DEPARTURE FOR THE HILLS.—LANDOWR.
First View of the Snowy Ranges—Saharanpūr—Mohunchaukī—An
Adventure—The Keeree Pass—Rajpūr—Motī—The Gūnth—Hill-men—A
Jampan—Ascent to Landowr—Hill Flowers—Purity of the Air—View of
the Himalaya—The Khuds—Mussoorī—Rhododendron Trees—Mr. Webb’s
Hotel—Curious Soap—The Landowr Bazār—Schools in the Hills—Cloud
End—The White Rhododendron—Storm in the Hills—Hill Birds—Fever
in the Hills—Newlands—Death of Major Blundell.
1838, _March 16th._—We drove out twenty miles, to the place where the
palanquins awaited us, travelled dāk all night, found a buggy ready for
us at the last stage, and reached our friend’s house at Saharanpūr the
next morning by 8 A.M. On the road, about five o’clock in the morning,
I was much delighted with the first view of the snowy ranges; I never
anticipated seeing mountains covered with snow again, and, as I lay in my
palanquin, watching the scene for miles, breathing the cool air from the
hills, and viewing the mountains beyond them, I felt quite a different
being, charmed and delighted. Mr. and Miss B⸺ received us very kindly;
and I had the pleasure of meeting an old friend, Captain Sturt, of the
engineers;—the man whose noble conduct distinguished him so highly, and
who was shot during the fatal retreat of the army in Afghānistan. In
the evening we visited the Botanical Garden; it is an excellent one,
and in high order; some tigers were there, fiercely growling over their
food, several bears, and a porcupine. The garden is well watered by the
canal, which passes through it. The Governor-General broke up his camp
at Saharanpūr, and quitted, with a small retinue, for Mussoorī, the day
before we arrived.
_14th._—We took leave of our friends, and resumed our dāk journey at 4
P.M.; during the night we passed Lord Auckland’s camp, which was pitched
in a very picturesque spot at Mohunchaukī: the tents, the elephants, and
the camels formed beautiful groups among the trees, and I stopped the
palanquin a short time to admire them. We passed through a forest,—or sāl
jangal, as they call it,—in which wild elephants are sometimes found,
and met with a little adventure: a tiger was lying by the road-side;
the bearers put down the palanquin, waved their torches, and howled and
screamed with all their might: the light and noise scared the animal,—he
moved off. I got out of the palanquin to look at a tiger _au naturel_,
saw some creature moving away, but could not distinguish what animal it
was; the bearers were not six feet from him when they first saw him;
it was a fine, clear, moonlight night. The jangal looked well, and its
interest was heightened by the idea you might now and then see a wild
beast. A number of fires were burning on the sides of the hills, and
running up in different directions; these fires, they tell me, are
lighted by the zamīndars, to burn up the old dry grass; when that is
done, the new grass springs up, and there is plenty of food for the
cattle; the fires were remarkable in the darkness of the night. For some
miles up the pass of Keeree, our way was over the dry bed of a river;
on both sides rose high cliffs, covered with trees; the moonlight was
strong, and the pass one of great interest; here and there you heard the
noise of water, the pleasing sound of a mountain stream turning small
mills for grinding corn, called _Panchakkī_. In the morning we arrived at
the Company’s bungalow at Rajpūr.
Rajpūr is situated at the foot of the Hills: I was delighted with the
place; the view from the bungalow put me in mind of Switzerland. We went
to Mrs. Theodore’s hotel, to see her collection of stuffed birds and
beasts; a complete set costs 1600 rupees (£160). At the bottom of the
valley between the Hills I heard the most delightful sound of rushing
waters: taking a servant with me, I went down the steep footpath,
irresistibly attracted by the sound, and found the mountain rill
collected into a mill-dam, from which, rushing down, it turned several
mills; and one of the streams was turned off into the valley, forming the
little cascade, the sound of which had attracted me. How bright, clear,
cold, and delicious was the water! Being too unwell to bear the fatigue
of climbing the hill, I sent for a hill-pony, called a _gūnth_; he was
brought down; the little fellow never had a woman on his back before, but
he carried me bravely up the sheep-path, for road there was none. Motī,
the name of the handsome gūnth, is an iron-grey hill-pony,—more like a
dwarf-horse than a pony; he has an exceedingly thick, shaggy mane, and a
very thick, long tail;—the most sure-footed sagacious animal; he never
gets tired, and will go all day up and down hill; seldom fights, and is
never alarmed when passing the most dangerous places. Give your gūnth his
head, and he will carry you safely. Horses are dangerous,—even the most
quiet become alarmed in the hills. Captain S⸺ bought this gūnth at the
Hurdwar fair; he came from Almorah, cost 160 rupees (£16); and 300 rupees
have been refused for him.
The following history was related to me concerning the gūnth:—Colonel
P⸺, to whom the animal was lent, took him to the Snowy Ranges; “In some
pass, by some accident, the gūnth fell down a precipice, and was caught
upon an oak tree. There he swung; one struggle would have sent him to the
bottom, and to certain death; he never moved. Colonel P⸺, who was walking
at the time, got some people, who descended to the place where the gūnth
hung, dug out a standing-place in the side of the hill, just big enough
to hold the pony, and contrived to get him off his tree into the spot:
the gūnth was so much alarmed, that they left him to recover from his
fright on this spot the whole night; and the next morning got him up the
precipice in safety to the road.” Any horse would have struggled and have
been killed; these gūnths appear to understand that they must be quiet,
and their masters will help them. He is a queer-tempered little fellow;
he kicked my sā’īs over one day, and always kicks at me if I attempt to
pat him; but he carries me capitally: nevertheless, he is “vicious as he
is little[29].”
The whole day I roamed about Rajpūr; the _Paharīs_ (the Hill-men), who
had come down to bring up our luggage, were animals to stare at: like
the pictures I have seen of Tartars,—little fellows, with such flat ugly
faces, dressed in black woollen coarse trowsers, a blanket of the same
over their shoulders; a black, greasy, round leather cap on their heads,
sometimes decorated all round their faces with bunches of Hill-flowers,
freshly gathered; a rope round their waists. Their limbs are stout, and
the sinews in the legs strongly developed, from constantly climbing the
Hills. They are very honest and very idle; moreover, most exceedingly
dirty. Such were the little Hill fellows we met at Rajpūr.
_16th._—This morning the gūnth came to the door for my companion to
ride up the Hills: I was to be carried up in a jampān. A jampān is an
arm-chair, with a top to it, to shelter you from the sun or rain; four
long poles are affixed to it. Eight of those funny little black Hill
fellows were harnessed between the poles, after their fashion, and they
carried me up the hill. My two women went up in dolīs, a sort of tray
for women, in which one person can sit native fashion; these trays are
hung upon long poles, and carried by Hill-men. The ascent from Rajpūr is
seven miles, climbing almost every yard of the way. The different views
delighted me: on the side of the Hills facing Rajpūr the trees were
stunted, and there was but little vegetation; on the other side, the
northern, we came upon fine oak and rhododendron trees—such beautiful
rhododendrons! they are forest trees, not shrubs, as you have them in
England. The people gathered the wild flowers, and filled my lap with
them. The jangal pear, in full blossom, the raspberry bushes, and the
nettles delighted me; I could not help sending a man from the plains,
who had never seen a nettle, to gather one; he took hold of it, and,
relinquishing his hold instantly in excessive surprise, exclaimed,—“It
has stung me; it is a scorpion plant.” Violets were under every rock;
and the wild, pleasing notes of the Hill birds were to be heard in every
direction. The delicious air, so pure, so bracing, so unlike any air I
had breathed for fifteen years,—with what delight I inhaled it! It seemed
to promise health and strength and spirits: I fancied the lurking fever
crept out of my body as I breathed the mountain air; I was so happy, so
glad I was alive; I felt a buoyancy of spirit, like that enjoyed by a
child.
The only bungalow we could procure was one on the top of the hill of
Landowr; it was an uncomfortable one, but a roof was not to be despised
in such cold weather: we had a fire lighted instantly, and kept it
burning all day. Where now was the vile fever that had bowed me down in
the plains? It had vanished with the change of climate, as if by magic.
The Hill air made me feel so well and strong, we set off on our ponies
in the evening to visit Mr. E⸺’s house; it is beautiful, built with
great taste, and highly finished; its situation is fine, on a hill, at
the further end of Landowr. Thence we went to Colonel P⸺’s bungalow,
a good house, well situated, but very far from supplies; he offered
it to me for the season for 1200 rupees—_i.e._ £120 for seven months.
From the barracks, at the top of Landowr, the view of the Snowy Ranges
is magnificent. In any other country these _hills_ would be called
mountains; but, being near the foot of the Himalaya, that in the distance
tower above them, they have obtained the title of “The Hills.” Landowr,
Bhadráj, Ben Oge, are covered with oak and rhododendron trees; the
valleys between them, by the Hill people called _khuds_, are extremely
deep: at the bottom of these khuds water is found in little rills, but it
is very scarce. About two thousand feet below Landowr water is abundant,
and there are some waterfalls. The Hills are very grand, but have not
the picturesque beauty of the valley of Chamouni:—and yet it is unfair
to make the comparison at Landowr; Chamouni is at the foot of Mont
Blanc: to compare the two, one ought to proceed to the foot of the Snowy
Ranges, where their solitary grandeur would overpower the remembrance of
Mont Blanc. I long to go there: the difficulties and privations would
be great; I could not go alone, and the fatigue would be excessive;
nevertheless, I long to make a pilgrimage to Gangotrī, the source of the
Ganges.
_17th._—Started on our ponies at 7 A.M. to ride to Mussoorī, which is
only a short distance from Landowr. The scenery at that place is of a
tamer cast; the southern side of the hill, on which most of the houses
are situated, puts me in mind of the back of the Isle of Wight, but on a
larger scale; the projecting rocks and trees, with gentlemen’s houses in
every nook, all built on the side of the hill, give the resemblance. The
northern side is called the Camel’s Back, from a fancied resemblance of
the hill to the shape of that animal; there the scenery differs entirely.
The southern side, on which Mussoorī is situated, has few trees, and
looks down on the valley of the Dhoon; the northern side is covered with
fine trees, the hills abrupt; a wildness and grandeur, unknown on the
southern side, is all around you; the valleys fearfully deep, the pathway
narrow, and in some parts so bad, only one foot in breadth is left for
a pony. At first I felt a cold shudder pass over me, as I rode by such
places; in the course of a week I was perfectly accustomed to the sort of
thing, and quite fearless. A pathway three feet in width at its utmost
breadth, is a handsome road in the Hills; a perpendicular rock on one
side, and a precipice, perhaps three or four hundred feet deep, may be
on the other. It is all very well when the road is pretty open; but when
you have to turn the sharp corner of a rock, if looking over a precipice
makes you giddy, shut your eyes, and give your gūnth the rein, and you
will be sure to find yourself safe on the other side. The little rascals
never become giddy; and after a short time you will turn such corners
at a canter, as a thing of course. I was delighted with the wildness of
the scenery,—it equalled my expectations. In front of Mussoorī you are
in high public, the road called the Mall is from eight to ten feet wide,
covered with children, nurses, dogs, and sickly ladies and gentlemen,
walking about gaily dressed. I always avoid the Mall; I go out for
enjoyment and health, and do not want to talk to people. The children!
it is charming to see their rosy faces; they look as well and as strong
as any children in England; the climate of the Hills is certainly far
superior to that of England. Not liking my bungalow, I changed it for
another half way up the hill of Landowr.
_17th._—Lord Auckland and the Misses Eden arrived to-day, and took up
their residence at Colonel Young’s, a little below, on the hill of
Landowr.
From my bungalow the view is beautiful, and we have as much air as man
can desire. The first thing was to get pardas, stuffed with cotton, for
every window and door; the next, to hire a set of Hill-men, to cut and
bring wood from the khuds, and water and grass for the ponies. A long
ride round Waverly was the evening’s amusement; then came a dinner of
excellent Hill-mutton, by the side of a blazing fire of the _beautiful
rhododendron wood_! The well-closed doors kept out the cold, and my
kind relative congratulated me on having lost my fever, and being so
comfortable in the Hills.
Visited Mr. Webb’s hotel for families; it is an excellent one, and very
commodious. There is a ball-room, and five billiard tables with slate
beds; these slate beds have only just arrived in India, and have very
lately been introduced in England.
_19th._—During the time I was waiting for my relative, who had
accompanied Lord Auckland, to show him the hospital and the different
buildings at Landowr, which were under his charge, my attention was
arrested by a great number of Hill-men, carrying large bundles of moss
down to the plains; they grind up the moss with barley-meal, and use it
as soap; it is in great repute at weddings.
Rode my little black horse, but found him not so pleasant in the Hills as
a gūnth, and more fatiguing. At the foot of Landowr there is an excellent
bazār: every thing is to be had there,—_Pâtée foie gras_, _bécasses
truffés_, _shola_ hats covered with the skin of the pelican, champagne,
bareilly couches, shoes, Chinese books, pickles, long poles for climbing
the mountains, and various incongruous articles. Many years ago, a
curious little rosary had been brought me from the _santa casa_ of our
Lady of Loretto;—a fac-simile of the little curiosity was lying for sale
in the Landowr bazār, amongst a lot of Hindūstanī shoes!
The Governor-General and his party quitted Landowr, and returned to
Rajpūr, on their march to Simla, up the valley of the Deyra Doon.
In the evening I rode out to see Ben Oge and Bhadráj: at the foot of Ben
Oge is a boys’ school; a number of little fellows were out at play. There
is also a girls’ school at Mussoorī. Here English children can receive
some education in a fine climate.
_20th._—Rainy; thermometer in the verandah at noon, 56°; at 3 o’clock
P.M. 54°.
_21st._—The Hills covered and hidden by deep clouds; thunder and
lightning, with some rain. Thermometer, 8 A.M. 46°; evening fine, heavy
rain at night.
_23rd._—Captain E. S⸺ has an estate in the Hills, called Cloud End,—a
beautiful mountain, of about sixty acres, covered with oak trees: on this
spot he had long wished to build a house, and had prepared the plan, but
his duties as an engineer prevented his being long enough at a time in
the Hills to accomplish the object. I offered to superintend the work
during his absence, if he would mark out the foundation: a morning’s ride
brought us to his estate, situated between a hill, called “the Park,” and
Ben Oge, with Bhadráj to the west; the situation is beautiful,—the hills
magnificent and well-wooded. Having fixed on the spot for the house,—the
drawing-room windows to face a noble view of the Snowy Ranges,—the next
thing was to mark a pathway to be cut into the Khud, a descent of two
miles, for the mules to bring up water.
The plan of the house was then marked out, and a site was selected for
my hill-tent, commanding a view of the Himalaya: this little tent was
made to order at Fathīgarh,—it is twelve feet square, the walls four feet
high, and has two doors. A stone wall is to be built around it, a chimney
at one end, and a glass door at the other; a thatch will be placed over
it, and this will be my habitation when I go to Cloud End, or when I make
excursions into the Hills; my kitchen will be an old oak tree. The Hills
are so steep, a single pole tent of the usual size can be pitched in very
few places. Under an old oak, on a rock covered with wild flowers, I
sat and enjoyed the scene: the valley of the Doon lay stretched before
me, and the Hills around me. There is a rhododendron tree on this estate
that bears _white_ flowers,—it is a great rarity, and highly prized; all
the flowers of the other rhododendron trees are of a magnificent crimson.
The Hill-men are fond of sucking the juice from the petals, which, it is
said, possesses an intoxicating quality.
Stormy-looking clouds were rolling up from the valley towards the Hills:
returning home, we were caught in as fine a storm as I almost ever
beheld; it was a glorious sight,—the forked lightning was superb, the
thunder resounded from hill to hill, the hail and rain fell heavily:
for about two hours the storm raged. We took shelter in a Europe shop;
towards night it decreased; wrapped in black blankets, which we procured
from the bazār, we got home in safety; the rain could not penetrate
the black blankets, the wool of which is so oily. The storm raged with
violence during the night, but I heard it not: in the morning the
Hill-tops were covered with snow: at 7 A.M. the thermometer 38° in the
verandah; in the room at noon with a fire it stood at 57°.
_25th._—My relative left me, taking back all useless servants, and the
camels from Rajpūr.
Visited the Hospital, of which Mr. Morrow is the steward, to see his
collection of birds. The specimens are very well preserved with arsenical
soap, and they sell well on that account: he had two pair of the Moonāl
pheasants alive, their plumage bright and beautiful. The collection was
large; I selected only a few specimens, as follows:—
The Golden Eagle of the Himalaya: a bird I have often seen flying around
Landowr; and a remarkably fine one. Also the Black Eagle of these
mountains.
The Loonjee, or Red Pheasant, from the deep forests of the Himalaya: a
bird rare and valuable; the skin on the neck is peculiar; in confinement
they are timid and quiet, but the light annoys them, from being
accustomed to the shade of the forests.
The Moonāl, Duffeah, or Blue Pheasant of the Himalaya: these birds are
brought from the interior; they are seldom found so far down as Landowr;
nevertheless, one was shot at Cloud End, Bhadráj; they are timid at first
in confinement,—after a few days, they will eat wheat in your presence,
and show no signs of alarm. The eggs they lay when in cages might be
brought to England; why should they not thrive in our climate, since they
are inhabitants of a cold region? The hen-bird, although less splendid in
plumage than the cock, is very game.
The Koklás Pheasant, common in the Hills, is also a very game-looking
bird.
The Callinge Pheasant, with its peculiar top-knot, is, as well as those
before mentioned, excellent food. Other pheasants are found in the
Himalaya, of which I was unable to procure specimens.
Black Partridges: the most beautiful in the world are found in most parts
of India; they are a great delicacy.
The Chakor, or Red-legged Partridge: very similar to the French
Partridge; excellent food: they may be rendered so tame, they will run
about the house and garden. Chakor, the Bartavelli, or Greek Partridge
(Perdix chukar, Gould.; Perdix rufa, Lath): said to be enamoured of the
moon, and to eat fire at the full of the moon. This bird is also called
ātash-khwār (fire-eater), a variety of Tetrao rufus, Lin.; called, in
Hindī, Chakor. It is also denominated “Moon Bird,” and “Minion of the
Moon.” The common grey partridge is coarse and inferior.
Bush Quail and Rock Quail: beautiful and delicious. When buying a number
of quail, which are caught in nets, you will rarely find a cock bird, if
caught near Lucnow, or any native court; they are taken out, and sold as
fighting birds. Quail are numerous all over India, and generally sold
twenty-five per rupee.
A Jangal Cock and Hen: the wild cock and hen of the woods, common over
all India; the stock to which all common fowls owe their origin. There
are various kinds of fowls in India; the ghāgas are large, fine, and very
long legged, like game birds; the chatgaiyān are fine also; the karaknāth
are considered very delicate by the natives, but the purple colour of
their bones has a disagreeable appearance.
Green Pigeons: beautiful birds. Blue Pigeons: which inhabit the wells; it
is said the fare of an aide-de-camp is “hard work and _blue pigeons_!”
The Barbet, the Blackbird, the Blue-winged Jay, the Long-tailed Blue Jay,
the Woodpecker, Humming Birds, the Shah Humming Bird, the Mocking Bird,
and the Cuckoo, whose note is delightful in the Hills, recalling thoughts
of early youth and home.
The Chand Chuck, the King Crow: a most courageous little fellow, who
fights and bullies all the crows in admirable style: hence his name, King
Crow.
Flycatchers, Dhobī Birds, Magpies, and the Rana Chiriyā: the colour of
the cock is a brilliant scarlet; that of the ranee, the hen-bird, is a
bright yellow. They appear during the hot winds.
The Mango Bird: so called as they are seen during the mango season.
The Rocket Bird: with the most elegant long white feathers in its tail.
The birds brought from the interior by the Paharīs must have the moss
taken out with which they are stuffed, and be prepared with arsenical
soap; otherwise, the feathers will fall off.
_28th._—Some Hill-men brought me two pair of the Moonāl pheasants alive;
I bought them. They eat wheat, and live very quietly in their cages.
_31st._—Spent the day at Cloud End, overlooking the workmen. The
mountain on which they are building the house will supply almost all
the materials: the stones, which are cut out of it for the walls of the
house, are at first so soft, they appear to be rotten; but exposure to
the air will harden them in a fortnight. The beams are from the old oak
trees; the lime is burned from the stones; but the slates are to be
brought from a neighbouring mountain; and the frames for the doors and
windows will be procured, ready-made, from Rajpūr.
The day was very hot, but the breeze delightful: returning home, I was
seized with illness, and my pulse being one hundred and twenty, called
in medical aid. It is not agreeable to be suffering from illness, on the
top of a mountain, far away from all one’s friends,—depressed, and out
of spirits, with nothing to amuse one but the leeches, hanging, like
love-locks, from one’s temples.
A recovery from illness is a pleasant state, where you have around you
beautiful scenery and pure air. The Hills have all that secret treasury
of spots, so secluded, that you seem to be their first discoverer; lonely
glens and waterfalls, on which the sun’s rays scarcely rest one hour in
the twenty-four; cold hidden basins of living water; and all so shut out
from intrusion of the human race, that, in spirit, you become blended
with the scene.
_April 16th._—Spent the day at Mr. E⸺’s: in the evening, as we were going
down the hill, which is exceedingly steep, I was so nervous, from recent
fever, that I could not ride down the descent; therefore the gūnth was
led, and I walked. The pathway, or rather sheep-track, not one foot in
breadth, is covered with loose stones, and on the edge of a precipice.
Miss B⸺ rode down perfectly unconcerned. From the bottom of the Khud I
rode up the next hill, to see a house, called Newlands; which has been
struck and burned three times by lightning. The hill is said to contain
a quantity of iron, which attracts the electric fluid. A lady and her
ayha were killed there by the lightning. On my return I rode up the hill
I had not had the courage to ride down; even that was enough to make me
nervous, after having suffered from recent fever so many days. A short
time ago, as Major Blundell was going to that very house, Newlands, by
some accident, his gūnth fell over the precipice, and they were both
dashed to pieces. At one place I dismounted, and climbed the side of the
bank, whilst the servants held the gūnths during the time three mules had
to pass them. The passing was effected with great difficulty, and one of
the mules was nearly over the precipice, so narrow was the pathway.