gurgling stream flows on through the
wildest parts of the country; and the traveller
on his horse may ride a good day's
journey without reaching the end and destination
of one of those simple but most useful
aqueducts.

In hilly country the field paddy is often
grown on steep ground cut into narrow terraces,
which rise prettily above each other,
often to a considerable height. In such situations
the plough, small and light though it
be, cannot be used, and the loosening and
turning up of the ground has to be performed
by hand-labour. Weeding, by women and
children, takes place whilst the rice plants
are but a few inches in height; after which
the growth and maturity of the corn becomes
very rapid.

The period which elapses between the
sowing and the harvesting varies according
to the particular kind of rice that may be
under cultivation. From three to five mouths
is the usual time; and, in this way, two harvests
are secured during each year in favourable
situations, though in much of the poor light
soil of the sea-board not more than one crop
can be taken, and then only after manuring,
or the ground must lie fallow for an entire
year. I have known many fine fields, in
elevated positions, where the supply of water
was abundant, yield two full crops every year
in succession without the aid of manure, and
this they had continued to do since the earliest
recollection of that universal patriarch, the
oldest inhabitant.

The harvest-home of Indian farmers is, as
with us, an important operation, though
carried on in a widely different manner.
Here, again, a lucky day must be found; and,
when obtained, the prior cuttings of the ripe
field are carefully set aside for an offering of
thankfulness to Buddha. There is not any
attempt at stacking up the corn in the straw:
it is removed to the threshing-floor as fast as
cut—the said threshing-floor being neither
more nor less than a very dry, smooth, and
hard corner of the nearest meadow. There
the operation of threshing goes on in precisely
the same ancient fashion as the ploughing.
The cattle that, treading out, unmuzzled, the
corn of the Cinghalese cultivation, in the
reign of Queen Victoria, are employed precisely
in the same manner as the cattle
were during the sway of King Cheops of
the Nile; and, for aught we know, may be
lineal descendants of the same cattle. It is
quite certain that the agricultural societies
eastward of the Pyramids have accomplished
very little in the improvement of farming
implements and processes during the last few
thousand years.

When trodden out by the hoofs of cattle,
the grain is winnowed from the chaff by
simply letting it fall from a light shallow
basket raised to some height from the ground.
The wind blows the chaff away whilst the
corn falls in a heap below. It is then stored
in dry rooms, or buried in pits below the
ground, under cover, till required. In that
state it is called "paddy," having a rough
husk, which must be removed before it becomes
rice, and is fit for cooking. This removal
is accomplished by simply pounding
the grain in a large wooden mortar, after
which it is again winnowed and transformed
into edible rice.

It was during one of my long rides through
an exclusive rice producing district of the
interior of Ceylon that I encountered a most
unexpected and remarkable object—a white
coolie. I was walking my horse towards the
nearest halting-place through a beautifully
wooded valley intersected with running
streams, rice-grounds, and bamboo topes,
when, at some distance below me, I perceived,
staggering along under a load of ripe plantains,
swung in the ordinary native manner
by means of a "pingo," or yoke across the
shoulders, a white man dressed in the common
garb of the country, and in every way
resembling a native, save in the colour of his
skin. He was soon lost in the distance, and
I rode on pondering over the strange sight.
Half-an-hour took me to a little plateau at
the extremity of one of the many gorges in
that wild country, in the midst of which was
one of the prettiest little cottages and gardens
it would be possible to see in any country.
Half hidden amidst waving, green clusters of
plantains and pomegranates, the little white
cottage might have belonged to some Cinghalese
Paul and Virginia, some oriental
Savoyards, so sweetly picturesque was it,
amidst that savage but fertile country.

I made my way to it; and, pulling up at
the little verandah in front for a cup of
water, was startled at being addressed by a
young English woman clad in the loose,
flowing robe of the Kandyan females. There
were one or two dusky-white, sunburnt little
children gambolling about under some shady
bread-fruit trees in the rear of the house,
playing with a motley assemblage of young
pigs, kids, dogs, and no end of long-legged,
tail-less fowls. My new acquaintance was
very reserved, and apologised for the absence
of her husband, who, she said, had gone to
the next bazaar for supplies. A good draught
of milk satisfied my thirst; and, flinging a
handful of small coin amongst the children
and farmyard inhabitants, I bade the mother
good morning, and rode on my way pondering
how it could be that these fellow countrymen
were thus singularly placed amongst the
Cinghalese peasantry of the land.

I learnt from the keeper of the nearest
rest-house for travellers, the little history
of this couple; and, touching as it was, I
felt glad that I had not put any questions
on the subject to the young woman at
the cottage- the real heroine of the brief
story. She had been engaged to her present
husband for some years before he came
out to Ceylon as a coffee planter. He was