Volume 1 / Part 1 — CHAPTER I

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.—GEOLOGY.—MINERALOGY.—GEMS, CLIMATE, ETC.

GENERAL ASPECT.—Ceylon, from whatever direction it is approached, unfolds a scene of loveliness and grandeur unsurpassed, if it be rivalled, by any land in the universe. The traveller from Bengal, leaving behind the melancholy delta of the Ganges and the torrid coast of Coromandel; or the adventurer from Europe, recently inured to the sands of Egypt and the scorched headlands of Arabia, is alike entranced by the vision of beauty which expands before him as the island rises from the sea, its lofty mountains covered by luxuriant forests, and its shores, till they meet the ripple of the waves, bright with the foliage of perpetual spring.

The Brahmans designated it by the epithet of "the resplendent," and in their dreamy rhapsodies extolled it as the region of mystery and sublimity[1]; the Buddhist poets gracefully apostrophised it as "a pearl upon the brow of India;" the Chinese knew it as the "island of jewels;" the Greeks as the "land of the hyacinth and the ruby;" the Mahometans, in the intensity of their delight, assigned it to the exiled parents of mankind as a new elysium to console them for the loss of Paradise; and the early navigators of Europe, as they returned dazzled with its gems, and laden with its costly spices, propagated the fable that far to seaward the very breeze that blew from it was redolent of perfume.[2] In later and less imaginative times, Ceylon has still maintained the renown of its attractions, and exhibits in all its varied charms "the highest conceivable development of Indian nature."[3]

Picturesque Outline.—The nucleus of its mountain masses consists of gneissic, granitic, and other crystalline rocks, which in their resistless upheaval have rent the superincumbent strata, raising them into lofty pyramids and crags, or hurling them in gigantic fragments to the plains below. Time and decay are slow in their assaults on these towering precipices and splintered pinnacles; and from the absence of more perishable materials, there are few graceful sweeps along the higher chains or rolling downs in the lower ranges of the hills. Every bold elevation is crowned by battlemented cliffs, and flanked by chasms in which the shattered strata are seen as sharp and as rugged as if they had but recently undergone the grand convulsion that displaced them.

Foliage and Verdure.—The soil in these regions is consequently light and unremunerative, but the plentiful moisture arising from the interception of every passing vapour from the Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal, added to the intense warmth of the atmosphere, combine to force a vegetation so rich and luxuriant, that imagination can picture nothing more wondrous and charming; every level spot is enamelled with verdure, forests of never-fading bloom cover mountain and valley; flowers of the brightest hues grow in profusion over the plains, and delicate climbing plants, rooted in the shelving rocks, hang in huge festoons down the edge of every precipice.

Unlike the forests of Europe, in which the excess of some peculiar trees imparts a character of monotony and graveness to the outline and colouring, the forests of Ceylon are singularly attractive from the endless variety of their foliage, and the vivid contrast of its hues. The mountains, especially those looking towards the east and south, rise abruptly to prodigious and almost precipitous heights above the level plains; the rivers wind through woods below like threads of silver through green embroidery, till they are lost in a dim haze which conceals the far horizon; and through this a line of tremulous light marks where the sunbeams are glittering among the waves upon the distant shore.

From age to age a scene so lovely has imparted a colouring of romance to the adventures of the seamen who, in the eagerness of commerce, swept round the shores of India, to bring back the pearls and precious stones, the cinnamon and odours, of Ceylon. The tales of the Arabians are fraught with the wonders of "Serendib;" and the mariners of the Persian Gulf have left a record of their delight in reaching the calm havens of the island, and reposing for months together in valleys where the waters of the sea were overshadowed by woods, and the gardens were blooming in perennial summer.[1]

Geographical Position.—Notwithstanding the fact that the Hindus, in their system of the universe, had given prominent importance to Ceylon, their first meridian, "the meridian of Lanka," being supposed to pass over the island, they propounded the most extravagant ideas, both as to its position and extent; expanding it to the proportions of a continent, and at the same time placing it a considerable distance south-east of India.[1]

The native Buddhist historians, unable to confirm the exaggerations of the Brahmans, and yet reluctant to detract from the epic renown of their country by disclaiming its stupendous dimensions, attempted to reconcile its actual extent with the fables of the eastern astronomers by imputing to the agency of earthquakes the submersion of vast regions by the sea.[1] But evidence is wanting to corroborate the assertion of such an occurrence, at least within the historic period; no record of it exists in the earliest writings of the Hindus, the Arabians, or Persians; who, had the tradition survived, would eagerly have chronicled a catastrophe so appalling.[2] Geologic analogy, so far as an inference is derivable from the formation of the adjoining coasts, both of India and Ceylon, is opposed to its probability; and not only plants, but animals, mammalia, birds, reptiles, and insects, exist in Ceylon, which are not to be found in the flora or fauna of the Indian continent.[3]

Still in the infancy of geographical knowledge, and before Ceylon had been circumnavigated by Europeans, the mythical delusions of the Hindus were transmitted to the West, and the dimensions of the island were expanded till its southern extremity fell below the equator, and its breadth was prolonged till it touched alike on Africa and China.[1]

The Greeks who, after the Indian conquests of Alexander, brought back the earliest accounts of the East, repeated them without material correction, and reported the island to be nearly twenty times its actual extent. Onesicritus, a pilot of the expedition, assigned to it a magnitude of 5000 stadia, equal to 500 geographical miles.[1] Eratosthenes attempted to fix its position, but went so widely astray that his first (that is his most southern) parallel passed through it and the "Cinnamon Land," the Regio Cinnamomifera, on the east coast of Africa.[2] He placed Ceylon at the distance of seven days' sail from the south of India, and he too assigned to its western coast an extent of 5000 stadia.[3] Both those authorities are quoted by Strabo, who says that the size of Taprobane was not less than that of Britain.[4]

The round numbers employed by those authors, and by the Greek geographers generally, who borrow from them, serve to show that their knowledge was merely collected from rumours; and that in all probability they were indebted for their information to the stories of Arabian or Hindu sailors returning from the Eastern seas.

Pliny learned from the Singhalese Ambassador who visited Rome in the reign of Claudius, that the breadth of Ceylon was 10,000 stadia from west to east; and Ptolemy fully developed the idea of his predecessors, that it lay opposite to the "Cinnamon Land," and assigned to it a length from north to south of nearly fifteen degrees, with a breadth of eleven, an exaggeration of the truth nearly twenty-fold.[1] Agathemerus copies Ptolemy; and the plain and sensible author of the "Periplus" (attributed to Arrian), still labouring with the delusion of the magnitude of Ceylon, makes it stretch almost to the opposite coast of Africa.[2]

These extravagant ideas of the magnitude of Ceylon were not entirely removed till many centuries later. The Arabian geographers, Massoudi, Edrisi, and Aboulfeda, had no accurate data by which to correct the errors of their Greek predecessors. The maps of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries repeated their distortions[1]; and Marco Polo, in the fourteenth century, who gives the island the usual exaggerated dimensions, yet informs us that it is now but one half the size it had been at a former period, the rest having been engulfed by the sea.[2]

Such was the uncertainty thrown over the geography of the island by erroneous and conflicting accounts, that grave doubts came to be entertained of its identity, and from the fourteenth century, when the attention of Europe was re-directed to the nascent science of geography, down to the close of the seventeenth, it remained a question whether Ceylon or Sumatra was the Taprobane of the Greeks.[1]

Latitude and Longitude

.—There has hitherto been considerable uncertainty as to the position assigned to Ceylon in the various maps and geographical notices of the island: these have been corrected by more recent observations, and its true place has been ascertained to be between 5° 55' and 9° 51' north latitude, and 79° 41' 40" and 81° 54' 50" east longitude. Its extreme length from north to south, from Point Palmyra to Dondera Head, is 271-1/2 miles; its greatest width 137-1/2 miles, from Colombo on the west coast to Sangemankande on the east; and its area, including its dependent islands, 25,742 miles, or about one-sixth smaller than Ireland.[1]

General Form.—In its general outline the island resembles a pear—and suggests to its admiring inhabitants the figure of those pearls which from their elongated form are suspended from the tapering end. When originally upheaved above the ocean its shape was in all probability nearly circular, with a prolongation in the direction of north-east. The mountain zone in the south, covering an area of about 4212 miles[1], may then have formed the largest proportion of its entire area—and the belt of low lands, known as the Maritime Provinces, consists to a great extent of soil from the disintegration of the gneiss, detritus from the hills, alluvium carried down the rivers, and marine deposits gradually collected on the shore. But in addition to these, the land has for ages been slowly rising from the sea, and terraces abounding in marine shells imbedded in agglutinated sand occur in situations far above high-water mark. Immediately inland from Point de Galle, the surface soil rests on a stratum of decomposing coral; and sea shells are found at a considerable distance from the shore. Further north at Madampe, between Chilaw and Negombo, the shells of pearl oysters and other bivalves are turned up by the plough more than ten miles from the sea.

These recent formations present themselves in a still more striking form in the north of the island, the greater portion of which may be regarded as the conjoint production of the coral polypi, and the currents, which for the greater portion of the year set impetuously towards the south. Coming laden with alluvial matter collected along the coast of Coromandel, and meeting with obstacles south of Point Calimere, they have deposited their burthens on the coral reefs round Point Pedro; and these gradually raised above the sea-level, and covered deeply by sand drifts, have formed the peninsula of Jaffna and the plains that trend westward till they unite with the narrow causeway of Adam's Bridge—itself raised by the same agencies, and annually added to by the influences of the tides and monsoons.[1]

On the north-west side of the island, where the currents are checked by the obstruction of Adam's Bridge, and still water prevails in the Gulf of Manaar, these deposits have been profusely heaped, and the low sandy plains have been proportionally extended; whilst on the south and east, where the current sweeps unimpeded along the coast, the line of the shore is bold and occasionally rocky.

This explanation of the accretion and rising of the land is somewhat opposed to the popular belief that Ceylon was torn from the main land of India[1] by a convulsion, during which the Gulf of Manaar and the narrow channel at Paumbam were formed by the submersion of the adjacent land. The two theories might be reconciled by supposing the sinking to have occurred at an early period, and to have been followed by the uprising still in progress. But on a closer examination of the structure and direction of the mountain system of Ceylon, it exhibits no traces of submersion. It seems erroneous to regard it as a prolongation of the Indian chains; it lies far to the east of the line formed by the Ghauts on either side of the peninsula, and any affinity which it exhibits is rather with the equatorial direction of the intersecting ranges of the Nilgherries and the Vindhya. In their geological elements there is, doubtless, a similarity between the southern extremity of India and the elevated portions of Ceylon; but there are also many important particulars in which their specific differences are irreconcilable with the conjecture of previous continuity. In the north of Ceylon there is a marked preponderance of aqueous strata, which are comparatively rare in the vicinity of Cape Comorin; and whilst the rocks of the former are entirely destitute of organic remains[2]; fossils, both terrestrial and pelagic, have been found in the Eastern Ghauts, and sandstone, in some instances, overlays the primary rocks which compose them. The rich and black soil to the south of the Nilgherries presents a strong contrast to the red and sandy earth of the opposite coast; and both in the flora and fauna of the island there are exceptional peculiarities which suggest a distinction between it and the Indian continent.

Mountain System.—At whatever period the mountains of Ceylon may have been raised, the centre of maximum energy must have been in the vicinity of Adam's Peak, the group immediately surrounding which has thus acquired an elevation of from six to eight thousand feet above the sea.[1] The uplifting force seems to have been exerted from south-west to north-east; and although there is much confusion in many of the intersecting ridges, the lower ranges, especially those to the south and west of Adam's Peak, from Saffragam to Ambogammoa, manifest a remarkable tendency to run in parallel ridges in a direction from south-east to north-west.

Towards the north, on the contrary, the offsets of the mountain system, with the exception of those which stretch towards Trincomalie, radiate to short distances in various directions, and speedily sink down to the level of the plain. Detached hills of great altitude are rare, the most celebrated being that of Mihintala, which overlooks the sacred city of Anarajapoora: and Sigiri is the only example in Ceylon of those solitary acclivities, which form so remarkable a feature in the table-land of the Dekkan, starting abruptly from the plain with scarped and perpendicular sides, and converted by the Indians into strongholds, accessible only by precipitous pathways, or steps hewn in the solid rock.

The crest of the Ceylon mountains is of stratified crystalline rock, especially gneiss, with extensive veins of quartz, and through this the granite has been everywhere intruded, distorting the riven strata, and tilting them at all angles to the horizon. Hence at the abrupt terminations of some of the chains in the district of Saffragam, plutonic rocks are seen mingled with the dislocated gneiss. Basalt makes its appearance both at Galle and Trincomalie. In one place to the east of Pettigalle-Kanda, the rocks have been broken up in such confusion as to resemble the effect of volcanic action—huge masses overhang each other like suddenly-cooled lava; and Dr. Gygax, a Swiss mineralogist, who was employed by the Government in 1847 to examine and report on the mineral resources of the district, stated, on his return, that having seen the volcanoes of the Azores, he found a "strange similarity at this spot to one of the semi-craters round the trachytic ridge of Seticidadas, in the island of St. Michael."[1]

Gneiss.—The great geological feature of the island is, however, the profusion of gneiss, and the various new forms arising from its disintegration. In the mountains, with the exception of occasional beds of dolomite, no more recent formations overlie it; from the period of its first upheaval, the gneiss has undergone no second submersion, and the soil which covers it in these lofty altitudes is formed almost entirely by its decay.

In the lower ranges of the hills, gigantic portions of gneiss rise conspicuously, so detached from the original chain and so rounded by the action of the atmosphere, aided by their concentric lamellation, that but for their prodigious dimensions, they might be regarded as boulders. Close under one of these cylindrical masses, 600 feet in height, and upwards of three miles in length, the town of Kornegalle, one of the ancient capitals of the island, has been built; and the great temple of Dambool, the most remarkable Buddhist edifice in Ceylon, is constructed under the hollow edge of another, its gilded roof being formed by the inverted arch of the natural stone. The tendency of the gneiss to assume these concentric and almost circular forms has been taken advantage of for this purpose by the Singhalese priests, and some of their most venerated temples are to be found under the shadow of the overarching strata, to the imperishable nature of which the priests point as symbolical of the eternal duration of their faith.[1]

Laterite or "Cabook."—A peculiarity, which is one of the first to strike a stranger who lands at Galle or Colombo, is the bright red colour of the streets and roads, contrasting vividly with the verdure of the trees, and the ubiquity of the fine red dust which penetrates every crevice and imparts its own tint to every neglected article. Natives resident in these localities are easily recognisable elsewhere, by the general hue of their dress. This is occasioned by the prevalence along the western coast of laterite, or, as the Singhalese call it, cabook, a product of disintegrated gneiss, which being subjected to detrition communicates its hue to the soil.[1]

The transformation of gneiss into laterite in these localities has been attributed to the circumstance, that those sections of the rock which undergo transition exhibit grains of magnetic iron ore partially disseminated through them; and the phenomenon of the conversion has been explained not by recurrence to the ordinary conception of mere weathering, which is inadequate, but to the theory of catalytic action, regard being had to the peculiarity of magnetic iron when viewed in its chemical formula.[1] The oxide of iron thus produced communicates its colouring to the laterite, and in proportion as felspar and hornblende abound in the gneiss, the cabook assumes respectively a white or yellow hue. So ostensible is the series of mutations, that in ordinary excavations there is no difficulty in tracing a continuous connection without definite lines of demarcation between the soil and the laterite on the one hand, and the laterite and gneiss rock on the other.[2]

The tertiary rocks which form such remarkable features in the geology of other countries are almost unknown in Ceylon; and the "clay-slate, Silurian, old red sandstone, carboniferous, new red sandstone, oolitic, and cretaceous systems" have not as yet been recognised in any part of the island.[1] Crystalline limestone in some places overlies the gneiss, and is worked for oeconomical purposes in the mountain districts where it occurs.[2]

Along the western coast, from Point-de-Galle to Chilaw, breccia is found near the shores, from the agglutination of corallines and shells mixed with sand, and the disintegrated particles of gneiss. These beds present an appearance very closely resembling a similar rock, in which human remains have been found imbedded, at the north-east of Guadaloupe, now in the British Museum.[1] Incorporated with them there are minute fragments of sapphires, rubies, and tourmaline, showing that the sand of which the breccia is composed has been washed down by the rivers from the mountain zone.

NORTHERN PROVINCES.—Coral Formation.—But the principal scene of the most recent formations is the extreme north of the island, with the adjoining peninsula of Jaffna. Here the coral rocks abound far above high-water mark, and extend across the island where the land has been gradually upraised, from the eastern to the western shore. The fortifications of Jaffna were built by the Dutch, from blocks of breccia quarried far from the sea, and still exhibit, in their worn surface, the outline of the shells and corallines of which they mainly consist. The roads, in the absence of more solid substances, are metalled with the same material; as the only other rock which occurs is a loose description of conglomerate, similar to that at Adam's Bridge and Manaar.

The phenomenon of the gradual upheaval of these strata is sufficiently attested by the position in which they appear, and their altitude above high-water mark; but, in close contiguity with them, an equally striking evidence presents itself in the fact that, at various points of the western coast, between the island of Manaar and Karativoe, the natives, in addition to fishing for chank shells[1] in the sea, dig them up in large quantities from beneath the soil on the adjacent shores, in which they are deeply imbedded[2], the land having since been upraised.

The sand, which covers a vast extent of the peninsula of Jaffna, and in which the coco-nut and Palmyra-palm grow freely, has been carried by the currents from the coast of India, and either flung upon the northern beach in the winter months, or driven into the lake during the south-west monsoon, and thence washed on shore by the ripple, and distributed by the wind.

The arable soil of Jaffna is generally of a deep red colour, from the admixture of iron, and, being largely composed of lime from the comminuted coral, it is susceptible of the highest cultivation, and produces crops of great luxuriance. This tillage is carried on exclusively by irrigation from innumerable wells, into which the water rises fresh through the madrepore and sand; there being no streams in the district, unless those percolations can be so called which make their way underground, and rise through the sands on the margin of the sea at low water.

Wells in the Coral Rock.—These phenomena occur at Jaffna, in consequence of the rocks being magnesian limestone and coral, overlying a bed of sand, and in some places, where the soil is light, the surface of the ground is a hollow arch, so that it resounds as if a horse's weight were sufficient to crush it inwards. This is strikingly perceptible in the vicinity of the remarkable well at Potoor[1], on the west side of the road leading from Jaffna to Point Pedro, where the surface of the surrounding country is only about fifteen feet above the sea-level. The well, however, is upwards of 140 feet in depth; the water fresh at the surface, brackish lower down, and intensely salt below. According to the universal belief of the inhabitants, it is an underground pool, which communicates with the sea by a subterranean channel bubbling out on the shore near Kangesentorre, about seven miles to the north-west.

A similar subterranean stream is said to conduct to the sea from another singular well near Tillipalli, in sinking which the workmen, at the depth of fourteen feet, came to the ubiquitous coral, the crust of which gave way, and showed a cavern below containing the water they were in search of, with a depth of more than thirty-three feet. It is remarkable that the well at Tillipalli preserves its depth at all seasons alike, uninfluenced by rains or drought; and a steam-engine erected at Potoor, with the intention of irrigating the surrounding lands, failed to lower it in any perceptible degree.

Other wells, especially some near the coast, maintain their level with such uniformity as to be inexhaustible at any season, even after a succession of years of drought—a fact from which it may fairly be inferred that their supply is chiefly derived by percolation from the sea.[1]

An idea of the general aspect of Ceylon will be formed from what has here been described. Nearly four parts of the island are undulating plains, slightly diversified by offsets from the mountain system which entirely covers the remaining fifth. Every district, from the depths of the valleys to the summits of the highest hills, is clothed with perennial foliage; and even the sand-drifts, to the ripple on the sea line, are carpeted with verdure, and sheltered from the sunbeams by the cool shadows of the palm groves.

SOIL.—But the soil, notwithstanding this wonderful display of spontaneous vegetation, is not responsive to systematic cultivation, and is but imperfectly adapted for maturing a constant succession of seeds and cereal productions.[1] Hence arose the disappointment which beset the earliest adventurers who opened plantations of coffee in the hills, on discovering that after the first rapid development of the plants, delicacy and languor ensued, which were only to be corrected by returning to the earth, in the form of manures, those elements with which it had originally been but sparingly supplied, and which were soon exhausted by the first experiments in cultivation.

Patenas.—The only spots hitherto found suitable for planting coffee, are those covered by the ancient forests of the mountain zone; and one of the most remarkable phenomena in the oeconomic history of the island, is the fact that the grass lands on the same hills, closely adjoining the forests and separated from them by no visible line save the growth of the trees, although they seem to be identical in the nature of the soil, have hitherto proved to be utterly insusceptible of reclamation or culture by the coffee planter.[1] These verdant openings, to which the natives have given the name of patenas, generally occur about the middle elevation of the hills, the summits and the hollows being covered with the customary growth of timber trees, which also fringe the edges of the mountain streams that trickle down these park-like openings. The forest approaches boldly to the very edge of a "patena," not disappearing gradually or sinking into a growth of underwood, but stopping abruptly and at once, the tallest trees forming a fence around the avoided spot, as if they enclosed an area of solid stone. These sunny expanses vary in width from a few yards to many thousands of acres; in the lower ranges of the hills they are covered with tall lemon-grass (Andropogon schoenanthus) of which the oppressive perfume and coarse texture, when full grown, render it distasteful to cattle, which will only crop the delicate braird that springs after the surface has been annually burnt by the Kandyans. Two stunted trees, alone, are seen to thrive in these extraordinary prairies, Careya arborea and Emblica officinalis, and these only below an altitude of 4000 feet; above this, the lemon-grass is superseded by harder and more wiry species; but the earth is still the same, a mixture of decomposed quartz largely impregnated with oxide of iron, but wanting the phosphates and other salts which are essential to highly organised vegetation.[2] The extent of the patena land is enormous in Ceylon, amounting to millions of acres; and it is to be hoped that the complaints which have hitherto been made by the experimental cultivators of coffee in the Kandyan provinces may hereafter prove exaggerated, and that much that has been attributed to the poverty of the soil may eventually be traced to deficiency of skill on the part of the early planters.

The natives in the same lofty localities find no deficient returns in the crops of rice, which they raise in the ravines and hollows, into which the earth from above has been washed by the periodical rains; but the cultivation of rice is so entirely dependent on the presence of water, that no inference can be fairly drawn as to the quality of the soil from the abundance of its harvest.

The fields on which rice is grown in these mountains form one of the most picturesque and beautiful objects in the country of the Kandyans. Selecting an angular recess where two hills converge, they construct a series of terraces, raised stage above stage, and retiring as they ascend along the slope of the acclivity, up which they are carried as high as the soil extends.[1] Each terrace is furnished with a low ledge in front, behind which the requisite depth of water is retained during the germination of the seed, and what is superfluous is permitted to trickle down to the one below it. In order to carry on this peculiar cultivation the streams are led along the level of the hills, often from a distance of many miles, with a skill and perseverance for which the natives of these mountains have attained a great renown.

In the lowlands to the south, the soil partakes of the character of the hills from whose detritus it is to a great extent formed. In it rice is the chief article produced, and for its cultivation the disintegrated laterite (cabook), when thoroughly irrigated, is sufficiently adapted. The seed time in the southern section of the island is dependent on the arrival of the rains in November and May, and hence the mountains and the maritime districts at their base enjoy two harvests in each year—the Maha, which is sown about July and August, and reaped in December and January, the Yalla which is sown in spring, and reaped from the 15th of July to the 20th September. But owing to the different description of seed sown in particular localites, and the extent to which they are respectively affected by the rains, the times of sowing and harvest vary considerably on different sides of the island.[1]

In the north, where the influence of the monsoons is felt with less force and regularity, and where, to counteract their uncertainty, the rain is collected in reservoirs, a wider discretion is left to the husbandman in the choice of season for his operations.[1] Two crops of grain, however, are the utmost that is taken from the land, and in many instances only one. The soil near the coast is light and sandy, but in the great central districts of Neuera-kalawa and the Wanny, there is found in the midst of the forests a dark vegetable mould, in which in former times rice was abundantly grown by the aid of those prodigious artificial works for irrigation which still form one of the wonders of the island. Many of the tanks, though partially in ruins, cover an area from ten to fifteen miles in circumference. They are now generally broken and decayed; the waters which would fertilise a province are allowed to waste themselves in the sands, and hundreds of square miles capable of furnishing food for all the inhabitants of Ceylon are abandoned to solitude and malaria, whilst rice for the support of the non-agricultural population is annually imported from the opposite coast of India.

Talawas.—In these districts of the lowlands, especially on the eastern coast of the island, and in the country watered by the Mahawelli-ganga and the other great rivers which flow towards the Bay of Bengal and the magnificent estuary of Trincomalie, there are open glades which diversify the forest scenery somewhat resembling the grassy patenas in the hills, but differing from them in the character of their soil and vegetation. These park-like meadows, or, as the natives call them, "talawas," vary in extent from one to a thousand acres. They are belted by the surrounding woods, and studded with groups of timber and sometimes with single trees of majestic dimensions. Through these pastures the deer troop in herds within gunshot, bounding into the nearest cover when disturbed.

Lower still and immediately adjoining the sea-coast, the broken forest gives place to brushwood, with here and there an assemblage of dwarf shrubs; but as far as the eye can reach, there is one vast level of impenetrable jungle, broken only by the long sweep of salt marshes which form lakes in the rainy season, but are dry between the monsoons, and crusted with crystals that glitter like snow in the sunshine.

On the western side of the island the rivers have formed broad alluvial plains, in which the Dutch attempted to grow sugar. The experiment has been often resumed since; but even here the soil is so defective, that the cost of artificially enriching it has hitherto been a serious obstruction to success commercially, although in one or two instances, plantations on a small scale have succeeded to a certain extent.

METALS.—The plutonic rocks of Ceylon are but slightly metalliferous, and hitherto their veins and deposits have been but imperfectly examined. The first successful survey attempted by the Government was undertaken during the administration of Viscount Torrington, who, in 1847, commissioned Dr. Gygax to proceed to the hill district south of Adam's Peak, and furnish a report on its products. His investigations extended from Ratnapoora, in a south-eastward direction, to the mountains which overhang Bintenne, but the results obtained did not greatly enlarge the knowledge previously possessed. He established the existence of tin in the alluvium along the base of the mountains to the eastward towards Edelgashena; but so circumstanced, owing to the flow of the Walleway river, that, without lowering its level, the metal could not be extracted with advantage. The position in which it occurs is similar to that in which tin ore presents itself in Saxony; and along with it, the natives, when searching for gems, discover garnets, corundum, white topazes, zircon, and tourmaline.

Gold is found in minute particles at Gettyhedra, and in the beds of the Maha Oya and other rivers flowing towards the west.[1] But the quantity hitherto discovered has been too trivial to reward the search. The early inhabitants of the island were not ignorant of its presence; but its occurrence on a memorable occasion, as well as that of silver and copper, is recorded in the Mahawanso as a miraculous manifestation, which signalised the founding of one of the most renowned shrines at the ancient capital.[2]

Nickel and cobalt appear in small quantities in Saffragam, and the latter, together with rutile (an oxide of titanium) and wolfram, might find a market in China for the colouring of porcelain.[1] Tellurium, another rare and valuable metal, hitherto found only in Transylvania and the Ural, has likewise been discovered in these mountains, Manganese is abundant, and Iron occurs in the form of magnetic iron ore, titanite, chromate, yellow hydrated, per-oxide and iron pyrites. In most of these, however, the metal is scanty, and the ores of little comparative value, except for the extraction of manganese and chrome. "But there is another description of iron ore," says Dr. Gygax, in his official report to the Ceylon Government, "which is found in vast abundance, brown and compact, generally in the state of carbonate, though still blended with a little chrome, and often molybdena. It occurs in large masses and veins, one of which extends for a distance of fifteen miles; from it millions of tons might be smelted, and when found adjacent to fuel and water-carriage, it might be worked to a profit. The quality of the iron ore found in Ceylon is singularly fine; it is easily smelted, and so pure when reduced as to resemble silver. The rough ore produces from thirty to seventy-five per cent., and on an average fully fifty. The iron wrought from it requires no puddling, and, converted into steel, it cuts like a diamond. The metal could be laid down in Colombo at £6 per ton, even supposing the ore to be brought thither for smelting, and prepared with English coal; but anthracite being found upon the spot, it could be used in the proportion of three to one of the British coal; and the cost correspondingly reduced."

Remains of ancient furnaces are met with in all directions precisely similar to those still in use amongst the natives. The Singhalese obtain the ore they require without the trouble of mining; seeking a spot where the soil has been loosened by the latest rains, they break off a sufficient quantity, which, in less than three hours, they convert into iron by the simplest possible means. None of their furnaces are capable of smelting more than twenty pounds of ore, and yet this quantity yields from seven to ten pounds of good metal.

The anthracite alluded to by Dr. Gygax is found in the southern range of hills near Nambepane, in close proximity to rich veins of plumbago, which are largely worked in the same district, and the quantity of the latter annually exported from Ceylon exceeds a thousand tons. Molybdena is found in profusion dispersed through many rocks in Saffragam, and it occurs in the alluvium in grey scales, so nearly resembling plumbago as to be commonly mistaken for it. Kaolin, called by the natives Kirimattie, appears at Neuera-ellia at Hewahette, Kaduganawa, and in many of the higher ranges as well as in the low country near Colombo; its colour is so clear as to suit for the manufacture of porcelain[1]; but the difficulty and cost of carriage render it as yet unavailing for commerce, and the only use to which it has hitherto been applied is to serve for whitewash instead of lime.

Nitre has long been known to exist in Ceylon, where the localities in which it occurs are similar to those in Brazil. In Saffragam alone there are upwards of sixty caverns known to the natives, from which it may be extracted, and others exist in various parts of the island, where the abundance of wood to assist in its lixiviation would render that process easy and profitable. Yet so sparingly has this been hitherto attempted, that even for purposes of refrigeration, crude saltpetre is still imported from India.[1]

GEMS.—But the chief interest which attaches to the mountains and rocks of this region, arises from the fact that they contain those mines of precious stones which from time immemorial have conferred renown on Ceylon. The ancients celebrated the gems as well as the pearls of "Taprobane;" the tales of mariners returning from their eastern expeditions supplied to the story-tellers of the Arabian Nights their fables of the jewels of "Serendib;" and the travellers of the Middle Ages, on returning to Europe, told of the "sapphires, topazes, amethysts, garnets, and other costly stones" of Ceylon, and of the ruby which belonged to the king of the island, "a span in length, without a flaw, and brilliant beyond description."[1]

The extent to which gems are still found is sufficient to account for the early traditions of their splendour and profusion; and fabulous as this story of the ruby of the Kandyan kings may be, the abundance of gems in Saffragam has given to the capital of the district the name of Ratnapoora, which means literally "the city of rubies."[1] They are not, however, confined to this quarter alone, but quantities are still found on the western plains between Adam's Peak and the sea, at Neuera-ellia, in Oovah, at Kandy, at Mattelle in the central province, and at Ruanwelli near Colombo, at Matura, and in the beds of the rivers eastwards towards the ancient Mahagam.

But the localities which chiefly supply the Ceylon gems are the alluvial plains at the foot of the stupendous hills of Saffragam, in which the detritus of the rocks has been carried down and intercepted by the slight elevations that rise at some distance from the base of the mountains. The most remarkable of these gem-bearing deposits is in the flat country around Ballangodde, south-east of Ratnapoora; but almost every valley in communication with the rocks of the higher ranges contains stones of more or less value, and the beds of the rivers flowing southward from the mountain chain are so rich in comminuted fragments of rubies, sapphires, and garnets[1], that their sands in some places are used by lapidaries in polishing the softer stones, and in sawing the elephants' grinders into plates. The cook of a government officer at Galle recently brought to him a ruby about the size of a small pea, which he had taken from the crop of a fowl.

Of late years considerable energy has been shown by those engaged in the search for gems; neglected districts have been explored, and new fields have been opened up at such places as Karangodde and Weraloopa, whence stones have been taken of unusual size and value.

It is not, however, in the recent strata of gravel, nor in those now in process of formation, that the natives search for gems. They penetrate these to the depth of from ten to twenty feet, in order to reach a lower deposit distinguished by the name of Nellan, in which the objects of their search are found. This is of so early a formation that it underlies the present beds of rivers, and is generally separated from them or from the superincumbent gravel by a hard crust (called Kadua), a few inches in thickness, and so consolidated as to have somewhat the appearance of laterite, or of sun-burnt brick. The nellan is for the most part horizontal, but occasionally it is raised into an incline as it approaches the base of the hills. It appears to have been deposited previous to the eruption of the basalt, on which in some places it reclines, and to have undergone some alteration from the contact. It consists of water-worn pebbles firmly imbedded in clay, and occasionally there occur large lumps of granite and gneiss, in the hollows under which, as well as in "pockets" in the clay (which from their shape the natives denominate "elephants' footsteps") gems are frequently found in groups as if washed in by the current.

The persons who devote themselves to this uncertain pursuit are chiefly Singhalese, and the season selected by them for "gemming" is between December and March, when the waters are low.[1] The poorer and least enterprising adventurers betake themselves to the beds of streams, but the most certain though the most costly course is to sink pits in the adjacent plains, which are consequently indented with such traces of recent explorers. The upper gravel is pierced, the covering crust is reached and broken through, and the nellan being shovelled into conical baskets and washed to free it from the sand, the residue is carefully searched for whatever rounded crystals and minute gems it may contain.

It is strongly characteristic of the want of energy in the Singhalese, that although for centuries those alluvial plains and watercourses have been searched without ceasing, no attempt appears to have been made to explore the rocks themselves, in the debris of which the gems have been brought down by the rivers. Dr. Gygax says: "I found at Hima Pohura, on the south-eastern decline of the Pettigalle-Kanda, about the middle of the descent, a stratum of grey granite containing, with iron pyrites and molybdena, innumerable rubies from one-tenth to a fourth of an inch in diameter, and of a fine rose colour, but split and falling to powder. It is not an isolated bed of minerals, but a regular stratum extending probably to the same depth and distance as the other granite formations. I followed it as far as was practicable for close examination, but everywhere in the lower part of the valley I found it so decomposed that the hammer sunk in the rock, and even bamboos were growing on it. On the higher ground near some small round hills which intercept it, I found the rubies changed into brown corundum. Upon the hills themselves the trace was lost, and instead of a stratum there was merely a wild chaos of blocks of yellow granite. I carefully examined all the minerals which this stratum contains,—felspar, mica, and quartz molybdena, and iron pyrites,—and I found all similar to those I had previously got adhering to rough rubies offered for sale at Colombo. I firmly believe that in such strata the rubies of Ceylon are originally found, and that those in the white and blue clay at Ballangodde and Ratnapoora are but secondary deposits. I am further inclined to believe that these extend over the whole island, although often intercepted and changed in their direction by the rising of the yellow granite." It is highly probable that the finest rubies are to be found in them, perfect and unchanged by decomposition; and that they are to be obtained by opening a regular mine in the rock like the ruby mine of Badakshan in Bactria described by Sir Alexander Burnes. Dr. Gygax adds that having often received the minerals of this stratum with the crystals perfect, he has reason to believe that places are known to the natives where such mines might be opened with confidence of success.

Rubies both crystalline and amorphous are also found in a particular stratum of dolomite at Bullatotte and Badulla, in which there is a peculiar copper-coloured mica with metallic lustre. Star rubies, the "asteria" of Pliny (so called from their containing a movable six-rayed star), are to be had at Ratnapoora and for very trifling sums. The blue tinge which detracts from the value of the pure ruby, whose colour should resemble "pigeon's blood," is removed by the Singhalese, by enveloping the stone in the lime of a calcined shell and exposing it to a high heat. Spinel of extremely beautiful colours is found in the bed of the Mahawelli-ganga at Kandy, and from the locality it has obtained the name of Candite.

It is strange that although the sapphire is found in all this region in greater quantity than the ruby, it has never yet been discovered in the original matrix, and the small fragments which sometimes occur in dolomite show that there it is but a deposit. From its exquisite colour and the size in which it is commonly found, it forms by far the most valuable gem of the island. A piece which was dug out of the alluvium within a few miles of Ratnapoora in 1853, was purchased by a Moor at Colombo, in whose hands it was valued at upwards of four thousand pounds.

The original site of the oriental topaz is equally unknown with that of the sapphire. The Singhalese rightly believe them to be the same stone only differing in colour, and crystals are said to be obtained with one portion yellow and the other blue.

Garnets of inferior quality are common in the gneiss, but finer ones are found in the hornblende rocks.

Cinnamon-stone (which is properly a variety of garnet) is so extremely abundant, that vast rocks containing it in profusion exist in many places, especially in the alluvium around Matura; and at Belligam, a few miles east from Point-de-Galle, a vast detached rock is so largely composed of cinnamon-stones that it is carried off in lumps for the purpose of extracting and polishing them.

The Cat's-eye is one of the jewels of which the Singhalese are especially proud, from a belief that it is only found in their island; but in this I apprehend they are misinformed, as specimens of equal merit have been brought from Quilon and Cochin on the southern coast of Hindostan. The cat's-eye is a greenish translucent quartz, and when cut en cabochon it presents a moving internal reflection which is ascribed to the presence of filaments of asbestos. Its perfection is estimated by the natives in proportion to the narrowness and sharpness of the ray and the pure olive-tint of the ground over which it plays.

Amethysts are found in the gneiss, and some discoloured though beautiful specimens in syenite; they are too common to be highly esteemed. The "Matura Diamonds," which are largely used by the native jewellers, consist of zircon, found in the syenite not only uncoloured, but also of pink and yellow tints, the former passing for rubies.

But one of the prettiest though commonest gems in the island is the "Moon-stone," a variety of pearly adularia presenting chatoyant rays when simply polished. They are so abundant that the finest specimens may be bought for a few shillings. These, with aqua marina, a bad description of opal rock crystal in extremely large pieces, tourmaline, and a number of others of no great value, compose the list of native gems procurable in Ceylon.[1] Diamonds, emeralds, agates, carnelians, opal and turquoise, when they are exhibited by the natives, have all been imported from India.

During the dynasty of the Kandyan sovereigns, the right of digging for gems was a royalty reserved jealously for the King; and the inhabitants of particular villages were employed in their search under the superintendence of hereditary officers, with the rank of "Mudianse." By the British Government the monopoly was early abolished as a source of revenue, and no license is now required by the jewel-hunters.

Great numbers of persons of the worst-regulated habits are constantly engaged in this exciting and precarious trade; and serious demoralisation is engendered amongst the villagers by the idle and dissolute adventurers who resort to Saffragam. Systematic industry suffers, and the cultivation of the land is frequently neglected whilst its owners are absorbed in these speculative and tantalising occupations.

The products of their searches are disposed of to the Moors, who resort to Saffragam from the low country, carrying up cloth and salt, to be exchanged for gems and coffee. At the annual Buddhist festival of the Pera-hara, a jewel-fair is held at Ratnapoora, to which the purchasers resort from all parts of Ceylon. Of late years, however, the condition of the people in Saffragam has so much improved that it has become difficult to obtain the finest jewels, the wealthier natives preferring to retain them as investments: they part with them reluctantly, and only for gold, which they find equally convenient for concealment.[1]

The lapidaries who cut and polish the stones are chiefly Moors, but their tools are so primitive, and their skill so deficient, that a gem generally loses in value by having passed through their hands. The inferior kinds, such as cinnamon-stones, garnets, and tourmaline, are polished by ordinary artists at Kandy, Matura, and Galle; but the more expert lapidaries, who cut rubies and sapphires, reside chiefly at Caltura and Colombo.

As a general rule, the rarer gems are less costly in Europe than in Colombo. In London and Paris the quantities brought from all parts of the world are sufficient to establish something like a market value; but, in Ceylon, the supply is so uncertain that the price is always regulated at the moment by the rank and wealth of the purchaser. Strange to say, too, there is often an unwillingness even amongst the Moorish dealers to sell the rarest and finest specimens; those who are wealthy being anxious to retain them, and few but stones of secondary value are offered for sale. Besides, the Rajahs and native Princes of India, amongst whom the passion for jewels is universal, are known to give such extravagant prices that the best are always sent to them from Ceylon.

From the Custom House returns it is impossible to form any calculation as to the value of the precious stones exported from the island. A portion only appears, even of those sent to England, the remainder being carried away by private parties. Of the total number found, one-fourth is probably purchased by the natives themselves, more than one-half is sent to the Continent of India, and the remainder represents the export to Europe. Computed in this way, the quantity of precious stones found in the island may be estimated at 10,000l. per annum.

RIVERS.—From the mountainous configuration of the country and the abundance of the rains, the rivers are large and numerous in the south of the island—ten of considerable magnitude flowing into the sea on the west coast, between Point-de-Galle and Manaar, and a still greater number, though inferior in volume, on the east. In the low country, where the heat is intense and evaporation proportionate, they derive little of their supply from springs; and the passing showers which fall scarcely more than replace the moisture drawn by the sun from the parched and thirsty soil.

Hence in the plains there are comparatively few rivulets or running streams; the rivers there flow in almost solitary lines to the sea; and the beds of their minor affluents serve only to conduct to them the torrents which descend at the change of each monsoon, their channels at other times being exhausted and dry. But in their course through the hills, and the broken ground at their base, they are supplied by numerous feeders, which convey to them the frequent showers that fall in high altitudes. Hence their tracks are through some of the noblest scenery in the world; rushing through ravines and glens, and falling over precipitous rocks in the depths of wooded valleys, they exhibit a succession of rapids, cataracts, and torrents, unsurpassed in magnificence and beauty. On reaching the plains, the boldness of their march and the graceful outline of their sweep are indicative of the little obstruction opposed by the sandy and porous soil through which they flow. Throughout their entire course dense forests shade their banks, and, as they approach the sea, tamarisks and over-arching mangroves mark where their waters mingle with the tide.

Of all the Ceylon rivers, the most important by far is the Mahawelli-ganga—the Ganges of Ptolemy—which, rising in the south near Adam's Peak, traverses more than one-third of the mountain zone[1], drains upwards of four thousand square miles, and flows into the sea by a number of branches, near the noble harbour of Trincomalie. The following table gives a comparative view of the magnitude of the rivers that rise in the hills, and of the extent of the low country traversed by each of them:—

Embouchure. Square Miles drained in Mountain Zone. Square Miles drained in the low Country, about Length of Course of the main Stream.

Mahawelii-ganga near Trincomalie 1782 2300 134

Kirinde at Mahagan 34 300 62

Wellawey near Hambangtotte 263 500 69

Neivalle at Matura 64 200 42

(Three Rivers) near Tangalle 56 200

Gindura near Galle 180 200 59

Kalu-oya at Caltura 841 300 72

Kalany Colombo 692 200 84

The Kaymel or Mahaoya near Negombo 253 200 68

Dederoo-oya near Chilaw 38 700 70

4212 5100

In addition to these, there are a number of large rivers which belong entirely to the plains in the northern and south-eastern portions of the island, the principal of which are the Arive and the Moderegam, which flow into the Gulf of Manaar; the Kala-oya and the Kanda-lady, which empty themselves into the Bay of Calpentyn; the Maniek or Kattragam, and the Koombookgam, opposite to the Little Bass rocks and the Naveloor, the Chadawak, and Arookgam, south of Batticaloa. The extent of country drained by these latter streams is little short of thirteen thousand square miles.

Very few of the rivers of Ceylon are navigable, and these only by canoes and flat-bottomed paddy boats, which ascend some of the largest for short distances, till impeded by the rapids, occasioned by rocks in the lowest range of the hills. In this way the Niwalle at Matura can be ascended for about fifteen miles, as far as Wellehara; the Kalu-ganga can be traversed from Caltura to Ratnapoora; the Bentotte river for sixteen miles to Pittagalla; and the Kalany from Colombo to the foot of the mountains near Ambogammoa. The Mahawelli-ganga is navigable from Trincomalie to within a short distance of Kanda[1]; and many of the lesser streams, the Kirinde and Wellawey in the south, and the Kaymel, the Dedroo-oya, and the Aripo river on the west of the island, are used for short distances by boats.

All these streams are liable, during the fury of the monsoons, to be surcharged with rain till they overflow their banks, and spread in wide inundations over the level country. On the subsidence of these waters, the intense heat of the sun acting on the surface they leave deserted, produces a noxious and fatal malaria. Hence the rivers of Ceylon present the curious anomaly, that whilst the tanks and reservoirs of the interior diffuse a healthful coolness around, the running water of the rivers is prolific of fevers; and in some seasons so deadly is the pestilence that the Malabar coolies, as well as the native peasantry, betake themselves to precipitate flight.[1]

Few of the larger rivers have been bridged, except those which intersect the great high roads from Point-de-Galle to Colombo, and thence to Kandy. Near the sea this has been effected by timber platforms, sustained by piles sufficiently strong to withstand the force of the floods at the change of each monsoon. A bridge of boats connects each side of the Kalany, and on reaching the Mahawelli-ganga at Peradenia, one of the most picturesque structures on the island is a noble bridge of a single arch, 205 feet in span, chiefly constructed of satin-wood, and thrown across the river by General Fraser in 1832.

On reaching the margin of the sea, an appearance is presented by the outline of the coast, near the embouchures of the principal rivers, which is very remarkable. It is common to both sides of the island, though it has attained its greatest development on the east. In order to comprehend its formation, it is necessary to observe that Ceylon lies in the course of the ocean currents in the Bay of Bengal, which run north or south according to the prevalence of the monsoon, and with greater or less velocity in proportion to its force at particular periods.

CURRENT IN THE NE MONSOON.

In the beginning and during the strength of the northeast monsoon the current sets strongly along the coast of Coromandel to the southward, a portion of it frequently entering Palks Bay to the north of Ceylon; but the main stream keeping invariably to the east of the island, runs with a velocity of from one and a half to two miles an hour, and after passing the Great Bass, it keeps its course seaward. At other times, after the monsoon has spent its violence, the current is weak, and follows the line of the land to the westward as far as Point-de-Galle, or even to Colombo.

CURRENT IN THE S.W. MONSOON.

In the south-west monsoon the current changes its direction; and, although it flows steadily to the northward, its action is very irregular and unequal till it readies the Coromandel coast, after passing Ceylon. This is accounted for by the obstruction opposed by the headlands of Ceylon, which so intercept the stream that the current, which might otherwise set into the Gulf of Manaar, takes a south-easterly direction by Galle and Donedra Head.[1]

There being no lakes in Ceylon[1], in the still waters of which the rivers might clear themselves of the earthy matter swept along in their rapid course from the hills, they arrive at the beach laden with sand and alluvium, and at their junction with the ocean being met transversely by the gulf-streams, the sand and soil with which they are laden, instead of being carried out to sea, are heaped up in bars along the shores, and these, being augmented by similar deposits held in suspension by the currents, soon extend to north, and south, and force the rivers to flow behind them in search of a new outlet.

These formations once commenced, their growth proceeds with rapidity, more especially on the east side of the island; as the southern current in skirting the Coromandel coast brings with it quantities of sand, which it deposits, in tranquil weather, and this being carried by the wind is piled in heaps from Point Pedro to Hambangtotte. Hence at the latter point hills are formed of such height and dimensions, that it is often necessary to remove buildings out of their line of encroachment.[1]

GOBBS ON THE EAST COAST

At the mouths of the rivers the bars thus created generally follow the direction of the current, and the material deposited being dried and partially consolidated in the intervals between the tides, long embankments are gradually raised, behind which the rivers flow for considerable distances before entering the sea. Occasionally these embouchures become closed by the accumulations without, and the pent-up water assumes the appearance of a still canal, more or less broad according to the level of the beach, and extending for miles along the coast, between the mainland and the new formations. But when swollen by the rains, if not assisted by artificial outlets to escape, they burst new openings for themselves, and not unfrequently they leave their ancient channels converted into shallow lagoons without any visible exit. Examples of these formations present themselves on the east side of Ceylon at Nilla-velle, Batticaloa, and a number of other places north and south of Trincomalie.

On the west coast embankments of this kind, although frequent are less conspicuous than on the east, owing chiefly to the comparative weakness of the current. For six months in the year during the north-east monsoon that side of the island is exempt from a current in any direction, and for the remaining six, the current from the south not only rarely affects the Gulf of Manaar, but as it flows out of the Indian Ocean it brings no earthy deposits. In addition to this, the surf during the south-west monsoon rolls with such turbulence on the level beach between Colombo and Point-de-Galle, as in a great degree to disperse the accumulations of sand brought down by the rivers, or heaped up by the tide, when the wind is off the land. Still, many of the rivers are thrown back by embankments, and after forming tortuous lakes flow for a long distance parallel to the shore, before finding an escape for their waters. Examples of this occur at Pantura, to the south of Colombo, and at Negombo, Chilaw, and elsewhere to the north of it.

GOBBS ON THE WEST COAST

In process of time these banks of sand[1] become covered with vegetation; herbaceous plants, shrubs, and finally trees peculiar to saline soils make their appearance in succession, and as these decay, their decomposition generates a sufficiency of soil to sustain continued vegetation.

The process of this conversion may be seen in all its stages at various points along the coast of Ceylon.

The margin of land nearest to the water is first taken possession of by a series of littoral plants, which apparently require a large quantity of salt to sustain their vegetation. These at times are intermixed with others, which, though found further inland, yet flourish in perfection on the shore. On the northern and north-western coasts the glass worts[1] and salt worts[2] are the first to appear on the newly raised banks, and being provided with penetrating roots, a breakwater is thus early secured, and the drier sand above becomes occupied with creeping plants which in their turn afford shelter to a third and erect class.

The Goat's-foot Ipomoea[1], which appears to encircle the world, abounds on these shores, covering the surface to the water's edge with its procumbent branches, which sending down roots from every joint serve to give the bank its first firmness, whilst the profusion of its purple-coloured flowers contrasts strikingly with its dark green foliage.

Along with the Ipomoea grow two species of beans[1] each endowed with a peculiar facility for reproduction, thus consolidating the sands into which they strike; and the moodu-gaeta-kola[2] (literally the "jointed seashore plant,") with pink flowers and thick succulent leaves.

Another plant which performs an important function in the fertilisation of these arid formations, is the Spinifex squarrosus, the "water pink," as it is sometimes called by Europeans. The seeds of this plant are contained in a circular head, composed of a series of spine-like divisions, which radiate from the stalk in all directions, making the diameter of the whole about eight to nine inches. When the seeds are mature, and ready for dispersion, these heads become detached from the plant, and are carried by the wind with great velocity along the sands, over the surface of which they are impelled on their elastic spines. One of these balls may be followed by the eye for miles as it hurries along the level shore, dropping its seeds as it rolls, which speedily germinate and strike root where they fall. The globular heads are so buoyant as to float lightly on the water, and the uppermost spines acting as sails, they are thus carried across narrow estuaries to continue the process of embanking on newly-formed sand bars. Such an organisation irresistibly suggests the wonderful means ordained by Providence to spread this valuable plant along the barren beach to which no seed-devouring bird ever resorts; and even the unobservant natives, struck by its singular utility in resisting the encroachments of the sea, have recorded their admiration by conferring on it the name of Maha-Rawana roewula,—"the great beard of Rawana or Rama."

The banks being thus ingeniously protected from the action of the air above, and of the water at their base, other herbaceous plants soon cover them in quick succession, and give the entire surface the first aspect of vegetation. A little retired above high water are to be found a species of Aristolochia[1], the Sayan[2], or Choya, the roots of which are the Indian Madder (in which, under the Dutch Government, some tribes in the Wanny paid their tribute); the gorgeous Gloriosa superba, the beautiful Vistnu-karandi[3] with its profusion of blue flowers, which remind one of the English "Forget-me-not," and the thickly-matted verdure of the Hiramana-doetta[4], so well adapted for imparting consistency to the soil. In the next stage low shrubs make their appearance, their seeds being drifted by the waves and wind, and taking ready root wherever they happen to rest. The foremost of these are the Scævolas[5] and Screw Pines[6], which grow luxuriantly within the actual wash of the tide, while behind them rises a dense growth of peculiar plants, each distinguished by the Singhalese by the prefix of "Moodu," to indicate its partiality for the sea.[7]

Where the sand in the lagoons and estuaries is more or less mingled with the alluvium brought down by the rivers, there are plants of another class which are equally characteristic. Amongst these the Mangroves[1] take the first place in respect to their mass of vegetation; then follow the Belli-patta[2] and Suriya-gaha[3], with their large hibiscus-like flowers; the Tamarisks[4]; the Acanthus[5], with its beautiful blue petals and holly-like leaves; the Water Coco-nut[6]; the Ægiceras and Hernandia[7], with its sonorous fruits; while the dry sands above are taken possession of by the Acacias, Salvadora Persica (the true mustard-tree of Scripture[8], which, here attains a height of forty feet), Ixoras, and the numerous family of Cassias.

Lastly, after a sufficiency of earth has been formed by the decay of frequent successions of their less important predecessors, the ground becomes covered by trees of ampler magnitude, most of which are found upon the adjacent shores of the mainland—the Margoza[1], from whose seed the natives express a valuable oil; the Timbiri[2], with the glutinous nuts with which the fishermen "bark" their nets; the Cashu-nut[3]; the Palu[4], one of the most valuable timber trees of the Northern Provinces; and the Wood-apple[5], whose fruit is regarded by the Singhalese as a specific for dysentery.

But the most important fact connected with these recently formed portions of land, is their extraordinary suitability for the growth of the coco-nut, which requires the sea-air (and in Ceylon at least appears never to attain its full luxuriance when removed to any considerable distance from it)[1], and which, at the same time, requires a light and sandy soil, and the constant presence of water in large quantities. All these essentials are combined in the sea-belts here described, lying as they do between the ocean on the one side and the fresh-water lakes formed by the great rivers on the other, thus presenting every requisite of soil and surface. It is along a sand formation of this description, about forty miles long and from one to three miles broad, that thriving coco-nut plantations have been recently commenced at Batticaloa. At Calpentyn, on the western coast, a like formation has been taken advantage of for the same purpose. At Jaffna somewhat similar peculiarities of soil and locality have been seized on for this promising cultivation; and, generally, along the whole seaborde of Ceylon to the south and west, the shore for the breadth of one or two miles exhibits almost continuous groves of coco-nut palms.

Harbours.—With the exception of the estuaries above alluded to, chiefly in the northern section of the island, the outline of the coast is interrupted by few sinuosities. There are no extensive inlets, or bays, and only two harbours—that of Point-de-Galle which, in addition to being incommodious and small, is obstructed by coral rocks, reefs of which have been upreared to the surface, and render the entrance critical to strange ships[1]; and the magnificent basin of Trincomalie, which, in extent, security, and beauty, is unsurpassed by any haven in the world.

Tides.—The variation of the tides is so slight that navigation is almost unaffected by it. The ordinary rise and fall is from 18 to 24 inches, with an increase of about a third at spring tides. High water is later on the eastern than on the western coast; occurring, on full and new moon, a little after eleven o'clock at Adam's Bridge, about 1 o'clock at Colombo, and 1.25 at Galle, whilst it attains its greatest elevation between 5 and 6 o'clock in the harbour of Trincomalie.

Red infusoria.—On both sides of the island (but most frequently at Colombo), during the south-west monsoon, a broad expanse of the sea assumes a red tinge, considerably brighter than brick-dust; and this is confined to a space so distinct that a line seems to separate it from the green water which flows on either side. Observing that the whole area changed its position without parting with any portion of its colouring, I had some of the water brought on shore, and, on examination with the microscope, it proved to be filled with infusoria, probably similar to those which have been noticed near the shores of South America, and whose abundance has imparted a name to the "Vermilion Sea" off the coast of California.

THE POPULATION OF CEYLON, of all races, was, in 1857, 1,697,975; but this was exclusive of the military and their families, both Europeans and Malays, which together amounted to 5,430; and also of aliens and other casual strangers, forming about 25,000 more.

The particulars are as follow:—

Provinces Whites. Coloured. Total. Population to the sq. mile.

Males. Females. Males. Females. Males. Females.

Western. 1,293 1,246 293,409 259,106 294,702 260,352 146.59

N. Western 21 11 100,807 96,386 100,828 96,397 59.93

Southern 238 241 156,900 149,649 157,138 149,890 143.72

Eastern 201 143 39,923 35,531 40,124 35,674 16.08

Northern 387 362 153,062 148,678 153,449 149,040 55.85

Central 468 204 143,472 116,237 143,940 116,441 52.57

2,608 2,207 887,573 805,587 890,181 807,794 69.73