Nov.26.--All vestiges of open country had long ceased.We now rode for seventeen miles through magnificent forest, containing the most stupendous banian trees that I have ever beheld.The ebony trees were also very numerous, and grew to an immense size.This forest was perfectly open.There was not a sign of either underwood or grass beneath the trees, and no track was discernible beyond the notches in the trees made at some former time by the Veddah's axe.In one part of this forest a rocky mountain appeared at some period to have burst into fragments; and for the distance of about a mile it formed the apparent ruins of a city of giants.Rocks as large as churches lay piled one upon the other.forming long dark alleys and caves that would have housed some hundreds of men.
The effect was perfectly fairylike, as the faint silver light of the sun, mellowed by the screen of tree tops, half-lighted up ,these silent caves.The giant stems of the trees sprang like tall columns from the foundations of the rocks that shadowed them with their dense foliage.
Two or three families of 'Cyclops' would not have been out of place in this spot; they were just the class of people that one would expect to meet.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at the long-talked-of village of Oomanoo, about eighteen miles from our last encampment.It was a squalid, miserable place, of course, and nothing was obtainable.Our coolies had not tasted food since the preceding evening; but, by good luck, we met a travelling Moorman, who had just arrived at the village with a little rice to exchange with the Veddahs for dried venison.As the villagers did not happen to have any meat to barter, we purchased all the rice at an exorbitant price; but it was only sufficient for half a meal for each servant and coolie, when equally divided.
Fortunately, we killed four snipe and two doves these were added to our last two tins of provisions, which were 'hotch potch,' and stewed altogether.This made a good dinner.We had now nothing left but our biscuits and groceries.All our hams and preserved meats were gone, and we only had one meal on that day.
Nov.27.--Our horses had eaten nothing but grass for many days; this, however, was excellent, and old Jack looked fat, and was as hardy as ever.We now discharged our Veddah guides, and took on others from Oomanoo.These men told us that we were only four miles from the Batticaloa road, and with great glee we started at break of day, determined to breakfast on arrival at the road.
The old adage of 'Many a slip `twixt the cup and the lip' was here fully exemplified.Four miles! We rode twenty-five miles without drawing the rein once! and at length we then did reach the road; that is to say, a narrow track of grass, which is the track to Batticaloa for which we had been steering during our journey.A native but in this wilderness rendered the place worthy of a name; it is therefore known upon the Government maps as 'Pyeley.'
From this place we were directed on to 'Curhellulai,' a village represented to us as a small London, abounding with every luxury.We obtained a guide and started, as they assured us it was only two miles distant.
After riding three miles through a country of open glades and thick jungle, the same guide who had at first told us it was two miles from 'Pyeley,' now said it was only 'three miles farther on.' We knew these fellows' ideas of distance too well to proceed any farther.We had quitted the Batticaloa track, and we immediately dismounted, unsaddled, and turned the horses loose upon the grass.
Having had only one meal the day before, and no breakfast this morning, we looked forward with impatience to the arrival of the coolies, although I confess I did not expect them, as they were too weak from want of food to travel far.They had only half a meal the day before, and nothing at all the day before that.
We had halted in a grassy glade surrounded by thick jungle.There were numerous fresh tracks of deer and elk, but the animals themselves would not show.
As evening approached, we collected a quantity of dead timber and lighted a good fire, before which we piled the rifles, three and three, about ten feet apart.Across these we laid a pole, and then piled branches from the ground to the pole in a horizontal position.This made a shed to protect us from the dew, and, with our saddles for pillows, we all lay down together and slept soundly till morning.
Nov.28.--We woke hungry, and accordingly tightened our belts by two or three holes.V.Baker had to be in Kandy by the evening of the 30th, and he was now determined to push on.His pony had thrown all his shoes, and had eaten nothing but grass for many days.
I knew our position well, as I had been lost near this spot about two years ago.We were fifty-three miles from Badulla.Nevertheless, V.B.
started off, and arrived in Badulla that evening.On the same pony he pushed on to Newera Ellia, thirty-six miles, the next day; and then taking a fresh horse, he rode into Kandy, forty-seven miles, arriving in good time on the evening of the 30th November.
Having parted with V.B., we saddled and mounted, and, following our guide through a forest-path, we arrived at Curhellulai after a ride of four miles.Nothing could exceed the wretchedness of this place, from which we had been led to expect so much.We could not even procure a grain of rice from the few small huts which composed the village.The headman, who himself looked half-starved, made some cakes of korrakan;but as they appeared to be composed of two parts of sand, one of dirt and one of grain, I preferred a prolonged abstinence to such filth.The abject poverty of the whole of this country is beyond description.
Our coolies arrived at eight A.M., faint and tired; they no longer turned up their noses at korrakan, as they did at Monampitya, but they filled themselves almost to bursting.
