FROM CEYLON TO INDIA.—A MARINE ENTERTAINMENT.—THE STORY OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.
There are several ways of going from Ceylon to India. Doctor Bronson and the youths took them all into consideration before making their final decision, and settling upon their route of travel.
TEMPLE AND TREES AT TUTICORIN.
Once a week a steamer goes from Colombo to Tuticorin, which is at the southern end of the great peninsula of Hindostan. From Tuticorin there is a railway which connects with the whole railway system of India; few people are aware of the extent to which railway construction has been carried in the land of the Bramins, and it is not surprising that the boys listened with something akin to astonishment, as the Doctor leaned back in his chair and grew eloquent over what the builders of the iron road had accomplished in this part of Asia.
"At the time of the Mutiny, in 1857," said the Doctor, "there were barely 200 miles of completed railway in all India. From Calcutta northward the line was finished to Ranegunge, 120 miles; and there were about seventy miles in operation from Bombay toward Poonah. At present there are nearly if not quite 7000 miles of iron road in India, and every year sees a considerable addition to the grand total of miles. By zigzagging across the country somewhat, it is possible to travel from Tuticorin in the south to Lahore and Mooltan near the northern frontier. The railways are of great importance in a military point of view, and if they had existed in 1857 as they exist now, the Mutiny would have been next to impossible.
"Let me give you a general idea of the entire system as it now is, and for convenience we will start from Calcutta, the capital. The general direction of the line from Calcutta is north-westerly. Benares is 476 miles away, Allahabad nearly a hundred miles farther, and Cawnpore another hundred. Delhi is 955 miles from Calcutta, and when we step from the train at Sher-shah, on the banks of the Indus, eleven miles from Mooltan, we are 1510 miles from the capital city. From Sher-shah we can proceed by steamboat on the Indus to Kotree in Scinde, whence another railway will carry us to Kurrachee (Kur-rach-ee), near the entrance of the Persian Gulf. There are several branches intended as feeders to the main line, and also as military conveniences—notably, one from Benares to Lucknow, and another from Cawnpore to Lucknow. From Allahabad to Bombay there is a well-built line, and there is a line from Delhi and Agra through Central India which enables the traveller to reach Bombay by a different route from the one just mentioned.
"From Bombay there is a line northward to Baroda, and southward to Madras and Tuticorin, and each of these lines has several feeders that you can see on the maps. The whole net-work is well devised, and has cost a vast amount of money, but it is worth all it cost. A writer, who recently travelled through this country, has summed the matter up as follows:
"'From the foot of the Himalayas and the Hindoo-Koosh, the iron horse has a pathway to Cape Comorin and the tepid waters of the tropic seas. In the north he drinks the waters from the melted snows of the loftiest mountains on the globe; in the south he sniffs the spice-laden breezes from palm-clad Ceylon, and sees the pole-star hugging the horizon and anticipating the advent of the Southern Cross.'
"We will not go by way of Tuticorin," Doctor Bronson continued, "as we shall have quite enough of travelling by rail without making the long journey; and, besides, it would carry us to Bombay if we stuck to the railway, and we want to keep that city for our point of departure from India. We can, if we like, go by rail from Tuticorin to Madras, and thence to Calcutta by steamer; the objection to this course is that there are not many things of importance to see on the way, and the journey will be fatiguing.
"For the same reason that we do not wish to go all the way by rail, we will not take the weekly steamer from Colombo to Bombay, as it brings us to that city before we have seen anything of Northern India.
"After considering all the routes, I think we had best take the weekly steamer from Colombo to Calcutta; it stops at nearly a dozen points on the coast, and gives us an opportunity to see a great deal that we might otherwise miss. It travels generally at night, and stops during the day at a port, and thus we can economize our time to decided advantage. The steamer leaves this afternoon, and we can go leisurely on board after lunch."
The recommendations of the Doctor were immediately accepted by Frank and Fred, and they completed their preparations for departure by packing and securing their trunks. At the appointed hour the baggage was piled into a cart drawn by a couple of bullocks, and went to the landing-place in charge of the porter of the hotel. The distance being slight, and the afternoon cool, the party followed on foot.
"I declare," said Frank, as he watched the retreating cart with the baggage, "I've forgotten something!"
"What is that?" Fred asked, in astonishment; "I thought it was one of our rules never to forget anything?"
"I haven't forgotten anything of our property, if that's what you mean," Frank responded; "but it's something I have intended to write about."
"That's no serious consequence," said the Doctor, "as you will have an abundance of time on the steamer. What is it?"
"It's the curious vehicles they have here in Ceylon, drawn by bullocks, and by bullocks that trot, too. I'll write it out when I get on the ship, and make sure I don't forget any more."
They had no trouble in getting to the steamer, though they narrowly escaped a drenching from a wave that broke over the bows of the boat that took them across the harbor. As soon as they were on board Frank went below, and devoted himself to the production of the following:
A FASHIONABLE "HACKERY."
"They have carriages for hire in the cities of Ceylon which are called hackeries, and are drawn by hump-backed bullocks or sacred oxen. They are almost entirely used by natives, and it is very rarely that you see a European riding in one of them. These animals can travel thirty miles a day easily, and can trot a mile or so as fast as an ordinary horse, but you generally see them going at a walk. A nice hackery has a roof over the top in a sort of dome shape, and there are cushions on which the passengers sit. Frequently you see whole families of five or six persons crowded into one of these carriages, and the bullocks trotting smartly along as though they enjoyed their work. Then they have carts for carrying baggage and similar work; in a case where a man in New York would send for a dray, he sends for a bullock-cart in Colombo or Kandy.
"Doctor Bronson says these animals are the sacred oxen of India and the East. Their native name is zebu, and their scientific one Bos Indicus; they are distinguished by a hump on the shoulders, and are much smaller than the oxen of America. In India they are worshipped, and they run around the temples and do pretty much as they please; they give a great deal of trouble to the dealers in grain, as they have no manners at all, and help themselves to anything they want. The natives consider it a sin to kill them, but their sacred character does not save them from doing a great deal of hard work.
"There is a story that at one time the sacred bulls of the temples of Benares, in India, extended their wanderings into the part of the city where the English live; there was a slaughter-house there where the foreigners were provided with beef, and the bulls discovered that some of their number disappeared mysteriously whenever they went near the slaughter-house. What became of them was never known; but suddenly the bulls gave up going there, or even into the English quarter, and sometimes, when a young bull ventured too far, one of the old ones on watch would bellow and call him back. I cannot say if this is really so, but give the story as I heard it.
EASTERN MODE OF FEEDING OXEN.
"In many of the stables where these animals are kept, the stall is arranged so that when the occupant is feeding he must place his fore-feet considerably higher than his hind ones. The natives believe that this process causes the food to digest more readily than if all the feet of the ox are on a level."
When Frank had finished, it was Fred's turn to think of something that had been forgotten.
"It will never do," said he, "to leave our accounts of Ceylon without saying something about Adam's Bridge. As you have looked after the oxen, it is my duty to attend to the story of the bridge."
And so, after collecting from the books they had with them and from personal information, Fred wrote as follows:
"Ceylon is fifty-three miles from India, but is almost connected with it by some islands and a reef that together form what is called Adam's Bridge. There are two islands, Ramisseram and Manaar, and the rest of the bridge is a reef of sand and sandstone. There are several openings, the largest being forty yards wide and ten feet deep; the Government has proposed to deepen it so as to allow the passage of large ships, and will probably do so one of these days. It is certain to cost a great deal of money, and that is why it has been postponed.
"The Hindoo legends say the bridge was made by one of their gods, assisted by an army of monkeys, who built it in a single night. The Bramins also claim it, and so do the Mohammedan Arabs, who gave it the name of Adam's Bridge, and say that Adam came from India and crossed on this bridge on his way to heaven, which he reached by jumping from the peak which bears his name. Some of the old accounts declare that Ceylon was once joined to the Continent, and several English engineers and geologists who have examined the formation of the land say this is quite probable.
PART OF A HINDOO PAGODA.
"On the island of Ramisseram is a large Hindoo pagoda, where a great many pilgrims go at certain seasons of the year. There are also two very old tombs which the Mohammedans say belong to Cain and Abel. Some writers have thought the Garden of Eden was in Ceylon, and the Arabs say that when the children of Adam were scattered they went north toward India, and Cain and Abel were buried in this island."
The steamer sailed about sunset, and on the next morning she anchored in the harbor of Point de Galle. The day was passed in pleasant drives and walks around the place, and in closing up letters which would be taken a couple of days later by the weekly steamer that touches there on her way from the Far East to Europe. At sunset the steamer sailed again, and turned around the coast of Ceylon to head northward into the Bay of Bengal, and the next day she steamed along the coast with the shore nearly always in sight, her destination being Negapatam, on the coast of India.
There were about a dozen passengers in the cabin of the steamer; they included, besides our friends, two government officials with their wives, a member of the clergy of the Church of England, two planters going from Ceylon to Madras on business, and a little group of three strangers who could not be made out at a first glance. It soon became known that they were actors who had been playing in the cities of Ceylon, and were now on their way to India, where they hoped to make a profitable tour of the country.
On the second evening of the voyage the actors entertained the rest of the passengers with songs and recitations till it was time to put out the lights. The next morning Frank and Fred were in consultation with Doctor Bronson relative to a scheme they had concocted for contributing to the fund of amusement. The Doctor gave his assent, with the remark that they had been working and studying very diligently for some time, and a little recreation would be quite in order. "Besides," said he, "it is quite proper when at sea for all to contribute what they can conveniently to the entertainment of their fellow-passengers; they are doubly rewarded for the effort, as they secure occupation for themselves, and thus pass the voyage agreeably, and at the same time add to the happiness of those who are on board with them."
For a couple of days very little was seen on deck of the two youths; the weather was of the temperature that kept the cabins comfortable, and enabled them to conduct the work on which they were so mysteriously engaged. The steamer stopped at Negapatam for a couple of hours, but the captain said there was nothing to be seen on shore, and, therefore, the labor was not interrupted. Then she steamed on to Pondicherry, and in the evening, when dinner was over, a notice was circulated to the effect that there would be a grand exhibition in the cabin, to which the captain and passengers were invited. "It will be," said the bill, "a panorama of the wonderful adventures of Robinson Crusoe, in prose and poetry, and also in pictures prepared at vast expense by two celebrated artists who have engaged passage on this ship regardless of expense."
At the appointed time the passengers assembled, and the boys stepped before the curtain—a table-cover borrowed from the steward. Frank was the speaker of the occasion, while Fred had charge of the panorama: the latter consisted of a series of sketches in heavy crayon, with occasional touches from a box of water-colors to heighten the effect. As soon as quiet had been secured, Frank began:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,—It is hardly to be supposed there is any one in this vast audience who has not read the story of Robinson Crusoe, which we are about to illustrate; consequently, I will not tell you about him, especially as he never existed at all, and was never thought of till a Scotch sailor named Alexander Selkirk lived all alone for four years on an island in the Pacific Ocean. The adventures of this sailor gave Daniel Defoe the hint to write the story of Crusoe: it has been done in verse by some one else, and it is the poetical version which I shall now give you."
Frank paused an instant while Fred placed the first picture of the series on a temporary easel, composed of the back of a chair, which stood on the end of the cabin table. As soon as the picture was adjusted Frank recited the lines:
"'When I was a lad my fortune was bad,
My grandfather I did lose, oh;
I'll wager a fan you've heard of the man,
His name it was Robinson Crusoe.'"Now," said Frank, "it is customary to sing this song to an accompaniment, but we are out of music to-night, and the audience must be contented with a recitation. If we gave it in song, we should expect you to join in the chorus, which would be in the following words:
"Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!
Sing tinky ting tang, sing tinky ting tang,
Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!'"By this time Fred had changed the scene—that is, he had removed the first picture and brought out the second. Frank then proceeded:
"'You've read in a book of a voyage he took,
How the raging whirlwinds blew, so
That the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,
Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.'"But we need have no fears of sharing the same fate," said Frank, "as we are in a steamer instead of a sailing-ship, and the raging whirlwinds would not be so likely to drive us on shore; and, besides, we are not in the season of typhoons, and everything promises us a prosperous voyage. Next picture."
The appearance of this work of art was the signal for the recital of the third verse of the old song:
"Poor soul! none but he escaped from the sea.
Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?
At length he was thrown on an island unknown,
And saved was poor Robinson Crusoe.'"The next picture was produced with great promptness, and the audience was left to pick out the various properties of the hero of the story, while Frank continued:
"'But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,
And another old matter or two, so
That by dint of his thrift he managed to shift
Pretty well for poor Robinson Crusoe.'"A contemplation of this admirable painting," said Frank, "will show you how much may be accomplished by very small means with a man of determination, or what amounts to pretty much the same thing, a man that can't help himself. It is hardly necessary to say that the hero of our story was obliged to make the best of everything, and the next picture shows how he accomplished it.
"He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,
The cattle away from him flew, so
That but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,
And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.'"By this time Fred had become accustomed to handling the sketches, and the change was made with great alacrity. Frank rested a moment till the eyes of the audience had sufficiently scanned the picture presented for their inspection, and which revealed the interior of Crusoe's residence when that gentleman was at dinner, with his pets about him. "The parrot will speak for himself," said Frank, "and therefore we will proceed with the narrative. The rest of the pets have never been known to talk, except in fables, and therefore we may conclude that they had nothing to say, though there is no reason to doubt that they were always glad to see their master, and did their best to console him and to lighten the burden of his solitude. From the appearance of things we may regard the family as a happy one.
"'He happened to save from the merciless wave
A poor parrot, believe me 'tis true, so
That when he came home from his wearisome roam,
She'd cry out 'Poor Robinson Crusoe!'""The explanation of the next picture may possibly be a tax on your credulity," said Frank; "but it is so stated in the song, and I cannot alter the words as they were originally written. The author doubtless availed himself of what is called 'the poet's license,' and followed Crusoe's example of using everything at his command.
"'Then he got all the wood that ever he could,
And stuck it together with glue, so
He made him a hut, in which he did put
All the flocks of Robinson Crusoe.'"At the termination of the second line Frank placed his fingers together to form an imaginary house-roof and indicate the way in which the castle of Robinson Crusoe was constructed. He explained to the audience that there had been much controversy concerning this matter, and it had happened in several instances that individuals who experienced no difficulty in believing Robinson Crusoe had really existed, and accepted his story as a true one, were thrown into a condition of doubt by the announcement that he employed glue in building his house. They argued that, in the first place, glue was difficult if not impossible for him to procure; and, secondly, it was a very poor material to use in cementing a roof. "But we will drop this discussion," said he, "and go on to the next scene. You will allow me to remark that the arrival of Friday made an end of the solitude of Robinson Crusoe, and gave him the human companionship he desired.
"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy—
For be sure 'twas his business to do so—
They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,
Lived Friday with Robinson Crusoe."And here is the portrait of the hero of the story," said Frank, as the next picture was brought out, "and you can judge of his personal character by the appearance of his features. His clothing is not such as would secure him ready admission to the best society of England and America; but, as he had no prying neighbors, and nobody to criticise his actions, it is not at all strange that he adopted this style of dress, particularly when there were no tailors and no ready-made clothing-stores on the island.
"'Then he wore a large cap, and his clothes without nap,
And a beard as long as a Jew, so
That when dressed in his coat he resembled a goat
More than poor Robinson Crusoe.'"And now comes the last," said Frank, as the closing picture of the series was produced. "And allow us to thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, and to express the hope that our efforts at whiling away part of the evening have not been altogether in vain. Alexander Selkirk disappeared from history when he left the island of Juan Fernandez and returned to England, and the story of Robinson Crusoe terminates in the same way. Our exhibition closes with the welcome arrival of the ship.
"'At length within hail he saw a stout sail,
And he took to his little canoe, so
When he reached the ship they gave him a trip,
And to England brought Robinson Crusoe.'"
ROBINSON CRUSOE. 
THE SHIPWRECK. 
LANDING OF ROBINSON CRUSOE. 
CRUSOE'S EQUIPMENT. 
CRUSOE AND HIS GUN. 
CRUSOE AND HIS PETS. 
CRUSOE'S CASTLE. 
ARRIVAL OF FRIDAY. 
PORTRAIT OF THE HERO. 
A SAIL! A SAIL! The boys bowed and retired, the audience applauded, and then one of the actors recited Cowper's lines on Alexander Selkirk, beginning
"I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute."
Then another of the party sung "A Life on the Ocean Wave;" and just as he reached the concluding lines the whistle of the steamer sounded, the engines came to a sudden stop, and the meeting, adjourned in a body to the deck to see what was the matter.
Lights gleamed on the shore and on ships at anchor near them; they saw at a glance that there was nothing alarming in the situation, and hardly needed the assurance of the captain, who came aft just then, that they were in front of Pondicherry.