^1924 087 840 850 SQ(hZj The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924087840850 PREFACE. THE substance of several of the Cliapters in this little book appeared in the Madras Mail, a short time ago. Through the courtesy of the proprietor, Sii' Charles Lawson, I have been allowed, to. reproduce them in this form. I must cl^im thai indulgence of the reader, if he find that each Chapter is more or less complete in itself, with here and there a slight repetition of what has been hinted at before. Every month that passes sees a marked progress in the tea- making and tea-growing, and the process by hand described in Chapter VIII has since been superseded by that of machinery, an account of which I have given in Chapter X. Planters are learning by experience and study something fresh each day ; and a member of another colony, passing through the planting districts the other day, dubbed them as shrewd and hard-headed a set of men as it had ever been his luck to meet. I have told my tale as a planter's wife, and not as a scien- tific agriculturist. But if Wanting in science, my story has at least the merit of truth. I am sure that many other women who have lived in Ceylon could write a very similar tale, if they chose to give the public the benefit of their experience. F. E. P. P. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. A love scene and its consequences — The start for Ceylon— Ar- rival— Journey up-country — Lost in the coffee — A friend in need. CHAPTER II. • LearniVig Tamil— First billet on an ifetate— My journey out, and marriage — My new home — Housekeeping and kitchen — Coffee in '44, '54, '65— The Chetty. CHAPTER III. Launching, out in housekeeping — The fish bill — How it was settled--The coffeek bush — Pruning — "Weeding— Crop gathering — Pulping — The agents — Hypothecated crops. CHAPTER IV. The coolie — His religion and superstitions — Devil-dancing and devil-stones — The " kaddy," or bazaar— The sick coolie — Dress — ' Ceylon in '75— Signs of affluence amongst the planters — Investment of £2,000 in jungle — Munro Grange Estate. CHAPTER V. A dangerous step — Mortgage*— The first cloud — No fruit set — •Leaf disease — Remedies no good — A new hope — Cinchona — A secon- dary mortgage — Delusive hopes extinguished by canker— Partial failure of plants — Fall in prices of bark. CHAPTER YI. Reductions on account of failure of cinchona — Bad times for the planters — Fate of many — Reduction of household expenses — The dairy turned to account — Profitable bakery and poultry yard — No time for idle accomplishments. o^,-; "I don't care what my father thinks. I shall tell him we are en- gaged, and he may think and say what he Ukes," said George valiantly. ThenVe looked at the picotees ; and by and bye I was walking back to the Kectory with my sisters, telling my happy little tale to their delighted ears. George had a very different sort of interview with his father. He meant to go straight t6 the point with his usual hopefu! energy, and when the Colonel was smoking his after-dinner digar in the soft summer twilight of the garden, George sat himself down on the seat by his father and said : " Father, I have engaged mysielf to Edith Travers. I hope you will be kind to her and receive her as a daughter." Colonel Munro looked as if he had ha^ a stroke on the spot — at least so George described it afterwards.. When the Colonel could find speech, he said : .,„; " You infernal young fool !" His son continued to flip the daisies at his feet in an unconcerned manner. He had been called " an infernal young fool" before, once or twice. Seeing that his f Either had nothing more to remark, George said: " She is the nicest girl in the place, and I am a lucky young feUow to have won her." ■ ^ - " What- are you going to marry on ?" asked the Colonel, still thundering. " We havn't talked of marrying yet ; we are only just engaged," said George. The Colonel was so overcome by the boyishness of this speech, that he could only repeat his first remark : " You infernal young fool !" " I suppose I shall get something to do before long," said George. " And when once I have settled to work I shall want a wife. I am not going to knock about in a bachelor's happy-go-lnoky style. Theatres and such like amusements dgn't suit me. I want a quiet home such as ray father has made for himself here; only, of course, on a smaller scale." The Colonel was slightly mollified by the delicate allusion to him- self, and he began in good sober earnest to discuss George's future. " You have lost your chance of the Array, and I can't afford to ' send you to Oxford or Cambridge. It is difficult to know' what line you are to take," said the Colonel. " What about being a doctor P" suggested his son. " A dootor ! Yon ought to have thought of that long ago. Be- sides, if you can't pass for the Army I don't see the good Ol your going in for any more examinations," replied his father. " I suppose the same may be said about engineering ?" said George disqonsolately. " What a nuisance it is that everything has to be gained by head work now-a-days. I should have thought that it would be strength and not brains that would make the good soldier." " So it would be if you entered the ranks, but you don't want to enUst. There would be no marrying on that," said the Colonel with a smile. " Is there nothing where strength helps a man to the fore P" asked G-eorge. " There are the Colonies. A man must use his hands there as well as his head. Would you like to emigrate ?" asked his father. " Yes, why shouldn't I ? Lots of fellows go. out and get on splen- didly," said George, delighted with the suggestion. " If you really want to marry, and the girl does not mind waiting till you can make a home for her, why not try Ceylon ? I hear that there is a very goo(i opening there for young men in oofflee. My old friend Colonel Williams tells me that his son is getting as much as £500 a year looking after an estate. Now look here, my boy," — and the Colonel turned towards his handsome athletic son — " I'll tell you what I'll do. If you honestly mean working, and not tomfooling, I will send you out to the Island. And when you have learnt the language, and have got a berth, I won't be behindhand with some- thing to start you with on your own. account. Only, mind, no tomfooling. You must put your shoulder to the wheel, and work hard if you want to win the little girl who has been donkey enough to say that she will have you." ^ And so, when I was received at the Grange as one of its future daughters, George's fate was sealed. It was settled that he should go out to young Williams and board with him ; and as soon as ever he could gain enough knowledge of the language to work the cooUes, he was to try for a berth as assistant on an estate. - For the next month we were occupied with George's outfit. ' I, as a future member of the family, was allowed to mark his clothes and help in the -mending that went on. He took a modest outfit, such as he would have worn in the summer at home ; and there were also a few cooler garments put in for use in the Ked Sea. The double Terai hat amused us most. In my ignorance I thought the outfitter had sent him two when only one had be^n ordered, and I proposed returning one to the shop. I shall never forget the roar of laughter with which the^ Colonel — an. old ; Indian — received my proposition. In the autumn of 1869 George bade us farewell. It is needless to say how sorrowful we all felt, and yet it was with some sort of pride that I saw my lover go. I smiled through my tears as I remembered that he was facing a new world to make a home for me in a far land. He travelled by P. and O., and crossed Bgyptby rail, as the Canal was not open then. He stayed a day and a night at an hotel in Gralle, and then went on' to seek the new friend with whom he was to make his home for the present The railway took him to Kandy, and from there his journey was to be made by road. He found a pony.in charge of a Tamil horse- keeper waiting for him at the railway station, and there were also four Tamil coolies sent to carry his luggage. Neither the coolies nor the horsekeeper understood a word of English, and Greorge had the greatest difi5culty in making himself understood. The men asked him questions in their unknown tongue, and quarrelled amongst themselves over his Isoxes. At last he called the Station-master, an intelligent SinghaTese who spoke English,' and got him to explain what was wanted. The men then, shouldered their loads ; the one who was smallest, and apparently the weakest, being left to carry the heaviest box of all. George mounted the pony, and, giving the horsekeeper a small bag to carry, he rode to the hotel. There he had some food and enquired of the hotel-keeper how far off his destination was. To his dismay he heard it was thirty miles. The hotel-keeper saw that he was somewhat startled at the distance, and added that there was a Best-house on the road. He would also have a moon, which would be a comfort as it was not pleasant to travel on a strange road in the dark. He paid his modest bill, and started off with the horsekeeper. Kandy lies in a hollow with hills overhanging it, and the road soon became a steady climb. The pony travelled at a shai-p trot at first, gradually lessening its pace as the way became steeper. When two roads met the horsekeeper pointed out the right one. The sun went down in a glory of red and gold. Huge clouds began to gather, and hang about the summits of the higher hills. The air grew keen and sharp, and George began to think that it was time to be at the Rest-house. Both the horsekeep^r and the pony showed signs of fatigue, and night was approaching with a rjipidifcy that was new to the traveller. The moon rose behind a bank of clouds, and the landscape looked weird and strange in the dim clouded light of the night. Presently they arrived at a place where the road branched off, and the horsekeeper,' pointing to one of the paths, seemed to direct George to follow it. The man waited till the pony and its rider had gone about a hundred yards, when, striking down a by-path, he disap- peared into the coffee which adjoined the road. ■ George was surprised at this, but naturally supposed that the man was making a short out to the Eest-house, so he rode on unconcern- edly without troubUng himself about him. After a mil* or so, however, when there was no sign of either the man or the Eest-house, George began to scan theiorizon anxiously ; and tried to peer through the darkness in the hopes of catching sight of one or the other. But there was not a vestige of a human being, or signs of human habitation to be seen onthe dim landscape anywhere. He urged the pony on, keeping a sharp look out ahead for the lights of the Eest-house. The clouds which had steadily gathered overhead began to throw down rain, and after a few warning splashes a heavy shower fell with all the force of a tropical downpour. In two minutes the traveller was wet through. There was no help for it as no possible shelter was within reach or sight. In the middle of this dilemma he came to another branch of the road. The turning off was not in good repair, and looked as though it might be a private road, but George; could hardly see this in the dark. The pony pulled towards it and seemed to know the way, and its rider, not having the least idea which direction was the right one, let the animal have its head. He knew the sagacity of the equine race in finding the right way, and he surmised that the pony would know the road to the Eest-house-; and he also guessed that it would be as anxious to reach its stable for the night as he was to find his bed. On they went, through coffee, or where coffee had been, and pre- sently George found himself in a valley where he and the pony were brought to a standstill by a noisy little torrent rushing along its rooky bed. There was a bridge across it, but it was one of those fragile wire erections which are only safe for pedestrians. A pony would not be able to keep its legs on the swaying wire-hung boards which bounded under each step like springs. It was impossible to ford the stream, as the bed of the river was too rocky. There was 6 nothing to be "one but to turn back, and this George did, the pony apparently being quite content to retrace its steps. George thought that it would be easy enough to find the cart-road again, but in that he was mistaken. A coffee estate is a huge maze of paths which wind and turn till the traveller is confused and mystified, and George was completely lost. The pony's = sagacity had been but a broken reed to lean upon. He stopped to listen for sounds of human beings. The'rain ceased and the sky grew a little lighter, though the moon was still obscured. Not a sound was to be heard but the distant water rushing over the boulders, and in despair he gave the erring pony its head, letting it wander.where it would. The sturdy little animal was quite at home amongst the coffee, and seemed to understand the locomotion of the narrow paths. When it came to the deep narrow drain which is so common on all estates, it gaithered' itself together and carried him safely over with a jerky . little jump. '■ 1j ' They had travelled like this for nearly an hour, at a very glbwt>3^e, when suddenly, right in front of him, George distinguished the welcome sight of a light. It came from a house, and the pony seemed to recognise it as the sign of a possible lodging. It quickened its pace, and, scrambling along at a jog trot, did not stop till it brought its rider up under the creeper-covered porch of a planter's bungalow. The owner was just thinking of retiring to rest, but hearing horse's hoofs he came out to see what traveller was arriving so late. Poor George preseijted a miserable appearance, and was more like a drowned rat than a man. His sleek new store-clothes — as the Americans call them — were sodden to a spongey condition. He was very tired with his long ride, and as hungry as a starved dog. His new friend gave him a hearty welcome, got him into a dry suit of clothes, and sat him down — late as it was — to a good meal.of cold beet, bread, and beer. The pony, little as it deserved it, was safely ^housed in a comfortable stable. The good-natured planter was delighted to meet with some one so lately out from home. He told George that he was still some way off the Rest-house, and that he must not think of going on that night. The horsekeeper had probably found his way there by a short cut, never thinking that the new gentleman would turn off by a private road and so lose his way. The pony had misled its rider from a desire to end its journey. Private roads and by-paths meant a speedy shelter in a friendly stable when its own master rode it, and George had done wrong in trusting to the animal's instinct as he wanted to reach the Eest-house. The two men had a long chat before turninggin, and the new comer's hopes rose as he heard how well coffee was doing on all sides. The next morning George started early, and found thS Rest- hous& without difficulty. The horsekeeper was there, .patiently waiting for. him without a suggestion of anxiety on his face, or apparent concern at the Englishman's non-appearance the evening before.;; Together they jogged on till they reached their destination at midday. This was George Munro's first introduction to the coffee districts of OSylon. CHAPTER II. £% EORGE began to study Tamil, 'F<^ the language of the coolies, as soon as he had settled himself in his new quarters. He also went ahout the estate with Mr. Williams, and picked up a good deal of knowledge , about coffee cultivation. He had t never taken up anything so heartily before, or with such determination to succeed ; for his Engagement seemed to have infused fresh life into his veins, and I was the prize to be won. The out-door life suited him admira- bly, and never once did that terrible disease, home-sickness, that so often comes to the exile, overtake him. In the course of twelve or fourteen weeks he had gained a super- ficial knowledge of Tamil which enabled him, with the help of signs, to communicate with the coolies. Men who were willing to take a subordinate post on an estate were not so common as they subse- ((uoutly became, and George had no difficulty in getting a berth as Assistant-Superintendent. His salary was small, as ho had almost everything toloarnjbut with his free quarters — a pleasant little bungalow, a quarter of a mile away from the Poria Dorai's or Big Master's — he found that he could keep himself without coming upon bis father for an allowance. I could sec, in his letter to me, with what satisfaction he contem- plated his iiulci>ondcnce. There was such a charm in the thought that he earned bis own livelihood, and he talked confidently of the future, and what he would do to make mo happy and comfortable. Botoi'G lii-i first j'ear of Ceylon life was fiiiisliod, lio'^had made snoh progress that he was able to take anotlior berth,' where the ijositioii was more responsible, anil the pay nearly dotjblewhat he had been rcoeivrng. At the eommenoemcnt of 1872, when coffes was giving sueh pro-, mise ofwealth as to make the Island seem like an inexhaustible mine of riches, George was taken on as Superintendent of a litrge estate in a eliarming valley between forty aiftl fifty miles from Kandy. His pay was sufficient to enable him to marry and keep a wife. In those halcyon days no one thought that coffee could fail, and George felt (.himself secure of a living. The only alteration likely to occur in his prospects was one for the better, and he had no hesitation in wj'iting to ask me to go out to liim. The invitation was accepted,; and, after due preparation, I was bidding a tearful farewell to my father and mother, and to tlie happy Uectoi-y liome with all its dear inmates, where I had spent my peaceful life witli my brothers and sisters for the twenty-three years I liad been in the world. It was not considered an extraordinary tiling, even in those days, for a InAy to go out alone to be married"; but it was not quite so common as it has since become, and at any rate J was a heroine in the eyes of the quiet country village where my father ministered and my.futnre husband's father reigned as squire. • After the usual sea-sickness and recovery, the amusements and friendships of a month's travelling on board sliip, I arrived in Ceylon, and was duly met by George and married. We spent three days of honeymoon at Kandy, and then, partly by coach, and partly.by riding, we arrived at the pretty creeper- covered bungalow where I was to make my future home. Somehow, in spite of George's letters and descriptions of his life, I had imagined that I- was going to rough it and lead the life of a bai'.kwood colonist. Never was woman more mistaken. I found a house ready for me as fully furnished as the Rectory I had left, exxept that the furniture was much newer. The bungalow had no upper storey, and was built entirely of wood which had been cut off the estate. The doors were quite beautiful in their way, the panels being of a kind of red satinwood simply varnished. The ceilings ■were formed of overlapping planks of red wood laid in a square and gradually rising in height to the centre point. Oii cold rainy days I used to think the richly-veined wood had a warm comfoi'table look which contrasted favourably with our plastered ceilings of England ; and the i'ed mahogany colour lighted up well in the glow of the bright log fire that burnt on the hearth. The furniture was handsome and solid, and belonged to the estate with the bnngalow. 10 It was fi gneatihelp to young beginners like ourselves having the heavy .furniture fonnd for ui5, as tliese things are never cheap iai Ceylon — unless it Ije in, exceptionally hard times when forced sales take place. Carpenters have generally to be" imported, and are paid higlily compared with rates of wages on thg mainland, fl'hey work slowly, and, thongh the articles may be excellently, well made, they cost a considerable sum by the time they are finished. We had a number of wedding presents which took" the useful form of china or ]ilate for the house ; and Mrs. Munro, George's mother, pre.sonted us with an ample supply of house linen. AVe had therefore very little cx]iense in setting up house, and my: hvisband was able to buy a couple of ponies which we rode. I found,, an efficient staff of Servants in the house, whq all knew their work;3 and, far from roughing it, I was starting in life in a more luxurious manner than had ever been my lot before. One pony had served the Rector and his whole family fit home, but here was a pony for each of us. Three servants had done for the Rectory, including the nursery ; here were more tlian three servants apiece. Luxury never comes amiss to young people, and I found no difficulty in fitting myself to the situation. I rode out-to see my neighbours; I took walks with my husband ; I took up gardeiwng, and often spent nearly the whole day in planting and' weeding, oi*in directing the garden-coolies jn the construction of a new fernery or fresh flower- beds. My life was busy enough; I had been brought up to look on idleness as almost a sin; but it was amusement in 'some' form or other; and there was no real work in it. There was plenty to do in the house when the weather, was too wet to go out. I put up curtains,' hung pictures, arranged flowers, and busied myself over the small details of the ornamentation of my rooms and walls, with all the ^pleasure that the feminine mind takes in such things; and I was very happy. The housekeeping had to bo learnt as something quite new. My servants, mostly men, came fi-om India; and the head boy — or butler, as. he liked to style himself — was a Travauoore man. *He knew his work well, and left little for me to do but to give my oi"dors. He spoke English and understood it, and he took infinite palug to find out what the new mistress wanted, and to get it done for her. I fonnd that there was not much to do. when the house-keeping was learnt, but to express my wishes and fco keep nn eye open. 'l"he ser- vants' ideas and mine on cleanliness did not coincide, and I often found dark corners where the cleansing broom would never have been known had I not pointed them out. 11 I was disappointed iii the kitclieii. At home I had been accus- tomed to frequent the oomfortable kitolien of the old Seotoi'x; and I used to stand over the clean iron stove, stirring stew-pans of jam, or wa tching delicate made dishes which I delighted in preparing for ray father with the help of the mystei'ious " bain-Marie." My kitohenMn CJeylon was a totally different thing, and after two or three visits— during which I was nearly chokied with wood smoke— I gave up attempting to remain atij length of "time in it. It was a collection of primitive open brick hearths, where the wood burnt and sent its smoke to the sooty; roof, to escape as it could through the shingles or tiles. Every morning I just glanced round to see that it was clean, and then left the cook in undisputed possession of his smoky den_ When I wanted to show him any new recipe and hovy to prepare it, I did' it in the verandah at the back of the house; but it was not Until I had to study economy, and take a very inferior cook, that I prepared yie food with niy own hand.; as long as the man could disli up such an excellent dinner I felt I might go my own way, and leave him to reign supreme in his own department. This style of living, though extremely pleasant, cost something ; but in those days money was plentiful and promised to be .''till more so. Once or twice I ventured to. suggest that we should try to save a little, but my Jiusband pooh-poohed the notion. With liini money had always been intended for spending. His father had allowed him a inonthly sum as pocket money from, his childhood, and it had as . regularly been spent; ' He did not see the necessity for acting differ- ently now that the sunx was augmented and drawn from a different source. When I said that that source might fail, and uttered a little platitude about putting by for a rainy day, ray speech was met with derision. There was no rainy day coming, and money would be plentiful to the end — to the time -when we should go home to Eng- land with a fortune. To my practical mind the fortune was chimerical, and a lavish expenditure was unwise and injprndent ; but Georgfe was as much deceived in coffee as his neighbours. Ho thoroughly believed in it. It would grow anywhere and anyhow. You might plant it on tlie hilltop -or in the valley, in the dry soil or the damp, and it would flourish aud bring in a fortune. The idea of screwing and practising little economies under such circumstances was absurd. It was not as if we were without expectations. Colonel Munro would do sorae- thiiig for us sooner or later, and we might jtist as well live comfort- ably like our neighbours. This was the . sum- and substance of George's arguments, and naturally enough they, were ■■ sufficient for me. It was the usual strain of the planters' talk ; my friends 12 echoed my huwbaud's words witliempliasis. ■ History had nothijig to teagh ;to such sanguine temperaments — to men who lived in ; in such a foors Paradise. Had they only unfolded the annals of Ceylon, and read there tjie accounts o£ the coffee planting during the ,, Last thirty years, they wouJd have found facts, which would have 1 shakeiittheir faithy and dashed their extravagant hopes to the ground. Years before their time other men had been filled with the same expectations, only to be most cruelly .disappointed and ruined in the * end. ; / , ' As early as 1844' land was cleared round Kandy and' planted np with coffee. They we're running Scotchmen who made the flcgty venture, and many of them were wise enough to be satls|ied with a run of good luck. They sold out when tliey had made.moderate for- tunes, and returned to their nativeiieather to enjoy them. Less pru- dent or more greedy ones hung on, Imping to add to their gains, and ' by 1854 had marred as well as made their fortunes. • Those same estates had to bo abandoned, and they remained as . records on the face of nature of by-gone ric^hes and disappointed ex- ^ pectations. The iibiqui tons Ian til nil, a shrub of marvellously^iapid = growth, overpowered the uncared-for coffee bushes, and spi-ead over the forsaken acres, finally ousting the coffee and cccupying its place. The once trim and well kept paths almost disappeared in a sea of weeds ; and desolation reigned supreme. Much the same tale was repeated in the next eleven years. Fi'om 18.J4 to 186.J coffee again floui'ished and decayed, and fortuiies were once more made arid lost ; and i-uiiied men left the smiling green shores, cursing the day they had set foot in the Island. Btit even with rccoi'ds like these before them, men believed the flattering tale told them by hope, and relied on the favours of the fickle dame Fortuiie as though she had never played false in the land before. It was hardly to be wondered ^.t that an inexperienced young couple like ourselves should be led away by prospects which were equally deceptive to our older and wiser neighbours. Had it not been for instinctive prudence on my part in those early days— a prndenee instilled by a cai-eful brother from my childhood — we should have clogged ourselves with debt such as would inevitably have over- whelmed us in later times. As it was we did not escape without singeing our wings, But our troubles came through rash specula- tion, and were not the result of extravagant living. The facilities for borrowing in the East are great. Each little vil- lage i« every Oriental conjitry has its money-lender, wliio rivals the Jew in his usui'ious ])i'iiL., cs. He is generally tlio retail shopkeeper, and in C'oylon he supplies tho rice given to the coolies as i-atipiis ; ho filso sells curry-stuffs, and other cooking ingredients to the coolies direct ; nnd he allows his customers to take goods on credit, or advances money till they are a year's income in debt. He requires uo other secwi'ity than the borrower's sign-manual or signature. But the price charged, both on ifidiicy and on tlie outstanding bazaar account, is 'enormous. When the borrower has nothing but his monthly -wage the chetty demands as much as 75 per cent, per annnm-^aiid what is moi'e; he gets it ; for money the Oriental must have when he makes a wedding or a burying. In India the money-lender is called the sbwcar, andhc has been the nndeiiig of many a gallant British officer who has rashly tnado use of him. In Ceylon he goes by the name of " Chotty," and sometimes the unfortunate planter falls into his dutches as well as the fatalistic cooly. Both coolie and planter are to be pitied, although it may be entii'ely through their own folly tha,t they have got into trouble. The chetty battens on the unfortunates, and sucks their life blood dry like a human vampii-e, very often getting his money back more than. doubled-.. It may be said that forewarned is. tore-armed ; but it is fatally easy to fal^ into his toil.-i, even for the intelligent English- man, because tlic chetty is snch a convenience. When cash is scarce and a sxiddeu and une.\'pected payment has to be made, a few lines to the chetty settles, the afl'air without any difficulty for the moment. The planter "writes an order" on him, and the bill-collector takes the order, to the bazaar, when the sight of the planter's signature is talisman enough to open the w'ell-stockcd cash box in the chctty's stuffy little stall, and the money is promptly paid without a moment's Jiesitation. Tile amount is entered iif the money lender's book against' the planter's name as so much advanced to him, and a high rate of in- terest — as much perhaps as 2-5 of 30 per cent — is tacked on from that date. If this is done frequently without squaring the accohnt, tlie .borrower is not long in getting out of his depth ; and I have known cases, where men have stolen away from the country like ciiminals. as the only means of breaking their. bonds. To flee from debt is pcihaps criminal, but in these cases T have not pitied the chetties even though I could not exonerate my feUow-cOuntrymen of blame. The charges, made by the chetties were so exorbitant that ^ I knew the men Jifid not suffered. Their rate of interest had covered the debt with a margin, and all they had lost were their anticipated usurious gains. Not- long after I took np my abode in the counlry, some neigh- bours of ours used to surprise me by the way in w hich they launched out, 14 nnd by tlieii* extravagant style of living. ojf drew tbe same salary as wc d<;d, and j-e^. they seemed to live in . .nucli more liberal way, entertaining, Iccepiug open liouse, rnnning down ^tb; Colombo for races, or sea-breezes, wliCBiever tlieir fancy d&fcitted. I asked George how they managed it and he said, " Brown writes ' orders' on his cliettj." The unfortunate Browns hav^e' long since iiasscd o£E the scenes, wiped out— one might almost say— by thechctty. 15 CHAPTER III. cvjngcoi] diij iiot get into tlio hands VF "^ *'^'^ chetty, but if tlio triitli must bo told, we came vci'y near it. Wlien young pcO[)le begin liouse-keepiug, tliere is often a reticence between tlibm on the; score of money matters. House-keoping is a very prosaic , business, and honeymooning is just as romantic. Tlic happy pair iiiolino towards the latter mood, and shrink from considering common-place ways and means— rupees, annas, and cents — pounds, shillings, and peiice. When I wanted rupees I had^but to ask, and George seemed to filid them with ea.sy readiness ; and as I took up the house-k eejiing jnst as I found it, I naturally concluded that he had tested the capa- bilities of Ifis purse before I had/ appeared on the scenes. I therefore thought that I had nothing, to do but to keep things going in the same groove, and that all would be well. My eyes were opienod liowever, in this way : — One day I was busy working in the garden, and'had quite forgotten to order dinner. I was engrossed in making spme new flower-beds which, as nearly as I could recollect, were to reproduce the Grange garden. George was fully employed on the estate, as a heavy cro]i was jnst being picked, and he had left me with a couple of coolies to do what I liked. When dinner came to the table, and we both sat .down tired and hungry, the meal was simply u. ro|iotitiou of 16 yesterday's diunoi'. The Tamil cook, though an excaUent servant ill maiif rcspoots, ^as conservative to his finger tipa, and if left to liis own devices would send np the same dish day after day — jiistas he makes his own curry — without even varying the seasoning. George rarely gi'iimbled at what I put before him, but I cdit\d see that he was disappointed, though he said very little; and I, Eve-like, was ready to blame' anybody 05 anything but myself. " It is always beef ! beef ! " I exclaiined. " In this, country wei are never able to got any change. I can only buy mnttononce a weok^, and tliore seoms no help for it but to eat the everlasting beof. If I;i could only get fish occasionally T could make a little ohaiige." '^^ " Yow can get fish if you like,". George said. " How ?" I naturally asked. " ]3y writing to Colombo fol'^it. If you order it they can send up the fish in ice to Kandy ; it can come on by coach, and we Oiin run a cooly down to meet it and bring it on here." It sounded easy and enticing, and so, reg.ardlcss of cost, I ordered my fish twice a week, and we delighted in the change of food ; as did also our friends who often dropped in to the eleven o'clock breakfast. ' c This went on for a couple of months, .and thentthe bill came in. When I saw hOvv it had run np I was positively frightened. The ice and the carriage cost more'tlian the fi.sh. I showed it to my husband, who looked at it and made a face over it. "The man will have to wnit;" he remarked, as he handed it back to imo. There was an ominous sound in this speech which startled me. If idloiess was almost a sin, debt wa^ wholly so with me; and in such a matter I had courage to say so. " Then we must do without fish till he is paid," I said, " Not at all," replied my hu.sband. " wo will send him part of hi.nd very. ol'tou tlioy liiiish with a dru.nkcu dcbpiuch wUich is indescribable. 23 I remember one evening, when we were staying ata friend's honse, we went-ont :i{Lto the verandah atabout 10 o'clock, and lookingnorosa a small valley tovvaixls our neighbour's property, we saw a crowd of people in a pataria — pronounced pat'iia — or open meadow, nfbving to and fro by tjie liglit of torches. Faintly on the evening breeze carao the sound of hnojan ', voices raised in excitement. , The first ^jthing sugge.sted to our minds, in spite of our. experience of the Tamil, was an- accident. Some one must have bc(?n drowned in the river that ran through the valley, and they were searching for the body. George and another gentleman started off at once to see what was the matter,' ^""^ when tliey arrived on the spot they found that it was oply a ■' taraasha" — as they call it— of the coolies. They w£re devil-dancing, one of their commonest bits of ritual, and were pro- pitiating an evil spirit by various offerings. The devil was sup- posed to be residing for the time in the body of a wild-looking man who, though frenzied and nearly mad, had yet sense enough to secure the offerings for his own use. These and women dressed in masks were whirling and chanting mider a tree, which was supposed to be the home of the demon when he was not troubling any member of the Community. The whole coriipany was excited with arrack ; and there was a man performing some kind of 'ritual over a black stone, placed on f» pedestal at the foot of the tree, which at times represented the dfevil. These stones are comra,o,n enough in South India, as also is devil-dancing. Sometimes I have seen a row of strange looking figures in front of the swami-house, most of them 'T'epresentiug horses. They are snp. posed to be harnessed and saddled, -ready for use; th«y are modelled in common clay and burnt in a kiln. ■ They are as common in South India as the devil-stones, but the Origin of them is not exactly known. It is generally supposed that when the Mahrattas came down on South India with their mounted soldiers, the people, who were not accustomed to the flight of horses, imagined that their enemies were assisted by the gods; and when an evil deity had to be propitiated the most acceptable offering that Conld be made was a horse ready caparisoned for mounting. A large iron spear is also a frequent accompaniment to tlie swami, and it is anointed with grease in the same w'ay. If you ask the credulous Tamil what the spear is for, he will assure you that the swami comes out at night from his temple, mounts the horse, and goes forth with his spear into the darkness to fight his enemies. I could never make up my mind as to how , much of this nonsense the coolie believed. He is undoubtedly given over to a 2t superstitious and igiioraufc feq-r of the supernatural ; and the doctrine of the existence of a God of love is incomprehensible to his cringing mind in its raw-untutored state. I'he coolie would not be happy without his, " kaddy" or " bazaar.'' This is a collection of small merchants who sell grain and curry- stufEs, oilj sweetmeats, tinware, old clothes and country fruit. Here the women'ehatter aitd gossip, haggle and bargain over a few cents' worth of goods with intense' interest and pleasure, getting into debt over it just as deeply as the shop-man will allow. ,„ The coolies in many respects are very lllse children, and'carry their troubles on the surface, being overwhelmed with noisy grief at a death, and filled with childish exuberant joy at a birth 'or wedding. When they were sick George was accustomed to doctor them himself, unless of course the case was very serious and needed a ^skilled practitioner. Every morning those who wanted medi-' cine, and could walk up to the bungalow from the lines, used bo come to the window of the office, and I saw large doses of castor oil and quinine being dispensed right and left. They have implicit faith in castor oil as a univer.sal remedy for everytlung, and they apply it outwardly as well as inwardly. As a cooly's ill-health may be." traced in nine ca.ses out of ten to unwholesome food of some sort, the castor oil prgves a sovereign medicine. They are, also well aware of the efTicacy of qniatiie in fever, and greedily swallow it wheii.il is gi ven. \ But though they are willing enough to let the Englishman pre- scribe foi" them, they. have, at the same time, recourse to their own mode of ti-eating disease. A child that has over-loaded its little body with green berries is brought in J;he- morning to receive the regulation dose of castor oil ; but in' the evening, in .spite of .the morning's doctoring, it is dressed up in bright coloured jacket and cap and is taken to the swami-house or devil stone ; there it presents a small offering in kind to the idol, and the evil spirit is supposed to be propitiated, sothat he will no longer plague the internal economy of the little one. The castor oil works the cure, but probably the devil gets the credit. It is in the interest of the temple-men to keep' these Superstitions alive in the minds of the people, as they live upon their offerings and fatten on their credulity. Even the more intelligent Tamil Ayahs (nurses) are not above heathen superstitions. On one occasion I was dancing my Baby in the moon-light, and the night being warm, I carried the crowing child out into the garden, thinking that a breath of fresh air might f>, induce sleep. ' I turned my stops towai-ds a tree about thirty yards away, and carried Baby under the waving branches, There 25 was a small devil-stone set np near the trunk to which the gavdencrs Aidfooja nQwand thou vyhen they knew we were away from, home. The Aynh, a good old adherent to the Roman Faith, rushed after me, and, seizing the child from my arms, hurv.ied off as if she had just rescued it from imminent danger. I asked for an explanation, and was told that the tree was not a " good" one, and that the child would have fever if I carried it beneath its foliage I reproached the Ayah for believing in heathen swamies, and *he looked ashamed of herself; but all the same she was not to be persuaded but that the tree was at least uncanny. Another time I fonnd the foolish old woman dressing a small boil on Baby's arm with some pounded green leaves, which she had gathered ofE a. grave by the roadside. The benefit was not to accrue from the nature of the plant, but from the locality where it grew. Fortunately these foolish retfiedies are harmless in themselves, and it there is any danger at allj it lies in the substitution of them for those which are efficacious.' Considering that the cooly is not in his native land, it is surpris- ing to see how contented and happy he is as a rule. Nature intended him for a child of the sun, and in his own dry sunburnt plains he leads an uneventful placid life, where his wants are few and easily suppled. • He plants his paddy and harvests it without having a master even at his -heels' to hurry him through his work in a disciplined thorough .manner. In Ceylon lis not only has to contend with wet and cold, but he has also to work so many hours a day with the regularity of clock work. If he gives way to incli- nation, and rolls himself under a oofEee-bush to doze and dream away tlie best hours of a sunny day, his master, ever watchful, finds liim out, stirs hini np unmercifully with his walking cane, and punishes him by " putting him sick" on the roll — which means that the man will get no pay at all for that day. The cooly is no beauty to look at, and the women are even uglier than the men. The brows are low, the nostrils wide, and the mouth wide and large, though not possessing the hanging lip of the negro. Intellect is not stamped on his countenance ; but there is often a cunning look in the keen black eye which suggests that he is no fool in money matters ; and his glib tongue can reel off lie after lie when it serves his purpose. , As for dress, the coolie is almost independent of such a thing. In his own land he clothes himself in two rags. One is wrapped round his loins and the other is twisted round his head. The climate demands ilothing more. But in Ceylon he is obliged to put on some-. : thing for warmth, and to his two old rags he adds an oidgcoat. 4 26 Never, oil tlie moat festive ocoaBions, is Lis coat a new one. It is of Kuglisb make, and' at one time or other has adorned the soldier or the sailor, the polioeniati or the railway servant.. ' One p| my gnrdenej-s psed to appear on cold mornings in the familiav old nnifovm of a gnard on the G. W. R. His appefirance Avas very liidicrous. His head adorned with a dirty rag twisted turban-wise, his body covered witlfan old coat so evidently made to fit another figure, and his bare black nntrowsered logs, innocent of boots and socks, completed a picture which used to remind ine of a drcssed-up Newfoundland dog at a country fair; I'p to the year 1875 coffee fulfilled the most extravagaiit expecta- tions, and seemed as though it would make tlie toi'tunes of all the ])lanter# in spite of the liberal way in whiotj they spout their ' money. In those days I saw good roads made, and spacious stone builduigs for pulping and stone sheds raised in all directions. Costly nia- diinery was imported, and no expense was'" spared to put things on a first-class footing. Churches and Imndsbme dwelling houses were bni'lt, and the ])lanters, though never neglecting their estates, began to indulge in social gaieties; and they kept opBn house with the hospitality of the fine old English gentlemen whonvere their proga- nitors. Tlie rapidity with which these advances Vei-e made was astonishing; The elk and the elephant, the wild pig and the cheetah ' wore driven back miles and miles, whilst their jungle houses, were felled and cleared, and there was barely cover enough left for the timid little hare. Seveml planters of. the present day can remember seeing the elephant peacefully feeding in his undisturbed pasture. gix)und amongst the primeval forest whore now the bungalow and the coffee, the cooly lines and the cattle shed stabd secure from any i-aidrof big game. The hillsides echo, with the sounds of the bullock, drivers " as the carts wind Slowly along the i-ond, and the elephant blows his trumpet thirty miles away from the place where he was born. . ^ When other |5eople wore launchiiTg out Ave remained stationary. ^ Taking counsel together, wo agreed to put by and not to spend every cent, of the money that came in so freely. AVe jogged along with onr one pony and tlio efficient staff of servants with which we had started; and we contented om-selves with seeing our friends cff to llio Colombo races, and hearing of their gay doings witiioTit joining llieni. Colonel Muin'o had kept himself informed of our doings, and the old man was distinctly* pleased with the way in which my hus- band had Rot on. When ho lieard that wc were actually putting by he wrote ml exceedingly kind letter in which ho offered to give 27 lis the sum of £2,000 to start an estate of oiiv own. , George hailed the offer >Yitli great delight. He said onr fortmies were as good as made, and in his old sanguine way began to ta.lk ot the future when we should vetni-n to England and reign at the Grange. Colo- nel Mnnro did not send the money with this, letter, but expressed himself ready to pay it as soon as my husband was able to find a suitable investment. Above all things he cautioned his son against undue hasto. • In those days, when coffee was at its height, it was not an easy matter to^find an inrestmeut for only £2,000. Those who liad taken up land and got it into profitable order wanted large sums for their estates, and if they desired to sell at all they would not negociato with a riian unless he had something nearer £20,000 to dj^ pose of. We therefore gave up all idea of buying land that was already cleared ; and George, takhig counsel with his friends, determiiied to go in for inngle. . ^ r ■ Five miles from the estate my husband superintended, there was a tract of jungle "which was said to be the most perfect soil that Could be desired. . The young coffee adjoining it, planted by the man who had last taken up virgin land in that part, looked in fine healthy condition. It wa^ tempting to an investor who was in no hurry to see an Immediate return for his money. Geoi-ge took out an old experienced planter to look at the jungle, and, finding that his friend was of the same opinion as^jilmself about its soundness as nu investment, he made a bid for it. Colonel Mnnro was faithful to his word, and in due course sent out the money. George paid £1,.500 for the jungle, and used the remaining £-500 to clear as much ot it a,s he could. When the £2,000 was spent we fell back upon our savings, and got, a part of the estate planted up with young coffee-bushes, bought from a neighbour. Munro Grange — as we called.it, though there was no Grange npon it — was as compact a bit of young coffee as one could want to see anywhere, lying on the sunny slopes of a valley about 4,.5O0 feet . above the sea. It was at a greater altitude than any of the other cleared land about it, but we never doubted for a moment if coffee would grow at that height. Wo supposed, with our neighbours, that there was no limit either to climate or height for the growth of coffee ; and we confidently looked forward to a time when we should be independent of snperintendeiitships, and when we shonld live on our own land. Our friends congratulated us on our new possessions and prophesied fortune. Onr wil]in,2;.cars devoured 28 their words, and we wrote home such glowing accounts to Colonel Miinro, witli such grateful thanks to him for starting us, that even he wasTsronght to believe we were on the highjjroad to riches. My husband worked the estate with the help of a native assistant, who lived in a small bungalow amongst the cofEee?' and who was able to manage the property by himself, with the frequent visits which ray husband paid. I often used to ride over by his side as he walked, and wo looked at our little estate with infinite pride. I remember, fond foolish mother that I was, picturing our boy a rich land„owner inthe future, living a life of ease and plenty, the envy and admiration of jill his poop_ Telations. . True dreams indeed, which faded like niist? before the morning breeze when we had to face reality. ', 1^ {-5S? • 29 ^pn^^|^^5?p"^ ,,1t^55^-f^4;^^ Si&IBB'B^^S CIIArTER V. ^PIEN tilings had jjrogreps- ed so far, we sliould have Ijecn wise to have rested, and to have waited to see how matters would prosper. But the spirit of speculation was abroad, and . the laggard or coward was laughed at. Even common prud- ence was dubbed folly by man}-. My husband's next step was tlic most foolish he ever made. As this little domestic history pro- fesses to be, and is, a faithful and true story of our lives, I must not suppress our follies, but must relate everything, wise or otherwise, that was done. Too impatient to wait, and urged i-ecklessly on by all his friends, George prepared to borrow money, wherewith he could continue his planting, and build the necessary little sheds that v.ould be needed as soon as the crop came on. Thei'e was no difficulty in borrowing in those days if one was prepared to paj' the high percentage. George therefore very easily raised wliat he wanted Ijy a mortgage on the land, and in the perpetration of this unfortunate' deed, he hung a millstone round his neck which has been a burden to both of us ever since. At one time I thought it would swrmp us and take us to the bottom, never to rise again. The money was borrowed at eight per cenr.., this was actually thought moderate— if not cheap. When first I heaixl of it I confess I was horrified. If money had to be borrowed at all, I said, would it not be better to apply to the Colonel ? But George scouted tlie idea. He did not even want the Colonel to know that we were thinking of employing more capital. I 30 " My fiitlior won't niiderstand," said George. " Fie has never spoonlatod in_ Ills life, and would have' a liorror of suol^ h-ansacfcions. If he knows I am thinking of such a tkingij^^hc will probably try to exact a pro n:iise from me that I will never speculate, Una country like tliis it is impossible not to speculate. My coming out liero was a speculati^l). in the very beginning, and as I have begun so I must go on." , . , , I was unaVle to answer siTeh an argament, bat, even thongh I could not answer it, I was eqnally unable to resist sriying what I thought about debt. , , ' - . " It is so wrong to get into delaf; it is next door to committing a crime, and it so soon merges into the crime of swindling." "My^ear," said iGreoi'ge in his loftiest tones, "you are a woman, and yon know nothing about it. This is pui-ely a matter of bjisineg& You aro thinking of debts contracted for personal expenses. Those, I allow, may be called criminal with truth ; but this is legitimate spocnlation, and the lender is as glad to put his money out at a good rate of interest as I am to borrow it." " I cannot see much difference, George, except in the name. We shall be making wealth for ourselves by ri.sking other, people's money, and we have no right to endanger whalfdoes not i)elong to us," I replied. ^ " Then I should like to know what would become of trade if every transaction had to be carried on without risk, and with the ensured .safety of the sum embarked !" exclaimed my husband. " And where would people, who did not wish to employ their capital in trade, find investments for it ?"' Of course I was unable to answer, and felt in truth that I was only a woman. ' The mortgage was for £1,000, and I was told tliat this snm was considered a mere trifle in the speculating world; but in the eyes of the connti-y rector's daughter it was a formidable debt. Howevefl my doubts were quieted, and I forgot my anxieties in my nursery duties even though I had to face the gi-ave fact that thenceforth for' sometime wo should have to find the £80 interest on the mortga^ out of our income.' We had hitherto lived' within our means, and there had been a margin which enabled us to save. Instead of saving the money, it would now go to pay for our debt. It was— as my husband was fond of repeating— only another form of putting-by. George was quite carried a^vny by the hope of the day, and I usoil to see him with hig note-book working it all out in figures. It niodei a lino fortune on pajior, and he -was never tired of doing his dehislVi 31 siii)\s. The note-book used to come out at all times, wlien wo woro lireakfatitiiig or sitting in tbe Verandali, or j)evliapw in tlio niitldlo ol: Dill' walks atnoiig the coffee bushes. 'J'he tale was always the sauiu — the estate would begin to pay in such and such ^ time, 'rhuretuiii would increase each year, and before very long the mortgage in |)art might be paid off. After a few years the land would be 'cleared of all charges upon it and additions might be made, or the whole dis- posed of for ahandsome sum. Such were George's paper calculations, and vei'y plausible tliey sounded,-, deluding wiser people than himself. 1'he £i,000 was spent in clearing, planting aud building, and for a time all went smoothlj". The j^onng coffee grew rapidly into strong aud healtliy plants, and we began to look forward to the tinfc when ili would bear its first crop. But clouds wei-e already beginning to gather, and there were whispers abroad that theegtatcs, for some unaccountable reason, \Yerc not doing quite so well. The bushes on the land my husband superintended were some uL the best grown in -the valley. We had always kept the cattle-sheds full, and manured Jjeavily, as our proprietor was rich and had liberal notions Sf agrionlture. "Land," he .said, "was honest. What you put into it you will get out of it." But his maxim had an " if," aiid it was the " if" of the climate. If the sun aud the sliowers performed their usual alternating routine, the land would respond. But no land can stand against abnormally bad .seasons, and the time came when long continued rain proved the undoing of the crop. It was only the beginning of evils when the coffee blossorn that whitened the bushes as usual dropped off without sotting. The planters could scarcely beheve their eyes when they examined the shrubs and found them bare of fruit. It seemed as though some evil spirit of mischief had been amongst the bushes and stripped off the tiny green berries. Closely following on this came the leaf disease, which spread like {in- epidemic for no apparent reason. Crop after crop came poorer than the last, and the planters suddenly found theiiLselves face to face with a, very serious matter. The estate we were on suffered very severely, and George was at his wits' ends for remedies. It was the more iierplexing to cure because no one could state accurately what was the real cause of the disease. Some said that it was on .aecount of the high manuring which had been done in the few past years. Others thought that 32 clicmical and artificial manures had introduced it. Many put 'it down Qiitirely to the climate; but uoue ociirlcl say at the time where the miscliief I'eally lay. , ' ' ' .■;■-:'' George tried all kinds of remedies. He gave up manuring a cer- taiu diseased bit of land, and he dressed another bit. He uprooted and replanted in another place, and used the knife severely on other bushes which were only slightly diseased. The result was always the same, failure. At first I used to see George go put to his morning's work hope- fully, with an absorbing interest iiilhis diseased bushes, bntgi-adually, as each remedy failed, despair settled on him, and the once pleasant , congenial work on the estate became a dreaded task of disappoint- ment and utter hopelessness. Those who were able to sell out at a slight loss at the very outset, and get away, were deemed lucky men, even though they left ruin behind them for their successors ; but it was only a vei'y few who liurricd away at the first signs of a storm^^ Most people believed that each season would impj-ove, and that it was only necessary J;o hold on a little longer to sec the silver lining to the cloud. Just at this time our young plnnts should havccome into beai-iiig and borne their first crop. Their healthy appeai-anccfhad raised high: hopes, but they escaped with no better hick than the plants arouud thom. In fact, being scarcely fully grown, they suffered more"" severely than the older and tougher bushes. Thus it happened that when we thought to find ourselves the owners of a promising young estate jutit coming into bearing, wo were only encumbered withabitof land that would require a certain outlay to keep it free of weeds ; and attached to it was a millstone ill the shape of a mortgage which hung round our necks as surely ns the albatross on the Ancient Miiriner's. No matter how unprofitable^ tlio estate might be, tjiat £80 interest must be found, in its half yearly payments of £40 each, to the diiy. There was one alternative, and that was to let the mortgagee fore- close and sell us up; but as tlieie was no market for such a com- modity as our diseiiso-strioUon land, thu probability was that the sum ietehcd by the estate would not cover the debt, and then biiiikriipfcy would stare us in the fnce. As long as our siilary cou- tiiiiied it was best to hold on and hope for better days. AVe wore all in dcspiiir for the moment, when suddenly there camo 11. whisper aliroiid of a now hope. The ever-Minguino planter caught' I at it— grll^ll(.d at it iis drowning men catch at straws. Cinchona 33 was to revive our drooprag fortunes. Oiiiolioua was to set us up ngaiii and pull us through tho terrible crisis. In a short tim? it was ill every man's mouth, and nothing was talked of but b.xrlj, and the possibility of producing it for the market. We were not behindhand in the matter, and George rushed into it eagerly. His proprietor was qiiite ready to make the venture on tlie strength of George's representations, which he found were corro- borated in London by all who knew aifything of Ceylon.. My husband bought seed at once, and sowed large nurseries, selling the young plaiits and planting up tho laud as fast as he conld. Being early in the market from his promptness of action, he made a nice little sum over the seedlings, which helped to "pay for the planting. The diseas- ed coffee was i-ooted' out, and no more planted. Cinchona took its place everj'where, and grew with wonderful rapidity on thS tainted land.* , At first there was a great demand for seedlings as men were in a hurry to plant ; but the prices fell as the supply increased till at last it no longer paid to maintain nurseries. Wlien my husband found that cinchona promised so much, he determined to bolster up the, fallen fortunes of Munro Grange with it, if he could possibly raise money enough toljuy plants and put them in. Tliere was Only one way of doinw so, and thatwas by makino' a secondary mortgage on the land. Its value liad risen again to its original price" since the introduction of cinchona, and there was very little difficulty in getting another advance on it at tlie same percen- tage as before. £500 was raised, and our liabilities were increased to £120 a year. We reckoned on being able. to pay it out of our salary. It would need careful living and economy-, but we wei'e youiin- and wanted no luxuries. We were willing to make any sacrifice for our children if we could only save the estate for them ; and it was with renewed hope for the future that we saw the bright green cin- chona plants covering the slopes of the hills. It was an extraordinary thing that, with the recent example of coffee before them, tlie planters should be so sanguine about cinchona. They planted it with the same infatuation as they had put in coffee. They set the tender plants in straight rows, like turnips, over hill and dale, quite regardless of the natural conditions in which it grew in its normal forests. With beating hearts men waited and Watched, hoped and counted confidently on what " next year" should do for them. The note-books came out; and heads, both youllg and old, were bent over delusive figures, which once more brought phantom fortune within seettiino-, 34 grasp,. How I grew to distrust the pencil and paper after I had leanit its cruel deceptions, aud. how I hated that oft repeated sontonoe " next, year," always " nest year," never " this year," always the future, never now ! Two years passed, and those .who were, fortunate enough to have bark for the market realised high prices. Another year, and the supply of bark increased, but prices began to fall. They went down with a startling rapidity that alarmed everyone, and, added to this the cinchona showed evident signs of decay. It was a terrible time for all when the fiat went forth that cinchona was a failure. It seemed like double shipwreck. The ship which was to have rescued; lis from the overwhelming breakers was casting us on to the quick- sands, instead of bringing us safely into port. There the cinchona stood before our eyes telling its own tale. Whichever way the eye turned the; doomed ti-ees rnet the sight. It was not leaf disease this time, nor was there any doubt about its^ oaiise. The wot climate of Ceylon was at the bottom of the mischief, and it was canker that ruined us. Cinchohairef iiseS to grow, without special draijiage. In its native forests of Brazil the dense vegetation that surrounded it absorbed the superfluous moisture ; but in Ceylon, when the'planter warred on the weeds, and took a ]iride in kee])ing his land clean, the cinchona' hiid the full benefit of the copious showers, and they proved too much for it. The moisture produced a cankcr-whieh, in spite of the rapid growth of the tree, spread gradually up the, stem till it killed the plant. Too well we learnt to know the signs of decay. For a year or so the plants looked very green and, healthy. Then suddenly some of theileaves turned scarlet as though Autumn had laid her finger. upon them. A close examination of the stem showed an uneven line of blemish caused by the canker which was extending upwards. Gradually the plants hung out tlieir red flags, dropped their foliage; and died. ;If tliey were of a baikable age they w^ere cut down, and all the sound bark was" peeled off and stored. It was noticed that those trees which were planted on ver\- steep slopes, at the edge of drains, or where landslips occurred, generally survived, and this pointed to a fault in drainage. Therefore when planters put in cinchona a 'Beoond time most of them did so.with better judgment, and the result has been satisfactory. It may be as well to say tliat, though cinchona was such a failure,? it is still grown largely in the Island; and though the market is very!] poor, it is an excellent aid in keeping estates going. The prices of ^bark vary, aud have been incredibly low ; but when once cinchona is 35 put in, it requires no great labour to keep it going, and is oonse- queiiijiy less expensive to cultivate than cofEee. . Wliou ciucliona was first introduced, into the Island, the price of bark was as much as is. 6(/. per lb., and in a short time it fell to Is. 6i|ilk over the estate, to loiter amoijgst the well-grown healthy vegetables in the kitcheii garden. One day a friend was looking round with l^p who was fall of 'admiration- at my courage'in stri|,irig out in a. new line, and in the course oi conversation he asked us why w« did not try pines. He said that one or fcwo men had already talked of it, but nothing was done yet. If we were able to^ehd vegetables down to. the market i, why not pines P We took up his suggestion eagerly, and George threw himself into it heart and soul ; indeed he almost took the matter out of my hands. He' got up some plants of an especially good kind, and another large slice of my pretty garden ' was saci»ficed for sordid wealth. The repi'esentation of the Grange garden beds at home had quite disappeared, and my;flow6rs were reduced to two- narrow strips of bed near the- front veraiidiah. The gi'pund was thoroughly cleared and turned over, and after being liberally maixured the pines were planted. We preservJ^ the greatest secrecy about pur new venture, and, lookiug back upon it, it seems ludicrous to the gi-eatest degree. Whemrisitors caaile they were decoyed away from the part where the pines grew, aind various desigUkS were invented to prevent them from suspecting us of start- ing a new industry. We Wanted a monop'oly of the'pine market, or to be at least a season or two ahead, of other speculators. When great things are at stake, the mind >Qf living, and how absolutely pecessary it was to leave no stone unturned whereby some saving might be effected. We gave up all beer, wine, and spirits, and drank nothing but tea, coffee, and ftltered wr.ter. It did not niatter so much for ourselves as for our friejids, and we felt so unhospi- table arid mean when a friend had ridden over to, see us, and we had nothing better to offer tlian tea or a glass of milk. But beer at a shilling a bottle coiildoob be dispensed freely without its form- ing a considerable item' in the household expenses, and, distasteful as it was to us to have to do it, we determined to keep no liquor in the house. It was an immense saving, but it was the hardest«of all our economies, because it affected our friends as well as ourselves, and it .seemed like saving at their expense. One's duty towards one's neighbour lies very strongly in tlu&exercise of hospitality, especially in the colonies ; and in Ceylon it had been cai-ried to such an extent, that on a very slight acquaintance people would come and hang their ■hats up in one's hall, never thinking of leaving for days Or even weeks. The welcome they got- wfis hearty and genuine, and every- thing in the hdu^e.'was placed at their service. To such an extent was opfli housa kept, that more than once. I have found that people who have been passing have come in and called for food and beer in my absence. Oji my return the butler has told mc that they have been, a,nd has shown me the empty bottles as. a proof. A few words . of apology on the score of being hungry travellers, and assura.nces from me .;that they were welcome, was all that passed between us, on the subject when next I met my friends; the matter waS.passed over as quite in accordance with the customs of the planter. Thus, between strict economy and a little domestic money-grub- bing on my part, we got through two years of very bad times. During this period numbers of people disappeared, fmding it useles,3 to remain in the Island ; and the planting community settled down into a sober thoughtful set of men, whose faces were set with a, determina- tion to cling ^0 the country, and force it to give them a living. All at once a not|on was started that something was 'to be done in .tea. At first the rumour was received with incredulity, and a feeling almost amounting to anger. Men had suffered so terribly from' dis- appointed hope in the case of coffee and cincliona, that when phan- tom Fortune began to hover before them a third time, the twice- deceived planters regarded it as another will-o'-the-wisp come to lure themi to destruction. Even my husband, whom Ihadalway^s 46 reckoned amongst the most hopeful of men, repeived the. new idea, with infinite .cautioijj , '. ■ ■ .,.i For some time pasb^tea had been groTj-rH''^ the Isliind, bat hitherto it had not been looked upon as a posfifil^ mercantile article. The plants yrSv§ mostly China tea, and produced a harsh toagh leaf almost flavourlfeS^ whilst the mode of makipg!', tea was unfenown. When it was talked!0f a,^ a produce, the Iridittiii tea-plant was mentioned as the right one to grow, and Assam seed was sent for. But men pi'o- ceeded with the utmorf care in the ventu#(^ Three, things had been thoroughly studied in by-gone. years: economyr drainage and climate ; so when the planting began, it was carried on with iudgment and at the least possible cost. There was no extravagance over it as there had been over the coffee a,rid cinchona. The tea was frequently pricked fn amongst the coffee-bushes whenthey were thin,, without any preparatory cleaning of the groumd. ;It grew at any altitude, from a few hundred feet above sea level to five thonsandi- In the low country it " flushed" with ^^ter rapidity, but that which' was groWn at a greater height was said to produce a liner flavour- ed article. However tea is even now hardly ont of its infancy in the Island, and it is difficult to state with certainty what it is capable of doing. It W"Bi*^j out wonderful figures on paper, but We have all learnt to distrust paper calculations. «One thing greatly in the favour of its success is that its leaf is wanted ifnd not its fruit, as in the case of coffee. Ceylon is essentially a leaf-producing country, by reason of its humid- climate, and the knowledge of this fact was the foundatioii for whatlittle faith the planter had in it. It was as late as, 1882 that we first heard tea spoken of in good sober earnest, and George began to grow restless and uneaSy with the impatience of the eager hunter, who hears the first note of the horn. He wanted toJiJilce it up at once, but there was the nsaal dif- ficulty in the way: the want of capital. Capitalists at home, after the failure of coffee and cinchona, had no faith in Ceylon, and were very shy of sending their mftney ont. They had been twice bitten and were thrice shy ; and they preferred investments nearer home where they could look, after their money more easily. My husband wrote home to his proprietor, and told him of the new hops. He asked him to make enquiries' at home, as well as to write to tiic planters in Ceylon, and to act on independent information. George explained what he thought might bo done; but even as he wrote, he depreciated his own words, so fearf«l was he of once "hiore misleading his absentee landlord. The responsibility of persuading- him to ^pend more money in the pursuit of a new fancy was too ■ great to take on his own shoulders. The owner of the estate made 47 doe enquiries in London amongst the tea-morohants, and was rajro "than satisfied. I-Ie scyit out money, with directions to his Siiperin- tendent to launch out at onoe and plant up as qniokly as he conld. George was to secure plants if possible, even if he had to import them at oonsidei-able expense, and he was also to buy tea-seed and make extensive iiurseHes. • Once more my husband wasfnlly employed, and there was no time to waste over kitchen-garden fads and fimcies. Those were' left to me, and, I was glad to see the planter once more occupied in his legitimate work. ' ' But whilst our proprietor's land was beginning to grow green ' with tea plants, our own little place stood still fpr want gf funds. Some- of the cinchona was sacrifjced for tea and gold to buyt plants, but we wanted more than a few. acres of the new commodity. The coffee never once paid for its cultivation, and we longed to root it up, but this could not be doiie without money, and we puzzled our brains to find a means-of raising the wind — as George called it. After talking it over morning, noon, and night — I used to wake in the middle of the night sometimes and, begin the subject if I could rouse my husband sufficiently to listen— it was decided that I should write homo and make an urgent appeal to my father.- We could not apply to Colon?l ItfuiiiSO, for he had already behaved so handsomely in giving . us the £2,000 to start with ; and though George would inherit more at his death we felc we could not forestall all that sum, or ask for any portion of it in justice to the other :sqns. My letter was therefore 'sent with the- many misgivings which attend the asking of money from relations, a;nd we anxiou.sly awaited the issue. It came in the shape of the kindest response to my appeal. My father said that George had taken me without a dower, and that he was the more ready and glad to do something for us, His children were all off his hands ; his wants were few, and the money would be of more use whilst we were young enough to speculate with it than lying in the Funds till his death. ','' It was not a large sum that he could spare|u», but he was glad to be able to send £500, and he enclosed a draft for it, > He hoped it would mend our prospects, and he playfully added that he should expect us to keep the Kectory supplied with tea from the moment the first pound was made. George was delighted beyond measure. It' seemed as though a fresh lease of life had been granted to him, and, thongh he guarded ■ against extravagant expectations this time, he would not have been human if hope had not sprung up once more in his heart. • He bought 48 tea-seed and planted extensive nurseries on his own account, and began to prepare the land for the young plants. In che spring of 1883 we found ourselves anxiously soan^iitg th«.long narrow raised beds,. walrJlV^i^' for the tender green shoots as ifily. pushed their way through the Soft soil.- As soon as the'^kJit's where old' enough they were pricked put together with some that were^ihdre forward ^hich we bought;'" Through rain anftsun, wet and dry, they flourished. The evei'- watchful ey6 of thg planter could detect no canker, no ■worm, no disease of aay kind in the sturdy -^Taats. They grew and flourished, spreading strong well-foliaigM branches upwards till in two years' time the bushes had. attained a height of foui-^'feet. "We could scarcely believe our eyes when we saw that no calarnlfcy happened as each month passed by. When the trees were two years old they underwent, a little pruning, and very soon afterwards we bggan to pluck. Properly speaking, the bushes should be allowed to grow longer than two years before they come under the hands of the pluckers, but we were' impatient. We were also to a great extent " ignoranfc' of what might be done with tea. I used to wonder if the plants would die under the plucking, especially as flush succeeded flush , so rapidly and the bushes never had, rest. In India there' is a season when the sap does not rise, and for fourtSen weeks,or more the plant has rest; In Cej-loiv, on the contrary, there is never a moment's rest. The' constant showers and- the warm climate keep ' the sap con,stantly -rising,' and no ;,flooner are the leaves plucked than the plant sends out a f tesfe; supply. Time will yet have to prove if this constant .^^i^eking is feasible, and whether the tea_ bushes will weaken under' it or exhaust the soil prematurely.': r^. The first green leaf that was gathered off our own esta.te was made in the new tea-h;6use which our^djpffetor dii-ected George to build; and it was withgrSat pride that we sent home our first batch of tea— some 50 lbs. — which we could say was grown on our own land. The verdict passed upon it more than satisfied its happy growers, and hints were thrown Out that another 50 lbs. would be very welcome. As, an excuse for this suggestion we were told that Oeylon tea coiild not be bought in the retail shops. Our frien'ds.at home had asked for it, arid even shown some that we had sojit, but the grocers invariably averred that had none in stock and could not get it. The nearest thing to it was Indian tea, wliioh could be procured anywhere in England ; bat Indian tea has a much coarser flavour than our Ceylon production, and when once our friends had tasted the latter, they did not caro to go back to the Indiara I or Chinese.' In one respect the Indian te?i has the advantage over Ceylon, It is stronger, and therefore a nmch more economical tea. The Oej-lon tea is undoubtedly for therioh man, the epicure ; for it must be put into the pot with a liberal haaid if a good infusion is desired. The poor will therefore still stick to their Assam, with its rich brown colour and acrid taste. ; In my next chapter I must describe the tea-house and process of making, and give an account of our pcsition at the present riioment — which is the position of so many of our neighbours who ha^'e gone into tea. 50 CHAPTEl Viri, ffj S sooii;as the Ceylon planters had put in tlieir tea-bnshes they hsid to think of preparing for the making^ of the leaf. They had to contend with pei-fecl ignorance, and had everything to learn; ■whilst throughout it all they were obliged to keep strict economy in view. The con- sequence was that everything was done on a, small scale, and the making, began with such makeshift machinery as an Assani planter would despise. George was one of the first men _np-oountry to build a tea-house; it was of modest dimensions, compjired with the erections of by- gone years for coffee. It was futilished with charcoal furnacps^or firing the tea, racks of trays for withering the leaf, and a strong firm table whiclj I used to covet for my o^n kitchen, as it would have made such an excellent kneading,.table.for my bread. There was a clock in the tea-house and some small china pots for making and tasting, after the process had been completed ; and there was also a thermometer. . When the leaves have been plucked — which I must mentioa has to be done in a particular- way so that the stalk of the leaf is left attached to the, branch — , they are placed on the withering trays, where, they remain till they have lost all their crispuess, and are as limp as a kid glovo. From the withering trays they go to the table, where they are kneaded by coolies, who use the palms of their bauds, and must find it arm-achiug work until they get accustomed to it. They pound away at the leaves till a juice is expressed, and the crushed mass looks like a raw groeii pudding. In Assam tlii^ process is done by machinery ; but this is expensive. The green mass is next placed in baskets to ferment, and it gradually turns 51 to a dull brown. Great oave is needed in timing the fermenta- tion, and it has to, bo checked to the moment to nndergo its third and last process. This is the roasting or firing. It is laid out on fine wire trays, alnd placed dVer the charcoal fnrnaoe, where it remains till it is crisp and black. Again care is needed to see that the tea is neithet burnt or over-roasted. After this the ten may be tasted, and even in so simple a thing there is a certain rule to be observed. Four oi- five teaspoonsful of the leaf are put in a mug and boiling water is poured upon it. The mug is covered over and has to stand exactly five minutes by the clock. The liquid — amounting to about a cup full— is then poured off into another mug and the tea-leaves are closely examined. The experienced tea-maker ought to be able to tell from their appearance whether the processes have been complete ; whether the fermenta- tion was long eiiough, and whether the firing has been equable and sufficient. The liquid is also tasted and the quality of the leaf can be detected through it by an experienced palate. No sugar or cream is added, and the tea rests entirely on its own merits. If the water is not boiling when it is poured upon the tea it can be discovered by an examination of the leaves. It is onlywhen the water boils that the leaf will open out flat to its original shape. If it remains rolled or curled the 'tea-maker ma^ be quite sure that the water only simmered. When the pfticess of tea-making is completed, great care again is necessary in storing the tea, as it is susceptible of the slightest damp. Tin-lined cases are necessary for keeping it, and it should be packed aiid leaded in the dry atmosphere of the tea-house. If it is at all damaged by moist air a second firing will put it right. It would often, greatly improve, our tea in England if we could fire it for ourselves over our kitchen stoves, as the fOgs of November will take all the taste out of it after it has been exposed for a few days ; and too often the unfortunate grocer who has supplied it getsithe blamefor its ta'stelessness. , ;_ The temperature of the tea-house has to be kept considerably higher than the air .outside where we live on the hills ; at first ' George found it very trying to submit to the great .changes. A Severe cold was once or twice the result of coming out of the tea- house and standing about instead of hurrying home to change his clothes. Now, when he knows that he has two or three hours work before him, he pnts on light summer garments with a thick ulster, which can be thrown ofi as soon as he enters the tea-honse and put on again when he comes out. The history of the growth and making of tea brings us up to the present time ; whether we are to stand or fall by it the future, 52 alone can decide. So far tea has been very firm, and every year tha,t passes ^brightens our pfOBpects. Already money is coming ia both for us ai]d for otiT proprietor. At present we sell the green leaf to our more fortunate neighbour who has a-' tea-house on the land that adjoins our own pieee. But the sale of the green leaf, with the pro- ■■■ ceeds of the nursery, amount to no iftconsidterable sum, especially as that sum is clear prqifit, the cinchona paying for the worMng. I hardly daro to look forwara after all the disappointmentB we have had, but I cannot help nourishing a hope in my inmost heart that , better days are in store, and the worst of the storm is weathered- I am looking forward, to a time when I can engage a good English governess for my children. The little people are getting beyond Mary, and I cannot find time amidst all my household duties to teacjf;.; them properly myself. In diie course the two boys must go to a good public school in. England, for, though in all probability, they will become colonists like their father; they must hegin life with the good education that is the essential foundation of the English gentleinail." The climate of the Ceylon hills suits the children admirably.^ The only care needed is about the sun. Although the lieatmay not be apparent, the sun's rays are hnrtfal,,^d.I keep the little ones under cover from eleven in the morning to half-past three or four in the afternoon. ' . . "- c All people who live in Ceylon should'be carefid about the water, and see that it is properly filtered^; Our own drinking water is taken from a hill-streamfthat runs dow'n-an open water-course to the house., = Its source is a spring, high up among the jungle that covers the top of the hill, and the rotting vegetation that falls into the water.before it reaches the cleared, district of the coffee pollutes' it. If not pro- perly filtered it is likely to give dysentery, and, once established, dysentery is most difiBcult to eradicate as it seems to partake of the nature of blood-poisoning and to be absorbed into the system. , An ' open mountain stream is also liable to be contaminated with drainage from cattle-sheds, ooolie-lines, and servants' houses; and I cannot too strongly commend the subject to the consideration of all lady hotiser . keepers who live amongst the coffee. Matters of this kind often fall ' to the share of the woman, for the man has enough to do to see to his own legitimate work, and when that work fails, his brain, is devoted, more to the production and development of n new industry, than,: to the details of sanitation; I have already described how we dabbled in experiments, and we were not singular. The productive powers of the Ceylon climate are i so great that men have been .tempted to try niimbers of things;in the liofios of turning up trumps, I cannot undertake to enumerate the 53 pi-odnots of the low country; I might mention having heard of fortunes being. made with oocoanut and ciimiimon plantatio^na, but these would not grow where coffee flourished and wore useless to the coffee planter. ' ' In one of the.QOffee district^ an enterprising planter tried aloes. He planted. up about fprty acres, and the aloes grew most luxuriantly. But when they were grown their owner was at a loss to know what to do with them. The .machinery for extracting the fibre was too expensive to set iip, and the hand process was still dearer without being so good. The aloes wei'e therefore like weeds, ar-d very ill-weeds they proved indeed to be when the planter wanted to do away with them and put in, tea instead. Some people dabbled in cardamoms, but the climate was toC cold for them in the coflee districts, and they ^did not do well. The market varies Considerably and sometimes the price of cardamoms scarcely covers the working expenses, so that there is not that certainty about a crop that there is about tea. I was often asked questions by my friends at home in their letters that suggested all kinds o£ speculations, " Why don't yon do some- thing with your timber ?" " Have you tried silk P" were two queries put to me. , With regard to the up-country tiiijber of Ceylon there are too very serious drawbacks 'which effectually prevent a,ny money being made over it. One is that the transport'js too expensive. It would have to-be parried by rail or road, and the cost would be enormous. In timber-producing countries it is generally carried by water, the logs floating down the rivers to the sea. But Ceylon has no rivers which could transport wood in this -way from the forests where it is felled. The mountain streams are mere torrents which hurl their waters over huge boulders and find their way to the low country in broken masses of foam^beautiful enough to look at, but of no use for navi- gation. The second drawback is the inferior quality of the wood. It is too soft to be durable, and though some of it serves the planter well enough for his dwelling house, if he wants a beam of extra strength for his bridge or pulping house he imports teak for the purpose. There is a good supply of satinwood and ebony in the low- country to keep the market full, and the timber of the coffee districts actually lies and I'ots where it is felled. It is quite possible that with the introduction of the tea industry timber will have a new value for ' the purpose of making charcoal. The tca-houso -needs a certain quantity for the firing process, and the charcoal-bui-ner will find a ready sale for his manufactures on the spot. 54 Silk has been ti-ied in the Inland, but ;su.ccess has not attended the experiraejats. Experienced hands are required to coHeot and wind the silb, and without this the cocoons are useless. The silkworm assimilates the food provided for it, but cannot always stand the wet. The deleterious effect? of the damp might be qbyiated by proper housing if the winding of the silk ooiildj??, manipulated successfully. It is an industry which should be developed by the Singhalese. In parts of India the natives prosecute it with considerable success. The care of the insects falls to the women, who seem to have a natural liking for tending the worms. They also have the patience to sit and wind the silk, hour by hour in theiri sunny country whilst they dream the time away over their mechanical work. The Sanatarium of Ceylon, ISTewara Jlliya, is- the home of experi- ments. "There may be seen the dairy-farm and the market-garden flourishing with moderate success. Pigg are kept and the lover of pork may find his favourite joints of the indigestible meat as good as any he can get at home. Plums and peaches are amongst the fruits; there is a ready market for them in Newara Bliya itself among the residents and visitors. When the planters were undergoing such a run of ill-luck with the coffee and cinchona, the Newara Bliya dairyman and market-gardener suffered indirectly by the bad debts which were contracted. Men who in better day^ had ordered the goods in good faith found themselves unable to paj^ however much they might havB; wished to do so. The system of giving credit was carried to excess at that time, and large accounts were run up which a sudden reversal of fortune made it impossible to meet. No fortunes have been made in Newara Bliya, though money has been picked up at odd times; but nothing has come of consequence from the many ventures which have heen tried from time to time. All experiments, whether in Ceylon or in any other country, require capital and atten- tion. Without these there can never be a mai-ked success. The coffee and tea-planter has always his own legitimate work, and it is only odd moments that he can give to fads and fancies. Whatever is taken in hand in the way of cultivation must be done through the medium of the cooliej and the coolie, as I have already described, wants the closest supervision to make him carry out his woi-k properly. In our own speculations I became the ooolie-maistry generally. The garden and cowhouse came undei; my direction ; and whilst my husband had his time free for his own planting I saw the ci-afty Tamil through his work, and took care that lie did not shirk it. There was trouble and pleasure connected with it, but the pleasure counterbalanced the trouble ; and though my life was full of anxieties , at that time, I cannot say that it was unhappy. On the contrary I can ^confidently assert that I was a happier woman all thi-ough it than 55 many ladies whose lives arc unruffled by monetary cares. I have fought the battle of life by my husband's side, and the pleasiye with which we both look forward to moderate success is intensified since we have passed through some adversity. I take this to be one of the greatest charms in a colonist's life. He faces the new world single- handed — or at least with only his wife by his side, who doubles his responsibilities. He plucks at Fortune's skirts and almost forces her, by his perseverance and endurance, t» shower down her favours upon hini. And when, after severe rebuffs, ho finally attains something approaching to affluence, he can Idok proudly on his fortune as entirely of his own building. A man who has passed through toil and labour to success has also a wider sympathy to extend to his younger brother who essays to walk in his footsteps ; and as his physical frame is strengthened, and developed by his exertions, so is his moral Bharacter strengthened and his philanthropy developed by the straits of misfortune through which he has passed. However unsuccessful portions of our lives have been, thei'e is no time to which we can point as useless. Every moment had its lesson ; every hour had something to teach. Even at the present time wo are only travelling along the road. To use a familiar expression, we are not out of the wood yet ; but the journeying has become easier and the way seemingly less full of pitfajls. Our l^earts are as full Of hope as when we began life, but hope is tempered by experience. We;- with a great many others, arc too well drilled ,iu the school of adversity to imagine ourselves millionaires in prospective again. Our aspirations go no further than clearing Munro Grange estate of the debt upon it, and bringing it into thorough working order with its tea-housfe and tea-making machinery. Like our neighbours, we look for making our livelihood and not our fortune ; and all castles-in-the-air, concerning a return to the old country to reign as the rich squii-e of some village, find no place in our minds. 56 'j!f*f>^ -■-■-i-V CHAPTER IX. /^ BYLON has been famous for its gems 11' /p from time immemorial. Its rubies and sapphires have a world-wide reputation, and have been deemed worthy of a place in kings' crowns. The pretty coloured gems are the first things which greet the sight of the new arrival in the Island. Even before the traveller has left the ship the jewellers coipe on b«ard with their wares, displaying gorgeous jewellery^ Eings set with rubies, sapphires, oatseyes, moonstqnes, crystals , (sometimes called Ceylon diamonds) and garnets are. offered for sale at high prices, whilst the salesmen declare that the stones are all gennine and have been fonnd in the Island. For the V most part they are glass, and their birth- place is Birmingham or Germany. If the real Ceylon gems are wanted, they must be sought for in the shops of some of the better Singhalese and Mahomedan gem-merchants. ' But even with these people — respectable' as ■ they seem to be — it is necessary to exercise^ judgment and caution, and some knowledge of gems is required in ' choosing good stones. The easiest way for an amateur to tell if a sapphire is good is by holding it up in tho gas-light and looking through it. If there is the faintest ray of pink or purple in tho blue tlie stone is not good. The blue of the sapphii-e should be as pure and intense as the hue. of the Red Sea when ono looks over tho ship's side into its. unfathomable depths. »• When I first arrived in the Island I was filled with a desire to hunt for the gems in their native grounds. There is something 57 fascinating about precious stones to the female mind, and the idea of wearing jewels which one has picked up oneself is not to be resisted, ' By and bye, when we were racking our brains for means of liveli- hood, the gemming fever came over mo so strongly that at last 1 persuaded ray husband to allow me to try my luck, especially as the mode of procedure that I proposed did not require any outlay beyond the wages of a few coolies. • There is a cevtain amount of speculation about gemming which partakes of the nature of a game of chance. Who could tell what we might not find ? We might come upon a large sapphire or ruby which would bring us in a small for- tune. There was always the possibility, though, truth to say, there was very little probability of making such a find. • One day we had gone over to our own little place to tear our hearts out once more by looking at the diseased noffee-bnshes. During our walk amongst the coHee we passed through a small valley which was watered by a mountain stream that joined the ■ river lower down ; and there we suddenly came upon a coolie — who was almost hidden amongst the bushes — busily grubbing in a hole. He scooped the earth out after loosening it with his wooden weeding knife, and closely examined it, evidently searching for gems. The man ought to l^^vebeen weeding, but from the size of the hol#he must have been gemming on his own aCCouut for the last two hours, for there was quite a cartload of soil heaped together. Whether he had found a rnby on the surface of the ground amongst the coffee and so .been tempted to search further for another, or whether he had been a gemmer in days gone by and had instinctively reverted to his old employment, we could not find out. He would neither tell us what he had found nor why he chose that particular spot for his search. It was not an unknown thing for a weeding coolie to find a gem on the surface of the soil, and we were inclined to think that it was so in this case, and that the man had been led by it to search further. However, he had stolen time from his master and had to be puniished ; accordingly George passed the usual sentence on him and put him sick, so it was to be hoped that his gains would cover the fine of his day's wage. This little incident revived the notion of gemming in my mind, and I again urged my husband to have a try at it. I pointed out that it Would only cost the labour of three or four coolies and a Singhalese gem-washer. To my great delight he consented, and we then and there cho§e a spot for the gem-pit to be dug. It was in a flat piece of meadowland, called " patana," through which the river flbwed, spvreading itself into a broad calm stream 8 f 58 before it raced in,, foaming masses over its roeky bed a little lower down the valley. The pataua was forpiedby the alluvial deposits of the' watfer, and the bed of the river had shifted as it gradually silted up. After walking all over the patana my husband fixed on a spot where he thought we might reach the ancient bed of the river at a few feet from the surface. Here the coolies were directed to dig a pit six feet square. They were to go dpwn through the yellow sand and loam till they reached the clay, and if it contained a number of round water-worn pebbles, the native superintendent was told to have several loads of it placed at the river's edge ready for washing. Some days afterwa,rds we went to our gem-pit, taking a Singhalese gem- washer with us. The coolies had' reached the clay at a depth'; of four feet, and a good-sized heap of pebbly soil lay ready for us by the water's side. There was an enemy in the field who bid fair at one time to turn me out, and that was the land-leech. Although the coffee was per- fectly free from the leeches, they swarmed in the grass of the patana; and no sooner did I take my stand, than I saw that I was a common centre for the horrible blood-thirsty creatures. They came along the grass at a great pace, looping their brown bodies as tbey tra- velled like a species of qaterpillar. "When they reached my ankles, they fastened themselves on my flesh, biting through the stocking. A prick like a sharp-poimted needle sticking into me^ told tBat the little bloodsucker had got tight hold, and there was nothing to be done but to Wait till the creature had filled itself to repletion, when it would drop off. I took refuge upon a large flat stohe till we had sent for some quicklime. A little of it sprinkled over the grass where I stood effectually choked off the hungry leeches, and stopped their foraging expeditions. The smallest dust of the lime on their moist bodies shrivelled them up and killed them. Our Singhgilese washer paid no attention to the leeches, but began his work at once. He examined the clay, and pronounced it the right sort. He then filled his basket, shaped like a large shallow basin, and, stepping into the_ running water, began the washing pro- cess. By a dexterous turn of his wrists he gave the basket a circulai' motion in the water ; its contents rolled round and the soil was swept away in muddy streams, leaving the pebbles in the basket. These again were rolled round, and allowed gradually to slip away over the edge into the water. I could hardly, believe at fii'st'bnt that the precious stones went with the pebbles, but my husband assured me that any gems in the basket would be safe at the bottom by reason of their weight. When an incredible quantity of soil had passed through the process of washing, and the pebbles had been re- washed till they were reduced '\ 59 to a mere handful of fine small stones, we were allowed to have the wet glistening mass to examine. They were put on to a clean white oloth ; and the Singhalese looked at them closely, picking out 'the tiny sapphires with an experienced hand; The sapphii'es were like bits of slate and to my uneducated eyes seemed opaque and dull, but by holding them up to the light a faint ray of blue could, be seen through them. We found a few fragments of catseyes looking like opalescent quartz, and some bith of a clear brown stone which the man called "tourmaline." Weals'!) picked out some garnets and moon stone and some white diamond-like scraps that he called " poosparine." He told us that tourmaline and poosparine were used in native jewellery, but were of no great value. A quantity of slaty pieces of stone remained in the basket, looking very like sapphires, and the Singhalese pointed them out to us as dead sapphires. Perhaps a geologist could have tcfld us how nearly related they were to the precious stone. All day long we washed, making a kind of picnic of it, and by the evening we had secured a pickle-bottle full of gems of sorts. They were all small and most of them flamed. The saleable value would not have covered the cost of the coolies' and gem washer's labour. The stones were not good enough, to cut aud set as oma" ments and would only have doue for watchmaking. This was the beginning and ending of my gfemtning fever; and though it came to nothing, it afforded us amusement and diversion at a time when we most needed it. I kept my bottle of gems, and sometimes produced it to show to new comers who enquired about Ceylon's precious stones. I was able to say that they were "off our own property," and George was never tired of poking fun at the "family .iewels'' as he called them. Gemming has not been taken up on a large scale by Europeans, as there are too many drawbacks to contend with. ' The coolies who labour, whether Tamil or Singhalese, cannot be trusted; even with the closest' supervision they manage to secrete the best stones .and steal them. The districts most favourable for gemming arc extremely unhealthy. The heat is great and the climate gives dysentery. This makes it impossible for the European to work side by side with the Oriental, so he is forced to put himself in their hands with the certain consequences of being cheated. I believe gems are to be found in most districts to a certain extent, but there is no money to be made over them, by the European at any rate. Other people besides ourselves have made small ventures to the extent of JRs. 500 or so, biit no one has ever done more than just cover working expenses.' Gempits are sunk in many parts of the t 60 Island at vftrifttts elevations. Those ■which are thorpuchly worked go to a depth of 150 feet or more ; whilst others have been mere surface littempts and have not reached more than gix'or eight feet. Water is the great enemy in such, amateur attempts as my own. If I had desired to excavate more clay, and to a greater depth, I should have needed a pump in my pit. ; The working of the gempits is chiefly in the hands of the Singha- lese, who seem to find a singulat fascination in hunting for precious stones. They may frequently be seen searching among the pebbles of the bed of a stream, es{)ecialiy where the water has worn the rock into holes. If they find anything they keep it a secret, though occasionally a vague rumour comes that some ruby has been dis- covered amongst the coffee, or a catseye in the river-bed. From the persistenlJy of their search I am inclined to think that good stones are picked up in this way with tolerable frequency. If no success attended their labours, the Singhalese would hardly waste time over it. Moonstones are pretty gems, and of late years have been the fashion. They are common enough in places, and I have some by me now that I picked up out of a pit in the jungle when we were out with a party for a picnic. c But if the gems of Ceylon are world-renowned, so tre the pearls; so I must not omit an account of my first and last ventiire in pearl oysters. The oyster banks are on the north coast, and the fishery is a GO'^^rnment monopoly. Before the English worked the oyster banks, they were in the hands of the Dutch, who took them over from the Arabs. The divers are chiefly Moormen and TamiW They sink themselves by means of heavy stones, and carry baskets in which they put the oysters as fast as they can detach them from their bed. Although sharks abound, wonderful to relate, there is little or no danger to the divers. The popular opinion is that their dark skins save them. They remain sixty seconds under water and then, coming up to breathe, they go back to the bottom to continue their work. The oysters are sold by auction on the coast at from Es. 20 to Rs. 35 per 1,000. The revenue derived by the Government from the fisheries varies from Rs. 200,000 to Rs. 600,000 per annum : but occa- sionally they are worked at a dead loss. The traders can-y the oystei's by boat to Colombo, where they retail them on the beach. Crowds of natives awjiit their arrival ready to buy the oysters and try theii- luck. Once, when we wore down at Colombo for a few days, 1 suggested Ik' 61 a speculation in pearls, and we both went to fcHe oyster auction to buy. A lot containing 1,500 of the sMlflsh was knocked 4pwn to us foi' Rs. 30, and 1 already began to imagine myself the owner of handsome set of pearls which I should see taken from the fish myself. But there was one thing I had not taken into consideration. The lovely pearl is the fruit of filthy oorrdption, and amongst corruption it must be sought. At the time of pui-chase the oysters were, to say the least of it, " high." But they were not " high" enough to produce the coveted article. The oysters had yet to lie in the sun, and after being exposed a few hours to its tropical rays they became a horrible mass of putrefaction. J gave one glance at the loathsome mass and inhaled one whiS of the tainted air ; then, burying my nose in my handkerchief, I turned and fled, leaving my better — my much ,better ialf in this case— to deal with the,,oysters. He oouldtll afford to- throw away B,s. 30, and so set himself to the terrible task I had brought upon him in my desire to find the barbaric pearl. There were plenty of coolies who were ready to do the dirty work of examining tlie oysters for payment, and two were hired. They put the decomposed fish into pails and first examined the shells. They found a quantity of seed pearls which were soon picked out, and the shells were then thrown aside. This was clean work compared with what was to. come. The putrid mass offish had next to be manipulated by'flltering it' bit by bit through the fingers of the coolies ; and the pearls were thus discovered and picked out. George told me afterwards that the stench was indescribable. In spite of vigorously smoking the whole time he got the smell into his mouth, and could taste it till he was nearly nauseated. He could not leave the coolies or even stand at a distance, but was obliged to watc-h them,closely or they would have hidden and stolen most of thepearls. , When it was all over the pearls would have just realised the amount paid for the oysters: There was no profit to count as payment for the fatigue of standing out all day in the hot sun, nor to compensate for the intolerable stench endured. On the other hand George's clothes were ruined. They were saturated with the smell of "the putrid oysters ; and when he returned to me I could not bear him near me. I got some carbolic soap- and strong washing soda, and ho scrubbed away at his hands ; but even after a complete change of clothe^,, and a thorough ablution there was still a suspicion of the villainous odour hanging about him. Not for the largest pearl in creation would I ever allow George to make himself in such an objectionable condition again. The Singhalese, and Moormen may fhave uiidisputed possession of the pearl oysters as far as I nm con- cerned; and they do not seem. 'to mind the stench or find the occupation at all an inconvenience to themselves or their friends.. 62 But the Oriental is by birth a thorough-paced gambler, and he finds a certajn excitement in buying the oysters, as there is always the possibility of a big prize. A man has been known to discover a large and valuable pearl among a few oysters for which he has given only thirty or forty cents. It is true that such a thing bappens perhaps only once in that man's lifetime ; but, like the lottery prize, there is always a chance which, however remote, has an irresistible attraction to the gambler. • G3 CHAPTER X. I have descrilied thctrouljlis of our Ceylon life, Ijut I must not leave my lead- ers under the impression that we had no pleasure. Recrea- tion is as necessary for the health of the mind, as exercise is for the body. When ,affa irs looked their blackest, we still met together for amusement, although, too often, our smiles hid heavy and anxious hearts. In some parts of the valley cricket and athletic sports were carried on with great enei'gy, and the ladies gathered round tn look on, and encourage. Some of the planters managed to keep a few hounds, with which they liunted hares amongst the coffee. Otliers flew .at higher game, and, with a mixed pack, hunted the elk — or sambur as it should properly be called. This was far more exciting, and much harder work than the hare-hunting, [t had to be pnrsued in the heart of the primeval forest, whilst the hare-hunting could be carried on amongst the coffee without leaving the estate The men who followed theelkhounds faithfully throughout seldom reached home under a run of twenty miles, and very often it was considerably more. But those who followed the harriers or beagles, stuck to cleared ground, and after endless turns and twists, generally Hnished on an adjoining estate. I frequently went ont on my pony, in the early days, with the har- riers, and trotted in and out among the coffee bushes, scrambling .along the narrow patlis, and occasionally jumping n drain. Now and then I was in at a kill, and managed to catch a glimpse of a few bits of fluff and fur, scattered in the breeze, as the hounds pulled poor Puss down, and devoured her. 64 But undoubtedly, after elephant-shooting, elk-hnnting is .the best sport of Ceylon. I was once invited to an elk-huiit on the Horton Plains, and had the good luck to see a kill. We put up at a Rest house on the plains, and, thoflgh the jonvney there was long and fatigvfing, it was one of the most charming trips 1 have ever taken. The' elk feed during the small hours of the morning, on the patana or grassland, which is like a beautiful park, belted with dense woods of magnificent forest trees. TJie animals are thoroughly surfeited by daybreak, and they seek the shelterof "the forest. It is just as they have- finished their hoavy meal, that it is possible to run them down, and catch them ; and it is necessary to be very early in the field. We therefore received many directions before our good-nights were ^aid, to be up early, so as to start in good time. In th#dark hours of the morning, we were awakened from a deep dreamless sleep, bj a blast from the huntsman's horn. We tumbled out of our warm beds, and made a hasty toilette by lamp-light. The centre room, which served as dining— drawing — andbreakfeistTOom, was bright with a blazing fire ; and there was an ample spread of fried bacon, hot toast,'and fresh coffee on the table. No time, how- ever, was wasted over the food. All was bustle and hurry, and whilst we put on our ulsters and sun-hats, the master of the hounds went out, to bring his pets round from the sheil, where they had been kennelled during the night. • We turned out by the light of a waning crescent moon, and picked our way at a quick walk over the wet grass. When we had gone about a mile, I was sent with an escort of one gentleman and a coolie, to the river bank, to await events. The rest of the party climbed to the crest of the hill, and put the hounds into the jungle at the top. The real business of the day then commenced for the sportsmen, whilst I could only listen and wait. 1 took up my position by the river, with my protector, and sat down on a flat rock. Day- light was coming on with the rapidity of the tropics, and the moon paled before the rising sun. Now and then a spurfowl uttered his hoarse note, or a wanderoo monkey bi'oke the silence with a hideous laugh, that sounded like the self-satisfied chuckle of a mischievous Miss of the woods. We dared not talk much, as we were anxious not to head the game back into the- jungle, so we contented ourselves with watching the landscape growing mellow under the rising sun. The thick glistening foliage of the grand old forest trees became gradually bathed in yellow sunlight. The river pools lost their grey tint, and took warm tints of colour from sky and grassy bank. Nature awoke once more into beauty and life. Half an hour passed, and wo began to get impatient, wondering if, by some unlucky chance, the hounds had followed a scent that led 65 tliem away from, instead of towards us. But a little later there came faintly the sound of distant baying. It grew more distinct each moment, and our eyes fastened with eager expectation* on the jungle. Presently there was crackling of twigs, and a crashing amongst the dry branches of the nilloo, and outburst a beautiful elk. Its coa't was a mouse-grey colour and its mane spread like a fringe round its neck, wliilst its head bore a magnificent pair of horns. It looked every inch a noble beast— a rajah of the jungle, as it stood for a moment and gazed around, scenting danger in the air. Probably its quick eye caught sight of us, even though we crouched low on the rock, for it turned and made off at a quick trot down the valley. We started at once to follow, and, as we did so, two of the fleetest hounds of the pack leaped out of the jungle, and steadily followed down the scent. We ran and scrainbled along as best we could, I nearly breaking my ancles over the tufts of grass, and the deep foot-marks of the elephants in the swampy soil. We crossed the river, and made for a pool where the stream took a foaming leap over a mass of broken rock. The rest of the hounds came baying along the track, followed closely by the sportsmen. Hounds and men forged ahead, whilst I was hurried by njy experienced escort — who seemed to know all the short cuts —to tke pool. As we sighted it we had a magnificent view of the stag. Twice it plunged into the river to escape the bounds, and twice it jumped out, making efforts to get away. Now, thoroughly winded, it hurled itself into the still waters of the pool, to take its final stand against its enemies. Its head was thrown back, and its nostrils were raised, as it took up its position with its back to the waterfall, and waited the onslaught of dogs and men. The first hound that reached it made a snap at its ear ; but the stag struck poor Eover down with its forefoot, and the old dog fell back beneath the water with a yell of pain and disappointment. The diversion caused by the overthrow of Rover gave Juno her opportunity. Swimming quietly round the . stag, she rose in the water suddenly, and before the elk could strike her down, she had fastened on its ear. One of the sportsmen came up, and waded out, to give the finishing stroke. Even with Juno holding it tightly by the ear, the elk was not easy to tackle. As the sportsman approached the stag turned to face him, and so long as it could do this, and keep its eiiemy in front,. it was safe. The rest of the hounds had arrived by this time, and some stood baying furious- ly on the shore, whilst others, swam out towards the sta.g. S ome of the , coolies also arrived with the rest of the sportsmen. Their presence 'confused the stag, and took its attention off the owner of the 66 dangerous knife. All in a moment the enemy had slipped on one side, and laid hold of the brow-antler; and in another moment the Jsnife was plunged behind the shoulder-bone. The stag gave one great uprearing leap, arid then fell back dead in the water. And tliongh I enjoyed the, excitement of the scene, I think my chief feeling was that of pity for the noble animal, that had rnn so bravely for its life, and had lost it.' c But since tea has come to the fore, the. planter has had no time to hnnt, or indulge in much recreation. The tea-bonse claims all his attention, and his employer would be ill-pleased to hear that the factory was left to take care of itself, under a. conductor. , Even as I write, I hear the distant hum of the tea-i-ollers, together with the knocking of the carpenters' hammers, for the builders are not out of the factory yet. The tea-house has been growing wonder- fully of late; and the carpenters, and masons, seem never to have finished their work. At first out- tea was ha;nd-rolIed, in a small room, which contained the withering trays, and the chnlas, or char- coal-firing Stove.s, as well as the rolling table. We employed from six to eight coolies in the shed, and, compared with what we are doing now, the f3,ctory was a mere plaything. But this lasted only a short time. New buildings sprang up which were intended to be only one-storied. Before long, however, it was discovered that double the space was needed, so an Upper story was planned, and built. Then ail engine-shed was ei-eSted, and the old storehouse adjoining ^as fitted up to receive a dessicator, or firing-machine. The trays over the charcoal fires were abandoned for the more speedy process of th6 hot-air machine. The frame of withering ti-ays was set aside for the jute-tats which are. formed by stretching a coarse kind of cloth, from side to side, and from floor to ceiling. The leaf is spread over the -jute in thin layers, 'aftef it has been sifted and weighed, and this part of the factory reminds me of a Lancashire bleaching mill, where the cloth is spread to dry in a hot-air room. But the jute-tats, although so lately introdnced, are likely to give place in their turn, to a withering machine, which by artificial heat, or a chemical process, will wither the loaf at once, and make it ready for the rollei'. Tlio advantage of such a machine is a great saving of time and of space, besides regulating the work; for the time of withering on the tats differs with the weather. Sometimes this causes a press of work "in the tea-house, and necessitates night labour. The process of' tea-making has often been described, but I will nevertheless say a few words of our own particular plan. Bach 67 planter has hia tnathod of working, altliough all must go upon tlio same broad lines. As we make onr own tea we pluck finely. It is less trying to the plants, and we arc quite satisfied with the quantity 'of leaf taken off the bushes. The leaves are the lungs of the plant, and my husband thinks that it Weakens the bush unnecessarily to deprive it of its lower leaf, which iu any case only goes to make a coarse tea. But there is a great diversity of opinio^, on this subject, and men who sell their green leaf geitferally try to get all they can off their plants. There are three rounds of plucking in the month, so the plant only gets ten days' rest ; but it is marvellous to see what it can do in so short a time, . especially if there be a moon. The flush during a waking moon is at least a third more vigorous than when the nights are dark. The tea flushes, or grows leaf, all the year round, and gets no rest e.xcept when it is pruned, which happens every two years. Then it has three months rest. When the leaf comes into the tea-house it is weighed and sifted, as George prefers keeping the fine separate from the coarse, from the veiy beginning. The leaf is then spread on the withering machine. When it is withered to a turn — that is, to the exact consistency of a kid glove — it goes into the rollers, which are worked by a steam engine. ^ Here th* leaf is tossed and rolled, till it becomes .iuicy, and loses all shape.* The time of rolling is inarkod sti-ictly by the clock, and the leaf is taken out of the machine to .the monjent. It is thcu spi'ead in thick layers on shelves andis loft toferment. This is done according to judgment, as climate influences the process»of ferment- ation. After the fermentation George rolls his leaf again, and irame- ..diately after the second rolling, it is fired in the dessicator, where it is spread on trays and passed through successive chambers of hot air. A fan, inside the dessicator, driven by a large flyvyheel, sends the hot air on to the tea, and with this last process the making is finished. Ithas then to be bulked and packed. The bulking is the mi.xing process of each day's making, so as ^o equalise the quality of the shipmant. The tea is spread out on cloth, on the floor, and coolies, walking backwai'ds and forwards,, toss it together in large h^ndfuls. It has to be packed hot. When the boxes are ready with their lead linings, the tea is passed through the dessicator once raorei and put straight into the boxes. ' A coolie stands in ^aoh -box and treads it dawn with his feet. For the benefit of the fastidians let me add that there is a stout cloth between the coolie's feet and the tea. In , this way the tea is not broken and crushed, as it would be under •heavy hydraulic pa-essure. When the boxes.are fnll,'tliey are weighed 68 and soldered down, and nothing remains to be done but to send them off to Oolombo for shipment. The cheats go home to England, and are sold in " the Lane." , I am soi-ry to say that mnch of the delicious fragrant leaf thai we turn out, never reaches the teapots of our coun- trywomen, as pure as we send it. The retail dealer opens the cheSt in his foggy climate and mixes the Ceylon leaf with all kinds of Chinese rubbish. This he sells as " Ceylon mixed." The reason for this is that the British Public likes a cheap article, and Ceylon tea, pure and unadulterated, is not cheap. • The rollers and dessicators, the engine, the jute withering tats, or the withering machine, the sifters, bins, scoops, boxes, lead, &c., &c., have cost a lot of money, to say nothing of the carpenters' and masons' work.. Very frequently the tea-making — which once begun must be continued to the end straight off — lasts all night, and this en- tails a liberal lighting up of the tea-house with good lamps. Clocks are also a necessary part of the factory furniture, as well as good pad- looks. The labour for the tea plucking and making is just double what is 1 equired for the cultivation and gathering in of coffee. Part of the labour ill the fa.ctory must be skilled, and more supervisors or conductors are needed than were wanted for^ coffee. All these , little outgoings seem nothing taken singly, but when added up they form a considerable item against rapid and big returns. A question that is often asked my ' husband, is thi^:— " What will it cost me to put up a factory .''" It is a difficult one to answer, because a mint of money may be spent over bricks and mortar, and machinery. Men who have had some experience in building, and who do not want to make a show, will spend just half what others of an extravagant turn will require. The tendency in the present day is certainly towards the side of economy and caution, especially in all private ventures ; and I notice that a few of the canny ones are biding their time, and qnietly waiting to see how their ueighboura fare, before they invest in expensive factory requisites. The process joi making tea is one that a lady can watch through- out, and consequently she can take great interest in it. I sometimes think that my judgment, as to the exact amount of withering and icrmeiitation that the leaf requires, is as good as my husband's ; and I am sure that a woman can taste tea as well as a man. I am therefore very often in the factory, critically handling the warm crisp little rolls of leaf, as the tray is taken from the dessicator. If tlie withering or the fermentation is insufficient or overdone, the tea is poor luid tasteless when it comes from the teapot. But the deli- cacy of flavour and strength do not depend entirely on the making, they lire partly depfudent on climate, and the altitude at which the . tea is grown. 69 I have endeavoured to give a straightforward little account of our life, with- all its troubles and anxieties, and I could not firiiwii with a happier or more hopeful subject than the tea. Althongh'>it does not open outa golden vista in the fijtui-e, yet it has lightened our lives once more with the hope that all our labour in the Island may not have been" giyen in vain. If I may vent,ure to offer any advice on the strength of what I have seen around me, I should say to young Colonists, " Don't let hope tell too flattering a tale ; and be sure to grasp that fiokl«} dame Portuno very firmly, before you make free with the favours which yon think you have secured from her hands. Take her gifts freely, but live frugally; and, above all things, garner some of your riches in safer investments than the Island has to offer. It is the greatest mistake to put all your eggs in one basket."'