the refuge of dispossessed princes, from the settled territory in the neighbourhood of the capital.

Then the road winds through tea, coffee, rubber, cocoa, and, later on, pepper plantations. The red pods of the cocoa hang over the road in clusters, looking exactly like their pictures in familiar advertisements. The workers in the plantations are mostly Tamils, and the women in their red patterned saris, with their large ornamental gold earrings of a cockleshell pattern covering the whole of the extended lobe of the ear, are quite picturesque. Young Ceylon, with slates and copybooks, winds its way to school, clad in small European-made frocks or in nothing at all, as the fancy takes its parents. As the weather had been so uncertain, umbrellas of every sort and shade, adorned with patches of many hues, were frequently carried; those who cannot afford an umbrella in Ceylon fall back on the leaves of the talipot palm, which, even as in the days of Knox's sojourn in the island, are used as shelters from the rain. These leaves are of a V-shape and fold up like a fan. They are really in many ways more convenient than an umbrella, and it is surprising that some enterprising firm has not patented an umbrella modelled on their lines. They can be constantly seen, and are carried by all ages and classes, from the shy child, who uses hers as a screen to hide her face, to the demure monk, starting on a journey, with his folded talipot under one arm, and a small boy carrying a minute satchel, containing all his worldly gear, following him. Like others of the numerous palm tribe, the talipot is made use of in many ways; from its leaves are prepared

the best of the olas, the palm-leaf books used by the monks, which were for centuries the only kind of books known in the island, and on which are written the originals of the famous chronicles, and the sacred suttas, or discourses. The talipot flowers only once after many years, and the supreme effort appears to exhaust it, for from thenceforward it decays. As we emerged from a wooded gorge, we saw on the rising slopes opposite, one of these fine trees rearing itself to a height of fifty feet or more, with a plumed head, sandy-coloured, in the moment of its chief glory.

Before reaching Matalé the road climbs the summit of a range of hills, and then rapidly drops 700 feet to the town. Here the railway line ends, and there is nothing but road traffic beyond. Matalé is a great cattle centre, and droves of the glossy skinned beasts may be met from time to time, dappled with the light and shade as they pass reluctantly along the tree-bordered road.

The town boasts also one of the largest bazaars in the province, and as the car runs through, on either side may be seen the endless rows of openfronted shops, little more than cells or stalls, where native products are thrust aside in favour of piles of cotton goods and tinned stuffs from Europe, and the sewing-machine rivals the native crickets in its noise-making industry.

Straight through Matalé we pass, in at one end and out at the other, and about two miles after leaving the town behind, a narrow turn on the left indicates the way to the rocky monastery called Alu-vihara, where the sacred books of Buddhist Ceylon, transmitted orally from the time of

Mahinda till between 104 B.C. and 76 B.C., were then written down on olas; the text of the Pitakatha in Pali and the commentary, or Attakatha, in Cingalese, to be afterwards translated into Pali by Buddhaghosa, who came from Magadha in A.D. 412; these commentaries of his are among the most important Buddhist books of Ceylon, for the Cingalese version is not now extant. These are the Sacred Books, quite different from the Mahawansa, which is historical. The date of the important work of transcription is noted in the Mahawansa.

The road declines in interest before Dambulla (pronounced Dambool), which is reached at about forty-five miles. The rest-house at the far end of the village is quite good, and late breakfast or lunch can be always obtained. With its screen of flowering pink antigonon growing over a trellis and its bright-coloured crotons in pots, it is a picturesque little place, if it is not-as on the day of my arrival-dressed up in stiff fringes and arches of plaited and pinned palm leaves in honour of the passing through of the government agent of the North Central Province !

As far as Dambulla a sort of mail-coach runs from Matalé, and on this any particularly enterprising person could probably find a seat, but beyond this point only private means of locomotion prevail. A motor-bicycle is admirable, and even an ordinary cycle to an energetic, resourceful person would be very useful, as the road surface is sufficiently good except after heavy rain.

If any one is not already satiated with cavetemples, it is worth while to go up to those of Dambulla, for the ascent is not very terrific, and

the view splendid. The path breaks off about half-way through the village a quarter of a mile back from the rest-house; no guide is

necessary. The ascent lies first over a great slope of black rock, and as we rise the country opens out on all sides, showing wide spaces of jungle. Then we pass up steps under shady avenues of green, broken by the bare twigs of the templetrees, carrying their load of sweet-scented blossoms.

At the top we go through a brick gateway (muragé) and so on to the platform. From here there is a fine panorama, including many conical and oddly lumpy hills, rising abruptly from the sea of jungle even to the far distance. The great sugar-loaf near at hand, completely covered with trees and scrub, is Dahiya Kande, and from one point the odd mushroom-shaped rock of Sigiri, for eighteen years the capital of the kingdom, can be made out far to the north-east.

There are five temples altogether; the first stands detached and contains a recumbent statue of Buddha, forty-seven feet long, cut out of the solid rock. He rests on an ornamental pillow and the soles of the feet are carved with lotus flowers. On the rock face by the door is an inscription recording the virtues of King Nissanka Malla (A.D. 1198), whose statue is in one of the other caves. He is chiefly celebrated for his inscriptions, by which he propagated for the benefit of posterity the fame of his many virtues (see p. 196). These shrines are undoubtedly as ancient as the earliest foundation of the Buddhist religion in Ceylon, but they were brought prominently into notice by King Walagambahu (or Watagemunu),

104 B.C., who fled here to hide from the Tamils, almost immediately after he had succeeded to the throne. He remained in these great caverns where he had taken refuge, for about sixteen years, before he regained his throne and returned to Anuradhapura.

The mingling of Buddhism and Hinduism is very apparent in all these temples. The name of the first, Dewa Raja Vihara, means the "Temple of the Great God," a reference to Vishnu, and a statue of Vishnu in wood stands near the head of the Buddha, and is considered equally sacred, or even more so. The stone doorway is decorated, and near it is a carved cistern. The outside of all the rest of the caves is rendered hideous by a modern brick excrescence, a sort of verandah, of which the monks are exceedingly proud. The interiors are too gloomy to be managed photographically with success. The whole group of monks and neophytes, with the addition of a small boy who had attached himself to me as interpreter, followed me about pointing out the inartistic work that was being done as if it conferred special merit on themselves.

The next temple is large, and is a natural cave, sloping up and outwards. The whole of the roof is covered with fresco paintings, brilliant in gaudy colour, renewed from time to time. The Buddha is carved from the living rock, as is the case also in the succeeding temples, but the seated Buddhas, forming a semicircle round the inner wall behind the shrine, are of painted clay. In this cavern alone there are fifty-eight statues. The most interesting of the fresco paintings are at the back,