covered with screw-palms or 
 pandanus shrubs, of such fantastic shapes and grotesque 
 grouping that only the wildest fancies of a Gustave Lore 
 could equal them. Like powerful serpents their stems 
 curve and twist about each other, below resting on multi- 
 tudes of long slender roots, above branched and forked like 
 candelabra, their jagged arms uplifted towards heaven as if 
 in imprecation, each arm terminating in a screw-shaped 
 tuft of leaves. By the light of the full moon this ghost- 
 like company with its long weird shadows is indeed a 
 startling sight, and one can readily understand why the 
 superstitious Singhalese cannot be persuaded to approach 
 it. I must confess that even I — notwithstanding the as- 
 suring presence of a double-barrelled gun and a revolver — 
 felt decidedly uncomfortable once between ten and eleven 
 o’clock at night when I clambered around in this witch- 
 like thicket, all the more so because Ganymede had pit- 
 eously besought me not to venture near it. A brisk west 
 wind flung the silvery foam of the surf with a noise like 
 thunder high against the sombre cliffs, and chased a whole 
 host of gloomy clouds across the sky. The fleeting shadows 
 of these clouds and the magical light of the full moon, 
 gave to the quivering foliage and tangled branches an effect 
 than which it would be impossible to imagine one more 
 uncanny. 
 
 After you have forced your way through the pandanus 
 thicket, and walked out on the projecting cliffs at the 
 point, you will see on your left the entrance to Belligam 
 Bay, and far to the south the cocoa-palms of the distant 
 Mirissa Point; on the right you will behold a graceful 
 curve of shore fringed with palms, and beyond another 
 rocky point which juts into the water to the north of this 
 stretch of beach, a lovely island overgrown with shrubbery. 
 Of the village from which we are separated by several 
 wooded hills there is nothing to be seen, and no trace of 
 human existence mars the impression of absolute seclusion 
 and solitude that lingers about this enchanted ocean-look- 
 out. Free and unhindered the glance from here flies 
 across the immeasurable stretch of water, and meets with 
 
158 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 terra firma only after it has traveled thirty degrees towards 
 the west, a land that in every particular is the antipode of 
 our luxuriant surroundings — the arid, plantless coast of the 
 Abyssinian Somali negroes. But our thoughts will fly still 
 farther towards the north-west, for the radiant sun bends 
 lower and lower towards the violet horizon, and the witch- 
 ing hour of eve draws near; “ die hehre Stunde, da mit 
 stillem Selinen der feme Schiffer an die Uigur e Heimath 
 denkt” Homeward fly our thoughts to dear Thuringia, and 
 to all the faithful hearts now gathered around the evening 
 lamp or cheerful fire, and perhaps speaking of the wanderer 
 in distant India, while deep snows cover the hills and val- 
 leys with a fleecy mantle. What a contrast to our sur- 
 roundings! The glowing sun now sinks into the ocean and 
 floods the red cliffs on which we stand with a veritable 
 sea of flame. How delicate and airy are the rosy evening 
 clouds, and how lovely the gilded strand with its fringe of 
 stately palms! But we have scarcely time to follow the 
 brilliant play of color, its rapid change of tints, when it lias 
 vanished, and the brief twilight follows so quickly in its 
 wake that it is quite dark before we have carefully wended 
 our way through the palm-grove back to the rest-house. 
 
 Similar and yet different from the attractions of Basa- 
 mnna are those of the opposing point, charming Mirissa. 
 To reach this point in a sail* boat requires, if the breeze is 
 favorable, less than a quarter of an hour; but if you walk 
 -along the shore around the bay several hours are necessary, 
 for you will have to cross the mouth of the Polwatta River, 
 which flows into the bay at its north-east corner. It was 
 a wonderfully bright morning (Jan. 6th), when I sailed 
 across to Mirissa, supplied with provisions for the whole 
 day, as I expected to make several excursions from that 
 >oint. The little fishing village of Mirissa — the “mussel- 
 . illage” which stretches along the foot of the promontory, 
 akes its name from the multitudes of mussels and oysters 
 vhicli cover the rocks along the shore. A large shoal of 
 isli (similar to the anchovy) engaged the attention of the 
 inhabitants as we approached the village. All the availa- 
 ble canoes were distributed among the shoal, and old and 
 v oung were busy with small hand-nets securing as many 
 sh as possible. We doubled the picturesque cape, against 
 whose mighty cliffs the surf dashed furiously, sailed a mile 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 159 
 
 or so farther along the shore, and landed in a sheltered 
 little cove. Accompanied by Ganymede I climbed to the 
 top of the promontory, and rambled through the beauti- 
 ful grove, whose stately trees (chiefly cedars and termi- 
 nalia) were festooned with exquisite climbing plants. 
 Numerous apes and parrots enlivened the grove, but they 
 were too shy for me to get a shot at them. When towards 
 midday we returned to the shore, I noticed near the boat 
 a group of natives; the stately chief at their head, a hand- 
 some man of perhaps forty years, with a gentle, prepossess- 
 ing countenance, approached me, and in the most respect- 
 ful manner presented me with a basket that was filled with 
 mangoes, bananas, oranges, and other noble fruits from his 
 garden, and wreathed with fragrant jasmine, plumiera, and 
 oleander blossoms. With as much cordiality as modesty 
 he begged me to eat my lunch in his hut instead of under 
 the cocoa shade on the shore. After I had thanked him 
 and accepted his hospitable offer he sent some of his peo- 
 ple forward to prepare for me, while William and two of 
 my boatmen followed with our provisions. I myself took 
 a refreshing bath in the ocean. 
 
 In about an hour the chief returned accompanied by a 
 number of the prettiest children, w T ho were adorned with 
 flowers, and led me along a winding path through the cocoa- 
 grove to a part of the village I had not noticed before. 
 Through a neat garden whose path was strewn with flowers 
 we reached the chiefs rather imposing residence, built en- 
 tirely of bamboo canes, and covered with palm leaves. The 
 entrance was decorated in the manner so well understood by 
 the Singhalese with ornaments of braided palm splints. 
 Under the projecting roof, which formed a shady veranda 
 in front of the hut, a large table had been improvised of 
 palm stems and boards, and covered with fresh banana 
 leaves. On it was tastefully arranged the luncheon we 
 had brought from the rest-house, together with large dishes 
 of rice and curry, fresh oysters, bananas, and cocoanuts — 
 the gifts of our generous host. The splendid appetite with 
 which I attacked these tempting viands (it had been sharp- 
 ened by my long ramble and refreshing bath in the sea) was 
 not in the least diminished by the fact that, during the 
 entire meal, the chiefs numerous family stood around the 
 table and watched my every movement with intense in- 
 
160 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 terest, while the rest of the bronze-hued villagers looked on 
 with equal interest from their more distant station in 
 the garden. 
 
 At the conclusion of this original repast, which had been 
 nectar and ambrosia to my keen appetite, my friendly host 
 requested me to inscribe my name and that of my country 
 on the palm leaf he had fastened above the doorway. Then 
 he introduced his family — -at least sixteen children, each 
 one prettier and more attractive than the other. The older 
 ones alone were partly clad, while the younger members of 
 the family wore merely a piece of twine around the loiiTs, 
 on which, in front, hung a silver coin symbolical of cloth- 
 ing. Arms and legs were ornamented with silver bangles. 
 
 Here I beheld the most perfect types of the Singhalese 
 form, and the sight was all the more interesting from the 
 fact that the inhabitants of this part of the coast are 
 famous for their pure, unmixed Singhalese blood. The 
 elegant and voluptuous forms of the elder girls, whose feet 
 and hands were conspicuously small, represented a large 
 proportion of the thirty-two attributes which, according to 
 the Singhalese poets, are necessary for perfect beauty — above 
 all long, black, curly hair, almond-shaped eyes, swelling- 
 lips, bosom like young cocoanuts, etc. The complex- 
 ion is cinnamon-brown in all its different shades; the 
 younger children are the lighter. The fortunate mother 
 of these sixteen handsome children (a stout smiling matron 
 of perhaps forty) was highly gratified when William inter- 
 preted for her benefit the aesthetic admiration I expressed 
 for her domestic felicity. 
 
 In the afternoon the chief and his elder sons conducted 
 me to a small Buddha temple, some distance from the vil- 
 lage, beside which stands a Bo-tree said to be very ancient. 
 I found this specimen of the sacred fig a magnificent fel- 
 low indeed, beside whom all the rest of the trees in the grove 
 were but mere saplings. His mighty trunk branches into 
 two powerful arms, from whose shoulders depends a lovely 
 green mantle of lianas. Other closely-interwoven climbers 
 cover his trunk, beside which the diminutive temple looks 
 like the habitation of a dwarf. The grounds around it are 
 embellished with ornamental plants, among which the sin- 
 gular Amorphophallus is conspicuous by its crimson spadix 
 and huge tuft of tattered foliage. 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 161 
 
 It was late in the afternoon before I returned to Mirissa, 
 where I found another repast of bananas and cocoa milk 
 awaiting me. The entire population escorted me to the 
 shore* where I reluctantly bade adieu to my generous hosts* 
 who, during our brief acquaintance* had exhibited all the 
 most amiable qualities of the Singhalese character. I was 
 very sorry I had not brought some picture books with which 
 to emphasize my gratitude more substantially; in lieu of 
 them I presented the chief with a pocket-knife and one of 
 the large jars I had with me for the reception of captured 
 sea animals. Shortly before sundown we again doubled 
 Mirissa Point* and at the entrance to Belligam harbor were 
 greeted by a sight I shall never forget. On the eastern 
 shore of the harbor* above Mirissa Point* towers, bastion- 
 like* a row of perpendicular cliffs* of shapely form* whosq^ 
 reddish tint* even in the customary light of day* vies with 
 the intense hue of fresh-baked bricks. From them is de- 
 rived the local name of the bay* the “Red Bay” of the 
 ancient charts. Now* in the light of the setting sun* they 
 glowed like coals of fire* while their shadows were the most 
 brilliant cobalt blue. I understood why the Mirissa people 
 spoke of them as the “red lamps*” “ Ratu-Pana”. The 
 eastern sky above these rocks of fire was a pale green* while 
 the cloud masses heaped along the horizon were tinted 
 with the most exquisite roseate hues. Add to these the 
 warm brown of the cocoa and pandanus groves* the deepest* 
 darkest green and violet of the shimmering water* and you 
 have a color-concert of the highest class* such as I never 
 saw before and never expect to see again. The hasty color- 
 sketch I made of it while in the boat will serve merely to 
 recall the magnificent spectacle* and yet what would the 
 Berlin art-critics say to such a display of color ? — those 
 wise judges who condemn every picture that fails to con- 
 form in coloring and composition to the .meagre and defec- 
 tive standard of North Germany! Were they not unani- 
 mous in their condemnation of Ernst Koerner’s splendid 
 picture* in which the daring artist represents a sunset' in 
 Alexandria as brilliantly as it is true to nature? And yet 
 the latter bears the same relation to the gorgeous spec- 
 tacle of Mirissa as the scant vegetation of Egypt does to 
 the wanton exuberance of Ceylon. However what will not 
 bloom along the Spree may not be found in India ! Were 
 
162 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 not many of Edouard Hildebrand’s color-effects pronounced 
 “exaggerated,” when “too weak” might have been more 
 properly applied? But enchanting natural exhibitions 
 like these must be seen to be appreciated. 
 
 XIY. 
 
 Kogalla akd Boralu. 
 
 Amokg the more distant excursions I undertook from 
 Belligam into the surrounding country, those to Kogalla 
 and Boralu are recalled with greatest pleasure, and are of 
 sufficient interest to deserve brief mention. Among the 
 numerous extensive lagoons along the south-west coast of 
 Ceylon which connect many of the rivers debouching on 
 the sea between Colombo and Matura, Kogalla- Were a , the 
 “ Rocky Lake,” is distinguished by extraordinary size and 
 picturesque beauty. This lagoon lies half way between 
 Point de Galle and Belligam, and is of considerable extent, 
 as numerous arms stretch in different directions. Its banks 
 everywhere form densely-wooded hills, above which rise 
 the crests of multitudes of cocoa-palms. Numbers of tiny 
 islands, some of them bare rocks, and some covered with 
 palm-grove or jungle, lend a peculiar charm to the diversi- 
 fied scenery, as do also the idyllic habitations of the Sin- 
 ghalese, which are scattered in groups and singly through- 
 out the verdant thickets. The vegetation is of a crisp 
 freshness that cannot be surpassed. It was a lovely Sunday 
 morning (December 18th) when I took my departure from 
 Belligam before sunrise, in order to reach Kogalla in good 
 season. My hospitable friend from Point de Galle, Mr. 
 Scott, whom I was to meet at Kogalla, had sent a servant 
 with a light wagon and fleet pony to fetch me from Belli- 
 gam; and as we drove swiftly through the primitive villages 
 along the Galle road the indolent inhabitants were just 
 rising from their palm conches and preparing for a morn- 
 ing bath. Directly the young sunbeams penetrated the 
 dew-bespangled groves they became alive with sound and 
 motion, and I enjoyed anew the delicious morning life of 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 163 
 
 he tropics which had so often before enchanted me. My 
 rrival at the place of appointment preceded the time 
 ^reed upon by a whole hour; I had, therefore, sufficient 
 me for a leisurely ramble through the beautiful grove. 
 With Mr. Scott came another German countryman, Herr 
 Reimer, a native of Hamburg, at present engaged in mer- 
 cantile business in India. He had been on a pleasure ex- 
 cursion to Bombay, and was on his way back to Singapore, 
 when chance willed that he should favor us with his com- 
 pany the day before he set sail for that busy port. We 
 drove a short distance farther through the palm gardens, 
 and stopped at a hut on the bank of the Kogalla Lake. 
 Here, a double canoe, that had been tastefully decorated 
 by its Singhalese crew with garlands of flowers and a 
 canopy of braided palm leaves, was waiting for us. These 
 double boats, which are in great favor on the lagoons as 
 well as on the larger rivers, are constructed of two hollow 
 parallel logs, from sixteen to twenty feet long, with a space 
 of five or six feet between them. Stout planks are fastened 
 on them, and over these are laid -boards. Right and left 
 are the slender stems of young areca palms which support 
 a canopy of pandanus mats. Leaves of the fan-palm are 
 stretched curtain-wise between the supports. The benches, 
 which are ranged along both sides of this floating arbor, 
 offer a shady seat from which one may comfortably view the 
 surrounding lake scenery. Six or eight powerful oarsmen 
 squat in the hollow logs, either in front or in the rear of 
 the platform. 
 
 The narrow arm of the lagoon from which we sailed 
 opens into the more extensive basin through a gateway 
 formed by three immense cliffs. These granite blocks are 
 called the “ Three Brothers” ( Tunamalaja ), and are the 
 favorite resort for numerous large crocodiles. No swimmer 
 would be allowed to pass unharmed between these hideous 
 sentinels, who lie here all day long sunning themselves with 
 widely-gaping jaws. 
 
 The lagoon is encircled by dense forests, beyond which 
 rise smiling hills covered with palms. But the principal 
 charm of the lagoon is its pretty little islands decked with 
 cocoa-palms. The slender, gracefully-curved white stems 
 incline in every direction, so that those nearest the shore 
 are reflected entire in the waveless surface of the lake, 
 
164 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 while those farther inland stand proudly upright with theh| 
 feathered crests raised towards heaven. A perfect modJ 
 of such a cocoa bouquet is the charming little Gan-Duv® 
 which lies in the harbor of Belligam immediately in ivorm 
 of the rest-house. ^ 
 
 We landed on a little cocoa island of this sort in Kogalla 
 Lake, to pay a visit to the happy family living in the midst 
 of the lovely palm bouquet. Three naked children, who had 
 been frolicking among the rocks along the shore, at our 
 approach ran screaming with terror towards their mother. 
 The handsome young matron, with a fourth child in her 
 arms, seemed aiso alarmed by the strange visitors, and hur- 
 ried with her little ones into the bamboo hut. Her hus- 
 band, who had been digging sweet potatoes in the garden, 
 now appeared. The shapely, handsome fellow — he was en- 
 tirely naked except the narrow strip of cloth around his 
 loins — came forward, and after respectfully saluting us, 
 asked whether we would like to refresh ourselves with some 
 curumba (young cocoanuts). On our gratefully assenting 
 he immediately climbed one of the tallest palms, and flung 
 down half a dozen of the fine golden fruit known here as the 
 “ king’s cocoanut.” The cool, delicious water it contains is 
 very like lemonade, and is wonderfully refreshing. Then 
 he offered us some luscious bananas on a large caladium leaf, 
 and conducted us into his garden, in which he cultivates a 
 number of choice tropical plants. In answer to our query 
 whether he could grow enough to supply the needs of his 
 family for the entire year, he informed us that in addition 
 to the products of his garden, he caught fish and crabs in 
 the lake, and that he sold enough of these and of the fruits 
 and vegetables he could not use, to buy all the rice and 
 household articles required by his family — more he did not 
 need, or want. Enviable family ! In your little cocoa 
 world you live as in a veritable paradise, and no covetous 
 neighbor disturbs your happiness and peace ! 
 
 We rowed farther out on the lake to a rock island, from 
 whose dense shrubbery peered the white dagoba tower of a 
 Buddhist temple. A flight of stone steps leads from the 
 shore to the temple, on whose altar devout worshippers had 
 scattered offerings of fragrant flowers. The rude wall- 
 paintings, as well as the gigantic image of Buddha, are not 
 different from those I saw in other Buddhist temples. In 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 165 
 
 e rear of the temple are the habitations of tho priests, 
 turesquely situated in the shade of a large Bo-tree, and 
 ording a fine view of the lagoon; the red cliffs form 
 atural terraces. A couple of tall kitool palms, as well as 
 handsome group of cocoa and areca palms, are as effective 
 in the adornment of this charming picture as are the luxu- 
 riant vines of all sorts that festoon the crowns of several 
 mighty cashew trees ( Anacardium ). It was intensely hot 
 when at noon we rowed back to the chief’s hut. The per- 
 fectly motionless water reflected the direct rays of the 
 glowing sun like polished metal; we were therefore agreea- 
 bly surprised to find the temperature in the dusky interior 
 of the hut delightfully cool, and enjoyed the elaborate lun- 
 cheon which had been prepared for us by Mr. Scott’s ser- 
 vant with a keen relish. The meal over, and while my 
 friends indulged in a siesta, I rowed across the lagoon to 
 visit the two large Buddha temples on the opposite shore, 
 and to gather some of the splendid orchids and spice lilies 
 (Marantacece) growing there. I also enriched my sketch- 
 book with several charming subjects, and had to pay for 
 the pleasure with my blood, as multitudes of pestiferous 
 leeches infest the grass along the shore. 
 
 No less attractive if not so extensive as Kogalla-Wewa, 
 is another lagoon, Boralu-Wewa, or “ Pebble Lake,” which 
 I visited several times. I am indebted for the pleasant 
 days I spent there to the second head-man of Belligam, the 
 excellent Arachy. 
 
 He owns a large tract of land in the immediate vicinity 
 of the lagoon, that is planted partly with fruits of various 
 kinds and partly with lemon grass, in the cultivation of which 
 from thirty to forty laborers are employed. The road to 
 Boralu traverses the luxuriant hill country, which stretches 
 for many miles to the foot of the mountains. 
 
 The first natural curiosity encountered on this road is a 
 mighty cocoa-palm, one mile from Belligam, whose stem 
 is divided into three branches, each bearing a crown of 
 foliage. This is an abnormity of rare occurrence. The 
 second wonder is found a mile farther on, on the hither 
 shore of the Polwatta River, beside a Buddha temple at the 
 end of the bridge. It is a magnificent old banyan tree, 
 fantastically garlanded with lianas of all sorts. On the 
 further shore of the river, near Dena-Pitya ( i.e. y cattle 
 
166 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 field), is another huge banyan, a very giant of his order J 
 and one of the largest of these, most remarkable trees im 
 existence. The enormous crown, under which more than a 
 hundred huts might find room and shade, is supported bjl 
 multitudes of powerful stems, each one of which would; 
 deserve admiration were it a single tree. These huge 
 trunks are nothing but the air-roots which have grown 
 from the branches of the main stem. Between them hang- 
 numbers of smaller roots which have not yet reached the 
 ground, and which elucidate the origin of the numerous 
 supports. The densest shadow reigns beneath the leafy 
 canopy through which no ray of light ever penetrates; and 
 one can readily understand why the superstitious Buddhist 
 approaches his sacred fig tree with timid reverence and 
 awe. 
 
 A natural curiosity of quite a different order is to be 
 found in the village of Dena-Pitya. It is a woman of per- 
 haps fifty years, in whom the bones of the thighs are 
 entirely wanting. The upper part of her body, which is 
 well formed and fully developed, rests on the lower bones 
 of the leg. This singular deformity is all the more curious 
 from the fact that the woman has borne three well-formed 
 children, who, like the mother, have only four toes on each 
 foot. Unfortunately a closer investigation is not per- 
 mitted. 
 
 If you follow the road eastward from Dena-Pitya for 
 several miles you will arrive at the celebrated “gem pits,” 
 which, in the preceding century, were reputed to have 
 been exceedingly productive. At present they seem to be 
 exhausted, but a large diamond had been lately found that 
 was sold for £400. This, of course, had attracted numbers 
 of gem hunters to the deserted pits, and the day I visited 
 them, from 160 to 180 laborers were busily washing and 
 sifting gravel in the different excavations. 
 
 From Dena-Pitya the road to Boralu trends in a north- 
 easterly direction, now through lovely palm-forest, now 
 through luxuriant jungle, now across pale green pad(ly 
 fields or marshy meadows, in which black buffaloes with 
 their attendant herons wallow in the mud. Several miles 
 farther on we come to the lagoon, whose entire shore is 
 adorned with the most exuberant vegetation. Around it 
 on every side rise densely-wooded hills. A small island, 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON. 
 
 167 
 
 hed with verdant thicket, lies solitary and alone 
 middle of the lagoon. But its greatest charm is 
 erfect solitude and absence of all human culture. 
 „n the road which skirts its banks does not betray the 
 sence of man, for it is quite hidden by the tall shrubbery, 
 he lagoon, as well as the adjacent region, is rich in ani- 
 nal life. As often as I visited it I found large green lizards 
 from six to seven feet long sunning themselves on the 
 shore, and once I was startled by an enormous snake 
 ( Python molurus) about twenty feet long. Unfortunately 
 the monster slipped into the water before I could get a 
 shot at him. Exciting sport is offered by the apes, whose 
 grunts are heard on every side. I shot several fine ex- 
 amples of the yellow-brown “rilawa” ( Macacus sinicus ), 
 and the large black wanderoo ( Presbytis cephalopterus). 
 But the most fruitful chase was after water-fowl, especially 
 the different species of coot, herons, ibis, flamingoes, peli- 
 cans, etc. Large flocks of these birds at- sundown fly 
 across the lagoon to their nightly quarters. I once brought 
 down half a dozen in a quarter of an hour. Numbers of 
 smaller birds inhabit the thick brushwood along the shore, 
 which is profusely adorned with splendid golden cassia 
 flowers and the crimson blossoms of the melastoma. 
 
 Not far from the northern extremity of the ‘lagoon, and 
 separated from it by one or two wooded hills, lies the 
 Arachy’s woodland garden, a charming spot in which I 
 spent four delightful days. The simple reed hut in which 
 I lodged is entirely hidden by banana trees, and stands on 
 the slope of a hill, from which there is a fine view of the 
 verdant meadows, dark forests, and glimmering lagoons of 
 the surrounding country; the distant background is formed 
 by the blue mountains of the central highlands. Of the 
 laborers’ huts scattered throughout the forest there is 
 nothing to be seen, and the delightful impression of abso- 
 lute solitude is heightened by the unusually rich develop- 
 ment of animal life. I shot numbers of beautiful birds, 
 apes, flying foxes, lizards, etc., and once a large porcupine 
 (Hystrix leucura) over three feet long. 
 
 Gorgeous butterflies and beetles are also numerous. The 
 meadows in the vicinity of the lagoon are covered with 
 gigantic specimens of the curious insectivorous pitcher- 
 plant ( Nepenthes distillatoria). The elegant pitchers, 
 
168 
 
 INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 six inches long at the termination of the leaves, are^B’ b-fi 
 with dainty lids, and frequently filled with captive iSK'stp 
 Brilliant Ampelidce and lovely Nectarinice, like the n^K : 
 ming-birds which they strongly resemble, sport among 
 flowers in great numbers. S 
 
 A ramble around the glittering lagoon will lead yoB 
 through the most beautiful part of the woodland. In som^ 
 places the vines which overrun the fallen trees form so im- 
 penetrable a barrier that it is utterly impossible to force 
 your way through the vegetable chaos without the aid of 
 an axe. Aristolochias, pepper-vines, bauhinias, and big- 
 nonias everywhere twist and twine among the branches in 
 such a manner that only an occasional sunbeam penetrates 
 the tangled mass. The trunks of the trees are covered with 
 parasitic ferns and orchids. Often I sat for hours intent 
 upon securing a copy of this forest picture for my sketch- 
 book. Usually, however, my intentions were without re- 
 sult, my attempts futile. It was utterly impossible to 
 adequately portray the bewildering loveliness of the scene. 
 Nor was the photographic camera of any assistance. The 
 verdant tangle was so dense, so intricate, that a photograph 
 would have reproduced only a confused medley of stems, 
 branches, foliage, etc. 
 
 On the slopes of the hills which encircle his garden the 
 Arachy cultivates lemon grass, from which, by a simple 
 process of distillation, is extracted the odorous lemon-oil, 
 a highly-prized perfume. The lemon-like fragrance per- 
 fumes the whole neighborhood. The laborers employed in 
 the distillery and in cultivating the banana plants, live in 
 the tiny huts scattered throughout the grove; groups of 
 slender cocoa and areca palms, as well as sturdy kitools and 
 talipots, whose feathered crests tower above the lower trees, 
 betray the hiding-places of these bamboo habitations. My 
 visits to the latter, and friendly intercourse with their 
 dusky occupants, made me almost envy the lot of this 
 simple and contented nature-folk. They are pure Sin- 
 ghalese, with clear bronze complexions and delicate forms. 
 The nimble boys were of great assistance to me in collect- 
 ing plants and insects, while the graceful black-eyed girls 
 decorated my little bullock cart with garlands of flowers. 
 
 When, late in the evening, the swift-footed zebu was 
 harnessed, and the two-wheeled cart, in which there was 
 
INDIA AND CEYLON 
 
 169 
 
 om for me beside the Arachy, was set in motion, 
 
 lm leaves. I could not sufficiently admire their persever- 
 nce and fleetness of motion. 
 
 When we entered the darkening grove, the boys would 
 kindle torches and run in front of the cart to light the 
 way. At an abrupt turn of the road we would occasion- 
 ally be deluged with a shower of fragrant blossoms, a ripple 
 of laughter in the dense shrubbery betraying the pranks 
 of the mischievous dryads in hiding there. Among the 
 latter was a niece of the Arachy ’s, whose perfect form might 
 have served as a model for a sculptor, while the beauty of 
 several of the lads rivalled even that of Ganymede. 
 
 One of the nimble fellows would occasionally swing him- 
 self to the pole of our swiftly-rolling cart, then leap dex- 
 trously over the zebu. With such performances the Boralu 
 children would accompany us a long distance, then vanish 
 one by one into the darkness of the night. And now, in- 
 stead of the palm torches of our merry escort, myriads of 
 fireflies and glow-worms would illumine the forest, while I 
 and the Arachy, each busy with his own thoughts, drove 
 swiftlv toward the quiet rest-house of Belligam. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Matuea AHD Do^deka. 
 
 The most distant excursion I made during my sojourn 
 in Belligam, was to the southern point of Ceylon, the long- 
 celebrated Thunder Cape, Dondera Head. Near this 
 point, but a few miles to the westward, is the city of Ma- 
 tura, situated on the banks of the Nilwella-ganga (blue 
 sand river). The road from Belligam to Matura, which I 
 traversed in three hours on the morning of the 18th of 
 January, is a continuation of the beautiful palm avenue 
 from Galle to Belligam, and abounds in the same pictu- 
 resque and agreeably diversified scenery. 
 
3 0112 0 # *«>«>*». — 
 
 Matura, which is the most southerly of Ceylon’s 
 during the reign of the Dutch, in the seventeenth o 
 a prosperous and important commercial station, and 
 principal port for the cinnamon trade of the South Pr 
 ince. The most imposing buildings in the city, as well a. 
 the considerable fort near the mouth of the river on th 
 east bank, betray their Dutch origin. The noble stream 
 is here about the width of the Elbe at Dresden, and is 
 spanned by a handsome new iron suspension bridge. At 
 the western end of the bridge, on the right bank of the 
 river, is the ancient “star fort” of the Dutch, m whose 
 angular casemates, at the invitation of several hospitable 
 English officers, I took up my abode for three or four days. 
 The three jolly bachelors had made themselves very com- 
 fortable in the low, many angled chambers of the ancient 
 fortress, whose massive stone walls preserved the most de- 
 lightful coolness. The walls were tastefully adorned, part- 
 ly 5 with wood-cuts from various illustrated newspapers, and 
 partly with Singhalese weapons, curiosities, and skins of 
 animals. Through the ancient Dutch gateway, above 
 which the inscription, “ Redoute van Eck” may still be 
 seen, you enter a neat flower garden; luxuriant creepers 
 and climbers decorate the embrasures in the walls and the 
 draw-well in the centre of the garden. A pair of. tame 
 apes and a comical old pelican, as well as some smaLxfnds, 
 furnish continual amusement. / , 
 
 A refreshing bath and an excellent Englisj^breaktast 
 with my friendly hosts, which was keenly rohshed after the 
 vegetarian diet of Belligam, so restored me that 1 was 
 ready in a few hours after my arrival for an exclusion o 
 Dondera. This I undertook in a carriage, accompanied by 
 the Chief Ilaugakuhn, the most distinguished Singhalese 
 on the island. He is the last male descendant of the ill us- 
 trious race of ancient Kandyan kings, and has fca ven up 11s 
 residence in Matura in a large, handsome, indeed, almost 
 sumptuous palace, near the mouth of the river. He had 
 called to see me at Belligam the week before, had presented 
 me with several rare and beautiful birds, and invited me to 
 visit him at Matura. His reception of me was as cordial as 
 it was flattering. He would not allow any one but himse 
 to drive me to Dondera. Sis equipage consisted of an ele- 
 gant English phaeton, drawn by two splendid Australian