The
fragrance of mignonettes, and a hundred flowers that recall England,
fills the air. Green fields of grass and clover, neatly fenced, surround
a comfortable house and grounds. Well-fed cattle of the choicest breeds,
and English sheep, are grazing in the paddocks. Well-made roads and
gravel walks run through the estate. But a few years past, and this was
all wilderness.
Dense forest reigned where now not even the stump of a tree is standing;
the wind howled over hill and valley, the dank moss hung from the
scathed branches, the deep morass filled the hollows; but all is changed
by the hand of civilisation and industry. The dense forests and rough
plains, which still form the boundaries of the cultivated land, only add
to the beauty. The monkeys and parrots are even now chattering among the
branches, and occasionally the elephant in his nightly wanderings
trespasses upon the fields, unconscious of the oasis within his
territory of savage nature.
The still, starlight night is awakened by the harsh bark of the elk; the
lofty mountains, grey with the silvery moonlight, echo back the sound;
and the wakeful hounds answer the well-known cry by a prolonged and
savage yell.
This is 'Newera Ellia,' the sanatorium of Ceylon, the most perfect
climate of the world. It now boasts of a handsome church, a public
reading-room, a large hotel, the barracks, and about twenty private
residences.
