much force, and no boat would put to sea; and
I resolved to cross on a tappul catamaran. On
communicating my intention to my companion,
he said he would accompany me. It has always
been a comfort to me, that the resolution
on his part was taken without any proposal
from me that he should do so. At twelve in
the day, we started; and in about two hours we
could barely discern the tops of the trees on the
Indian coast; we were already speculating how
long it would be before we should reach Ceylon,
when our boatmen informed us that we must
put back, for the wind would not permit of our
proceeding. It is my own belief that they
knew this when we started. In Ceylon, our
outspoken Tamulians would at once have said
so; but the more subservient Madrasees did not
venture to do it. The collector had ordered
a boat, and they obeyed. They had relied upon
our giving in of our own accord, under the
discomforts of our cramped and wet situation;
and finding we did not give in, they told us
what they might have told us before we
started. Hitherto, I had staved off sea-sickness
by singing every song I could think of; but
when our heads were turned away from the
breeze, and our hopes were damped, that
wretched feeling crept over me, and, as usual
with me, induced a drowsiness so excessive, that,
although to have relaxed my hold for a moment
on the single rope that held the sail would have
been to be washed overboard, I believe that I
was several times asleep. At four o'clock we
reached the spot where we had embarked.
"And all this over again, to-morrow!" said
my friend. Early next morning we again set
sail. The wind had somewhat moderated, and
was more in our favour; at about noon we
discerned the low coast of Ceylon, far away in
the distance. But now, the sun, which the sail
had, to a great extent, defended us from,
streamed down upon us with all its power, nor
were its reflected rays from the water much
less distressing than those which smote us
direct. We had, however, contrived to keep
some sandwiches dry; and although we did not
dare to leave go the rope by which we held on—
for every wave through which we ran struck
us with much force—still we found our way to
our mouths with the spare hand. At half-past
three in the afternoon we touched the shores
of Ceylon, after eight and a half hours' sailing,
and staggered up the beach to the house of the
customs officer, who kindly gave us some
refreshment. We had brought over some spare
clothing in a tin box; on opening it, I found that
some silkworms' eggs, which I had secured in a
bottle, had hatched during the voyage.

My friend and I parted that afternoon, on
our arrival in Jaffna, as men do who expect to
meet on the morrow. I never saw him again.
The exposure he had undergone brought on one
of those complaints which often prove rapidly
fatal in the tropics, and a few days later I was
summoned from my station to attend his remains
to their last resting-place. The man who,
humanly speaking, could least be spared, was
taken; the man then without wife or child to
mourn his loss, was left.

There is a bird in Ceylon, sometimes heard
after nightfall, called by the natives the "Devil
Bird," on account of its appalling shriek. So
rarely is this bird seen, that naturalists are still
uncertain whether it is an owl or a night hawk.
All who have heard it, agree in saying that no
sound can be more fearful than its scream. I am
to this day uncertain whether I have heard it
or not. I had occasion to pass a night in the
"rest-house" at Caltura, a station between
Colombo and Jalle. I had with me a large sum
of government money, and as there were several
travellers with Coolies and servants within the
same building, I placed the box containing the
money, beside me, in bed. In the dead of the
night I was awoke by a fearful and prolonged
shriek, which echoed through the whole building.
I sprang out of bed, with the first idea
that some one was being murdered, but next
moment I remembered the money, and it
occurred to me that this might be some device
to draw me away from it. I therefore called to
one of the "peons," who were with me, to come
and guard the money, and then proceeded to try
to discover the cause of the noise. The people
who were sleeping about the verandahs had also
been aroused by the sound, which appeared to
have proceeded from within. A light was
brought and search was made everywhere; two
servants were asleep in one of the inner rooms
and they had not been awakened; either one of
these two men had had nightmare, and in his
sleep uttered these unearthly yells; or, the noise
was made by some one about the place
expressly for the purpose of robbing me of the
money should I leave it unguarded; or, a devil
bird had his abode somewhere in the old roof
and had uttered these shrieks just as he took
flight in search of prey: which is the time
at which this bird usually utters his appalling
cry.

In Ceylon there is not usually anything like
that organised system of gang robbery of which
one hears in India. For this there may be various
reasons; one by no means unimportant reason
is, that the soil belongs in Ceylon to the people,
not to the government, as in India; and that
almost every man has a patch of land, to which
lie clings with such tenacity, that he will not
part with it for any amount of money, and will
spend any amount in defending his title to it;
were he to take to robbing, he would have to
evade justice, and some neighbour would possess
himself of this land. There are those who
consider the minute sub-division of lands among all
the children of a deceased proprietor, a great
evil, and no doubt it has its disadvantages; but,
contrarywise, it should be remembered that the
ownership is an inducement to respectability
and responsibility. A great deal of the crime
committed among us, with malice prepense,
and for the sake of booty, is committed by
vagabonds from the low country, who have no
stake in the soil, and who go to the Kandian