Even here, such a doctor might be as much at fault as his confrères have shown themselves with regard to those singular detached rocks at Tunbridge Wells, at which they have laboured in vain. Their grooved, fluted bases unquestionably denote the action of violent currents at some period or other; and being the fittest, they have survived the general overthrow. And certainly they have been put to the utmost use as a show place at that fashionable resort, and much ingenuity has been expended on making them appear more extensive than they really are.
CHAPTER XVI.
AMHERST.
“Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed.”
The glory of this place had departed. As Moulmein rose in importance this once busy centre fell into decay, assuming for the most part its primeval condition of luxuriant vegetation.
It was, nevertheless, the spot chosen for a sanatorium during the second Burmese war, and it certainly fulfilled the requirements of all concerned. Being built on the seashore, and at the mouth of the river, it combined great salubrity with easiness of approach.
At the extreme point of a ledge of rocks that ran some distance out to sea stood the lighthouse, from which a submerged reef stretched obliquely towards the shore, enclosing an area of water in which the soldiers used to bathe, although the mouth of the river was infested with sharks.
According to the testimony of the oldest inhabitant, none of these monsters had ever been known to stray inside the reef; though how soon this immunity ceased to be, the reader will learn before the close of the present chapter.
There were several barracks facing the sea, and close to the shore, which was composed of alternate stretches of sand and rock. They were built on piles, very roomy and comfortable, having thick roofs and broad verandahs; and although unoccupied for several years, they were soon rendered habitable by a little vigorous sweeping and scrubbing, the eviction of extensive colonies of bats, spiders, and other insects, which were in possession, and had multiplied after their kind.
Amherst was, in fact, to Moulmein much what Brighton is to the Metropolis—a convenient place to run down to for a brief respite from drudgery and a breath of sea air.