The novel fruit was, at first with some difficulty, opened; but the rajah’s superstitions were more powerful than even the effects of hunger itself. With awe, he approached the beach, over which wave followed wave in quick succession; whilst the surf beat with violence against the roots of those stately trees, which seemed to thrive best where no other tree of any utility whatever could survive even a temporary sprinkling from the briny spray. Mute with astonishment at the vast expanse of ocean, which he then for the first time approached, the rajah bent to taste the liquid aliment. It was as his vision prognosticated. Again his wonder was increased; but his faith had kept pace with it, in the full belief, that “ere the great moon had thrice given and refused her light,” he would be cleansed from his foul distemper; and his disrespectful demeanor under the sacred Bogaha, which had originally drawn down upon him the anger of the “All-seeing,”[112] be forgiven. Having once commenced, the rajah and his followers continued to live on the prescribed diet. The former, in obedience to the commands of Budhoo, by the Maha Sudona; and the latter, from necessity, there being none of their accustomed fruits, rice, or roots to be met with so near the ocean. They found the water[113] within the nuts sweet and delicious, and pure as crystal itself, (of which mineral their country produced abundant varieties,) whilst the fleshy part of it was a cooling and satisfying food. The prescribed time rolled on; and day after day convinced the delighted followers of their suffering prince, that truth came from above. The rajah gradually lost the white and scaly skin, which had enveloped him like the armour of the great ant-eater of the interior;[114] whilst the glow of heat which pervaded his extremities, convinced him of the near approach of his promised recovery. Thankful to his great preserver, he omitted not to perform the duties which in his visions had been dictated to him; and on the first stone, which appeared durable and beyond the reach of the sea, in token of his gratitude, he, with the assistance of his followers, carved on the granite rock (“which you now see,” is added by the narrator) a gigantic statue of himself; remarking, that its great height would show the wonderful recovery he had experienced, being a very little man in stature; “for he had risen, by the blessing of the god of all gods, to an undeserved height of happiness and bodily vigour; the memorial of which would thus be handed down to millions yet unborn.”