in connection with the fresh water found in the Coral
Islands, and the rise and fall of the wells, and the
flow and ebb of the tide. He advances the theory
propounded by Darwin of the retention of the river-water,
which he says, “does not mix with the salt water
which surrounds it except at the edges of the land.
The flowing tide pushes on every side, the mixed soil
being very porous, and causes the water to rise:
when the tide falls, the fresh water sinks also.
A
sponge full of fresh water placed gently in a basin
of salt water, will not part with its contents for
a length of time if left untouched, and the water
in the middle of the sponge will be found untainted
by salt for many days: perhaps much longer if
tried.”—Vol. i. p. 365. In a
perfectly motionless medium the experiment of the
sponge may no doubt be successful to the extent mentioned
by Admiral Fitzroy; and so the rain-water imbibed
by a coral rock might for a length of time remain
fresh where it came into no contact with the salt.
But the disturbance caused by the tides, and the partial
intermixture admitted by Admiral Fitzroy, must by
reiterated occurrence tend in time to taint the fresh
water which is affected by the movement: and this
is demonstrable even by the test of the sponge; for
I find that on charging one with coloured fluid, and
immersing it in a vessel containing water perfectly
pure, no intermixture takes place so long as the pure
water is undisturbed; but on causing an artificial
tide, by gradually withdrawing and as gradually replacing
a portion of the surrounding contents of the basin,
the tinted water in the sponge becomes displaced and
disturbed, and in the course of a few ebbs and flows
its escape is made manifest by the quantity of colour
which it imparts to the surrounding fluid.]
An idea of the general aspect of Ceylon will be formed
from what has here been described. Nearly four
parts of the island are undulating plains, slightly
diversified by offsets from the mountain system which
entirely covers the remaining fifth. Every district,
from the depths of the valleys to the summits of the
highest hills, is clothed with perennial foliage;
and even the sand-drifts, to the ripple on the sea
line, are carpeted with verdure, and sheltered from
the sunbeams by the cool shadows of the palm groves.
SOIL.—But the soil, notwithstanding this
wonderful display of spontaneous vegetation, is not
responsive to systematic cultivation, and is but imperfectly
adapted for maturing a constant succession of seeds
and cereal productions.[1] Hence arose the disappointment
which beset the earliest adventurers who opened plantations
of coffee in the hills, on discovering that after
the first rapid development of the plants, delicacy
and languor ensued, which were only to be corrected
by returning to the earth, in the form of manures,
those elements with which it had originally been but
sparingly supplied, and which were soon exhausted
by the first experiments in cultivation.