CHAPTER II.
CEYLON AND INDIA.

ON coming to anchor in the harbour of Colombo, the ship is surrounded by a number of outrigger canoes; not “outrigger” like a racing eight, but having a wooden beam fixed so as to float, say, six feet from the side of the boat, which is long, narrow, and high out of the water.

It requires some courage on the part of the newcomer to trust himself in such an unfamiliar vessel; but confidence is soon restored, and one may look around and admire the beauties of the harbour. There is a fascination about the place as viewed from the anchorage which makes one look forward eagerly to a time on land after the week or two spent at sea. The dark shade under the large trees or verandas of the houses, contrasting with the glaring sunshine, is very attractive; and then, on landing, strange sights meet the eye on every hand : the curious-looking Singalese men, with their straight black hair done up in a knot behind, and combs to keep it in place, their peculiar costume of a small jacket and a “comboy,” or piece of gaudy-patterned print stuff enveloping the legs; the little miniature bullock-carts, drawn by an animal not much bigger than a large dog; and the lightly built “jinrickshas” trailed along by running men.

But before we get more absorbed in the infatuation of the place, let me tell a little tale for the benefit of those who intend going on by the boat, which has but called in here for a few hours. A fellow-passenger of mine, anxious to have as long a time as possible in this glorious land, remained on shore till just the time for the starting of his steamer, the Carthage. He then took a boat, and in due time found himself alongside the gangway of the big ship. Safely on deck, he looked around and noticed many new faces among the passengers, whom he supposed were coming on from Ceylon. But next he imagined he must have got among the second saloon people, as he found the cabin arrange­ments so unfamiliar. Going from end to end of the ship, he began to suspect something was amiss, and finally had to ask awkwardly if he was on board his ship, whereupon, to his intense mortification, he was pointed out the Carthage some distance off, just at that moment starting on her voyage. Darting to the side, he jumped into the first boat, and begged the men to row for dear life to catch up the great mail-boat. But too late! The Carthage was already past the pier-head, ploughing her way to Australia, with all my friend's earthly belongings lying about in disorder in his cabin!

As it turned out, it was a freak of destiny, for I believe he is settled in Colombo to this day.

The Grand Oriental Hotel, said to be the finest hotel in the Fast, is a splendid cool building, with huge galleried dining-hall and roomy verandas. There are punkahs always going, any number of native waiters ready to supply one with cooling drinks, and what gladdens the heart even more, the charges are very moderate.

Colombo seems to combine all that one can want. good tropical climate — never cold, and yet never^, unbearably hot (at least, so say those that live there, though it certainly strikes hot on first arriving from Europe), comfortable hotels, pretty scenery, yet a good town where everything can be bought; and then, in a very few hours, you can go up into the hills and get a climate as cold as England, or go off and have some of the best of sport in large or small game.

Close beside the hotel are numerous Indian jewelers' shops. Here, in addition to ivory goods and Indian ware, the newcomer is tempted with brilliant upset gems. You hear stories of people obtaining rubies and sapphires, and selling them in London for double what they gave in Colombo. It may be, but I expect the sellers generally know their value, and such successes are few and far between. Anyhow, some very pretty stones are to be bought, whether really valuable or not.

Ceylon is one of the great strongholds of Buddhism, and in Colombo several interesting temples may be visited. The priests are dressed in yellow vestments, have their heads clean-shaven all over, and invariably carry palm-leaf fans.

Gale Face, a large open green by the sea, is a great resort for all classes of Colombo society. There the band plays periodically, cricket matches are played, and even football, too, under the roast­ing sun! Close by are the suitably-built barracks for the English garrison.

Numerous drives can be taken in the neighbourhood, the cinnamon gardens being an especial attraction; and I believe the correct thing to do is to call on the exile Arabi, ex-Pasha, and condole with him on his lot. But I didn't.

Mount Lavinia, chiefly consisting of a hotel perched on a small hill overlooking the sea, is one of the first places to visit outside Colombo. It is a lovely spot, a good hotel, and it is said to be cooler and more airy than Colombo

By going further along the same line of rail a small village, Caltura, is reached, very prettily situated amongst masses of green foliage, and bordering on a lake, or inlet of the sea. The village itself is mostly scattered along the very good highroad, the houses dotted about amongst luxuriant palms, jack-fruit, and many other kinds of trees. There is a very interesting Buddhist temple here, with its yellow-robed, shaven-headed, palm-leaf-fan-carrying priests. Outside, it is nothing much to look at — it might be a Methodist chapel — but inside gloriously decorated with painted figures of the usual extraordinary Buddhist type. The priest in charge graphically gave me a full explana­tion of  these in Singalese, or some such language, while, I showed the extreme interest I felt in all he told me by gravely nodding my head whenever he appeared to expect such acknowledgment. Finally, he pulled aside a great curtain to admit me into the sanctum sanctorum, a smallish room containing three huge figures of Buddha. I had the profanity to click off my secret camera at these, and it rather excited the priest's curiosity to see me fumbling with something which gave an occasional click. I think he suspected that I was about to shoot myself. But after all I got no results; the place was altogether in too much of a “dim religious light” for photography. Tables stood in front of the figures, on which florid offerings and monetary gifts were placed.

Near the other end of the pretty village is a wonderful tree-arch. A large stem rises on one side of the road and bends across it, and then seems to join in with another tree, though probably it has really only dropped a root on the other side. This tree is covered with moss and ferns and creepers, making it look quite like an artificial and tastefully decorated triumphal arch.

This is one of the few places in Ceylon, indeed, I believe out of Malaysia — where that luscious fruit, the mangosteen grows. It is esteemed one of the most delicious and wholesome of all known fruits, and is about the size of a small apple, with a brown casing, which breaks open rather like that of a horse-chestnut. The edible inside consists of three or four delicate white pieces, not unlike the sections of an orange in consistency, but not so fibrous, and with a sweet, delicate flavour.

The local “fly” consists of a hackery, or small two-wheeled cart, with roof of palm-leaf matting, drawn by a diminutive bullock, who trots along in fine style. The “rest-house,” or hotel, is a comfortable little bungalow of three bedrooms and a dining-room, with a small garden containing turkeys, peacocks, and a tame porcupine.

One passes in the street numerous gem-polishers, sitting in front of their houses, hard at work with their emery-wheels, cutting and polishing the saphhires, rubies, and other less valuable stones (especially the last-named) which are found near here and sent to Colombo for sale. I thought perhaps in this home of jewels they would not know their true value, but I found they did very fully.

Quitting the busy streets, we find good roads running through the most lovely tropical woods, and past occasional paddy-fields, with the bright green rice springing up through the mud and water, which has been well mixed by the plodding oxen trampling knee-deep in the slush. And as we yet further from the haunts of man see some monkeys; and what a grand sight to watch them boldly jumping from tree to tree, fearlessly plunging headlong from some high branch into the thickets beneath, and nimbly climbing along at a rapid pace from one bush to another.

Then there is some good sport to be got about here, if only one knows exactly where to go. Numerous snipe of various sorts haunt the paddy­-fields, and a great variety of prettily coloured pigeons fly about the trees, while there are larger birds, of the pheasant tribe, in the woods, although I did not succeed in getting any of the latter.

In the evening one can have great fun with the flying foxes, which come by in hundreds, and are a great pest to the fruit-grower. These beasts look, when flying, very much like large rooks, but in reality they are simply overgrown bats, often measuring as much as four feet or more from tip to tip of wing.

Being anxious to get a young monkey, and as in this neighbourhood are to be found the “low country wanderoos,” which are said to be the cleanest and most affectionate of monkeys, I determined one day on a kidnapping expedition to the bush. After an early start, and a drive of some miles in a hackery, we arrived at the shooting-ground, and were joined by several villagers from the neighbourhood. We entered the bush, a smart young lad first, to show the way (and clear away the snakes, I thought), then myself, and then the various servants, guides, “beaters,” and villagers, who would insist on jabbering and making enough noise to frighten everything away from the district. We soon came upon a troop of monkeys, and followed them some distance, they very calmly hopping from tree to tree, and clambering about the branches, evidently anxious to keep their distance from us, and yet appearing calm and not hurried, so that we were able to get up to them, and follow below till a chance of a shot occurred. It seems downright cruelty to shoot these poor but noble animals. But if you wish to get a tame one, the only chance is to cruelly murder the mother as she carries her little one clinging to her. In my first shot I was unfortunate enough to kill both, one single shot having entered the baby's head. But later on I succeeded in getting a small friend, who accompanied me to Australia — a most affectionate little fellow, but a very bad sailor.

Caltura is celebrated for its basket-work. Most beautifully worked grass-woven boxes with lids may be got here, sometimes made to fit into one another so as to form a “nest” of ten or twelve.

Going back to Colombo, I then started on a journey up into the hills of the Interior.

The railway journey from Colombo to Kandy, and on to Nuwara Eliya, is certainly one of the most interesting in the world. The scenery is magnificent and varied, and the engineering wonderful. The first part of the journey is through low-lying country in­tersected with rivers and swamps, and covered for the most part with dense tropical vegetation and wet paddy fields, with occasional clumps of bamboo. Gradually one ascends the mountains and obtains glorious views into the huge valleys below; with their most extraordinary-looking terraces of paddy. Numerous queer-shaped hills, fine waterfalls, cliffs, and grand trees are seen on all sides. Rising above the vegetation around it stands the majestic Talipot palm, whose fan-shaped leaves sometimes sixteen feet across, are used not only as umbrellas, but as tents, by the natives. Strips of the leaves are utilized for writing upon, the letters being merely scratched on with a style, and remaining indelibly impressed for all time; at least, some very ancient writings exist done in this manner. The flower rises like an enormous plume from the top of the tree, forming about the biggest thing known in the floral line.

By night the place is illuminated by fire-flies, often backed by the distant glow of large forest fires. After about seventy miles, Kandy, the old native capital of Ceylon, is reached. It is a picturesque place, close to a lake, around which rise thickly wooded hills.

Here is another very interesting old Buddhist temple, surrounded by a moat full of fish and turtles. The walls are decorated with most wonderful paint­ings illustrative of the various kinds of hells, each offence, according to the Buddhist religion, having its own particular punishment awarded.

The thing most worth seeing in Kandy is the tooth of the veritable Buddha. But this is something far too good for the ordinary tourist to gaze upon, so he must be contented with looking upon the bell of gold set with precious stones, under which, he is informed, there are five others equally beautiful, and on raising the innermost of them this valuable relic is exposed to view. Judging by the many portraits and statues that I have seen of Buddha, I always did imagine that he must have been a rather peculiar looking man; but I believe this tooth fairly took by surprise the few Europeans who had the supreme privilege of inspecting it at the time of the visit of the Prince of Wales, for I am told that no ordinary mortal could have got the thing inside his mouth.

There are various other temples to be seen; also a celebrated Bo-tree, a few thousand years old, in the old cemetery; and some lovely walks may be taken among the collection of tropical plants to be found on the sides of the hill above, and in the grounds of The Lodge, the residence of the Governor.

But if you are anxious to see tropical plants in all their glory, a trip must be made to Peredinia, not many miles off, where are some of the finest botanical gardens in the world, with some very grand specimens of large trees.

We must now go still further up the line, and on to Nuwara Eliya (pronounced more like new-relia) which is the sanatorium of Ceylon.

We pass through some wonderful country, mountainous though not as a rule rugged, and covered for the most part with tea and coffee plantations. It seems curious that these two beverages, so closely associated in our minds, should be derived from plants growing under such similar circumstances that they are often found together.

The coffee-planter of Ceylon, however, has almost ceased to exist, and many would have been utterly ruined by the disease which ravaged all the coffee plants some years ago had it not been found that the ground grew excellent tea, which has now almost entirely superseded the coffee.

The plantations are a curious sight. Miles and miles of forest have been cleared and burnt; but all the larger trees are either left standing, gaunt and dead, or lie like skeletons on a battle-field over the country. But, one thinks how grand the scenery must have been before, when these giants stood fully clothed in verdure, with creepers and under­growth around! In amongst this scene of wreckage grow the coffee plants — shrubs perhaps ten feet high, with leaves at the top like a crinkly laurel, and little green and red, cherry-like berries close to the stem. The tea, on the other hand, seldom grows more than five or six feet high, and is more bushy. It requires more care in growing than coffee. Only the buds and younger leaves are picked for tea. The difference between green and black tea is not in the plant from which they come, but that the latter, after being picked, is kept exposed to the air for some time before it is roasted.

The railway is a marvellous work of engineering. In some places it is so steep that the train only travels at an average rate of eight miles an hour for the forty odd miles. The line not only zigzags about in the most extraordinary manner, but in one place goes right round in a loop by passing through a tunnel, then curving round outside the hill, and finally passing over itself again higher up.

There is some fine mountain scenery in the dis­tance, including occasional glimpses of Adam's Peak, the conical hill whence Buddha stepped to heaven.

Having got as far as this line can take one, a coach journey of about four miles has to be made along a mountainous road winding about even more than the railway does, and  Nuwara Eliya is reached. We are now about 6,000 feet above the sea, and the air strikes very cold. All the vegetation looks quite homely, gorse and heather being plentiful. There is no town to speak of, but two or three small hotels of bungalow-like build, and several private “villas,” including  the Governor's house, which, as Sir Arthur Gordon himself described it, is very like an English parsonage. There is also a racecourse, where great goings on occur at the proper season.

From here one can make the ascent of Mount Pedurutallagalla, the highest point in Ceylon, after a five-mile ride through a dense forest, said to be infested with wild elephants, cheetah, and elk. I dare say they were there, but I did not see any of them. It is a wild and splendid view from the summit, which is 5,295 feet above the sea.

In the evening, when the sun goes down, one is quite glad to get in front of a good old homely fire — a change indeed from the furnace-like heat of Colombo.

My trip in India was but a very short one, and was confined to a visit to one or two places in the Madras Presidency.

I left Colombo by British-India steamboat for Tuticorin. The greater part of the ship was thickly packed with coolie emigrants — 1,400 they say were on board — and all this weighty top hamper seemed as if it must make the vessel top-heavy; and Heaven help us if we got into difficulties! However, as it turned out, we had a very calm and peaceable journey, lasting some seventeen hours. Our destination was hardly what we in England would call a good harbour. A low, flat shore covered with palm-trees, some sand-banks, and a few houses, were all we could discern from the steamer when she anchored a mile or so from land. We were conveyed ashore in a small steam-launch, well loaded with natives and in due time I found myself ensconced in the hotel of the place, which consisted of three rooms and a balcony, but where, neverthe­less, I was very comfortably housed.

Tuticorin is a quiet little place. There is a small club, and a sufficient number of Europeans to make a select circle of society, so that tennis parties, rides etc., are indulged in as in other places.

The manager of the bank very kindly took me round and launched me into the vortex of local gaieties. There is of course, a native bazaar, which is of interest to the new-comer, who sees for the first time the native Indian in his element. One of the great peculiarities is to see the men going about with their faces painted in various ways to denote their religious caste. Some have bands of white or red, or both. Many wear a white spot just above the nose, and some even mark their bodies with white stripes.

The district around Tuticorin presents no great feature of interest; the country is all flat, but there is a great profusion of Palmyra palms. These have straight, thick stems and close-lying, nearly circular leaves. It is one of the most useful of trees, all parts of it being of value to the natives.  Toddy is got in abundance from the sap of the shoots, and from this “jaggery,” or sugar, is extracted. It supplies an edible fruit; the leaves are useful for thatching and many other purposes; and the hard, dark wood of the stem is most valuable for building and other purposes.

Many of the curious banyan-trees, with their many stems and roots hanging from the branches, also abound.

From Tuticorin a railway runs north. It is interesting to see that here twenty-four hour time is used for all the time-tables. It certainly seems an excellent plan, and saves much confusion, especially when planning out a long and complicated journey. The country travelled through is mostly flat and open, covered either with cultivation or coarse grass, with a good many small trees. Now and again we pass over a large, dry watercourse, while in the distance to the westward hills rear themselves before the setting sun.

All along beside the railway runs a hedge of aloes planted closely together, many of these plants blossoming, the flowers being raised on great stems fifteen or twenty feet high. When the flower dies, so does the whole plant. On many of the trees are to be seen the curious hanging nests of the weaver­bird. In shape they are somewhat similar to a chemist's retort, the entrance being at the bottom of the depending funnel, so that snakes and other would-be intruders are unable to find the way in.

A long journey by train in India, especially during the hot season, is not the most agreeable of modes of travel. Fine dust gets over everything, and makes one feel very dirty and grimy. The carriages, which are not over large or comfortable on this narrow-gauge line, become like an oven towards mid-day, and it is a great relief to get to one of the well-kept little station restaurants, where one receives the. best attention, and is able to get a good wash and a comfortable meal. What strikes a stranger most in Southern India is the great regard paid by all the servants and other natives to one's comfort. Although travelling quite as a private individual, I was received everywhere, not only with cringing salaams etc., but with real civility. Everything was done as well as one could expect except, by the way, for one thing which I disliked — the drinks were so warm. In most hot countries the Europeans insist on mineral waters, etc., being kept cool under damp cloths, or in goulahs, etc., but in this district of India I never got a cool drink.

Madura is the first important station up the line, and here is a very fine old Hindu temple. It is said to be one of the finest in India, but it did not impress me. The building covers about twenty acres and is crowded with natives lying about everywhere. Here they keep four “white” elephants, one of which is supposed to be trained to pick up any coin you may like to throw to him and so he does after a fashion, though I hardly considered I had got my money's worth out of the experiment. There are also the remains of an old palace here, in which are a great number of large columns.

Continuing our journey by rail through flat country, mostly cultivated with cotton, we get to Trichinopoly.

The most conspicuous feature about the place is the rock of Trichinopoly, which rises up abruptly out of the plain to some 500 feet. On the top are the remains of a fort and a number of native houses the result being suggestive of the Acropolis at Athens. The town below is well laid out with broad streets, and crowded with natives. The military cantonments extend for miles outside the town, and as there are plenty of fine trees-palms, banyans, jack-fruit, etc.—it all appears shady and cool.

Trichinopoly is a great place for jewellery, and it is in the wearing of this that Indian natives differ greatly from those of other parts of the world. No­where else have I seen such a profusion of jewellery. The women's ears are sometimes pierced to such a size that one could get two or three fingers through the hole, and I should be sorry to say how touch weight of silver and gold is sometimes carried by them.

I went out to dine one night with the magis­trate, but I took good care not to walk there, for during the afternoon I had seen on his drive the undoubted recent track of a large cobra! I was quite ready to agree with him that the brute was probably gone and was not likely to return that way. but still I preferred to take a gharry.

Tanjore was the next place I visited, “in all ages one of the chief political and literary centres of the South of India,” as the guide-book has it.  Here is a large palace, lately used as a court-house, with two courts, presided over respectively by an English and a native magistrate.

The great temple of Tanjore is always considered the finest specimen of the Dravidian style of archi­tecture. One enters under the Gopuras or gate pyramids, and finds one's self in a large court, where is the shrine of the bull Nandi. Under a roof sup­ported by columns is a huge stone statue of the bull, which the natives solemnly declare , is still growing, as it is natural to suppose that it could not have been originally cut out of one piece of stone of that enormous size. It is, therefore, kept carefully oiled, in order to encourage the growth! Further on in the court is the temple proper, or Vimana. It is some eighty feet square at the base, and rises per­pendicularly to two stories high; above this is the pyramidal roof, covered with elaborate sculpture. and rising to a height of 190 feet.

Tanjore is also known for its beautiful metalwork—usually elaborately-embossed plates of copper and brass, with silver let in.

Having thus had a glimpse at India, and seen sufficient to make me long to stay on and see more of the country, I returned to Ceylon, and there joined the P. and O. boat bound for Australia.

This voyage of some 4,000 miles without a sight of any land is somewhat monotonous, but the monotony is broken by the festivities incident on crossing the line, for on this journey we duly came across the boat, or shell, or whatever it is contain­ing Neptune and all his crew. Unfortunately, I did not see the mysterious vessel in which he navigates his kingdom, but I saw the sovereign of the seas after he had boarded us, and watched with interest the ceremony of shaving and bathing some of the unfortunate younger members of the crew.

		B. F. S. Baden-Powell, In Savage Isles and Settled Lands: Malaysia, Australasia, and Polynesia, 1888-1891. Chapter III. Southern Colonies of Australia.
		Major Baden F. S. Baden-Powell was one of B-P's younger brothers.  He was a pioneer of military aviation, an officer in the Scot's Guards and a Fellow of both the Royal Aeronautical Society and Royal Geographical Society. He was also author of In Savage Isles and Settled Lands published in 1892.
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