The
church-bell sounds where the elephant trumpeted of yore. The
sunbeam has penetrated where the forest threw its dreary shade,
and a ray of light has shone through the moral darkness of the
spot.
The completion of the church is the grand improvement in Newera
Ellia.
Although Newera Ellia was in the wild state described when first
discovered by Europeans, it is not to be supposed that its
existence was unknown to the Cingalese. The name itself proves
its former importance to the kings of Kandy, as Newera Ellia
signifies "Royal Plains." Kandy is termed by the Cingalese
"Newera," as it was the capital of Ceylon and the residence of
the king.
However wild the country may be, and in many portions unvisited
by Europeans, still every high mountain and every little plain in
this wilderness of forest is not only known to the natives of the
adjacent low country, but has its separate designation. There is
no feature of the country without its name, although the immense
tracts of mountain are totally uninhabited, and the nearest
villages are some ten or twelve miles distant, between two and
three thousand feet below.
There are native paths from village to village across the
mountains, which, although in appearance no more than deer-runs,
have existed for many centuries, and are used by the natives even
to this day. The great range of forest-covered Newera Ellia
mountains divides the two districts of Ouva and Kotmalie, and
these native paths have been formed to connect the two by an
arduous accent upon either side, and a comparatively level cut
across the shoulders of the mountains, through alternate plain
and forest, for some twenty-five miles. These paths would never
be known to Europeans were it not for the distant runs of the
hounds, in following which, after some hours of fatiguing
jungle-work, I have come upon a path. The notches on the
treestems have proved its artificial character, and by following
its course I have learnt the country.
There is not a path, stream, hill, or plain, within many miles of
Newera Ellia, that I do not know intimately, although, when the
character of the country is scanned by a stranger from some
mountain-top, the very act of traversing it appears impossible.
This knowledge has been gained by years of unceasing hunting, and
by perseveringly following up the hounds wherever they have gone.
From sunrise till nightfall I have often ploughed along through
alternate jungles and plains, listening eagerly for the cry of
the hounds, and at length discovering portions of the country
which I had never known to exist.
There is a great pleasure in thus working out the features of a
wild country, especially in an island like Ceylon, which, in
every portion, exhibits traces of former prosperity and immense
population. Even these uninhabited and chilly regions, up to an
elevation of seven thousand feet, are not blank pages in the book
of Nature, but the hand of man is so distinctly traced that the
keen observer can read with tolerable certainty the existence of
a nation long since passed away.
As I before mentioned, I pitched my settlement on the verge of
the highland, at the eastern extremity of the Newera Ellia plain,
where the high road commences a sudden descent toward Badulla,
thirty-three miles distant. This spot, forming, a shallow gap,
was the ancient native entrance to Newera Ellia from that side,
and the Cingalese designation for the locality is interpreted
"the Path of a Thousand Princes." This name assists in the proof
that Newera Ellia was formerly of some great importance. A far
more enticing name gives an interest to the first swampy portion
of the plain, some three hundred paces beyond, viz., "the Valley
of Rubies."
Now, having plainly discovered that Newera Ellia was of some
great importance to the natives, let us consider in what that
value consisted. There are no buildings remaining, no ruins, as
in other parts of Ceylon, but a liquid mine of wealth poured from
these lofty regions. The importance of Newera Ellia lay first in
its supply of water, and, secondly, in its gems.
In all tropical countries the first principle of cultivation is
the supply of water, without which the land would remain barren.
In a rice-growing country like Ceylon, the periodical rains are
insufficient, and the whole system of native agriculture depends
upon irrigation. Accordingly, the mountains being the reservoirs
from which the rivers spring, become of vital importance to the
country.
The principal mountains in Ceylon are Pedrotallagalla, eight
thousand two hundred and eighty feet; Kirigallapotta, seven
thousand nine hundred; Totapella, eight thousand feet; and Adam's
Peak, seven thousand seven hundred; but although their altitude
is so considerable, they do not give the idea of grandeur which
such an altitude would convey. They do not rise abruptly from a
level base, but they are merely the loftiest of a thousand peaks
towering from the highlands of Ceylon.
The greater portion of the highland district may therefore be
compared to one vast mountain; hill piled upon hill, and peak
rising over peak; ravines of immense depth, forming innumerable
conduits for the mountain torrents. Then, at the elevation of
Newera Ellia the heavings of the land appear to have rested, and
gentle undulations, diversified by plains and forests, extend for
some thirty miles. From these comparatively level tracts and
swampy plains the rivers of Ceylon derive their source and the
three loftiest peaks take their base; Pedrotallagalla rising from
the Newera Ellia Plain, "Totapella" and Kirigallapotta from the
Horton Plains.
