and guide, and many and ingenious were his
contrivances to accommodate his proceedings
to the usages of civilised life ; with which he
believed himself to be intimately acquainted. A
board had been elevated upon four sticks stuck
in the ground, and this, our cook informed us,
was intended for a table ; whilst three chairs
had been obtained from the head-man of the
village for our accommodation—one, as Poonchy
informed us, for each of us, and one to act
as "side-board."

We rested through the heat of the day, and
in the evening resumed our journey. Some
symptoms of an approaching storm caused us
to push on more rapidly than we had done
since our departure from the scene of the
breakfast.

After an unfortunate adventure with an
elephant, by which we lost the oldest of our
coolies, we reached Ratnapoora, the same
evening. From this town the massive base of
the mountain looks more bleak and rugged
than it really is, whilst one would fancy the
cone on the summit to be a pile of regular
masonry; so round and gently-tapering does
it appear at that distance. The poetical
appellation of the town ("the city of diamonds ")
arises from the fact that precious stones are
found all around the mass of primary and
older secondary strata, principally crystalline,
which forms the rugged base of the Peak.
The inhabitants of Ratnapoora derive
considerable profit from the numbers of pilgrims
who annually pass through the town on their
way to the Peak. With their rice-fields upon
the sides of hills, and their fisheries in the
Katany, they seem busy, contented, and
prosperous.

Our further journey was to be accomplished
on foot. Unfortunately, the day after our
arrival in Ratnapoora was a wet day, and
heavy rain prevented us from proceeding far,
and we were, consequently, obliged to put up
for the night in a wretched village, Ginnemalle
by name, where a broken roof and a few bare
poles constituted our hotel.

Nor was the next day's journey likely to
make amends for the discomforts already
endured. No sooner had we set out than we
found ourselves assailed on all sides by one
of the greatest of Cingalese plagues—leeches.
The rain had brought them forth on our
path in immense numbers. They sprung
about with intense life and energy. If a
tree were touched, one or two of them
descended; and in the neighbourhood of one
of the streams which we crossed in the course
of the day, they poured forth in incredible
numbers. Those who have not practically
suffered from them can have no idea of the
extent of the annoyance they caused. No stockings
are sufficient to prevent their penetration.
Before they have gorged themselves, they
are fine as the finest thread, and can
insinuate themselves through almost any cloth,
woollen or cotton. Gaiters tied above the
knee, and worn over the pantaloons, are
the only practicable defence against them,
as far as the legs are concerned. We had
not provided ourselves with these modern
defences ; and our condition, as we struggled
on through the most magnificent scenery,
was truly pitiable. We were assailed from
all sides, and in all quarters, by these
bloodthirsty enemies. They climbed up our
legs, and descended into our necks. Nor,
in the excitement of walking, could the
horrid insects be perceived ; they made
their way through every crevice of our
clothing ; or, failing a crevice, through the
clothing itself. Then, collecting round a
centre, they commenced an attack with
insinuating gentleness. Presently their bodies
distended with our blood. Then, a cold
clammy feeling came over us as they changed
their position, or rolled over and over. Nor
was it wise, when they were discovered, to
pull them off violently, lest inflammation
should ensue.

Behind Pallabatula, the last inhabited
station on the ascent, rises, in dark majesty, the
great and massive group of hills, out of which
the conical summit of the Peak towers grandly
into the sky; and perched upon that summit
was now visible, for the first time, the
picturesque, Chinese-looking temple which the
Buddhists have erected over the sacred
footsteps. Looking round upon the wild mountain
scene which lay on all sides of us, grand
and majestic in its rugged sublimity, one could
not help perceiving that Nature and man had
combined to render the Peak as interesting as
possible—Nature, in the imposing features of
the scene around; and Man, in the feelings
with which he regarded the mysterious
summit, and in the traditions which he attached
to it. All description must fall short of
the extraordinary grandeur of the scene at
Pallabatula. The immense base of the
mountain stretches far away on the one hand,
apparently illimitable in extent; while darkly
and gloomily the side of the mountain,
like a black wall, sinks almost
perpendicularly downwards into a valley far
beneath. On the other hand, variegated ranges
of hills, richly clothed with foliage, stretch
away to the level plain which skirts the
island.

In the Wihare or temple at Pallabatula we
saw the metal cover which the wily priests
put on the sacred footprint during the time
of pilgrimage. It is a glittering ornament,
covered with tinsel and jewels of very
questionable value. The interior of the temple,
where this was exhibited, presented a
strange spectacle. The windows were closed
—a large image of Gotamo Buddha (the
Sacya Muna of the Thibetans) occupied
one end of the otherwise empty
apartment. There was just light enough to
enable us to distinguish it in its gloomy
solitude. Three priests, in their picturesque yellow
robes, stood round the cover of the footstep;
as we gazed on it a stream of light from the