282 TWO YEARS IN THE JUNGLE. 



islands. In many places the landscape reminds one of the Florida 

 Everglades, with its archipelago of low islets covered with dark 

 green jungle. The rice, or "paddi," grows in soft mud covered by 

 several inches of water, the flow of which, from one little field to 

 •another, is regulated by means of small dykes. 



It is a strange sight to see all the ryots plowing these fields 

 preparatory to planting the crop. A pair of splay-footed buffaloes 

 are hitched to a wooden plow, which is an exaggerated model of 

 a dog's hind leg ; and then they go floundering through soft mud 

 up to their knees, dragging the plow after them, which slips along 

 quite easily and without seriously disturbing the mud in any way, 

 while the driver flounders along at the rear of the procession. The 

 plow does not turn up the earth at all, but merely tickles it a little 

 to put it in good humor for another crop. 



From Eambukana it is a steady climb to Kandy, and another 

 engine kindly came to the assistance of the one which brought us 

 from Colombo. The scenery along the line of ascent has a narrow 

 escape from tameness. At one point, called Sensation Kock, where 

 the Line is cut in the steep side of a mountain, the view is truly 

 grand. There is a precipice of seven hundred feet for the train to 

 go over if it ever runs off the track at that point ; and, below that, 

 another steep descent of more than a thousand feet to where the 

 bright green paddi-fields lie level in the sun, not a hundred feet 

 above the sea. 



Some of the hiUs near the railway are covered with coffee 

 bushes, but those in the distance and also around Kandy were clad 

 with forest. They are neither grand nor beautiful, and in contrast 

 ■with the Neilgherries they are very tame. But then I doubt if this 

 world can produce another mountain plateau which can match the 

 Neilgherries in beauty and grandeur combined. 



Kandy also is very disappointing — as far behind Ootacamund 

 as Madras is behind Colombo. In the pictures it looks pretty 

 enough, but in reality it looks straggling, topsy-turvy, and more or 

 less dirty. There is a lake in the middle of the town, elaborately 

 walled round, but alas ! its waters are murky, brownish yellow, and 

 thick with mud. It gives one a bilious feeHng to look at it, and, 

 even after a good breakfast, the eye turns from it to the distant 

 hills for comfort. 



The lake is of considerable length and a very pleasant drive 

 follows its sinuous margin all the way around. On the hill-sides 

 which rise on either side are the shops and bungalows nestling in 



