Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.Various
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
Once on board, we lost no time in making sail, and by eleven o'clock had
reached the other side, which is the northern coast of the
island--Jaffna being, properly speaking, an island. The sun was now
extremely hot, so we rode only a mile to a dilapidated old fort, and
then breakfasted; after which we set to arranging all things for our
expedition. Here the coolies were curiously deceived, by insisting on
carrying the smallest loads, which contained our guns and ammunition,
misjudging their weight by their size. After a good deal of talking,
without which nothing Oriental can be achieved, we again got our party
under-weigh, and proceeded due south, toward the village of Maniacolom,
which was to be head-quarters for our first day's sport. The country
through which we passed was a flat sandy plain, covered with low jungly
brushwood, with occasional creeks and hollows, where the ancient tanks
(whose builders are unknown) had once made fertile this now barren
waste. No cultivation--no inhabitants; but every now and then a herd of
deer, or a timid hare would dart away far ahead, disturbed by our noisy
followers, or the uncouth cry of the tank-birds, break the monotony of
the march. It was already dark when we made out the round roof of the
village of Maniacolom, with its sugar-loaf ricks of paddy-straw, peeping
above the stockade which incloses its area. The houses are built
something in the fashion in which Catlin describes those of the now
extinct Mandans. A hole is sunk in the ground, and a pole fixed in the
centre, to which the rafters that support the roof are tied. In these
small huts, perhaps only fifteen feet in diameter, whole families live
together; but the climate is so fine, that few care to sleep in their
houses--preferring the peelas or verandas to their smoky room. I am
sorry to say our appearance was not by any means hailed by the natives
with cordiality--perhaps a ripple of the severities of August, 1848, had
reached their quiet spot, and the minds of its inhabitants may still
have been filled with dread of the merciless aim of our riflemen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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