Leave Dorjiling for Calcutta—Jung Bahadoor—Dr. Falconer—Improvements in
Botanic Gardens—Palmetum—Victoria—_Amherstia_—Orchids spread by
seed—Banyan—_Cycas_—Importation of American plants in ice—Return to
Dorjiling—Leave with Dr. Thomson for the Khasia mountains—Mahanuddy
river—Vegetation of banks—Maldah—Alligators—Rampore-Bauleah—Climate of
Ganges—Pubna—Jummul river—Altered course of Burrampooter and
Megna—Dacca—Conch shells—Saws—Cotton
muslins—Fruit—Vegetation—Elevation—Rose of Bengal—Burrampooter—Delta of
Soormah river—Jheels—Soil—Vegetation—Navigation—Mosquitos—Atmospheric
pressure—Effects of geological changes—Imbedding of plants—Teelas or
islets—Chattuc—Salubrious climate—Rains—Canoes—Pundua—Mr. Harry
Inglis—Terrya Ghat—Ascent to Churra—Scenery and vegetation at foot of
mountains—Cascades.
I was chiefly occupied during January and February of 1850, in
arranging and transmitting my collections to Calcutta, and completing
my manuscripts, maps, and surveys. My friend Dr. Thomson having joined
me here, for the purpose of our spending a year in travelling and
botanising together, it became necessary to decide on the best field
for our pursuits. Bhotan offered the most novelty, but it was
inaccessible to Europeans; and we therefore turned our thoughts to
Nepal, and failing that, to the Khasia mountains.
The better to expedite our arrangements, I made a trip to Calcutta in
March, where I expected to meet both Lord Dalhousie, on his return from
the Straits of Malacca, and Jung Bahadoor (the Nepalese minister), who
was then _en route_ as envoy to England. I staid at Government House,
where every assistance was afforded me towards obtaining the Nepal
Rajah’s permission to proceed through the Himalaya from Dorjiling to
Katmandu. Jung Bahadoor received me with much courtesy, and expressed
his great desire to serve me; but begged me to wait until his return
from England, as he could not be answerable for my personal safety when
travelling during his absence; and he referred to the permission he had
formerly given me (and such was never before accorded to any European)
in earnest of his disposition, which was unaltered. We therefore
determined upon spending the season of 1850 in the Khasia mountains in
eastern Bengal, at the head of the great delta of the Ganges and
Burrampooter.
[Illustration: Dr. Falconer’s residence, Calcutta Botanic Gardens,
from Sir L. Peel’s grounds]
I devoted a few days to the Calcutta Botanic Gardens, where I found my
kind friend Dr. Falconer established, and very busy. The destruction of
most of the palms, and of all the noble tropical features of the
gardens, during Dr. Griffith’s incumbency, had necessitated the
replanting of the greater part of the grounds, the obliteration of old
walks, and the construction of new: it was also necessary to fill up
tanks whose waters, by injudicious cuttings, were destroying some of
the most valuable parts of the land, to drain many acres, and to raise
embankments to prevent the encroachments of the Hoogly: the latter
being a work attended with great expense, now cripples the resources of
the garden library, and other valuable adjuncts; for the trees which
were planted for the purpose having been felled and sold, it became
necessary to buy timber at an exorbitant price.
The avenue of Cycas trees (_Cycas circinalis_), once the admiration of
all visitors, and which for beauty and singularity was unmatched in any
tropical garden, had been swept away by the same unsparing hand which
had destroyed the teak, mahogany, clove, nutmeg, and cinnamon groves.
In 1847, when I first visited the establishment, nothing was to be seen
of its former beauty and grandeur, but a few noble trees or graceful
palms rearing their heads over a low ragged jungle, or spreading their
broad leaves or naked limbs over the forlorn hope of a botanical
garden, that consisted of open clay beds, disposed in concentric
circles, and baking into brick under the fervid heat of a Bengal sun.
The rapidity of growth is so great in this climate, that within eight
months from the commencement of the improvements, a great change had
already taken place. The grounds bore a park-like appearance; broad
shady walks had replaced the narrow winding paths that ran in distorted
lines over the ground, and a large Palmetum, or collection of tall and
graceful palms of various kinds, occupied several acres at one side of
the garden; whilst a still larger portion of ground was being
appropriated to a picturesque assemblage of certain closely allied
families of plants, whose association promised to form a novel and
attractive object of study to the botanist, painter, and landscape
gardener. This, which the learned Director called in scientific
language a Thamno-Endogenarium, consists of groups of all kinds of
bamboos, tufted growing palms, rattan canes (_Calami_), _Dracænæ,_
plantains, screw-pines, (_Pandani_), and such genera of tropical
monocotyledonous plants. All are evergreens of most vivid hue, some of
which, having slender trailing stems, form magnificent masses; others
twine round one another, and present impenetrable hillocks of green
foliage; whilst still others shoot out broad long wavy leaves from
tufted roots; and a fourth class is supported by aerial roots,
diverging on all sides and from all heights on the stems, every branch
of which is crowned with an enormous plume of grass-like leaves.[333]
[333] Since I left India, these improvements have been still further
carried out, and now (in the spring of 1853) I read of five splendid
_Victoria_ plants flowering at once, with _Euryale ferox,_ white,
blue, and red water-lilies, and white, yellow and scarlet lotus,
rendering the tanks gorgeous, sunk as their waters are in frames of
green grass, ornamented with clumps of _Nipa fruticans_ and _Phœnix
paludosa._
The great _Amherstia_ tree had been nearly killed by injudicious
treatment, and the baking of the soil above its roots. This defect was
remedied by sinking bamboo pipes four feet and a half in the earth, and
watering through them—a plan first recommended by Major M`Farlane of
Tavoy. Some fine _Orchideæ_ were in flower in the, gardens, but few of
them fruit; and those _Dendrobiums_ which bear axillary viviparous buds
never do. Some of the orchids appear to be spread by birds amongst the
trees; but the different species of _Vanda_ are increasing so fast,
that there seems no doubt that this tribe of air-plants grows freely
from seed in a wild state, though we generally fail to rear them in
England.
The great Banyan tree (_Ficus Indica_) is still the pride and ornament
of the garden. Dr. Falconer has ascertained satisfactorily that it is
only seventy-five years old: annual rings, size, etc., afford no
evidence in such a case, but people were alive a few years ago who
remembered well its site being occupied in 1782 by a Kujoor
(Date-palm), out of whose crown the Banyan sprouted, and beneath which
a Fakir sat. It is a remarkable fact that the banyan hardly ever
vegetates on the ground; but its figs are eaten by birds, and the seeds
deposited in the crowns of palms, where they grow, sending down roots
that embrace and eventually kill the palm, which decays away. This tree
is now eighty feet high, and throws an area 300 feet[334] in diameter
into a dark, cool shade. The gigantic limbs spread out about ten feet
above the ground, and from neglect during Dr. Wallich’s absence, there
were on Dr. Falconer’s arrival no more than eighty-nine descending
roots or props; there are now several hundreds, and the growth of this
grand mass of vegetation is proportionably stimulated and increased.
The props are induced to sprout by wet clay and moss tied to the
branches, beneath which a little pot of water is hung, and after they
have made some progress, they are inclosed in bamboo tubes, and so
coaxed down to the ground. They are mere slender whip-cords before
reaching the earth, where they root, remaining very lax for several
months; but gradually, as they grow and swell to the size of cables,
they tighten, and eventually become very tense. This is a curious
phenomenon, and so rapid, that it appears to be due to the rooting part
mechanically dragging down the aerial. The branch meanwhile continues
to grow outwards, and being supplied by its new support, thickens
beyond it, whence the props always slant outwards from the ground
towards the circumference of the tree.
[334] Had this tree been growing in 1849 over the great palm-stove at
Kew, only thirty feet of each end of that vast structure would have
been uncovered: its increase was proceeding so rapidly, that by this
time it could probably cover the whole. Larger banyans are common in
Bengal; but few are so symmetrical in shape and height. As the tree
gets old, it breaks up into separate masses, the original trunk
decaying, and the props becoming separate trunks of the different
portions.
_Cycas_ trees abound in the gardens, and, though generally having only
one, or rarely two crowns, they have sometimes sixteen, and their stems
are everywhere covered with leafy buds, which are developed on any
check being given to the growth of the plant, as by the operation of
transplantation, which will cause as many as 300 buds to appear in the
course of a few years, on a trunk eight feet high.
During my stay at the gardens, Dr. Falconer received a box of living
plants packed in moss, and transported in a frozen state by one of the
ice ships from North America:[335] they left in November, and arriving
in March, I was present at the opening of the boxes, and saw 391 plants
(the whole contents) taken out in the most perfect state. They were
chiefly fruit-trees, apples, pears, peaches, currants, and
gooseberries, with beautiful plants of the Venus’ fly-trap (_Dionæa
muscipula_). More perfect success never attended an experiment: the
plants were in vigorous bud, and the day after being released from
their icy bonds, the leaves sprouted and unfolded, and they were packed
in Ward’s cases for immediate transport to the Himalaya mountains.
[335] The ice from these ships is sold in the Calcutta market for a
penny a pound, to great profit; it has already proved an invaluable
remedy in cases of inflammation and fever, and has diminished
mortality to a very appreciable extent.
My visit to Calcutta enabled me to compare my instruments with the
standards at the Observatory, in which I was assisted by my friend,
Capt. Thuillier, to whose kind offices on this and many other occasions
I am greatly indebted.
I returned to Dorjiling on the 17th of April, and Dr. Thomson and I
commenced our arrangements for proceeding to the Khasia mountains. We
started on the 1st of May, and I bade adieu to Dorjiling with no light
heart; for I was leaving the kindest and most disinterested friends I
had ever made in a foreign land, and a country whose mountains,
forests, productions, and people had all become endeared to me by many
ties and associations. The prospects of Dorjiling itself are neither
doubtful nor insignificant. Whether or not Sikkim will fall again under
the protection of Britain, the station must prosper, and that very
speedily. I had seen both its native population and its European houses
doubled in two years; its salubrious climate, its scenery, and
accessibility, ensure it so rapid a further increase that it will
become the most populous hill-station in India. Strong prejudices
against a damp climate, and the complaints of loungers and idlers who
only seek pleasure, together with a groundless fear of the natives,
have hitherto retarded its progress; but its natural advantages will
outweigh these and all other obstacles.
I am aware that my opinion of the ultimate success of Dorjiling is not
shared by the general public of India, and must be pardoned for
considering their views in this matter short-sighted. With regard to
the disagreeables of its climate, I can sufficiently appreciate them,
and shall be considered by the residents to have over-estimated the
amount and constancy of mist, rain, and humidity, from the two seasons
I spent there being exceptional in these respects. Whilst on the one
hand I am willing to admit the probability of this,[336] I may be
allowed on the other to say that I have never visited any spot under
the sun, where I was not told that the season was exceptional, and
generally for the worse; added to which there is no better and equally
salubrious climate east of Nepal, accessible from Calcutta.
[336] I am informed that hardly a shower of rain has fallen this
season, between November 1852, and April 1853; and a very little snow
in February only.
All climates are comparative, and fixed residents naturally praise
their own. I have visited many latitudes, and can truly say that I have
found no two climates resembling each other, and that all alike are
complained of. That of Dorjiling is above the average in point of
comfort, and for perfect salubrity rivals any; while in variety,
interest, and grandeur, the scenery is unequalled.
From Sikkim to the Khasia mountains our course was by boat down the
Mahanuddy to the upper Gangetic delta, whose many branches we followed
eastwards to the Megna; whence we ascended the Soormah to the Silhet
district. We arrived at Kishengunj, on the Mahanuddy, on the 3rd of
May, and were delayed two days for our boat, which should have been
waiting here to take us to Berhampore on the Ganges: we were, however,
hospitably received by Mr. Perry’s family.
The approach of the rains was indicated by violent easterly storms of
thunder, lightning, and rain; the thermometer ranging from 70° to 85°.
The country around Kishengunj is flat and very barren; it is composed
of a deep sandy soil, covered with a short turf, now swarming with
cockchafers. Water is found ten or twelve feet below the surface, and
may be supplied by underground streams from the Himalaya, distant
forty-five miles. The river, which at this season is low, may be
navigated up to Titalya during the rains; its bed averages 60 yards in
width, and is extremely tortuous; the current is slight, and, though
shallow, the water is opaque. We slowly descended to Maldah, where we
arrived on the 11th: the temperature both of the water and of the air
increased rapidly to upwards of 90°; the former was always a few
degrees cooler than the air by day, and warmer by night. The atmosphere
became drier as we receded from the mountains.
The boatmen always brought up by the shore at night; and our progress
was so slow, that we could keep up with the boat when walking along the
bank. So long as the soil and river-bed continued sandy, few bushes or
herbs were to be found, and it was difficult to collect a hundred kinds
of plants in a day: gradually, however, clumps of trees appeared, with
jujube bushes, _Trophis, Acacia,_ and _Buddleia,_ a few fan-palms,
bamboos, and Jack-trees. A shell (_Anodon_) was the only one seen in
the river, which harboured few water-plants or birds, and neither
alligators nor porpoises ascend so high.
On the 7th of May, about eighty miles in a straight line from the foot
of the Himalaya, we found the stratified sandy banks, which had
gradually risen to a height of thirteen feet, replaced by the hard
alluvial clay of the Gangetic valley, which underlies the sand: the
stream contracted, and the features of its banks were materially
improved by a jungle of tamarisk, wormwood (_Artemisia_), and white
rose-bushes (_Rosa involucrata_), whilst mango trees became common,
with tamarinds, banyan, and figs. Date and _Caryota_ palms, and rattan
canes, grew in the woods, and parasitic Orchids on the trees, which
were covered with a climbing fern (_Acrosticum scandens_), so that we
easily doubled our flora of the river banks before arriving at Maldah.
This once populous town is, like Berhampore, now quite decayed, since
the decline of its silk and indigo trades: the staple product, called
“Maldy,” a mixture of silk and cotton, very durable, and which washes
well, now forms its only trade, and is exported through Sikkim to the
north-west provinces and Tibet. It is still famous for the size and
excellence of its mangos, which ripen late in May; but this year the
crop had been destroyed by the damp heats of spring, the usual
north-west dry winds not having prevailed.
The ruins of the once famous city of Gour, a few miles distant, are now
covered with jungle, and the buildings are fast disappearing, owing to
the bricks being carried away to be used elsewhere.
Below Maldah the river gets broader, and willow becomes common. We
found specimens of a _Planorbis_ in the mud of the stream, and saw
apparently a boring shell in the alluvium, but could not land to
examine it. Chalky masses of alligators’ droppings, like coprolites,
are very common, buried in the banks, which become twenty feet high at
the junction with the Ganges, where we arrived on the 14th. The waters
of this great river were nearly two degrees cooler than those of the
Mahanuddy.
Rampore-Bauleah is a large station on the north bank of the Ganges,
whose stream is at this season fully a mile wide, with a very slow
current; its banks are thirty feet above the water. We were most kindly
received by Mr. Bell, the collector of the district, to whom we were
greatly indebted for furthering us on our voyage: boats being very
difficult to procure, we were, however, detained here from the 16th to
the 19th. I was fortunate in being able to compare my barometers with a
first-rate standard instrument, and in finding no appreciable
alteration since leaving Calcutta in the previous April. The elevation
of the station is 130 feet above the sea, that of Kishengunj I made
131; so that the Gangetic valley is nearly a dead level for fully a
hundred miles north, beyond which it rises; Titalya, 150 miles to the
north, being 360 feet, and Siligoree, at the margin of the Terai,
rather higher. The river again falls more considerably than the land;
the Mahanuddy, at Kishengunj, being about twenty feet below the level
of the plains, or 110 above the sea; whereas the Ganges, at Rampore, is
probably not more than eighty feet, even when the water is highest.
The climate of Rampore is marked by greater extremes than that of
Calcutta: during our stay the temperature rose above 106°, and fell to
78° at night: the mean was 2·5° higher than at Calcutta, which is 126
miles further south. Being at the head of the Gangetic delta, which
points from the Sunderbunds obliquely to the north-west, it is much
damper than any locality further west, as is evidenced by two kinds of
_Calamus_ palm abounding, which do not ascend the Ganges beyond
Monghyr. Advancing eastwards, the dry north-west wind of the Gangetic
valley, which blows here in occasional gusts, is hardly felt; and
easterly winds, rising after the sun (or, in other words, following the
heating of the open dry country), blow down the great valley of the
Burrampooter, or south-easterly ones come up from the Bay of Bengal.
The western head of the Gangetic delta is thus placed in what are
called “the variables” in naval phraseology; but only so far as its
superficial winds are concerned, for its great atmospheric current
always blows from the Bay of Bengal, and flows over all northern India,
to the lofty regions of Central Asia.
At Rampore I found the temperature of the ground, at three feet depth,
varied from 87·8° to 89·8°, being considerably lower than that of the
air (94·2°), whilst that of a fine ripening shaddock, into which I
plunged a thermometer bulb, varied little from 81°, whether the sun
shone on it or not. From this place we made very slow progress
south-eastwards, with a gentle current, but against constant easterly
winds, and often violent gales and thunder-storms, which obliged us to
bring up under shelter of banks and islands of sand. Sometimes we
sailed along the broad river, whose opposite shores were rarely both
visible at once, and at others tracked the boat through narrow creeks
that unite the many Himalayan streams, and form a network soon after
leaving their mountain valleys.
A few miles beyond Pubna we passed from a narrow canal at once into the
main stream of the Burrampooter at Jaffergunj: our maps had led us to
expect that it flowed fully seventy miles to the eastward in this
latitude; and we were surprised to hear that within the last twenty
years the main body of that river had shifted its course thus far to
the westward. This alteration was not effected by the gradual working
westwards of the main stream, but by the old eastern channel so rapidly
silting up as to be now unnavigable; while the Jummul, which receives
the Teesta, and which is laterally connected by branches with the
Burrampooter, became consequently wider and deeper, and eventually the
principal stream.
Nothing can be more dreary and uninteresting than the scenery of this
part of the delta. The water is clay-coloured and turbid, always cooler
than the air, which again was 4° or 5° below that of Calcutta, with a
damper atmosphere. The banks are of stratified sand and mud, hardly
raised above the mean level of the country, and consequently unlike
those bordering most annually flooded rivers; for here the material is
so unstable, that the current yearly changes its course. A wiry grass
sometimes feebly binds the loose soil, on which there are neither
houses nor cultivation.
Ascending the Jummul (now the main channel of the Burrampooter) for a
few miles, we turned off into a narrower channel, sixty miles long,
which passes by Dacca, where we arrived on the 28th, and where we were
again detained for boats, the demand for which is rapidly increasing
with the extended cultivation of the Sunderbunds and Delta. We stayed
with Mr. Atherton, and botanised in the neighbourhood of the town,
which was once very extensive, and is still large, though not
flourishing. The population is mostly Mahometan; the site, though
beautiful and varied, is unhealthy for Europeans. Ruins of great
Moorish brick buildings still remain, and a Greek style of ornamenting
the houses prevails to a remarkable degree.
The manufacture of rings for the arms and ancles, from conch-shells
imported from the Malayan Archipelago, is still almost confined to
Dacca: the shells are sawn across for this purpose by semicircular
saws, the hands and toes being both actively employed in the operation.
The introduction of circular saws has been attempted by some European
gentlemen, but steadily resisted by the natives, despite their obvious
advantages. The Dacca muslin manufacture, which once employed thousands
of hands, is quite at an end, so that it was with great difficulty that
the specimens of these fabrics sent to the Great Exhibition of 1851,
were procured. The kind of cotton (which is very short in the staple)
employed, is now hardly grown, and scarcely a loom exists which is fit
for the finest fabrics. The jewellers still excel in gold and silver
filagree.
Pine-apples, plantains, mangos, and oranges, abound in the Dacca
market, betokening a better climate for tropical fruits than that of
Western Bengal; and we also saw the fruit of _Euryale ferox,_[337]
which is round, soft, pulpy, and the size of a small orange; it
contains from eight to fifteen round black seeds as large as peas,
which are full of flour, and are eaten roasted in India and China, in
which latter country the plant is said to have been in cultivation for
upwards of 3000 years.
[337] An Indian water-lily with a small red flower, covered everywhere
with prickles, and so closely allied to _Victoria regia_ as to be
scarcely generically distinguishable from it. It grows in the eastern
Sunderbunds, and also in Kashmir. The discoverer of Victoria called
the latter “_Euryale Amazonica._” These interestiug plants are growing
side by side in the new Victoria house at Kew. The Chinese species has
been erroneously considered different from the Indian one.
The native vegetation is very similar to that of the Hoogly, except
that the white rose is frequent here. The fact of a plant of this genus
being as common on the plains of Bengal as a dog-rose is in England,
and associated with cocoa-nuts, palms, mangos, plantains, and banyans,
has never yet attracted the attention of botanists, though the species
was described by Roxburgh. As a geographical fact it is of great
importance, for the rose is usually considered a northern genus, and no
kind but this inhabits a damp hot tropical climate. Even in mountainous
countries situated near the equator, as in the Himalaya and Andes, wild
roses are very rare, and only found at great elevations, whilst they
are unknown in the southern hemisphere. It is curious that this rose,
which is also a native of Birma and the Indian Peninsula, does not in
this latitude grow west of the meridian of 87°; it is confined to the
upper Gangetic delta, and inhabits a climate in which it would least of
all be looked for.
I made the elevation of Dacca by barometer only seventy-two feet above
the sea; and the banks of the Dallisary being high, the level of its
waters at this season is scarcely above that of the Bay of Bengal. The
mean temperature of the air was 86·75° during our stay, or half a
degree lower than Calcutta at the same period.
We pursued our voyage on the 30th of May, to the old bed of the
Burrampooter, an immense shallow sheet of water, of which the eastern
bank is for eighty miles occupied by the delta of the Soormah. This
river rises on the Munnipore frontier, and flows through Cachar,
Silhet, and the Jheels of east Bengal, receiving the waters of the
Cachar, Jyntea, Khasia, and Garrow mountains (which bound the Assam
valley to the south), and of the Tipperah hills, which stretch parallel
to them, and divide the Soormah valley from the Bay of Bengal. The
immense area thus drained by the Soormah is hardly raised above the
level of the sea, and covers about 10,000 square miles. The
anastomosing rivers that traverse it, flow very gently, and do not
materially alter their course; hence their banks gradually rise above
the mean level of the surrounding country, and on them the small
villages are built, surrounded by extensive rice-fields that need no
artificial irrigation. At this season the general surface of the Jheels
is marshy; but during the rains, which are excessive on the
neighbouring mountains, they resemble an inland sea, the water rising
gradually to within a few inches of the floor of the huts; as, however,
it subsides as slowly in autumn, it commits no devastation. The
communication is at all seasons by boats, in the management of which
the natives (chiefly Mahometans) are expert.
The want of trees and shrubs is the most remarkable feature of the
Jheels; in which respect they differ from the Sunderbunds, though the
other physical features of each are similar, the level being exactly
the same: for this difference there is no apparent cause, beyond the
influence of the tide and sea atmosphere. Long grasses of tropical
genera (_Saccharum, Donax, Andropogon,_ and _Rottbœllia_) ten feet
high, form the bulk of the vegetation, with occasional low bushes along
the firmer banks of the natural canals that everywhere intersect the
country; amongst these the rattan cane (_Calamus_), rose, a laurel,
_Stravadium,_ and fig, are the most common; while beautiful convolvuli
throw their flowering shoots across the water.
The soil, which is sandy along the Burrampooter, is more muddy and
clayey in the centre of the Jheels, with immense spongy accumulations
of vegetable matter in the marshes, through which we poked the
boat-staves without finding bottom: they were for the most part formed
of decomposed grass roots, with occasionally leaves, but no quantity of
moss or woody plants. Along the courses of the greater streams drift
timber and various organic fragments are no doubt imbedded, but as
there is no current over the greater part of the flooded surface, there
can be little or no accumulation, except perhaps of old canoes, or of
such vegetables as grow on the spot. The waters are dark-coloured, but
clear and lucid, even at their height.
We proceeded up the Burrampooter, crossing it obliquely; its banks were
on the average five miles apart, and formed of sand, without clay, and
very little silt or mud: the water was clear and brown, like that of
the Jheels, and very different from that of the Jummul. We thence
turned eastwards into the delta of the Soormah, which we traversed in a
north-easterly direction to the stream itself. We often passed through
very narrow channels, where the grasses towered over the boats: the
boatmen steered in and out of them as they pleased, and we were utterly
at a loss to know how they guided themselves, as they had neither
compass nor map, and there were few villages or landmarks; and on
climbing the mast we saw multitudes of other masts and sails peeing
over the grassy marshes, doing just the same as we did. All that go up
have the south-west wind in their favour, and this helps them to their
course, but beyond this they have no other guide but that instinct
which habit begets. Often we had to retreat from channels that promised
to prove short cuts, but which turned out to be blind alleys. Sometimes
we sailed up broader streams of chesnut-brown water, accompanied by
fleets of boats repairing to the populous districts at the foot of the
Khasia, for rice, timber, lime, coal, bamboos, and long reeds for
thatching, all of which employ an inland navy throughout the year in
their transport to Calcutta.
Leeches and mosquitos were very troublesome, the latter appearing in
clouds at night; during the day they were rarer, but the species was
the same. A large cray-fish was common, but there were few birds and no
animals to be seen.
Fifty-four barometric observations, taken at the level of the water on
the voyage between Dacca and the Soormah, and compared with Calcutta,
showed a gradual rise of the mercury in proceeding eastwards; for
though the pressure at Calcutta was ·055 of an inch higher than at
Dacca, it was ·034 lower than on the Soormah: the mean difference
between all these observations and the contemporaneous ones at Calcutta
was +·003 in favour of Calcutta, and the temperature half a degree
lower; the dew-point and humidity were nearly the same at both places.
This being the driest season of the year, it is very probable that the
mean level of the water at this part of the delta is not higher than
that of the Bay of Bengal; but as we advanced northwards towards the
Khasia, and entered the Soormah itself, the atmospheric pressure
increased further, thus appearing to give the bed of that stream a
depression of thirty-five feet below the Bay of Bengal, into which it
flows! This was no doubt the result of unequal atmospheric pressure at
the two localities, caused by the disturbance of the column of
atmosphere by the Khasia mountains; for in December of the same year,
thirty-eight observations on the surface of the Soormah made its bed
forty-six feet _above_ the Bay of Bengal, whilst, from twenty-three
observations on the Megna, the pressure only differed +0·020 of an inch
from that of the barometer at Calcutta, which is eighteen feet above
the sea-level.
These barometric levellings, though far from satisfactory as compared
with trigonometric, are extremely interesting in the absence of the
latter. In a scientific point of view nothing has been done towards
determining the levels of the land and waters of the great Gangetic
delta, since Rennell’s time, yet no geodetical operation promises more
valuable results in geography and physical geology than running three
lines of level across its area; from Chittagong to Calcutta, from
Silhet to Rampore, and from Calcutta to Silhet. The foot of the Sikkim
Himalaya has, I believe, been connected with Calcutta by the great
trigonometrical survey, but I am given to understand that the results
are not published.
My own barometric levellings would make the bed of the Mahanuddy and
Ganges at the western extremity of the delta, considerably higher than
I should have expected, considering how gentle the current is, and that
the season was that of low water. If my observations are correct, they
probably indicate a diminished pressure, which is not easily accounted
for, the lower portion of the atmospheric column at Rampore being
considerably drier and therefore heavier than at Calcutta. At the
eastern extremity again, towards Silhet, the atmosphere is much damper
than at Calcutta, and the barometer should therefore have stood lower,
indicating a higher level of the waters than is the case.
To the geologist the Jheels and Sunderbunds are a most instructive
region, as whatever may be the mean elevation of their waters, a
permanent depression of ten to fifteen feet would submerge an immense
tract, which the Ganges, Burrampooter, and Soormah would soon cover
with beds of silt and sand. There would be extremely few shells in the
beds thus formed, the southern and northern divisions of which would
present two very different floras and faunas, and would in all
probability be referred by future geologists to widely different
epochs. To the north, beds of peat would be formed by grasses, and in
other parts, temperate and tropical forms of plants and animals would
be preserved in such equally balanced proportions as to confound the
palæontologist; with the bones of the long-snouted alligator, Gangetic
porpoise, Indian cow, buffalo, rhinoceros, elephant, tiger, deer, boar;
and a host of other animals, he would meet with acorns of several
species of oak, pine-cones and magnolia fruits, rose seeds, and _Cycas_
nuts, with palm nuts, screw-pines, and other tropical productions. On
the other hand, the Sunderbunds portion, though containing also the
bones of the tiger, deer, and buffalo, would have none of the Indian
cow, rhinoceros, or elephant; there would be different species of
porpoise, alligator, and deer, and none of the above mentioned plants
(_Cycas,_ oak, pine, magnolia and rose), which would be replaced by
numerous others, all distinct from those of the Jheels, and many of
them indicative of the influence of salt water, whose proximity (from
the rarity of sea-shells) might not otherwise be suspected.
[Illustration: View in the Jheels]
On the 1st of June we entered the Soormah, a full and muddy stream
flowing west, a quarter of a mile broad, with banks of mud and clay
twelve or fifteen feet high, separating it from marshes, and covered
with betel-nut and cocoa-nut palms, figs, and banyans. Many small
villages were scattered along the banks, each with a swarm of boats,
and rude kilns for burning the lime brought from the Khasia mountains,
which is done with grass and bushes. We ascended to Chattuc, against a
gentle current, arriving on the 9th.
From this place the Khasia mountains are seen as a long table-topped
range running east and west, about 4000 to 5000 feet high, with steep
faces towards the Jheels, out of which they appear to rise abruptly.
Though twelve miles distant, large waterfalls are very clearly seen
precipitating themselves over the cliffs into a bright green mass of
foliage, that seems to creep half way up their flanks. The nearly
horizontal arrangement of the strata is as conspicuous here, as in the
sandstone of the Kymore hills in the Soane valley, which these
mountains a good deal resemble; but they are much higher, and the
climate is widely different. Large valleys enter the hills, and are
divided by hog-backed spurs, and it is far within these valleys that
the waterfalls and precipices occur; but the nearer and further cliffs
being thrown by perspective into one range, they seem to rise out of
the Jheels so abruptly as to remind one of some precipitous island in
the ocean.
Chattuc is mainly indebted for its existence to the late Mr. Inglis,
who resided there for upwards of sixty years, and opened a most
important trade between the Khasia and Calcutta in oranges, potatos,
coal, lime, and timber. We were kindly received by his son, whose
bungalow occupies a knoll, of which there are several, which attracted
our attention as being the only elevations fifty feet high which we had
ascended since leaving the foot of the Sikkim Himalaya. They rise as
islets (commonly called Teela, Beng.) out of the Jheels, within twelve
to twenty miles of the Khasia; they are chiefly formed of stratified
gravel and sand, and are always occupied by villages and large trees.
They seldom exceed sixty feet in height, and increase in number and
size as the hills are approached; they are probably the remains of a
deposit that was once spread uniformly along the foot of the mountains,
and they in all respects resemble those I have described as rising
abruptly from the plains near Titalya (see vol. i. p. 382).
The climate of Chattuc is excessively damp and hot throughout the year,
but though sunk amid interminable swamps, the place is perfectly
healthy! Such indeed is the character of the climate throughout the
Jheels, where fevers and agues are rare; and though no situations can
appear more malarious to the common observer than Silhet and Cachar,
they are in fact eminently salubrious. These facts admit of no
explanation in the present state of our knowledge of endemic diseases.
Much may be attributed to the great amount and purity of the water, the
equability of the climate, the absence of forests and of sudden changes
from wet to dry; but such facts afford no satisfactory explanation. The
water, as I have above said, is of a rich chesnut-brown in the narrow
creeks of the Jheels, and is golden yellow by transmitted light, owing
no doubt, as in bog water and that of dunghills, to a vegetable
extractive and probably the presence of carburetted hydrogen. Humboldt
mentions this dark-coloured water as prevailing in some of the swamps
of the Cassiquares, at the junction of the Orinoco and Amazon, and
gives much curious information on its accompanying features of animal
and vegetable life.
The rains generally commence in May: they were unusually late this
year, though the almost daily gales and thunder-storms we experienced,
foretold their speedy arrival. From May till October they are
unremitting, and the country is under water, the Soormah rising about
fifty feet. North-easterly winds prevail, but they are a local current
reflected from the Khasia, against which the southerly perennial
trade-wind impinges. Westerly winds are very rare, but the dry
north-west blasts of India have been known to traverse the delta and
reach this meridian, in one or two short hot dry puffs during March and
April. Hoarfrost is unknown.[338]
[338] It however forms further south, at the very mouth of the Megna,
and is the effect of intense radiation when the thermometer in the
shade falls to 45°.
China roses and tropical plants (_Bignoniæ, Asclepiadeæ,_ and
_Convolvuli_) rendered Mr. Inglis’ bungalow gay, but little else will
grow in the gardens. Pine-apples are the best fruit, and oranges from
the foot of the Khasia: plantains ripen imperfectly, and the mango is
always acid, attacked by grubs, and having a flavour of turpentine. The
violent hailstorms of the vernal equinox cut both spring and cold
season flowers and vegetables, and the rains destroy all summer
products. The soil is a wet clay, in which some European vegetables
thrive well if planted in October or November. We were shown marrowfat
peas that had been grown for thirty years without degenerating in size,
but their flavour was poor.
Small long canoes, paddled rapidly by two men, were procured here,
whereby to ascend the narrow rivers that lead up to the foot of the
mountains: they each carry one passenger, who lies along the bottom,
protected by a bamboo platted arched roof. We started at night, and
early the next morning arrived at Pundua,[339] where there is a
dilapidated bungalow: the inhabitants are employed in the debarkation
of lime, coal, and potatos. Large fleets of boats crowded the narrow
creeks, some of the vessels being of several tons burden.
[339] Pundua, though an insignificant village, surrounded by swamps,
has enjoyed an undue share of popularity as a botanical region. Before
the geographical features of the country north of Silhet were known,
the plants brought from those hills by native collectors were sent to
the Calcutta garden (and thence to Europe) as from Pundua. Hence
Silhet mountains and Pundua mountains, both very erroneous terms, are
constantly met with in botanical works, and generally refer to plants
growing in the Khasia mountains.
Elephants were kindly sent here for us by Mr. H. Inglis, to take us to
the foot of the mountains, about three miles distant, and relays of
mules and ponies to ascend to Churra, where we were received with the
greatest hospitality by that gentleman, who entertained us till the end
of June, and procured us servants and collectors. To his kind offices
we were also indebted throughout our travels in the Khasia, for much
information, and for facilities and necessaries of all kinds: things in
which the traveller is more dependent on his fellow countrymen in
India, than in any other part of the world.
We spent two days at Pundua, waiting for our great boats (which drew
several feet of water), and collecting in the vicinity. The old
bungalow, without windows and with the roof falling in, was a most
miserable shelter; and whichever way we turned from the door, a river
or a swamp lay before us. Birds, mosquitos, leeches, and large wasps
swarmed, also rats and sandflies. A more pestilential hole cannot be
conceived; and yet people traverse this district, and sleep here at all
seasons of the year with impunity. We did so ourselves in the month of
June, when the Sikkim and all other Terais are deadly: we returned in
September, traversing the Jheels and nullahs at the very foot of the
hills during a short break of fine weather in the middle of the rains;
and we again slept here in November,[340] always exposed in the heat of
the day to wet and fatigue, and never having even a _soupçon_ of fever,
ague, or rheumatism. This immunity does not, however, extend to the
very foot of the hills, as it is considered imprudent to sleep at this
season in the bungalow of Terrya, only three miles off.
[340] At the north foot of the Khasia, in the heavily timbered dry
Terai stretching for sixty miles to the Burrampooter, it is almost
inevitable death for a European to sleep, any time between the end of
April and of November. Many have crossed that tract, but not one
without taking fever: Mr. H. Inglis was the only survivor of a party
of five, and he was ill from the effects for upwards of two years,
after having been brought to death’s door by the first attack, which
came on within three weeks of his arrival at Churra, and by several
relapses.
The elevation of Pundua bungalow is about forty feet above the sea, and
that of the waters surrounding it, from ten to thirty, according to the
season. In June the mean of the barometer readings at the bungalow was
absolutely identical with that of the Calcutta barometer, In September
it was 0·016 inch lower, and in November 0·066 lower. The mean annual
temperature throughout the Jheels is less than 2° below that of
Calcutta.
Terrya bungalow lies at the very foot of the first rise of the
mountains; on the way we crossed many small streams upon the elephants,
and one large one by canoes: the water in all was cool[341] and
sparkling, running rapidly over boulders and pebbles. Their banks of
sandy clay were beautifully fringed with a willow-like laurel,
_Ehretia_ bushes, bamboos, palms, _Bauhinia, Bombax,_ and _Erythrina,_
over which _Calamus_ palm (rattan) and various flowering plants
climbed. The rock at Terrya is a nummulitic limestone, worn into
extensive caverns. This formation is said to extend along the southern
flank of the Khasia, Garrow, and Jyntea mountains, and to be associated
with sandstone and coal: it is extensively quarried in many places,
several thousand tons being annually shipped for Calcutta and Dacca. It
is succeeded by a horizontally stratified sandstone, which is continued
up to 4000 feet, where it is overlain by coal-beds and then by
limestone again.
[341] Temperature in September 77° to 80°; and in November 75·7°.
The sub-tropical scenery of the lower and outer Sikkim Himalaya, though
on a much more gigantic scale, is not comparable in beauty and
luxuriance with the really tropical vegetation induced by the hot,
damp, and insular climate of these perennially humid mountains. At the
Himalaya forests of gigantic trees, many of them deciduous, appear from
a distance as masses of dark gray foliage, clothing mountains 10,000
feet high: here the individual trees are smaller, more varied in kind,
of a brilliant green, and contrast with gray limestone and red
sandstone rocks and silvery cataracts. Palms are more numerous
here;[342] the cultivated _Areca_ (betel-nut) especially, raising its
graceful stem and feathery crown, “like an arrow shot down from
heaven,” in luxuriance and beauty above the verdant slopes. This
difference is at once expressed to the Indian botanist by defining the
Khasia flora as of Malayan character; by which is meant the prevalence
of brilliant glossy-leaved evergreen tribes of trees (as _Euphorbiaceæ_
and _Urticeæ_), especially figs, which abound in the hot gulleys, where
the property of their roots, which inosculate and form natural grafts,
is taken advantage of in bridging streams, and in constructing what are
called living bridges, of the most picturesque forms. _Combretaceæ,_
oaks, oranges, _Garcinia_ (gamboge), _Diospyros,_ figs, Jacks,
plantains, and _Pandanus,_ are more frequent here, together with
pinnated leaved _Leguminosæ, Meliaceæ,_ vines and peppers, and above
all palms, both climbing ones with pinnated shining leaves (as
_Calamus_ and _Plectocomia_), and erect ones with similar leaves (as
cultivated cocoa-nut, _Areca_ and _Arenga_), and the broader-leaved
wild betel-nut, and beautiful _Caryota_ or wine-palm, whose immense
decompound leaves are twelve feet long. Laurels and wild nutmegs, with
_Henslowia, Itea,_ etc., were frequent in the forest, with the usual
prevalence of parasites, mistleto, epiphytical _Orchideæ, Æshynanthus,_
ferns, mosses, and _Lycopodia_; and on the ground were _Rubiaceæ,
Scitamineæ,_ ferns, _Acanthaceæ,_ beautiful balsams, and herbaceous and
shrubby nettles. Bamboos[343] of many kinds are very abundant, and
these hills further differ remarkably from those of Sikkim in the great
number of species of grasses.
[342] There are upwards of twenty kinds of Palm in this district,
including _Chamærops,_ three species of _Areca,_ two of _Wallichia,
Arenga, Caryota,_ three of _Phœnix, Plectocomia, Licuala,_ and many
species of _Calamus._ Besides these there are several kinds of
_Pandanus,_ and the _Cycas pectinata._
[343] The natives enumerate about fourteen different kinds of bamboo,
of which we found five in flower, belonging to three very distinct
genera. Uspar, Uspet, Uspit, Usken, Uskong, Uktang, Usto, Silee,
Namlang, Tirra, and Battooba are some of the names of Bamboos vouched
for by Mr. Inglis as correctly spelt. Of other Khasia names of plants,
Wild Plantains are called Kairem, and the cultivated Kakesh; the
latter are considered so nourishing that they are given to newborn
infants. Senteo is a flower in Khas, So a fruit, Ading a tree, and Te
a leaf. _Pandanus_ is Kashelan. _Plectocomia,_ Usmole. _Licuala,_
Kuslow. _Caryota,_ Kalai-katang. _Wallichia,_ Kalai-nili. _Areca,_
Waisola. Various _Calami_ are Rhimet, Uriphin, Ureek hilla, Tindrio,
etc. This list will serve as a specimen; I might increase it
materially, but as I have elsewhere observed, the value attached to
the supposed definite application of native names to natural objects
is greatly over-rated, and too much reliance on them has introduced a
prodigious amount of confusion into scientific works and philological
inquiries.
The ascent was at first gradual, along the sides of a sandstone spur.
At 2000 feet the slope suddenly became steep and rocky, at 3000 feet
tree vegetation disappeared, and we opened a magnificent prospect of
the upper scarped flank of the valley of Moosmai, which we were
ascending, with four or five beautiful cascades rolling over the table
top of the hills, broken into silvery foam as they leapt from ledge to
ledge of the horizontally stratified precipice, and throwing a veil of
silver gauze over the gulf of emerald green vegetation, 2000 feet
below. The views of the many cataracts of the first class that are thus
precipitated over the bare table-land on which Churra stands, into the
valleys on either side, surpass anything of the kind that I have
elsewhere seen, though in many respects vividly recalling the scenery
around Rio de Janeiro: nor do I know any spot in the world more
calculated to fascinate the naturalist who, while appreciating the
elements of which a landscape is composed, is also keenly alive to the
beauty and grandeur of tropical scenery.
[Illustration: Living bridge formed of the aerial roots of the
india-rubber and other kinds of figs.]
At the point where this view opens, a bleak stony region commences,
bearing numberless plants of a temperate flora and of European genera,
at a comparatively low elevation; features which continue to the top of
the flat on which the station is built, 4000 feet above the sea.
[Illustration: Dewan’s ear-ring]