[Footnote 1: For an account of the capab_Ceylon; an Account of the Island Physical, Historical, and Topographical with Notices of Its Natural History, Antiquities and Productions, Volume 1

as regards navigation, see BROOKE'S _Report, Roy. Geog. Journ._ vol.

iii. p. 223. and _post_, Vol. II. p. 423.]

All these streams are liable, during the fury of the monsoons, to be

surcharged with rain till they overflow their banks, and spread in wide

inundations over the level country. On the subsidence of these waters,

the intense heat of the sun acting on the surface they leave deserted,

produces a noxious and fatal malaria. Hence the rivers of Ceylon present

the curious anomaly, that whilst the tanks and reservoirs of the

interior diffuse a healthful coolness around, the running water of the

rivers is prolific of fevers; and in some seasons so deadly is the

pestilence that the Malabar coolies, as well as the native peasantry,

betake themselves to precipitate flight.[1]

[Footnote 1: It has been remarked along the Mahawelli-ganga, a few miles

from Kandy, that during the deadly season, after the subsidence of the

rains, the jungle fever generally attacks one face of the hills through

which it winds, leading the opposite side entirely exempted, as if the

poisonous vapour, being carried by the current of air, affected only

those aspects against which it directly impinged.]

Few of the larger rivers have been bridged, except those which intersect

the great high roads from Point-de-Galle to Colombo, and thence to

Kandy. Near the sea this has been effected by timber platforms,

sustained by piles sufficiently strong to withstand the force of the

floods at the change of each monsoon. A bridge of boats connects each

side of the Kalany, and on reaching the Mahawelli-ganga at Peradenia,

one of the most picturesque structures on the island is a noble bridge

of a single arch, 205 feet in span, chiefly constructed of satin-wood,

and thrown across the river by General Fraser in 1832.

On reaching the margin of the sea, an appearance is presented by the

outline of the coast, near the embouchures of the principal rivers,

which is very remarkable. It is common to both sides of the island,

though it has attained its greatest development on the east. In order to

comprehend its formation, it is necessary to observe that Ceylon lies in

the course of the ocean currents in the Bay of Bengal, which run north

or south according to the prevalence of the monsoon, and with greater or

less velocity in proportion to its force at particular periods.

[Illustration: CURRENT IN THE NE MONSOON.]

In the beginning and during the strength of the northeast monsoon the

current sets strongly along the coast of Coromandel to the southward, a

portion of it frequently entering Palks Bay to the north of Ceylon; but

the main stream keeping invariably to the east of the island, runs with

a velocity of from one and a half to two miles an hour, and after

passing the Great Bass, it keeps its course seaward. At other times,

after the monsoon has spent its violence, the current is weak, and

follows the line of the land to the westward as far as Point-de-Galle,

or even to Colombo.

[Illustration: CURRENT IN THE S.W. MONSOON]

In the south-west monsoon the current changes its direction; and,

although it flows steadily to the northward, its action is very

irregular and unequal till it readies the Coromandel coast, after

passing Ceylon. This is accounted for by the obstruction opposed by the

headlands of Ceylon, which so intercept the stream that the current,

which might otherwise set into the Gulf of Manaar, takes a

south-easterly direction by Galle and Donedra Head.[1]

[Footnote 1: For an account of the currents of Ceylon, see HORSBURGH's

_Directions for Sailing to and from the East Indies, &c._; vol i. p.

516, 536, 580; KEITH JOHNSTON's _Physical Atlas_, plate xiii. p. 50.]

There being no lakes in Ceylon[1], in the still waters of which the

rivers might clear themselves of the earthy matter swept along in their

rapid course from the hills, they arrive at the beach laden with sand

and alluvium, and at their junction with the ocean being met

transversely by the gulf-streams, the sand and soil with which they are

laden, instead of being carried out to sea, are heaped up in bars along

the shores, and these, being augmented by similar deposits held in

suspension by the currents, soon extend to north, and south, and force

the rivers to flow behind them in search of a new outlet.

[Footnote 1: Pliny alludes to a lake in Ceylon of vast dimensions, but

it is clear that his informants must have spoken of one of the huge

tanks for the purpose of irrigation. Some of the _Mappe-mondes_ of the

Middle Ages place a lake in the middle of the island, with a city

inhabited by astrologers; but they have merely reproduced the error of

earlier geographers. (SANTAREM, _Cosmog_. tom. iii. p. 336.)]

These formations once commenced, their growth proceeds with rapidity,

more especially on the east side of the island; as the southern current

in skirting the Coromandel coast brings with it quantities of sand,

which it deposits, in tranquil weather, and this being carried by the

wind is piled in heaps from Point Pedro to Hambangtotte. Hence at the

latter point hills are formed of such height and dimensions, that it is

often necessary to remove buildings out of their line of

encroachment.[1]

[Footnote 1: This is occasioned by the waste of the banks further north

during the violence of the N. E. monsoon; and the sand, being carried

south by the current, is intercepted by the headland at Hambangtotte and

thrown up these hills as described.]

[Illustration: "GOBBS" ON THE EAST COAST]

At the mouths of the rivers the bars thus created generally follow the

direction of the current, and the material deposited being dried and

partially consolidated in the intervals between the tides, long

embankments are gradually raised, behind which the rivers flow for

considerable distances before entering the sea. Occasionally these

embouchures become closed by the accumulations without, and the pent-up

water assumes the appearance of a still canal, more or less broad

according to the level of the beach, and extending for miles along the

coast, between the mainland and the new formations. But when swollen by

the rains, if not assisted by artificial outlets to escape, they burst

new openings for themselves, and not unfrequently they leave their

ancient channels converted into shallow lagoons without any visible

exit. Examples of these formations present themselves on the east side

of Ceylon at Nilla-velle, Batticaloa, and a number of other places north

and south of Trincomalie.

On the west coast embankments of this kind, although frequent are less

conspicuous than on the east, owing chiefly to the comparative weakness

of the current. For six months in the year during the north-east monsoon

that side of the island is exempt from a current in any direction, and

for the remaining six, the current from the south not only rarely

affects the Gulf of Manaar, but as it flows out of the Indian Ocean it

brings no earthy deposits. In addition to this, the surf during the

south-west monsoon rolls with such turbulence on the level beach between

Colombo and Point-de-Galle, as in a great degree to disperse the

accumulations of sand brought down by the rivers, or heaped up by the

tide, when the wind is off the land. Still, many of the rivers are

thrown back by embankments, and after forming tortuous lakes flow for a

long distance parallel to the shore, before finding an escape for their

waters. Examples of this occur at Pantura, to the south of Colombo, and

at Negombo, Chilaw, and elsewhere to the north of it.

[Illustration: GOBBS ON THE WEST COAST]

In process of time these banks of sand[1] become covered with

vegetation; herbaceous plants, shrubs, and finally trees peculiar to

saline soils make their appearance in succession, and as these decay,

their decomposition generates a sufficiency of soil to sustain continued

vegetation.

[Footnote 1: In the voyages of _The Two Mahometans_, the unique MS. of

which dates about A.D. 851, and is now in the Bibliothèque Royale at

Paris, Abon-zeyd, one of its authors, describes the "Gobbs" of Ceylon--a

word, he says, by which the natives designate the valleys deep and broad

which open to the sea. "En face de cette íle y a de vastes _Gobb_, mot

par lequel on désigne une vallée, quand elle est à la fois longue et

large, et qu'elle débouche dans la mer. Les navigateurs emploient, pour

traverser le _gobb_ appelé 'Gobb de Serendib,' deux mois et même

davantage, passant à travers des bois et des jardins, au milieu d'une

température moyenne."--REINAUD, _Voyages faits par les Arabes_, vol. i.

p. 129.

A misapprehension of this passage has been admitted into the English

version of the _Voyages of the two Mahometans_ which is published in

PINKERTON'S _Collections of Voyages and Travels_, vol. iii.; the

translator having treated gobb as a term applicable to valleys in

general. "Ceylon," he says, "contains valleys of great length, which

extend to the sea, and here travellers repair for two months or more, in

which one is called Gobb Serendib, allured by the beauty of the scenery,

chequered with groves and plains, water and meadows, and blessed by a

balmy air. The valley opens to the sea, and is transcendently

pleasant."--PINKERTON'S _Voyages_, vol. vii. p. 218.

But a passage in Edrisi, while it agrees with the terms of Abou-zeyd,

explains at the same time that these gobbs were not valleys converted

into gardens, to which the seamen resorted for pleasure to spend two or

three months, but the embouchures of rivers flowing between banks,

covered with gardens and forests, into which mariners were accustomed to

conduct their vessels for more secure navigation, and in which they were

subjected to detention for the period stated. The passage is as follows

in Jaubert's translation of Edrisi, tom. i. p. 73:--"Cette île

(Serendib) depend des terres de l'Inde; ainsi que les vallées (in orig.

aghbab) par lesquelles se dechargent les rivières, et qu'on nomme

'Vallées de Serendib.' Les navires y mouillent, et les navigateurs y

passent un mois ou deux dans l'abondance et dans les plaisirs."

It is observable that Ptolemy, in enumerating the ports and harbours of

Ceylon, maintains a distinction between the ordinary bays, [Greek:

kolpos], of which he specifies two corresponding to those of Colombo and

Trincomalie, and the shallower indentations, [Greek: limên], of which he

enumerates five, the positions of which go far to identify them with the

remarkable estuaries or _gobbs_, on the eastern and western coast

between Batticaloa and Calpentyn.

To the present day these latter gulfs are navigable for small craft. On

the eastern side of the island one of them forms the harbour of

Batticaloa, and on the western those of Chilaw and Negombo are bays of

this class. Through the latter a continuous navigation has been

completed by means of short connecting canals, and a traffic is

maintained during the south-west monsoon, from Caltura to the north of

Chilaw, a distance of upwards of eighty miles, by means of craft which

navigate these shallow channels.

These narrow passages conform in every particular to the description

given by Abou-zeyd and Edrisi: they run through a succession of woods

and gardens; and as a leading wind is indispensable for their

navigation, the period named by the Arabian geographers for their

passage is perhaps not excessive during calms or adverse winds.

An article on the meaning of the word gobb will be found in the _Journal

Asiatique_ for September, 1844; but it does not exhibit clearly the very

peculiar features of these openings. It is contained in an extract from

the work on India of ALBYROUNI, a contemporary of Avicenna, who was born

in the valley of the Indus.--"Un golfe (gobb) est comme une encoignure

et un détour que fait la mer en pénétrant dans le continens: les navires

n'y sont pas sans péril particulièrement à l'égard du flux et

reflux."--_Extrait de l'ouvrage d'_ ALBYROUNI _sur l'Inde; Fragmens

Arabes et Persans, relatifs à l'Inde, recueillés par_ M. REINAUD;

_Journ. Asiat., Septembre et Octobre_, 1844, p. 261. In the Turkish

nautical work of SIDI ALI CHELEBI, the _Mohit_, written about A.D. 1550,

which contains directions for sailors navigating the eastern seas, the

author alludes to the _gobbha's_ on the coast of Arracan; and conscious

that the term was local not likely to be understood beyond those

countries, he adds that "gobbha" means "_a gulf full of shallows,

shoals, and breakers_." See translation by VON HAMMER, _Journ. Asiat.

Soc. Beng._ v. 466.]

The process of this conversion may be seen in all its stages at various

points along the coast of Ceylon.

The margin of land nearest to the water is first taken possession of by

a series of littoral plants, which apparently require a large quantity

of salt to sustain their vegetation. These at times are intermixed with

others, which, though found further inland, yet flourish in perfection

on the shore. On the northern and north-western coasts the glass

worts[1] and salt worts[2] are the first to appear on the newly raised

banks, and being provided with penetrating roots, a breakwater is thus

early secured, and the drier sand above becomes occupied with creeping

plants which in their turn afford shelter to a third and erect class.

[Footnote 1: Salicornia Indica.]

[Footnote 2: Salsola Indica.]

The Goat's-foot Ipomoea[1], which appears to encircle the world, abounds

on these shores, covering the surface to the water's edge with its

procumbent branches, which sending down roots from every joint serve to

give the bank its first firmness, whilst the profusion of its

purple-coloured flowers contrasts strikingly with its dark green

foliage.

[Footnote 1: Ipomoea pes-capræ]

Along with the Ipomoea grow two species of beans[1] each endowed with a

peculiar facility for reproduction, thus consolidating the sands into

which they strike; and the moodu-gaeta-kola[2] (literally the "jointed

seashore plant,") with pink flowers and thick succulent leaves.

[Footnote 1: The Mooduawara (_Canavalia obtusifolia_), whose flowers

have the fragrance of the sweet pea, and _Dolichos luteus_.]

[Footnote 2: Hydrophylax maritima.]

Another plant which performs an important function in the fertilisation

of these arid formations, is the _Spinifex squarrosus_, the "water

pink," as it is sometimes called by Europeans. The seeds of this plant

are contained in a circular head, composed of a series of spine-like

divisions, which radiate from the stalk in all directions, making the

diameter of the whole about eight to nine inches. When the seeds are

mature, and ready for dispersion, these heads become detached from the

plant, and are carried by the wind with great velocity along the sands,

over the surface of which they are impelled on their elastic spines. One

of these balls may be followed by the eye for miles as it hurries along

the level shore, dropping its seeds as it rolls, which speedily

germinate and strike root where they fall. The globular heads are so

buoyant as to float lightly on the water, and the uppermost spines

acting as sails, they are thus carried across narrow estuaries to

continue the process of embanking on newly-formed sand bars. Such an

organisation irresistibly suggests the wonderful means ordained by

Providence to spread this valuable plant along the barren beach to which

no seed-devouring bird ever resorts; and even the unobservant natives,

struck by its singular utility in resisting the encroachments of the

sea, have recorded their admiration by conferring on it the name of

_Maha-Rawana roewula_,--"the great beard of Rawana or Rama."

The banks being thus ingeniously protected from the action of the air

above, and of the water at their base, other herbaceous plants soon

cover them in quick succession, and give the entire surface the first

aspect of vegetation. A little retired above high water are to be found

a species of _Aristolochia_[1], the Sayan[2], or _Choya_, the roots of

which are the Indian Madder (in which, under the Dutch Government, some

tribes in the Wanny paid their tribute); the gorgeous _Gloriosa

superba_, the beautiful _Vistnu-karandi_[3] with its profusion of blue

flowers, which remind one of the English "Forget-me-not," and the

thickly-matted verdure of the _Hiramana-doetta_[4], so well adapted for

imparting consistency to the soil. In the next stage low shrubs make

their appearance, their seeds being drifted by the waves and wind, and

taking ready root wherever they happen to rest. The foremost of these

are the Scævolas[5] and Screw Pines[6], which grow luxuriantly within

the actual wash of the tide, while behind them rises a dense growth of

peculiar plants, each distinguished by the Singhalese by the prefix of

"Moodu," to indicate its partiality for the sea.[7]

[Footnote 1: _Aristolocia bracteata_. On the sands to the north of

Ceylon there is also the _A. Indica_, which forms the food of the great

red and white butterfly (_Papilio Hector_).]

[Footnote 2: _Hedyotis umbellata_. A very curious account of the Dutch

policy In relation to Choya dye will be found in a paper _On the

Vegetable Productions of Ceylon_, by W.C. ONDAATJIE, in the _Ceylon

Calendar_ for 1853. See also BERTOLACCI, B. iii. p. 270.]

[Footnote 3: Evolvulus alsinoides.]

[Footnote 4: Lippia nodiflora.]

[Footnote 5: Scævola takkada and S. Koenigii]

[Footnote 6: Pandanus odoratissimus.]

[Footnote 7: _Moodu-kaduru (Ochrosia parviflora); Moodu-cobbe

(Ornitrophe serrata); Moodu-murunga (Sophora tomentosa_,) &c. &c.

Amongst these marine shrubs the Nil-picha (_Guettarda speciosca_), with

its white and delightfully fragrant flowers, is a conspicuous object on

some parts of the sea-shore between Colombo and Point-de-Galle.]

Where the sand in the lagoons and estuaries is more or less mingled with

the alluvium brought down by the rivers, there are plants of another

class which are equally characteristic. Amongst these the Mangroves[1]

take the first place in respect to their mass of vegetation; then follow

the Belli-patta[2] and Suriya-gaha[3], with their large hibiscus-like

flowers; the Tamarisks[4]; the Acanthus[5], with its beautiful blue

petals and holly-like leaves; the Water Coco-nut[6]; the Ægiceras and

Hernandia[7], with its sonorous fruits; while the dry sands above are

taken possession of by the Acacias, _Salvadora Persica_ (the true

mustard-tree of Scripture[8], which, here attains a height of forty

feet), Ixoras, and the numerous family of Cassias.

[Footnote 1: Two species of _Rhizophora_, two of _Bruguiera_, and one of

_Ceriops_.]

[Footnote 2: Paritimn tilliaceum.]

[Footnote 3: Thespesia populnea.]

[Footnote 4: Tamarix Indica.]

[Footnote 5: Dilivaria ilicifolia.]

[Footnote 6: Nipa fruticans.]

[Footnote 7: Hernandia sonora.]

[Footnote 8: The identification of this tree with the mustard-tree

alluded to by our Saviour is an interesting fact. The Greek term [Greek:

sinapis], which occurs Matt. xiii 31, and elsewhere, is the name given

to _mustard_; for which the Arabic equivalent is _chardul_ or _khardal_,

and the Syriac _khardalo_. The same name is applied at the present day

to a tree which grows freely in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, and

generally throughout Palestine; the seeds of which, have an aromatic

pungency, which enables them to be used instead of the ordinary mustard

(_Sinapis nigra_); besides which, its structure presents all the

essentials to sustain the illustration sought to be established in the

parable, some of which are wanting or dubious in the common plant, It

has a very small seed; it may be sown in a garden: it grows into an

"herb," and eventually "becometh a tree; so that the birds of the air

come and lodge in the branches thereof." With every allowance for the

extremest development attainable by culture, it must be felt that the

dimensions of the domestic _sinapis_ scarcely justify the last

illustration; besides which it is an annual, and cannot possibly be

classed as a "tree." The khardal grows abundantly in Syria: it was found

in Egypt by Sir Gardner Wilkinson; in Arabia by Bové; on the Indus by

Sir Alexander Burnes; and throughout the north-west of India it bears

the name of kharjal. Combining all these facts, Dr. Royle, in an erudite

paper, has shown demonstrative reasons for believing that the _Salvadora

Persica_, the "kharjal" of Hindostan, is the "khardal" of Arabia, the

"chardul" of the Talmud, and the "mustard-tree" of the parable.]

Lastly, after a sufficiency of earth has been formed by the decay of

frequent successions of their less important predecessors, the ground

becomes covered by trees of ampler magnitude, most of which are found

upon the adjacent shores of the mainland--the Margoza[1], from whose

seed the natives express a valuable oil; the Timbiri[2], with the

glutinous nuts with which the fishermen "bark" their nets; the

Cashu-nut[3]; the Palu[4], one of the most valuable timber trees of the

Northern Provinces; and the Wood-apple[5], whose fruit is regarded by

the Singhalese as a specific for dysentery.

[Footnote 1: Azadirachta Indica.]

[Footnote 2: Diospyros glutinosa.]

[Footnote 3: Anacardium occidentale.]

[Footnote 4: Mimusopa hexandra.]

[Footnote 5: Ægle marmelos.]

But the most important fact connected with these recently formed

portions of land, is their extraordinary suitability for the growth of

the coco-nut, which requires the sea-air (and in Ceylon at least appears

never to attain its full luxuriance when removed to any considerable

distance from it)[1], and which, at the same time, requires a light and

sandy soil, and the constant presence of water in large quantities. All

these essentials are combined in the sea-belts here described, lying as

they do between the ocean on the one side and the fresh-water lakes

formed by the great rivers on the other, thus presenting every requisite

of soil and surface. It is along a sand formation of this description,

about forty miles long and from one to three miles broad, that thriving

coco-nut plantations have been recently commenced at Batticaloa. At

Calpentyn, on the western coast, a like formation has been taken

advantage of for the same purpose. At Jaffna somewhat similar

peculiarities of soil and locality have been seized on for this

promising cultivation; and, generally, along the whole seaborde of

Ceylon to the south and west, the shore for the breadth of one or two

miles exhibits almost continuous groves of coco-nut palms.

[Footnote 1: Coco-nuts are cultivated at moderate elevations in the

mountain villages of the Interior; but the fruit bears no comparison, in

number, size, or weight, with that produced in the lowlands, and near

the sea, on either side of the island.]

_Harbours_.--With the exception of the estuaries above alluded to,

chiefly in the northern section of the island, the outline of the coast

is interrupted by few sinuosities. There are no extensive inlets, or

bays, and only two harbours--that of _Point-de-Galle_ which, in addition

to being incommodious and small, is obstructed by coral rocks, reefs of

which have been upreared to the surface, and render the entrance

critical to strange ships[1]; and the magnificent basin of Trincomalie,

which, in extent, security, and beauty, is unsurpassed by any haven in

the world.

[Footnote 1: Owing to the obstructions at its entrance, Galle is

extremely difficult of access in particular winds. In 1857 it was

announced in the _Colombo Examiner_ that "the fine ship the 'Black

Eagle' was blown out of Galle Roads the other day, with the pilot on

board; whilst the captain was temporarily engaged on shore; and as she

was not able to beat in again, she made for Trincomalie, where she has

been lying for a fortnight. Such an event is by no means unprecedented

at Galle."--_Examiner_, 20 Sept. 1857.]

_Tides_.--The variation of the tides is so slight that navigation is

almost unaffected by it. The ordinary rise and fall is from 18 to 24

inches, with an increase of about a third at spring tides. High water is

later on the eastern than on the western coast; occurring, on full and

new moon, a little after eleven o'clock at Adam's Bridge, about 1

o'clock at Colombo, and 1.25 at Galle, whilst it attains its greatest

elevation between 5 and 6 o'clock in the harbour of Trincomalie.

_Red infusoria_.--On both sides of the island (but most frequently at

Colombo), during the south-west monsoon, a broad expanse of the sea

assumes a red tinge, considerably brighter than brick-dust; and this is

confined to a space so distinct that a line seems to separate it from

the green water which flows on either side. Observing that the whole

area changed its position without parting with any portion of its

colouring, I had some of the water brought on shore, and, on examination

with the microscope, it proved to be filled with _infusoria_, probably

similar to those which have been noticed near the shores of South

America, and whose abundance has imparted a name to the "Vermilion Sea"

off the coast of California.

THE POPULATION OF CEYLON, of all races, was, in 1857, 1,697,975; but

this was exclusive of the military and their families, both Europeans

and Malays, which together amounted to 5,430; and also of aliens and

other casual strangers, forming about 25,000 more.

The particulars are as follow:--

|sq. mile. |

|Western. |1,293|1,246|293,409|259,106|294,702|260,352 | 146.59 |

|N. Western | 21| 11|100,807| 96,386|100,828| 96,397 | 59.93 |

|Southern | 238| 241|156,900|149,649|157,138|149,890 | 143.72 |

|Eastern | 201| 143| 39,923| 35,531| 40,124| 35,674 | 16.08 |

|Northern | 387| 362|153,062|148,678|153,449|149,040 | 55.85 |

|Central | 468| 204|143,472|116,237|143,940|116,441 | 52.57 |

| |2,608|2,207|887,573|805,587|890,181|807,794 | 69.73 |

CHAP. II.

CLIMATE.--HEALTH AND DISEASE.

The climate of Ceylon, from its physical configuration and insular

detachment, contrasts favourably with that of the great Indian

peninsula. Owing to the moderate dimensions of the island, the elevation

of its mountains, the very short space during which the sun is passing

over it[1] in his regression from or approach to the solstices, and its

surrounding seas being nearly uniform in temperature, it is exempt from

the extremes of heating and cooling to which the neighbouring continent

of India is exposed. From the same causes it is subjected more uniformly

to the genial influences of the trade winds that blow over the Indian

Ocean and the Bay of Bengal.

[Footnote 1: In his approach to the northern solstice, the sun, having

passed the equator on the 21st of March, reaches the south of Ceylon

about the 5th of April, and ten days later is vertical over Point Pedro,

the northern extremity of the island. On his return he is again over

Point Pedro about the 27th of August, and passes southward over Dondera

Head about the 7th of September.]

The island is seldom visited by hurricanes[1], or swept by typhoons, and

the breeze, unlike the hot and arid winds of Coromandel and the Dekkan,

is always more or less refreshing. The range of the thermometer exhibits

no violent changes, and never indicates a temperature insupportably

high. The mean on an annual average scarcely exceeds 80° at Colombo,

though in exceptional years it has risen to 86°. But at no period of the

day are dangerous results to be apprehended from exposure to the sun;

and except during parts of the months of March, and April, there is no

season when moderate exercise is not practicable and agreeable. For half

the year, from October to May, the prevailing winds are from the

north-east, and during the remaining months the south-west monsoon blows

steadily from the great Indian Ocean. The former, affected by the wintry

chills of the vast tracts of land which it traverses before crossing the

Bay of Bengal, is subject to many local variations and intervals of

calm. But the latter, after the first violence of its outset is abated,

becomes nearly uniform throughout the period of its prevalence, and

presents the character of an on-shore breeze extending over a prodigious

expanse of sea and land, and exerting a powerful influence along the

regions of southern Asia.

[Footnote 1: The exception to the exemption of Ceylon from hurricanes is

the occasional occurrence of a cyclone extending its circle till the

verge has sometimes touched Batticaloa, on the south-eastern extremity

of the island, causing damage to vegetation and buildings. Such an event

is, however, exceedingly rare. On the 7th of January, 1805, H.M.S.

"Sheerness" and two others were driven on shore in a hurricane at

Trincomalie.]

In Ceylon the proverbial fickleness of the winds, and the uncertainty

which characterises the seasons in northern climates, is comparatively

unknown; and the occurrence of changes or rain may be anticipated with

considerable accuracy in any month of a coming year. There are, of

course, abnormal seasons with higher ranges of temperature, heavier

rains, or droughts of longer continuance, but such extremes are

exceptional and rare. Great atmospheric changes occur only at two

opposite periods of the year, and so gradual is their approach that the

climate is monotonous, and one longs to see again "the falling of the

leaf" to diversify the sameness of perennial verdure. The line is faint

which divides the seasons. No period of the year is divested of its

seed-time and its harvest in some part of the island; and fruit hangs

ripe on the same branches that are garlanded with opening buds. But as

every plant has its own period for the production of its flowers and

fruit, each month is characterised by its own peculiar flora.

As regards the foliage of the trees, it might be expected that the

variety of tints would be wanting which forms the charm of a European

landscape, and that all nature would wear one mantle of unchanging

green. But it has been remarked by a tasteful observer[1] that such is

far from the fact, and though in Ceylon there is no revolution of

seasons, the change of leaf on the same plant exhibits colours as bright

as those which tinge the autumnal woods of America. It is not the

decaying leaves, but the fresh shoots, which exhibit these brightened

colours, the older are still vividly green, whilst the young are

bursting forth; and the extremities of the branches present tufts of

pale yellow, pink, crimson, and purple, which give them at a distance

the appearance of a cluster of flowers.[2]

[Footnote 1: Prof. Harvey, Trin. Coll. Dublin.]

[Footnote 2: Some few trees, such as the margosa (_Azadirachta Indica_),

the country almond (_Terminalia catappa_), and others, are deciduous,

and part with their leaves. The cinnamon shoots forth in all shades from

bright yellow to dark crimson. The maella _(Olax Zeylanica)_ has always

a copper colour; and the ironwood trees of the interior have a perfect

blaze of young crimson leaves, as brilliant as flowers. The lovi-lovi

(_Flacourtia inermis_) has the same peculiarity; while the large bracts

of the mussænda (_Mussænda frondosa_) attract the notice of Europeans

for their angular whiteness.]

A notice of the variations exhibited by the weather at Colombo may serve

as an index to the atmospheric condition of the rest of the island,

except in those portions (such as the mountains of the interior, and the

low plains of the northern extremity) which exhibit modifications of

temperature and moisture incident to local peculiarities.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.E.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 85.6º

Mean least 69.2º

Rain (inches) 3.1]

_January_.--At the opening of the year, the north-east monsoon, which

sets in two months previously, is nearly in mid career. This wind,

issuing from the chill north and robbed of its aqueous vapour in passing

over the elevated mountain regions on the confines of China and Thibet,

sweeps across the Bay of Bengal, whence its lowest strata imbibe a

quantity of moisture, moderate in amount, yet still leaving the great

mass of air far below saturation. Hence it reaches Ceylon comparatively

dry, and its general effects are parching and disagreeable. This

character is increased as the sun recedes towards its most southern

declination, and the wind acquires a more direct draught from the north;

passing over the Indian peninsula and almost totally digested of

humidity, it blows down the western coast of the island, and is known

there by the name of the "along-shore-wind." For a time its influence is

uncomfortable and its effects injurious both to health and vegetation:

it warps and rends furniture, dries up the surface of the earth, and

withers the delicate verdure which had sprung up during the prevalence

of the previous rains. These characteristics, however, subside towards

the end of the month, when the wind becomes somewhat variable with a

westerly tendency and occasional showers; and the heat of the day is

then partially compensated by the greater freshness of the nights. The

fall of rain within the month scarcely exceeds three inches.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.E.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 89°

Mean least 71°

Rain (inches) 2.1]

_February_ is dry and hot during the day, but the nights are cloudless

and cool, and the moonlight singularly agreeable. Rain is rare, and when

it occurs it falls in dashes, succeeded by damp and sultry calms. The

wind is unsteady and shifts from north-east to north-west, sometimes

failing entirely between noon and twilight. The quantity of rain is less

than in January, and the difference of temperature between day and night

is frequently as great as 15° or 20°.[1]

[Footnote 1: Dr. MACVICAR, in a paper in the _Ceylon Miscellany_, July,

1843, recorded the results of some experiments, made near Colombo, as to

the daily variation of temperature and Its effects on cultivation, from

which it appeared that a register thermometer, exposed on a tuft of

grass in the cinnamon garden in a clear night and under the open sky, on

the 2nd of January, 1841, showed in the morning that it had been so low

as 52°, and when laid on the ground in the place in the sunshine on the

following day, it rose to upwards of 140° Fahr.]

[Sidenote:

Wind N.E. to N.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 87.7°

Mean least 73.1°

Rain (inches) 2.1]

_March_.--In March the heat continues to increase, the earth receiving

more warmth than it radiates or parts with by evaporation. The day

becomes oppressive, the nights unrefreshing, the grass is withered and

brown, the earth hard and cleft, the lakes shrunk to shallows, and the

rivers evaporated to dryness. Europeans now escape from the low country,

and betake themselves to the shade of the forests adjoining the

coffee-plantations in the hills; or to the still higher sanatarium of

Neuera-ellia, nearly the loftiest plateau in the mountains of the

Kandyan range. The winds, when any are perceptible, are faint and

unsteady with a still increasing westerly tendency, partial showers

sometimes fall, and thunder begins to mutter towards sunset. At the

close of the month, the mean temperature will be found to have advanced

about a degree, but the sensible temperature and the force of the sun's

rays are felt in a still more perceptible proportion.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.W. to S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 88.7°

Mean least 73.6°

Rain (inches) 7.4]

_April_ is by far the most oppressive portion of the year for those who

remain at the sea-level of the island. The temperature continues to rise

as the sun in his northern progress passes vertically over the island. A

mirage fills the hollows with mimic water; the heat in close apartments

becomes extreme, and every living creature flies to the shade from the

suffocating glare of mid-day. At length the sea exhibits symptoms of an

approaching change, a ground swell sets in from the west, and the breeze

towards sunset brings clouds and grateful showers. At the end of the

month the mean temperature attains its greatest height during the year,

being about 83° in the day, and 10° lower at night.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.W. to S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 87.2°

Mean least 72.9°

Rain (inches) 13.3]

_May_ is signalised by the great event of the change of the monsoon, and

all the grand phenomena which accompany its approach.

It is difficult for any one who has not resided in the tropics to

comprehend the feeling of enjoyment which accompanies these periodical

commotions of the atmosphere; in Europe they would be fraught with

annoyance, but in Ceylon they are welcomed with a relish proportionate

to the monotony they dispel.

Long before the wished-for period arrives, the verdure produced by the

previous rains becomes almost obliterated by the burning droughts of

March and April. The deciduous trees shed their foliage, the plants

cease to put forth fresh leaves, and all vegetable life languishes under

the unwholesome heat. The grass withers on the baked and cloven earth,

and red dust settles on the branches and thirsty brushwood. The insects,

deprived of their accustomed food, disappear underground or hide beneath

the decaying bark; the water-beetles bury themselves in the hardened mud

of the pools, and the _helices_ retire into the crevices of the stones

or the hollows amongst the roots of the trees, closing the apertures of

their shells with the hybernating epiphragm. Butterflies are no longer

seen hovering over the flowers, the birds appear fewer and less joyous,

and the wild animals and crocodiles, driven by the drought from their

accustomed retreats, wander through the jungle, and even venture to

approach the village wells in search of water. Man equally languishes

under the general exhaustion, ordinary exertion becomes distasteful, and

the native Singhalese, although inured to the climate, move with

lassitude and reluctance.

Meanwhile the air becomes loaded to saturation with aqueous vapour drawn

up by the augmented force of evaporation acting vigorously over land and

sea: the sky, instead of its brilliant blue, assumes the sullen tint of

lead, and not a breath disturbs the motionless rest of the clouds that

hang on the lower range of hills. At length, generally about the middle

of the month, but frequently earlier, the sultry suspense is broken by

the arrival of the wished-for change. The sun has by this time nearly

attained his greatest northern declination, and created a torrid heat

throughout the lands of southern Asia and the peninsula of India. The

air, lightened by its high temperature and such watery vapour as it may

contain, rises into loftier regions and is replaced by indraughts from

the neighbouring sea, and thus a tendency is gradually given to the

formation of a current bringing up from the south the warm humid air of

the equator. The wind, therefore, which reaches Ceylon comes laden with

moisture, taken up in its passage across the great Indian Ocean. As the

monsoon draws near, the days become more overcast and hot, banks of

clouds rise over the ocean to the west, and in the peculiar twilight the

eye is attracted by the unusual whiteness of the sea-birds that sweep

along the strand to seize the objects flung on shore by the rising surf.

At last the sudden lightnings flash among the hills and sheet through

the clouds that overhang the sea[1], and with a crash of thunder the

monsoon bursts over the thirsty land, not in showers or partial

torrents, but in a wide deluge, that in the course of a few hours

overtops the river banks and spreads in inundations over every level

plain.

[Footnote 1: The lightnings of Ceylon are so remarkable, that in the

middle ages they were as well known to the Arabian seamen, who coasted

the island on their way to China, as in later times the storms that

infested the Cape of Good Hope were familiar to early navigators of

Portugal. In the _Mohit_ of SIDI ALI CHELEBI, translated by Von Hammer,

it is stated that to seamen, sailing from Diu to Malacca, "the sign of

Ceylon being near is continual lightning, be it accompanied by rain or

without rain; so that 'the lightning of Ceylon' is proverbial for a

liar!"--_Journ. Asiat. Soc. Beng._ v. 465.]

All the phenomena of this explosion are stupendous: thunder, as we are

accustomed to be awed by it in Europe, affords but the faintest idea of

its overpowering grandeur in Ceylon, and its sublimity is infinitely

increased as it is faintly heard from the shore, resounding through

night and darkness over the gloomy sea. The lightning, when it touches

the earth where it is covered with the descending torrent, flashes into

it and disappears instantaneously; but, when it strikes a drier surface,

in seeking better conductors, it often opens a hollow like that formed

by the explosion of a shell, and frequently leaves behind it traces of

vitrification.[1] In Ceylon, however, occurrences of this kind are rare,

and accidents are seldom recorded from lightning, probably owing to the

profusion of trees, and especially of coco-nut palms, which, when

drenched with rain, intercept the discharge, and conduct the electric

matter to the earth. The rain at these periods excites the astonishment

of a European: it descends in almost continuous streams, so close and so

dense that the level ground, unable to absorb it sufficiently fast, is

covered with one uniform sheet of water, and down the sides of

acclivities it rushes in a volume that wears channels in the surface.[2]

For hours together, the noise of the torrent, as it beats upon the trees

and bursts upon the roofs, flowing thence in rivulets along the ground,

occasions an uproar that drowns the ordinary voice, and renders sleep

impossible.

[Footnote 1: See DARWIN'S _Naturalist's Voyage_, ch. iii. for an account

of those vitrified siliceous tubes which are formed by lightning

entering loose sand. During a thunderstorm which passed over Galle, on

the 16th May, 1854, the fortifications were shaken by lightning, and an

extraordinary cavity was opened behind the retaining wall of the

rampart, where a hole, a yard in diameter, was carried into the ground

to the depth of twenty feet, and two chambers, each six feet in length,

branched out on either side at its extremity.]

[Footnote 2: One morning on awaking at Pusilawa, in the hills between

Kandy and Neuera-ellia, I was taken to see the effect of a few hours'

rain, during the night, on a macadamised road which I had passed the

evening before. There was no symptom of a storm at sunset, and the

morning was bright and cloudless; but between midnight and dawn such an

inundation had swept the highway that in many places the metal had been

washed over the face of the acclivity; and in one spot where a sudden

bend forced the torrent to impinge against the bank, it had scooped out

an excavation extending to the centre of the high road, thirteen feet in

diameter, and deep enough to hold a carriage and horses.]

This violence, however, seldom lasts more than an hour or two, and

gradually abates after intermittent paroxysms, and a serenely clear sky

supervenes. For some days, heavy showers continue to fall at intervals

in the forenoon; and the evenings which follow are embellished by

sunsets of the most gorgeous splendour, lighting the fragments of clouds

that survive the recent storm.

[Sidenote:

Wind S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 85.8°

Mean least 74.4°

Rain (inches) 6.8]

_June_.--The extreme heat of the previous month becomes modified in

June: the winds continue steadily to blow from the south-west, and

frequent showers, accompanied by lightning and thunder, serve still

further to diffuse coolness throughout the atmosphere and verdure over

the earth.

So instantaneous is the response of Nature to the influence of returning

moisture, that, in a single day, and almost between sunset and dawn, the

green hue of reviving vegetation begins to tint the saturated ground. In

ponds, from which but a week before the wind blew clouds of sandy dust,

the peasantry are now to be seen catching the re-animated fish; and

tank-shells and water-beetles revive and wander over the submerged

sedges. The electricity of the air stimulates the vegetation of the

trees; and scarce a week will elapse till the plants are covered with

the larvæ of butterflies, the forest murmuring with the hum of insects,

and the air harmonious with the voice of birds.

The extent to which the temperature is reduced, after the first burst of

the monsoon, is not to be appreciated by the indications of the

thermometer alone, but is rendered still more sensible by the altered

density of the air, the drier state of which is favourable to

evaporation, whilst the increase of its movement bringing it more

rapidly in contact with the human body, heat is more readily carried

off, and the coolness of the surface proportionally increased. It

occasionally happens during the month of June that the westerly wind

acquires considerable strength, sometimes amounting to a moderate gale.

The fishermen, at this period, seldom put to sea: their canoes are drawn

far up in lines upon the shore, and vessels riding in the roads of

Colombo are often driven from their anchorage and stranded on the beach.

[Sidenote:

Wind S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 84.8º

Mean least 74.9º

Rain (inches) 3.4]

_July_ resembles, to a great extent, the month which precedes it, except

that, in all particulars the season is more moderate, showers are less

frequent, there is less wind, and less absolute heat.

[Sidenote:

Wind S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 84.9°

Mean least 74.7°

Rain (inches) 2.8]

_August_.--In August the weather is charming, notwithstanding

withstanding a slight increase of heat, owing to diminished evaporation;

and the sun being now on its return to the equator, its power is felt in

greater force on full exposure to its influence.

[Sidenote:

Wind S.W.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 84.9º

Mean least 74.8º

Rain (inches) 5.2]

_September_.--The same atmospheric condition continues throughout

September, but towards its close the sea-breeze becomes unsteady and

clouds begin to collect, symptomatic of the approaching change to the

north-east monsoon. The nights are always clear and delightfully cool.

Rain is sometimes abundant.

[Sidenote:

Wind S.W. and N.E.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 85.1º

Mean least 73.3º

Rain (inches) 11.2]

_October_ is more unsettled, the wind veering towards the north, with

pretty frequent rain; and as the sun is now far to the southward, the

heat continues to decline.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.E.

Temperature, 24 hours:

Mean greatest 86.3º

Mean least 71.5º

Rain (inches) 10.7]

_November_ sees the close of the south-west monsoon and the arrival of

the north-eastern. In the early part of the month the wind visits nearly

every point of the compass, but shows a marked predilection for the

north, generally veering from N.E. at night and early morning, to N.W.

at noon; calms are frequent and precede gentle showers, and clouds form

round the lower range of hills. By degrees as the sun advances in its

southern declination, and warms the lower half of the great African

continent, the current of heated air ascending from the equatorial belt

leaves a comparative vacuum, towards which the less rarefied atmospheric

fluid is drawn down from the regions north, of the tropic, bringing with

it the cold and dry winds from the Himalayan Alps, and the lofty ranges

of Assam. The great change is heralded as before by oppressive calms,

lurid skies, vivid lightning, bursts of thunder, and tumultuous rain.

But at this change of the monsoon the atmospheric disturbance is less

striking than in May; the previous temperature is lower, the moisture of

the air is more reduced, and the change is less agreeably perceptible

from the southern breeze to the dry and parching wind from the north.

[Sidenote:

Wind N.E.

Temperature 24 hours:

Mean greatest 85°

Mean least 70°

Rain (inches) 4.3]

_December_.--In December the sun attains to its greatest southern

declination, and the wind setting steadily from the northeast brings

with it light but frequent rains from Bay Of Bengal. The thermometer

shows a maximum temperature of 85° with a minimum of 70°; the morning

and the afternoon are again enjoyable in the open air, but at night

every lattice that faces the north is cautiously closed against the

treacherous "along-shore-wind."

Notwithstanding the violence and volume in which the rains have been

here described as descending during the paroxysms of the monsoons, the

total rain-fall in Ceylon is considerably less than on the continent of

Throughout Hindustan the annual mean is 117.5 and on some parts on the

Malabar coast, upwards of 300 inches have fallen in a single year[1];

whereas the in Ceylon rarely exceeds 80, and the highest registered in

an exceptional season was 120 inches.

[Footnote 1: At Mahabaleshwar, in the Western Ghauts, the annual mean is

254 inches, and at Uttray Mullay; in Malabar, 263; whilst at Bengal it

is 209 inches at Sylhet; and 610.3 at Cherraponga.]

The distribution is of course unequal, both as to time and localities,

and in those districts where the fall is most considerable, the number

of rainless days is the greatest.[1] An idea may be formed of the deluge

that descends in Colombo during the change of the monsoon, from the fact

that out of 72.4 inches, the annual average there, no less than 20.7

inches fall in April and May, and 21.9 in October and November, a

quantity one-third greater than the total rain in England throughout an

entire year.

[Footnote 1: The average number of days on which rain fell at Colombo in

the years 1832, 1833, 1834, and 1835, was as follows:--

Days.

In January 3

February 4

March 6

April 11

May 13

June 13

July 8

August 10

September 14

October 17

November 11

December 8

---

Total 118]

In one important particular the phenomenon, of the Dekkan affords an

analogy for that which presents itself in Ceylon. During the south-west

monsoon the clouds are driven against the lofty chain of mountains that

overhang the western shore of the peninsula, and their condensed vapour

descends there in copious showers. The winds, thus early robbed of their

moisture, carry but little rain to the plains of the interior, and

whilst Malabar is saturated by daily showers, the sky of Coromandel is

clear and serene. In the north-east monsoon a condition the very

opposite exists; the wind that then prevails is much drier, and the

hills which it encounters being of lower altitude, the rains are carried

further towards the interior, and whilst the weather is unsettled and

stormy on the eastern shore, the western is comparatively exempt, and

enjoys a calm and cloudless sky.[1]

[Footnote 1: The mean of rain is, on the western side of the Dekkan, 80

inches, and on the eastern, 52.8.]

In like manner the west coast of Ceylon presents a contrast with the

east, both in the volume of rain in each of the respective monsoons, and

in the influence which the same monsoon exerts simultaneously on the one

side of the island and on the other. The greatest quantity of rain falls

on the south-western portion, in the month of May, when the wind from

the Indian Ocean is intercepted, and its moisture condensed by the lofty

mountain ranges, surrounding Adam's Peak. The region principally

affected by it stretches from Point-de-Galle, as far north as Putlam,

and eastward till it includes the greater portion of the ancient Kandyan

kingdom. But the rains do not reach the opposite side of the island;

whilst the west coast is deluged, the east is sometimes exhausted with

dryness; and it not unfrequently happens that different aspects of the

same mountain present at the same moment the opposite extremes of

drought and moisture.[1]

[Footnote 1: ADMIRAL FITZROY has described, in his _Narrative of the

Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle_, the striking degree in which this

simultaneous dissimilarity of climate is exhibited on opposite sides of

the Galapagos Islands; one aspect exposed to the south being covered

with verdure and freshened with moisture, whilst all others are barren

and parched.--Vol. ii. p. 502-3. The same state of things exists in the

east and west sides of the Peruvian Andes, and in the mountains of

Patagonia. And no more remarkable example of it exists than in the

island of Socotra, east of the Straits of Bab el Mandeb, the west coast

of which, during the north-east monsoon, is destitute of rain and

verdure, whilst the eastern side is enriched by streams and covered by

luxuriant pasturage.--_Journ. Asiat. Soc. Beng._ vol. iv. p. 141.]

[Illustration: DIAGRAM EXHIBITING THE COMPARATIVE FALL OF RAIN ON THE

SEABORDE OF THE DEEKAN, AND AT COLOMBO, IN THE WESTERN PROVINCE OF

CEYLON.

One maximum at the spring change of the monsoon anticipating a little

that on the West coast of India; another at the autumnal change

corresponding more exactly with that of the East coast. The entire fall

through the year more equably distributed at Columbo.]

On the east coast, on the other hand, the fall, during the north-east

monsoon, is very similar in degree to that on the coast of Coromandel,

as the mountains are lower and more remote from the sea, the clouds are

carried farther inland and it rains simultaneously on both sides of the

island, though much less on the west than during the other monsoon.

_The climate of Galle_, as already stated, resembles in its general

characteristics that of Colombo, but, being further to the south, and

more equally exposed to the influence of both the monsoons, the

temperature is not quite so high; and, during the cold season, it falls

some degrees lower, especially in the evening and early morning.[1]

[Footnote 1: At Point-de-Galle, in 1854, the number of rainy days was as

follows:

Days.

January 12

February 7

March 16

April 12

May 23

June 18

July 11

August 21

September 16

October 20

November 15

December 13]

_Kandy_, from its position, shares in the climate of the western coast;

but, from the frequency of the mountain showers, and its situation, at

an elevation of upwards of sixteen hundred feet above the level of the

sea, it enjoys a much cooler temperature. It differs from the low

country in one particular, which is very striking--the early period of

the day at which the maximum heat is attained. This at Colombo is

generally between two and three o'clock in the afternoon, whereas at

Kandy the thermometer shows the highest temperature of the day between

ten and eleven o'clock in the morning.

In the low country, ingenuity has devised so many expedients for defence

from the excessive heat of the forenoon, that the languor it induces is

chiefly experienced after sunset, and the coolness of the night is

insufficient to compensate for the exhaustion of the day; but, in Kandy,

the nights are so cool that it is seldom that warm covering can be

altogether dispensed with. In the colder months, the daily range of the

thermometer is considerable--approaching 30°; in the others, it differs

little from 15°. The average mean, however, of each month throughout the

year is nearly identical, deviating only a degree from 76°, the mean

annual temperature.[1]

[Footnote 1: The following Table appeared in the _Colombo Observer_, and

is valuable from the care taken by Mr. Caley in its preparation;

_Analysis of the Climate at Peradenia, from 1851 to 1858 inclusive._

| |Max. |Min.|Mean.|age | In.|of | |

| | | | | of | |Years / |

| | | | |Years| \ / |

|January |85.0 |52.5|74.06|6 |4.04 |6 |Fine, sunny, heavy dew at |

|February |87.75|55.0|75.76|7 |1.625 |6 |Fine, sunny, dewy nights, |

|March |89.5 |59.5|77.42|7 |3.669 |6 |Generally a very hot and |

|April |89.5 |67.5|77.91|7 |7.759 |6 |Showery, sultry, and |

|May |88.0 |66.0|77.7 |8 |8.022 |6 |Cloudy, windy, rainy; |

| monsoon generally changes.|

|June |86.0 |71.0|76.69|8 |7.155 |6 |A very wet and stormy month.|

|July |86.0 |67.0|75.64|8 |5.72 |6 |Ditto ditto |

|August |85.5 |67.0|75.81|8 |8.55 |6 |Showery, but sometimes more |

|September |85.5 |67.0|76.13|8 |6.318 |6 |Pretty dry weather, compared|

|October |85.73|68.2|75.1 |8 |15.46 |6 |Wind variable, much rain. |

|November |84.0 |62.0|74.79|8 |14.732|6 |Wind variable, storms from |

|December |82.75|57.0|74.05|7 |7.72 |5 |Sometimes wet, but generally|

Mean yearly Temperature, Mean yearly Nov. 29, 1858

75.92º Rainfall, 91.75 J.A. CALEY.

in. nearly.]

In all the mountain valleys, the soil being warmer than the air, vapour

abounds in the early morning for the most part of the year. It greatly

adds to the chilliness of travelling before dawn; but, generally

speaking, it is not wetting, as it is charged with the same electricity

as the surface of the earth and the human body. When seen from the

heights, it is a singular object, as it lies compact and white as snow

in the hollows beneath, but it is soon put in motion by the morning

currents, and wafted in the direction of the coast, where it is

dissipated by the sunbeams.

_Snow_ is unknown in Ceylon; _Hail_ occasionally falls in the Kandyan

hills at the change of the monsoon,[1] but more frequently during that

from the north-east. As observed at Kornegalle, the clouds, after

collecting as usual for a few evenings, and gradually becoming more

dense, advanced in a wedge-like form, with a well-defined outline. The

first fall of rain was preceded by a downward blast of cold air,

accompanied by hailstones which outstripped the rain in their descent.

Rain and hail then poured down together, and, eventually, the latter

only spread its deluge far and wide, In 1852, the hail which thus fell

at Kornegalle was of such a size that half-a-dozen lumps filled a

tumbler, In shape, they were oval and compressed, but the mass appeared

to have formed an hexagonal pyramid, the base of which was two inches in

diameter, and about half-an-inch thick, gradually thinning towards the

edge. They were tolerably solid internally, each containing about the

size of a pea of clear ice at the centre, but the sides and angles were

spongy and flocculent, as if the particles had been driven together by

the force of the wind, and had coalesced at the instant of contact. A

phenomenon so striking as the fall of ice, at the moment of the most

intense atmospherical heat, naturally attracts the wonder of the

natives, who hasten to collect the pieces, and preserve them, when

dissolved, in bottles, from a belief in their medicinal properties. Mr.

Morris, who has repeatedly observed hailstones in the Seven Korles, is

under the impression that their occurrence always happens at the first

outburst of the monsoon, and that they fall at the moment, which is

marked by the first flash of lightning.

[Footnote 1: It is stated in the _Physical Atlas_ of KEITH JOHNSTON,

that hail in India has not been noticed south of Madras. But in Ceylon

it has fallen very recently at Korngalle, at Badulla, at Kaduganawa; and

I have heard of a hail storm at Jaffna. On 1 the 24th of Sept. 1857,

during a thunder-storm, hail fell near Matelle in such quantity that in

places it formed drifts upwards of a foot in depth.]

According to Professor Stevelly, of Belfast, the rationale of their

appearance on such occasions seems to be that, on the sudden formation

and descent of the first drops, the air expanding and rushing into the

void spaces, robs the succeeding drops of their caloric so effectually

as to send them to the earth frozen into ice-balls.

These descriptions, it will be observed, apply exclusively to the

southern regions on the east and west of Ceylon; and, in many

particulars, they are inapplicable to the northern portions of the

island. At Trincomalie, the climate bears a general resemblance to that

of the Indian peninsula south of Madras: showers are frequent, but

light, and the rain throughout the year does not exceed forty inches.

With moist winds and plentiful dew, this sustains a vigorous vegetation

near the coast; but in the interior it would be insufficient for the

culture of grain, were not the water husbanded in tanks; and, for this

reason, the bulk of the population are settled along the banks of the

great rivers.

The temperature of this part of Ceylon follows the course of the sun,

and ranges from a minimum of 70° in December and January, to a maximum

of 94° in May and June; but the heat is rendered tolerable at all

seasons by the steadiness of the land and sea breezes.[1]

[Footnote 1: The following facts regarding the climate of Trincomalie

have been, arranged from elaborate returns furnished by Mr. Higgs, the

master-attendant of the port, and published under the authority of the

meteorological department of the Board of Trade:--

_Trincomalie_.

|Extreme

Jan. | 81.3° | 74.7° | 14° | 83 | 10

Feb. | 83.8 | 75.8 | 14 | 86 | 7

Mar. | 85.9 | 76.1 | 16 | 88 | 3

April| 89.6 | 78.9 | 16 | 92 | 3

May | 89.1 | 79.3 | 19 | 93 | 3

June | 90.0 | 79.5 | 19 | 94 | 3

July | 87.7 | 77.7 | 16 | 90 | 5

Aug. | 87.9 | 77.4 | 16 | 91 | 4

Sept.| 89.3 | 77.8 | 18 | 93 | 2

Oct. | 85.2 | 75.8 | 15 | 89 | 14

Nov. | 81.O | 74.9 | 11 | 83 | 15

Dec. | 80.1 | 74.3 | 11 | 82 | 15

Mean temperature for the year 81.4.]

In the extreme north of the island, the peninsula of Jaffna, and the

vast plains of Neura-kalawa and the Wanny, form a third climatic

division, which, from the geological structure and peculiar

configuration of the district, differs essentially from the rest of

Ceylon. This region, which is destitute of mountains, is undulating in a

very slight degree; the dry and parching north-east wind desiccates the

soil in its passage, and the sandy plains are covered with a low and

scanty vegetation, chiefly fed by the night dews and whatever moisture

is brought by the on-shore wind. The total rain of the year does not

exceed thirty inches; and the inhabitants live in frequent apprehension

of droughts and famines. These conditions attain their utmost

manifestation at the extreme north and in the Jaffna peninsula: there

the temperature is the highest[1] in the island, and, owing to the

humidity of the situation and the total absence of hills, it is but

little affected by the changes of the monsoons; and the thermometer

keeps a regulated pace with the progress of the sun to and from the

solstices. The soil, except in particular spots, is porous and sandy,

formed from the detritus of the coral rocks which it overlays. It is

subject to droughts sometimes of a whole year's continuance; and rain,

when it falls, is so speedily absorbed, that it renders but slight

service to cultivation, which is entirely carried on by means of tanks

and artificial irrigation, in the practice of which the Tamil population

of this district exhibits singular perseverance and ingenuity.[2] In the

dry season, when scarcely any verdure is discernible above ground, the

sheep and goats feed on their knees--scraping away the sand, in order to

reach the wiry and succulent roots of the grasses. From the constancy of

this practice horny callosities are produced, by which these hardy

creatures may be distinguished.

[Footnote 1: The mean lowest temperature at Jaffna is 70º, the mean

highest 90º; but in 1845-6 the thermometer rose to 90º and 100º.]

[Footnote 2: For an account of the Jaffna wells, and the theory of their

supply with fresh water, see ch. i. p. 21.]

Water-spouts are frequent on the coast of Ceylon, owing to the different

temperature of the currents of air passing across the heated earth and

the cooler sea, but instances are very rare of their bursting over land,

or of accidents in consequence.[1]

[Footnote 1: CAMOENS, who had opportunities of observing the phenomena

of these seas during his service on board the fleet of Cabral, off the

coast of Malabar and Ceylon, has introduced into the _Lusiad_ the

episode of a water-spout in the Indian Ocean; but, under the belief that

the water which descends had been previously drawn up by suction from

the ocean, he exclaims:--

"But say, ye sages, who can weigh the cause,

And trace the secret springs of Nature's laws;

Say why the wave, of bitter brine erewhile,

Should be the bosom of the deep recoil,

Robbed of its salt, and from the cloud distil,

Sweet as the waters of the limpid rill?"

(Book v.)

But the truth appears to be that the torrent which descends from a

water-spout, is but the condensed accumulation of its own vapour, and,

though in the hollow of the lower cone which rests upon the surface of

the sea, salt water may possibly ascend in the partial vacuum caused by

revolution; or spray may be caught up and collected by the wind, still

these cannot be raised by it beyond a very limited height, and what

Camoens saw descend was, as he truly says, the sweet water distilled

from the cloud.]

A curious phenomenon, to which the name of "anthelia" has been given,

and which may probably have suggested to the early painters the idea of

the glory surrounding the heads of beatified saints, is to be seen in

singular beauty, at early morning, in Ceylon. When the light is intense,

and the shadows proportionally dark--when the sun is near the horizon,

and the shadow of a person walking is thrown on the dewy grass--each

particle of dew furnishes a double reflection from its concave and

convex surfaces; and to the spectator his own figure, but more

particularly the head, appears surrounded by a halo as vivid as if

radiated from diamonds.[1] The Buddhists may possibly have taken from

this beautiful object their idea of the _agni_ or emblem of the sun,

with which the head of Buddha is surmounted. But unable to express a

_halo_ in sculpture, they concentrated it into a _flame_.

[Footnote 1: SCORESBY describes the occurrence of a similar phenomenon

in the Arctic Seas in July, 1813, the luminous circle being produced on

the particles of fog which rested on the calm water. "The lower part of

the circle descended beneath my feet to the side of the ship, and

although it could not be a hundred feet from the eye, it was perfect,

and the colours distinct. The centre of the coloured circle was

distinguished by my own shadow, the head of which, enveloped by a halo,

was most conspicuously pourtrayed. The halo or glory evidently impressed

on the fog, but the figure appeared to be a shadow on the water; the

different parts became obscure in proportion to their remoteness from

the head, so that the lower extremities were not perceptible."--_Account

of the Arctic Regions_, vol. i. ch. v. sec. vi. p. 394. A similar

phenomenon occurs in the Khasia Hills, in the north-east of

Bengal.--_Asiat. Soc. Journ. Beng._ vol. xiii. p. 616.]

[Illustration: THE ANTHELIA AS IT APPEARS TO THE PERSON HIMSELF]

Another luminous phenomenon which sometimes appears in the hill country,

consists of beams of light, which intersect the sky, whilst the sun is

yet in the ascendant; sometimes horizontally, accompanied by

intermitting movements, and sometimes vertically, a broad belt of the

blue sky interposing between them.[1]

[Footnote 1: VIGNE mentions an appearance of this kind in the valley of

Kashmir: "Whilst the rest of the horizon was glowing golden over the

mountain tops, a broad well-defined ray-shaped streak of indigo was

shooting upwards in the zenith: it remained nearly stationary about an

hour, and was then blended into the sky around it, and disappeared with

the day. It was, no doubt, owing to the presence of some particular

mountains which intercepted the red rays, and threw a blue shadow, by

causing so much of the sky above Kashmir to remain unaffected by

them."--_Travels in Kashmir_, vol. ii. ch. x. p. 115.]

In Ceylon this is doubtless owing to the air holding in suspension a

large quantity of vapour, which receives shadows and reflects rays of

light. The natives, who designate them "Buddha's rays," attach a

superstitious dread to their appearance, and believe them to be

portentous of misfortune--in every month, with the exception of _May_,

which, for some unexplained reason, is exempted.

HEALTH.--In connection with the subject of "Climate," one of the most

important inquiries is the probable effect on the health and

constitution of a European produced by a prolonged exposure to an

unvarying temperature, upwards of 30 degrees higher than the average of

Great Britain. But to this the most tranquillising reply is the

assurance that _mere heat, even to a degree beyond that of Ceylon, is

not unhealthy in itself_. Aden, enclosed in a crater of an extinct

volcano, is not considered insalubrious; and the hot season in India,

when the thermometer stands at 100° at midnight, is comparatively a

healthy period of the year. In fact, in numerous cases heat may be the

means of removing the immediate sources of disease. Its first

perceptible effect is a slight increase, of the normal bodily

temperature beyond 98°, and, simultaneously, an increased activity of

all the vital functions. To this everything contributes an exciting

sympathy--the glad surprise of the natural scenery, the luxury of

verdure, the tempting novelty of fruits and food, and all the

unaccustomed attractions of a tropical home. Under these combined

influences the nervous sensibility is considerably excited, and the

circulation acquires greater velocity, with somewhat diminished force.

This is soon followed, however, by the disagreeable evidences of the

effort made by the system to accommodate itself to the new atmospheric

condition. The skin often becomes fretted by "prickly heat," or

tormented by a profusion of boils, but relief being speedily obtained

through these resources, the new comer is seldom afterwards annoyed by a

recurrence of the process, unless under circumstances of impaired tone,

the result of weakened digestion or climatic derangement.

_Malaria_.--Compared with Bengal and the Dekkan, the climate of Ceylon

presents a striking superiority in mildness and exemption from all the

extremes of atmospheric disturbance; and, except in particular

localities, all of which are well known and avoided[1], from being

liable after the rains to malaria, or infested at particular seasons

with agues and fever, a lengthened residence in the island may be

contemplated, without the slightest apprehension of prejudicial results.

These pestilential localities are chiefly at the foot of mountains, and,

strange to say, in the vicinity of some active rivers, whilst the vast

level plains, whose stagnant waters are made available for the

cultivation of rice, are seldom or never productive of disease. It is

even believed that the deadly air is deprived of its poison in passing

over an expanse of still water; and one of the most remarkable

circumstances is, that the points fronting the aerial currents are those

exposed to danger, whilst projecting cliffs, belts of forest, and even

moderately high walls, serve to protect all behind them from attack.[2]

In traversing districts suspected of malaria, experience has dictated

certain precautions, which, with ordinary prudence and firmness, serve

to neutralise the risk--retiring punctually at sunset, generous diet,

moderate stimulants, and the daily use of quinine both before and after

exposure. These, and the precaution, at whatever sacrifice of comfort,

to sleep under mosquito curtains, have been proved in long journeys to

be valuable prophylactics against fever and the pestilence of the

jungle.

[Footnote 1: Notwithstanding this general condition, fevers of a very

serious kind have been occasionally known to attack persons on the

coast, who had never exposed themselves to the miasma of the jungle.

Such instances have occurred at Galle, and more rarely at Colombo. The

characteristics of places in this regard have, in some instances,

changed unaccountably; thus at Persadenia, close to Kandy, it was at one

time regarded as dangerous to sleep.]

[Footnote 2: Generally speaking, a flat open country is healthy, either

when flooded deeply by rains, or when dried to hardness by the sun; but

in the process of dessication, its exhalations are perilous. The wooded

slopes at the base of mountains are notorious for fevers; such as the

_terrai_ of the Nepal hills, the Wynaad jungle, at the foot of the

Ghauts, and the eastern side of the mountains of Ceylon.]

_Food_.--Always bearing in mind that of the quantity of food habitually

taken in a temperate climate, a certain proportion is consumed to

sustain the animal heat, it is obvious that in the glow of the tropics,

where the heat is already in excess, this portion of the ingesta not

only becomes superfluous so far as this office is concerned, but

occasions disturbance of the other functions both of digestion and

elimination. Over-indulgence in food, equally with intemperance in wine,

is one fruitful source of disease amongst Europeans in Ceylon; and

maladies and mortality are often the result of the former, in patients

who would repel as an insult the imputation of the latter.

So well have national habits conformed to instinctive promptings in this

regard, that the natives of hot countries have unconsciously sought to

heighten the enjoyment of food by taking their principal repast _after

sunset_[1]; and the European in the East will speedily discover for

himself the prudence, not only of reducing the quantity, but in regard

to the quality of his meals, of adopting those articles which nature has

bountifully supplied as best suited to the climate. With a moderate use

of flesh meat, vegetables, and especially farinaceous food, are chiefly

to be commended.

[Footnote 1: The prohibition of swine, which has formed an item in the

dietetic ritual of the Egyptians, the Hebrews, and Mahometans, has been

defended in all ages, from Manetho and Herodotus downwards, on the

ground that the flesh of an animal so foully fed has a tendency to

promote cutaneous disorders, a belief which, though held as a fallacy in

northern climates, may have a truthful basis in the East.--ÆLIAN, _Hist.

Anim._ 1. X. 16. In a recent general order Lord Clyde has prohibited its

use in the Indian army. Camel's flesh, which is also declared unclean in

Leviticus, is said to produce in the Arabs serious derangement of the

stomach.]

The latter is rendered attractive by the unrivalled excellence of the

Singhalese in the preparation of innumerable curries[1], each tempered

by the delicate creamy juice expressed from the flesh of the coco-nut

after it has been reduced to a pulp. Nothing of the same class in India

can bear a comparison with the piquant delicacy of a curry in Ceylon,

composed of fresh condiments and compounded by the skilful hand of a

native.

[Footnote 1: The popular error of thinking curry to be an invention of

the Portuguese in India is disproved by the mention in the _Rajavali_ of

its use in Ceylon in the second century before the Christian era, and in

the _Mahawanso_ in the fifth century of it. This subject is mentioned

elsewhere: see chapter on the Arts and Sciences of the Singhalese.]

_The use of fruit_--Fruits are abundant and wholesome; but with the

exception of oranges, pineapples, the luscious mango and the

indescribable "rambutan," for want of horticultural attention they are

inferior in flavour, and soon cease to be alluring.

_Wine_.--Wine has of late years become accessible to all, and has thus,

in some degree, been substituted for brandy; the abuse of which at

former periods is commemorated in the records of those fearful disorders

of the liver, derangements of the brain, exhausting fevers, and visceral

diseases, which characterise the medical annals of earlier times. With a

firm adherence to temperance in the enjoyment of stimulants, and

moderation in the pleasures of the table, with attention to exercise and

frequent resort to the bath, it may be confidently asserted that health

in Ceylon is as capable of preservation and life as susceptible of

enjoyment, as in any country within the tropics.

_Exposure_.--Prudence and foresight are, however, as indispensable there

as in any other climate to escape well-understood risks. Catarrhs and

rheumatism are as likely to follow needless exposure to the withering

"along-shore wind" of the winter months in Ceylon[1], as they are

traceable to unwisely confronting the east winds of March in Great

Britain; and during the alternation, from the sluggish heat which

precedes the monsoon, to the moist and chill vapours that follow the

descent of the rains, intestinal disorders, fevers, and liver complaints

are not more characteristic of an Indian monsoon than an English autumn,

and are equally amenable to those precautions by which liability may be

diminished in either place.

[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 57. It is an agreeable characteristic of the

climate of Ceylon, that sun-stroke, which is so common even in the

northern portions of India, is almost unknown in the island. Sportsmen

are out all day long in the hottest weather, a practice which would be

thought more than hazardous in Oude or the north-west provinces. Perhaps

an explanation of this may be found in the difference in moisture in the

two atmospheres, which may modify the degrees of evaporation; but the

inquiry is a curious one. It is becoming better understood in the army

that active service, and even a moderate exposure to the solar rays

(_always guarding them from the head_,) are conducive rather than

injurious to health in the tropics. The pale and sallow complexion of

ladies and children born in India, is ascribable in a certain degree to

the same process by which vegetables are blanched under shades which

exclude the light:--they are reared in apartments too carefully kept

dark.]

_Paleness_.--At the same time it must be observed, that the pallid

complexion peculiar to old residents, is not alone ascribable to an

organic change in the skin from its being the medium of perpetual

exudation, but in part to a deficiency of red globules in the blood, and

mainly to a reduced vigour in the whole muscular apparatus, including

the action of the heart, which imperfectly compensates by increased

rapidity for diminution of power. It is remarkable how suddenly this

sallowness disappears, and is succeeded by the warm tints of health,

after a visit of a very few days to the plains of Neuera-ellia, or the

picturesque coffee plantations in the hills that surround it.

_Ladies_.--Ladies, from their more regular and moderate habits, and

their avoidance of exposure, might be expected to withstand the climate

better than men; and to a certain extent the anticipation appears to be

correct, but it by no means justifies the assumption of general

immunity. Though less obnoxious to specific disease, debility and

delicacy are the frequent results of habitual seclusion and avoidance of

the solar light. These, added to more obvious causes of occasional

illness, suggest the necessity of vigorous exertion and regular exercise

as indispensable protectives.

If suitably clothed, and not injudiciously fed, children may remain in

the island till eight or ten years of age, when anxiety is excited by

the attenuation of the frame and the apparent absence of strength in

proportion to development. These symptoms, the result of relaxed tone

and defective nutrition, are to be remedied by change of climate either

to the more lofty ranges of the mountains, or, more providently, to

Europe.

_Effects on Europeans already Diseased_.--To persons already suffering

from disease, the experiment of a residence in Ceylon is one of

questionable propriety. Those of a scrofulous diathesis need not

consider it hazardous, as experience does not show that in such there is

any greater susceptibility to local or constitutional disorders, or that

when these are present, there is greater difficulty in their removal.

To those threatened with consumption, the island may be supposed to

offer some advantages in the equability of the temperature, and the

comparative quiescence of the lungs from reduced necessity for

respiratory effort. Besides, the choice of climates presented by Ceylon

enables a patient, by the easy change of residence to a different

altitude and temperature, avoiding the heats of one period and the dry

winds of another, to check to a great extent the predisposing causes

likely to lead to the development of tubercle. This, with attention to

clothing and systematic exercise as preventives of active disease, may

serve to restrain the further progress though it fail to eradicate the

tendency to phthibis. But when already the formation of tubercle has

taken place to any considerable extent, and is accompanied by softening,

the morbid condition is not unlikely to advance with alarming celerity;

and the only compensating circumstance is the diminution of apparent

suffering, ascribable to general languor, and the absence of the

bronchial irritation occasioned by cold humid air.

_Dyspepsia_.--Habitual dyspeptics, and those affected by hepatic

obstructions, had better avoid a lengthened sojourn in Ceylon; but the

tortures of rheumatism and gout, if they be not reduced, are certainly

postponed for longer intervals than those conceded to the same sufferers

in England. Gout, owing to the great cutaneous excretion, in most

instances totally disappears.

_Precautions for Health_.--Next to attention to diet, health in Ceylon

is mainly to be preserved by systematic exercise, and a costume adapted

to the climate and its requirements. Paradoxical as it may sound, the

great cause of disease in hot climates is _cold_. Nothing ought more

cautiously to be watched and avoided than the chills produced by

draughts and dry winds; and a change of dress or position should be

instantly resorted to when the warning sensation of chilliness is

perceived.

_Exercise_.--The early morning ride, after a single cup of coffee and a

biscuit on rising, and the luxury of the bath before dressing for

breakfast, constitute the enjoyments of the forenoon; and a similar

stroll on horseback, returning at sunset to repeat the bath[1]

preparatory to the evening toilette, completes the hygienic discipline

of the day. At night the introduction of the Indian punka into bed-rooms

would be valuable, a thin flannel coverlet being spread over the bed.

Nothing serves more effectually to break down an impaired constitution

in the tropics than the want of timely and refreshing sleep.

[Footnote 1: "Je me souviens que les deux premières années que je fus en

ce pais-là, j'eus deux maladies: _alors je pris la coütume de me bien

laver soir et matin_, et pendant 16 ans que j'y ay demeuré depuis, je

n'ay pas senti le moindre mal."--RIBEYRO, _Hist. de l'Isle de Ceylan_,

vol. v. ch. xix. p. 149.]

_Dress_.--In the selection of dress experience has taught the

superiority of calico to linen, the latter, when damp from the

exhalation of the skin, causing a chill which is injurious, whilst the

former, from some peculiarity in its fibre, however moist it may become,

never imparts the same sensation of cold. The clothing best adapted to

the climate is that whose texture least excites the already profuse

perspiration, and whose fashion presents the least impediment to its

escape.[1] The discomfort of woollen has led to its avoidance as far as

possible; but those who, in England, may have accustomed themselves to

flannel, will find the advantage of persevering to wear it, provided it

is so light as not to excite perspiration. So equipped for active

exercise, exposure to the sun, however hot, may be regarded without

apprehension, provided the limbs are in motion and the body in ordinary

health; but the instinct of all oriental races has taught the necessity

of protecting the head, and European ingenuity has not failed to devise

expedients for this all-important object.

[Footnote 1: "Man not being created an aquatic animal, his skin cannot

with impunity be exposed to perpetual moisture, whether directly applied

or arising from perspiration retained by dress. The importance to health

of keeping the skin _dry_ does not appear to have hitherto received due

attention."--PICKERING, _Races of Man_, &c., ch. xliv.]

From what has been said, it will be apparent that, compared with

continental India, the securities for health in Ceylon are greatly in

favour of the island. As to the formidable diseases which are common to

both, their occurrence in either is characterised by the same appalling

manifestations: dysentery fastens, with all its fearful concomitants, on

the unwary and incautious; and cholera, with its dark horrors, sweeps

mysteriously across neglected districts, exacting its hecatombs. But the

visitation and ravages of both are somewhat under control, and the

experience bequeathed by each gloomy visitation has added to the

facilities for checking its recurrence.[1]

Ceylon; an Account of the Island Physical, Historical, and Topographical with Notices of Its Natural History, Antiquities and Productions, Volume 1 · 第 13 / 31 章

[Footnote 1: For an account of the capabilities of the Mahawelli-ganga,