rages over the country,
wrapping the earth sometimes in sheets of lightning which turn sea,
sky and earth to one vivid world of flame. The wind is dry and
parching, so that all windows are kept carefully closed at night;
but, indeed, the mosquitoes are sufficient excuse for that. I have
seen nothing of Colliver and Railton.

"Dec. 31st.--New Year's Eve, and, as I hope, the dawn of brighter
days for us, dear wife. Mr. Eversleigh has to-night, been describing
Adam's Peak to me. Truly this is a most marvellous mountain, and its
effect upon me I find hard to put into words. To-day I watched it
standing solitary and royal from the low hills that surround it.
At its feet waved a very sea of green forest, around its summit were
gathered black clouds charged with lightning. Mr. Eversleigh tells
me of the worship here paid to it, and the thousands of pilgrims that
wear its crags with their patient feet. Can I hope to succeed when
so many with prayers so much more holy have failed? Even as I write,
its unmoved face is mocking the fire of heaven. I dream of the
mountain; night and day it has come to fill my life with dark terror.
I am not by nature timid or despondent, but it is hard to have to
wait here day after day and watch this goal of my hopes--so near, yet
seemingly so forbidding of access.

"On looking back I find I have said nothing about the house where I
am now staying. It lies in the Kolpetty suburb, in the midst of most
lovely gardens, and is called Blue Bungalow, from the colour in which
it is painted. I have made many excursions with Mr. Eversleigh on
the lagoon; but for me the only object in this land of beauty is the
great Peak. I cannot endure this idleness much longer. Colliver
seems to have vanished: at least, I have not seen him.

"Jan. 25th, 1849.--I have been in no mood lately to make any fresh
entry in my Journal. But to-morrow I start for Adam's Peak. At the
last moment my host finds himself unable to go with me, much as he
protests he desires it; but two of his servants will act as my
guides. It is about sixty miles from Colombo to the foot of the
Peak, so that in four days from this time I hope to lay my hand upon
the secret. The two natives (their real names I do not know, but Mr.
Eversleigh has christened them Peter and Paul, which I shall
doubtless find more easy of mastery than their true outlandish
titles) are, as I am assured, trusty, and have visited the mountain
before. We t