JULY 4th, 1868.--Started from Murree for Kashmir at 5.30 a.m. Bell,
Surgeon 36th Regt. [Since deceased] came with me four miles. Walked on
expecting the dandy to overtake me, but it did not, and I marched all
the way, nine miles up a steep hill to Khaira Gullee, where I halted and
put up in one of the old sheds formerly used by the working party when
the road was being made. I am not tired, though my left heel is
blistered, which is fair considering I have not walked half a mile for
more than a month. The road is excellent and the scenery fine, the Khuds
being sometimes deep, but nothing like the eastern Himalayas. The forest
too is quite different, fir trees predominating here. Saw many beautiful
birds, and regretted I had not brought my gun. In the evening a
thunderstorm came on with a cold wind from the north, so I made a good
fire with a few fir logs. In the middle of the night the storm became
very violent, and large hailstones fell.
JULY 5th.--Got away at sunrise, the rain having quite cleared off, and
marched on to Doonga Gullee, up a hill to an elevation of 9,000 feet,
and then down again to about 7,000; then up a final steep to Doonga
Gullee, 8,000 feet above the sea. The Khuds much grander very deep and
precipitous, sometimes falling one or two thousand feet from the edge of
the road almost perpendicularly. But the hills are too close together to
allow the valleys to be termed magnificent. Reached Doonga Gullee at 10
a.m. The length of last march, eleven miles--the road, a good military
one, has been cut in the face of the mountain. Put up at the Dâk
Bungalow, and dined with the officers of the working party; among them
Heath, of the 88th, and Leggatt and Lyons, of the 77th, whom I knew. A
number of tents are pitched here for the working parties from the 19th
and 77th Regiments (road making). I was carried part of the march in my
dandy--a piece of carpet gathered at each end and hooked to a pole,--the
pole being carried on the shoulders of two men. I swung below it just
off the ground, and could often look down a vast depth between my knees.
My first pickled tongue, cooked the day before yesterday was fly-blown
at breakfast this morning. This may seem a trifling note, but it is
ominous I fear for the whole of my salted stores.
JULY 6th.--Got up at 4 o'clock and marched on to Bugnoota, a distance
of thirteen miles. The first four miles a slight rise, and then a rapid
descent all the rest of the way. The road is much narrower, only a mule
track in fact, I walked twelve miles, and then felt tired, and had a
headache afterwards. Pitched my tent in a tope, (a grove of trees) in
company with Dr. and Mrs. Holmes, of Rohat, whom I did not know. Slight
rain in the middle of the day, but it cleared off towards evening. Felt
all right after an hour's sleep and took a stroll before dinner. Scenery
grand, tent pitched on the edge of a deep gorge at the bottom of which
is a mountain stream, the hills rising abruptly on the opposite side.
JULY 7th.--Marched on to Abbottabad at sunrise, down hill to the river,
and then along its course for two miles over very rough and fatiguing
ground, the river having to be forded twice. In rainy weather this is
very dangerous as its rush is so impetuous. Up hill again then down into
the plain of Abbottabad, 4,000 feet above the sea. Distance twelve miles
though only put down eight in the route. Met the General at the bottom
of the hill. Put up at the Dâk Bungalow, and met Ford, 88th, and De
Marylski, R.A., returning from Kashmir, got some hints from them.
Abbottabad is a small cantonment on a large plain surrounded by bare
mountains, a notice is posted in my room warning travellers not to go
unarmed; so I'll gird on my Kookery to-morrow. A Kookery is a formidable
native knife, about eighteen inches long and over two inches wide,
carried in a peculiar way, sheep and goats heads come off very easily at
a single blow from it. Much hotter down here, the sun powerful after 10
o'clock, but Punkahs not necessary. This is the Head-Quarters of the
Punjab Frontier force. A pity they do not have an English Regiment
stationed here as it is a very pleasant place as regards climate. Snow
in winter, and this the warmest time of the year quite bearable.
Brigadier gone to the _hills_ for the _hot weather._ Took in supplies of
bread and butter and purchased a pair of chuplus or sandals for
marching in, as boots hurt my feet.
JULY 8th.--A long tedious march of nearly fifteen miles to Mansera, put
down in the guide as a level plain road, but having a good many ups and
downs. One of my sandals broke, and I was obliged to ride in the dandy
about half way. Some difficulty occurred in getting my baggage off as
the Coolies did not come. Left my boy to manage it, he came in about
noon with two ponies, I shall not pay for them yet, and then they will
come on with me. A warmer day than yesterday. Mountains rising up in
front, which I shall begin to ascend to-morrow if I make the whole march
of twenty miles. Snow visible above all. The real work of the trip will
now soon commence. The marches hitherto have been child's play compared
with those to come. Mansera is only a native village, but there is a Dâk
Bungalow, in which I am now. Met Captain Ellis, of the 4th Hussars,
returning from Kashmir, and had a talk with him. There are _two_ routes
open to me, he advises the one which yesterday I was warned against by
the other fellows. They have been over both roads, yet do not agree as
to which is the best. Ellis was disappointed with Kashmir, but he has
only been a few months in India, and has not yet forgotten England, for
I expect that Kashmir after all, is only so very pleasant, by contrast
with the plains of India.
JULY 9th.--Started an hour before sunrise and did the whole march to
Ghuri, distance nineteen miles. Walked the greater part of the way in
sandals and socks, which I find the most comfortable way of getting on.
First half of the march along the level to the foot of the hill, then an
undulating road through a pine forest, the latter half easy walking
owing to the ground being covered with fallen fir leaves which made it
as soft as a carpet. A fine view from the top of hill, looking down to
Ghuri. The river Ghuri, a mountain torrent seen for a long distance
rushing with a great roar over its rocky bed, bounded on each side by
high hills, and above by mountains covered with snow, from the melting
of which it arises. The water is consequently icy cold, and my tub at
the end of the march was highly invigorating. Put up at the Dâk
Bungalow, a neat, clean, furnished building, standing on the right bank
of the river, which is crossed just in front by a very fair suspension
bridge. I can trace my route for to-morrow, for several miles, and I
look at it with dismay as it ascends a terribly steep hill. There are
two other men in the Bungalow, but I do not know who they are. I have
not mentioned my equipment. It is so simple that a few lines will tell
all. Two suits of old clothes, three flannel shirts, two warm under
flannels, two pair of boots, "a light pair and a heavy pair of
ammunitions," socks, handkerchiefs, &c., Mackintosh, warm bedding, a
small tent called a "shildaree," a two-rolled ridge tent, about eight
feet square, a dressing bag containing toilet requisites, a metal basin,
salted tongues and humps, potatoes, tea, sugar, flour, mustard, &c., one
bottle of brandy, to be reserved for medicinal use, a portable charpoy
or bedstead, cane stool, a little crockery, knives and forks, cooking
utensils, brass drinking cup for every purpose, a gingham umbrella with
white cover, a dandy (previously described), solar topee, and light cap,
tobacco, soap, and candles, a kookery, a stout alpen stock, a pass into
Kashmir, and bag of money, and "voilà tout." For carrying this baggage,
I require two mules, and two Coolies, or when mules are not procurable,
seven Coolies. Four other Coolies man my dandy, and these men are going
all the way with me. Each Coolie receives four annas, or sixpence a day,
and a mule costs eight annas. Stopped under a "pepel tree" and sent some
Coolies up it for the fruit, which was ripe. This tree is the Indian
fig, and the fruit is very small, not larger than marbles; and without
much flavor. The river is running a few yards from me, with a sound as
of the surf on a rocky beach. I hope ere long to hear the same pleasant
music seated on the cliffs of the south coast of Guernsey. Now my time
in India is drawing to a close, I begin to think that it has not been
altogether wasted, though I would not prolong it a day. All I have seen
and done within a period of three years (so much falls to the lot of few
men to perform) must have had some effect upon my mind; at any rate,
when safe at home again, I shall have much to talk of, many experiences
to relate. My dog Silly who accompanies me, was awfully done up towards
the end of the march. At last we came to a running stream in which he
laid down and was much refreshed, before that his panting had become
gasping though he kept up with us bravely, only lying down for a moment
when we came to a little bit of shade--not often met with, the last
three or four miles. For the last day or two, I have been almost
continually in a cool, gentle perspiration, this is a great contrast to
my state when at Peshawur, where my skin was always as dry as a bone,
and I look upon that as a healthy symptom, I have had no headache since
I left Bugnostan.
JULY 10th.--To Mozufferabad nine miles, but apparently much more, such a
bad fatiguing march. I got away with the first grey of the dawn and
after a mile's tramp began the ascent of the Doabbuller pass, three and
a half miles long and very steep, so steep that I could often touch the
ground with my hands without stooping much. This was terribly exhausting
and I had to make many halts to recover my breath. Then began a rough
descent along the side of a mountain torrent and afterwards over its
bed, which is a narrow gorge between high hills. This walking was very
rough and difficult; the path being covered with great stones and often
undistinguishable. Indeed it was no path at all, only the ground
occasionally a little trodden. Through the stream, backwards and
forwards _innumerable_ times we went. I found that my feet, though naked
except where covered by the straps of the sandals, were able to take
care of themselves, and avoid contusion almost without the help of my
eyes. Then I came to a large and rapid river called the Kishun-gunga
crossed by a rope bridge. Let me describe the bridge. Three or four
leather ropes about one inch in diameter tied into a bundle to walk
upon, three feet above this, a couple of ropes, two feet apart, the
upper ropes connected to the lower one at intervals of four or five
yards by stakes. This formed a V shape, and you walk on the point of the
V and hold on by the two sides. The breadth of the river is sixty yards,
and the bridge which is high above the water forms a considerable curve.
The description of the bridge is easy enough, but how shall I describe
my feelings, when I had gone a few yards and found myself poised in
mid-air like a spider on a web, oscillating, swaying backwards and
forwards over a foaming and roaring torrent, the rush of the water if I
looked at my feet, made me feel as if I was being violently carried in
the opposite direction; the bridge swayed and jumped with the weight of
half a dozen natives coming from the opposite side whom I had to pass,
the whole thing seemed so weak and the danger so terrible that I turned
giddy, lost my head, and cried out to be held. A firm hand at once
grasped me behind and another in front. I shut my eyes and so proceeded
a few yards. Then those dreadful men had to be passed. Imagine meeting
a man on a rope fifty feet above a torrent and requiring him to "give
you the wall." However they were passed by a mysterious interlacing of
feet; and when half way over I regained confidence, and bid the men
"chando" or release me, and so gained the opposite bank, where I sat
down and roared with laughter at my "boy" who was then coming over, and
who evidently was much more affected than I was. However he arrived
safely with his black face _pale_, dripping with perspiration and saying
he was sick. What was most amusing was to see him hooking his legs one
in front of the other on his way over, but I dare say I was equally
laughable to anyone on terra firma. He told me afterwards "water all go
down, and I go up and get sick and giddy." Another two miles over a low
ridge and I got to Mozufferabad and put up at the Barahduree provided by
the Maharajah for the convenience of English travellers free of charge,
for we are now in Kashmerian territory. This is an unfurnished bungalow
built of mud and pine logs, and there is one at every stage. This saves
the trouble of pitching a tent, and is of course much better in wet
weather. I have not had a drop of rain though yet. Met Watson, of Fane's
Horse, at the bungalow going back to Peshawur. Got Incis's Guide from
him for the day, and made some notes at the other end of this book.
There is a picturesque fort on this bank of the river commanding the
bridge, built by the Pathans, apparently of bright red stone or brick.
It was interesting to see mules and ponies swimming across the stream.
Holding on by the tail of each was a man supported by two inflated
Mussaks or goat skins which are ordinarily used by the Bheisties for
carrying water. Though both man and horse struck out vigorously they
were carried down many hundred yards before reaching the opposite side.
To look at them in the foam and rush of the river, and see their
impetuous career down the current, they appeared to be doomed to certain
destruction. I saw about twenty cross in this way. I walked the whole
of this march, though often tired, as I preferred trusting my own legs
to being carried in the dandy over such bad ground. Curran,
Assistant-Surgeon, 88th Connaught Rangers, is one march in front of me.
He has left his pony here till he returns. I suppose the last march was
too much for him. I am very glad I did not bring my horse with me; I was
strongly advised to do so, but I am afraid advice has not much weight
with me; in this instance anyhow, my own opinion has proved the best.
All the men I meet coming back have horses with them, but they are
nearly all shoeless, lame and sick, and have not been ridden for weeks.
JULY 11th.--Marched on Hultian, distant seventeen miles. Much better
road than yesterday, but many ups and downs and short rough bits.
Started two hours before sunrise, by the light of the moon. The road
soon reached the right bank of the Jhelum and continued the whole
distance alongside of that river. It is a rapid river apparently not so
deep and often not so wide as the Kishun-gunga, its bed strewn with huge
boulders over which the water breaks in great waves of foam. It runs in
a narrow rocky channel the precipitous sides of which are a great
height. How many ages must it have taken to cut this channel in the
solid rock? The valley is bounded by high hills, very narrow, the road
so bare of trees, that the latter half of the march became hot and
wearying, so I had recourse to the dandy for four or five miles. But it
was rare gymnastic exercise as swinging from my pole I had to dodge the
great stones on either side of me and keep a sharp look out to avoid
hard bumps. My dog was again very much fatigued. His tail is a good
token of his state, for when fresh it is stiff along his back, and
gradually drops as he goes along until he is quite exhausted, when it
hangs straight down. Stopped at a Barahduree (not so good a one as the
last) a few feet above the Jhelum in which I bathed. There is a rope
bridge opposite, a much older one than the other I crossed, but not more
than half as long, and not high above the water, some of the ropes are
broken, and it seems very shaky. However, I must cross it to-morrow and
get into the Murree road, which runs parallel to this one, on the other
bank, and is on the shady side and much cooler. It has been very hot all
day. The reason I could not come the direct road from Murree is because
the ferry over the Jhelum lower down, was recently carried away and
twenty-six natives drowned. Sir G. Larpent's (of the 88th) baggage was
in the boat, and he lost it all. He had not crossed and had to go back
to Murree minus everything including servants. There is excellent
Mahseer fishing in this river, the fish attain the enormous size of
80lbs. weight and afford exciting sport; but I have no tackle with me,
and did not even bring a gun, as I thought I should be too seedy to do
anything but moon about. I did not then know the great exertion
necessary to reach Kashmir, an exertion which any man with bodily
infirmity would hardly venture on without first providing himself with
an undertaker. Upon making enquiries I find that all the Coolies and
supplies on the other road, have been sent over to this side, so I must
keep to it and not cross as I intended. In the evening a slim young
native came to me and offered to swim across the river for Bakhshish, "a
present." I promised it to him, and he ran a quarter of a mile up, and
plunged into the torrent, landing on the opposite side a little below
the bungalow. He then went up the river again, and swam down to this
side, no mean feat in turbulent water running as it did with tremendous
velocity. I gave him eight annas for it.
JULY 12th, "Sunday."--In the middle of last night a storm came on, I was
sleeping in the open air, and the lightning awoke me, it was beginning
to rain, and I had to move into the house. It was broad daylight when I
was called, and I felt disinclined to proceed. I said it would rain, and
I would halt. My boy said, "No Sir, no rain." I said the sun would come
out and it would be burning hot. He said, "No Sir, no sun." I felt it
was useless continuing the argument, so I got up and marched to Kunda,
eighteen miles, walking all the way. A hard march, nothing but steep
rough ascents, and corresponding descents, still keeping along the
river, but two or three hundred feet above it. My Coolies pointed out to
me a herd of "chiken" on a very high hill, at least four miles away. I
saw nothing, for even big trees at that distance were diminished to
very small objects, but did not dispute with them. They say uncivilized
man has wonderful sight, and if deer were there, he certainly has far
higher powers of vision even, than I had been led to expect. Met three
men leaving Kashmir, and exchanged remarks with them. Don't know who
they were. Caught sight of my destination from the top of one hill, and
was delighted to see it was quite close to me. But alas! several weary
miles of up and down and in and out had to be traversed before it could
be reached. This has several times happened to me, and I shall in future
put no faith in appearances. The Barahduree here is a two storied one,
standing I should think five hundred feet above the river, which is
here confined in a very narrow channel. I took the upper room which has
three sides and a roof, there being no wall facing the river, over which
there is a fine and rather extended view, the more distant mountains
being crowned with pine forests. Had neither sun nor rain while
marching, but soon afterwards the sun shone out, though heavy and
threatening clouds continued to hang about the horizon. As I write this
I hear the first roll of thunder, there will be another storm to-night.
The Maharajah's officials come to me at every stage to enquire my wants
and provide for the same. Other natives also come with an insane
request,--a medical prescription for a sick Bhai (or brother) who
always has fever, and is at a great distance. What possible use a
prescription could be to them I cannot decide. The storm came up just
before dinner, 6 p.m., and was rather sharp but soon over. I came up the
valley of the Jhelum, and I watched its course for some time before it
arrived. It subsequently struck the edge of the house and I was all
right; had it come down the valley which runs at right angles to the
Jhelum just opposite here I should have been blown out. I again noticed
that to which my attention has often been directed, viz.: that when in
or near the storm clouds, the thunder is of quite a different character
to that heard below. It is a continuous low muttering growl without any
claps or peals. I have stood in the storm cloud at Sinchal, 9,000 feet
high, with the lightning originating around me and affording the
sublimest spectacle of dazzling brilliancy, and varying in colour from
the purest white light to delicious rose and blue tints. I have seen it
intensified and focussed as it were within a few feet of me, and from
this centre angled lines and balls of fire like strings of beads
radiated in all directions. Yet the thunder which in the plains was
heard pealing and roaring its loudest, was up there barely audible.
JULY 13th.--From Kunda to Kuthin twelve miles of hard toiling over a
similar road to that of the last march, finishing with a long, steep,
and very rough ascent to the high plateau on which Kuthin stands. On the
top of this I took to my dandy and was carried a mile along the level to
the Barahduree, where I slept upon the charpoy which is provided at
every bungalow for the weary travellers to rest upon pending the arrival
of his baggage. These plateaus or table lands exist at intervals all the
way up the valley, sometimes on one side sometimes on the other and
occasionally on both the river in the middle. They are quite flat, very
small, and highly productive, and vary from fifty to three or four
hundred feet in height, above the river. The valley which widens where
they exist, is narrowed again at either extremity. I can only account
for their formation by supposing that at a former time, a chain of lakes
existed, of which they are the beds, and that the water subsequently
burst through and formed the channel of the present Jhelum, leaving
these beds dry as we now see them. Came across a number of large tailed
butterflies of a lovely green and blue metallic lustre. Secured an
un-injured specimen, and for want of a better place stuck it inside my
topee, where I expect to carry it safely until my return to Peshawur.
Another storm came on earlier than yesterday. I have been very lucky
hitherto, not having had a drop of rain while marching. This morning was
cloudy till within a mile or two of Kuthin when the sun shone and made
the last ascent doubly trying. This is a very small village (at Kunda
there was only one hut) but there is a mud fort with bastions at each
corner but no guns. The walls are loop-holed for musketry, but there
does not seem to be any garrison. On making enquiries, I find there is a
garrison of seven men. It is getting dusk and mosquitoes are coming out
by hundreds, they have not annoyed me before, but I think I must use my
net to-night. I lie on my bed after dinner smoking with a lighted candle
by my side. A hornet flies in and settles on my hand, then a large
beetle comes with a buzz and a thud against me, making me start. Sundry
moths, small flies, and beetles, are playing innocently round the flame.
In half an hour I shall be able to make a fair entomological collection
but as I neither (Ha! I've killed the hornet) desire them in my hat
dead, nor in my bed alive, I must put out the light, give up writing,
and smoke in darkness.
JULY 14th.--To Shadera, twelve miles walked all the way. The road worse
than ever, and for the last mile actually dangerous, as it passed along
the edge of a deep precipice, and was only a foot wide and considerably
out of the horizontal, so that a single false step would have been
fatal. Road continued same character all the way along, though much
above the tortuous and noisy Jhelum, and its ups and downs were the
roughest, longest, and most trying, I have yet experienced. I am pleased
to know that the remaining two marches will be, in the words of my
Coolies over "uch'-cha rasta," a good road. It remained cloudy and
threatening the greater part of the way, and a little rain fell, but
eventually the sun shone, though great masses of "cumuli" continue to
hang about. This is a small village completely shut in by three huge
hills standing very close together. Between the sides of the two in
front, the summit of a fourth is visible, a magnificent towering
mountain, covered with a dense pine forest. I have not seen the snows
since I crossed the Doobbullee pass, as we have been ascending the
valley of the Jhelum ever since, and the view is confined by its lofty
sides. I have eaten my last loaf for breakfast this morning, and now one
of the greatest privations of the journey will begin. No bread, nothing
but flour and water made into a kind of pancake, which the natives call
"chepattie." I have not tasted fresh meat since I left Abbottabad, but
that one can do very well without. I live upon fowls, eggs, milk, butter
and rice, with a tongue or hump, cooked when necessary. Two or three
miles from Kuthai, we passed a very pretty waterfall. The slender stream
fell over a smooth perpendicular rock, of a rich brown colour, 100 feet
high, like a thread of silver. Both sides of the gorge covered with a
variety of beautifully green trees, shrubs and ferns, altogether
constituting a delightful picture, the tints mingled so harmoniously,
yet with strong contrasts. Stopped at the Barahduree as usual, this one
surrounded with wild fig, plum, peach, pomegranate, and mulberry trees.
The mulberries only ripe, and like all wild fruit, small and
comparatively tasteless.
JULY 15th.--Started as soon as it was light for Gingle, fourteen miles
distant. Road greatly improved, hilly of course, but tolerably smooth so
that one could get on without clambering. About half way passed Dorie on
the left bank of the river, where there is another fort and a strong
rope bridge, it is one of the halts on the Murree road, farther on came
to an old ruin, four thick walls perforated by arches enclosing an open
square in the middle of two of the sides, large masses of masonry formed
archways or entrances. It is built of the rough stones and boulders with
which the surface of the ground is covered, yet the arches are of very
good shape. On the opposite bank of the Jhelum there are forests of
Deodar, but though they grow down to the waters edge, there is not one
on this side. (Larix Deodora, called by the Hindoos, "the God Tree" is a
stately pine, growing to a great height, and of a very gradual and
elegant taper. Its foliage is of the darkest green colour, and it gives
the mountains a very sombre appearance.) The hills have become much more
rugged and abrupt. I know of no single condition which gives a scene so
great an aspect of wildness and desolation, as dead fir trees. There
they stand on the most barren and inaccessible places, rearing their
gaunt and whitened forms erect as ever, and though lifeless yet not
decayed. Seared and blasted by a thousand storms, they stand stern and
silent, ghostlike and immoveable, scorning the elements. No wind murmurs
pleasantly through their dead and shrunken branches, the howling tempest
alone can make them speak, and then with wild straining shriek and harsh
rattle, they do battle with the whirlwind. It was getting hot and I was
thinking of my dandy, when a storm passed over with heavy rain. This was
a mitigated evil (if an evil at all for my bed remained dry, and a wet
bed is the worst result of a shower) as it rendered walking cool and
pleasant. It cleared up again, and I rode the last half mile. The
cleanest and best bungalow here I have been in since I left Ghuri. The
view down the valley is extremely pretty, hills rising one above the
other, but shut in on all other sides by high mountains. Gingle, which
is only one or two huts, stands on a small plateau a quarter of a mile
long by one hundred and fifty yards wide, fifty feet above the Jhelum.
The ground is laid out in paddy fields irrigated by a stream of the
coolest and purest water. It is a great satisfaction to be able to drink
water freely without fear. In the plains of India the water is so
contaminated as to be almost poisonous, and I do not think that previous
to this march I had drank a gallon of it since I landed in Calcutta.
JULY 16th.--Left Gingle with the earliest streak of dawn for Baramula,
an eighteen mile march. Road very much more level, never ascending high
above the river whose erratic course we continued to follow. Passed
through groves of hazel overrun by wild vines, but both grapes and nuts
as yet green. The plateaus become gradually larger and almost
continuous, and the hills separated and diminished in size, those on the
right being covered with the lank deodar, while those on the left
possessed only a bright green mantle of grass, far away in front they
altogether ended, and the open sky above the valley was alone visible.
And now an unusual occurrence presented itself. We were following the
stream upwards towards its source, yet at every mile it increased in
width and became more placid, till at length its surface was unbroken,
and it assumed the form of a magnificent river, wider than the Thames at
Richmond. The hills continued provokingly to overlap one another as
though anxious to shut in and hide the happy valley from sight. But at
length I discerned a far distant white cloud which I guessed betokened
the summit of a mountain, and a few yards further revealed a faint
glistening opaque line which the inexperienced eye would have certainly
taken for a portion of the cloud, but which could not be mistaken by one
who had before seen the snows. About half a mile from Buramula we
obtain the first view of the Vale of Kashmir, but not an extensive one,
as it is obstructed on either side by low hills. However, what is seen
is very pretty. A large level plain traversed by a broad smooth river
which has now lost its tortuous zig-zag course and bounded by the
everlasting snows covering the main backbone of the Himalayas. At the
head of the valley stands the quaint looking town of Baramula surrounded
by hills on all sides but one, embowered in trees and intersected by the
Jhelum, across which there is a good wooden bridge. The houses have
mostly an upper story, and are built of wood with gabled roofs. The
streets are narrow and roughly paved, and I regret to say are not more
pleasant to the nostrils than are those of other Indian towns. The
bridge built of deodar wood, beams of which are driven into the bed of
the river, and then others laid horizontally upon them, each row at
right angles to and projecting beyond the layer beneath, till a
sufficient height has been reached, six of these and two stone piers
form the buttresses of the bridge and a broad pathway of planks connects
them. The march was a fatiguing one on account of its length, and I used
the dandy freely. I shall however discard it altogether for the future.
I went to the Barahduree but found it occupied by a man whose name I was
told was "----," had been there five days. His Coolies had taken
possession of all the rooms, and though I was very angry and inclined to
turn them out, I thought my tent would be preferable to a room just
vacated by the uncleanly native, so I went to an orchard close by,
surrounded by a row of fine poplars, and patiently awaited the arrival
of my baggage which was a long time coming. The gate was guarded by the
Maharajah's sepoys who endeavoured to prevent my entrance. The Thikadar
told me he had no authority for this, but had done it "Zubbur-dustee."
They also say that the occupant of the Barahduree has just come from
England. He is a being shrouded in mystery, and I shall endeavour to
unravel it. My first step will be to report the occurrence to the
officials at S---- when I get there. I took a swim in the Jhelum, whose
course I have now followed for eighty-four crooked miles, and on whose
bosom I shall to-morrow continue my journey.
JULY 17th.--By boat up the river, the day so bright, the view so
glorious, the breeze so balmy and delicious, and the motion so gentle
and pleasant, that lying on my bed I devote myself to lazy listlessness,
to a perfect sense of the "dolce far niente" and can hardly prevail on
myself to disturb my tranquillity by writing these few notes. The
contrast to my thirteen heavy marches is so great that I am content to
remain for the present without thought or action, enjoying absolute
rest. Evening--We halt at Sopoor, and now let me endeavour to continue
the diary. Got up at seven this morning and sent for a boat, one of the
larger kind about thirty feet long, and six feet broad in the middle,
the centre portion covered with an awning made of grass matting. The
crew consisting of an entire family, from the elderly parents to quite
young children--9 in all. I was towed up the still widening river by all
of them in turns, one wee girl not three feet high being most energetic,
though I should think of little real service. Boat flat bottomed, and
alike at both ends, they use paddles instead of oars. But the scene! I
am unable now to do justice to it, so I will only give the outlines to
be elaborated hereafter. Splendid river--verdant plain covered with many
varieties of trees, poplar and chenar or tulip tree the most
conspicuous, extending as far as the eye can reach and enclosed by lofty
snow capped mountains, on which rest the clouds of heaven. Bright blue
King-fishers darting like flashes of light or hovering hawk-like before
the plunge after fish and the many hued dragon flies upon the water
weeds. Among the several varieties of the weeds, I noticed a great
quantity of "Anacharis." Got fresh mutton and apple-pie for dinner.
Swarms of very minute flies came to the candle dancing their dance of
death. Many thousands were destroyed, and their bodies darkened the
board which serves me for a table. Sopoor like Baramula, river bridged,
and grass growing on the roofs of the houses.
JULY 18th.--In the night we moved on, and at five in the morning I was
awoke at the foot of Shukuroodeen Hill, 700 feet high, which I intended
to ascend, and get a _coup d'oeil_ of the valley. Instead of being on a
river, the water now spread out into a great lake (Lake Wulloor) the
largest in Kashmir. Got up and began to ascend the hill, but when half
way up, the strap of one of my sandals gave way, and as I could not
mend it, I was obliged to descend; however, I got an extensive view of
the valley lying spread out at my feet, the lake occupying a great
portion of the view. Went on to Alsoo (about three hours) from whence I
shall march to Lalpore the other side of a range of high hills which
rise very near the water. We are thirty miles from Baramula. The lake is
in many parts covered with a carpet of elegant water weeds which makes
it look like a green meadow, among them the Singara or water nut, a
curiously growing plant which bears spiny pods enclosing a soft
delicately flavoured kernel--heart-shaped, as big as a filbert.
Mosquitoes by thousands, and very annoying, red and distended with their
crimson feast. Alsoo--a rather uninteresting place, grand mountains.
Huramuk to the East, and great expanse of water.
JULY 19th, Sunday.--On the march again to Lalpore, twelve miles. I left
my heavy baggage and dandy in the boat (which here awaits my return) and
only took my tent and bedding with one week's stores, the whole only
four coolie loads, and now began my first taste of real mountain work.
For nearly four hours I was ascending the steep range which rises above
Alsoo, and hard toiling it was. Half way up we met some men with
butter-milk, of which my boy made me drink a quantity, saying it would
"keep master cool." As we rose--the vale spread out magnificently
beneath us, and the large lake was seen to full advantage shining under
the morning sun, which appeared from behind a grand snow-clad mountain.
Near the top we came to the prettiest stream I have seen, its banks
covered with maiden hair and other ferns, fruit trees and firs, and its
surface skimmed by gorgeous flies. The summit gained, I was well
rewarded by a view of the whole of the Solab an off-shoot of the main
valley. A bright gem in a dark setting of deodar covered mountains,
spurs from which radiated into the valley so fair and verdant with its
many villages, its meandering streams, and frequent orchards, the air
laden with the perfume of many flowers. My Bheisties even exclaimed
"bahut ach chtu." I gazed entranced. The descent was long but a much
better path. Going down I came to wild raspberries which I must say were
as large and well flavoured as any garden grown ones, there was also a
small yellow plum which was very nice. Arrived at Lalpore the principal
village, I encamped under a large walnut tree (very fine trees and very
common) covered with its nuts. This valley abounds with bears, I was
certainly cooler after taking the butter-milk, but I attributed it to
the ascent being less steep and the path shady. Saw a magnificent
butterfly of a specimen I did not recognise; attempted to catch it, but
like many other desirable objects in this world, it eluded my grasp at
the very moment I thought I had secured it. Got a fine one of a commoner
sort which I placed in my hat, where the other remains uninjured.
JULY 20th.--I halt at Salpore, awaiting the arrival of my Sirdar dandy
coolie, an intelligent, useful, Kashmiree man, whom I engaged to
continue with me as a servant at Baramula, and gave him four days leave
to visit his home, arranging that he should rejoin me here. I lie under
the shade of the wide spreading walnut trees, inhaling the fragrant
breeze, and enjoying perfect quietude and repose. All is so grand and
peaceful, that my heart swells with holy thoughts of praise and
gratitude to the Almighty Creator, and while gazing on one of the
fairest portions of his great work I find myself unconsciously repeating
the glorious psalm "O come let us sing unto the Lord." It would indeed
be a hard heart and a dull spirit that did not rejoice in the scene, and
acknowledge the power and magnificence of its maker. I see around me
this garden of Kashmir where every tree bears fruit for the use of man,
and every shrub, bright flowers for his enjoyment. Enclosed and guarded
by "the strength of the hills" (a noble sentence which never never
before so forcibly impressed me) and covered by the purest of blue
skies. All nature seems to say to me "To-day if ye hear his voice,
harden not your hearts," and surely the "still small voice" is speaking,
and can be heard by those who will heed it, and have the heart to feel
and the soul to rejoice in the strength of their salvation. The memory
of the beautiful duett in "Haydn's Creation," when newly made Adam and
Eve unite in praising God and extolling his wonderful works comes
freshly before me. Now, something akin to this must have crossed the
mental vision of the grand old Maestro when he wrote; and its calm
glorious music well accords with my present state of mind.
JULY 21st.--A pleasant stroll of ten miles before breakfast to
Koomerial along the level valley, through shady groves of apple, pear,
green-gage, peach, and mulberry trees, and forests of cherry trees
drooping with the weight of their golden blushing fruit. I have not seen
any vines in the Solab. Koomerial is a very small place, and I had a
little difficulty in getting supplies. I ought to have gone three miles
further to a large village; but I'll go there to-morrow, and then return
to Alsoo in two marches. A native came to me with the toothache, begging
assistance, but the tooth required extracting and I could do nothing for
him. Pitched under a walnut tope--the climate delicious, like a warm
English summer, but it is rather hot in my small tent in the middle of
the day; so I have my Charpoy put outside in the shade and lie there
smoking my pipe and thinking. I have spoken of the beauties and
pleasures of the Solab, but I must not omit mention of its annoyances,
flies and mosquitoes, by day the flies abound and cause much irritation
to any exposed part of the body. I do hate tame flies, flies that though
driven away twenty times elude capture, and will pertinaciously return
to the same spot--say your nose--until one is driven nearly mad with
vexation. At dusk the flies return to roost, and then myriads of
mosquitoes emerge from their hiding places, and make night hideous with
their monotonous hum and blood-thirsty propensities. I do not find
chepatties so bad as I expected, indeed I rather like them, but then my
boy makes them excellently well, using soda in their composition. The
process of manufacture is not pleasant--the flour is made into a paste,
and then flattened and consolidated by being thrown backwards and
forwards from one hand to the other, though one may avoid seeing this,
it is difficult to escape hearing the pit-pat of the soft dough as it
passes rapidly between the Khitmutgars extended, and I fear not always
clean fingers, it is then toasted, brought in hot, and you may eat it
dirt and all. But travellers must not be too particular, and so long as
your food is wholesome, eat and be thankful. But here comes my dinner,
with the chepatties I have just seen prepared, and which sight suggested
the foregoing lines. Chicken for breakfast, chicken for dinner, chicken
yesterday, chicken to-morrow, _toujours_ chicken, sometimes curried,
sometimes roasted, torn asunder and made into soup, stew or cutlets, or
with extended wing forming the elegant spatchcock, it is still chicken;
the greatest and rarest change being that it is occasionally rather
tender. I have had chicken soup and roast fowl for dinner, the chicken
in the soup as stringy as hemp, the fowl as tough as my sandal, and with
so large a liver that I doubted whether the bird had not met with a
violent death. I like fowl's liver, it is my one _bonne bouche_ during
the day, but these startled me, and after straining my teeth on the
carcase, I gladly swallow the soft mouthful. Oh! English readers, you
who have never wandered far from your native shores and who esteem
chickens a luxury to put on your supper table at your festive
gatherings, come to India and surfeit on your dainties, you will see it
calmly collecting its daily food unsuspicious of danger, then comes the
rush and loud clacking as it flies pursued by the ferocious native,
ending with cries of despair and the fluttering and hoarse gurgle of its
death throes, in half an hour Murghi will be placed before you hot and
tempting to the eye but hard as nails to the touch; they are cheap in
this part of the world. I pay one anna (or three halfpence) for a
chicken, or two annas for a full grown fowl.
JULY 22nd.--A little march of three miles to Koopwaddie. I am glad I
came here for one or two reasons. In the first place the walk afforded
me a nearer and finer view of the head of the valley, surmounted by its
high and rugged snow peaks; and secondly, I find I can return from here
to Sopoor in two marches instead of going back over the old road. From
Sopoor I shall boat to Alsoo. The range which at Lalpore was on the
further side of the valley has gradually approached the other hills
until now they are only a quarter of a mile apart, and are connected by
short low spurs which I crossed this morning. My road to-morrow will be
behind the first mentioned range, where another portion of the valley
lies. The valley is in fact fork-shaped, intersected by a mountainous
ridge which runs from its lower end for about fifteen miles. The two
portions then unite and form one valley up to the snows, and Koopwaddie
is situated at their junction. The Solab proper is only the eastern arm
which is formed into a _cul de sac_ by the mountains, and in which
Lalpore stands.
JULY 23rd.--To Chargle ten miles down the western fork of a valley
rough and uncultivated by comparison with the Solab. Over a low range of
hills with a very steep descent to Chargle standing on the left bank of
the Pohroo river. Not finding a good place on that side I forded the
river, which is not more than two feet deep, and encamped on smooth
green sward under a walnut tope on the other bank. Fine view from the
top of the hill of the level valley through which the Pohroo runs, with
the broad Jhelum shining like silver in the distance. This plain is laid
out in open fields, and lacks trees except round the numerous villages.
The surrounding hills too are comparatively bare, and their summits are
to-day obscured by the low-lying clouds.
JULY 24th.--A hot and uncomfortable walk of twelve miles on the exposed
and uninteresting road to Sopoor. There were but few trees to afford any
shade, but there were mulberries bearing ripe fruit, under which you
know it is impossible to sit down. From Sopoor to Alsoo (sixteen miles)
by boat, slowly driving all day through the tangled weeds and water
lilies. At Soopoor I waited for my boy to get what he wanted for my
breakfast (which he would prepare on board) and while waiting, a
procession of natives came with bells and flags, and something
surrounded by curtains and carried under a canopy, but I could not see
what it was. It was being fanned vigorously by several men and was no
doubt very holy. A large number of men (Mahometans) followed, shouting
loudly when the bells were rung, and some of them chanted a slow but not
unpleasing melody. They were praying for rain which is rare in this
country, and which is now required for the crops. My boy returned
bringing with him to my joy a fore quarter of mutton. Stopped at
Shukuroodeen for the evening, the wind being too strong to proceed.
Those flat bottomed boats with their large heavy awnings are very
cranky.
JULY 25th.--Started early for Alsoo. Found my old boat where I had left
it, but brought my baggage on board of this one, which I mean to keep
to, as the boatman is a much more useful fellow than the other man. He
acts as a servant, knows all the places I am going to, including
Ummernath, and has many excellent characters from those who have
employed him. There was such a scene when my intentions were made known
to the other crew, at first with tears and folded hands they
supplicated, but when that proved useless they took to cursing and
gesticulating, which they continued as their boat moved away and so long
as they were within hearing, screaming across the water, making faces,
and shaking their fists aloft; the old man was especially violent, it
was very laughable. My present crew consists of the man I have
mentioned, three good looking young woman, one of whom has the hooping
cough, and a variety of children I have not yet made out the different
relations to each other. There was lightning and some heavy rain last
night (the result no doubt of yesterday's ceremony) and the sky is still
gloomy and overcast. On from Alsoo after Chota Hazree or first breakfast
to Lunka, a small island, which is only fifty yards square, is thickly
covered with pine trees, with trailing grape vines clinging around their
boughs, on it stands an old ruin, and fallen pillars and carved stones
litter the ground. From a distance it looked very lovely, floating as
it were on the bosom of the open waters, but as we neared it an
unpleasant odour became perceptible, rapidly increasing to a horrid
stench. This proceeded from a colony of natives who were in temporary
habitation of the island, and were engaged in catching and drying the
fish with which the lake abounds. I landed however, but was soon forced
to beat a rapid retreat. Such a mass of all kinds of filth crowded in so
small a space, I have never before witnessed. Man is ever the plague
spot of the world, where he is not, all is peace, and beauty, with his
presence comes contamination and discord. Saw many a whistling seal in
one part of the lake. The water soon became contracted into a narrow
channel, with a low bank on either side, after travelling a few miles
more we reached the broad Jhelum above its entrance into the lake.
Remained for the night at Hajun.
JULY 26th, Sunday.--Moved on in the morning to Manusbul, a small lake
connected with the river by a canal. This lake is about three miles long
and one mile wide, it is very deep in the middle, and said by the
natives to be unfathomable. In one of the Hindoo Legends we are told a
story of a holy man who spent all his life endeavouring to make a rope
long enough to reach to the bottom, and failing, at length threw
himself in and was never seen again. My boatman to give me an idea of
its depth, dropped in white pebbles which could be seen for a long time
sinking in the clear green water, until they gradually disappeared from
sight. I longed to take a plunge into the cool fluid, and Ungoo
evidently read my wish in my looks, for he proposed that I should gussul
or bathe. The presence of three women however proved too much for my
modesty, and I refrained, although I have no doubt that had I not done
so their feelings would not have been in the least outraged. Very
handsome water lilies (lotus) on the surface of the lake, the flowers
being of a delicate pink colour with a yellow centre, and as large as
the crown of a man's hat. At the further extremity, a high hill rises
from the edge of the water. A stream is artificially conducted along its
face at a height of about fifty feet, and the surplus water escapes in
several pretty little cascades, by the side of one of them grow some
noble chenars. The bottom of the lake around the edges is very uneven,
and covered with a dense growth of mynophillum spicatum, on which
planorbus and other molluces graze and tiny fry pick their invisible
atoms of food. The elegant shape of this plant with its branching and
finely cut leaves, and the inequalities of the ground remind me of the
pine-clad hills in miniature. A brilliant king-fisher took the gunwale
of the boat as the "base of his operations," and I amused myself all the
morning, by watching him catch fish; when one approached the surface he
descended with a splash which I imagined would have driven every fish
far away, emerging quickly and very seldom without a capture, which he
turned head downwards and swallowed alive and whole, then looked round
with a laughable air of self-satisfaction. When the fish was a size too
large to be trifled with, he first polished it off by rapping its head
on the boards. It is now sunset, and that bird is still feeding, and
probably the day will end without deciding whether his appetite or his
capacity is the larger. A native brought me a dish of excellent
apricots and mulberries--the mulberries especially good, and my garden
is celebrated for the best peaches in Kashmir.
JULY 27th.--Up the Jhelum again, past Sumbul with its deodar bridge
(similar to the others described with this exception, that the footway
appears to be built in imitation of the roof of a house sloping on
either side from a high central ridge, not the best form of bridge I
have seen, but variety is charming) to the entrance of the Scind river,
where a chenar stands in the middle of the stream, protected by a square
block of masonry. Tradition says this tree never grows. Near it is a
small island over grown with trees. Here we left the Jhelum and pursued
the course of the Scind which soon contracted into a narrow and rapidly
flowing river, its water derived from the snows, being very cold. It was
slow work rowing against the strong current, but we presently emerged
into a great lake entirely covered with high rushes except where a
winding channel was cut for the boats, and here progression was slower
still as the rope had to be abandoned, and the pole called into
requisition, so that it was nearly dark when we reached Ganderbul.
Passed a number of men wading in the water up to their necks, and
spearing the ground with poles armed with a single barbed spike.
Although this seems an insane way of attempting to catch fish, their
boat was well laden with a small species of trout, and I saw several
drawn from the water impaled and wriggling upon the sharp point.
Sreenuggur seen in the distance at the extremity of a mountainous spur,
with the Fort and Soloman's Throne, standing upon two elevated rocks.
Within a few miles of Ganderbul the lake became clear, and presented a
fine expanse of water, but with so many shallows, that our course was
very tortuous. Having travelled twenty miles, we are now only five miles
from Manusbul. Ganderbul stands at the opening of the Scind valley, but
it was too late to take any observations when I arrived; so I must wait
until my return.
JULY 28th.--A march of nine miles up the valley to Kungan, taking with
me as before only four coolie loads of baggage; my boatman accompanies
me. Met Scott, of the 88th, three or four miles from Ganderbul, the
first European I have seen since the 12th. This is a narrow and
beautiful valley, down which the Scind river rushes foaming and roaring.
Its waters are icy cold and its colour also seems to partake of its
snowy origin, for it is white, not only with foam, but the water itself
in small quantities is as though it had come out of a milky jug. Grand
hills stand on either side, and up the valley I occasionally got
glimpses of high and rugged snow peaks. Several natives came to me with
different ailments, I gave them rough directions whereby to benefit, but
what they wanted was a gift of medicine (of which I have none.) They
fancy every Englishman is an adept in the art of healing, and that
English physic especially Tyrnhill's Pills, possesses magical powers.
JULY 29th.--To Toomoo, six miles, a shorter march than I intended, for
they told me at Kungan that Toomoo was twelve miles distant. However,
when I arrived, the temptation to stop was too strong to be resisted. In
marching one gets very weary about the sixth or seventh mile, but this
passes off, and you can then go on comfortably for almost any distance,
provided you resist the first feelings of fatigue, and do not give way
to it, as I have done to-day. The mountains are now huge towering
masses, rising thousands of feet above the valley; they have lost all
smoothness of outline, and their upper portions are bare and rough,
cragged, and pine clad. Instead of having merely whitened peaks, snow
fields extend down the sides. The scene is one of wild majestic
grandeur. What tremendous agonies in past ages must have been employed
to produce such vast upheavals. One cannot help contemplating with awe
the possibility of the world again becoming violently rent and shaken
to its foundations by the forces which though now comparatively inert,
still exist beneath us and occasionally give sad proof of their
undiminished power. In the present day the slow but continued action of
this subterranean power is in some parts perceptible (as in South
America) and we have no guarantee that it may not suddenly acquire
increased energy, and overwhelm our fairest lands with a run too
terrible to be imagined. Stinging nettles abound here, of the tall sort
that grow so rankly on old earth heaps and in dry ditches. I placed my
hand among them, delighted to be stung again by English friends; the
sensation is so far preferable to mosquito bites. Besides it took me
back to "childhood's happy hours," when with bramble torn breeches and
urticarious shin, I forced the hedges, apple stealing--I have stolen
apples to-day for a tart which is now baking--robbed the trees of them
for they are no man's property. Just above here on the other side of the
valley is a very perfect crater (of course extinct) for there are now no
volcanoes in the Himalayas. Its lips are rugged and serrated like the
teeth of a saw, and form a very perfect circle I cannot tell the depth
of the basin, but on the further side I can see that the edge rises
perpendicularly to a considerable height, and at the bottom of it I just
got a glimpse of a steeply sloping floor. On its exterior are deep
grooves containing strong blocks, which at this distance appear to show
by contrast of colour their igneous origin, but I cannot speak
positively on this point. My Bheistie to whom I gave three days leave to
visit his family, came in saying he had walked one hundred miles. He
does not look any the worse for it.
JULY 30th.--Another short march of five miles to Soorapra, a small
village around which stand several enormous hills, half obscured by
clouds, for it is a thoroughly wet day, drizzling rain having fallen
ever since my arrival. It is very cool and pleasant, but I have got up
too far and am now in the rainy region, so to-morrow I shall retrace my
steps, three or four marches would take me over the Himalayas into
Ladâk. This would be an interesting trip, but there still remains much
for me to see in Kashmir, and I have not time to do both. Passed
another, but smaller and less perfect crater. Some natives brought a
young black bear, which they had just caught to show me. It was no
larger than a good-sized dog, but had very long sharp claws; its
expression was anything but ferocious. A dense pine and walnut forest
extends down one of the hills to the verge of the village. I was
strolling in that direction, not a hundred yards from the huts--before
the arrival of my baggage--when two men ran after me and begged me to
come back on account of the number of tigers there. I imagined they
meant leopards, but on making enquiries I find cows are carried away,
which could not be done by leopards. This would be a good ground for the
sportsman, but no Europeans come here as it is off the regular track up
the valley. I crossed the river this morning by a ricketty bridge built
of a couple of firs, on which logs were loosely laid, leaving the main
road which runs along the other or right bank. Just behind my tent a
stream of deliciously cold and transparent water issues from the hill
side; a rough sort of shed is erected over it, and the water is
conducted a short distance in a wooden trough, from the end of which it
falls to the ground. It is the custom in Kashmir to build over the
springs and esteem them holy. No mosquitoes up here, delightful prospect
of a good night's rest.
JULY 31st.--Back to Kungan in one march, but did not encamp on the same
ground as before, as I found a better place by the side of the river. I
have been thinking all the morning about my future career, whether I
shall obtain the appointment in the Guards that I have applied for, (my
application has by this time reached England) if not, what will they do
with me when I get home, or shall I remain in the army? These questions
have been running in my head and occasionally a more delicate one
obtruded. Shall I marry, and if so, when and whom, and here, where all
my thoughts are revealed, I must needs confess that now at twenty-nine
years of age, I begin to weary of single blessedness, and long for a
fair, loving, and loveable companion. Now my gentle lady reader, here is
a chance for you, if you are content with honest love without adoration,
faithfulness without romance; for my romantic days have passed. I have
learnt the sober realities of life, and among them the truth of God's
declaration that it is not good for man to be alone. The _Saturday
Review_ in recent articles, "The Girl of the Period, &c.," holds out a
poor prospect for the would be benedict, and I fear there is much truth
in the assertion that the majority of our young women are husband
hunting, that they make matrimony their one great object, and will
condescend to any means whereby to attain the personal independance
given them by that position, that these marriages without love, only
prompted by selfish considerations, are followed by a total neglect of
all wifely duties--nay more, that even maternal care and tenderness have
nearly ceased to exist. It is a sad picture, and sternly drawn. The
well-known power of the paper is put forth in its highest degree, and
withering sarcasm, and bitter contempt accompany its stern reproofs.
Yet there is a final wail of despair at the unlikelihood of any change
for good being effected. This evil like most others is of our own
making. We men no longer marry while young, but when middle-aged or with
grey hairs beginning to show, a man desires a wife, he will most likely
choose one five and twenty years his junior. The girl often marry thus
because she cannot get a husband of her own age, and a very few years
lost will doom her to perpetual spinsterhood. It is necessarily a
marriage without love, a lucky one if there be respect. Girls have
learnt that it is useless to bestow their affections where nature would
have them, and and it is scarcely a matter for surprise that they
should in consequence endeavour to repress them altogether. Moral for my
own use. Marry while I am young, or not at all.
AUGUST 1st.--To Wangut nine miles rough and hilly walking. I lost the
path once, and had a long scramble before I regained it. Though not a
pleasant march the scenery is very fine and picturesque. Wangut lies up
a short and contracted valley, an offshoot of the Scind which is a much
larger one, and the mountains around it are very grand especially at the
head of the valley, I put up large coveys of grey partridge on the road.
I have come here for the purpose of visiting some mines two miles
further on, and I intend to halt to-morrow and walk to see them. There
is a great row going on while I write this, the natives appear unwilling
to furnish supplies (milk, eggs, &c.,) and my boatman who has
accompanied me is applying his stick freely by way of persuasion. There
is of course a Babel of tongues and I sit within a few yards, quietly
ignoring the proceeding, though if necessary, I shall get up and add
some lusty whacks as my share of the argument. A mountain torrent--a
tributary of the Scind runs down the valley with the usual noise and
hurly burly. A travelling native carpenter is here, and all the village
are bringing their ploughs to be mended, he is very clever with his
hoe-shaped hatchet fashioning the hard walnut wood so correctly with it,
that the chisel is hardly necessary for the few finishing touches. I
have seen him make some wooden ladles very rapidly, and he has provided
me with a new set of tent pegs and mallet and a wooden roller, by means
of which I hope to avoid the digital process in the manufacture of my
chepatties.
AUGUST 2nd, Sunday.--Sitting having my feet washed by a servant
(delightful sensation) after my return from the ruin of Rajdainbul and
Nagbul. I meditate on the mutability of all things human. I have taken a
walk before breakfast this Sabbath morning to witness the overthrow of
former magnificence and the destruction of man's crafty handiwork. These
two temples erected many long years ago in honour of a Hindoo Deity
named Naranay, now stand desolate piles in the dense jungle. Fallen
stones cover the ground and great trees grow from the interstices of
those that still hold together and retain a semblance of their original
shape. Confusion reigns supreme and the place that was once the scene of
mistaken worship, is now only the haunt of the wild beast and deadly
reptile. The thoughts which such a sight suggest, have been the theme of
many a moralist, but the great lesson it teaches cannot lose any of its
importance by repetition. Yet a consideration of the littleness of man
and the utter vanity of his proudest works is, I fear, distasteful to
most of us; we cannot bear to be forced to admit our own insignificance.
We go to church and cry "what is man that Thou art mindful of him," but
the words are but empty sounds. Our preachers may tell us that life is
but a shadow, but they speak to unwilling and heedless ears, and we go
on ignoring the fact, crying peace, and stifling our conscience by a
form of religion without godliness. We are arrogant, high-minded, puffed
up in our own conceit, and though there are many that would wish to be
considered holy, how few there are that are humble men of heart, and
time continues to repeat the old, old story, filling our grave-yards,
destroying our works; creation alone remaining stable, waiting for the
end. These ruins are small in size, and their architecture rude, though
the individual blocks are certainly large and well though not
elaborately carved. But they produce a strange impression of awe by the
dreary solitude and wildness of their position which is perhaps peculiar
to themselves, although they lack both the fairy elegance of Netley
Abbey, and the massive grandeur of a Pevensey Castle. The men who
accompanied me advanced very cautiously through the thick underwood,
beating with their sticks in order to drive away the Iguana Lizards,
which they call the "bis cobra" and hold in deadly fear, believing its
bite to be most surely fatal. This belief is universal among the natives
of India, but there is no proof of its truth, and I need hardly say that
the dental arrangement of Bactrachian reptiles is incompatible with the
possession of poisonous qualities. But though science will not admit it,
it is strange that the idea is so widely spread, especially as the
natives do not fear any other species of lizard, while they believe that
every snake is armed with the fatal fang.
AUGUST 3rd.--Heavy rain prevented my departure from Wangut, at the usual
early hour, but about 9 o'clock it cleared up, and I marched on Arric
eight miles distant down a path on the right bank of the river, (I
ascended the valley on the other side.) The rain has made it very
slippery, and it was a fatiguing walk the road not being good, and
occasionally dangerous; one part fairly beat me, I was expected to pass
round a smooth rock by means of several ledges one inch wide and four or
five long, cut on its surface. The precipice below was deep, and when I
had taken one step, and found myself hanging over it; I determined to go
back and try another way. The other way is bad enough, but all I object
to is having my safety depending upon a single foothold. I like to have
at least one chance of recovering myself if I slip. My walnut tree
to-day is covered with mistletoe and my mind is directed to Christmas
time, and all its (to us) sad associations. Three Christmases have I
spent away from England, and a fourth is now approaching, one of them on
the ocean, and two in the tented field, the next will I fancy also find
me under canvass, but I trust on my way homewards. Westward Ho! is my
cry; let the gorgeous East with its money bags, its luxuries, and its
many hours of idleness, remain for those who are content to exchange
home-ties and the enjoyment of life for dreary exile and too often
untimely death, who will sell their minds and bodies for the price of
rupees.