But without technical knowledge he set himself to the task, and succeeded so well that in later years he was put in charge of the public works -roads and bridges-then in the Quartermaster General's Department before the existence of the P.W.D., and under his superintendence the roads in the district now described were made. The Kandy-Dambulla road was laid out in 1831-2, and at Dambulla it met the Colombo-Trincomalee road, so far accomplished, which was then carried forward, and on the day it was completed an Order in Council abolished compulsory labour in the island, and thus freed the natives from an exaction, which, under their own later kings, had become almost as intolerable as the corvée in Egypt. In going to Anuradhapura by road from Colombo some choose the direct way by Kurunegala, but the greater number of people prefer to go via Kandy. It means about thirty miles more but the road is better, and there is an opportunity for seeing Kandy en route. This is preferable even for those who possess their own motors, but the argument is stronger still in the case of those who want to hire a car, because the first part of the journey from Colombo to Kandy is best accomplished by rail, as it involves a heavy climb, and the start by road can be made from Kandy, thus saving mileage. Excellent motors can be hired in either Colombo or Kandy (Walker Sons & Co. Ltd.), at the rate of about £4 (60 rupees) a day, including a competent chauffeur and his keep.

The grand scenery of this part of the railway is too well known to need description, the splen

dours of the rocky heights, clad with rich jungle growth, rising on one side, the ranges of the far hills and deep valleys on the other, spreading out as the train winds along a narrow ledge turning and twisting, are familiar to all who know anything whatever of Ceylon.

As already stated, the distance from Kandy to Anuradhapura is eighty-nine miles. There is a capital road map, published by the P. & O.S.N. Co., showing all the possible roads in the island; this should be obtained before starting.

From Kandy the first part of the way is excellent, and almost all in shade in the early morning. It was the end of December when I left the Queen's Hotel, and the weather, which had been very uncertain, and at times hopelessly wet, cleared up for the day and was as perfect as only Ceylon weather can be. The road winds around, dropping here and there steeply, with sharp curves requiring careful driving. The flowers for which Ceylon is so famous are seen in masses; they include the trumpet-shaped white blossoms of the Datura fastuosa, the little bright terra-cotta blossoms of the ubiquitous lantana, and immense yellow daisies, resembling leopard's bane in all but the foliage.

It gives one a queer sensation to look down on a little patch of cropped green by a waterhole and see tortoises feeding on the grass as rabbits do at home. But this is one of the local touches that add savour to the experience!

About three miles out the mighty River Mahawelliganga is crossed. In old days this formed a barrier, cutting off the hill-country of Rohuna,

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