PICTURESQUE SCENES IN THE HILLS.
Jerrīpānī—The Cicalas—View from the Pilgrim’s Banglā—A
Fall over a Precipice—The Glow-worm—Wild-beast Track—The
Scorpion—Mules—Karral Sheep—Wet Days—Noisy Boys—Conical
Hills—The Khuds—Earthquake at Cloud End—The Waterfall—Fall of a
Lady and Horse over a Precipice—Kalunga—General Gillespie—The
Kookree—The Ghoorkas—The Korah—The Sling—Ben Oge—Danger of
Exposure to the Mid-day Sun—An Earthquake—A Spaniel seized
by a Leopard—A Party at Cloud End—A Buffer encounters a
Bear—Hills on Fire—Botanical Gardens—Commencement of the
Rains—Expedition to the Summit of Bhadráj—Magnificence of the
Clouds—Storms in High Places—Danger of Narrow Roads during the
Rains—Introduction of Slated Roofs in the Hills.
1838, _April 17th._—Started on my gūnth, the day being cloudy and cold,
to make a call some miles off down the hill, at Jerrīpānī. The elevation
of Jerrīpānī is much less than that of Landowr, and the difference
in the vegetation remarkable: here, the young leaves of the oaks are
just budding,—there, they are in full leaf; here, the raspberry is in
flower,—there, in fruit.
“The clematis, the favoured flower,
That boasts the name of Virgin’s Bower,”
was at Jerrīpānī in beautiful profusion, sometimes hanging its white
clusters over the yellow flowers of the barbery. The woodbine delighted
me with its fragrance, and the remembrance of days of old; and the
rhododendron trees were in full grandeur. Near one clump of old oaks,
covered with moss and ivy, I stopped to listen to the shrill cries of the
cicala, a sort of transparently-winged beetle: the sounds are like what
we might fancy the notes would be of birds gone crazy.
“The shrill cicalas, people of the pine,—
Making their summer lives one ceaseless song,
Were the sole echoes, save my steed’s and mine.”
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE PILGRIM’S BANGLĀ.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس]
The road was remarkably picturesque, the wind high and cold—a delightful
breeze, the sky cloudy, and the scenery beautiful: I enjoyed a charming
ride, returned home laden with wild flowers, and found amusement for
some hours, comparing them with Loudon’s Encyclopedia. A pony, that
was grazing on the side of Landowr close to my house, fell down the
precipice, and was instantly killed: my ayha came to tell me that the
privates of the 16th Lancers and of the Buffs ate horseflesh, for she had
seen one of them bring up a quantity of the pony’s flesh in a towel;—I
ventured to observe, the man might have dogs to feed.
VIEW FROM THE PILGRIM’S BANGLĀ.
_19th._—The view from the verandah of my banglā or house is very
beautiful: directly beneath it is a precipice; opposite is that part of
the hill of Landowr on which stands the sanatorium for the military,
at present occupied by the invalids of the 16th Lancers and of the
Buffs. The hill is covered with grass, and the wild potato grows there
in profusion; beyond is a high steep rock, which can only be ascended
by a very precipitous path on one side of it; it is crowned by a house
called Lall Tība, and is covered with oak and rhododendron trees. Below,
surrounded with trees, stands the house of Mr. Connolly; and beyond that,
in the distance, are the snow-covered mountains of the _lower_ range of
the Himalaya. The road—if the narrow pathway, three feet in breadth, may
deserve so dignified an appellation—is to the right, on the edge of a
precipice, and on the other side is the perpendicular rock out of which
it has been cut. This morning I heard an outcry, and ran to see what had
happened; just below, and directly in front of my house, an accident had
occurred: an officer of the Buffs had sent a valuable horse down the
hill, in charge of his groom; they met some mules laden with water-bags,
where the path was narrow, the bank perpendicular on the one side, and
the precipice on the other; the groom led the horse on the side of the
precipice, he kicked at the mules, his feet descended over the edge of
the road, and down he went—a dreadful fall, a horrible crash; the animal
was dead ere he reached a spot where a tree stopped his further descent:
the precipice is almost perpendicular.
_22nd._—Found a glow-worm of _immense_ size on the side of the hill: a
winged glow-worm flew in, and alighted on the table; it is small, not a
quarter the size of the other.
_23rd._—During the night, some animal came into the verandah, killed one
of the Moonāl hen pheasants, and wounded the cock bird so severely that
he will die. There is a wild-beast track on the side of the hill opposite
my house, along which I have several times seen some animal skulking in
the dusk of the evening.
_25th._—Accompanied some friends to breakfast in my cottage-tent at Cloud
End. We laid out a garden, and sowed flower seeds around the spot where
my little tent is pitched, beneath the trees; while thus employed, I
found a scorpion among the moss and leaves where I was sitting, which
induced me to repeat those lines of Byron:—
“The mind that broods o’er guilty woes
Is like the scorpion girt by fire,—
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close,
Till, inly search’d by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,
One sad and sole relief she knows,
The sting she nourish’d for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain.”
My memory was a source of woe to the scorpion at Bhadráj; they surrounded
him with a circle of fire; as the heat annoyed him he strove to get over
the circle, but the burning charcoal drove him back; at last, mad with
pain, he drove his sting into his own back; a drop of milk-white fluid
was on the sting, and was left on the spot which he struck; immediately
afterwards the scorpion died: Mr. R⸺ saw him strike the sting into his
own back. When it was over we felt a little ashamed of our scientific
cruelty, and buried the scorpion with all due honour below the ashes
that had consumed him: a burnt sacrifice to science. In a note in “the
Giaour,” the idea is mentioned as an error, of the scorpion’s committing
suicide, but I was one of the witnesses to the fact.
_29th._—Saw a fine mule for sale for £10, and bought him immediately for
my own riding; mules are generally very safe on these dangerous roads.
Also purchased two smaller ones for the estate for £9, water-bags and
all. A man brought a number of fine fat Karral sheep, fit for table, from
the interior, where they are fattened on acorns; I purchased four of them
for twenty-four rupees eight ānās; the mutton is delicious; they have
short tails and large horns, are very strong, and their fleeces, long and
warm, are suited to their own hill climate.
_30th._—The weather constantly fine, cool, and pleasant; we have a little
fire lighted merely in the morning and evening. Purchased Sancho, a
handsome retriever, from a private in the Lancers.
_May 1st._—My friend Mrs. B⸺ and her four children have arrived;
I invited them to come and stay with me; the children are most
interesting,—nevertheless, their noise drives me half crazy; my life has
been so perfectly quiet and solitary of late, the change makes my head
ache.
_Sunday, 6th._—Unable to go to church at Mussoorī; constant rain, very
cold and chilly; the clouds are hanging over the mountains in white heavy
masses, or drifting on this powerful wind up the valleys, or rather
between the ridges of the Hills. I went into the verandah, to see if the
Italian greyhounds were warmly housed, and could not help exclaiming,
“How delicious is this coldness in the Hills!—it is just as wet, windy,
and wretched as in England:” thus mingling the recollected misery of a
wet, raw day in England, and the delight of a cold day in India. The boys
are calling me to have a game of marbles with little apples,—the small
sweet apples we get from Meerut.
My mule, who has been christened Don Pedro, carries me beautifully; we
canter and trot up and down hill at an excellent pace; he has but one
fault,—a dangerous one in the Hills,—that of shying; he would be worth
two hundred rupees if he were not timid.
The conical form of The Hills is their great peculiarity; in order to
gain sufficient level ground, on which to build the house at Bhadráj,
it was necessary to cut off the top of the hill,—a work of labour and
expense. A khud is a valley between two hills, which is generally very
narrow, so much so, that a horse might leap across the bottom of several
of the khuds I have seen near Landowr. The building of the house at
Cloud End has proceeded at a great rate; five hundred Hill-coolies are
constantly employed under the eye of an European, to keep them at their
work. The house has been roofed in, and my relative has come up from
Meerut, to have the slates put on after some peculiar _hikmat_ (fashion)
of his own.
_7th._—The storm of yesterday rendered the air so pure and clear, it was
most refreshing; I mounted my mule, and went to spend the day at Bhadráj.
The Snowy Ranges were distinct and beautiful, the wild flowers lovely
on every rock; the ride was one of great enjoyment. The wild notes of
the Hill birds were heard in every direction, and the cuckoo was sending
forth its old familiar note. On my arrival I found one of the ponies at
the estate had been killed by a fall over the precipice when bringing up
water from the khud.
_14th._—Capt. S⸺ says, a very severe earthquake was felt at his estate
during the storm the other night: he was asleep in the outer building,
and was awakened by the shock, which threw down the gable end of it;
fortunately, the large stones fell outwards, or he would have been killed
on his bed; he ran out, and took refuge in the little tent. The shock
also split open the stone wall of the mule-shed. Although his estate is
only six miles off, we did not feel the earthquake at Landowr.
_18th._—My fair friend and myself having been invited to a pic-nic at
a waterfall, about two thousand feet below Landowr, we started on our
gūnths at 5 A.M.; the tents, servants, and provisions had gone on the
day before; none of us knew the way, but we proceeded, after quitting
the road, by a footpath that led up and down the steepest hills; it was
scarcely possible for the gūnths to go over it. At 8 A.M. we arrived,
completely tired, and found an excellent breakfast ready. The waterfall
roared in the khud below, and amidst the trees we caught glimpses of the
mountain torrent chafing and rushing along. After breakfast the gentlemen
went out to explore the path to the waterfall; we soon grew too impatient
to await their return, and followed them.
We descended into the khud, and I was amusing myself jumping from rock
to rock, and thus passing up the centre of the brawling mountain stream,
aided by my long _paharī_ pole of _rous_ wood, and looking for the
picturesque, when my fair friend, attempting to follow me, fell from
the rocks into the water,—and very picturesque and very Undine-like she
looked in the stream! We returned to the tents to have her garments dried
in the sun, and while the poor little lady was doing penance, I wandered
down the stream, of which the various waterfalls are beautiful; and,
although there was a burning sun on the top of the Hills, down below, by
the water, it was luxuriously cool. The path I took was straight down
the torrent; I wandered alone for three hours, refreshing myself with
wild strawberries, barberries, raspberries, and various other Hill fruits
that hung around the stream on every side. The flowers were beautiful,
the wild ferns luxuriant, the noise of the torrent most agreeable,—in
fact, all was charming. On my return, I found the party at the foot of a
beautiful waterfall, eighty feet in height; the spot was lovely, it was
overhung with trees, from the topmost boughs of which gigantic climbers
were pendant. How gaily did we partake of excellent wine and good fare on
that delicious spot! It was nearly sunset ere we mounted our gūnths, and
took the path through the village of Būttah.
This village is inhabited by Hill people; I saw a very good-looking woman
at a cottage door, in a very picturesque dress, and wished to go and
speak to her, but was deterred from so doing, as the Hill-men appeared
to dislike the gentlemen passing near the village: I must go alone some
day, and see her again. By mistake we lost the path, and got into paddy
fields, where we were obliged to dismount, and take the ponies down the
most dangerous places. My fair companion was on a mare from the plains;
we were obliged to tie a rope to the animal, and leap her down those
places over which the ponies scrambled; we went down the dry bed of a
torrent for some distance, and it was most curious to see how the gūnths
got over and down the rocks. Walking fatigued me to excess; I mounted my
gūnth, and rode up some frightful places, up the bed of a small torrent,
where there was no path; the gūnth clambered up the rocks in excellent
style. Presently Mrs. B⸺ thought she would do the same; she had not been
on the mare ten minutes when I heard a cry, “The mem sāhiba has fallen
into the khud!” Her horse had refused to clamber up a rocky ascent,
I suppose she checked him, he swerved round, and fell down the khud;
fortunately he fell on his right side, therefore her limbs were above
him, and they slipped down together, the horse lying on his side, until,
by the happiest chance, his downward course was stopped by a tree. The
sā’īses ran down, pulled her off, and brought her up the Hill; afterwards
they got the horse up again in safety. But for the tree, the lady and
her steed would have been dashed to pieces; she was bruised, but not
much hurt. Her scream alarmed me,—I thought it was all over. We returned
completely tired; but the day had been one of great delight, the scenery
lovely, and the air delicious.
From Landowr, looking towards Hurdwar, the isolated Hill of Kalunga or
Nālāpanī, with its table-land and Fortress on the highest extremity, is
visible. When the steady coolness and bravery of the Ghoorkas, united
with insurmountable obstacles, compelled our troops to fall back, General
Gillespie determined to carry the place; and, at the head of three
companies of the 53rd Regiment, reached a spot within thirty yards of
a wicket defended by a gun; there, as he was cheering the men,—waving
his hat in one hand, and his sword in the other, he was shot through
the heart, and fell dead on the spot. Thus died as brave and reckless a
cavalier as ever put spur on heel; his sword is one of the interesting
relics of my museum. I never meet a hardy, active little Ghoorka, with
a countenance like a Tartar, and his kookree at his side, but I feel
respect for him, remembering the defence of Kalunga. The women showed as
much bravery as the men; showers of arrows and stones were discharged at
the enemy: the women threw the stones dexterously,—severe wounds were
inflicted by them; and they undauntedly exposed themselves to the fire
of the enemy; they acted with the natural courage inherent in us all,
never having been taught that it was pretty and interesting to be sweet,
timid creatures! Perhaps, after all, the noble conduct of these Ghoorka
women may be traced to a reason given by a modern European author, who
covertly asserts, that women, not having souls as men have, are guided
in all their actions by instinct! The Hindūs are equally complimentary,
and assert,—“A woman cannot be kept in due subjection, either by gifts,
or kindness, or correct conduct, or the greatest services, or the laws
of morality, or by the terror of punishment,—for she cannot discriminate
between good and evil!”
The kookree is a semicircular, long, heavy knife, always carried by the
Ghoorkas; sometimes the sheath is curiously embroidered with strips
from the quill of the peacock’s feather: two small crooked knives are
generally in the same sheath. The kookree is used for war as well as for
all domestic purposes.
The sword used by the Ghoorka officers called a “korah,” or a “bughalee,”
is also used by the executioners in China for decapitation, with a
back-handed drawing cut.
The sling used by Hill-men is made of a thick long cord of worsted,
having a little breadth in the centre, in which, having placed the stone,
they whisk the sling round, and launch it. Specimens of all these weapons
I brought from the Hills. The sling above described was doubtless used by
the Ghoorka women at Kalunga.
_22nd._—We mounted our gūnths so early we were at Cloud End by 7 A.M.
to breakfast. Ben Oge, the hill adjoining, is the highest point at
Mussoorī. The day was bright and clear. Captain S⸺ asked us to ride to
the summit; he accompanied us on foot. The view from the top of Ben Oge
was beautiful: the Snowy Ranges were so clear and distinct, you could
see every peak. I thought of Captain Skinner’s journal as I looked at
the peaks of Jumnotrī, the source of the Jumna, and traced the river
as it wound below through the khuds at the foot of the mountains, its
course doubling like a hare. Beyond was the Peak of Gangotrí, from which
the Ganges rises. I longed to march into the interior, to behold the
grandeur of the scenery of the Himalaya. Ben Oge is quite treeless at the
summit, but the ground was covered with wild lavender, thyme, and various
mountain flowers of great beauty, while numberless butterflies flitted
over them. My relative found the breeze very chilly, but the sun was so
hot it made my head spin; we returned to his house: he was seized with
cholera, from the heat of his body being suddenly checked by the cold
air, and the sun pouring on his head; he was very ill, and in great pain
for two hours. We returned home, determined not to ascend another hill
during the heat of the day.
_26th._—My little widow and I were out riding at seven in the morning; on
our return we were surprised to find a very severe earthquake had been
experienced at Landowr and Mussoorī, which had frightened all the people;
there were three distinct shocks. We on our gūnths did not feel the
shocks; there are but few hours in the day in which an earthquake could
catch us off our ponies.
I have never put on a bonnet since I came to the Hills; like the steeds
in the “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” which “stood saddled in stable day
and night,” so am I saddled in my hat and riding-habit, always on my
pony; my visits are made on horseback. I have a jampan, (a sort of
chair, with poles, carried by Hill-men,) but this is a disagreeable kind
of conveyance; and I like the independence of my pony much better. The
earthquake was charming; we seem to have all the eccentricities of nature
around us. A Landowr Ætna or Vesuvius would figure well in my journal,
could we be lucky enough to discover a burning mountain in these Snowy
Regions.
_28th._—I gave a pic-nic party by the side of a mountain stream, in a
deep khud at Jerrīpānī: the barberries were quite ripe, in shape much
thicker than the English, in colour black, very good in taste. The wild
dog-rose hung its clusters of white flowers from almost every tree in the
richest profusion;—it is a beautiful climber.
_June 1st._—The weather is hot during the middle of the day, the
thermometer 70°; one cannot go out with comfort, unless the day be cloudy
or stormy; it is very hot for the Hills.
_5th._—A very hot day;—the Hills covered with a fog-like smoke,
occasioned by the burning of the jangal in the valley below; hot and
smoky air comes up in volumes. Mrs. M⸺ was riding this evening, when a
leopard seized her spaniel, which was not many yards in front of her
pony; the shouts of the party alarmed the animal, and he let the dog
drop; however, the poor spaniel died of his wounds. Some officers laid
wait for the leopard, and shot it; I saw it, coming up the Hill, fastened
on a bamboo, to be stuffed and prepared with arsenical soap.
_7th._—Mr. D⸺ invited us to a pic-nic at Bhadráj; we selected a spot
under a fine oak tree on the estate at Cloud End; numberless amusements
were provided for us: a champagne tiffin was pleasant under the old oak
tree; and a dinner, rich and rare, finished the amusements of the day.
When the moon arose we mounted our gūnths; and, as the road lay through
the dark shade of trees, and on the edge of precipices, we determined to
be careful, and agreed to muster three times on our journey of six miles,
to see that none of the party had fallen into the khud. Away we cantered
through the beautiful moonlight, almost racing our ponies. At the last
muster, Mr. H⸺ was thrown by his mule; but as he was scarcely hurt, it
was only a laughing matter. We reached home at half-past eleven, after a
beautiful ride and a pleasant day.
_10th._—One of the officers of the Buffs met a bear the other day, and
was glad to get off unhugged; bears as well as leopards abound in the
Hills. I must not take my pet dog out riding with me; at this time of the
year wild beasts are numerous, and render it dangerous.
We have a great number of visitors every day in the Hills; people have
nothing to do but to run about calling and amusing themselves. A third
earthquake has taken place; but, as usual, I on my gūnth was unconscious
of the quaking of the earth. A storm of thunder, lightning, and hail
has cooled the air, and it is very pleasant weather. The Hills look so
beautiful at night, when they are on fire; the fire never spreads, but
runs up to the top of the Hill; they fire them below in several places at
once, to burn the old long grass, and make way for the new to sprout up.
_11th._—A letter from Allahabad tells me, a most severe storm took place
there on the third of this month,—more severe than the one in which the
Seagull was wrecked; it only lasted an hour. It blew down one of the
verandahs of our house, unroofed the cow-house, the meat-house, the
wild-duck-house, the sheep-house, &c.: the repairs will not cost us less
than seven hundred rupees (£70).
_13th._—Accompanied Mr. R⸺ to see the Botanical Garden, which is small,
but interesting: I ate cherries from Cashmere, saw a very fine Hill lily
from the interior, and gathered many beautiful flowers. Some peaches,
from the Dhoon valley, very large and fine, like English peaches, were
sent me to-day.
_18th._—Our party being engaged to dine at Cloud End to-day, under the
old oak tree, we got up at 6 A.M., when we found the Hills covered with
thick white clouds from the bottom of the khuds to their summits; the
clouds were so thick, and we were so completely in the midst of them, you
could not see beyond the verandah; the thunder rolled, and the sheeted
lightning flashed. After a while the wind blew off the clouds, and the
Hills re-appeared, but only for a few moments, when fresh clouds rolled
up from the valley, and every thing was again hidden in the white foggy
cloud. The rain fell heavily, straight down from the heavens: I trust the
rains have set in this day; without them the famine, and the sickness
which is raging in the plains below, will continue.
This specimen of what the rains will prove has quite horrified my fair
friend, and she is wishing herself back again at Meerut. I—who am fond of
storm and tempest—have enjoyed the day; I like these hurly-burly scenes;
too frequent repetition might perhaps render them annoying, and the
dampness might be productive of rheumatism. Thermometer 1 P.M. 69°.
_19th._—At half-past 7 A.M. our party were at Cloud End, seated on
the rocks under the old oak, enjoying breakfast after the ride. The
delicious mountain air made me feel so well, I proposed to Captain A⸺
to visit the summit of Bhadráj, seven miles off. The rest of the party
thought the exertion too great, and would not join us. On quitting the
made road we entered a track on the side of the mountain, overhanging
a deep precipice. We lost our way, and found we could neither turn our
mules round, nor proceed any further. We dismounted; Captain A⸺, with
some difficulty, turned my mule; he then attempted to do the same to his
own,—the animal became skittish, and, slipping from his hand, went down
the side of the hill; how he kept his feet was wonderful. The mule looked
quietly up at us from below; to have attempted to catch him would have
sent him down the rock to certain death, we therefore walked off, leaving
this most beautiful mule, for which £20 had just been paid, to his fate.
As we expected, when he found the other mule had gone off, he ascended
the rock with the utmost caution, and rejoined his companion; I was glad
to see his bridle in his master’s hand again.
After much toil we arrived at the flag-staff on the top of the hill;
thence the view was such as is seldom seen in such perfection, even in
these mountains:—looking down towards the plain of the Deyra Dhoon,
instead of the beautiful valley in all its emerald green, intersected
by rivers pouring down from the Hills,—instead of this, white clouds
entirely filled the plain, giving it the appearance of being filled with
hills covered with snow; beyond were the dark hills of the Lower Range;
the next minute the clouds changed their appearance, and rushed up the
Hills on a strong wind, covering several mountains at a time in a most
extraordinary manner with volumes of white cloud; then, driving on, left
them bright in the sunshine. The river Jumna, in the khud or valley, at
times visible, at times concealed by clouds, wound its tortuous course
below. I have seen the Hills under almost all forms, but the grandeur
of the view on this stormy day exceeded any thing I had before beheld,
and well repaid the fatigue. At times it rained a little, at times there
was a scorching sunshine, then came gusts of wind and clouds, wrapping
every object around us in dense white vapour. A little further on we
found a Hindū idol, rudely cut in stone; this idol is now neglected,
but was formerly much worshipped. Near it is a large stone, on which
is chiselled, “Lady Hood, 1814:” on speaking of this to the political
agent, he laughed and said, “You were more enterprising than Lady Hood;
you visited the spot,—she only sent a man to chisel out her name, and
that of Colonel B⸺ on the top of Bhadráj; she never visited the place in
person.” We returned to dinner at Cloud End: how glad we were of a glass
of champagne after our fatigues! and how glad we were we had brought
the beautiful mule back in safety! After tea, remounting our steeds, we
returned to Landowr: I rode in the course of that day twenty-six miles,
up and down hill,—a pretty good distance for a lady;—but who can feel
fatigue in the bracing, most enjoyable air of these delightful mountains?
_21st._—At twenty-two minutes after 4 P.M., an earthquake shook the
ground and the house; I was sitting at table and felt the shocks, which
were very powerful. Rain, rain, storms, storms, thunder and lightning
daily: truly, saith the proverb, “There are storms in high places.”
_24th._—A delightful day! How fine, how beautiful are the Snowy Ranges!
In consequence of the heavy rain the roads have become very rotten
and dangerous; in many parts, half the road has fallen into the khud;
and where the path is often not three feet in width, it leaves but a
small space for a man on his gūnth. Mr. T⸺, of the artillery, met with
a serious accident this morning; the road was much broken, and as he
attempted to ride over it, it gave way; he and his pony went down the
precipice. Mr. T⸺ was stopped in his descent, after he had gone one
hundred feet, by a tree, was brought up, and carried to a surgeon. He was
much hurt in the head, but is expected to recover in two or three weeks;
no bones were broken: the pony went down two hundred and fifty feet, and
was found alive!
One of my men was brought in for medical aid, he had been employed in
charge of a gang of Hill-men, cutting slates for the roof of the new
house, in a deep khud, and had caught a fever. The slates found in the
Hills are very good, but more brittle than those of Europe. The houses
formerly were all thatched at Landowr; a thatched roof is dangerous on
account of the lightning which so often strikes and sets fire to it.
Captain S⸺ introduced slated roofs, and several people have followed the
good example he has set them.