to show us all there was time to see. The principal trees, shrubs, and plants have been labelled, so that he who runs may read. A good deal of vegetation has also been cut down and cleared away, and the more valuable specimens of trees stand boldly out on the grassy lawns. The present curator has erected a charming little summer-house, in the form of a Kandyan temple, in memory of Dr. Thwaites and his thirty successful years of office. It stands on a small knoll, surrounded by the fragrant bushes of the jessamine-like Plumieria, which is also known as the temple-flower, and is regarded as sacred.
We scarcely got back in time to dress for dinner at the Pavilion, as they call the Governor's residence here. The children were tired, and went to bed. Tom, Mabelle, Mr. des Graz, and I therefore started without them, and arrived punctually at eight o'clock. Lord and Lady Aberdeen were of the party, which included a good many interesting people. The table was decorated with lovely ferns, and no less than seventy-two vases of sunflowers! The effect of the servants' liveries was quaint and decidedly picturesque, and I believe the fashion in which they are made is very old. The smartly cut, long swallow-tail black coat, profusely braided with red and yellow, is worn over a snowy white cloth wrapped round the waist and reaching to the feet, and the smooth hair is kept in its place by a large circular comb at the top of the head. Out of doors, a gracefully carried umbrella is the sole protection from the sun.
March 7th.– The morning broke misty, foggy, and decidedly cold for our early start back to Colombo. We found this change rather trying after the heat through which we have been voyaging. We left at eight, relying upon breakfast in the train; but in this hope we were disappointed, and had to content ourselves with biscuits and some rather unripe fruit; for the breakfast-car is only attached to upward trains, to suit travellers from Colombo who want to make the trip to Nuwarra-Ellia or to Kandy and back in one day. The scenery was so lovely, however, that there was plenty to occupy and distract our minds, and we were able to do all the more justice to our good lunch when we reached the comfortable Galle Face Hotel.
There was a great deal of business still to be done at Colombo, including the engagement of a new under-cook, the purchase of additional cool clothing for the crew, and the laying in of fresh stores and provisions. It was therefore not until the evening that we were able to start upon a little expedition, I in a jinrikisha, Tom on foot, followed by another jinrikisha, into which, to the great amusement of the group of lookers-on, he insisted on putting our interpreter, or 'English-speak-man,' as he calls himself.
There is always, to my mind, something supremely ludicrous in the sight of a half-naked individual trudging gaily along under an umbrella in pouring rain. His clothes cannot be spoiled, for he wears none; and one would think that his body must long ago have been acclimatised to every degree of moisture. The natives of Ceylon get over the difficulty very well by gathering one of the many beautifully spotted large caladium leaves which abound in the roadside ditches. For a time it serves its purpose, combining utility with elegance, and when the shower is over it is thrown away. I have also seen these leaves used as sunshades, but they do not answer so well in this capacity, for they wither directly and become limp and drooping. We had a pleasant stroll through the town and outskirts, exploring some lovely little nooks and corners full of tropical foliage. Colombo seems to be progressing, and to have benefited greatly by the railway.
We went to the station to meet the train from Nuwarra-Ellia, by which the children were expected to arrive, but, as the time-tables have just been altered, we found ourselves too early. The interval was pleasantly filled, however, by an instructive and interesting little chat with the traffic-manager. At last the train appeared, and with it the children, who expressed great delight at the procession of six real Japanese jinrikishas which we had organised to convey them and the rest of the party from the station to the hotel.
During the day we had heard that several old friends happened to be at Colombo, so we convened them all to dinner. Their number included Mr. Macbean and Captain Middleton, of the old 93rd, both of whom had been married since we last met them, and Colonel Carey, a Rugby friend of Tom's, now commanding the Engineers here.
We have had great difficulty to-day in obtaining possession of a box sent on to us from Bombay. I left orders yesterday that it was to be obtained from the shipping-agents this morning, but it was only after an infinity of trouble to ourselves and to the people on shore, who had locked up their offices and gone home, that we were able to get hold of it this evening. At last everything and everybody were collected on board; our usual parting gifts of books and newspapers to barracks, hospitals, and schools were sent ashore, and we steamed slowly out of the harbour and round the breakwater. Then 'Full speed ahead' was the order given, and once more we left the lights and luxuries of land behind us and sailed forth into the soft tropic twilight.
Tuesday, March 8th.– It was 1.10 a. m. as we passed the lighthouse. I stayed on deck until the land seemed to be swallowed up in the darkness; but when I came up again at 6 a. m. we were still running along the coast, near enough to see some of its beauties, though not so close as to make it possible to appreciate the exquisite loveliness of the Bay of Galle. Once the principal port of call for all the most important lines of steamers, the town of Galle is now comparatively deserted, and the charms of the neighbouring country are unknown to the modern traveller. The difficulties of landing there were always great during the monsoon period, and more facilities having been afforded at Colombo by the construction of Sir John Coode's great breakwater, all the steamers now make use of that port to take in water, coal, and provisions.
At noon we had run 95 miles, and Trincomalee was 244 miles distant. At 10 p. m. we passed inside the Great Bass Rock, and afterwards the smaller Bass Rock.
Wednesday, March 9th.– At noon to-day 184 miles had been made, and Trincomalee is only now twenty miles ahead. We had passed Batticaloa, the capital of one of the divisions of the island, and early in the morning saw the celebrated rock called 'Westminster Abbey,' which is curiously like that grand old pile, especially when the two pinnacles are seen from a distance. As you pass it to the northward the resemblance gradually becomes lost.
The sun was sinking fast when we shaped our course for the entrance to the harbour of Trincomalee. I was on the topgallant forecastle with Tom, and most delightful it was in that airy position. A fisherman in a curious little catamaran boat offered his services as pilot; and though they were not required we stopped, intending to ask him to come on board and have a chat; but he was lazy with the oars, and before he had come alongside our patience was exhausted. The moon now began to show her light, while the stars twinkled overhead; and the two lighthouses – one on either hand – sent forth rays which glistened on the calm surface of the water. I half regretted the departure of the daylight, for I should have liked to have seen more plainly the entrance to this wonderful harbour, pronounced by Nelson to be one of the finest in the world; but, on the other hand, the exquisite beauty of the scene made up for its want of distinctness. The glorious full moon, gaining power, shone into every creek and cranny, and beamed brilliantly over the water as we steamed ahead, until at last we dropped anchor off the dockyard of Trincomalee. Just previously, from the little fort above, had come loud shouts of 'Sunbeam, ahoy!' and then many hearty cheers burst from the throats of the artillerymen and engineers who are quartered there.
After dinner Tom and I went for a row in the 'Flash,' and explored the harbour by moonlight. There was a good deal of singing at a row of cottages ashore, where, I suppose, the dockyard labourers live. Even the workshops looked quite romantic, covered as their rough walls were by palms, creepers, and other tropical vegetation. We went on towards the Admiral's house, passing through the submarine mining flotilla, which looked singularly out of place among these picturesque surroundings. The night was absolutely perfect; the moonlight on the water, the distant mountains, the near forts, and the white sandy beach, all making up an ideal picture of tropical beauty and repose.
Shortly after we had come to an anchor, Mr. Black, the assistant naval storekeeper, arrived on board, bringing with him kind letters from Sir Frederick Richards, the commander-in-chief of the East India station, offering us his house and garden whilst we remain here. The 'Jumna,' which brought
