I was much interested in all I saw during my travels in Ceylon. I was prepared to see fine scenery and rich foliage, but the reality greatly exceeded my expectation. On the coast between Galle and Colombo there is a considerable extent of level land, covered by the cocoanut palm, which forms much of the wealth of the people. Every part of the tree is turned to account. The wood is used for rafters, and the leaves for thatching. The kernel is an article of food, but its principal value comes from the oil made from it after it has been dried. The nut contains a liquid, which is deemed by the natives very refreshing. The fibrous husk round the cocoanut, called coir, is manufactured into ropes, matting, brushes, and other useful articles. It is largely and profitably exported. The trees are tapped for a juice, which, boiled when fresh, gives what is called palm-sugar; but when kept, becomes intoxicating. The name of the tree in the native language is "Tar"; this intoxicating juice is called "Taree," and by a well-known custom of linguistic transposition it is called by English people "Toddy." We have at Benares palm-trees which furnish this toddy, and I am sorry to say it is by far too largely used. This cocoanut palm abounds on the coast, and is always bent towards the sea, as if to welcome its breezes, or to strengthen itself against them. Away from the coast it well-nigh disappears, and trees of a very different order are seen on every side, many of them rising to a great height and covered with beautiful foliage.
The scenery in the interior is very striking. When travelling on the top of the coach from Colombo to Kandy, I might have thought myself in my own Highlands, as mountain after mountain came into view, and our road in its descents and ascents skirted precipices, where safety demanded the most careful driving. Long, winding valleys, through which rivers flowed, with falls and cascades here and there, reminded me of our finest straths. I saw no large bodies of water like our lochs. There were two points of marked dissimilarity. The month was December; I required no great-coat, and the rays of the sun were stronger than was pleasant. Instead of the leafless trees, and the white covering of the snow of the Scottish winter, there were trees in their richest dress, and all around a verdure of the freshest green, telling me I was in a tropical land, and in a land where heat and moisture by their abundance gave extraordinary force to vegetation. As I travelled from Kandy to Newera Ellia, and back again to Kandy by a different route, my impression of the picturesqueness and productiveness of the country was confirmed. There was one thing I did not see--the blooming heather of my own Highlands.