All
kinds of experiments had been made, and those which succeeded
were persevered in. I discovered that excellent beer might be
made at this elevation (six thousand two hundred feet), and I
accordingly established a small brewery.
The solitary Leicester ram had propagated a numerous family, and
a flock of fat ewes, with their lambs, throve to perfection.
Many handsome young heifers looked very like the emigrant bull in
the face, and claimed their parentage. The fields were green;
the axe no longer sounded in the forests: a good house stood in
the centre of cultivation; a road of two miles in length cut
through the estate, and the whole place looked like an adopted
"home." All the trials and disappointments of the beginning were
passed away, and the real was a picture which I had ideally
contemplated years before. The task was finished.
In the interim, public improvements had not been neglected; an
extremely pretty church had been erected and a public
reading-room established; but, with the exception of one good
house which had been built, private enterprise had lain dormant.
As usual, from January to May, Newera Ellia was overcrowded with
months of visitors, and nearly empty during the other months of
the year.
All Ceylon people dread the wet season at Newera Ellia, which
continues from June to December.
I myself prefer it to what is termed the dry season, at which
time the country is burnt up by drought. There is never more
rain at Newera Ellia than vegetation requires, and not one-fourth
the quantity fills at this elevation, compared to that of the low
country. It may be more continuous, but it is of a lighter
character, and more akin to "Scotch mist." The clear days during
the wet season are far more lovely than the constant glare of the
summer months, and the rays of the sun are not so powerful.
There cannot be a more beautiful sight than the view of sunrise
from the summit of Pedrotallagalla, the highest mountain in
Ceylon, which, rising to the height of 8300 feet, looks down upon
Newera Ellia, some two thousand feet below upon one side, and
upon the interminable depths of countless ravines and valleys at
its base.
There is a feeling approaching the sublime when a solitary man
thus stands upon the highest point of earth, before the dawn of
day, and waits the first rising of the sun. Nothing above him
but the dusky arch of heaven. Nothing on his level but empty
space, - all beneath, deep beneath his feet. From childhood he
has looked to heaven as the dwelling of the Almighty, and he now
stands upon that lofty summit in the silence of utter solitude;
his hand, as he raises it above his head, the highest mark upon
the sea-girt land; his form above all mortals upon this land, the
nearest to his God. Words, till now unthought of, tingle in his
ears: "He went up into a mountain apart to pray." He feels the
spirit which prompted the choice of such a lonely spot, and he
stands instinctively uncovered, as the first ray of light spreads
like a thread of fire across the sky.
And now the distant hill-tops, far below, struggle through the
snowy sheet of mist, like islands in a fairy sea; and far, how
far his eye can scan, where the faint line upon the horizon
marks the ocean! Mountain and valley, hill and plain, with
boundless forest, stretch beneath his feet, far as his sight can
gaze, and the scene, so solemnly beautiful, gradually wakens to
his senses; the birds begin to chirp; the dew-drops fall heavily
from the trees, as the light breeze stirs from an apparent sleep;
a golden tint spreads over the sea of mist below; the rays dart
lightning-like upon the eastern sky; the mighty orb rises in all
the fullness of his majesty, recalling the words of Omnipotence:
"Let there be light!"
The sun is risen! the misty sea below mounts like a snowy wreath
around the hill-tops, and then, like a passing thought, it
vanishes. A glassy clearness of the atmosphere reveals the
magnificent view of Nature, fresh from her sleep; every dewy leaf
gilded by the morning sun, every rock glistening with moisture in
his bright rays, mountain and valley, wood and plain, alike
rejoicing in his beams.
And now, the sun being risen, we gaze from our lofty post upon
Newera Ellia, lying at our feet. We trace the river winding its
silvery course through the plain, and for many miles the
alternate plains and forests joining in succession.
How changed are some features of the landscape within the few
past years, and how wonderful the alteration made by man on the
face of Nature! Comparatively but a few years ago, Newera Ellia
was undiscovered - a secluded plain among the mountaintops,
tenanted by the elk and boar. The wind swept over it, and the
mists hung around the mountains, and the bright summer with its
spotless sky succeeded, but still it was unknown and unseen
except by the native bee-hunter in his rambles for wild honey.
How changed! The road encircles the plain, and carts are busy in
removing the produce of the land. Here, where wild forests
stood, are gardens teeming with English flowers; rosy-faced
children and ruddy countrymen are about the cottage doors;
equestrians of both sexes are galloping round the plain, and the
cry of the hounds is ringing on the mountain-side.
How changed! There is an old tree standing upon a hill, whose
gnarled trunk has been twisted by the winter's wind for many an
age, and so screwed is its old stem that the axe has spared it,
out of pity, when its companions were all swept away and the
forest felled.
