My Pearl-Fishing Expedition.

|EYLON has for centuries been famed for the richness

and value of its pearls. Its oyster banks are said to have furnished those which the voluptuous Cleopatra quaffed in her wine to the health of Marc Antony. The "Barbaric Pearl" was ever a favourite ornament amongst the Greek and Roman ladies; and it is still as highly prized by the native princes of India. The most costly produce of the Ceylon Pearl Fisheries is carried, by Moorish and Hindoo traders, to the Indian Continent: the least valuable are mostly exported to the countries of Europe.

The reader need hardly be informed that the pearl is a substance found secreted in the flesh of a peculiar species of nonedible oyster, which is met with on the north-west coast of Ceylon, as well as in the Persian Gulf, in the Sooloo Islands, on the coast of Algiers, in the Bay of Panama, and in one or two other places. These oysters are more prettily shaped than the edible oysters of this country. The interior of the shell has a most beautiful mother-o'-pearl appearance. The finest pearls are usually found in the beard of the oyster, whilst the smaller varieties, and those known as seed pearls, are met with in the thick part of the flesh. Some have been seen as large as pistolbullets, and one is on record as having been worth one hundred and ten thousand pounds. The average value, however, of the middling sizes is about three or four pounds; whilst the smaller sizes are to be had for a few shillings.

Since the possession of Ceylon by the British, the Pearl Fishery has proved a source of considerable revenue to the Government; yielding, occasionally, as much as eighty thousand pounds per annum. The season for fishing is during the month of March; just when the force of the north-east monsoon has passed over, and previous to the first appearance of the southwest winds. The oyster banks are situated off a point of land called Aripo, on the west coast of the island, far to the north of Colombo, and not very distant from "Adam's Bridge;" a ridge of rocks crossing the Samubin Channel, nearly from Ceylon to the most southern point of the Indian Continent. The Banks

are numerous and mostly of but a few miles in extent; they are out of sight of land, which is here very low, so that to fish them requires some degree of experience and skill. The exclusive right to this Fishery rests with the Ceylon Government; and this right was, for many years, sold by public auction or by private tenders, to native renters. In more recent times the Government fished the Banks on their own account, disposing of the oysters, as brought on shore, by auction.

On the 25th of February, 1836, I arrived in the Bay of Condaletry, the anchorage of Aripo, a passenger on board the Government barque "Wellington," of whose commander I was the guest. The Inspector of the Pearl Banks was also on board, with his own boat and crew; his lugger was fitted up very comfortably with awnings and cushions, precautions I soon found highly necessary on such service.

Early the next morning I landed with the Inspector at Silawatorre, a small village, distant a few miles from the station at Aripo. This was a most miserable little place, consisting of but a single row of small mud huts, standing in hot and dusty soli

tude, with a few lonely parched up palms near them; but far as the eye could reach, inland or coastwise, there was nothing to break the monotony of endless sand-plains, save the distant white walls of the "Doric;" a lofty, stuccoed Government building near Aripo, which glistened and shone so brilliantly in the rays of the morning sun as to make one's eyes blink again. For miles around lay countless heaps of snowy oyster shells, bleached by the suns of many monsoons. Ridge over ridge, heap upon heap, they seemed to have no end; and one might well have imagined that, in years long past, some conflicting armies of oysters had met to do battle on those sea-washed sands, and left their many hecatombs of slain unburied on those wastes.

There were a few dirty women, and thin-faced children on the beach, whose curiosity had for the moment overcome their sloth. Further on under three palms, stood the Adapanaar of Aripo, or headman of the district; a fine grey-bearded old man, attended by his deputy the Maniagar, and a few seedy looking followers armed to the teeth with paper umbrellas and painted sticks. The inspector adjourned with these strange-looking officials to a thatched open bungalow, by a small flag-staff, where they were soon engrossed in details respecting the approaching fishery. The scene was altogether so desolate and uninteresting, and the sun was becoming so powerful, that I was glad to return to the ship by the first opportunity-a native canoe.

The following morning we stood out for the "Banks," near which the anchor was dropped, and for several days, the Inspector and his boat's crew were occupied in placing buoys with little blue and red flags attached, upon the edges of the several beds which were to be poked. The weather was oppressively hot; the sky was without a cloud to break the intensity of the sun's

rays; the sea-breeze blew faintly and fitfully, scarcely rippling the surface of the water, which seemed as though it were a sea of some molten metal.

On the 5th of March we returned to our anchorage in Condaletry Bay; but this time closer to the shore. I could not help being amused at the pantomimic change which had, during our absence, come over the dull mud-village and dusty plains on shore. It was as though Harlequin had, with his wand, transformed all those piles of shells I had left on the beach, into living masses of dusky human beings. The Genius of the Wonderful Lamp must have given his vessel an extra rub, and conjured up the inhabitants of some subterranean world to astonish us on our return. The very sands of the plain seemed to be redolent of life. The miserable row of low, dirty huts had either been levelled to the ground, or were hidden from sight by numberless gaily-coloured booths or Pandals, of all sorts of shapes and sizes, ornamented with the pale green leaves of the Palmyra and Cocoa Palm, and long stripes of white cloth. There were thousands of natives flocking and struggling down to the beach, as though they expected us to bring on shore all the wealth of the Pearl Banks. Our anchorage-ground was opposite the little flag-staff; and, about us as thick as they could be moored, lay fully two hundred native boats of various sizes, though of one build, being a sort of rakish-looking barge; so sharp and knowing, both forwards and aft, that one might have imagined them to have been bloated and corpulent London wherries. They were each manned by ten oarsmen, a Tandal or steersman, and his deputy, besides a cooley for baling out the water; for most of these crafts leak freely. They measure from eight to twelve tons, yet there are very few nails about them; the omnipotent

cocoa-nut fibre serving to fasten nearly all Cingalese vessels and

boats together. I could not resist the temptation presented by the motley scene on shore. Accordingly, towards the evening, I landed, and mixed amongst the busy, endless throng. It seemed almost incredible that the gay place I then beheld, could have been the same that not many days since I had left so silent and desolate. There was the flag-staff, however, now enclosed by a broken fence, and guarded by a detachment of Malay riflemen. Further off, towering high above the Pandals and bazaars, were the dazzling white walls of the Doric. It was with the utmost difficulty that I forced my way through the dense moving mass; the noise, the crowd, the heat, the smell, the motley colours, all served to annoy and perplex, whilst they amused. All these thousands were congregated to share in, or derive some profit from the fishery about to take place. All appeared anxious to learn if the day had been fixed; how many boats would be employed; and for how long. A few of the more respectable traders passed around me, in the hope of gathering some information on these points; but in vain. Wealthy Hindoo merchants; Moormen and Malabar Chettys from the opposite coasts of India; Parawa traders from the Madura shore; Arabs, Banians, and Parsees, from Bombay and Madras; dealers from the Persian Gulf; Tamils, Jews, Chinese, Portuguese, Dutch, half-castes, Cingalese, Malays; all were there, in their many gaily-coloured and varied costumes, making up what might well have been taken for a masquerade in the open air.

Long rows of bazaars stretched as far as the eye could reach; gaudily decorated, and filled to the roof with wares and merchandise of every conceivable kind, as though the swarms of visitors