From our standpoint on the bridge of the coasting steamer, we overlook the forward deck of the mail packet, where the homeward bound coolies form strangely picturesque groups in their rags and nakedness, mingled with occasional bits of highly colored clothing. A white turban, a red fez, a bandana kerchief bound about a woman's head, whose infant is lashed to her back in sleepy unconsciousness, all combine to produce a striking kaleidoscopic effect.
A southwest monsoon is coming on, and there will presently be a fierce downpour of rain. The coolies will have but one night to pass on the troubled sea, but it will be for them a wretched one,—seasick, ill-fed, and poorly sheltered creatures. Their small annual pittance is insignificant compensation for what they have to perform and what they endure. There are two or three hundred of them, herded like cattle; there is no cabin,—deck passage is all that is paid for; and such is considered quite good enough accommodations for these very humble Tamils. There is said to be compensation in the life of every living being, but it is difficult to point out wherein the principle applies to these low caste Indians.
Before leaving Colombo, an earnest desire possessed the author to see the town from the bay, under the charm imparted by an equatorial moon and starlight. A couple of native oarsmen and a comfortable boat afforded the means of gratifying this wish, all the stronger from the fresh memory of a like experience, not long ago, off the historic island of Malta. The view of Colombo, it must be acknowledged, was a disappointment. It is too thickly embowered with palms to form a pleasing picture of itself: but ah, the tropical night, luxurious and calm, with its wonderful brilliancy above, and its dark, mysterious shadows below! The molten silver on which we idly floated had just ripple sufficient to double its reflective power, lit by an occasional flash of phosphorescence when the oars were dipped. The hoarse murmur of the outside sea beating against the stout breakwater; the head and stern lights of the shipping at anchor, distributed here and there; the flashing eye of fire from the lighthouse, casting its long golden wake seaward; the dancing lamps on the low-lying shore of the Singhalese capital, with the soft strains of music from an English bungalow in the half-moon bend of the beach,—all together formed a delightful picture, leaving a typical scene deeply engraved on the memory.
Land, sea, and star-illumined sky, everything charmingly bright with the tender kiss of moonlight, how absolutely perfect was our farewell vision of this "utmost" Indian isle.
By Maturin M. Ballou.
THE PEARL OF INDIA.
Crown 8vo, $1.50.
THE STORY OF MALTA.
Crown 8vo, $1.50.
EQUATORIAL AMERICA. Descriptive of a Visit to St. Thomas, Martinique, Barbados, and the Principal Capitals of South America.
Crown 8vo, $1.50.