A very remarkable plant, which I had see_Himalayan Journals — Volume 2 Or, Notes of a Naturalist in Bengal, the Sikkim and Nepal Himalayas, the Khasia Mountains, etc.

valley, called "Loodoo-ma" by the Bhoteeas, and "Nomorchi" by

Lepchas, grew on the ridge at 7000 feet; it bears a yellow fruit like

short cucumbers, full of a soft, sweet, milky pulp, and large black

seeds; it belongs to a new genus,* [This genus, for which Dr. Thomson

and I, in our "Flora Indies," have proposed the name _Decaisnea_ (in

honour of my friend Professor J. Decaisne, the eminent French

botanist), has several straight, stick-like, erect branches from the

root, which bear spreading pinnated leaves, two feet long, standing

out horizontally. The flowers are uni-sexual, green, and in racemes,

and the fruits, of which two or three grow together, are about four

inches long, and one in diameter. All the other plants of the natural

order to which it belongs, are climbers.] allied to _Stauntonia,_ of

which two Himalayan kinds produce similar, but less agreeable edible

fruits ("Kole-pot," Lepcha). At Laghep, iris was abundant, and a

small bushy berberry (_B. concinna_) with oval eatable berries. The

north wall of the house (which was in a very exposed spot) was quite

bare, while the south was completely clothed with moss and weeds.

The rocks above Laghep were gneiss; below it, mica-schist, striking

north-west, and dipping north-east, at a high angle. A beautiful

yellow poppy-like plant grew in clefts at 10,000 feet; it has

flowered in England, from seeds which I sent home, and bears the name

of _Cathcartia._* [See "Botanical Magazine," for 1852. The name was

given in honour of the memory of my friend, the late J. F. Cathcart,

Esq., of the Bengal Civil Service. This gentleman was devoted to the

pursuit of botany, and caused a magnificent series of drawings of

Dorjiling plants to be made by native artists during his residence

there. This collection is now deposited at Kew, through the

liberality of his family, and it is proposed to publish a selection

from the plates, as a tribute to his memory. Mr. Cathcart, after the

expiration of his Indian service, returned to Europe, and died at

Lausanne on his way to England.]

We continued, on the following morning, in an easterly direction, up

the same narrow steep ridge, to a lofty eminence called Phieung-goong

(alt. 12,422 feet), from being covered with the Phieung, or small

bamboo. _Abies Webbiana_ begins here, and continues onwards, but, as

on Tonglo, Mainom, and the other outer wetter Sikkim ranges, there is

neither larch, _Pinus excelsa, Abies Smithiana,_ or _A. Brunoniana._

Hence we followed an oblique descent of 1,500 feet, to the bed of the

Rutto river, through thick woods of pines and _Rhododendron

Hodgsoni,_ which latter, on our again ascending, was succeeded by the

various alpine kinds. We halted at Barfonchen (alt. 11,233 feet), a

stone-but in the silver-fir forest. Some yaks were grazing in the

vicinity, and from their herdsman we learnt that the Dewan was at

Choombi, on the road to Yakla; he had kept wholly out of the way

during the summer, directing every unfriendly action to be pursued

towards myself and the government by the Amlah, consisting of his

brothers and relatives, whom he left at Tumloong.

The night was brilliant and starlight: the minimum thermometer fell

to 27 degrees, a strong north-east wind blew down the valley, and

there was a thick hoar-frost, with which the black yaks were drolly

powdered. The broad leaves of _R. Hodgsoni_ were curled, from the

expansion of the frozen fluid in the layer of cells on the upper

surface of the leaf, which is exposed to the greatest cold of

radiation. The sun restores them a little, but as winter advances,

they become irrecoverably cured, and droop at the ends of the

branches.

We left Barfonchen on the 7th November, and ascended the river, near

which we put up a woodcock. Emerging from the woods at Chumanako

(alt. 12,590 feet), where there is another stone hut, the mountains

become bleak, bare, and stony, and the rocks are all moutonneed by

ancient glaciers. At 13,000 feet the ground was covered with ice, and

all the streams were frozen. Crossing several rocky ledges, behind

which were small lakes, a gradual ascent led to the summit of the

Chola pass, a broad low depression, 14,925 feet above the sea, wholly

bare of snow.

Campbell had preceded me, and I found him conversing with some

Tibetans, who told him that there was no road hence to Yakla, and

that we should not be permitted to go to Choombi. As the Chinese

guard was posted in the neighbourhood, he accompanied one of the

Tibetans to see the commandant, whilst I remained taking

observations. The temperature was 33 degrees, with a violent, biting,

dry east wind. The rocks were gneiss, striking north-east, and

horizontal, or dipping north-west. The scanty vegetation consisted

chiefly of grass and _Sibbaldia._

In about an hour Meepo and some of my people came up and asked for

Campbell, for whom the Tchebu Lama was waiting below: the Lama had

remained at Rungpo, endeavouring to put matters on a better footing

with the Amlah. Wishing to see the Tibet guard myself, I accompanied

the two remaining Tibetans down a steep valley with cliffs on either

hand, for several hundred feet, when I was overtaken by some Sikkim

sepoys in red jackets, who wanted to turn me back forcibly: I was at

a loss to understand their conduct, and appealed to the Tibetan

sepoys, who caused them to desist. About 1000 feet down I found

Campbell, with a body of about ninety Tibetans, a few of whom were

armed with matchlocks, and the rest with bows and arrows. They were

commanded by a Dingpun, a short swarthy man, with a flat-crowned cap

with floss-silk hanging all round, and a green glass button in front;

he wore a loose scarlet jacket, broadly edged with black velvet, and

having great brass buttons of the Indian naval uniform; his subaltern

was similarly dressed, but his buttons were those of the 44th Bengal

Infantry. The commandant having heard of our wish to go round by

Choombi, told Campbell that he had come purposely to inform him that

there was no road that way to Yakla; he was very polite, ordering his

party to rise and salute me when I arrived, and doing the same when

we both left.

On our return we were accompanied by the Dingpun of the Tibetans and

a few of his people, and were soon met by more Sikkim sepoys, who

said they were sent from the Durbar, to bring Campbell back to

transact business; they behaved very rudely, and when still half a

mile from the Sikkim frontier, jostled him and feigned to draw their

knives, and one of them pointed a spear-headed bow to his breast.

Campbell defended himself with a stick, and remonstrated with them on

their rudeness; and I, who had nothing but a barometer in my hand,

called up the Tibetans. The Dingpun came instantly, and driving the

Sikkim people forward, escorted us to the frontier, where he took an

inscribed board from the chait, and showing us the great vermilion

seal of the Emperor of China (or more probably of the Lhassan

authorities) on one side, and two small brown ones of the Sikkim

Rajah on the other; and giving us to understand that here his

jurisdiction ceased, he again saluted and left us.

On descending, I was surprised to meet the Singtam Soubah, whom I had

not seen since leaving Tungu; he was seated on a rock, and I remarked

that he looked ashy pale and haggard, and that he salaamed to me

only, and not to Campbell; and that Tchebu Lama, who was with him,

seemed very uncomfortable. The Soubah wanted Campbell to stop for a

conference, which at such a time, and in such a wind, was impossible,

so he followed us to Chumanako, where we proposed to pass the night.

A great party of Sikkim Bhoteeas had assembled here, all strangers to

me: I certainly thought the concourse unusually large, and the

previous conduct to Campbell, strange, rude, and quite

unintelligible, especially before the Tibetans. But the Bhoteeas were

always a queer, and often insolent people,* [Captain Pemberton during

his mission to Bhotan was repeatedly treated with the utmost

insolence by the officials in that country (see Griffith's Journal).

My Sirdar, Nimbo, himself a native of Bhotan, saw a good deal of the

embassy when there, and told me many particulars as to the treatment

to which it had been subjected, and the consequent low estimation in

which both the ambassadors themselves and the Government whom they

represented were held in Bhotan.] whom I was long ago tired of trying

to understand, and they might have wanted to show off before their

neighbours; and such was the confidence with which my long travels

amongst them had inspired me, that the possibility of danger or

violence never entered my head.

We went into the hut, and were resting ourselves on a log at one end

of it, when, the evening being very cold, the people crowded in; on

which Campbell went out, saying, that we had better leave the hut to

them, and that he would see the tents pitched. He had scarcely left,

when I heard him calling loudly to me, "Hooker! Hooker! the savages

are murdering me!" I rushed to the door, and caught sight of him

striking out with his fists, and struggling violently; being tall and

powerful, he had already prostrated a few, but, a host of men bore

him down, and appeared to be trampling on him; at the same moment I

was myself seized by eight men, who forced me back into the hut, and

down on the log, where they held me in a sitting posture, pressing me

against the wall; here I spent a few moments of agony, as I heard my

friend's stifled cries grow fainter and fainter. I struggled but

little, and that only at first, for at least five-and-twenty men

crowded round and laid their hands upon me, rendering any effort to

move useless; they were, however, neither angry nor violent, and

signed to me to keep quiet. I retained my presence of mind, and felt

comfort in remembering that I saw no knives used by the party who

fell on Campbell, and that if their intentions had been murderous, an

arrow would have been the more sure and less troublesome weapon.

It was evident that the whole animus was directed against Campbell,

and though at first alarmed on my own account, all the inferences

which, with the rapidity of lightning my mind involuntarily drew,

were favourable.

After a few minutes, three persons came into the hut, and seated

themselves opposite to me: I only recognised two of them; namely, the

Singtam Soubah, pale, trembling like a leaf, and with great drops of

sweat trickling from his greasy brow; and the Tchebu Lama, stolid,

but evidently under restraint, and frightened. The former ordered the

men to leave hold of me, and to stand guard on either side, and, in a

violently agitated manner, he endeavoured to explain that Campbell

was a prisoner by the orders of the Rajah, who was dissatisfied with

his conduct as a government officer, during the past twelve years;

and that he was to be taken to the Durbar and confined till the

supreme government at Calcutta should confirm such articles as he

should be compelled to subscribe to; he also wanted to know from me

how Campbell would be likely to behave. I refused to answer any

questions till I should be informed why I was myself made prisoner;

on which he went away, leaving me still guarded. My own Sirdar then

explained that Campbell had been knocked down, tied hand and foot,

and taken to his tent, and that all his coolies were also bound, our

captors claiming them as Sikkimites, and subjects of the Rajah.

Shortly afterwards the three returned, the Soubah looking more

spectral than ever, and still more violently agitated, and I thought

I perceived that whatever were his plans, he had failed in them.

He asked me what view the Governor-General would take of this

proceeding? and receiving no answer, he went off with the Tchebu

Lama, and left me with the third individual. The latter looked

steadily at me for some time, and then asked if I did not know him.

I said I did not, when he gave his name as Dingpun Tinli, and I

recognised in him one of the men whom the Dewan had sent to conduct

us to the top of Mainom the previous year (see vol. i. chapter xiii).

This opened my eyes a good deal, for he was known to be a right-hand

man of the Dewan's, and had within a few months been convicted of

kidnapping two Brahmin girls from Nepal,* [This act as I have

mentioned at v. i. chapter xv, was not only a violation of the

British treaty, but an outrage on the religion of Nepal.

Jung Bahadoor demanded instant restitution, which Campbell effected;

thus incurring the Dingpun's wrath, who lost, besides his prize, a

good deal of money which the escapade cost him.] and had vowed

vengeance against Campbell for the duty he performed in bringing him

to punishment.

I was soon asked to go to my tent, which I found pitched close by;

they refused me permission to see my fellow-prisoner, or to be near

him, but allowed me to hang up my instruments, and arrange my

collections. My guards were frequently changed during the night,

Lepchas often taking a turn; they repeatedly assured me that there

was no complaint or ill-feeling against me, that the better classes

in Sikkim would be greatly ashamed of the whole affair, that Tchebu

Lama was equally a prisoner, and that the grievances against Campbell

were of a political nature, but what they were they did not know.

The night was very cold (thermometer 26 degrees), and two inches of

snow fell. I took as many of my party as I could into my tent, they

having no shelter fit for such an elevation (12,590 feet) at this

season. Through the connivance of some of the people, I managed to

correspond with Campbell, who afterwards gave me the following

account of the treatment he had received. He stated that on leaving

the hut, he had been met by Meepo, who told him the Soubah had

ordered his being turned out. A crowd of sepoys then fell on him and

brought him to the ground, knocked him on the head, trampled on him,

and pressed his neck down to his chest as he lay, as if endeavouring

to break it. His feet were tied, and his arms pinioned behind, the

wrist of the right hand being bound to the left arm above the elbow;

the cords were then doubled, and he was violently shaken. The Singtam

Soubah directed all this, which was performed chiefly by the Dingpun

Tinli and Jongpun Sangabadoo.* [This was the other man sent with us

to Mainom, by the Dewan, in the previous December.] After this the

Soubah came to me, as I have related; and returning, had Campbell

brought bound before him, and asked him, through Tchebu Lama, if he

would write from dictation. The Soubah was violent, excited, and

nervous; Tchebu Lama scared. Campbell answered, that if they

continued torturing him (which was done by twisting the cords round

his wrists by a bamboo-wrench), he might say or do anything, but that

his government would not confirm any acts thus extorted. The Soubah

became still more violent, shook his bow in Campbell's face, and

drawing his hand significantly across his throat, repeated his

questions, adding others, enquiring why he had refused to receive the

Lassoo Kajee as Vakeel, etc. (see chapter xviii).

The Soubah's people, meanwhile, gradually slunk away, seeing which he

left Campbell, who was taken to his tent.

Early next morning Meepo was sent by the Soubah, to ask whether I

would go to Yakla pass, or return to Dorjiling, and to say that the

Rajah's orders had been very strict that I was not to be molested,

and that I might proceed to whatever passes I wished to visit, whilst

Campbell was to be taken back to the Durbar, to transact business.

I was obliged to call upon the Soubah and Dingpun to explain their

conduct of the previous day, which they declared arose from no

ill-feeling, but simply from their fear of my interfering in

Campbell's behalf; they could not see what reason I had to complain,

so long as I was neither hurt nor bound. I tried in vain to explain

to them that they could not so play fast and loose with a British

subject, and insisted that if they really considered me free, they

should place me with Campbell, under whose protection I considered

myself, he being still the Governor-General's agent.

Much discussion followed this: Meepo urged me to go on to Yakla, and

leave these bad people; and the Soubah and Dingpun, who had exceeded

their orders in laying hands on me, both wished me away. My course

was, however, clear as to the propriety of keeping as close to

Campbell as I was allowed, so they reluctantly agreed to take me with

him to the Durbar.

Tchebu Lama came to me soon afterwards, looking as stolid as ever,

but with a gulping in his throat; he alone was glad I was going with

them, and implored me to counsel Campbell not to irritate the Amlah

by a refusal to accede to their dictates, in which case his life

might be the forfeit. As to himself, the opposite faction had now got

the mastery, there was nothing for it but to succumb, and his throat

would surely be cut. I endeavoured to comfort him with the assurance

that they dared not hurt Campbell, and that this conduct of a party

of ruffians, influenced by the Dewan and their own private pique, did

not represent his Rajah's feelings and wishes, as he himself knew;

but the poor fellow was utterly unnerved, and shaking hands warmly,

with his eyes full of tears, he took his leave.

We were summoned by the Dingpun to march at 10 a.m.: I demanded an

interview with Campbell first, which was refused; but I felt myself

pretty safe, and insisting upon it, he was brought to me. He was

sadly bruised about the head, arms, and wrists, walked very lame, and

had a black eye to boot, but was looking stout and confident.

I may here mention that seizing the representative of a neighbouring

power and confining him till he shall have become amenable to terms,

is a common practice along the Tibet, Sikkim, and Bhotan frontiers.

It had been resorted to in 1847, by the Bhotanese, under the

instructions of the Paro Pilo, who waylaid the Sikkim Rajah when

still in Tibet, on his return from Jigatzi, and beleagured him for

two months, endeavouring to bring him to their terms about some

border dispute; on this occasion the Rajah applied to the British

government for assistance, which was refused; and he was ultimately

rescued by a Tibetan force.

In the present case the Dewan issued orders that Campbell was to be

confined at Tumloong till he himself should arrive there; and the

Rajah was kept in ignorance of the affair. The Sepoys who met us on

our approach to Tumloong on the 3rd of November, were, I suspect,

originally sent for the purpose; and I think that the Amlah also had

followed us to Rungpo with the same object. Their own extreme

timidity, and the general good-feeling in the country towards

Campbell prevented its execution before, and, as a last resource,

they selected the Singtam Soubah and Dingpun Tinli for the office, as

being personally hostile to him. The Dewan meanwhile being in Tibet,

and knowing that we were about to visit the frontier, for which I had

full permission and escort, sent up the Tibetan guard, hoping to

embroil them in the affair; in this he failed, and it drew upon him

the anger of the Lhassan authorities.* [In the following summer

(1850), when the Rajah, Dewan, and Soubah, repaired to Choombi, the

Lhassan authorities sent a Commissioner to inquire into the affair,

understanding that the Dewan had attempted to embroil the Tibetans in

it. The commissioner asked the Rajah why he had committed such an

outrage on the representative of the British government, under whose

protection he was; thus losing his territory, and bringing English

troops so near the Tibet frontier. The Rajah answered that he never

did anything of the kind; that he was old and infirm, and unable to

transact all his affairs; that the mischief had arisen out of the

acts and ignorance of others, and finally begged the Commissioner to

investigate the whole affair, and satisfy himself about it.

During the inquiry that followed, the Dewan threw all the blame on

the Tibetans, who, he said were alone implicated: this assertion was

easily disproved, and on the conclusion of the inquiry the

Commissioner railed vehemently at the Dewan, saying:--"You tried to

put this business on the people of my country; it is an abominable

lie. You did it yourselves, and no one else. The Company is a great

monarchy; you insulted it, and it has taken its revenge. If you, or

any other Tibetan, ever again cause a rupture with the English, you

shall be taken with ropes round your necks to Pekin, there to undergo

the just punishment of your offence under the sentence of the mighty

Emperor."] The Soubah, in endeavouring to extort the new treaty by

force, and the Dingpun, who had his own revenge to gratify, exceeded

their instructions in using violence towards Campbell, whom the Dewan

ordered should be simply taken and confined; they were consequently

disgraced, long before we were released, and the failure of the

stratagem thrown upon their shoulders.

During the march down to Laghep, Campbell was treated by the

Dingpun's men with great rudeness: I kept as near as I was allowed,

quietly gathering rhododendron seeds by the way. At the

camping-ground we were again separated, at which I remonstrated with

the Dingpun, also complaining of his people's insolent behaviour

towards their prisoner, which he promised should be discontinued.

The next day we reached Rungpo, where we halted for further

instructions: our tents were placed apart, but we managed to

correspond by stealth. On the 10th of November we were conducted to

Tumloong: a pony was brought for me, but I refused it, on seeing that

Campbell was treated with great indignity, and obliged to follow at

the tail of the mule ridden by the Dingpun, who thus marched him in

triumph up to the village.

I was taken to a house at Phadong, and my fellow traveller was

confined in another at some distance to the eastward, a stone's throw

below the Rajah's; and thrust into a little cage-like room. I was

soon visited by an old Lama, who assured me that we were both

perfectly safe, but that there were many grievances against Campbell.

The Soubah arrived shortly after, bringing me compliments, nominally

in the Rajah's name, and a substantial present, consisting of a large

cow, sheep, fowls, a brick of tea, bags of rice, flour, butter, eggs,

and a profusion of vegetables. I refused to take them on the friendly

terms on which they were brought, and only accepted them as

provisions during my detention. I remonstrated again about our

separation, and warned the Soubah of the inevitable consequence of

this outrage upon the representative of a friendly power, travelling

under the authority of his own government, unarmed and without

escort: he was greatly perplexed, and assured me that Campbell's

detention was only temporary, because he had not given satisfaction

to the Rajah, and as the latter could not get answers to his demands

from Calcutta in less than a month, it was determined to keep him

till then; but to send me to Dorjiling. He returned in the evening to

tell me that Campbell's men (with the exception only of the Ghorkas*

[These people stood in far greater fear of the Nepalese than of the

English, and the reason is obvious: the former allow no infraction of

their rights to pass unnoticed, whereas we had permitted every

article of our treaty to be contravened.]) had been seized, because

they were runaway slaves from Sikkim; but that I need not alarm

myself, for mine should be untouched.

The hut being small, and intolerably dirty, I pitched my tent close

by, and lived in it for seven days: I was not guarded, but so closely

watched, that I could not go out for the most trifling purpose,

except under surveillance. They were evidently afraid of my escaping;

I was however treated with civility, but forbidden to communicate

either with Campbell or with Dorjiling.

The Soubah frequently visited me, always protesting I was no

prisoner, that Campbell's seizure was a very trifling affair, and the

violence employed all a mistake. He always brought presents, and

tried to sound me about the government at Calcutta. On the 12th he

paid his last visit, looking wofully dejected, being out of favour at

court, and dismissed to his home: he referred me to Meepo for all

future communications to the Rajah, and bade me a most cordial

farewell, which I regretted being unable to return with any show of

kind feeling. Poor fellow! he had staked his last, and lost it, when

he undertook to seize the agent of the most powerful government in

the east, and to reduce him to the condition of a tool of the Dewan.

Despite the many obstructions he had placed in my way, we had not

fallen out since July; we had been constant companions, and though at

issue, never at enmity. I had impeached him, and my grievances had

been forwarded to the Rajah with a demand for his punishment, but he

never seemed to owe me a grudge for that, knowing the Rajah's

impotence as compared with the power of the Dewan whom he served;

and, in common with all his party, presuming on the unwillingness of

the British government to punish.

On the 13th of November I was hurriedly summoned by Meepo to the

Phadong temple, where I was interrogated by the Amlah, as the Rajah's

councillors (in this instance the Dewan's adherents) are called.

I found four China mats placed on a stone bench, on one of which I

was requested to seat myself, the others being occupied by the

Dewan's elder brother, a younger brother of the Gangtok Kajee (a man

of some wealth), and an old Lama: the conference took place in the

open air and amongst an immense crowd of Lamas, men, women,

and children.

I took the initiative (as I made a point of doing on all such

occasions) and demanded proper interpreters, which were refused; and

the Amlah began a rambling interrogatory in Tibetan, through my

Lepcha Sirdar Pakshok, who spoke very little Tibetan or Hindostanee,

and my half-caste servant, who spoke as little English. The Dewan's

brother was very nervously counting his beads, and never raised his

eyes while I kept mine steadily upon him.

He suggested most of the queries, every one of which took several

minutes, as he was constantly interrupted by the Kajee, who was very

fat and stupid: the Lama scarcely spoke, and the bystanders never.

My connection with the Indian government was first enquired into; next they came to political matters, upon which I declined entering; but I gathered that their object was to oblige Campbell to accept the Lassoo Kajee as Vakeel, to alter the slavery laws, to draw a new boundary line with Nepal, to institute direct communication between themselves and the Governor-General,* [They were prompted to demand this by an unfortunate oversight that occurred at Calcutta some years before. Vakeels from the Sikkim Durbar repaired to that capital, and though unaccredited by the Governor-General's agent at Dorjiling, were (in the absence of the Governor-General) received by the president of the council in open Durbar. The effect was of course to reduce the Governor-General's agent at Dorjiling to a cipher.] and to engage that there should be no trade or communication between Sikkim and India, except through the Dewan: all of these subjects related to the terms of the original treaty between the Rajah and the Indian government. They told me they had sent these proposals to the government through Dorjiling,* [These letters, which concluded with a line stating that Campbell was detained at Tumloong till favourable answers should be received, had arrived at Dorjiling; but being written in Tibetan, and containing matters into which no one but Campbell could enter, they were laid on one side till his return.

The interpreter did not read the last line, which stated that Dr. Campbell was detained till answers were received, and the fact of our capture and imprisonment therefore remained unknown for several weeks.] but had received no acknowledgment from the latter place, and they wanted to know the probable result at Calcutta. As the only answer I could give might irritate them, I again declined giving any. Lastly, they assured me that no blame was imputed to myself, that on the contrary I had been travelling under the Rajah's protection, who rejoiced in my success, that I might have visited Yakla pass as I had intended doing, but that preferring to accompany my friend, they had allowed me to do so, and that I might now either join him, or continue to live in my tent: of course I joyfully accepted the former proposal. After being refused permission to send a letter to Dorjiling, except I would write in a character which they could read, I asked if they had anything more to say, and being answered in the negative, I was taken by Meepo to Campbell, heartily glad to end a parley which had lasted for an hour and a half.

I found my friend in good health and spirits, strictly guarded in a

small thatched hut, of bamboo wattle and clay: the situation was

pretty, and commanded a view of the Ryott valley and the snowy

mountains; there were some picturesque chaits hard by, and a

blacksmith's forge. Our walks were confined to a few steps in front

of the hut, and included a puddle and a spring of water. We had one

black room with a small window, and a fire in the middle on a stone;

we slept in the narrow apartment behind it, which was the cage in

which Campbell had been at first confined, and which exactly admitted

us both, lying on the floor. Two or three Sepoys occupied an

adjoining room, and had a peep-hole through the partition-wall.

My gratification at our being placed together was damped by the

seizure of all my faithful attendants except my own servant, and one

who was a Nepalese: the rest were bound, and placed in the stocks and

close confinement, charged with being Sikkim people who had no

authority to take service in Dorjiling. On the contrary they were all

registered as British subjects, and had during my travels been

recognised as such by the Rajah and all his authorities. Three times

the Soubah and others had voluntarily assured me that my person and

people were inviolate; nor was there any cause for this outrage but

the fear of their escaping with news to Dorjiling, and possibly a

feeling of irritation amongst the authorities at the failure of their

schemes. Meanwhile we were not allowed to write, and we heard that

the bag of letters which we had sent before our capture had been

seized and burnt. Campbell greatly feared that they would threaten

Dorjiling with a night attack,* [Threats of sacking Dorjiling had on

several previous occasions been made by the Dewan, to the too great

alarm of the inhabitants, who were ignorant of the timid and pacific

disposition of the Lepchas, and of the fact that there are not fifty

muskets in the country, nor twenty men able to use them. On this

occasion the threats were coupled with the report that we were

murdered, and that the Rajah had asked for 50,000 Tibetan soldiers,

who were being marched twenty-five days' journey over passes 16,000

feet high, and deep in snow, and were coming to drive the English out

of Sikkim! I need hardly observe that the Tibetans (who have

repeatedly refused to interfere on this side the snows) had no hand

in the matter, or that, supposing they could collect that number of

men in all Tibet, it would be impossible to feed them for a week,

there or in Sikkim. Such reports unfortunately spread a panic in

Dorjiling: the guards were called in from all the outposts, and the

ladies huddled into one house, whilst the males stood on the

defensive; to the great amusement of the Amlah at Tumloong, whose

insolence to us increased proportionally.] as we heard that the

Lassoo Kajee was stationed at Namtchi with a party for that purpose,

and all communication cut off, except through him.

Illustration--HORNS OF THE SHOWA STAG (_Cervus Wallichii_), A NATIVE

OF CHOOMBI IN TIBET.

Length of antler, 4 feet 6 in.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Dr. Campbell is ordered to appear at Durbar -- Lamas called to

council -- Threats -- Searcity of food -- Arrival of Dewan -- Our

jailer, Thoba-sing -- Temperature, etc., at Tumloong -- Services of

Goompas -- Lepcha girl -- Jew's-harp -- Terror of servants --

Ilam-sing's family -- Interview with Dewan -- Remonstrances -- Dewan

feigns sickness -- Lord Dalhousie's letter to Rajah -- Treatment of

Indo-Chinese -- Concourse of Lamas -- Visit of Tchebu Lama -- Close

confinement -- Dr. Campbell's illness -- Conference with Amlah --

Relaxation of confinement -- Pemiongchi Lama's intercession -- Escape

of Nimbo -- Presents from Rajah, Ranee and people -- Protestations of

friendship -- Mr. Lushington sent to Dorjiling -- Leave Tumloong --

Cordial farewell -- Dewan's merchandise -- Gangtok Kajee -- Dewan's

pomp -- Governor-General's letter -- Dikkeeling -- Suspicion of

poison -- Dinner and pills -- Tobacco -- Bhotanese colony --

Katong-ghat on Teesta -- Wild lemons -- Sepoys' insolence -- Dewan

alarmed -- View of Dorjiling -- Threats of a rescue -- Fears of our

escape -- Tibet flutes -- Negotiate our release -- Arrival at

Dorjiling -- Dr. Thomson joins me -- Movement of troops at Dorjiling

-- Seizure of Rajah's Terai property.

Since his confinement, Dr. Campbell had been desired to attend the

Durbar for the purpose of transacting business, but had refused to

go, except by compulsion, considering that in the excited state of

the authorities, amongst whom there was not one person of

responsibility or judgment, his presence would not only be useless,

but he might be exposed to further insult or possibly violence.

On the 15th of November we were informed that the Dewan was on his

way from Tibet: of this we were glad, for knave as he was, we had

hitherto considered him to possess sense and understanding.

His agents were beginning to find out their mistake, and summoned to

council the principal Lamas and Kajees of the country, who, to a man,

repudiated the proceedings, and refused to attend. Our captors were

extremely anxious to induce us to write letters to Dorjiling, and

sent spies of all kinds to offer us facilities for secret

correspondence. The simplicity and clumsiness with which these

artifices were attempted would have been ludicrous under other

circumstances; while the threat of murdering Campbell only alarmed

us, inasmuch as it came from people too stupid to be trusted. We made

out that all Sikkim people were excluded from Dorjiling, and the

Amlah consequently could not conceal their anxiety to know what had

befallen their letters to government.

Meanwhile we were but scantily fed, and our imprisoned coolies got

nothing at all. Our guards, were supplied with a handful of rice or

meal as the day's allowance; they were consequently grumbling,* [The

Rajah has no standing army; not even a body-guard, and these men were

summoned to Tumloong before our arrival: they had no arms and

received no pay, but were fed when called out on duty. There is no

store for grain, no bazaar or market, in any part of the country,

each family growing little enough for its own wants and no more;

consequently Sikkim could not stand on the defensive for a week.

The Rajah receives his supply of grain in annual contributions from

the peasantry, who thus pay a rent in kind, which varies from little

to nothing, according to the year, etc. He had also property of his

own in the Terai, but the slender proceeds only enabled him to trade

with Tibet for tea, etc.] and were daily reduced in number.

The supplies of rice from the Terai, beyond Dorjiling, were cut off

by the interruption of communication, and the authorities evidently

could not hold us long at this rate: we sent up complaints, but of

course received no answer.

The Dewan arrived in the afternoon in great state; carried in an

English chair given him by Campbell some years before, habited in a

blue silk cloak lined with lambskin, and wearing an enormous straw

hat with a red tassel, and black velvet butterflies on the flapping

brim. He was accompanied by a household of women, who were laden with

ornaments, and wore boots, and sat astride on ponies; many Lamas were

also with him, one of whom wore a broad Chinese-like hat covered with

polished copper foil. Half a dozen Sepoys with matchlocks preceded

him, and on approaching Tumloong, bawled out his titles, dignities,

etc., as was formerly the custom in England.

Illustration--RAJAH'S RESIDENCE, AND THE HUT ASSIGNED TO US. ARRIVAL

OF THE DEWAN.

At Dorjiling our seizure was still unknown: our letters were brought

to us, but we were not allowed to answer them. Now that the Dewan had

arrived, we hoped to come to a speedy explanation with him, but he

shammed sickness, and sent no answer to our messages; if indeed he

received them. Our guards were reduced to one Sepoy with a knife, who

was friendly; and a dirty, cross-eyed fellow named Thoba-sing, who,

with the exception of Tchebu Lama, was the only Bhoteea about the

Durbar who could speak Hindostanee, and who did it very imperfectly:

he was our attendant and spy, the most barefaced liar I ever met

with, even in the east; and as cringing and obsequious when alone

with us, as he was to his masters on other occasions, when he never

failed to show off his authority over us in an offensive manner.

Though he was the most disagreeable fellow we were ever thrown in

contact with, I do not think that he was therefore selected, but

solely from his possessing a few words of Hindostanee, and his

presumed capability of playing the spy.

The weather was generally drizzling or rainy, and we were getting

very tired of our captivity; but I beguiled the time by carefully

keeping my meteorological register,* [During the thirty days spent at

Tumloong, the temperature was mild and equable, with much cloud and

drizzle, but little hard rain; and we experienced violent

thunder-storms, followed by transient sunshine. Unlike 1848, the

rains did not cease this year before the middle of December; nor had

there been one fine month since April. The mean temperature, computed

from 150 observations, was 50.2 degrees, and from the maximum and

minimum thermometer 49.6 degrees, which is a fair approximation to

the theoretical temperature calculated for the elevation and month,

and allows a fall of 1 degree for 320 feet of ascent. The temperature

during the spring (from 50 observations) varied during the day from

2.4 degrees to 5.8 degrees higher than that of the air, the greatest

differences occurring morning and evening. The barometric tide

amounted to 0.091 between 9.50 a.m. and 4 p.m., which is less than at

the level of the plains of India, and more than at any greater

elevation than Tumloong. The air was always damp, nearly saturated at

night, and the mean amount of humidity for ninety-eight observations

taken during the day was only 0.850, corresponding to a dew-point of

49.6 degrees, or 5.2 degrees below that of the air.] and by reducing

many of my previous observations. Each morning we were awakened at

daybreak by the prolonged echos of the conchs, trumpets, and cymbals,

beaten by the priests before the many temples in the valley: wild and

pleasing sounds, often followed by their choral chants. After dark

we sat over the fire, generally in company with a little Lepcha girl,

who was appointed to keep us in fire-wood, and who sat watching our

movements with childish curiosity. Dolly, as we christened her, was a

quick child and a kind one, intolerably dirty, but very entertaining

from her powers of mimicry. She was fond of hearing me whistle airs,

and procured me a Tibetan Jews'-harp,* [This instrument (which is

common in Tibet) is identical with the European, except that the

tongue is produced behind the bow, in a strong steel spike, by which

the instrument is held firmer to the mouth.] with which, and coarse

tobacco, which I smoked out of a Tibetan brass pipe, I wiled away the

dark evenings, whilst my cheerful companion amused himself with an

old harmonicon, to the enchantment of Dolly and our guards

and neighbours.

Illustration--TIBET PIPE, AND TINDER-POUCH WITH STEEL ATTACHED.

The messengers from Dorjiling were kept in utter ignorance of our

confinement till their arrival at Tumloong, when they were

cross-questioned, and finally sent to us. They gradually became too

numerous, there being only one apartment for ourselves, and such of

our servants as were not imprisoned elsewhere. Some of them were

frightened out of their senses, and the state of abject fear and

trembling in which one Limboo arrived, and continued for nearly a

week, was quite distressing* [It amounted to a complete prostration

of bodily and mental powers: the man trembled and started when spoken

to, or at any noise, a cold sweat constantly bedewed his forehead,

and he continued in this state for eight days. No kindness on

Campbell's part could rouse him to give any intelligible account of

his fears or their cause. His companions said he had lost his goroo,

_i.e.,_ his charm, which the priest gives him while yet a child, and

which he renews or gets re-sanctified as occasion requires. To us the

circumstance was extremely painful.] to every one except Dolly, who

mimicked him in a manner that was irresistibly ludicrous. Whether he

had been beaten or threatened we could not make out, nor whether he

had heard of some dark fate impending over ourselves--a suspicion

which would force itself on our minds; especially as Thoba-sing had

coolly suggested to the Amlah the dispatching of Campbell, as the

shortest way of getting out of the scrape! We were also ignorant

whether any steps were being taken at Dorjiling for our release,

which we felt satisfied must follow any active measures against these

bullying cowards, though they themselves frequently warned us that we

should be thrown into the Teesta if any such were pursued.

So long as our money lasted, we bought food, for the Durbar had none

to give; and latterly my ever charitable companion fed our guards,

including Dolly and Thoba-sing, in pity to their pinched condition.

Several families sent us small presents, especially that of the late

estimable Dewan, Ilam-sing, whose widow and daughters lived close by,

and never failed to express in secret their sympathy and good feeling.

Tchebu Lama's and Meepo's families were equally forward in their

desire to serve us; but they were marked men, and could only

communicate by stealth.

Our coolies were released on the 18th, more than half starved, but

the Sirdars were still kept in chains or the stocks: some were sent

back to Dorjiling, and the British subjects billetted off amongst the

villagers, and variously employed by the Dewan: my lad, Cheytoong,

was set to collect the long leaves of a _Tupistra,_ called

"Purphiok," which yield a sweet juice, and were chopped up and mixed

with tobacco for the Dewan's hookah.

_November 20th._--The Dewan, we heard this day, ignored all the late

proceedings, professing to be enraged with his brother and the Amlah,

and refusing to meddle in the matter. This was no doubt a pretence:

we had sent repeatedly for an explanation with himself or the Rajah,

from which he excused himself on the plea of ill-health, till this

day, when he apprized us that he would meet Campbell, and a cotton

tent was pitched for the purpose.

We went about noon, and were received with great politeness and

shaking of hands by the Dewan, the young Gangtok Kajee, and the old

monk who had been present at my examination at Phadong. Tchebu Lama's

brother was also there, as a member of the Amlah, lately taken into

favour; while Tchebu himself acted as interpreter, the Dewan speaking

only Tibetan. They all sat cross-legged on a bamboo bench on one

side, and we on chairs opposite them: walnuts and sweetmeats were

brought us, and a small present in the Rajah's name, consisting of

rice, flour, and butter.

The Dewan opened the conversation both in this and another

conference, which took place on the 22nd, by requesting Campbell to

state his reasons for having desired these interviews. Neither he nor

the Amlah seemed to have the smallest idea of the nature and

consequences of the acts they had committed, and they therefore

anxiously sought information as to the view that would be taken of

them by the British Government. They could not see why Campbell

should not transact business with them in his present condition, and

wanted him to be the medium of communication between themselves and

Calcutta. The latter confined himself to pointing out his own views

of the following subjects:--1. The seizing and imprisoning of the

agent of a friendly power, travelling unarmed and without escort,

under the formal protection of the Rajah, and with the authority of

his own government. 2. The aggravation of this act of the Amlah, by

our present detention under the Dewan's authority. 3. The chance of

collision, and the disastrous consequences of a war, for which they

had no preparation of any kind. 4. The impossibility of the supreme

government paying any attention to their letters so long as we were

illegally detained.

All this sank deep into the Dewan's heart: he answered, "You have

spoken truth, and I will submit it all to the Rajah;" but at the same

time he urged that there was nothing dishonourable in the

imprisonment, and that the original violence being all a mistake, it

should be overlooked by both parties. We parted on good terms, and

heard shortly after the second conference that our release was

promised and arranged: when a communication* [I need scarcely say

that every step was taken at Dorjiling for our release, that the most

anxious solicitude for our safety could suggest. But the first

communication to the Rajah, though it pointed out the heinous nature

of his offence, was, through a natural fear of exasperating our

captors, couched in very moderate language. The particulars of our

seizure, and the reasons for it, and for our further detention, were

unknown at Dorjiling, or a very different line of policy would have

been pursued.] from Dorjiling changed their plans, the Dewan

conveniently fell sick on the spot, and we were thrown back again.

In the meantime, however, we were allowed to write to our friends,

and to receive money and food, of which we stood in great need.

I transmitted a private account of the whole affair to the

Governor-General, who was unfortunately at Bombay, but to whose

prompt and vigorous measures we were finally indebted for our

release. His lordship expedited a despatch to the Rajah, such as the

latter was accustomed to receive from Nepal, Bhotan, or Lhassa, and

such as alone commands attention from these half-civilized

Indo-Chinese, who measure power by the firmness of the tone adopted

towards them; and who, whether in Sikkim, Birmah, Siam, Bhotan, or

China, have too long been accustomed to see every article of our

treaties contravened, with no worse consequences than a protest or a

threat, which is never carried into execution till some fatal step

calls forth the dormant power of the British Government.* [We forget

that all our concessions to these people are interpreted into

weakness; that they who cannot live on an amicable equality with one

another, cannot be expected to do so with us; that all our talk of

power and resources are mere boasts to habitual bullies, so long as

we do not exert ourselves in the correction of premeditated insults.

No Government can be more tolerant, more sincerely desirous of peace,

and more anxious to confine its sway within its own limits than that

of India, but it can only continue at peace by demanding respect, and

the punctilious enforcement of even the most trifling terms in the

treaties it makes with Indo-Chinese.]

The end of the month arrived without bringing any prospect of our

release, whilst we were harassed by false reports of all kinds.

The Dewan went on the 25th to a hot bath, a few hundred feet down the

hill; he was led past our hut, his burly frame tottering as if in

great weakness, but a more transparent fraud could not have been

practised: he was, in fact, lying on his oars, pending further

negotiations. The Amlah proposed that Campbell should sign a bond,

granting immunity for all past offences on their part, whilst they

were to withdraw the letter of grievances against him. The Lamas cast

horoscopes for the future, little presents continually arrived for

us, and the Ranee sent me some tobacco, and to Campbell brown sugar

and Murwa beer. The blacksmiths, who had been ostentatiously making

long knives at the forge hard by, were dismissed; troops were said to

be arriving at Dorjiling, and a letter sternly demanding our release

bad been received.

The Lamas of Pemiongchi, Changachelling, Tassiding, etc., and the

Dewan's enemies, and Tchebu Lama's friends, began to flock from all

quarters to Tumloong, demanding audience of the Rajah, and our

instant liberation. The Dewan's game was evidently up; but the

timidity of his opponents, his own craft, and the habitual

dilatoriness of all, contributed to cause endless delays. The young

Gangtok Kajee tried to curry favour with us, sending word that he was

urging our release, and adding that he had some capital ponies for us

to see on our way to Dorjiling! Many similar trifles showed that

these people had not a conception of the nature of their position, or

of that of an officer of the British Government.

The Tchebu Lama visited us only once, and then under surveillance; he

renewed his professions of good faith, and we had every reason to

know that he had suffered severely for his adherence to us, and

consistent repudiation of the Amlah's conduct; he was in great favour

with his brother Lamas, but was not allowed to see the Rajah, who was

said to trust to him alone of all his counsellors. He told us that

peremptory orders had arrived from Calcutta for our release, but that

the Amlah had replied that they would not acknowledge the despatch,

from its not bearing the Governor-General's great seal!

The country-people refusing to be saddled with the keep of our

coolies, they were sent to Dorjiling in small parties, charged to say

that we were free, and following them.

The weather continued rainy and bad, with occasionally a few hours of

sunshine, which, however, always rendered the ditch before our door

offensive: we were still prevented leaving the hot, but as a great

annual festival was going on, we were less disagreeably watched.

Campbell was very unwell, and we had no medicine; and as the Dewan,

accustomed to such duplicity himself, naturally took this for a

_ruse,_ and refused to allow us to send to Dorjiling for any, we were

more than ever convinced that his own sickness was simulated.

On the 2nd and 3rd December we had further conferences with the

Dewan, who said that we were to be taken to Dorjiling in six days,

with two Vakeels from the Rajah. The Pemiongchi Lama, as the oldest

and most venerated in Sikkim, attended, and addressed Campbell in a

speech of great feeling and truth. Having heard, he said, of these

unfortunate circumstances a few days ago, he had come on feeble

limbs, and though upwards of seventy winters old, as the

representative of his holy brotherhood, to tender advice to his

Rajah, which he hoped would be followed: Since Sikkim had been

connected with the British rule, it had experienced continued peace

and protection; whereas before they were in constant dread of their

lives and properties, which, as well as their most sacred temples,

were violated by the Nepalese and Bhotanese. He then dwelt upon

Campbell's invariable kindness and good feeling, and his exertions

for the benefit of their country, and for the cementing of

friendship, and hoped he would not let these untoward events induce

an opposite course in future but that he would continue to exert his

influence with the Governor-General in their favour.

The Dewan listened attentively; he was anxious and perplexed, and

evidently losing his presence of mind: he talked to us of Lhassa and

its gaieties, dromedaries, Lamas, and everything Tibetan; offered to

sell us ponies cheap, and altogether behaved in a most, undignified

manner; ever and anon calling attention to his pretended sick leg,

which he nursed on his knee. He gave us the acceptable news that the

government at Calcutta had sent up an officer to carry on Campbell's

duties, which had alarmed him exceedingly. The Rajah, we were told,

was very angry at our seizure and detention; he had no fault to find

with the Governor-General's agent, and hoped he would be continued as

such. In fact, all the blame was thrown on the brothers of the Dewan,

and of the Gangtok Kajee, and more irresponsible stupid boors could

not have been found on whom to lay it, or who would have felt less

inclined to commit such folly if it had not been put on them by the

Dewan. On leaving, white silk scarfs were thrown over our shoulders,

and we went away, still doubtful, after so many disappointments,

whether we should really be set at liberty at the stated period.

Although there was so much talk about our leaving, our confinement

continued as rigorous as ever. The Dewan curried favour in every

other way, sending us Tibetan wares for purchase, with absurd prices

attached, he being an arrant pedlar. All the principal families

waited on us, desiring peace and friendship. The coolies who had not

been dismissed were allowed to run away, except my Bhotan Sirdar,

Nimbo, against whom the Dewan was inveterate;* [The Sikkim people are

always at issue with the Bhotanese. Nimbo was a runaway slave of the

latter country, who had been received into Sikkim, and retained there

until he took up his quarters at Dorjiling.] he, however, managed

soon afterwards to break a great chain with which his legs were

shackled, and marching at night, eluded a hot pursuit, and proceeded

to the Teesta, swam the river, and reached Dorjiling in eight days;

arriving with a large iron ring on each leg, and a link of several

pounds weight attached to one.

Parting presents arrived from the Rajah on the 7th, consisting of

ponies, cloths, silks, woollens, immense squares of butter, tea, and

the usual et ceteras, to the utter impoverishment of his stores:

these he offered to the two Sahibs, "in token of his amity with the

British government, his desire for peace, and deprecation of angry

discussions." The Ranee sent silk purses, fans, and such Tibetan

paraphernalia, with an equally amicable message, that "she was most

anxious to avert the consequences of whatever complaints had gone

forth against Dr. Campbell, who might depend on her strenuous

exertions to persuade the Rajah to do whatever he wished!"

These friendly messages were probably evoked by the information that

an English regiment, with three guns, was on its way to Sikkim, and

that 300 of the Bhaugulpore Rangers had already arrived there.

The government of Bengal sending another agent* [Mr. Lushington, the

gentleman sent to conduct Sikkim affairs during Dr. Campbell's

detention: to whom I shall ever feel grateful for his activity in our

cause, and his unremitting attention to every little arrangement that

could alleviate the discomforts and anxieties of our position.] to

Dorjiling, was also a contingency they had not anticipated, having

fully expected to get rid of any such obstacle to direct

communication with the Governor-General.

A present from the whole population followed that of the Ranee,

coupled with earnest entreaties that Campbell would resume his

position at Dorjiling; and on the following day forty coolies

mustered to arrange the baggage. Before we left, the Ranee sent three

rupees to buy a yard of chale and some gloves, accompanying them

with a present of white silk, etc., for Mrs. Campbell, to whom the

commission was intrusted: a singular instance of the _insouciant_

simplicity of these odd people.

The 9th of December was a splendid and hot day, one of the very few

we had had during our captivity. We left at noon, descending the hill

through an enormous crowd of people, who brought farewell presents,

all wishing us well. We were still under escort as prisoners of the

Dewan, who was coolly marching a troop of forty unloaded mules and

ponies, and double that number of men's loads of merchandize,

purchased during the summer in Tibet, to trade with at Dorjiling and

the Titalya fair! His impudence or stupidity was thus quite

inexplicable; treating us as prisoners, ignoring every demand of the

authorities at Dorjiling, of the Supreme Council of Calcutta, and of

the Governor-General himself; and at the same time acting as if he

were to enter the British territories on the most friendly and

advantageous footing for himself and his property, and incurring so

great an expense in all this as to prove that he was in earnest in

thinking so.

Tchebu Lama accompanied us, but we were not allowed to converse with

him. We halted at the bottom of the valley, where the Dewan invited

us to partake of tea; from this place he gave us mules* [The Tibet

mules are often as fine as the Spanish: I rode one which had

performed a journey from Choombi to Lhassa in fifteen days, with a

man and load.] or ponies to ride, and we ascended to Yankoong, a

village 3,867 feet above the sea. On the following day we crossed a

high ridge from the Ryott valley to that of the Rungmi; where we

camped at Tikbotang (alt. 3,763 feet), and, on the 11th at Gangtok

Sampoo, a few miles lower down the same valley.

We were now in the Soubahship of the Gangtok Kajee; a member of the

oldest and most wealthy family in Sikkim; he had from the first

repudiated the late acts of the Amlah, in which his brother had taken

part, and had always been hostile to the Dewan. The latter conducted

himself with disagreeable familiarity towards us, and _hauteur_

towards the people; he was preceded by immense kettle-drums, carried

on men's backs, and great hand-bells, which were beaten and rung on

approaching villages; on which occasions he changed his dress of

sky-blue for yellow silk robes worked with Chinese dragons, to the

indignation of Tchebu Lama, an amber robe in polite Tibetan society

being sacred to royalty and the Lamas. We everywhere perceived

unequivocal symptoms of the dislike with which he was regarded.

Cattle were driven away, villages deserted, and no one came to pay

respects, or bring presents, except the Kajees, who were ordered to

attend, and his elder brother, for whom he had usurped an estate

near Gangtok.

On the 13th, he marched us a few miles, and then halted for a day at

Serriomsa (alt. 2,820 feet), at the bottom of a hot valley full of

irrigated rice-crops and plantain and orange-groves. Here the Gangtok

Kajee waited on us with a handsome present, and informed us privately

of his cordial hatred of the "upstart Dewan," and hopes for his

overthrow; a demonstration of which we took no notice.* [Nothing

would have been easier than for the Gangtok Kajee, or any other

respectable man in Sikkim, to have overthrown the Dewan and his

party; but these people are intolerably apathetic, and prefer being

tyrannized over to the trouble of shaking off the yoke.] The Dewan's

brother (one of the Amlah) also sent a large present, but was ashamed

to appear. Another letter reached the Dewan here, directed to the

Rajah; it was from the Governor-General at Bombay, and had been sent

across the country by special messengers: it demanded our instant

release, or his Raj would be forfeited; and declared that if a hair

of our heads were touched, his life should be the penalty.

The Rajah was also incessantly urging the Dewan to hasten us onwards

as free men to Dorjiling, but the latter took all remonstrances with

assumed coolness, exercised his ponies, played at bow and arrow,

intruded on us at mealtimes to be invited to partake, and loitered on

the road, changing garments and hats, which he pestered us to buy.

Nevertheless, be was evidently becoming daily more nervous

and agitated.

From the Rungmi valley we crossed on the 14th southward to that of

Runniok, and descended to Dikkeeling, a large village of Dhurma

Bhoteeas (Bhotanese), which is much the most populous, industrious,

and at the same time turbulent, in Sikkim. It is 4,950 feet above the

sea, and occupies many broad cultivated spurs facing the south.

This district once belonged to Bhotan, and was ceded to the Sikkim

Rajah by the Paro Pilo,* [The temporal sovereign, in

contra-distinction to the Dhurma Rajah, or spiritual sovereign of

Bhotan.] in consideration of some military services, rendered by the

former in driving off the Tibetans, who had usurped it for the

authorities of Lhassa. Since then the Sikkim and Bhotan people have

repeatedly fallen out, and Dikkeeling has become a refuge for runaway

Bhotanese, and kidnapping is constantly practised on this frontier.

The Dewan halted us here for three days, for no assigned cause.

On the 16th, letters arrived, including a most kind and encouraging

one from Mr. Lushington, who had taken charge of Campbell's office at

Dorjiling. Immediately after arriving, the messenger was seized with

violent vomitings and gripings: we could not help suspecting poison,

especially as we were now amongst adherents of the Dewan, and the

Bhotanese are notorious for this crime. Only one means suggested

itself for proving this, and with Campbell's permission I sent my

compliments to the Dewan, with a request for one of his hunting dogs

to eat the vomit. It was sent at once, and performed its duty without

any ill effects. I must confess to having felt a malicious pleasure

in the opportunity thus afforded of showing our jailor how little we

trusted him; feeling indignant at the idea that he should suppose he

was making any way in our good opinion by his familiarities, which we

were not in circumstances to resist.

The crafty fellow, however, outwitted me by inviting us to dine with

him the same day, and putting our stomachs and noses to a severe

test. Our dinner was served in Chinese fashion, but most of the

luxuries, such as _beche-de-mer,_ were very old and bad. We ate,

sometimes with chop-sticks, and at others with Tibetan spoons,

knives, and two-pronged forks. After the usual amount of messes

served in oil and salt water, sweets were brought, and a strong

spirit. Thoba-sing, our filthy, cross-eyed spy, was waiter, and

brought in every little dish with both hands, and raised it to his

greasy forehead, making a sort of half bow previous to depositing it

before us. Sometimes he undertook to praise its contents, always

adding, that in Tibet none but very great men indeed partook of such

sumptuous fare. Thus he tried to please both us and the Dewan, who

conducted himself with pompous hospitality, showing off what he

considered his elegant manners and graces. Our blood boiled within us

at being so patronised by the squinting ruffian, whose insolence and

ill-will had sorely aggravated the discomforts of our imprisonment.

Not content with giving us what he considered a magnificent dinner

(and it had cost him some trouble), the Dewan produced a little bag

from a double-locked escritoire, and took out three dinner-pills,

which he had received as a great favour from the Rimbochay Lama, and

which were a sovereign remedy for indigestion and all other ailments;

he handed one to each of us, reserving the third for himself.

Campbell refused his; but there appeared no help for me, after my

groundless suspicion of poison, and so I swallowed the pill with the

best grace I could. But in truth, it was not poison I dreaded in its

contents, so much as being compounded of some very questionable

materials, such as the Rimbochay Lama blesses and dispenses far and

wide. To swallow such is a sanctifying work, according to Boodhist

superstition, and I believe there was nothing in the world, save his

ponies, to which the Dewan attached a greater value.

To wind up the feast, we had pipes of excellent mild yellow Chinese

tobacco called "Tseang," made from _Nicotiana rustica,_ which is

cultivated in East Tibet, and in West China according to MM. Huc and

Gabet. It resembles in flavour the finest Syrian tobacco, and is most

agreeable when the smoke is passed through the nose. The common

tobacco of India (_Nicotiana Tabacum_) is much imported into Tibet,

where it is called "Tamma," (probably a corruption of the Persian

"Toombac,") and is said to fetch the enormous price of 30 shllings

per lb. at Lhassa, which is sixty times its value in India. Rice at

Lhassa, when cheap, sells at 2 shillings for 5 lbs.; it is, as I have

elsewhere said, all bought up for rations for the Chinese soldiery.

The Bhotanese are more industrious than the Lepchas, and better

husbandmen; besides having superior crops of all ordinary grains,

they grow cotton, hemp, and flax. The cotton is cleansed here as

elsewhere, with a simple gin. The Lepchas use no spinning wheel, but

a spindle and distaff; their loom, which is Tibetan is a very

complicated one framed of bamboo; it is worked by hand, without beam

treddle, or shuttle.

On the 18th we were marched, three miles only, to Singdong (alt.

2,116 feet), and on the following day five miles farther, to Katong

Ghat (alt. 750 feet), on the Teesta river, which we crossed with

rafts, and camped on the opposite bank, a few miles above the

junction of this river with the Great Rungeet. The water, which is

sea-green in colour, had a temperature of 53.5 degrees at 4 p.m.,

and 51.7 degrees the following morning; its current was very

powerful. The rocks, since leaving Tunlloong, had been generally

micaceous, striking north-west, and dipping north-east. The climate

was hot, and the vegetation on the banks tropical; on the hills

around, lemon-bushes ("Kucheala," Lepcha) were abundant, growing

apparently wild.

The Dewan was now getting into a very nervous and depressed state; he

was determined to keep up appearances before his followers, but was

himself almost servile to us; he caused his men to make a parade of

their arms, as if to intimidate us, and in descending narrow gullies

we had several times the disagreeable surprise of finding some of his

men at a sudden turn, with drawn bows and arrows pointed towards us.

Others gesticulated with their long knives, and made fell swoops at

soft plantain-stems; but these artifices were all as shallow as they

were contemptible, and a smile at such demonstrations was generally

answered with another from the actors.

From Katong we ascended the steep east flank of Tendong or Mount

Ararat, through forests of Sal and long-leaved pine, to Namten (alt.

4,483 feet), where we again halted two days. The Dingpun Tinli lived

near and waited on us with a present, which, with all others that

had been brought, Campbell received officially, and transferred to

the authorities at Dorjiling.

The Dewan was thoroughly alarmed at the news here brought in, that

the Rajah's present of yaks, ponies, etc., which had been sent

forward, had been refused at Dorjiling; and equally so at the

clamorous messages which reached him from all quarters, demanding our

liberation; and at the desertion of some of his followers, on hearing

that large bodies of troops were assembling at Dorjiling. Repudiated

by his Rajah and countrymen, and paralysed between his dignity and

his ponies, which he now perceived would not be welcomed at the

station, and which were daily losing flesh, looks, and value in these

hot valleys, where there is no grass pasture, he knew not what

olive-branch to hold out to our government, except ourselves, whom he

therefore clung to as hostages.

On the 22nd of December he marched us eight miles further, to

Cheadam, on a bold spur 4,653 feet high, overlooking the Great

Rungeet, and facing Dorjiling, from which it was only twenty miles

distant. The white bungalows of our friends gladdened our eyes, while

the new barracks erecting for the daily arriving troops struck terror

into the Dewan's heart. The six Sepoys* [These Sepoys, besides the

loose red jacket and striped Lepcha kirtle, wore a very curious

national black hat of felt, with broad flaps turned up all round:

this is represented in the right-hand figure. A somewhat similar bat

is worn by some classes of Nepal soldiery.] who had marched valiantly

beside us for twenty days, carrying the muskets given to the Rajah

the year before by the Governor-General, now lowered their arms, and

vowed that if a red coat crossed the Great Rungeet, they would throw

down their guns and run away. News arrived that the Bhotan

inhabitants of Dorjiling headed by my bold Sirdar Nimbo, had arranged

a night attack for our release; an enterprise to which they were

quite equal, and in which they have had plenty of practice in their

own misgoverned country. Watch-fires gleamed amongst the bushes, we

were thrust into a doubly-guarded house, and bows and arrows were

ostentatiously levelled so as to rake the doorway, should we attempt

to escape. Some of the ponies were sent back to Dikkeeling, though

the Dewan still clung to his merchandise and the feeble hope of

traffic. The confusion increased daily, but though Tchebu Lama looked

brisk and confident, we were extremely anxious; scouts were hourly

arriving from the road to the Great Rungeet, and if our troops had

advanced, the Dewan might have made away with us from pure fear.

Illustration--LEPCHA SEPOYS. TIBETAN SEPAYS IN THE BACK-GROUND.

In the forenoon he paid us a long visit, and brought some flutes, of

which he gave me two very common ones of apricot wood from Lhassa,

producing at the same time a beautiful one, which I believe he

intended for Campbell, but his avarice got the better, and he

commuted his gift into the offer of a tune, and pitching it in a high

key, he went through a Tibetan air that almost deafened us by its

screech. He tried bravely to maintain his equanimity, but as we

preserved a frigid civility and only spoke when addressed, the tears

would start from his eyes in the pauses of conversation. In the

evening he came again; he was excessively agitated and covered with

perspiration, and thrust himself unceremoniously between us on the

bench we occupied. As his familiarity increased, he put his arm round

my neck, and as he was armed with a small dagger, I felt rather

uneasy about his intentions, but he ended by forcing on my acceptance

a coin, value threepence, for he was in fact beside himself

with terror.

Next morning Campbell received a hint that this was a good

opportunity for a vigorous remonstrance. The Dewan came with Tchebu

Lama, his own younger brother (who was his pony driver), and the

Lassoo Kajee. The latter had for two months placed himself in an

attitude of hostility opposite Dorjiling, with a ragged company of

followers, but he now sought peace and friendship as much as the

Dewan; the latter told us he was waiting for a reply to a letter

addressed to Mr. Lushington, after which he would set us free.

Campbell said: "As you appear to have made up your mind, why not

dismiss us at once?" He answered that we should go the next day at

all events: Here I came in, and on hearing from Campbell what had

passed, I added, that he had better for his own sake let us go at

once; that the next day was our great and only annual Poojah

(religious festival) of Christmas, when we all met; whereas he and

his countrymen had dozens in the year. As for me, he knew I had no

wife, nor children, nor any relation, within thousands of miles, and

it mattered little where I was, he was only bringing ruin on himself

by his conduct to me as the Governor-General's friend; but as

regarded Campbell, the case was different; his home was at Dorjiling,

which was swarming with English soldiers, all in a state of

exasperation, and if he did not let us depart before Christmas, he

would find Dorjiling too hot to hold him, let him offer what

reparation he might for the injuries he had done us. I added: "We are

all ready to go--dismiss us." The Dewan again turned to Campbell, who

said, "I am quite ready; order us ponies at once, and send our

luggage after us." He then ordered the ponies, and three men,

including Meepo, to attend us; whereupon we walked out, mounted, and

made off with all speed.

We arrived at the cane bridge over the Great Rungeet at 4 p.m., and

to our chagrin found it in the possession of a posse of ragged

Bhoteeas, though there were thirty armed Sepoys of our own at the

guard-house above. At Meepo's order they cut the network of fine

canes by which they had rendered the bridge impassable, and we

crossed. The Sepoys at the guard-house turned out with their clashing

arms and bright accoutrements, and saluted to the sound of bugles;

scaring our three companions, who ran back as fast as they could go.

We rode up that night to Dorjiling, and I arrived at 8 p.m. at

Hodgson's house, where I was taken for a ghost, and received with

shouts of welcome by my kind friend and his guest Dr. Thomson, who

had been awaiting my arrival for upwards of a month.

Thus terminated our Sikkim captivity, and my last Himalayan exploring

journey, which in a geographical point of view had answered my

purposes beyond my most sanguine expectations, though my collections

had been in a great measure destroyed by so many untoward events.

It enabled me to survey the whole country, and to execute a map of

it, and Campbell had further gained that knowledge of its resources

which the British government should all along have possessed, as the

protector of the Rajah and his territories.

It remains to say a few words of the events that succeeded our

release, in so far as they relate to my connection with them.

The Dewan moved from Cheadam to Namtchi, immediately opposite

Dorjiling, where he remained throughout the winter. The supreme

government of Bengal demanded of the Rajah that he should deliver up

the most notorious offenders, and come himself to Dorjiling, on pain

of an army marching to Tumloong to enforce the demand; a step which

would have been easy, as there were neither troops, arms, ammunition,

nor other means of resistance, even had there been the inclination to

stop us, which was not the case. The Rajah would in all probability

have delivered himself up at Tumloong, throwing himself on our mercy,

and the army would have sought the culprits in vain, both the spirit

and the power to capture them being wanting on the part of the people

and their ruler.

The Rajah expressed his willingness, but pleaded his inability to

fulfil the demand, whereupon the threat was repeated, and additional

reinforcements were moved on to Dorjiling. The general officer in

command at Dinapore was ordered to Dorjiling to conduct operations:

his skill and bravery had been proved during the progress of the

Nepal war so long ago as 1815. From the appearance of the country

about Dorjiling, he was led to consider Sikkim to be impracticable

for a British army. This was partly owing to the forest-clad

mountains, and partly to the fear of Tibetan troops coming to the

Rajah's aid, and the Nepalese* [Jung Bahadoor was at this time

planning his visit to England, and to his honour I must say, that on

hearing of our imprisonment he offered to the government at Calcutta

to release us with a handful of men. This he would no doubt have

easily effected, but his offer was wisely declined, for the Nepalese

(as I have elsewhere stated) want Sikkim and Bhotan too, and we had

undertaken the protection of the former country, mainly to keep the

Nepalese out of it.] taking the opportunity to attack us. With the

latter we were in profound peace, and we had a resident at their

court; and I have elsewhere shown the impossibility of a Tibet

invasion, even if the Chinese or Lhassan authorities were inclined to

interfere in the affairs of Sikkim, which they long ago formally

declined doing in the case of aggressions of the Nepalese and

Bhotanese, the Sikkim Rajah being under British protection.* [The

general officer considered that our troops would have been cut to

pieces if they entered the country; and the late General Sir Charles

Napier has since given evidence to the same effect. Having been

officially asked at the time whether I would guide a party into the

country, and having drawn up (at the request of the general officer)

plans for the purpose, and having given it as my opinion that it

would not only have been feasible but easy to have marched a force in

peace and safety to Tumloong, I feel it incumbent on me here to

remark, that I think General Napier, who never was in Sikkim, and

wrote from many hundred miles' distance, must have misapprehended the

state of the case. Whether an invasion of Sikkim was either advisable

or called for, was a matter in which I had no concern: nor do I offer

an opinion as to the impregnability of the country if it were

defended by natives otherwise a match for a British force, and having

the advantage of position. I was not consulted with reference to any

difference of opinion between the civil and military powers, such as

seems to have called for the expression of Sir Charles Napier's

opinion on this matter, and which appears to be considerably

overrated in his evidence.

The general officer honoured me with his friendship at Dorjiling, and

to Mr. Lushington, I am, as I have elsewhere stated, under great

obligations for his personal consideration and kindness, and vigorous

measures during my detention. On my release and return to Dorjiling,

any interference on my part would have been meddling with what was

not my concern. I never saw, nor wished to see, a public document

connected with the affair, and have only given as many of the leading

features of the case as I can vouch for, and as were accessible to

any other bystander.]

There were not wanting offers of leading a company of soldiers to

Tumloong, rather than that the threat should have twice been made,

and then withdrawn; but they were not accepted. A large body of

troops was however, marched from Dorjiling, and encamped on the north

bank of the Great Rungeet for some weeks: but after that period they

were recalled, without any further demonstration; the Dewan remaining

encamped the while on the Namtchi hill, not three hours' march above

them. The simple Lepchas daily brought our soldiers milk, fowls, and

eggs, and would have continued to do so had they proceeded to

Tumloong, for I believe both Rajah and people would have rejoiced at

our occupation of the country.

After the withdrawal of the troops, the threat was modified into a

seizure of the Terai lands, which the Rajah had originally received

as a free gift from the British, and which were the only lucrative or

fertile estates he possessed. This was effected by four policemen

taking possession of the treasury (which contained exactly twelve

shillings, I believe), and announcing to the villagers the

confiscation of the territory to the British government, in which

they gladly acquiesced. At the same time there was annexed to it the

whole southern part of Sikkim, between the Great Rungeet and the

plains of India, and from Nepal on the west to the Bhotan frontier

and the Teesta river on the east; thus confining the Rajah to his

mountains, and cutting off all access to the plains, except through

the British territories. To the inhabitants (about 5000 souls) this

was a matter of congratulation, for it only involved the payment of a

small fixed tax in money to the treasury at Dorjiling, instead of a

fluctuating one in kind, with service to the Rajah, besides exempting

them from further annoyance by the Dewan. At the present time the

revenues of the tract thus acquired have doubled, and will very soon

be quadrupled: every expense of our detention and of the moving of

troops, etc., has been already repaid by it, and for the future all

will be clear profit; and I am given to understand that this last

year it has realized upwards of 30,000 rupees (3000 pounds).

Dr. Campbell resumed his duties immediately afterwards, and the

newly-acquired districts were placed under his jurisdiction. The

Rajah still begs hard for the renewal of old friendship, and the

restoration of his Terai land, or the annual grant of 300 pounds a

year which he formerly received. He has forbidden the culprits his

court, but can do no more. The Dewan, disgraced and turned out of

office, is reduced to poverty, and is deterred from entering Tibet by

the threat of being dragged to Lhassa with a rope round his neck.

Considering, however, his energy, a rare quality in these countries,

I should not be surprised at his yet cutting a figure in Bhotan, if

not in Sikkim itself: especially if, at the Rajah's death, the

British government should refuse to take the country under its

protection. The Singtam Soubah and the other culprits live disgraced

at their homes. Tchebu Lama has received a handsome reward, and a

grant of land at Dorjiling, where he resides, and whence he sends me

his salaams by every opportunity.

CHAPTER XXVII.

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_),

_Dracaenae,_ 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.* [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 _Phoenix 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 _Orchideae_ 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*

[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.] 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.

_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:* [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.]

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 (_Dionaea 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.

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,* [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.] 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.

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 degrees

to 85 degrees. 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 degrees; 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 degrees, and

fell to 78 degrees at night: the mean was 2.5 degrees 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 degrees to 89.8 degrees, being considerably

lower than that of the air (94.2 degrees), whilst that of a fine

ripening shaddock, into which I plunged a thermometer bulb, varied

little from 81 degrees, 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 degrees or 5 degrees 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,_* [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.] 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.

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 degrees; 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 degrees 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 _Rottboellia_) 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 cotemporaneous 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

palaeontologist; 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. chapter xvii).

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.* [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 degrees.]

China roses and tropical plants (_Bignoniae, Asclepiadeae,_ 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,* [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.] 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.

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,* [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.]

always exposed in the heat of the day to wet and fatigue, and never

having even a _soupcon_ 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.

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 degrees 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*

[Temperature in September 77 degrees to 80 degrees; and in November

75.7 degrees.] 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.

Himalayan Journals — Volume 2 Or, Notes of a Naturalist in Bengal, the Sikkim and Nepal Himalayas, the Khasia Mountains, etc. · 第 16 / 21 章

A very remarkable plant, which I had seen in flower in the Lachen