EXCURSION TO TERAI.
Dispatch collections -- Acorns -- Heat -- Punkabaree -- Bees --
Vegetation -- Haze -- Titalya -- Earthquake -- Proceed to Nepal
frontier -- Terai, geology of -- Physical features of Himalayan
valleys -- Elephants, purchase of, etc. -- Riverbeds -- Mechi river
-- Return to Titalya -- Leave for Teesta -- Climate of plains --
Jeelpigoree -- Cooches -- Alteration in the appearance of country by
fires, etc. -- Grasses -- Bamboos -- Cottages -- Rajah of Cooch Behar
-- Condition of people -- Hooli festival -- Ascend Teesta -- Canoes
-- Cranes -- Forest -- Baikant-pore -- Rummai -- Religion -- Plants
at foot of mountains -- Exit of Teesta -- Canoe voyage down to
Rangamally -- English genera of plants -- Birds -- Beautiful Scenery
-- Botanizing on elephants -- Willow -- Siligoree -- Cross Terai --
Geology -- Iron -- Lohar-ghur -- Coal and sandstone beds -- Mechi
fisherman -- Hailstorm -- Ascent to Khersiong -- To Dorjiling --
Vegetation -- Geology -- Folded quartz-beds -- Spheres of feldspar --
Lime deposits.
Having arranged the collections (amounting to eighty loads) made
during 1848, they were conveyed by coolies to the foot of the hills,
where carts were provided to carry them five days' journey to the
Mahanuddy river, which flows into the Ganges, whence they were
transported by water to Calcutta.
On the 27th of February, I left Dorjiling to join Mr. Hodgson, at
Titalya on the plains. The weather was raw, cold, and threatening:
snow lay here and there at 7000 feet, and all vegetation was very
backward, and wore a wintry garb. The laurels, maples, and
deciduous-leaved oaks, hydrangea and cherry, were leafless, but the
abundance of chesnuts and evergreen oaks, rhododendrons, _Aucuba,
Linonia,_ and other shrubs, kept the forest well clothed. The oaks
had borne a very unusual number of acorns during the last season,
which were now falling, and strewing the road in some places so
abundantly, that it was hardly safe to ride down hill.
The plains of Bengal were all but obscured by a dense haze, partly
owing to a peculiar state of the atmosphere that prevails in the dry
months, and partly to the fires raging in the Terai forest, from
which white wreaths of smoke ascended, stretching obliquely for miles
to the eastward, and filling the air with black particles of
grass-stems, carried 4000 feet aloft by the heated ascending currents
that impinge against the flanks of the mountains.
In the tropical region the air was scented with the white blossoms of
the _Vitex Agnus-castus,_ which grew in profusion by the road-side;
but the forest, which had looked so gigantic on my arrival at the
mountains the previous year, appeared small after the far more lofty
and bulky oaks and pines of the upper regions of the Himalaya.
The evening was sultry and close, the heated surface of the earth
seemed to load the surrounding atmosphere with warm vapours, and the
sensation, as compared with the cool pure air of Dorjiling, was that
of entering a confined tropical harbour after a long sea-voyage.
I slept in the little bungalow of Punkabaree, and was wakened next
morning by sounds to which I had long been a stranger, the voices of
innumerable birds, and the humming of great bees that bore large
holes for their dwellings in the beams and rafters of houses: never
before had I been so forcibly struck with the absence of animal life
in the regions of the upper Himalaya.
Breakfasting early, I pursued my way in the so-called cool of the
morning, but this was neither bright nor fresh; the night having been
hazy, there had been no terrestrial radiation, and the earth was
dusty and parched; while the sun rose through a murky yellowish
atmosphere with ill-defined orb. Thick clouds of smoke pressed upon
the plains, and the faint easterly wind wafted large flakes of grass
charcoal sluggishly through the air.
Vegetation was in great beauty, though past its winter prime. The
tropical forest of India has two flowering seasons; one in summer, of
the majority of plants; and the other in winter, of _Acanthaceae,
Bauhinia, Dillenia, Bombax,_ etc. Of these the former are abundant,
and render the jungle gay with large and delicate white, red, and
purple blossoms. Coarse, ill-favoured vultures wheeled through the
air, languid Bengalees had replaced the active mountaineers,
jackal-like curs of low degree teemed at every village, and ran
howling away from the onslaught of my mountain dog; and the tropics,
with all their beauty of flower and genial warmth, looked as forbidding
and unwholesome as they felt oppressive to a frame that had so long
breathed the fresh mountain air.
Mounted on a stout pony, I enjoyed my scamper of sixteen miles over
the wooded plains and undulating gravelly slopes of the Terai,
intervening between the foot of the mountains and Siligoree bungalow,
where I rested for an hour. In the afternoon I rode on leisurely to
Titalya, sixteen miles further, along the banks of the Mahanuddy, the
atmosphere being so densely hazy, that objects a few miles off were
invisible, and the sun quite concealed, though its light was so
powerful that no part of the sky could be steadily gazed upon.
This state of the air is very curious, and has met with various
attempts at explanation,* [Dr. M'Lelland ("Calcutta Journal of
Natural History," vol. i, p. 52), attributes the haze of the
atmosphere during the north-west winds of this season, wholly to
suspended earthy particles. But the haze is present even in the
calmest weather, and extreme dryness is in all parts of the world
usually accompanied by an obscure horizon. Captain Campbell
("Calcutta Journal of Natural History," vol. ii, p. 44.) also objects
to Dr. M'Clelland's theory, citing those parts of Southern India
which are least likely to be visited by dust-storms, as possessing an
equally hazy atmosphere; and further denies its being influenced by
the hygrometric state of the atmosphere.] all unsatisfactory to me:
it accompanies great heat, dryness, and elasticity of the suspended
vapours, and is not affected by wind. During the afternoon the latter
blew with violence, but being hot and dry, brought no relief to my
still unacclimated frame. My pony alone enjoyed the freedom of the
boundless plains, and the gallop or trot being fatiguing in the heat,
I tried in vain to keep him at a walk; his spirits did not last long,
however, for he flagged after a few days' tropical heat. My little
dog had run thirty miles the day before, exclusive of all the detours
he had made for his own enjoyment, and he flagged so much after
twenty more this day, that I had to take him on my saddle-bow, where,
after licking his hot swollen feet, he fell fast asleep, in spite of
the motion.
After leaving the wooded Terai at Siligoree, trees became scarce, and
clumps of bamboos were the prevalent features; these, with an
occasional banyan, peepul, or betel-nut palm near the villages, were
the only breaks on the distant horizon. A powerfully scented
_Clerodendron,_ and an _0sbeckia_ gay with blossoms like dog-roses,
were abundant; the former especially under trees, where the seeds are
dropped by birds.
At Titalya bungalow, I received a hearty welcome from Mr. Hodgson,
and congratulations on the success of my Nepal journey, which
afforded a theme for many conversations.
In the evening we had three sharp jerking shocks of an earthquake in
quick succession, at 9.8 p.m., appearing to come up from the
southward: they were accompanied by a hollow rumbling sound like that
of a waggon passing over a wooden bridge. The shock was felt strongly
at Dorjiling, and registered by Mr. Muller at 9.10 p.m.: we had
accurately adjusted our watches (chronometers) the previous morning,
and the motion may therefore fairly be assumed to have been
transmitted northwards through the intervening distance of forty
miles, in two minutes. Both Mr. Muller and Mr. Hodgson had noted a
much more severe shock at 6.10 p.m. the previous evening, which I,
who was walking down the mountain, did not experience; this caused a
good deal of damage at Dorjiling, in cracking well-built walls.
Earthquakes are frequent all along the Himalaya, and are felt far in
Tibet; they are, however, most common towards the eastern and western
extremities of India; owing in the former case to the proximity of
the volcanic forces in the bay of Bengal. Cutch and Scinde, as is
well known, have suffered severely on many occasions, and in several
of them the motion has been propagated through Affghanistan and
Little Tibet, to the heart of Central Asia.* [See "Wood's Travels to
the Oxus."]
On the morning of the 1st of March, Dr. Campbell arrived at the
bungalow, from his tour of inspection along the frontier of Bhotan
and the Rungpore district; and we accompanied him hence along the
British and Sikkim frontier, as far west as the Mechi river, which
bounds Nepal on the east.
Terai is a name loosely applied to a tract of country at the very
foot of the Himalaya: it is Persian, and signifies damp. Politically,
the Terai generally belongs to the hill-states beyond it;
geographically, it should appertain to the plains of India; and
geologically, it is a sort of neutral country, being composed neither
of the alluvium of the plains, nor of the rocks of the hills, but for
the most part of alternating beds of sand, gravel, and boulders
brought from the mountains. Botanically it is readily defined as the
region of forest-trees; amongst which the Sal, the most valuable
of Indian timber, is conspicuous in most parts, though not now in
Sikkim, where it has been destroyed. The Terai soil is generally
light, dry, and gravelly (such as the Sal always prefers), and varies
in breadth, from ten miles, along the Sikkim frontier, to thirty and
more on the Nepalese. In the latter country it is called the Morung,
and supplies Sal and Sissoo timber for the Calcutta market, the logs
being floated down the Konki and Cosi rivers to the Ganges.
The gravel-beds extend uninterruptedly upon the plains for fully
twenty miles south of the Sikkim mountains, the gravel becoming
smaller as the distance increases, and large blocks of stone not
being found beyond a few miles from the rocks of the Himalaya itself,
even in the beds of rivers, however large and rapid. Throughout its
breadth this formation is conspicuously cut into flat-topped
terraces, flanking the spurs of the mountains, at elevations varying
from 250 to nearly 1000 feet above the sea. These terraces are of
various breadth and length, the smallest lying uppermost, and the
broadest flanking the rivers below. The isolated hills beyond are
also flat-topped and terraced. This deposit contains no fossils; and
its general appearance and mineral constituents are the only evidence
of its origin, which is no doubt due to a retiring ocean that washed
the base of the Sikkim Himalaya, received the contents of its rivers,
and, wearing away its bluff spurs, spread a talus upwards of 1000
feet thick along its shores. It is not at first sight evident whether
the terracing is due to periodic retirements of the ocean, or to the
levelling effects of rivers that have cut channels through the
deposit. In many places, especially along the banks of the great
streams, the gravel is smaller, obscurely interstratified with sand,
and the flattened pebbles over-lap rudely, in a manner characteristic
of the effects of running water; but such is not the case with the
main body of the deposit, which is unstratified, and much coarser.
The alluvium of the Gangetic valley is both interstratified with the
gravel, and passes into it, and was no doubt deposited in deep water,
whilst the coarser matter* [This, too, is non-fossiliferous, and is
of unknown depth, except at Calcutta, where the sand and clay beds
have been bored through, to the depth of 120 feet, below which the
first pebbles were met with. Whence these pebbles were derived is a
curious problem. The great Himalayan rivers convey pebbles but a very
few miles from the mountains on to the plains of India; and there is
no rock _in situ_ above the surface, within many miles of Calcutta,
in any direction.] was accumulating at the foot of the mountains.
This view is self-evident, and has occurred, I believe, to almost
every observer, at whatever part of the base of the Himalaya he may
have studied this deposit. Its position, above the sandstones of the
Sewalik range in the north-west Himalaya, and those of Sikkim, which
appear to be modern fossiliferous rocks, indicates its being
geologically of recent formation; but it still remains a subject of
the utmost importance to discover the extent and nature of the ocean
to whose agency it is referred. I have elsewhere remarked that the
alluvium of the Gangetic valley may to a great degree be the measure
of the denudation which the Himalaya has suffered along its Indian
watershed. It was, no doubt, during the gradual rise of that chain
from the ocean, that the gravel and alluvium were deposited; and in
the terraces and alternation of these, there is evidence that there
have been many subsidences and elevations of the coast-line, during
which the gravel has suffered greatly from denudation.
I have never looked at the Sikkim Himalaya from the plains without
comparing its bold spurs enclosing sinuous river gorges, to the
weather-beaten front of a mountainous coast; and in following any of
its great rivers, the scenery of its deep valleys no less strikingly
resembles that of such narrow arms of the sea (or fiords) as
characterize every mountainous coast, of whatever geological
formation: such as the west coast of Scotland and Norway, of South
Chili and Fuegia, of New Zealand and Tasmania. There are too in these
Himalayan valleys, at all elevations below 600 feet, terraced
pebble-beds, rising in some cases eighty feet above the rivers, which
I believe could only have been deposited by them when they debouched
into deep water; and both these, and the beds of the rivers, are
strewed, down to 1000 feet, with masses of rock. Such accumulations
and transported blocks are seen on the raised beaches of our narrow
Scottish salt water lochs, exposed by the rising of the land, and
they are yet forming of immense thickness on many coasts by the joint
action of tides and streams.
I have described meeting with ancient moraines in every Himalayan
valley I ascended, at or about 7000 or 8000 feet elevation, proving,
that at one period, the glaciers descended fully so much below the
position they now occupy: this can only be explained by a change of
climate,* [Such a change of temperature, without any depression or
elevation of the mountains, has been thought by Capt. R. Strachey
("Journal of Geological Society"), an able Himalayan observer, to be
the necessary consequence of an ocean at the foot of these mountains;
for the amount of perpetual snow, and consequent descent of the
glaciers, increasing indirectly in proportion to the humidity of the
climate, and the snow-fall, he conjectured that the proximity of the
ocean would prodigiously increase such a deposition of snow.--To me,
this argument appears inconclusive; for the first effect of such a
vast body of water would be to raise the temperature of winter; and
as it is the rain, rather than the sun of summer, which removes the
Sikkim snow, so would an increase of this rain elevate, rather than
depress, the level of perpetual snow.] or by a depression of the
mountain mass equal to 8000 feet, since the formation of these
moraines.
The country about Titalya looks desert, from that want of trees and
cultivation, so characteristic of the upper level throughout this
part of the plains, which is covered with short, poor pasture-grass.
The bungalow stands close to the Mahanuddy, on a low hill, cut into
an escarpment twenty feet high, which exposes a section of river-laid
sand and gravel, alternating with thick beds of rounded pebbles.
Shortly after Dr. Campbell's arrival, the meadows about the bungalow
presented a singular appearance, being dotted over with elephants,
brought for purchase by Government. It was curious to watch the
arrival of these enormous animals, which were visible nearly two
miles across the flat plains; nor less interesting was it to observe
the wonderful docility of these giants of the animal kingdom, often
only guided by naked boys, perched on their necks, scolding,
swearing, and enforcing their orders with the iron goad.
There appeared as many tricks in elephant-dealers as in
horse-jockeys, and of many animals brought, but few were purchased.
Government limits the price to about 75 pounds, and the height to the
shoulder must not be under seven feet, which, incredible as it
appears, may be estimated within a fraction as being three times the
circumference of the forefoot. The pedigree is closely inquired into,
the hoofs are examined for cracks, the teeth for age, and many other
points attended to.
The Sikkim frontier, from the Mahanuddy westward to the Mechi, is
marked out by a row of tall posts. The country is undulating; and
though fully 400 miles from the ocean, and not sixty from the top of
the loftiest mountain on the globe, its average level is not 300 feet
above that of the sea. The upper levels are gravelly, and loosely
covered with scattered thorny jujube bushes, occasionally tenanted by
the _Florican,_ which scours these downs like a bustard. Sometimes a
solitary fig, or a thorny acacia, breaks the horizon, and there are a
few gnarled trees of the scarlet _Butea frondosa._
On our route I had a good opportunity of examining the line of
junction between the alluvial plains that stretch south to the
Ganges, and the gravel deposit flanking the hills. The rivers always
cut broad channels with scarped terraced sides, and their low banks
are very fertile, from the mud annually spread by the ever-shifting
streams that meander within their limits; there are, however, few
shrubs and no trees. The houses, which are very few and scattered,
are built on the gravelly soil above, the lower level being
very malarious.
Thirty miles south of the mountains, numerous isolated flat-topped
hills, formed of stratified gravel and sand with large water-worn
pebbles, rise from 80 to 200 feet above the mean level, which is
about 250 feet above the sea; these, too, have always scarped sides,
and the channels of small streams completely encircle them.
At this season few insects but grasshoppers are to be seen, even
mosquitos being rare. Birds, however, abound, and we noticed the
common sparrow, hoopoe, water-wagtail, skylark, osprey, and
several egrets.
We arrived on the third day at the Mechi river, to the west of which
the Nepal Terai (or Morung) begins, whose belt of Sal forest loomed
on the horizon, so raised by refraction as to be visible as a dark
line, from the distance of many miles. It is, however, very poor, all
the large trees having been removed. We rode for several miles into
it, and found the soil dry and hard, but supporting a prodigious
undergrowth of gigantic harsh grasses that reached to our heads,
though we were mounted on elephants. Besides Sal there was abundance
of _Butea, Diospyros, Terminalia,_ and _Symplocos,_ with the dwarf
_Phoenix_ palm, and occasionally _Cycas._ Tigers, wild elephants, and
the rhinoceros, are said to be found here; but we saw none.
The old and new Mechi rivers are several miles apart, but flow in the
same depression, a low swamp many miles broad, which is grazed at
this season, and cultivated during the rains. The grass is very rich,
partly owing to the moisture of the climate, and partly to the
retiring waters of the rivers; both circumstances being the effects
of proximity to the Himalaya. Hence cattle (buffalos and the common
humped cow of India) are driven from the banks of the Ganges 300
miles to these feeding grounds, for the use of which a trifling tax
is levied on each animal. The cattle are very carelessly herded, and
many are carried off by tigers.
Having returned to Titalya, Mr. Hodgson and I set off in an eastern
direction for the Teesta river, whose embouchure from the mountains
to the plains I was anxious to visit. Though the weather is hot, and
oppressively so in the middle of the day, there are few climates more
delicious than that of these grassy savannahs from December to March.
We always started soon after daybreak on ponies, and enjoyed a twelve
to sixteen miles' gallop in the cool of the morning before breakfast,
which we found prepared on our arrival at a tent sent on ahead the
night before. The road led across an open country, or followed paths
through interminable rice-fields, now dry and dusty. On poor soil a
white-flowered _Leucas_ monopolized the space, like our charlock and
poppy: it was apparently a pest to the agriculturist, covering the
surface in some places like a sprinkling of snow. Sometimes the
river-beds exposed fourteen feet of pure stratified sand, with only
an inch of vegetable soil above.
At this season the mornings are very hazy, with the thermometer at
sunrise 60 degrees; one laid on grass during the night falling 7
degrees below that temperature: dew forms, but never copiously: by
10 a.m. the temperature has risen to 75 degrees, and the faint
easterly morning breezes die away; the haze thickens, and covers the
sky with a white veil, the thermometer rising to 82 degrees at noon,
and the west wind succeeding in parching tornados and furious gusts,
increasing with the temperature, which attains its maximum in the
afternoon, and falling again with its decline at sunset. The evenings
are calm; but the earth is so heated, that the thermometer stands at
10 p.m. at 66 degrees, and the minimum at night is not below 55
degrees: great drought accompanies the heat at this season, but not
to such a degree as in North-west India, or other parts of this
meridian further removed from the hills. In the month of March, and
during the prevalence of west winds, the mean temperature was 79
degrees, and the dew-point 22 degrees lower, indicating great
drought. The temperature at Calcutta was 7 degrees warmer, and the
atmosphere very much damper.
On the second day we arrived at Jeelpigoree, a large straggling
village near the banks of the Teesta, a good way south of the forest:
here we were detained for several days, waiting for elephants with
which to proceed northwards. The natives are Cooches, a Mogul
(Mongolian) race, who inhabit the open country of this district,
replacing the Mechis of the Terai forest. They are a fine athletic
people, not very dark, and formed the once-powerful house of Cooch
Behar. Latterly the upper classes have adopted the religion of the
Brahmins, and have had caste conferred upon them; while the lower
orders have turned Mahomedans: these, chiefly agriculturists, are a
timid, oppressed class, who everywhere fled before us, and were with
difficulty prevailed upon even to direct us along our road. A rude
police is established by the British Government all over the country,
and to it the traveller applies for guides and assistance; but the
Conches were so shy and difficult to deal with, that we were
generally left to our own resources.
Grass is the prevailing feature of the country, as there are few
shrubs, and still fewer trees. Goats and the common Indian cow are
plentiful; but it is not swampy enough for the buffalo; and sheep are
scarce, on account of the heat of the climate. This uniformity of
feature over so immense an area is, however, due to the agency of
man, and is of recent introduction; as all concur in affirming, that
within the last hundred years the face of the country was covered
with the same long jungle-grasses which abound in the Terai forest;
and the troops cantoned at Titalya (a central position in these
plains) from 1816 to 1828, confirm this statement as far as their
immediate neighbourhood is concerned.
These gigantic _Gramineae_ seem to be destroyed by fire with
remarkable facility at one season of the year; and it is well that
this is the case; for, whether as a retainer of miasma, a shelter for
wild beasts, both carnivorous and herbivorous, alike dangerous to
man, or from their liability to ignite, and spread destruction far
and wide, the grass-jungles are most serious obstacles to
civilization. Next to the rapidity with which it can be cleared, the
adaptation of a great part of the soil to irrigation during the
rains, has greatly aided the bringing of it under cultivation.
By far the greater proportion of this universal short turf grass is
formed of _Andropogon acicularis, Cynodon Dactylon,_* [Called "Dhob."
This is the best pasture grass in the plains of India, and the only
one to be found over many thousands of square miles.] and in sandy
places, _Imperata cylindrica_; where the soil is wetter, _Ameletia
Indica_ is abundant, giving a heather-like colour to the turf, with
its pale purple flowers: wherever there is standing water, its
surface is reddened by the _Azolla,_ and _Salvinia_ is also common.
At Jeelpigoree we were waited upon by the Dewan, who governs the
district for the Rajah, a boy about ten years old, whose estates are
locked up during the trial of an interminable suit for the
succession, that has been instituted against him by a natural son of
the late Rajah: we found the Dewan to be a man of intelligence, who
promised us elephants as soon as the great Hooli festival, now
commenced, should be over.
The large village, at the time of our visit, was gay with holiday
dresses. It is surrounded by trees, chiefly of banyan, jack, mango,
peepul, and tamarind: interminable rice-fields extend on all sides,
and except bananas, slender betel-nut palms, and sometimes pawn, or
betel-pepper, there is little other extensive cultivation.
The rose-apple, orange, and pine-apple are rare, as are cocoa-nuts:
there are few date or fan-palms, and only occasionally poor crops of
castor-oil and sugar-cane. In the gardens I noticed jasmine,
_Justicia Adhatoda, Hibiscus,_ and others of the very commonest
Indian ornamental plants; while for food were cultivated
_Chenopodium,_ yams, sweet potatos, and more rarely peas, beans, and
gourds. Bamboos were planted round the little properties and smaller
clusters of houses, in oblong squares, the ridge on which the plants
grew being usually bounded by a shallow ditch. The species selected
was not the most graceful of its family; the stems, or culms, being
densely crowded, erect, as thick at the base as the arm, copiously
branching, and very feathery throughout their whole length of
sixty feet.
A gay-flowered _Osbeckia_ was common along the roadsides, and, with
a _Clerodendron,_* [_Clerodendron_ leaves, bruised, are used to kill
vermin, fly-blows, etc., in cattle; and the twigs form toothpicks.
The flowers are presented to Mahadeo, as a god of peace; milk, honey,
flowers, fruit, amrit (ambrosia), etc., being offered to the pacific
gods, as Vishnu, Krishna, etc.; while Mudar (_Asclepias_), Bhang
(_Cannabis sativa_), _Datura,_ flesh, blood, and spirituous liquors,
are offered to Siva, Doorga, Kali, and other demoniacal deities.]
whose strong, sweet odour was borne far through the air, formed a low
undershrub beneath every tree, generally intermixed with three ferns
(a _Polypodium, Pteris,_ and _Goniopteris_).
The cottages are remarkable, and have a very neat appearance,
presenting nothing but a low white-washed platform of clay, and an
enormous high, narrow, black, neatly thatched roof, so arched along
the ridge, that its eaves nearly touch the ground at each gable; and
looking at a distance like a gigantic round-backed elephant.
The walls are of neatly-platted bamboo: each window (of which there
are two) is crossed by slips of bamboo, and wants only glass to make
it look European; they have besides shutters of wattle, that open
upwards, projecting during the day like the port-hatches of a ship,
and let down at night. Within, the rooms are airy and clean: one end
contains the machans (bedsteads), the others some raised clay
benches, the fire, frequently an enormous Hookah, round wattled
stools, and various implements. The inhabitants appeared more than
ordinarily well-dressed; the men in loose flowing robes of fine
cotton or muslin, the women in the usual garb of a simple thick
cotton cloth, drawn tight immediately above the breast, and thence
falling perpendicularly to the knee; the colour of this is a bright
blue in stripes, bordered above and below with red.
I anticipated some novelty from a visit to a Durbar (court) so
distant from European influence as that of the Rajah of Jeelpigoree.
All Eastern courts, subject to the Company, are, however, now shorn
of much of their glory; and the condition of the upper classes is
greatly changed. Under the Mogul rule, the country was farmed out to
Zemindars, some of whom assumed the title of Rajah: they collected
the revenue for the Sovereign, retaining by law ten per cent. on all
that was realized: there was no intermediate class, the peasant
paying directly to the Zemindar, and he into the royal treasury.
Latterly the Zemindars have become farmers under the Company's rule;
and in the adjudication of their claims, Lord Cornwallis (then
Governor-General) made great sacrifices in their favour, levying only
a small tribute in proportion to their often great revenues, in the
hope that they would be induced to devote their energies, and some of
their means, to the improvement of the condition of the peasantry.
This expectation was not realized: the younger Zemindars especially,
subject to no restraint (except from aggressions on their
neighbours), fell into slothful habits, and the collecting of the
revenue became a trading speculation, entrusted to "middle men."
The Zemindar selects a number, who again are at liberty to collect
through the medium of several sub-renting classes. Hence the peasant
suffers, and except a generally futile appeal to the Rajah, he has no
redress. The law secures him tenure as long as he can pay his rent,
and to do this he has recourse to the usurer; borrowing in spring (at
50, and oftener 100 per cent.) the seed, plough, and bullocks: he
reaps in autumn, and what is then not required for his own use, is
sold to pay off part of his original debt, the rest standing over
till the next season; and thus it continues to accumulate, till,
overwhelmed with difficulties, he is ejected, or flees to a
neighbouring district. The Zemindar enjoys the same right of tenure
as the peasant: the amount of impost laid on his property was fixed
for perpetuity; whatever his revenue be, he must pay so much to the
Company, or he forfeits his estates, and they are put up for auction.
One evening we visited the young Rajah at his residence, which has
rather a good appearance at a distance, its white walls gleaming
through a dark tope of mango, betel, and cocoa-nut. A short rude
avenue leads to the entrance gate, under the trees of which a large
bazaar was being held; stocked with cloths, simple utensils,
ornaments, sweetmeats, five species of fish from the Teesta, and the
betel-nut.
We entered through a guard-house, where were some of the Rajah's
Sepoys in the European costume, and a few of the Company's troops,
lent to the Rajah as a security against some of the turbulent
pretenders to his title. Within was a large court-yard, flanked by a
range of buildings, some of good stone-work, some of wattle, in all
stages of disrepair. A great crowd of people occupied one end of the
court, and at the other we were received by the Dewan, and seated on
chairs under a canopy supported by slender silvered columns.
Some slovenly Natch-girls were dancing before us, kicking up clouds
of dust, and singing or rather bawling through their noses, the usual
indelicate hymns in honour of the Hooli festival; there were also
fiddlers, cutting uncouth capers in rhythm with the dancers.
Anything more deplorable than the music, dancing, and accompaniments,
cannot well be imagined; yet the people seemed vastly pleased, and
extolled the performers.
The arrival of the Rajah and his brothers was announced by a crash of
tom-toms and trumpets, while over their heads were carried great gilt
canopies. With them came a troop of relations, of all ages; and
amongst them a poor little black girl, dressed in honour of us in an
old-fashioned English chintz frock and muslin cap, in which she cut
the drollest figure imaginable; she was carried about for our
admiration, like a huge Dutch doll, crying lustily all the time.
The festivities of the evening commenced by handing round trays full
of pith-balls, the size of a nutmeg, filled with a mixture of flour,
sand, and red lac-powder; with these each pelted his neighbour, the
thin covering bursting as it struck any object, and powdering it
copiously with red dust. A more childish and disagreeable sport
cannot well be conceived; and when the balls were expended, the dust
itself was resorted to, not only fresh, but that which had already
been used was gathered up, with whatever dirt it might have become
mixed. One rude fellow, with his hand full, sought to entrap his
victims into talking, when he would stuff the nasty mixture into
their mouths.
At the end attar of roses was brought, into which little pieces of
cotton, fixed on slips of bamboo, were dipped, and given to each
person. The heat, dust, stench of the unwashed multitude, noise, and
increasing familiarity of the lower orders, warned us to retire, and
we effected our retreat with precipitancy.
The Rajah and his brother were very fine boys, lively, frank,
unaffected, and well disposed: they have evidently a good guide in
the old Dewan; but it is melancholy to think how surely, should they
grow up in possession of their present rank, they will lapse into
slothful habits, and take their place amongst the imbeciles who now
represent the once powerful Rajahs of Bengal.
We rode back to our tents by a bright moonlight, very dusty and
tired, and heartily glad to breathe the cool fresh air, after the
stifling ordeal we had undergone.
On the following evening the elephants were again in waiting to
conduct us to the Rajah. He and his relations were assembled outside
the gates, mounted upon elephants, amid a vast concourse of people.
The children and Dewan were seated in a sort of cradle; the rest were
some in howdahs, and some astride on elephants' backs, six or eight
together. All the idols were paraded before them, and powdered with
red dust; the people howling, shouting, and sometimes quarrelling.
Our elephants took their places amongst those of the Rajah; and when
the mob had sufficiently pelted one another with balls and dirty red
powder, a torchlight procession was formed, the idols leading the
way, to a very large tank, bounded by a high rampart, within which
was a broad esplanade round the water.
The effect of the whole was very striking, the glittering cars and
barbaric gaud of the idols showing best by torchlight; while the
white robes and turbans of the undulating sea of people, and the
great black elephants picking their way with matchless care and
consideration, contrasted strongly with the quiet moonbeams sleeping
on the still broad waters of the tank.
Thence the procession moved to a field, where the idols were placed
on the ground, and all dismounted: the Dewan then took the children
by the hand, and each worshipped his tutelary deity in a short prayer
dictated by the attendant Brahmin, and threw a handful of red dust in
its face. After another ordeal of powder, singing, dancing, and
suffocation, our share in the Hooli ended; and having been promised
elephants for the following morning, we bade a cordial farewell to
our engaging little hosts and their staid old governor.
On the 10th of March we were awakened at an early hour by a heavy
thunder-storm from the south-west. The sunrise was very fine, through
an arch 10 degrees high of bright blue sky, above which the whole
firmament was mottled with cirrus. It continued cloudy, with light
winds, througbout the day, but clear on the horizon. From this tinge
such storms became frequent, ushering in the equinox; and the less
hazy sky and rising hygrometer predicted an accession of moisture in
the atmosphere.
We left for Rangamally, a village eight miles distant in a northerly
direction, our course lying along the west bank of the Teesta.
The river is here navigated by canoes, thirty to forty feet long,
some being rudely cut out of a solid log of Sal, while others are
built, the planks, of which there are but few, being sewed together,
or clamped with iron, and the seams caulked with the fibres of the
root of Dhak (_Butea frondosa_), and afterwards smeared with the
gluten of _Diospyros embryopteris._ The bed of the river is here
threequarters of a mile across, of which the stream does not occupy
one-third; its banks are sand-cliffs, fourteen feet in height. A few
small fish and water-snakes swarm in the pools.
The whole country improved in fertility as we advanced towards the
mountains: the grass became greener, and more trees, shrubs, herbs,
and birds appeared. In front, the dark boundary-line of the Sal
forest loomed on the horizon, and to the east rose the low hills of
Bhotan, both backed by the outer ranges of the Himalaya.
Flocks of cranes were abundant over-head, flying in wedges, or
breaking up into "open order," preparing for their migration
northwards, which takes place in April, their return occurring in
October; a small quail was also common on the ground. Tamarisk
("Jhow") grew in the sandy bed of the river; its flexible young
branches are used in various parts of India for wattling and
basket-making.
In the evening we walked to the skirts of the Sal forest. The great
trunks of the trees were often scored by tigers' claws, this animal
indulging in the cat-like propensity of rising and stretching itself
against such objects. Two species of _Dillenia_ were common in the
forest, with long grass, _Symplocos, Emblica,_ and _Cassia Fistula,_
now covered with long pods. Several parasitical air-plants grew on
the dry trees, as _Oberonia, Vanda,_ and _Aerides._
At Rangamally, the height of the sandy banks of the Teesta varies
from fifteen to twenty feet. The bed is a mile across, and all sand;*
[Now covered with _Anthistiria_ grass, fifteen feet high, a little
_Sissoo,_ and _Bombax._] the current much divided, and opaque green,
from the glacial origin of most of its head-streams. The west bank
was covered with a small Sal forest, mixed with _Acacia Catechu,_ and
brushwood, growing in a poor vegetable loam, over very dry sand.
The opposite (or Bhotan) bank is much lower, and always flooded
during the rains, which is not the case on the western side, where
the water rises to ten feet below the top of the bank, or from seven
to ten feet above its height in the dry season, and it then fills its
whole bed. This information we had from a police Jemadar, who has
resided many years on this unhealthy spot, and annually suffers from
fever. The Sal forest has been encroached upon from the south, for
many miles, within the memory of man, by clearing in patches, and by
indiscriminate felling.
About ten miles north of Rangamally, we came to an extensive flat,
occupying a recess in the high west bank, the site of the old capital
(Bai-kant-pore) of the Jeelpigoree Rajah. Hemmed in as it is on three
sides by a dense forest, and on all by many miles of malarious Terai,
it appears sufficiently secure from ordinary enemies, during a great
part of the year. The soil is sandy, overlying gravel, and covered
with a thick stratum of fine mud or silt, which is only deposited on
these low flats; on it grew many naturalized plants, as hemp,
tobacco, jack, mango, plantain, and orange.
About eight miles on, we left the river-bed, and struck westerly
through a dense forest, to a swampy clearance occupied by the village
of Rummai, which appeared thoroughly malarious; and we pitched the
tent on a narrow, low ridge, above the level of the plain.
It was now cool and pleasant, partly due, no doubt, to a difference
in the vegetation, and the proximity of swamp and forest, and partly
also to a change in the weather, which was cloudy and threatening;
much rain, too, had fallen here on the preceding day.
Brahmins and priests of all kinds are few in this miserable country:
near the villages, and under the large trees, are, every here and
there, a few immature thatched cottages, four to six feet high, in
which the tutelary deities of the place are kept; they are idols of
the very rudest description, of Vishnu as an ascetic (Bai-kant Nath),
a wooden doll, gilt and painted, standing, with the hands raised as
if in exhortation, and one leg crossed over the other. Again, Kartik,
the god of war, is represented sitting astride on a peacock, with the
right hand elevated and holding a small flat cup.
Some fine muscular Cooches were here brought for Mr. Hodgson's
examination, but we found them unable or unwilling to converse, in
the Cooch tongue, which appears to be fast giving place to Bengalee.
We walked to a stream, which flows at the base of the retiring
sand-cliffs, and nourishes a dense and richly-varied jungle,
producing many plants, as beautiful _Acanthaceae,_ Indian
horse-chesnut, loaded with white racemes of flowers, gay
_Convolvuli,_ laurels, terrestrial and parasitic _Orchideae,
Dillenia,_ casting its enormous flowers as big as two fists, pepper,
figs, and, in strange association with these, a hawthorn, and the
yellow-flowered Indian strawberry, which ascends 7,500 feet on the
mountains, and _Hodgsonia,_ a new _Cucurbitaceous_ genus, clinging in
profusion to the trees, and also found 5000 feet high on the
mountains.
In the evening we rode into the forest (which was dry and very
unproductive), and thence along the river-banks, through _Acacia
Catechu,_ belted by _Sissoo,_ which often fringes the stream, always
occupying the lowest flats. The foliage at this season is brilliantly
green; and as the evening advanced, a yellow convolvulus burst into
flower like magic, adorning the bushes over which it climbed.
It rained on the following morning; after which we left for the exit
of the Teesta, proceeding northwards, sometimes through a dense
forest of Sal timber, sometimes dipping into marshy depressions, or
riding through grassy savannahs, breast-high. The coolness of the
atmosphere was delicious, and the beauty of the jungle seemed to
increase the further we penetrated these primaeval forests.
Eight miles from Rummai we came on a small river from the mountains,
with a Cooch village close by, inhabited during the dry season by
timber-cutters from Jeelpigoree it is situated upon a very rich black
soil, covered with _Saccharum_ and various gigantic grasses, but no
bamboo. These long grasses replace the Sal, of which we did not see
one good tree.
We here mounted the elephants, and proceeded several miles through
the prairie, till we again struck upon the high Sal forest-bank,
continuous with that of Rummai and Rangamally, but much loftier: it
formed one of many terraces which stretch along the foot of the
hills, from Punkabaree to the Teesta, but of which none are said to
occur for eight miles eastwards along the Bhotan Dooars: if true,
this is probably due in part to the alteration of the course of the
Teesta, which is gradually working to the westward, and cutting away
these lofty banks.
The elephant-drivers appeared to have taken us by mistake to the exit
of the Chawa, a small stream which joins the Teesta further to the
eastward. The descent to the bed of this rivulet, round the first
spur of rock we met with, was fully eighty feet, through a very
irregular depression, probably the old bed of the stream; it runs
southwards from the hills, and was covered from top to bottom with
slate-pebbles. We followed the river to its junction with the Teesta,
along a flat, broad gulley, bounded by densely-wooded, steep banks of
clay slate on the north, and the lofty bank on the south: between
these the bed was strewed with great boulders of gneiss and other
rocks, luxuriantly clothed with long grass, and trees of wild
plantain, _Erythrina_ and _Bauhinia,_ the latter gorgeously
in flower.
The Sal bank formed a very fine object: it was quite perpendicular,
and beautifully stratified with various coloured sands and gravel: it
tailed off abruptly at the junction of the rivers, and then trended
away south-west, forming the west bank of the Teesta. The latter
river is at its outlet a broad and rapid, but hardly impetuous
stream, now fifty yards across, gushing from between two low,
forest-clad spurs: it appeared about five feet deep, and was
beautifully fringed on both sides with green _Sissoo._
Some canoes were here waiting for us, formed of hollowed trunks of
trees, thirty feet long: two were lashed together with bamboos, and
the boatmen sat one at the head and one at the stern of each: we lay
along the bottom of the vessels, and in a second we were darting
down the river, at the rate of at least ten or fifteen miles an hour,
the bright waters leaping up on all sides, and bounding in
_jets-d'eau_ between prows and sterns of the coupled vessels.
Sometimes we glided along without perceptible motion, and at others
jolted down bubbling rapids, the steersmen straining every nerve to
keep their bark's head to the current, as she impatiently swerved
from side to side in the eddies. To our jaded and parched frames,
after the hot forenoon's ride on the elephants, the effect was
delicious: the fresh breeze blew on our heated foreheads and down our
open throats and chests; we dipped our hands into the clear, cool
stream, and there was "music in the waters" to our ears.
Fresh verdure on the banks, clear pebbles, soft sand, long English
river-reaches, forest glades, and deep jungles, followed in rapid
succession; and as often as we rounded a bend or shot a rapid, the
scene changed from bright to brighter still; so continuing until
dusk, when we were slowly paddling along the then torpid current
opposite Rangamally.* [The following temperatures of the waters of
the Teesta were taken at intervals during our passage from its exit
to Rangamally, a distance of fifteen linear miles, and thirty miles
following the bends:--
Water. Air.
Exit 2h. 30m. p.m. 62 degrees
3 62.2 degrees 74 degrees
3.30 63.2 degrees
4 64 degrees
4.30 65 degrees
5 65.4 degrees 72.5 degrees opposite Rummai
5.30 66 degrees
6 66 degrees 71.7 degrees opposite Baikant]
The absence of large stones or boulders of rock in the bed of the
Teesta is very remarkable, considering the great volume and rapidity
of the current, and that it shoots directly from the rocky hills to
the gravelly plains. At the _embouchure_ there are boulders as big
as the head, and in the stream, four miles below the exit, the
boatmen pointed out a stone as large as the body as quite a marvel.
They assured us that the average rise at the mouth of the river, in
the rains, was not more than five feet: the mean breadth of the
stream is from seventy to ninety yards. From the point where it
leaves the mountains, to its junction with the Megna, is at this
season thirteen days' voyage, the return occupying from twenty to
twenty-five days, with the boats unladen. The name "Teesta" signifies
"quiet," this river being so in comparison with other Himalayan
torrents further west, the Cosi, Konki, etc., which are devastators
of all that bounds their course.
We passed but two crossing-places: at one the river is divided by an
island, covered with the rude chaits and flags of the Boodhists.
We also saw some Cooch fishermen, who throw the net much as we do:
a fine "Mahaser" (a very large carp) was the best fish they had.
Of cultivation there was very little, and the only habitations were a
few grass-huts of the boatmen or buffalo herdsmen, a rare Cooch
village of Catechu and Sal cutters, or the shelter of
timber-floaters, who seem to pass the night in nests of long
dry grass.
Our servants not having returned with the elephants from Rummai, we
spent the following day at Rangamally shooting and botanizing.
I collected about 100 species in a couple of hours, and observed
perhaps twice that number: the more common I have repeatedly alluded
to, and excepting some small terrestrial _Orchids,_ I added nothing
of particular interest to my collection.* [The following is a list of
the principal genera, most of which are English:--_Polygonum,
Quercus, Sonchus, Gnaphalium, Cratagus, Lobelia, Lactuca,
Hydrocotyle, Saponaria, Campanula, Bidens, Rubus, Oxalis, Artemisia,
Fragaria, Clematis, Dioscorea, Potamogeton, Chara, Veronica,
Viola, Smilax._]
On the 14th of March we proceeded west to Siligoree, along the skirts
of the ragged Sal forest. Birds are certainly the most conspicuous
branch of the natural history of this country, and we saw many
species, interesting either from their habits, beauty, or extensive
distribution. We noticed no less than sixteen kinds of swimming
birds, several of which are migratory and English. The Shoveller,
white-eyed and common wild ducks; Merganser, Brahminee, and Indian
goose (_Anser Indica_); common and Gargany teal; two kinds of gull;
one of Shearwater (_Rhynchops ablacus_); three of tern, and one of
cormorant. Besides these there were three egrets, the large crane,
stork, green heron, and the demoiselle; the English sand-martin,
kingfisher, peregrine-falcon, sparrow-hawk, kestrel, and the European
vulture: the wild peacock, and jungle-fowl. There were at least 100
peculiarly Indian birds in addition, of which the more remarkable
were several kinds of mina, of starling, vulture, kingfisher, magpie,
quail, and lapwing.
The country gradually became quite beautiful, much undulated and
diversified by bright green meadows, sloping lawns, and deeply wooded
nullahs, which lead from the Sal forest and meander through this
varied landscape. More beautiful sites for fine mansions could not
well be, and it is difficult to suppose so lovely a country should be
so malarious as it is before and after the rains, excessive heat
probably diffusing widely the miasma from small stagnant surfaces.
We noticed a wild hog, absolutely the first wild beast of any size I
sawon the plains, except the hispid hare (_Lepus hispidus_) and the
barking deer (_Stylocerus ratna_). The hare we found to be the best
game of this part of India, except the teal. The pheasants of
Dorjiling are poor, the deer all but uneatable, and the florican,
however dressed, I considered a far from excellent bird.
A good many plants grow along the streams, the sandy beds of which
are everywhere covered with the marks of tigers' feet. The only safe
way of botanizing is by pushing through the jungle on elephants; an
uncomfortable method, from the quantity of ants and insects which
drop from the foliage above, and from the risk of disturbing
pendulous bees' and ants' nests.
A peculiar species of willow (_Salix tetrasperma_) is common here;
which is a singular fact, as the genus is characteristic of cold and
arctic latitudes; and no species is found below 5000 feet elevation
on the Sikkim mountain, where it grows on the inner Himalaya only,
some kinds ascending to 16,000 feet.
East of Siligoree the plains are unvaried by tree or shrub, and are
barren wastes of short turf or sterile sand, with the dwarf-palm
(_Phoenix acaulis_), a sure sign of a most hungry soil.
The latter part of the journey I performed on elephants during the
heat of the day, and a more uncomfortable mode of conveyance surely
never was adopted; the camel's pace is more fatiguing, but that of
the elephant is extremely trying after a few miles, and is so
injurious to the human frame that the Mahouts (drivers) never reach
an advanced age, and often succumb young to spine-diseases, brought
on by the incessant motion of the vertebral column. The broiling heat
of the elephant's black back, and the odour of its oily driver, are
disagreeable accompaniments, as are its habits of snorting water from
its trunk over its parched skin, and the consequences of the great
bulk of green food which it consumes.
From Siligoree I made a careful examination of the gravel beds that
occur on the road north to the foot of the hills, and thence over the
tertiary sandstone to Punkabaree. At the Rukti river, which flows
south-west, the road suddenly rises, and crosses the first
considerable hill, about two miles south of any rock _in situ._
This river cuts a cliff from 60 to 100 feet high, composed of
stratified sand and water-worn gravel: further south, the spur
declines into the plains, its course marked by the Sal that thrives
on its gravelly soil. The road then runs north-west over a plain to
an isolated hill about 200 feet high, also formed of sand and gravel.
We ascended to the top of this, and found it covered with blocks of
gneiss, and much angular detritus. Hence the road gradually ascends,
and becomes clayey. Argillaceous rocks, and a little ochreous
sandstone appeared in highly-inclined strata, dipping north, and
covered with great water-worn blocks of gneiss. Above, a flat
terrace, flanked to the eastward by a low wooded hill, and another
rise of sandstone, lead on to the great Baisarbatti terrace.
_Bombax, Erythrina,_ and _Duabanga_ (_Lagaerstraemia grandiflora_),
were in full flower, and with the profusion of _Bauhinia,_ rendered
the tree-jungle gay: the two former are leafless when flowering.
The Duabanga is the pride of these forests. Its trunk, from eight to
fifteen feet in girth, is generally forked from the base, and the
long pendulous branches which clothe the trunk for 100 feet, are
thickly leafy, and terminated by racemes of immense white flowers,
which, especially when in bud, smell most disagreeably of
assafoetida. The magnificent Apocyneous climber, _Beaumontia,_ was in
full bloom, ascending the loftiest trees, and clothing their trunks
with its splendid foliage and festoons of enormous funnel-shaped
white flowers.
The report of a bed of iron-stone eight or ten miles west of
Punkabaree determined our visiting the spot; and the locality being
in a dense jungle, the elephants were sent on ahead.
We descended to the terraces flanking the Balasun river, and struck
west along jungle-paths to a loosely-timbered flat. A sudden descent
of 150 feet landed us on a second terrace. Further on, a third dip of
about twenty feet (in some places obliterated) flanks the bed of the
Balasun; the river itself being split into many channels at this
season. The west bank, which is forty feet high, is of stratified
sand and gravel, with vast slightly-worn blocks of gneiss: from the
top of this we proceeded south-west for three miles to some Mechi
villages, the inhabitants of which flocked to meet us, bringing milk
and refreshments.
The Lohar-ghur, or "iron hill," lies in a dense dry forest.
Its plain-ward flanks are very steep, and covered with scattered
weather-worn masses of ochreous and black iron-stone, many of which
are several yards long: it fractures with faint metallic lustre, and
is very earthy in parts: it does not affect the compass. There are no
pebbles of iron-stone, nor water-worn rocks of any kind found
with it.
The sandstones, close by, cropped out in thick beds (dip north 70
degrees): they are very soft, and beds of laminated clay, and of a
slaty rock, are intercalated with them; also an excessively tough
conglomerate, formed of an indurated blue or grey paste, with nodules
of harder clay. There are no traces of metal in the rock, and the
lumps of ore are wholly superficial.
Below Punkabaree the Baisarbatti stream cuts through banks of gravel
overlying the sandstone (dip north 65 degrees). The sandstone is
gritty and micaceous, intercalated with beds of indurated shale and
clay; in which I found the shaft (apparently) of a bone; there were
also beds of the same clay conglomerate which I had seen at
Lohar-ghur, and thin seams of brown lignite; with a rhomboidal
cleavage. In the bed of the stream were carbonaceous shales, with
obscure impressions of fern leaves, of _Trizygia,_ and _Vertebraria_:
both fossils characteristic of the Burdwan coal-fields (see Chapter
I), but too imperfect to justify any conclusion as to the relation
between these formations.* [These traces of fossils are not
sufficient to identify the formation with that of the sewalik hills
of North-west India; but its contents, together with its strike, dip,
and position relatively to the mountains, and its mineralogical
character, incline me to suppose it may be similar. Its appearance in
such small quantities in Sikkim (where it rises but a few hundred
feet above the level of the sea, whereas in Kumaon it reaches 4000
feet), may be attributed to the greater amount of wearing which it
must have undergone; the plains from which it rises being 1000 feet
lower than those of Kumaon, and the sea having consequently retired
later, exposing the Sikkim sandstone to the effects of denudation for
a much longer period. Hitherto no traces of this rock, or of any
belonging to a similar geological epoch, have been found in the
valleys of Sikkim; but when the narrowness of these is considered, it
will not appear strange that such may have been removed from their
surfaces: first, by the action of a tidal ocean; and afterwards, by
that of tropical rains.]
Ascending the stream, these shales are seen _in situ,_ overlain by
the metamorphic clay-slate of the mountains, and dipping inwards
(northwards) like them. This is at the foot of the Punkabaree spur,
and close to the bungalow, where a stream and land-slip expose good
sections. The carbonaceous beds dip north 60 degrees and 70 degrees,
and run east and west; much quartz rock is intercalated with them,
and soft white and pink micaceous sandstones. The coal-seams are few
in number, six to twelve inches thick, very confused and distorted,
and full of elliptic nodules, or spheroids of quartzy slate, covered
with concentric scaly layers of coal: they overlie the sandstones
mentioned above. These scanty notices of superposition being
collected in a country clothed with the densest tropical forest,
where a geologist pursues his fatiguing investigations under
disadvantages that can hardly be realized in England, will I fear
long remain unconfirmed. I may mention, however, that the appearance
of inversion of the strata at the foot of great mountain-masses has
been observed in the Alleghany chain, and I believe in the Alps.*
[Dr. M'Lelland informs me that in the Curruckpore hills, south of the
Ganges, the clay-slates are overlain by beds of mica-slate, gneiss,
and granite, which pass into one another.]
Illustration--A MECH, NATIVE OF THE SIKKIM TERAI.
A poor Mech was fishing in the stream, with a basket curiously formed
of a cylinder of bamboo, cleft all round in innumerable strips, held
together by the joints above and below; these strips being stretched
out as a balloon in the middle, and kept apart by a hoop: a small
hole is cut in the cage, and a mouse-trap entrance formed: the cage
is placed in the current with the open end upwards, where the fish
get in, and though little bigger than minnows, cannot find their
way out.
On the 20th we had a change in the weather: a violent storm from the
south-west occurred at noon, with hail of a strange form, the stones
being sections of hollow spheres, half an inch across and upwards,
formed of cones with truncated apices and convex bases; these cones
were aggregated together with their bases outwards. The large masses
were followed by a shower of the separate conical pieces, and that by
heavy rain. On the mountains this storm was most severe: the stones
lay at Dorjiling for seven days, congealed into masses of ice several
feet long and a foot thick in sheltered places: at Purneah, fifty
miles south, stones one and two inches across fell, probably as
whole spheres.
Ascending to Khersiong, I found the vegetation very backward by the
road-sides. The rain had cleared the atmosphere, and the view over
the plains was brilliant. On the top of the Khersiong spur a
tremendous gale set in with a cold west wind: the storm cleared off
at night, which at 10 p.m. was beautiful, with forked and sheet
lightning over the plains far below us. The equinoctial gales had now
fairly set in, with violent south-east gales, heavy thunder,
lightning, and rain.
Whilst at Khersiong I took advantage of the very fair section
afforded by the road from Punkabaree, to examine the structure of the
spur, which seems to be composed of very highly inclined contorted
beds (dip north) of metamorphic rocks, gneiss, mica-slate,
clay-slate, and quartz; the foliation of which beds is parallel to
the dip of the strata. Over all reposes a bed of clay, capped with a
layer of vegetable mould, nowhere so thick and rich as in the more
humid regions of 7000 feet elevation. The rocks appeared in the
following succession in descending. Along the top are found great
blocks of very compact gneiss buried in clay. Half a mile lower the
same rock appears, dipping north-north-east 50 degrees. Below this,
beds of saccharine quartz, with seams of mica, dip north-north-west
20 degrees. Some of these quartz beds are folded on themselves, and
look like flattened trunks of trees, being composed of concentric
layers, each from two to four inches thick: we exposed twenty-seven
feet of one fold running along the side of the road, which was cut
parallel to the strike. Each layer of quartz was separated from its
fellows, by one of mica scales; and was broken up into cubical
fragments, whose surfaces are no doubt cleavage and jointing places.
I had previously seen, but not understood, such flexures produced by
metamorphic action on masses of quartz when in a pasty state, in the
Falkland Islands, where they have been perfectly well described by
Mr. Darwin;* [Journal of Geological Society for 1846, p. 267, and
"Voyage of the Beagle".] in whose views of the formation of these
rocks I entirely concur.
The flexures of the gneiss are incomparably more irregular and
confused than those of the quartz, and often contain flattened
spheres of highly crystalline felspar, that cleave perpendicularly to
the shorter axis. These spheres are disposed in layers parallel to
the foliation of the gneiss: and are the result of a metamorphic
action of great intensity, effecting a complete rearrangement and
crystallization of the quartz and mica in parallel planes, whilst the
felspar is aggregated in spheres; just as in the rearrangement of the
mineral constituents of mica-schists, the alumina is crystallized in
the garnets, and in the clay-slates the iron into pyrites.
The quartz below this dips north-north-west 45 degrees to 50 degrees,
and alternates with a very hard slaty schist, dipping north-west 45
degrees, and still lower is a blue-grey clay-slate, dipping
north-north-west 30 degrees. These rest on beds of slate, folded like
the quartz mentioned above, but with cleavage-planes, forming lines
radiating from the axis of each flexure, and running through all the
concentric folds. Below this are the plumbago and clay slates of
Punkabaree, which alternate with beds of mica-schist with garnets,
and appear to repose immediately upon the carboniferous strata and
sandstone; but there is much disturbance at the junction.
On re-ascending from Punkabaree, the rocks gradually appear more and
more dislocated, the clay-slate less so than the quartz and
mica-schist, and that again far less than the gneiss, which is so
shattered and bent, that it is impossible to say what is _in situ,_
and what not. Vast blocks lie superficially on the ridges; and the
tops of all the outer mountains, as of Khersiong spur, of Tonglo,
Sinchul, and Dorjiling, appear a pile of such masses. Injected veins
of quartz are rare in the lower beds of schist and clay-slate, whilst
the gneiss is often full of them; and on the inner and loftier
ranges, these quartz veins are replaced by granite with tourmaline.
Lime is only known as a stalactitic deposit from various streams, at
elevations from 1000 to 7000 feet; one such stream occurs above
Punkabaree, which I have not seen; another within the Sinchul range,
on the great Rungeet river, above the exit of the Rummai; a third
wholly in the great central Himalayan range, flowing into the Lachen
river. The total absence of any calcareous rock in Sikkim, and the
appearance of the deposit in isolated streams at such distant
localities, probably indicates a very remote origin of the
lime-charged waters.
From Khersiong to Dorjiling, gneiss is the only rock, and is often
decomposed into clay-beds, 20 feet deep, in which the narrow, often
zigzag folia of quartz remain quite entire and undisturbed, whilst
every trace of the foliation of the softer mineral is lost.
At Pacheem, Dorjiling weather, with fog and drizzle, commenced, and
continued for two days: we, reached Dorjiling on the 24th of March,
and found that the hail which had fallen on the 20th was still lying
in great masses of crumbling ice in sheltered spots. The fall had
done great damage to the gardens, and Dr. Campbell's tea-plants were
cut to pieces.
Illustration--POCKET-COMB USED BY THE MECH TRIBES.
END OF VOLUME I OF HIMALAYAN JOURNALS.