ng them one who
had been for years my schoolfellow. My countrymen were there, as
elsewhere, prominent members of the community.

[Sidenote: THE SCENERY OF CEYLON.]

I was much interested in all I saw during my travels in Ceylon. I was
prepared to see fine scenery and rich foliage, but the reality greatly
exceeded my expectation. On the coast between Galle and Colombo there is
a considerable extent of level land, covered by the cocoanut palm,
which forms much of the wealth of the people. Every part of the tree is
turned to account. The wood is used for rafters, and the leaves for
thatching. The kernel is an article of food, but its principal value
comes from the oil made from it after it has been dried. The nut
contains a liquid, which is deemed by the natives very refreshing. The
fibrous husk round the cocoanut, called coir, is manufactured into
ropes, matting, brushes, and other useful articles. It is largely and
profitably exported. The trees are tapped for a juice, which, boiled
when fresh, gives what is called palm-sugar; but when kept, becomes
intoxicating. The name of the tree in the native language is "Tar"; this
intoxicating juice is called "Taree," and by a well-known custom of
linguistic transposition it is called by English people "Toddy." We have
at Benares palm-trees which furnish this toddy, and I am sorry to say it
is by far too largely used. This cocoanut palm abounds on the coast, and
is always bent towards the sea, as if to welcome its breezes, or to
strengthen itself against them. Away from the coast it well-nigh
disappears, and trees of a very different order are seen on every side,
many of them rising to a great height and covered with beautiful
foliage.

The scenery in the interior is very striking. When travelling on the top
of the coach from Colombo to Kandy, I might have thought myself in my
own Highlands, as mountain after mountain came into view, and our road
in its descents and ascents skirted precipices, where safety demanded
the most careful driving. Long, winding valleys, through which rivers
flowed, with falls and cascades here and there, reminded me of our
finest straths. I saw no large bodies of water like our lochs. There
were two points of marked dissimilarity. The month was December; I
required no great-coat, and the rays of the sun were stronger than was
pleasant. Instead of the leafless trees, and the white covering of the
snow of the Scottish winter, there were trees in their r