394 Mr. E. L. Layard's Rumbles in Ceylon. 



indeed the remains were prodigious^ — huge fragments met me at every 

 turn, — when suddenly coming on the village, I found myself bewil- 

 dered among a labyrinth of square stone columns standing in every 

 imaginable angle ; emerging from these, I found myself in the prin- 

 cipal street. Selecting the only tiled house I could see, I hurried to 

 it, and found my friend B. was at his office. He immediately joined 

 me, as my arrival had been noted by a hundred eyes and reported, — 

 a white face in Anarajahpoora (with the exception of B.'s) being 

 quite a rarity. A hearty shake of the hand and a few hurried ques- 

 tions and answers — "VMiat's the matter? — where is the buggy?— 

 have you broken doxsii ? — and in a moment away ran a dozen men 

 with ropes and poles. In the course of an hour, horse and gig, 

 bullocks and bandy, were safe in the stable. 



But what a house was B.'s ! and what a room I entered ! meteoro- 

 logical instraments and 4-ounce elephant guns, the latest periodicals 

 in English, French and German, and elks' horns, philosophical books, 

 elephants' tails, and boxes of bird skins, cases of insects, papers of 

 shells, piles of dried plants, bottles of snakes, &c. &c. &c. occupied 

 every nook. A large bookcase of rough timber groaned with the 

 weight of books on every conceivable subject, and amidst the chaos 

 sat B.'s native amanuensis, patientty copying long Latin lists of 

 plants, not one word of which could he understand — what a task I . 



" Glorious weather ! " said B., rubbing his hands. " TMiat for r* 

 I replied, glancing dismally at the pouring rain. ' ' 



" Oh, for my sluice," said B. ; "I have been repairing the old sluice 

 of the lesser tank and am conducting the water into the town ; it is 

 sure to be running now ; it was almost up to the level this morning 

 and must be over by this time : we '11 go out and have a look at it 

 after diimer." 



Here a shivering wretch, in a state of seminudity and covered with 

 mud, came up to the door and salaamed ; B.'s face brightened, a few 

 words passed, and B. jumping up snatched his hat; "All right," 

 he exclaimed, " I thought so — the water is flowing— let 's go and see 

 the first trickle that has run down the old water-course for I don't 

 know how many centuries." 



Off we went in the pouring rain, threading our way along the 

 jungle till we came to the bank, where B.'s working party were busy 

 clearing out the last remnants of rubbish from the ancient drain. 



The water was indeed running through the stone portals built for 

 it centuries ago, but long unused and neglected. B. was delighted, 

 and I must confess I somewhat shared his enthusiasm. He has 

 cleared the ruins of many an ancient fane from the jungle that sur- 

 rounded them, at bis own expense, and opened up all the space 

 between his house and one of the dagobas, roimd whose stone terrace 

 we strolled when the rain ceased a Uttle. 



I was disappointed at the first near view of these stupendous 

 structures, but on walking round I could pretty well estimate their 

 size, and a broken place set a new idea working in my head, — the 

 bricks here were plainly visible, — and I could not help mentally cal- 

 culating the vast number that had been used to form this mass. 



