Eight Years Wanderings in Ceylon | Page 5

until I was introduced to a
soi-disant store, where everything was to be purchased from a needle to
a crowbar, and from satin to sail-cloth; the useful predominating over
the ornamental in all cases. It was all on a poor scale and after several
inquiries respecting the best hotel, I located myself at that termed the
Royal or Seager's Hotel. This was airy, white and clean throughout; but

there was a barn-like appearance, as there is throughout most private
dwellings in Colombo, which banished all idea of comfort.
A good tiffin concluded, which produced a happier state of mind, I
ordered a carriage for a drive to the Cinnamon Gardens. The general
style of Ceylon carriages appeared in the shape of a caricature of a
hearse: this goes by the name of a palanquin carriage. Those usually
hired are drawn by a single horse, whose natural vicious propensities
are restrained by a low system of diet.
In this vehicle, whose gaunt steed was led at a melancholy trot by an
equally small-fed horsekeeper, I traversed the environs of Colombo.
Through the winding fort gateway, across the flat Galle Face (the
race-course), freshened by the sea-breeze as the waves break upon its
western side; through the Colpettytopes of cocoanut trees shading the
road, and the houses of the better class of European residents to the
right and left; then turning to the left - a few minutes of expectation -
and behold the Cinnamon Gardens!
What fairy-like pleasure-grounds have we fondly anticipated! what
perfumes of spices, and all that our childish imaginations had pictured
as the ornamental portions of a cinnamon garden!
A vast area of scrubby, low jungle, composed of cinnamon bushes, is
seen to the right and left, before and behind. Above, is a cloudless sky
and a broiling sun; below, is snow-white sand of quartz, curious only in
the possibility of its supporting vegetation. Such is the soil in which the
cinnamon delights; such are the Cinnamon Gardens, in which I delight
not. They are an imposition, and they only serve as an addition to the
disappointments of a visitor to Colombo. In fact, the whole place is a
series of disappointments. You see a native woman clad in snow-white
petticoats, a beautiful tortoiseshell comb fastened in her raven hair; you
pass her - you look back - wonderful! she has a beard! Deluded stranger,
this is only another disappointment; it is a Cingalese Appo - a man - no,
not a man - a something male in petticoats; a petty thief, a treacherous,
cowardly villain, who would perpetrate the greatest rascality had he
only the pluck to dare it. In fact, in this petticoated wretch you see a
type of the nation of Cingalese.

On the morning following my arrival in Ceylon, I was delighted to see
several persons seated at the "table-d'hôte" when I entered the room, as
I was most anxious to gain some positive information respecting the
game of the island, the best localities, etc., etc. I was soon engaged in
conversation, and one of my first questions naturally turned upon sport.
"Sport!" exclaimed two gentlemen simultaneously - "sport!" there is no
sport to be had in Ceylon!" -- "at least the race-week is the only sport
that I know of," said the taller gentleman.
"No sport!" said I, half energetically and half despairingly. "Absurd!
every book on Ceylon mentions the amount of game as immense; and
as to elephants -"
Here I was interrupted by the same gentleman. "All gross
exaggerations," said he -"gross exaggerations; in fact, inventions to
give interest to a book. I have an estate in the interior, and I have never
seen a wild elephant. There may be a few in the jungles of Ceylon, but
very few, and you never see them."
I began to discover the stamp of my companion from his expression,
"You never see them." Of course I concluded that he had never looked
for them; and I began to recover front the first shock which his
exclamation, "There is no sport in Ceylon !" had given me.
I subsequently discovered that my new and non-sporting acquaintances
were coffee-planters of a class then known as the Galle Face planters,
who passed their time in cantering about the Colombo race-course and
idling in the town, while their estates lay a hundred miles distant,
uncared for, and naturally ruining their proprietors.
That same afternoon, to my delight and surprise, I met an old
Gloucestershire friend in an officer of the Fifteenth Regiment, then
stationed in Ceylon. From him I soon learnt that the character of
Ceylon for game had never been exaggerated; and from that moment
my preparations for the jungle commenced.
I rented a good airy house in Colombo as headquarters, and the

verandas were soon strewed with jungle-baskets,