. Wanderings east of Suez in Ceylon, India, China and Japan. ar-vels of modern times, surely. 29 CHAPTER II COLOMBO, CEYLON ^S COSMOPOLITAN SEAPORT A MODERN man of business might believethat Bishop Heber of Calcutta wove intoirresistible verse a tremendous advertisement forCeylon real estate, but repelled investors by asweeping castigation of mankind, when he wrote: What though the spicy breezesBlow soft oer Ceylons isle; Though every prospect pleases,And only man is vile. In tens of thousands of Christian churches thepraises of Ceylon are thus sung every Sunday, andwill be as long as the inha
. Wanderings east of Suez in Ceylon, India, China and Japan. ar-vels of modern times, surely. 29 CHAPTER II COLOMBO, CEYLON ^S COSMOPOLITAN SEAPORT A MODERN man of business might believethat Bishop Heber of Calcutta wove intoirresistible verse a tremendous advertisement forCeylon real estate, but repelled investors by asweeping castigation of mankind, when he wrote: What though the spicy breezesBlow soft oer Ceylons isle; Though every prospect pleases,And only man is vile. In tens of thousands of Christian churches thepraises of Ceylon are thus sung every Sunday, andwill be as long as the inhabitants of America andGreat Britain speak the English language. Someof the divines statements, to be acceptable as im-partial testimony, require modification; for thenatural charms of the island are not so sweepinglyperfect, and there man is far above the Asian av-erage. Hymnists, it may be inferred, write withsome of the license of poets. No part of Englandsgreat realm, nevertheless, is more beautiful thanthe crown colony of Ceylon in the Indian Ocean. 30. Colombo, Ceylons Seaport An Eastbound traveler during the long runfrom Aden hears much of the incomparable islandof palms, pearls, and elephants; and every wag-gish shipmate haunts smoke room and ladies sa-loon waiting for the opportunity to point out thelighthouse on Minecoy Island in the Maldives as the Light of Asia. Pour hundred miles furtherand your good ship approaches Colombo. Thegreat breakwater, whose first stone was laid byAlbert Edward, is penetrated at last, and the poly-glot and universal harbor of call unfolds like afan. Theres music within; the breezes bring proofof this. Surely, it is Bishop Hebers trite stanzasrepeated in unison by the forgiving populace—they are sung everywhere, and why not in Ceylonsgreat seaport? The ship churns forward to hermoorings. It is singing; there is no mistaking the air? Does it deal with spicy breezes,and pleasing prospects? No; it is a sort ofchant. Listen again. Ah,
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