CEYLON OHUECHYABDS. 
yard in order, a small annual fund being raised for thi^ 
purpose. But new arrivals take place, old residents 
depart, tlie few sleepers in the lonely churchyard 
are forgotten, and after the lapse of some years 
the question of Who lies here ?” is scarcely 
ever asked, and, if it is, the answer brings back no 
memories of the past, for the inquirer is a stranger. 
Not so with the old resident : he remembers the day 
when a young man fresh from the old country, full 
of strength, life, and hope, laughed at the old-fashioned 
system of toiling for a quarter of a century, in order 
to retire permanently on an independence, with prob- 
ably the sacrifice of health ; he was not so slow as 
to sacrifice his health and happiness ‘‘for the sake 
of gold.’^ He would go home every three or four 
years, see his friends, enjoy himself, spend his money, 
and return to make more. He would not separate 
himself from parents, home, and country : he had been 
better advised. He “ reckoned without his host.” 
With a constitution not yet fully developed and cer- 
tainly not hardened or trained to endure hardships, 
fresh from all the comforts, perhaps luxuries, of home 
life, needing these comforts all the more, during a 
sudden and perhaps first illness, — for most new arrivals 
generally have what is called a “seasoning fever” : if 
they come well through this, they will probably after- 
wards enjoy very good health, but in some even many 
cases they don’t, — he goes home before the anticipated 
three or four years. He is carried to his last home 
on earth, not by loving friends and weeping relations, 
but by a few strangers, who close their remarks after- 
performing the last rites, by inquiring “ Who is to write 
to his mother, and what is to be done with his watch 
and clothes? Well, he had the promise of a good 
planter ; he was not a bad sort of fellow ; it will be 
a sad blow to his friends.” This is all, and he is 
forgotten. 
On up-country estales a death often caused no little 
anxiety to the one on whom the duty devolved of 
carrying out the last duties. There may be no planks 
for a coffin, and, even if there are, there may be no 
carpenter. When it is considered that the funeral must 
take place as soon as possible after the death, the 
difficulty can be understood. An express is sent off 
to the nearest neighbour, probably a good many mile® 
off, for the loan of his carpenter. On his arrival, there 
might possibly be no planks or nails ; in this case 
some old packing-cases are broken up, either for the 
sake of the wood or nails. Black cloth is not a usual 
article to be had or in use in the jungle, so probably 
some old clothes, a remnant of which was brought from 
“ home,” coat, trousers, or both, are cut, up, and nailed 
