ELEPHANTS AT HOME.
"That would be a sight worth seeing," one of the boys answered; "but the subject of elephants is not a new one, as you know we visited the elephant hunting-ground in Siam, and heard all about the mode of catching the game."
"Quite right," replied the Doctor; "but, while we are about it, I may as well tell you some things about elephant-hunting here that we did not learn in Siam, because they are peculiar to Ceylon. In Siam they hunt by driving into the corral, as we saw, but in Ceylon they not only have the corral system, but a mode of hunting byPanickeas."
The boys opened their eyes, and asked what the Panickea was. Was it something to eat or wear, or was it a weapon to be used in killing the game?
"You are wrong in each guess," said Doctor Bronson; "the Panickea is a professional elephant-hunter, and his people have followed the business from time immemorial. He has the skill and cunning of the North American Indian or any other wily savage, and possesses a great deal of bravery, which is frequently called into use in his profession. The Panickeas live in the northern and north-eastern parts of Ceylon, andwhen not engaged at their time-honored business they devote themselves to fishing, or the pursuit of other game than the elephant, or they hire out as guides and servants to foreigners.
"Two of these men will go on an elephant-hunt armed only with a few strong ropes of different sizes. They track the elephant through the forest or in the long grass of the open plain, and steal up to him with the agility of cats, and without being seen. The elephant has a habit of swinging one of his hind-legs when standing still; they take advantage of this circumstance to slip a noose over his leg; and if he is not swinging it they tickle him, as though a fly were biting, and thus induce him to make the desired movement.
TYING UP AN ELEPHANT.
"As soon as they have noosed his leg they dart from under his feet; if they are in the forest, one of them takes a quick turn of the rope around a tree, but if in the open country, they drop it and run toward the nearest woods. The elephant pursues them, trailing the rope after him, and as soon as they are in the shelter of the trees they manage to secure him in the way I have described. Then, while he is tied by the hind-leg, one of the men worries him and attracts his attention, while the other slips a noose around one of his fore-legs. Then he lies down and rolls in anger, and while he is doing it they bind him still more.
"When he is tied up and safe they leave him, and he is subdued by the process that we learned about in Siam. Great numbers of elephants were formerly caught in this way and sent to India, where there has always been a good market for them, and they are also largely employed on public works in Ceylon. When the English obtained possession of this country, elephants were so numerous that as many as 200 could be taken at a single drive in a corral, and the beasts did great damage to the rice crops in the part of the country where they lived. A reward was offered for all elephants killed, and so great was the slaughter that the bounty was paid for 3500 killed in the north of Ceylon in the years 1846-'48, and for 2000 killed in the southern part in the five years previous to 1856.
"This wholesale destruction made such a scarcity that not enough elephants could be obtained for the public works, and the Government not only took off the bounty but ordered that no more licenses to shoot elephants should be granted.
ELEPHANTS UNDER A BANYAN-TREE.
"Elephants generally travel in herds varying from half a dozen to a hundred or more; but it is not unusual to find solitary elephants that have become separated from the herds from causes that are yet unknown to anybody. These solitary elephants are known as "rogues;" the name describes their character, and is an exact translation of the Cingalese 'hora-alliah' or thieving elephant. They don't even associate with other rogues, but travel singly, and do all the mischief they can; nearly all the damage to crops is caused by them, and some of them delight in concealing themselves near the roads and paths, and killing men who attempt to pass. They are very hard fighters, and the glory of killing a rogue elephant is greater than that of slaughtering a whole herd of ordinary ones.
"Another game animal that we might encounter on our way to thecoast is the buffalo. Remember, the buffalo of Ceylon is no relative of the American buffalo, but is quite a different animal. He is domesticated, and used for ploughing and other heavy work, just as he is in the Philippine Islands and other parts of the East we have visited. He is docile enough when tame, but when wild he shows a good deal of ugliness not only in his appearance but in his disposition.
"There are many herds of wild buffaloes in the northern and north-eastern parts of the island, and they prefer the open country to the forests; during the daytime they like to lie in the mud or in pools of water, and are generally to be found around the old tanks in the lower parts of the country. They get into the water with only their heads visible, and if they can find a mud-bank to roll in when water is scarce, they are quite well satisfied. When a herd is disturbed, and there is a possibility of danger, they draw up in line with some of the oldest in front, and when they get in this position it is an even chance whether they will advance or retreat. They often rush at the natives when the latter are not looking for them, and more natives are killed by the buffaloes than by all other kinds of wild animals put together.
A NATIVE TREED BY A BUFFALO COW AND CALF.
"I once saw a native driven up a tree by a buffalo cow and calf, buthe was not altogether unoffending in the business, as he had fired at the cow and wounded her. He just managed to keep clear of her horns and seize a lower limb of the tree; he clung to his gun, and as soon as he got safely among the limbs he reloaded and shot his pursuer. The calf remained, and he fastened a rope to its neck and with some difficulty dragged it home.
A DANGEROUS PREDICAMENT.
"The same day I was pursuing a buffalo that tried to escape by swimming a small pond. I ran around the head of the pond so as to meet him when he came out of the water, and had just entered it when he struck the solid ground. I fired when he was about twenty yards away, and put a bullet into his shoulder, which was the best spot I could aim at as he stood. I followed it with another bullet in the other shoulder, and with the same effect; the blood flowed steadily from both the wounds, but he did not show the slightest inclination to fall; on the contrary, he stood there and faced me, and made ready to charge. I felt for another cartridge to finish him with, or at all events to keep him where he was. To my horror, I found that I had no more cartridges about me, and my servants who carried my guns and ammunition were at least half a mile away.
"I dared not turn around to run, as my doing so would have beenthe signal for him to pursue me, and if he did, I had not the slightest chance of escape from being gored and trampled to death. I saw my gun-bearer coming, but he was still far off, and the brute was making ready for a charge. Men must think quickly under such circumstances, and my wits came to my aid.
"I had some loose powder in a flask, and a handful of small coins that would just go into the muzzle of the gun. Luckily the coins were in a rouleau, just as you see gold in a banking-house; it took me only a few seconds to drop in a heavy charge of powder and the roll of coins on top, and the moment he rushed on me I fired.
"The load struck him full in the face and stunned him; the instant I fired I turned and ran for a tree about a hundred yards away, and the time gained by bewildering him with the shot was just enough, without a second to spare. He stood near the foot of the tree and watched me for some time, the blood pouring from the two wounds I had made in his shoulders; after a while one of my attendants crept through the grass and passed my rifle to me, with a lot of fresh cartridges, and I was soon able to finish the brute. Sir Samuel Baker had a similar experience while hunting in Ceylon; in fact, it was so nearly like mine that the two stories have sometimes been mistaken for each other.
"And now that you know what might be seen on the road to Trincomalee," said Doctor Bronson, rising from his chair, "we will get ready for Newera-Ellia. We go there partly by rail, and partly by carriage-road; the train starts at seven o'clock, and leaves the main line at the first station from Kandy. The branch carries us to Gampola, and there we leave the train and take a carriage the rest of the way."
They were off the next morning, according to the programme; the railway only carried them a dozen or fifteen miles, and then they mounted what was called a coach, though it was really nothing more than a strong wagon, adapted to the rough roads of the mountains. The first part of the ride took them through a series of rice-fields, coffee plantations, and native villages of huts thatched with palm-leaves: they had an opportunity of seeing the native children playing before the doors in all the glory of nothing to wear.
NATIVE HOUSE AND CHILDREN.
Up and up went the road, and after a time the coffee estates gave way to tea plantations. The Doctor told the boys that coffee in Ceylon grows at any elevation between 1800 and 4000 feet, and tea flourishes between 4000 and 6000 feet. Tea culture in Ceylon is in its infancy, and most of those who have tried it have found it unprofitable; but they are persevering, and feel confident that it will turn out all right.The tea-planters say they have the same climate as Java, and if the latter can produce tea to advantage, there is no reason why it should not be profitable in Ceylon.
They had charming scenery all the way, and in many places it was unusually attractive. At one station (where they changed horses) the view from the veranda included a magnificent water-fall, where a good-sized river dashed in three streams over a precipice and united just below in a single torrent. As they rode along, the panorama of mountain and valley was constantly changing, and every minute seemed to have a new surprise in store for them.
They reached Newera-Ellia late in the afternoon, and were glad to surrender their seats in the uncomfortable coach. They had found the air growing steadily cooler as they approached their destination, and as the afternoon advanced it became necessary for them to don their thick overcoats. A fire was burning in the parlor of the hotel, and our friends were not at all reluctant to accept some of the heat it threw out.
There were carpets on the floors, and the walls of the house were made as though there was really a desire to exclude the cold rather than to welcome it. To the youths who had been so long in the tropics, and had struggled with the heat nearly every day and hour since their departure from Hong-Kong, it was rather a strange sensation to tread on soft carpets and sit around a cheerful fireplace, and they began to wonder whether they were really in Ceylon, or were dreaming.
We will let the boys tell the story of their visit to this part of the island, which they did in their next letter to friends at home. Following the plan they had found so effective, they divided the labor and devoted themselves to different parts of the description; they did it so skilfully, that when they had finished the letter it appeared to have been the effort of but one person instead of two. Perhaps they had a hint from Doctor Bronson, and possibly they did the whole work without assistance;quien sabe?
A TROPICAL FERN.
Here is the letter referred to in the last chapter:
"We have had a delightful experience since we left Kandy, and should have been very sorry to miss the journey to Newera-Ellia. The road winds in a zigzag among the hills, and sometimes we could look down hundreds of feet upon the torrents that foamed along through the valleys. For several miles the route follows the Mahavilla-Ganga, which is the largest river in Ceylon, and goes into the sea near Trincomalee; wherever the road crosses the river it does so on a substantial bridge, and at one place there is a suspension-bridge so high up that it made us dizzy to look over the side.
"They tell us that twenty years ago the country was prettier than it now is, because the hills were then covered with dense forests of tropical trees and ferns, which have been cleared off to make room for coffee plantations. There is one charming valley called Kotmalee, which has a range of mountains on the south-east side, some of them several thousand feet high, and the Mahavilla-Ganga winds through it, sometimes presenting a smooth surface, and again broken into foam by the rapidity of its current over the rocks. At the end of the valley the mountains rise quite sharply, and we had a hard climb of fifteen miles to get from there to Newera-Ellia. The road ascends one foot in every fourteen, and you can readily understand that the horses had no easy work to drag the wagon up this steep incline.
"Here we are, 112 miles from Colombo, and 6240 feet above the level of the sea. We are on an undulating plain three miles long by one wide, and the ground is covered with rich grasses and with lots of flowers in blossom; the mountains rise around us, but there are not a great many of them, as we are nearly up to the height of most of the mountains of Ceylon.
"Newera-Ellia is a sort of Saratoga for the inhabitants of Ceylon, or rather for the foreign portion of them. People come up here as often as they can to escape the heat of the coast, and even the inhabitants of Kandy do not despise the place. The change is something like magic; in Colombo the heat and dampness are oppressive, but up here you need a fire and blankets to keep comfortable, and in the winter the ground in the morning is white with frost. Roses and other flowers of the temperate zone grow here, and the blackbird and robin have been imported, and get along finely. Even a day or two of this atmosphere has a wonderful effect upon the visitor from Colombo, and some who cannot afford a longer time run up here on Saturday, return Monday, and find themselves vastly benefited.
"We are so high up that the air is rarefied, but we have no difficulty in breathing. Many of the invalids, however, find it hard work to get their breath, and some have been compelled to go away very soon after their arrival, on account of the injury to their lungs. There is quite a town here, with church, hotel, reading-room, and other public resorts, and in some seasons of the year the place is crowded so that a stranger cannot get in. The temperature is about 53° in the morning, 70° to 75° at noon, and 60° at sunset, and it gets very cold in the night, with frost on the ground from December to March. All the English vegetables and flowers grow here, and so do strawberries and other bush fruits, but peaches will not ripen, and the cherry-trees turn to evergreens, and will not even blossom.
WAITING FOR THE RACES.
"The Government has built a sanitarium for the officers and soldiers of the troops serving in Ceylon, and there is always a detachment stationed here. They have a race-track also, and on frequent occasions they get up some exciting matches. Everybody goes—natives and all—and it must be an interesting sight to see the different races at the races. [N.B.—This joke was intended by Frank, who made it.] The natives are very fond of watching the horses go round the track, and sometimes they follow the example of the English, and make bets on the result.
"They have a band of music, and it plays every other day in front of the regimental barracks; and there is a club where they have balls andreceptions: they keep hounds for hunting elk and other large game, and another pack for hunting hares. Altogether they manage to have a good time, and any one who can possibly spare a couple of days to visit Newera-Ellia ought to come here.
"But there are drawbacks to the fun, and it is only fair that we should tell you about them. There are insects of various kinds to trouble you, and the worst of them is the land-leech. He does not live in the water like the ordinary leech, but grows on the trees and bushes, and crawls on the ground; he can drop on you from the trees when you pass beneath them, and he can climb up your body and get inside your clothes. When empty they are not much larger than a needle, but when filled with blood they are as large as a goose-quill, and about two inches long. You can hardly see the young ones, as they are little thicker than hairs; but let them once get fastened to you, and you feel them. So bad are they in some places that they drive people out of houses, and they have attacked persons travelling in carriages by dropping on them from the trees as they passed beneath.
"If your blood is in a bad condition, their bites are apt to cause sores which are difficult to heal. In the last war the English had with the natives, the leeches caused more deaths than the snakes, and a great many of the sepoys and coolies employed here died from their bites. We have been bitten by a few of them, and don't want any more experience of the kind. It is a good plan to carry a lemon in your pocket, and when one of these leeches fastens to you, a few drops of lemon-juice will make him let go. The natives smear their bodies with cocoa-nut oil, which prevents the leeches taking hold, and this is perhaps the reason why so much oil is used in Ceylon.
"They have water-leeches in great number, which frequently cause the deaths of cattle. They enter the nostrils of the poor brutes when the latter go to drink, and after gorging themselves they fall off and leave the wound to bleed. Very often it does so till the blood, accumulating in the throat, suffocates the animal.
"While on this subject, we may as well say that Ceylon is reputed to contain more than 10,000 kinds of insects, besides several parts of the island to hear from. The list of all these varieties might possibly be a little tedious, and so we won't try to give it, but will briefly say they include pretty nearly everything you can think of in the insect line. In the morning, and also in the evening, the hum of the wings of those that can fly is like the noise of machinery in a mill; at noon they are comparatively still, as the heat seems to shut them up. The most of themdisappear at the end of the monsoons, but they come up again ready for business in a month or two.
"The white ant, as already mentioned, is one of the most destructive of these pests, since he will eat nearly all kinds of wood, and there are persons who say he is fond of knife-blades, needles, and similar things, and can even get away with a cannon-ball. Closets, where meat and other things for the table are kept, must have the feet stand in saucers filled with water, or they will be over-run by these ants; and in some parts of the island it is the practice to fix the beds in the same way, to prevent the disturbance of the occupants.
SCORPION.
CENTIPEDE.
"There are moths, and beetles, and centipedes, and millipedes, and scorpions, and dragon-flies, and many other things in great number, and there is a little thing they call the tic that is about as large as the head of a pin, and makes trouble enough to be heavier than a cat. He gets on the skin, and buries himself in it, and you must lift him out with the point of a knife if you want to be rid of him, as you generally do. There are bees, and fleas, and caterpillars, and there is a curiosity they call the guinea-worm, which grows under the skin around a person's ankles, and gives him lots of trouble. It is like a fine thread, and grows to be several feet in length; in order to get rid of it, the flesh must be cut into, and every bit of the worm removed, and you can readily understand that the operation is not an agreeable one.
"Well, that's enough about these unpleasant things—we'll come back to other matters.
"There is a dome-shaped mountain on the north-eastern side of the valley which is called Pedrotallagalla, and is the highest in Ceylon, being 8280 feet above the sea, or nearly 800 feet more than Adam's Peak, the most famous mountain of the island. We wanted to go to Adam's Peak, but find we cannot spare the time, and so we must be contented with taking the story of the journey from others.
"Adam's Peak lies between Newera-Ellia and the sea-coast; in fact, it is nearer to Colombo, in an air-line, than Kandy is. To go from here, we should have to cross two or three mountains, and the best way to visit it from Colombo is to go from that place directly to Ratnapoora, on the Kaluganga. Ratnapoora is a nice village at the foot of the mountains, and just as you leave the flat country of the coast; from there the distance to the summit of the peak, as the crow flies, is about eight miles: but it is nearly twenty by the roads and paths.
A VIEW IN THE FOOT-HILLS.
"We will give the story of the ascent of the peak in the words of the gentleman who told it to us, as near as we can remember them. Here goes:
"'We left Ratnapoora early in the morning on horseback, and rode through the jungle to Gillemalle, which is a village of a few huts on a little plain among the thick forests. From here the road winds through hills and valleys in a jungle so dense that for more than half the way all the light of the sun is excluded. You can hardly imagine a more up-and-down road than this, and it is very pretty, as there are many tiny brooks and larger streams dashing among the rocks, and every turn in the way gives you a fresh surprise. But the land-leeches spoil a good dealof your pleasure, as it is impossible to keep them off, and once in a while you have to stop and remove such as have got beneath your clothes.
NATIVES OF THE FOREST.
"'You have good reason to know the forest is not desolate, as you frequently see the tracks of wild elephants, pigs, leopards, and other game animals, and it is not impossible that you may encounter some of these denizens of the wood. But if you let them alone they are not likely to disturb you—and, as they can hear you coming long before you have a chance of seeing them, they are pretty certain to keep out of your way.
"'The road rises quite rapidly as you go from Gillemalle, and every little while you have fine views from the openings in the forest on the crests or sides of the foot-hills. The plains stretch away below you, and the hills seem like great mounds of tropical verdure, as they are covered quite to their summits with trees and smaller vegetation. In some places the road winds around cliffs so steep that you can roll stones over theirsides, and hear them rattling and crashing for several minutes in the deep valleys below.
"'The last inhabited spot on the road is Palabaddula, and here you must leave your horses and proceed on foot, as the path is quite impassable for saddle animals. You cross a ravine on a narrow foot-bridge, and then you go on through a thick forest till you come to a level platform or bit of table-land called Deabetine. A traveller who came here five hundred years ago says, "There was at Deabetine the mark of Adam's foot, a statue with the left hand on the knee, and the right hand raised toward the west, and, lastly, the house that Adam made with his own hands." The mark of the foot and the statue are still there, but the house has gone.
"'After leaving Deabetine, the road goes to a large torrent, where it is the habit of pilgrims to bathe, in order to purify themselves for the visit to the sacred temple on the summit. A little way beyond the stream you come to four flights of steps cut in the solid rock; nobody can tell their age, but they were there eight hundred years ago, and were then so ancient that their origin was unknown. The way is so steep that the ascent would be very difficult without these steps.
"'Then you pass another ravine, and then you come to a great rock about fifty feet high that forms the summit. Here you climb by hanging on to some iron chains fixed in the solid rock, and I don't see how anybody ever got up there without them; they have been there a thousand years or so, and are mentioned by Marco Polo and other ancient writers. Some are newer than others, and are probably the gifts of rich pilgrims to replace those that were worn or rusted out.
TEMPLE ON ADAM'S PEAK.
"'When you stand all panting and exhausted on the summit, you find yourself on a little terrace surrounded by a low wall, and containing a temple which is held in place by iron chains that go over its roof. The temple itself is on a mass of rock at one side of the terrace, and inside of the temple is the famoussri-padaor footprint.
"'When you examine the footprint you cannot help thinking that Adam, or Buddha, or whoever stepped there, must have been a person of extraordinary size, as the print is about five feet long by two and a half in width. It is apparently a natural indentation in the rock, extended artificially to represent the shape of the human foot. There was formerly a cover of solid gold over the footprint, but it was lost long ago, and the only cover there at present is made of brass.
"'The pilgrimages of three classes of religionists are made to this temple—by Mohammedans and Malabar Christians in honor of Adam,and by Buddhists in honor of the founder of their religion. The three are often mixed together during the month of March, which is the time of the greatest number of visitors; but in spite of this mingling, and the opposite views professed by the pilgrims, there is no quarrelling, and all seem impressed with the solemnity of the place, and the magnificence of the view from the mountain. The panorama is a very fine one; the southern half of Ceylon lies before you like a map, and away in the distance you see the sunlight sparkling on a beach of shining sand, while beyond it the light plays on the waves of the ever-restless sea. The rivers wind through the plain like threads of silver in a rich carpet, and the breezes from the cinnamon groves and the flowers in perennial bloom bring delicious odors to your nostrils. The man who can look from the top of Adam's Peak, when the clouds have vanished and the great picture is spread before him, and not be impressed by the sight, must be made of something little better than the inanimate earth.
"'On the summit is a spring from which the pilgrims drink; occasionally leaves are found floating on the water of this spring, and the natives believe it has a connection with paradise, and that these leaves come from there. There is also a spring near Deabetine; the leaves that are found in it are thought to come from a garden that Adam established not far away, but anybody who tries to find it will never be allowed to return to his friends.
TROPICAL GROWTH NEAR RATNAPOORA.
"'There were two of us who made the ascent, accompanied by four local guides and servants to help us along. When we came back to Ratnapoora our men said we could return to the sea by the way of Caltura, by descending the Kalu River, as the current was swift and the journey would take only a short time. They procured us a boat which consistedof two hollow logs a few feet apart, and connected by a platform; on this platform we had a comfortable place to sit, while a couple of boatmen stood at bow and stern and managed the craft. We had several narrow escapes from being overturned in the rapids; but all went well, and we arrived safely at the great road where we took the coach for Colombo.'"
The letter was finished at a late hour in the evening, and soon after the closing words had been written the boys were snug in bed. The next morning they started for the return journey to Colombo; while descending one of the long hills between Newera-Ellia and the railway-station a part of the harness of their team gave way, and the coach was overturned on the very edge of a ravine where a brook rattled along a couple of hundred feet below. Had they gone two yards farther they would have tumbled down the whole distance and been dashed to pieces, and it is fair to believe the entire trio felt that they had had a very narrow escape. The driver told them that accidents were of rare occurrence, but he admitted that once in a while they had something of the sort. Of late years the road has been considerably improved by the authorities, but it is yet far from being complete.
They reached Colombo on the evening after leaving Newera-Ellia, and returned to their old quarters in the hotel. In the morning, while the Doctor was busy with plans for their departure, the boys read and corrected their letter, and at the suggestion of Frank a postscript was added, giving a brief account of the return journey, and closing with a description of the visitors that were just then calling on them.
A MORNING CALLER.
"Our visitors are very numerous," said the letter, "and their names are crows. They are all through the room, and they stand on the blinds and the window-sills, and watch their chances when we are breakfasting to steal something from our plates. One of them just now came downand took away a cracker from a plate that was on the table where we are writing, and it is not unusual for them to seize the bread you have in your fingers. They are a little shy of strangers, but not much; and as for the waiters in the hotel, they don't mind them at all. They are never harmed by anybody, and consequently it is not surprising that they are so tame.
"There are many insect visitors, but we have grown so accustomed to their presence that we do not mind them until they actually crawl over us. They are worse in the evening than by daylight, as the lamps and candles attract them; they do not wait for an introduction, but make themselves at home as though everything belonged to them."
EVENING VISITORS.
There are several ways of going from Ceylon to India. Doctor Bronson and the youths took them all into consideration before making their final decision, and settling upon their route of travel.
TEMPLE AND TREES AT TUTICORIN.
Once a week a steamer goes from Colombo to Tuticorin, which is at the southern end of the great peninsula of Hindostan. From Tuticorin there is a railway which connects with the whole railway system of India; few people are aware of the extent to which railway construction has been carried in the land of the Bramins, and it is not surprising that theboys listened with something akin to astonishment, as the Doctor leaned back in his chair and grew eloquent over what the builders of the iron road had accomplished in this part of Asia.
"At the time of the Mutiny, in 1857," said the Doctor, "there were barely 200 miles of completed railway in all India. From Calcutta northward the line was finished to Ranegunge, 120 miles; and there were about seventy miles in operation from Bombay toward Poonah. At present there are nearly if not quite 7000 miles of iron road in India, and every year sees a considerable addition to the grand total of miles. By zigzagging across the country somewhat, it is possible to travel from Tuticorin in the south to Lahore and Mooltan near the northern frontier. The railways are of great importance in a military point of view, and if they had existed in 1857 as they exist now, the Mutiny would have been next to impossible.
"Let me give you a general idea of the entire system as it now is, and for convenience we will start from Calcutta, the capital. The general direction of the line from Calcutta is north-westerly. Benares is 476 miles away, Allahabad nearly a hundred miles farther, and Cawnpore another hundred. Delhi is 955 miles from Calcutta, and when we step from the train at Sher-shah, on the banks of the Indus, eleven miles from Mooltan, we are 1510 miles from the capital city. From Sher-shah we can proceed by steamboat on the Indus to Kotree in Scinde, whence another railway will carry us to Kurrachee (Kur-rach-ee), near the entrance of the Persian Gulf. There are several branches intended as feeders to the main line, and also as military conveniences—notably, one from Benares to Lucknow, and another from Cawnpore to Lucknow. From Allahabad to Bombay there is a well-built line, and there is a line from Delhi and Agra through Central India which enables the traveller to reach Bombay by a different route from the one just mentioned.
"From Bombay there is a line northward to Baroda, and southward to Madras and Tuticorin, and each of these lines has several feeders that you can see on the maps. The whole net-work is well devised, and has cost a vast amount of money, but it is worth all it cost. A writer, who recently travelled through this country, has summed the matter up as follows:
"'From the foot of the Himalayas and the Hindoo-Koosh, the iron horse has a pathway to Cape Comorin and the tepid waters of the tropic seas. In the north he drinks the waters from the melted snows of the loftiest mountains on the globe; in the south he sniffs the spice-laden breezes from palm-clad Ceylon, and sees the pole-star hugging the horizon and anticipating the advent of the Southern Cross.'
"We will not go by way of Tuticorin," Doctor Bronson continued, "as we shall have quite enough of travelling by rail without making the long journey; and, besides, it would carry us to Bombay if we stuck to the railway, and we want to keep that city for our point of departure from India. We can, if we like, go by rail from Tuticorin to Madras, and thence to Calcutta by steamer; the objection to this course is that there are not many things of importance to see on the way, and the journey will be fatiguing.
"For the same reason that we do not wish to go all the way by rail, we will not take the weekly steamer from Colombo to Bombay, as it brings us to that city before we have seen anything of Northern India.
"After considering all the routes, I think we had best take the weekly steamer from Colombo to Calcutta; it stops at nearly a dozen points on the coast, and gives us an opportunity to see a great deal that we might otherwise miss. It travels generally at night, and stops during the day at a port, and thus we can economize our time to decided advantage. The steamer leaves this afternoon, and we can go leisurely on board after lunch."
The recommendations of the Doctor were immediately accepted by Frank and Fred, and they completed their preparations for departure by packing and securing their trunks. At the appointed hour the baggage was piled into a cart drawn by a couple of bullocks, and went to the landing-place in charge of the porter of the hotel. The distance being slight, and the afternoon cool, the party followed on foot.
"I declare," said Frank, as he watched the retreating cart with the baggage, "I've forgotten something!"
"What is that?" Fred asked, in astonishment; "I thought it was one of our rules never to forget anything?"
"I haven't forgotten anything of our property, if that's what you mean," Frank responded; "but it's something I have intended to write about."
"That's no serious consequence," said the Doctor, "as you will have an abundance of time on the steamer. What is it?"
"It's the curious vehicles they have here in Ceylon, drawn by bullocks, and by bullocks that trot, too. I'll write it out when I get on the ship, and make sure I don't forget any more."
They had no trouble in getting to the steamer, though they narrowly escaped a drenching from a wave that broke over the bows of the boat that took them across the harbor. As soon as they were on board Frank went below, and devoted himself to the production of the following:
A FASHIONABLE "HACKERY."
"They have carriages for hire in the cities of Ceylon which are called hackeries, and are drawn by hump-backed bullocks or sacred oxen. They are almost entirely used by natives, and it is very rarely that you see a European riding in one of them. These animals can travel thirty miles a day easily, and can trot a mile or so as fast as an ordinary horse, but you generally see them going at a walk. A nice hackery has a roof over the top in a sort of dome shape, and there are cushions on which the passengers sit. Frequently you see whole families of five or six persons crowded into one of these carriages, and the bullocks trotting smartly along as though they enjoyed their work. Then they have carts for carrying baggage and similar work; in a case where a man in New York would send for a dray, he sends for a bullock-cart in Colombo or Kandy.
"Doctor Bronson says these animals are the sacred oxen of India and the East. Their native name is zebu, and their scientific oneBos Indicus; they are distinguished by a hump on the shoulders, and are much smaller than the oxen of America. In India they are worshipped, and they run around the temples and do pretty much as they please; they give a great deal of trouble to the dealers in grain, as they have no manners at all, and help themselves to anything they want. The natives consider it a sin to kill them, but their sacred character does not save them from doing a great deal of hard work.
"There is a story that at one time the sacred bulls of the temples ofBenares, in India, extended their wanderings into the part of the city where the English live; there was a slaughter-house there where the foreigners were provided with beef, and the bulls discovered that some of their number disappeared mysteriously whenever they went near the slaughter-house. What became of them was never known; but suddenly the bulls gave up going there, or even into the English quarter, and sometimes, when a young bull ventured too far, one of the old ones on watch would bellow and call him back. I cannot say if this is really so, but give the story as I heard it.
EASTERN MODE OF FEEDING OXEN.
"In many of the stables where these animals are kept, the stall is arranged so that when the occupant is feeding he must place his fore-feet considerably higher than his hind ones. The natives believe that this process causes the food to digest more readily than if all the feet of the ox are on a level."
When Frank had finished, it was Fred's turn to think of something that had been forgotten.
"It will never do," said he, "to leave our accounts of Ceylon without saying something about Adam's Bridge. As you have looked after the oxen, it is my duty to attend to the story of the bridge."
And so, after collecting from the books they had with them and from personal information, Fred wrote as follows:
"Ceylon is fifty-three miles from India, but is almost connected with it by some islands and a reef that together form what is called Adam's Bridge. There are two islands, Ramisseram and Manaar, and the rest of the bridge is a reef of sand and sandstone. There are several openings, the largest being forty yards wide and ten feet deep; the Government has proposed to deepen it so as to allow the passage of large ships, and will probably do so one of these days. It is certain to cost a great deal of money, and that is why it has been postponed.
"The Hindoo legends say the bridge was made by one of their gods, assisted by an army of monkeys, who built it in a single night. The Bramins also claim it, and so do the Mohammedan Arabs, who gave it the name of Adam's Bridge, and say that Adam came from India and crossed on this bridge on his way to heaven, which he reached by jumping from the peak which bears his name. Some of the old accounts declare that Ceylon was once joined to the Continent, and several English engineers and geologists who have examined the formation of the land say this is quite probable.
PART OF A HINDOO PAGODA.
"On the island of Ramisseram is a large Hindoo pagoda, where a great many pilgrims go at certain seasons of the year. There are also two very old tombs which the Mohammedans say belong to Cain and Abel. Some writers have thought the Garden of Eden was in Ceylon, and the Arabs say that when the children of Adam were scattered they went north toward India, and Cain and Abel were buried in this island."
The steamer sailed about sunset, and on the next morning she anchored in the harbor of Point de Galle. The day was passed in pleasant drives and walks around the place, and in closing up letters which would be taken a couple of days later by the weekly steamer that touches there on her way from the Far East to Europe. At sunset the steamer sailed again, and turned around the coast of Ceylon to head northward into the Bay of Bengal, and the next day she steamed along the coast with the shore nearly always in sight, her destination being Negapatam, on the coast of India.
There were about a dozen passengers in the cabin of the steamer; they included, besides our friends, two government officials with their wives, a member of the clergy of the Church of England, two planters going from Ceylon to Madras on business, and a little group of three strangers who could not be made out at a first glance. It soon became known that they were actors who had been playing in the cities of Ceylon, and were now on their way to India, where they hoped to make a profitable tour of the country.
On the second evening of the voyage the actors entertained the rest of the passengers with songs and recitations till it was time to put out the lights. The next morning Frank and Fred were in consultation with Doctor Bronson relative to a scheme they had concocted for contributing to the fund of amusement. The Doctor gave his assent, with the remark that they had been working and studying very diligently for some time, and a little recreation would be quite in order. "Besides," said he, "it is quite proper when at sea for all to contribute what they can convenientlyto the entertainment of their fellow-passengers; they are doubly rewarded for the effort, as they secure occupation for themselves, and thus pass the voyage agreeably, and at the same time add to the happiness of those who are on board with them."
For a couple of days very little was seen on deck of the two youths; the weather was of the temperature that kept the cabins comfortable, and enabled them to conduct the work on which they were so mysteriously engaged. The steamer stopped at Negapatam for a couple of hours, but the captain said there was nothing to be seen on shore, and, therefore, the labor was not interrupted. Then she steamed on to Pondicherry, and in the evening, when dinner was over, a notice was circulated to the effect that there would be a grand exhibition in the cabin, to which the captain and passengers were invited. "It will be," said the bill, "a panorama of the wonderful adventures of Robinson Crusoe, in prose and poetry, and also in pictures prepared at vast expense by two celebrated artists who have engaged passage on this ship regardless of expense."
At the appointed time the passengers assembled, and the boys stepped before the curtain—a table-cover borrowed from the steward. Frank was the speaker of the occasion, while Fred had charge of the panorama: the latter consisted of a series of sketches in heavy crayon, with occasional touches from a box of water-colors to heighten the effect. As soon as quiet had been secured, Frank began:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,—It is hardly to be supposed there is any one in this vast audience who has not read the story of Robinson Crusoe, which we are about to illustrate; consequently, I will not tell you about him, especially as he never existed at all, and was never thought of till a Scotch sailor named Alexander Selkirk lived all alone for four years on an island in the Pacific Ocean. The adventures of this sailor gave Daniel Defoe the hint to write the story of Crusoe: it has been done in verse by some one else, and it is the poetical version which I shall now give you."Frank paused an instant while Fred placed the first picture of the series on a temporary easel, composed of the back of a chair, which stood on the end of the cabin table. As soon as the picture was adjusted Frank recited the lines:"'When I was a lad my fortune was bad,My grandfather I did lose, oh;I'll wager a fan you've heard of the man,His name it was Robinson Crusoe.'ROBINSON CRUSOE."Now," said Frank, "it is customary to sing this song to an accompaniment, but we are out of music to-night, and the audience must be contented with a recitation. If we gave it in song, we should expect you to join in the chorus, which would be in the following words:"Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!Sing tinky ting tang, sing tinky ting tang,Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!'"By this time Fred had changed the scene—that is, he had removed the first picture and brought out the second. Frank then proceeded:THE SHIPWRECK."'You've read in a book of a voyage he took,How the raging whirlwinds blew, soThat the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.'"But we need have no fears of sharing the same fate," said Frank, "as we are in a steamer instead of a sailing-ship, and the raging whirlwinds would not be so likely to drive us on shore; and, besides, we are not in the season of typhoons, and everything promises us a prosperous voyage. Next picture."The appearance of this work of art was the signal for the recital of the third verse of the old song:LANDING OF ROBINSON CRUSOE."Poor soul! none but he escaped from the sea.Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?At length he was thrown on an island unknown,And saved was poor Robinson Crusoe.'"The next picture was produced with great promptness, and the audiencewas left to pick out the various properties of the hero of the story, while Frank continued:CRUSOE'S EQUIPMENT."'But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,And another old matter or two, soThat by dint of his thrift he managed to shiftPretty well for poor Robinson Crusoe.'"A contemplation of this admirable painting," said Frank, "will show you how much may be accomplished by very small means with a man of determination, or what amounts to pretty much the same thing, a man that can't help himself. It is hardly necessary to say that the hero of our story was obliged to make the best of everything, and the next picture shows how he accomplished it.CRUSOE AND HIS GUN."He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,The cattle away from him flew, soThat but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.'"CRUSOE AND HIS PETS.By this time Fred had become accustomed to handling the sketches, and the change was made with great alacrity. Frank rested a moment till the eyes of the audience had sufficiently scanned the picture presented for their inspection, and which revealed the interior of Crusoe's residence when that gentleman was at dinner, with his pets about him. "The parrot will speak for himself," said Frank, "and therefore we will proceed with the narrative. The rest of the pets have never been known to talk, except in fables, and therefore we may conclude that they had nothing to say, though there is no reason to doubt that they were always glad to see their master, and did their best to console him and to lighten the burden of his solitude. From the appearance of things we may regard the family as a happy one."'He happened to save from the merciless waveA poor parrot, believe me 'tis true, soThat when he came home from his wearisome roam,She'd cry out 'Poor Robinson Crusoe!'""The explanation of the next picture may possibly be a tax on your credulity," said Frank; "but it is so stated in the song, and I cannot alter the words as they were originally written. The author doubtless availed himself of what is called 'the poet's license,' and followed Crusoe's example of using everything at his command.CRUSOE'S CASTLE."'Then he got all the wood that ever he could,And stuck it together with glue, soHe made him a hut, in which he did putAll the flocks of Robinson Crusoe.'"At the termination of the second line Frank placed his fingers together to form an imaginary house-roof and indicate the way in which the castle of Robinson Crusoe was constructed. He explained to the audience that there had been much controversy concerning this matter, and it had happened in several instances that individuals who experienced no difficulty in believing Robinson Crusoe had really existed, and accepted his story as a true one, were thrown into a condition of doubt by the announcement that he employed glue in building his house. They argued that, in the first place, glue was difficult if not impossible for him to procure; and, secondly, it was a very poor material to use in cementing a roof. "But we will drop this discussion," said he, "and go on to the next scene. You will allow me to remark that the arrival of Friday made an end of the solitude of Robinson Crusoe, and gave him the human companionship he desired.ARRIVAL OF FRIDAY."While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy—For be sure 'twas his business to do so—They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,Lived Friday with Robinson Crusoe.PORTRAIT OF THE HERO."And here is the portrait of the hero of the story," said Frank, as the next picture was brought out, "and you can judge of his personal character by the appearance of his features. His clothing is not such as would secure him ready admission to the best society of England and America; but, as he had no prying neighbors, and nobody to criticise his actions, it is not at all strange that he adopted this style of dress, particularly when there were no tailors and no ready-made clothing-stores on the island."'Then he wore a large cap, and his clothes without nap,And a beard as long as a Jew, soThat when dressed in his coat he resembled a goatMore than poor Robinson Crusoe.'"And now comes the last," said Frank, as the closing picture of the series was produced. "And allow us to thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, and to express the hope that our efforts at whiling away part of the evening have not been altogether in vain. Alexander Selkirk disappeared from history when he left the island of Juan Fernandez and returned to England, and the story of Robinson Crusoe terminates in the same way. Our exhibition closes with the welcome arrival of the ship.A SAIL! A SAIL!"'At length within hail he saw a stout sail,And he took to his little canoe, soWhen he reached the ship they gave him a trip,And to England brought Robinson Crusoe.'"
"Ladies and Gentlemen,—It is hardly to be supposed there is any one in this vast audience who has not read the story of Robinson Crusoe, which we are about to illustrate; consequently, I will not tell you about him, especially as he never existed at all, and was never thought of till a Scotch sailor named Alexander Selkirk lived all alone for four years on an island in the Pacific Ocean. The adventures of this sailor gave Daniel Defoe the hint to write the story of Crusoe: it has been done in verse by some one else, and it is the poetical version which I shall now give you."
Frank paused an instant while Fred placed the first picture of the series on a temporary easel, composed of the back of a chair, which stood on the end of the cabin table. As soon as the picture was adjusted Frank recited the lines:
"'When I was a lad my fortune was bad,My grandfather I did lose, oh;I'll wager a fan you've heard of the man,His name it was Robinson Crusoe.'
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
"Now," said Frank, "it is customary to sing this song to an accompaniment, but we are out of music to-night, and the audience must be contented with a recitation. If we gave it in song, we should expect you to join in the chorus, which would be in the following words:
"Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!Sing tinky ting tang, sing tinky ting tang,Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!'"
By this time Fred had changed the scene—that is, he had removed the first picture and brought out the second. Frank then proceeded:
THE SHIPWRECK.
"'You've read in a book of a voyage he took,How the raging whirlwinds blew, soThat the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"But we need have no fears of sharing the same fate," said Frank, "as we are in a steamer instead of a sailing-ship, and the raging whirlwinds would not be so likely to drive us on shore; and, besides, we are not in the season of typhoons, and everything promises us a prosperous voyage. Next picture."
The appearance of this work of art was the signal for the recital of the third verse of the old song:
LANDING OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.
"Poor soul! none but he escaped from the sea.Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?At length he was thrown on an island unknown,And saved was poor Robinson Crusoe.'"
The next picture was produced with great promptness, and the audiencewas left to pick out the various properties of the hero of the story, while Frank continued:
CRUSOE'S EQUIPMENT.
"'But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,And another old matter or two, soThat by dint of his thrift he managed to shiftPretty well for poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"A contemplation of this admirable painting," said Frank, "will show you how much may be accomplished by very small means with a man of determination, or what amounts to pretty much the same thing, a man that can't help himself. It is hardly necessary to say that the hero of our story was obliged to make the best of everything, and the next picture shows how he accomplished it.
CRUSOE AND HIS GUN.
"He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,The cattle away from him flew, soThat but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.'"
CRUSOE AND HIS PETS.
By this time Fred had become accustomed to handling the sketches, and the change was made with great alacrity. Frank rested a moment till the eyes of the audience had sufficiently scanned the picture presented for their inspection, and which revealed the interior of Crusoe's residence when that gentleman was at dinner, with his pets about him. "The parrot will speak for himself," said Frank, "and therefore we will proceed with the narrative. The rest of the pets have never been known to talk, except in fables, and therefore we may conclude that they had nothing to say, though there is no reason to doubt that they were always glad to see their master, and did their best to console him and to lighten the burden of his solitude. From the appearance of things we may regard the family as a happy one.
"'He happened to save from the merciless waveA poor parrot, believe me 'tis true, soThat when he came home from his wearisome roam,She'd cry out 'Poor Robinson Crusoe!'"
"The explanation of the next picture may possibly be a tax on your credulity," said Frank; "but it is so stated in the song, and I cannot alter the words as they were originally written. The author doubtless availed himself of what is called 'the poet's license,' and followed Crusoe's example of using everything at his command.
CRUSOE'S CASTLE.
"'Then he got all the wood that ever he could,And stuck it together with glue, soHe made him a hut, in which he did putAll the flocks of Robinson Crusoe.'"
At the termination of the second line Frank placed his fingers together to form an imaginary house-roof and indicate the way in which the castle of Robinson Crusoe was constructed. He explained to the audience that there had been much controversy concerning this matter, and it had happened in several instances that individuals who experienced no difficulty in believing Robinson Crusoe had really existed, and accepted his story as a true one, were thrown into a condition of doubt by the announcement that he employed glue in building his house. They argued that, in the first place, glue was difficult if not impossible for him to procure; and, secondly, it was a very poor material to use in cementing a roof. "But we will drop this discussion," said he, "and go on to the next scene. You will allow me to remark that the arrival of Friday made an end of the solitude of Robinson Crusoe, and gave him the human companionship he desired.
ARRIVAL OF FRIDAY.
"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy—For be sure 'twas his business to do so—They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,Lived Friday with Robinson Crusoe.
PORTRAIT OF THE HERO.
"And here is the portrait of the hero of the story," said Frank, as the next picture was brought out, "and you can judge of his personal character by the appearance of his features. His clothing is not such as would secure him ready admission to the best society of England and America; but, as he had no prying neighbors, and nobody to criticise his actions, it is not at all strange that he adopted this style of dress, particularly when there were no tailors and no ready-made clothing-stores on the island.
"'Then he wore a large cap, and his clothes without nap,And a beard as long as a Jew, soThat when dressed in his coat he resembled a goatMore than poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"And now comes the last," said Frank, as the closing picture of the series was produced. "And allow us to thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, and to express the hope that our efforts at whiling away part of the evening have not been altogether in vain. Alexander Selkirk disappeared from history when he left the island of Juan Fernandez and returned to England, and the story of Robinson Crusoe terminates in the same way. Our exhibition closes with the welcome arrival of the ship.
A SAIL! A SAIL!
"'At length within hail he saw a stout sail,And he took to his little canoe, soWhen he reached the ship they gave him a trip,And to England brought Robinson Crusoe.'"
The boys bowed and retired, the audience applauded, and then one of the actors recited Cowper's lines on Alexander Selkirk, beginning
"I am monarch of all I survey,My right there is none to dispute."
Then another of the party sung "A Life on the Ocean Wave;" and just as he reached the concluding lines the whistle of the steamer sounded, the engines came to a sudden stop, and the meeting, adjourned in a body to the deck to see what was the matter.
Lights gleamed on the shore and on ships at anchor near them; they saw at a glance that there was nothing alarming in the situation, and hardly needed the assurance of the captain, who came aft just then, that they were in front of Pondicherry.
The steamer lay quietly at anchor during the night, though she rolled somewhat from the motion of the waves that sweep almost constantly from the Bay of Bengal. The anchorage is only an open roadstead, and sometimes the surf beats on the sandy beach with such force that landing is next to impossible. There is a small river emptying into the sea at Pondicherry, but it is only accessible to native craft, which draw but little water, and to the smallest of foreign vessels.
In the morning all the passengers went on shore, with a warning from the captain to return before noon, as he should sail for Madras a few minutes after the sun had passed the meridian. There was hardly any wind blowing, and the surf was quite light on the beach: our three friends united with one of the other passengers in hiring a boat rowed by eight men, which was to take them ashore and back again to the steamer for the aggregate sum of four dollars. As soon as the four were seated in the stern of the craft the natives pulled vigorously at their oars, and shot the boat ahead with satisfactory velocity; they accompanied their rowing with a song which was sung by the two sides of rowers alternately, and then by the whole crew in chorus. The words, as near as the boys could make them out, were about as follows:
"Ahee! ma wala deery—Ahee! ja nala meery—Ahee! wala, nala, jan!"