A WOULD-BE ESTATE FRCFEIETOR OE THE 
OLDEN TIME. 
disappeared into a dense mass of luxuriant rank ve- 
getation below. 
Now this rank vegetation into and under which he 
disappeared was neither more nor less than a large 
nullah or hollow, filled with dense thick growth 
of the “ prickly mausa.” This is a rank prickly 
plant, every leaf and stem covered with prickles, which 
can pierce easily through the clothing, leaving a sting 
behind, both in present and after results far worse 
than the sting of a bee or wasp. Just fancy every 
inch of your body perforated by the stings of a swarm 
of bees, and you will have some idea, although a faint 
one, of what one is doomed to suffer, if suddenly 
plunged in a “ mausa scrub.” 
The Sinhalese, at a respectful distance, having great 
respect for their own naked limbs, looked down into 
the scrub below, and saw nothing except the trail of 
Mr Diddler’s descent, and instead of doing anything 
with promptitude and despatch they both sat down, 
took a chew of betel and commenced a long conver- 
sation as to whether he could be dead or alive, and, 
if the latter, if his legs or arms could be broken ; 
if the former would they be held responsible, or have 
to undergo any court examination. They even thought 
of going away back, and saying nothing about it, in 
ease they might be brought into trouble. But, on 
consideration, they found that would not do, for it 
was known they had gone as his guides, and some time 
or other they would be called upon to account for 
his disappearance, and so after putting off a great deal 
of time in useless talking, they resolved to do what 
any white man would have done at first without talking 
about it — they descended round the edge of the mausa, 
down to the bottom of the ravine j arrived there, with 
their knives they cut two strong sticks and with them 
beat a path through the scrub ; after getting some 
distance in they stopped, and shouted out, which was 
immediately responded to close by. A few steps more 
and there is Mr Diddler lying on his back, not a bone 
or bit of skin broken, but every part of his body 
stung and blistered, as if he had fallen into a swarm 
of bees. They lift him up, carry him out, and set 
him down on the banks of a stream close by ; his 
clothes are all taken off — no difficult task ; he is washed 
down in the nearest pool ; his clothes are shaken, and 
cleaned a bit. then put on. The bottle is uncorked, 
and a good internal stimulant swallowed, after which 
Mr Diddler revived ; he got up, stretched himself. 
“ No bones broken,” says he, not even a bad bruise — 
what a wonderful escape; just pass the bottle this way 
again, His guides now asked if he was ready to 
