cannot help recounting a curious chance with a large rogue elephant in
Topari tank. This tank or lake is, like most others in Ceylon, the
result of vast labour in past ages. Valleys were closed in by immense
dams of solid masonry, which, checking the course of the rivers, formed
lakes of many miles in extent. These were used as reservoirs for the
water required for the irrigation of rice lands. The population who
effected these extensive works have long since passed away; their fate
is involved in mystery. The records of their ancient cities still exist,
but we have no account of their destruction. The ruins of one of these
cities, Pollanarua, are within half a mile of the village of Topari, and
the waters of the adjacent lake are still confined by a dam of two miles
in length, composed of solid masonry. When the lake is full, it is about
eight miles in circumference.

I had only just arrived at the village, and my horse-keeper had taken
the horse to drink at the lake, when he suddenly came running back to
say that a rogue elephant was bathing himself on the opposite shore, at
about two miles' distance.

I immediately took my guns and went after him. My path lay along the
top of the great dam, which formed a causeway covered with jungle. This
causeway was about sixty feet in breadth and two miles in length; the
lake washed its base about twenty feet below the summit. The opposite
shore was a fine plain, bordered by open forest, and the lake spread
into the grassy surface in wide and irregular bays.

I continued my course along the causeway at a fast walk, and on arriving
at the extremity of the lake, I noticed that the ancient dam continued
for a much greater distance. This, together with the great height of the
masonry from the level of the water, proved that the dimensions of the