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The National Geographic Magazine 



up the straight steps between the grooves 

 of the old portcullis, lifting one's weight 

 by main force, and the worst was over. 

 We had rounded the mushroom's lip 

 and had only to tread in the grooves in 

 a long, smooth rock slope, with a com- 

 forting hand rail on the side of dizzy 

 space, as we followed around the curving 

 rim to a final long, quartz staircase that 

 reached the summit. 



THE RUINS OF THi; SUMMIT 



There is a space of level terraces up 

 there Cjuite three acres in extent, and the 

 trees that look like saplings from below, 

 mere tufts, few and scant as the hairs on 

 Bismarck's head, are spreading banyans 

 that give grateful shade from the too 

 radiant sun. Walls and walls, lines of 

 stone foundations and lines of crumbling 

 bricks ran here and there, with cjuartz 

 and carved stone steps in short flights, 

 and platforms happening everywhere. 

 The whole ground-floor plan of the king's 

 palace has been scraped down to bed 

 rock, hard and clean. The top-dressing 

 of trees and bushes was burned, and then 

 the archsologists threw the debris and 

 rubbish over the side, and the monsoon 

 rains washed the place clean, and they 

 studied out the plan, as clearly as from 

 an architect's drawing. There are wells 

 and cisterns, and a bathing tank, thirty 

 feet scjuare, cut from the living rock ; 

 and a square throne or divan hewn on 

 the eastern rim, where the king could 

 lounge in the afternoon shade and survey 

 his populous domains far below. There 

 are sockets in the rock showing where 

 the supports of a wooden pavilion roof, 

 or the staffs for a silk canopy were set, 

 and the seat for the umbrella-bearer be- 

 hind the king's cushion is also intact. 

 The coarse rock glitters with garnet crys- 

 tals and is a natural "Jeweled Throne" 

 that any jeweled personage of the East 

 might envy. 



Now that the foundations are all traced 

 and cleared away, the Archaeological Sur- 

 vey has only to maintain the staircases 

 and ladders, and keep the place free from 

 weeds and vegetation. The archaeologist 



directed a coolie toward a bank of debris, 

 just to show how rich the place was in 

 remains of former occupancy, and the 

 first stroke of the pick loosened a shard. 

 Another deft stroke brought to light half 

 of a plate, and while we marveled a coolie 

 came up over the edge of space, as only 

 Mahatmas are supposed to appear. He 

 had been weeding along the dizziest 

 edges, a rope fastened to his waist lest 

 the suction tread of his bare feet should 

 fail when the weed patch became vertical. 



RETRIBUTION 



When Kasyapa had taken his treasure 

 and gone on high, he tried to gain peace 

 of mind and acquire merit by pious deeds. 

 He summoned priests around him ; the 

 rocks below were honeycombed with her- 

 mits' cells; he built temples and dagobas; 

 he built a monastery in the air beside his 

 palace, and was rigorous in his penances, 

 mortification, and religious offices — but 

 fortifying the approaches to the Lion 

 Rock all of the time, so as to take no 

 chances. Then retribution came over 

 from the mainland in the train of his 

 avenging brother, and fate had it that 

 foolish Kasyapa, instead of sitting still 

 and holding tight to his throne in mid- 

 air, should come down from his high- 

 perched palace and give battle on the 

 low-lying plain in the commonplace way. 

 His elephant stepped aside to escape a 

 marshy spot and his troops, taking it as a 

 movement of retreat, threw down their 

 arms and ran. And the wicked king was 

 slain by his avenging brother, as he 

 stood, alone in an oozy swamp, after all 

 the years of security on his wind-swept 

 rock. 



Then Sigiri was given over to the 

 priests entirely. All the summit palace 

 became a monastery and the uncle of 

 Kasyapa, who began the Mahawanso, 

 continued it there, and the abbotts of 

 Sigiri added to the record in that ideal 

 retreat, which is a literary landmark 

 identified with the Mahawanso in every 

 Cingalese mind. With time and Tamil 

 invasions, with the wear of centuries of 

 sun and monsoon rains, cement and ma- 



