ABSTRACT
From Ceylon we proceeded after a time to Madras roads, where we soon became well acquainted with all the outs and ins of the celebrated surf of that place. This surf, after all, is not really higher than many which one meets with in other countries; but certainly it is the highest and most troublesome which exists as a permanent obstruction in front of a great commercial city. The restsless ingenuity and perseverance of man, however, have gone far to surmount this difficulty; and now the passage to and from the beach at Madras offers hardly any serious interruption to the intercourse. still, it is by no means an agreeable operation to pass through the surf under any circumstances; and occasionally, during the northeast monsoon, it is attended with some degree of danger. For the first two or three times, I remember thinking it very good sport to cross the surf, and sympathised but little with the anxious expressions or some older hands who accompanied me. The boat, the boatmen, their curious oars, the Grange noises they made, and the attendant catamarans to pick up the passengers if the boat upsets being all new to my eyes, and particularly odd in themselves, so Wrongly engaged my attention, that I had no leisure to think of the danger till the boat was cast violently on the beach. The very first time I landed, the whole party were pitched out heels over head on the shore. I thought it a mighty odd way of landing; but supposing it to be all regular and proper, I merely muttered with the sailor whom the raree showman blew into the air,—“What the devil will the fellows do next?” and scrambled up the wet sand as best I might.
