Excursion from Dorjiling to Great Rungeet—Zones of
vegetation—Tree-ferns—Palms, upper limit of—Leebong, tea
plantations—Ging—Boodhist remains—Tropical vegetation—Pines—Lepcha
clearances—Forest fires—Boodhist monuments—Fig—Cane bridge and raft
over Rungeet—Sago-palm—India-rubber—Yel Pote—Butterflies and other
insects—Snakes—Camp—Temperature and humidity of atmosphere—Junction of
Teesta and Rungeet—Return to Dorjiling—Tonglo, excursion to—Bamboo
flowering—Oaks—Gordonia—Maize, hermaphrodite
flowered—Figs—Nettles—Peepsa—Simonbong, cultivation at—European fruits
at Dorjiling—Plains of India.
A very favourite and interesting excursion from Dorjiling is to the
cane bridge over the Great Rungeet river, 6000 feet below the station.
To this an excellent road has been cut, by which the whole descent of
six miles, as the crow flies, is easily performed on pony-back; the
road distance being only eleven miles. The scenery is, of course, of a
totally different description from that of Sinchul, or even of the foot
of the hills, being that of a deep mountain-valley. I several times
made this trip; on the excursion about to be described, and in which I
was accompanied by Mr. Barnes, I followed the Great Rungeet to the
Teesta, into which it flows.
In descending from Dorjiling, the zones of vegetation are well marked
between 6000 and 7000 feet by—1. The oak, chesnut, and Magnolias, the
main features from 7000 to 10,000 feet.—2. Immediately below 6,500
feet, the tree-fern appears (_Alsophila gigantea,_ Wall.), a
widely-distributed plant, common to the Himalaya, from Nepal eastward
to the Malayan peninsula, Java, and Ceylon.—3. Of palms, a species of
_Calamus,_ and _Plectocomia,_ the “Rhenoul” of the Lepchas. The latter,
though not a very large plant, climbs lofty trees, and extends about 40
yards through the forest; 6,500 feet is the upper limit of palms in the
Sikkim Himalaya, the Rhenoul alone attaining this elevation.[46]—4. The
fourth striking feature is a wild plantain, which ascends to nearly the
same elevation (“Lukhlo,” Lepcha). This is replaced by another, and
rather larger species, at lower elevations; both ripen austere and
small fruits, which are full of seeds, and quite uneatable; that
commonly grown in Sikkim is an introduced stock (nor have the wild
species ever been cultivated); it is very large, but poor in flavour,
and does not bear seeds. The zones of these conspicuous plants are very
clearly defined, and especially if the traveller, standing on one of
the innumerable spurs which project from the Dorjiling ridge, cast his
eyes up the gorges of green on either hand.
[46] Four other _Calami_ range between 1000 and 6000 feet on the outer
hills, some of them being found forty miles distant from the plains of
India. The other palms of Sikkim are, “Simong” (_Caryota urens_); it
is rare, and ascends to nearly 5000 feet. _Phœnix_ (probably _P.
acaulis,_ Buch.), a small, stemless species, which grows on the driest
soil in the deep valleys; it is the “Schaap” of the Lepchas, who eat
the young seeds, and use the feathery fronds as screens in hunting.
_Wallichia oblonjpgolia,_ the “Ooh” of the Lepchas, who make no use of
it; Dr. Campbell and myself, however, found that it is an admirable
fodder for horses, who prefer it to any other green food to be had in
these mountains. _Areca gracilis_ and _Licuala peltata_ are the only
other palms in Sikkim; but _Cycas pectinata,_ with the India-rubber
fig, occurs in the deepest and hottest valleys—the western limit of
both these interesting plants. Of _Pandanus_ there is a graceful
species at elevations of 1000 to 4000 feet (“Borr,” Lepcha).
At 1000 feet below Dorjiling a fine wooded spur projects, called
Leebong. This beautiful spot is fully ten degrees warmer than Mr.
Hodgson’s house, and enjoys considerably more sunshine; peaches and
English fruit-trees flourish extremely well, but do not ripen fruit.
The tea-plant succeeds here admirably, and might be cultivated to great
profit, and be of advantage in furthering a trade with Tibet. It has
been tried on a large scale by Dr. Campbell at his residence (alt. 7000
feet), but the frosts and snow of that height injure it, as do the
hailstorms in spring.
Below Leebong is the village of Ging, surrounded by steeps, cultivated
with maize, rice, and millet. It is rendered very picturesque by a long
row of tall poles, each bearing a narrow, vertically elongated banner,
covered with Boodhist inscriptions, and surmounted by coronet-like
ornaments, or spear-heads, rudely cut out of wood, or formed of
basket-work, and adorned with cotton fringe. Ging is peopled by Bhotan
emigrants, and when one dies, if his relations can afford to pay for
them, two additional poles and flags are set up by the Lamas in honour
of his memory, and that of Sunga, the third member of the Boodhist
Trinity.
Below this the _Gordonia_ commences, with _Cedrela toona,_ and various
tropical genera, such as abound near Punkabaree. The heat and hardness
of the rocks cause the streams to dry up on these abrupt hills,
especially on the eastern slope, and the water is therefore conveyed
along the sides of the path, in conduits ingeniously made of bamboo,
either split in half, or, what is better, whole, except at the septum,
which is removed through a lateral hole. The oak and chesnut of this
level (3000 feet), are both different from those which grow above, as
are the brambles. The _Arums_ are replaced by _Caladiums._ Tree-ferns
cease below 4000 feet, and the large bamboo abounds.
At about 2000 feet, and ten miles distant from Dorjiling, we arrived at
a low, long spur, dipping down to the bed of the Rungeet, at its
junction with the Rungmo. This is close to the boundary of the British
ground, and there is a guard-house, and a sepoy or two at it; here we
halted. It took the Lepchas about twenty minutes to construct a table
and two bedsteads within our tent; each was made of four forked sticks,
stuck in the ground, supporting as many side-pieces, across which were
laid flat split pieces of bamboo, bound tightly together by strips of
rattan palm-stem. The beds were afterwards softened by many layers of
bamboo-leaf, and if not very downy, they were dry, and as firm as if
put together with screws and joints. This spur rises out of a deep
valley, quite surrounded by lofty mountains; it is narrow, and covered
with red clay, which the natives chew as a cure for goître. North, it
looks down into a gully, at the bottom of which the Rungeet’s foamy
stream winds through a dense forest. In the opposite direction, the
Rungmo comes tearing down from the top of Sinchul, 7000 feet above; and
though its roar is heard, and its course is visible throughout its
length, the stream itself is nowhere seen, so deep does it cut its
channel. Except on this, and a few similarly hard rocky hills around,
the vegetation is a mass of wood and jungle. At this spot it is rather
scanty and dry, with abundance of the _Pinus lonjpgolia_ and Sal. The
dwarf date-palm (_Phœnix acaulis_) also, was very abundant.
The descent to the river was exceedingly steep, the banks presenting an
impenetrable jungle. The pines on the arid crests of the hills around
formed a remarkable feature: they grow like the Scotch fir, the tall,
red trunks springing from the steep and dry slopes. But little resin
exudes from the stem, which, like that of most pines, is singularly
free from lichens and mosses; its wood is excellent, and the charcoal
of the burnt leaves is used as a pigment. Being confined to dry soil,
this pine is local in Sikkim, and the elevation it attains here is not
above 3000 feet. In Bhotan, where there is more dry country, its range
is about the same, and in the north-west Himalaya, from 2,500 to 7000
feet.
The Lepcha never inhabits one spot for more than three successive
years, after which an increased rent is demanded by the Rajah. He
therefore _squats_ in any place which he can render profitable for that
period, and then moves to another. His first operation, after selecting
a site, is to burn the jungle; then he clears away the trees, and
cultivates between the stumps. At this season, firing the jungle is a
frequent practice, and the effect by night is exceedingly fine; a
forest, so dry and full of bamboo, and extending over such steep hills,
affording grand blazing spectacles. Heavy clouds canopy the mountains
above, and, stretching across the valleys, shut out the firmament; the
air is a dead calm, as usual in these deep gorges, and the fires,
invisible by day, are seen raging all around, appearing to an
inexperienced eye in all but dangerous proximity. The voices of birds
and insects being hushed, nothing is audible but the harsh roar of the
rivers, and occasionally, rising far above it, that of the forest
fires. At night we were literally surrounded by them; some smouldering,
like the shale-heaps at a colliery, others fitfully bursting forth,
whilst others again stalked along with a steadily increasing and
enlarging flame, shooting out great tongues of fire, which spared
nothing as they advanced with irresistible might. Their triumph is in
reaching a great bamboo clump, when the noise of the flames drowns that
of the torrents, and as the great stem-joints, burst, from the
expansion of the confined air, the report is as that of a salvo from a
park of artillery. At Dorjiling the blaze is visible, and the deadened
reports of the bamboos bursting is heard throughout the night; but in
the valley, and within a mile of the scene of destruction, the effect
is the most grand, being heightened by the glare reflected from the
masses of mist which hover above.
On the following morning we pursued a path to the bed of the river;
passing a rude Booddhist monument, a pile of slate-rocks, with an
attempt at the mystical hemisphere at top. A few flags or banners, and
slabs of slate, were inscribed with “Om Mani Padmi om.” Placed on a
jutting angle of the spur, backed with the pine-clad hills, and flanked
by a torrent on either hand, the spot was wild and picturesque; and I
could not but gaze with a feeling of deep interest on these emblems of
a religion which perhaps numbers more votaries than any other on the
face of the globe. Booddhism in some form is the predominating creed,
from Siberia and Kamschatka to Ceylon, from the Caspian steppes to
Japan, throughout China, Burmah, Ava, and a part of the Malayan
Archipelago. Its associations enter into every book of travels over
these vast regions, with Booddha, Dhurma, Sunga, Jos, Fo, and
praying-wheels. The mind is arrested by the names, the imagination
captivated by the symbols; and though I could not worship in the grove,
it was impossible to deny to the inscribed stones such a tribute as is
commanded by the first glimpse of objects which have long been familiar
to our minds, but not previously offered to our senses. My head Lepcha
went further: to a due observance of demon-worship he united a deep
reverence for the Lamas, and he venerated their symbols rather as
theirs than as those of their religion. He walked round the pile of
stones three times from left to right repeating his “Om Mani,” etc.,
then stood before it with his head hung down and his long queue
streaming behind, and concluded by a votive offering of three
pine-cones. When done, he looked round at me, nodded, smirked, elevated
the angles of his little turned-up eyes, and seemed to think we were
safe from all perils in the valleys yet to be explored.
[Illustration: Pines (Pinus lonjpgolia), Rungeet Valley]
In the gorge of the Rungeet the heat was intolerable, though the
thermometer did not rise above 95°. The mountains leave but a narrow
gorge between them, here and there bordered by a belt of strong soil,
supporting a towering crop of long cane-like grasses and tall trees.
The troubled river, about eighty yards across, rages along over a
gravelly bed. Crossing the Rungmo, where it falls into the Rungeet, we
came upon a group of natives drinking fermented Murwa liquor, under a
rock; I had a good deal of difficulty in getting my people past, and
more in inducing one of the topers to take the place of a Ghorka
(Nepalese) of our party who was ill with fever. Soon afterwards, at a
most wild and beautiful spot, I saw, for the first time, one of the
most characteristic of Himalayan objects of art, _a cane bridge._ All
the spurs, round the bases of which the river flowed, were steep and
rocky, their flanks clothed with the richest tropical forest, their
crests tipped with pines. On the river’s edge, the Banana, _Pandanus,_
and _Bauhinia,_ were frequent, and Figs prevailed. One of the latter
(of an exceedingly beautiful species) projected over the stream,
growing out of a mass of rock, its roots interlaced and grasping at
every available support, while its branches, loaded with deep glossy
foliage, hung over the water.
[Illustration: Construction of a cane suspension bridge]
This tree formed one pier for the canes; that on the opposite bank, was
constructed of strong piles, propped with large stones; and between
them swung the bridge,[47] about eighty yards long, ever rocking over
the torrent (forty feet below). The lightness and extreme simplicity of
its structure were very remarkable. Two parallel canes, on the same
horizontal plane, were stretched across the stream; from them others
hung in loops, and along the loops were laid one or two bamboo stems
for flooring; cross pieces below this flooring, hung from the two upper
canes, which they thus served to keep apart. The traveller grasps one
of the canes in either hand, and walks along the loose bamboos laid on
the swinging loops: the motion is great, and the rattling of the loose
dry bamboos is neither a musical sound, nor one calculated to inspire
confidence; the whole structure seeming as if about to break down. With
shoes it is not easy to walk; and even with bare feet it is often
difficult, there being frequently but one bamboo, which, if the
fastening is loose, tilts up, leaving the pedestrian suspended over the
torrent by the slender canes. When properly and strongly made, with
good fastenings, and a floor of bamboos laid _transversely,_ these
bridges are easy to cross. The canes are procured from a species of
_Calamus_; they are as thick as the finger, and twenty, or thirty yards
long, knotted together; and the other pieces are fastened to them by
strips of the same plant. A Lepcha, carrying one hundred and forty
pounds on his back, crosses without hesitation, slowly but steadily,
and with perfect confidence.
[47] A sketch of one of these bridges will be found in Vol. II.
A deep broad pool below the bridge was made available for a ferry: the
boat was a triangular raft of bamboo stems, with a stage on the top,
and it was secured on the opposite side of the stream, having a cane
reaching across to that on which we were. A stout Lepcha leapt into the
boiling flood, and boldly swam across, holding on by the cane, without
which he would have been carried away. He unfastened the raft, and we
drew it over by the cane, and, seated on the stage, up to our knees in
water, we were pulled across; the raft bobbing up and down over the
rippling stream.
We were beyond British ground, on the opposite bank, where any one
guiding Europeans is threatened with punishment: we had expected a
guide to follow us, but his non-appearance caused us to delay for some
hours; four roads, or rather forest paths, meeting here, all of which
were difficult to find. After a while, part of a marriage-procession
came up, headed by the bridegroom, a handsome young Lepcha, leading a
cow for the marriage feast; and after talking to him a little, he
volunteered to show us the path. On the flats by the stream grew the
Sago palm (_Cycas pectinata_), with a stem ten feet high, and a
beautiful crown of foliage; the contrast between this and the
Scotch-looking pine (both growing with oaks and palms) was curious.
Much of the forest had been burnt, and we traversed large blackened
patches, where the heat was intense, and increased by the burning
trunks of prostrate trees, which smoulder for months, and leave a heap
of white ashes. The larger timber being hollow in the centre, a current
of air is produced, which causes the interior to burn rapidly, till the
sides fall in, and all is consumed. I was often startled, when walking
in the forest, by the hot blast proceeding from such, which I had
approached without a suspicion of their being other than cold dead
trunks.
Leaving the forest, the path led along the river bank, and over the
great masses of rock which strewed its course. The beautiful
India-rubber fig was common, as was _Bassia butyracea,_ the “Yel Pote”
of the Lepchas, from the seeds of which they express a concrete oil,
which is received and hardens in bamboo vessels. On the forest-skirts,
_Hoya,_ parasitical _Orchideæ,_ and Ferns, abounded; the Chaulmoogra,
whose fruit is used to intoxicate fish, was very common; as was an
immense mulberry tree, that yields a milky juice and produces a long
green sweet fruit. Large fish, chiefly Cyprinoid, were abundant in the
beautifully clear water of the river. But by far the most striking
feature consisted in the amazing quantity of superb butterflies, large
tropical swallow-tails, black, with scarlet or yellow eyes on their
wings. They were seen everywhere, sailing majestically through the
still hot air, or fluttering from one scorching rock to another, and
especially loving to settle on the damp sand of the river-edge; where
they sat by thousands, with erect wings, balancing themselves with a
rocking motion, as their heavy sails inclined them to one side or the
other; resembling a crowded fleet of yachts on a calm day. Such an
entomological display cannot be surpassed. _Cicindelæ_ were very
numerous, and incredibly active, as were _Grylli_; and the great
_Cicadeæ_ were everywhere lighting on the ground, when they uttered a
short sharp creaking sound, and anon disappeared, as if by magic.
Beautiful whip-snakes were gleaming in the sun: they hold on by a few
coils of the tail round a twig, the greater part of their body
stretched out horizontally, occasionally retracting, and darting an
unerring aim at some insect. The narrowness of the gorge, and the
excessive steepness of the bounding hills, prevented any view, except
of the opposite mountain face, which was one dense forest, in which the
wild Banana was conspicuous.
Towards evening we arrived at another cane-bridge, still more
dilapidated than the former, but similar in structure. For a few
hundred yards before reaching it, we lost the path, and followed the
precipitous face of slate-rocks overhanging the stream, which dashed
with great violence below. Though we could not walk comfortably, even
with our shoes off, the Lepchas, bearing their enormous loads,
proceeded with perfect indifference.
Anxious to avoid sleeping at the bottom of the valley, we crawled, very
much fatigued, through burnt dry forest, up a very sharp ridge, so
narrow that the tent sat astride on it, the ropes being fastened to the
tops of small trees on either slope. The ground swarmed with black
ants, which got into our tea, sugar, etc., while it was so covered with
charcoal, that we were soon begrimed. Our Lepchas preferred remaining
on the river-bank, whence they had to bring up water to us, in great
bamboo “chungis,” as they are called. The great dryness of this face is
owing to its southern exposure: the opposite mountains, equally high
and steep, being clothed in a rich green forest.
At nine the next morning, the temperature was 78°, but a fine cool
easterly wind blew. Descending to the bed of the river, the temperature
was 84°. The difference in humidity of the two stations (with about 300
feet difference in height) was more remarkable; at the upper, the wet
bulb thermometer was 67·5°, and consequently the saturation point,
0·713; at the lower, the wet bulb was 68°, and saturation, 0·599. The
temperature of the river was, at all hours of the preceding day, and
this morning, 67·5°.[48]
[48] At this hour, the probable temperature at Dorjiling (6000 feet
above this) would be 56°, with a temperature of wet bulb 55°, and the
atmosphere loaded with vapour. At Calcutta, again, the temperature was
at the observatory 98.·3°, wet bulb, 81.8°, and saturation=0·737. The
dryness of the air, in the damper-looking and luxuriant river-bed, was
owing to the heated rocks of its channel; while the humidity of the
atmosphere over the drier-looking hill where we encamped, was due to
the moisture of the wind then blowing.
Our course down the river was by so rugged a path, that, giddy and
footsore with leaping from rock to rock, we at last attempted the
jungle, but it proved utterly impervious. On turning a bend of the
stream, the mountains of Bhotan suddenly presented themselves, with the
Teesta flowing at their base; and we emerged at the angle formed by the
junction of the Rungeet, which we had followed from the west, of the
Teesta, coming from the north, and of their united streams flowing
south.
We were not long before enjoying the water, when I was surprised to
find that of the Teesta singularly cold; its temperature being 7° below
that of the Rungeet.[49] At the salient angle (a rocky peninsula) of
their junction, we could almost place one foot in the cold stream and
the other in the warmer. There is a no less marked difference in the
colour of the two rivers; the Teesta being sea-green and muddy, the
Great Rungeet dark green and very clear; and the waters, like those of
the Arve and Rhone at Geneva, preserve their colours for some hundred
yards; the line separating the two being most distinctly drawn. The
Teesta, or main stream, is much the broadest (about 80 or 100 yards
wide at this season), the most rapid and deep. The rocks which skirt
its bank were covered with a silt or mud deposit, which I nowhere
observed along the Great Rungeet, and which, as well as its colour and
coldness, was owing to the vast number of then melting glaciers drained
by this river. The Rungeet, on the other hand, though it rises amongst
the glaciers of Kinchinjunga and its sister peaks, is chiefly supplied
by the rainfall of the outer ranges of Sinchul and Singalelah, and
hence its waters are clear, except during the height of the rains.
[49] This is, no doubt, due partly to the Teesta flowing south, and
thus having less of the sun, and partly to its draining snowy
mountains throughout a much longer portion of its course. The
temperature of the one was 67·5°, and that of the other 60·5°.
From this place we returned to Dorjiling, arriving on the afternoon of
the following day.
The most interesting trip to be made from Dorjiling, is that to the
summit of Tonglo, a mountain on the Singalelah range, 10,079 feet high,
due west of the station, and twelve miles in a straight line, but fully
thirty by the path.[50]
[50] A full account of the botanical features noticed on this
excursion (which I made in May, 1848, with Mr. Barnes) has appeared in
the “London Journal of Botany,” and the “Horticultural Society’s
Journal,” and I shall, therefore, recapitulate its leading incidents
only.
Leaving the station by a native path, the latter plunges at once into a
forest, and descends very rapidly, occasionally emerging on cleared
spurs, where are fine crops of various millets, with much maize and
rice. Of the latter grain as many as eight or ten varieties are
cultivated, but seldom irrigated, which, owing to the dampness of the
climate, is not necessary: the produce is often eighty-fold, but the
grain is large, coarse, reddish, and rather gelatinous when boiled.
After burning the timber, the top soil is very fertile for several
seasons, abounding in humus, below which is a stratum of stiff clay,
often of great thickness, produced by the disintegration of the
rocks;[51] the clay makes excellent bricks, and often contains nearly
30 per cent. of alumina.
[51] An analysis of the soil will be found in the Appendix.
At about 4000 feet the great bamboo (“Pao” Lepcha) abounds; it flowers
every year, which is not the case with all others of this genus, most
of which flower profusely over large tracts of country, once in a great
many years, and then die away; their place being supplied by seedlings,
which grow with immense rapidity. This well-known fact is not due, as
some suppose, to the life of the species being of such a duration, but
to favourable circumstances in the season. The Pao attains a height of
40 to 60 feet, and the culms average in thickness the human thigh; it
is used for large water-vessels, and its leaves form admirable thatch,
in universal use for European houses at Dorjiling. Besides this, the
Lepchas are acquainted with nearly a dozen kinds of bamboo; these occur
at various elevations below 12,000 feet, forming, even in the
pine-woods, and above their zone, in the skirts of the _Rhododendron_
scrub, a small and sometimes almost impervious jungle. In an economical
point of view they maybe classed as those which split readily, and
those which do not. The young shoots of several are eaten, and the
seeds of one are made into a fermented drink, and into bread in times
of scarcity; but it would take many pages to describe the numerous
purposes to which the various species are put.
[Illustration: Lepcha water-carrier with a bamboo chungi]
Gordonia is their most common tree (_G. Wallichii_), much prized for
ploughshares and other purposes requiring a hard wood: it is the
“Sing-brang-kun” of the Lepchas, and ascends to 4000 feet. Oaks at this
elevation occur as solitary trees, of species different from those of
Dorjiling. There are three or four with a cup-shaped involucre, and
three with spinous involucres enclosing an eatable sweet nut; these
generally grow on a dry clayey soil.
Some low steep spurs were well cultivated, though the angle of the
field was upwards of 25°; the crops, chiefly maize, were just
sprouting. This plant is occasionally hermaphrodite in Sikkim, the
flowers forming a large drooping panicle and ripening small grains; it
is, however, a rare occurrence, and the specimens are highly valued by
the people.
The general prevalence of figs,[52] and their allies, the nettles,[53]
is a remarkable feature in the botany of the Sikkim Himalaya, up to
nearly 10,000 feet. Of the former there were here five species, some
bearing eatable and very palatable fruit of enormous size, others with
the fruit small and borne on prostrate, leafless branches, which spring
from the root and creep along the ground.
[52] One species of this very tropical genus ascends almost to 9000
feet on the outer ranges of Sikkim.
[53] Of two of these cloth is made, and of a third, cordage. The tops
of two are eaten, as are several species of _Procris._ The “Poa”
belongs to this order, yielding that kind of grass cloth fibre, now
abundantly imported into England from the Malay Islands, and used
extensively for shirting.
A troublesome, dipterous insect (the “Peepsa,” a species of
_Siamulium_) swarms on the banks of the streams; it is very small and
black, floating like a speck before the eye; its bite leaves a spot of
extravasated blood under the cuticle, very irritating if not opened.
Crossing the Little Rungeet river, we camped on the base of Tonglo. The
night was calm and clear, with faint cirrus, but no dew. A thermometer
sunk two feet in rich vegetable mould stood at 78° two hours after it
was lowered, and the same on the following morning. This probably
indicates the mean temperature of the month at that spot, where,
however, the dark colour of the exposed loose soil must raise the
temperature considerably.
_May 20th._—The temperature at sunrise was 67°; the morning bright, and
clear over head, but the mountains looked threatening. Dorjiling,
perched on a ridge 5000 feet above us, had a singular appearance. We
ascended the Simonbong spur of Tonglo, so called from a small village
and Lama temple of that name on its summit; where we arrived at noon,
and passing some chaits[54] gained the Lama’s residence.
[54] The chait of Sikkim, borrowed from Tibet, is a square pedestal,
surmounted with a hemisphere, the convex end downwards, and on it is
placed a cone, with a crescent on the top. These are erected as tombs
to Lamas, and as monuments to illustrious persons, and are venerated
accordingly, the people always passing them from left to right, often
repeating the invocation, “Ora Mani Padmi om.”
Two species of bamboo, the “Payong” and “Praong” of the Lepchas, here
replace the Pao of the lower regions. The former was flowering
abundantly, the whole of the culms (which were 20 feet high) being a
diffuse panicle of inflorescence. The “Praong” bears a round head of
flowers at the ends of the leafy branches. Wild strawberry, violet,
geranium, etc., announced our approach to the temperate zone. Around
the temple were potato crops and peach-trees, rice, millet, yam,
brinjal (egg-apple), fennel, hemp (for smoking its narcotic leaves),
and cummin, etc. The potato thrives extremely well as a summer crop, at
7000 feet, in Sikkim, though I think the root (from the Dorjiling
stock) cultivated as a winter crop in the plains, is superior both in
size and flavour. Peaches never ripen in this part of Sikkim,
apparently from the want of sun; the tree grows well at from 3000 to
7000 feet elevation, and flowers abundantly; the fruit making the
nearest approach to maturity (according to the elevation) from July to
October. At Dorjiling it follows the English seasons, flowering in
March and fruiting in September, when the scarce reddened and still
hard fruit falls from the tree. In the plains of India, both this and
the plum ripen in May, but the fruits are very acid.
It is curious that throughout this temperate region, there is hardly an
eatable fruit except the native walnut, and some brambles, of which the
“yellow” and “ground raspberry” are the best, some insipid figs, and a
very austere crab-apple. The European apple will scarcely ripen,[55]
and the pear not at all. Currants and gooseberries show no disposition
to thrive, and strawberries are the only fruits that ripen at all,
which they do in the greatest abundance. Vines, figs, pomegranates,
plums, apricots, etc., will not succeed even as trees. European
vegetables again grow, and thrive remarkably well throughout the summer
of Dorjiling, and the produce is very fair, sweet and good, but
inferior in flavour to the English.
[55] This fruit, and several others, ripen at Katmandoo, in Nepal
(alt. 4000 feet), which place enjoys more sunshine than Sikkim. I
have, however, received very differedt accounts of the produce, which,
on the whole, appears to be inferior.
Of tropical fruits cultivated below 4000 feet, oranges and indifferent
bananas alone are frequent, with lemons of various kinds. The season
for these is, however, very short; though that of the plantain might
with care be prolonged; oranges abound in winter, and are excellent,
but neither so large nor free of white pulp as those of the Khasia
hills, the West Indies, or the west coast of Africa. Mangos are brought
from the plains, for though wild in Sikkim, the cultivated kinds do not
thrive; I have seen the pine-apple plant, but I never met with good
fruit on it.
A singular and almost total absence of the light, and of the direct
rays of the sun in the ripening season, is the cause of this dearth of
fruit. Both the farmer and orchard gardener in England know full well
the value of a bright sky as well as of a warm autumnal atmosphere.
Without this corn does not ripen, and fruit-trees are blighted. The
winter of the plains of India being more analogous in its distribution
of moisture and heat to a European summer, such fruits as the peach,
vine, and even plum, fig, strawberry, etc., may be brought to bear well
in March, April, and May, if they are only carefully tended through the
previous hot and damp season, which is, in respect to the functions of
flowering and fruiting, their winter.
Hence it appears that, though some English fruits will turn the winter
solstice of Bengal (November to May) into summer, and then flower and
fruit, neither these nor others will thrive in the summer of 7000 feet
on the Sikkim Himalaya, (though its temperature so nearly approaches
that of England,) on account of its rain and fogs. Further, they are
often exposed to a winter’s cold equal to the average of that of
London, the snow lying for a week on the ground, and the thermometer
descending to 25°. It is true that in no case is the extreme of cold so
great here as in England, but it is sufficient to check vegetation, and
to prevent fruit-trees from flowering till they are fruiting in the
plains. There is in this respect a great difference between the climate
of the central and eastern and western Himalaya, at equal elevations.
In the western (Kumaon, etc.) the winters are colder than in Sikkim—the
summers warmer and less humid. The rainy season is shorter, and the sun
shines so much more frequently between the heavy showers, that the
apple and other fruits are brought to a much better state. It is true
that the rain-gauge may show as great a fall there, but this is no
measure of the humidity of the atmosphere, and still less so of the
amount of the sun’s direct light and heat intercepted by aqueous
vapour, for it takes no account of the quantity of moisture suspended
in the air, nor of the depositions from fogs, which are far more fatal
to the perfecting of fruits than the heaviest brief showers. The Indian
climate, which is marked by one season of excessive humidity and the
other of excessive drought, can never be favourable to the production
either of good European or tropical fruits. Hence there is not one of
the latter peculiar to the country, and perhaps but one which arrives
at full perfection; namely, the mango. Tile plantains, oranges, and
pine-apples are less abundant, of inferior kinds, and remain a shorter
season in perfection than they do in South America, the West Indies, or
Western Africa.
[Illustration: Lepcha amulet]