No
Boundaries But Mountain Tops And The Horizon; No Fences But The Trunks
Of Decayed Trees Fallen From Old Age; No Game Laws But Strong Legs, Good
Wind, And The Hunting-Knife; No Paths But Those Trodden By The Elk And
Elephant.
Every nook and corner of this wild country is as familiar to
me as my own garden.
There is not a valley that has not seen a burst in
full cry; not a plain that has not seen the greyhounds in full speed
after an elk; and not a deep pool in the river that has not echoed with
a bay that has made the rocks ring again.
To give a person an interest in the sport, the country must be described
minutely. The plain already mentioned as the flat table-land first seen
on arrival, is about five miles in length, and two in breadth in the
widest part. This is tolerably level, with a few gentle undulations, and
is surrounded, on all sides but one, with low, forest-covered slopes.
The low portions of the plains are swamps, from which springs a large
river, the source of the Mahawelli Ganga.
From the plain now described about fifteen others diverge, each
springing from the parent plain, and increasing in extent as they
proceed; these are connected more or less by narrow valleys, and deep
ravines. Through the greater portion of these plains, the river winds
its wild course. In the first a mere brook, it rapidly increases as it
traverses the lower portions of every valley, until it attains a width
of twenty or thirty yards, within a mile of the spot where it is first
discernible as a stream.
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