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1,200,000; landlords and fundholders for more than 500,000; members of the liberal professions for nearly as many; etc.

Now certain Socialist fictions may well seduce a few of those small employers who have one or two workmen, and a few medical men and barristers in search of a means of bettering their position or popularity; but the great majority of the proprietors, large and small, are inaccessible to that conception which has Collectivism for its final and logical result-the seizure by the State of the whole economic activity of the country and the forcing of every man fit for work into the ranks of State functionaries. But it is indispensable

that the Republicans should agree to oppose propaganda to propaganda, and to meet the demand for a socialistic Utopia by the enunciation of certain principles, which I summarize thus: Every institution is pernicious which has for its object the protection of an individual or a group from competition, for it results in apathy and decay. Every institution is noxious which las for its object the restraint of the intellectual or productive activity of man. Progress is in inverse proportion to the coercive interference of man with man, and in direct proportion to the control by man of external nature. -Nineteenth Century.

III.

JANUARY DAYS IN CEYLON.

NEWERA-ELIYA.

THE mountain railway of Ceylon ascends to a height of six thousand feet above the level of the sea, and in the journey from the tropical plains of Colombo to the highland sanatorium of Newera-Eliya we pass, between sunrise and sunset, from the torrid to the temperate zone. After leaving Kandy the line traverses a wilderness of palm and bamboo, with the silvery waters of the swift Mahaelli-Ganga shining through the green vistas of feathery foliage. Beyond the luxuriant verdure of these shadowy woods lies the great tea district of Hatton, where the terraced mountain-sides are ruthlessly cleared of jungle and disfigured by the rows of round green bushes, clipped until no projecting leaf or twig breaks their rigid uniformity of outline. Higher still the glossy foliage and snowy blossoms of the coffee plantations extend for many miles, sheltered by the blue peaks of Dimbulla. Mountain streams swirl through rocky gorges, and the music of falling water fills the air, as our upward way penetrates a sea of drifting clouds which float in fleecy masses round the flanks of the hills, and shroud the village of Nanuoya, where the coach for Newera Eliya awaits the arrival of the train. The road

borders a forest-clad gorge, with tall cliffs towering overhead and a turbulent river foaming through the deep ravine below. The region of palm and cocoa-nut is left far behind, but magnificent tree-ferns take their place, clinging to the rocky precipices and fringing the deep glens with branching fronds. The lofty tableland of NeweraEliya, at the summit of the pass, seems far removed from the tropical world of sunshine and color, and the comparative bleakness of the desolate scenery suggests a Scottish moorland rather than an equatorial "patena." Virgin forest clothes the mountains which enclose the green and marshy plain. A melancholy lake winds between wooded shores, and the abrupt outline of the black Hakgalla Peak-in native parlance, the "jaw" of the mountain chain

cuts sharply into the foreground. Evening closes in with mist and rain, and a welcome log-fire burns cheerily on the open hearth; the yellow gleam of an unseen sunset fails to brighten the lonely landscape, and, as the mountain winds moan through the swaying boughs of sighing pines, we turn with a shiver from the dreary prospect to the ruddy glow of the firelit room.

A radiant morning follows the wet and windy night. The roses of dawn fade into the infinite azure of a cloudless sky, and the cool breath of the

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mountain air is an elixir of life. gray tower of a tiny church rises beyond an avenue of golden wattles; pink and yellow bungalows nestle among clumps of trees, and the straggling native village which forms the nucleus of the mountain station is just waking up to the business of the day. The first expedition from this little Cingalese "city of the plain" is the ascent of Pederutallagalla commonly abbreviated into "Pedro"-the highest point of Ceylon, eight thousand feet above the sea and two thousand feet beyond Newera-Eliya. A pretty bridle-path climbs the mountain, clothed from base to summit with primeval forest, the gnarled and knotted branches of the ancient trees festooned with heavy wreaths of soft green moss, dripping with dew as they sway in the balmy breeze. The steep ascent ends in a long green ridge strewn with mossy bowlders, in which guava-bushes have taken root; but, though ripening berries glow among the gray leaves, the luscious fruit loses its accustomed sweetness at this lofty altitude, and our desire for new experiences is soon satisfied. From the present vantage-point all the mountain ranges of Ceylon are visible tier above tier, chiselled like cones of turquoise against the paler blue of the rain-washed sky. Even the shadows of each rocky cleft and glen seem but rays of intensified light throwing purple gleams across the vivid blue. The serrated heights of Totapella, the sharp ridge of Naminakulia, and the bold cone of Peacock Mountain rise in sculptured outlines before us, while the majestic pyramid of Adam's Peak soars upward into heaven like a mighty altar, consecrated by countless ages of fervent devotion. This famous centre of Buddhist and Mohammedan pilgrimage has been reverenced as holy ground almost from the dawn of history. Myth and legend entwine the barren peak with an unfading wreath of memories, like clinging ivy round a ruined tower. The idea of Ceylon as the earthly Paradise culminates here, where it probably originated, and the verdant loveliness of the tropical island perpetuates the dream. A deep impression on the rocky summit is reverenced by the Mohammedan as the footprint of Adam, who left this trace of his presence in NEW SERIES.-VOL. LIX., No. 1.

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the Eden from whence he was expelled to remind his descendants of the bitter consequences ensuing from the Fall. The tradition of the Buddhist world is a variation of the same story, the gigantic footprint being ascribed to Buddha, who impressed it upon the mountaintop when he crossed over from Ceylon to Siam with one mighty stride, thenceforth constituting the "Kingdom of the White Elephant" the centre of Buddhism. A constant stream of pilgrims flows to the sacred mountain, climbing the painful stairs and perilous ladders of the steep ascent to the shrines which crown the peak, careless of the inevitable sufferings of hunger, thirst, and weariness aggravated by the vertical rays of the equatorial sun beating with fierce intensity upon the unsheltered cone. Only the tireless patience of the Oriental could in many cases accomplish a task which proves such a terrible ordeal to the aged and the sick that they often die in the attempt; but the sacrifice of life itself is not without consolation to the faithful pilgrim, for death on this sacred journey is regarded as a sure entrance within the open gate of heaven, and Buddhist self-renunciation joins hands with Moslem fatalism to smooth the rugged path which leads to "Paradise regained."

The magnificent panorama from the summit of Pedro einbraces the whole island, and as we turn from the amphitheatre of sunlit mountains the eye ranges over a wilderness of sombre jungle, the lair of the leopard and the haunt of the cobra, to the blue sea breaking on the eastern coast eighty miles away.

Presently the scene changes, and snowy billows of cloud rise from the deep valleys, and extend for scores of miles and thousands of feet below us, while rifts in the veil of wreathing vapor disclose momentary glimpses of fields and forests far away. The weird effect of the strange transformationscene suggests some magic vision of a tropical Eden revealed through Arctic snows. As the dense white clouds roll upward, and envelope the exposed ridge on which we stand, their icy chill soon drives us down the steep incline, and through flying mists and moss wreathed trees we discern the green plains of dis

tant Newera Eliya, basking in sunshine which turns the winding lake into a sparkling mirror of burnished silver. The Botanical Gardens of Hakgalla, rich in the typical vegetation of the temperate zone, are reached by a wooded defile, widening after the first six miles to display a panoramic view over the province of Uva, where successive ranges of grassy hills sweep up from intervening valleys terraced and cultivated with rice, to blue chains of distant mountains. A still finer prospect of this remote province may be seen from the picturesque summer-house of the Gardens. In the foreground rises the great Hakgalla Peak, a noble forestfringed rock which plays an important part in promoting the fine weather for which Uva is celebrated. Standing out in bold relief from the lower hills as a shoulder to the mountain system of Ceylon, this frowning height is situated meteorologically just on the borders of the two monsoons. When the tempestuous rains and drifting mists of the southwest monsoon sweep wildly across the island from the western coast, and rush over the mountain ranges toward Hakgalla, the rock acts as an impassable barrier to the fury of the elements. Beyond this phenomenal peak lies a land of perpetual calm and sunshine, where no rain falls, and to which no cloud can travel; or if an occasional wreath of mist should break away from the gloomy thunder-pile which broods over the western sky, it is speedily dissolved into transparency by the brilliant climate of Uva. We may stand on one side of the Hakgalla Peak within the region of the monsoon, and look through the last veil of rain draped between heaven and earth to the sunscorched hills of Uva, thirsting for the refreshing showers which descend so near, though forbidden by some mysterious law of nature to pass beyond the prescribed limit. Eight hundred native villages are scattered over this apparently deserted province, into which European influences have scarcely penetrated, and an extension of the railway to Haputalle, on the borders of these grassy heights, is the only link between Uva and civilization. A solitary shepherd driving his flock across the withered grass accentuates the loneliness of

this pastoral province lying parched beneath the eternal blue of a cloudless sky, while the adjacent region is green and fertile, cooled by mountain winds and fed by frequent showers. The agricultural value of Uva will be quadrupled should the Government accomplish the proposition of planting trees on the sunny hills in order to attract the rainfall now diverted by the magnetic influence of the Hakgalla Peak.

Within the Botanical Gardens the vegetation of temperate and sub-tropical climates finds a congenial soil, and even the familiar flowers of English lanes and hedgerows struggle for a feeble existence among the floral spoils of warmer latitudes. The trellised arches of a rosary surround a central fountain with bloom and fragrance; great bushes of heliotrope and geranium alternate with thickets of white and yellow marguerites, pink camellias grow to the size of forest trees, and crimson tacsonia twines round branch and stem. A hedge of lemon verbena scents the air, datura swings its creamy chalices in the breeze, and multitudes of unknown blossoms, plants, and trees attest the infinite varieties of exotic growth which thrive in this favored spot.

The cool green glades of the fernery look like ideal haunts of nymph and fairy; stately tree ferns spread verdant canopies overhead, and the tempered sunlight filters through the feathery fronds in flickering streams of emerald radiance. Masses of pale green maidenhair and filmy lace-fern border rippling brooks and nod over foaming cascades crossed by rustic bridges, their wooden lattice-work concealed by a thick growth of elm and beech fern rooted in crevice and cranny. Hart's-tongue, of abnormal height and size, sways broad green leaves over crystal pools, and variegated plumes of gold and silver fern wave above mossy boulders. A forest of tropical ferns in endless variety lines a deep dell, and the green twilight of the secluded bowers enhances their visionary loveliness with suggestions of glamour and mystery.

The splendor of the tree ferns peculiar to the highlands of Ceylon reaches a climax in the magnificent gorge of Kandepolla, where gigantic fronds ten feet in length bend over the waterfalls,

which leap from crag to crag and swell the torrent dashing through the dark ravine. In the typical vegetation of the different zones nature seems to obey some immutable law of form which lies behind her operations as grammar lies behind language, controlling outward expression and bringing order from chaos. The tree-fern of the mountain heights, in drooping frond and pillared stem, imitates the sweeping curves of the graceful cocoa-nut which decks the lower levels with myriad slender shafts and feathery crowns, symbolizing the acme of tropic luxuriance. Even the mosses which cushion each rocky niche carry out the prevailing type, and in their delicate stalks and fragile plumes resemble a miniature forest of mimic palms.

The road to Kandepolla skirts the rugged shoulder of Pedro, known as the Lovers' Leap, and celebrated as the scene of a romantic Cingalese legend.

A Kandyan prince of olden time when elephant-hunting in the jungle became separated from his companions in the chase, and lost his way amid the dark labyrinth of tangled trees. He was guided back to the path by a beautiful Kandyan girl of low caste, who emerged from one of the forest glades as the young prince stood in doubt beneath a lofty palm which marked the intersection of two diverging tracks. Admiration soon warmed into love, and the remonstrances of the king only strengthened his son's determination to espouse the dusky nymph of the woods. The old monarch vindicated the outraged dignity of the Kandyan crown by exercising the royal prerogative, and forbidding the unequal marriage; but his commands were set at naught by the elopement of the lovers, who fled to the woods, pursued by the king's warriors. Day by day the fugitives retreated farther into the recesses of the mountains, climbing ever onward through the tangled jungle into the veil of drifting cloud which hid pursuers and pursued, until they reached the wild forests which clothed the unknown heights of Pedro. The whistle of arrows and the glint of spears through the dark foliage at length showed that the soldiers were close upon them, just as they arrived on the verge of a sheer precipice which

cut off their advance. Preferring instant death to capture and its accompanying tortures, the lovers locked themselves together in a farewell embrace and leaped over the cliffs into the dark valley two thousand feet below. Still, when the full moon silvers the black precipice of the Lovers' Leap, the native wayfarer passes with fear and trembling along the road beneath, and mutters a wild incantation as he grasps the amulet around his neck, afraid to look upward to the spot where his superstitious fears picture a shadowy figure crowned with waving plumes and bending over a weeping girl, who haunts the summit where the last kiss was pressed upon her dying lips. The mournful tale of passion and despair invests the Kandepolla route with a pathetic charm, but the grandeur of the scenery is excelled by the Rambodde Pass, which skirts another mountain gorge. Within the sheltered wall of the fern-fringed mountains orange-trees bend beneath a weight of golden fruit, their snowy blossoms mingling with the trailing garlands of pale blue passionflower which festoon each bush and tree. Gorgeous caladiums line every watercourse, and yellow calceolarias grow thickly on the turf as cowslips in an English meadow. Scarlet sheaves of salvia and stately arum lilies bloom side by side, and vie in beauty with the climbing roses which flourish in this temperate clime to unexampled perfection.

The fascination of the lovely road culminates at the summit of the pass in a magnificent view across the mountain ranges to the Eastern sea. The sun is just sinking into the sapphire depths, and flushing the golden glow of the sky with unearthly hues of rose and amethyst, until the overarching heaven seems etherealized into a transparent veil, suffused with the mystic radiance of some hidden glory far beyond earthly ken.

A bearded native, in white skirt and plaid jacket, watches us with wondering eyes, as he sits down by the roadside to smooth out his oily black tresses before rolling them into a large chignon secured by a tortoiseshell comb; and a brown boy, clad only in a string of beads and the proverbial smile, pursues

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us with eager attentions until driven from the field by a dusky maiden in the comparatively full dress of a silver necklace and a yellow flounce. She demands instant payment for her services, with evident confidence in the irresistible nature of her charms, and on receiving her easily-earned douceur scampers back to the rustic toll-bar over which she presides, to dispute the passage of a bullock-cart which lumbers heavily up the hill, laden with green and purple sugar-cane from the torrid plains below. The upland plains or patenas" of the mountain heights are wholly different in character. A walk of eight miles takes us round the Moon Plains, past the lake and the pretty pink bungalow of the bishop's family, whose kindly hospitality is one of the bright memories belonging to NeweraEliya. Leaving the water-side, the road traverses a green plateau full of discarded moonstone pits, from which the patenas take their name. The stones are still so plentiful in the district that the washing of gravel in search of various gems is a favorite amusement with visitors, whose perseverance is often rewarded by a promising collection of moonstones, garnets, and tourmalines. The solitude of the scene is only enlivened by a distant thud of hoofs across the turf, as two officers from the neighboring barracks gallop across the plain for their morning ride. The road winds away into the dark depths of a beautiful ravine, and emerges at the head of the Barrack Lake, a narrow sheet of water extending to a second green patena which completes the circuitous route to the village of Newera Eliya.

An expedition to the Elk Plains is still more interesting, but should only be undertaken with a native guide. The road descends for two miles to the iron bridge over the Nanuoya, a river which rises near the top of "Pedro," and after flowing through the Newera Eliya Lake leaps onward in successive cataracts to the village which bears its name. The first of the falls is spanned by a mossy bridle-path bridge, and before it was made many an early colonist had to choose between crossing the swollen river on foot at the peril of his life or passing the night amid the cor

responding dangers of the lonely forest. A rugged path ascends to the Lady's Waterfalls, two lovely cascades foaming down from steep cliffs, and spreading out like snowy fans on vast sheets of gray rock at the base. Higher up lies the Black Pool, a lonely tarn overshadowed by forest trees, with a gurgling stream pouring into it from above. Retracing our steps to the bridle-road, we ascend in half an hour to the Elk Plains, which extend in silent solitude before us.

Here we are in the absolute wilderness of upland Ceylon, where the virgin beauty and freshness of Nature unspoilt by man instils a new sensation into every soul which vibrates to her mysterious voice. The rolling green patenas are cut off sheer and straight from the encircling belts of jungle as though measured off by human hands. a striking feature of these elevated regions which has never been satisfactorily explained. The mountain ranges which enclose the grassy plains are clothed from base to summit with primeval forest, heavily draped with moss which forms a green fringe hanging from every bough. An appalling loneliness broods over the scene, no song of bird stirs the silence, and the deathlike hush which reigns over the gloomy forest is unbroken even by the rustle of a leaf; for noon is the midnight of the tropics, and the black depths of the haunted jungle are wrapped in spellbound sleep. At nightfall the lithe cheetah glides stealthily through the shadows, and couches for his prey among the crowding trees. The branching antlers of the elk rise above the tangled undergrowth, and the moose-deer browses in the shade of the mossy boughs along which the wildcat creeps, while the savage boar roots among the fallen leaves. When the rising moon illuminates the lonely landscape, herds of wild elephants emerge from the dark jungle and roam over the vast expanse of desolate country which still renders the interior of Ceylon almost an unknown land. The elephant grass, which breaks the uniformity of the undulating plain with rustling sheaves of long green spears, is the forage for which the stragglers of the herd scour the patenas, and many Cingalese superstitions linger round this elevated table

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