Saharunpore, Sunday, March 11, 1838.
This is a small station, only two ladies, one of whom is Miss T.; she
came out last year to join a brother here, who is quite delighted to
have her, and she seems very contented with her quiet life; but
everybody is contented with their stations at the foot of the hills.
They stay the cold season here, and go in twelve hours up to Mussoorie,
where most of them have their regular established homes, so they escape
all hot weather. Miss T. and her brother and the other Saharunpore
gentlemen came out to meet us, and G. and I stopped at Captain C.'s to
see an immense collection of fossils, all proving that our elephants of
the present day were 'little Chances' of the olden time. G. had a
durbar, and in the afternoon we went to the Botanical Gardens, which are
very shady and nice; and we sent the band there, as the Saharunporites
do not often hear music. It is a pretty little station.
Kerni, March 15.
G. has been out tiger-hunting from the two last stations. They never had
a glimpse of a tiger, though here and there they saw the footprints of
one. One of the days the thermometer was at 90° in our tents, but G.
stayed out the whole day, and said he did not feel the heat.
Mussoorie, Sunday, March 18.
On Thursday evening we went on to Deyrah, too late to see anything, but
Friday morning the beauty of the Himalayas burst upon us. We were
encamped just under the mountains--too much under them to see the snowy
range, but still nothing could be more beautiful than the first view of
the range, and no wonder one hates plains. Colonel Y. had us out early
in the morning to see his little Ghoorka regiment manoeuvre. Most of
the men are about five feet six, with little hands and feet in
proportion. All the mountaineers are very small creatures, but they make
excellent little soldiers; and the Ghoorkas beat our troops at this spot
twenty-five years ago, and killed almost all the officers sent against
them. Now they are our subjects they fight equally well for us, and were
heard to say at Bhurtpore that they really thought some of our soldiers
were nearly equal to themselves. They look like little black dolls. They
are quite unlike natives. There is a regular fool attached to the
regiment, who had stuck a quantity of wild flowers in his helmet, and
came up and saluted G. with a large drawn sword in a most ridiculous
manner. After that we went to see a Sikh temple, where there was a great
festival, and about a hundred fakeers, the most horrid-looking monsters
it is possible to see. They never wear any clothes, but powder
themselves all over with white or yellow powder, and put red streaks
over their faces. They look like the raw material of so many Grimaldis.
At eleven, the two ladies and five gentlemen of the station came to
visit us; and at four, G. and I set off, under Colonel Y.'s auspices, to
see a cavern that has just been discovered about four miles from this,
and which was found out in a very odd way. One of the soldiers had
murdered his havildar out of jealousy, and escaped, and was taken, after
a fortnight's search, in this cave, nearly starved to death. It is just
the place where Balfour of Burley would have hid himself. I have not
enjoyed a drive so much for ages, and it was through such a beautiful
country--such hills and valleys! I wish we might settle at Deyrah for
the rest of the term of our transportation. One of the worst parts of
this journey is that we never can go even two yards from the camp
without an officer with G. on account of the petitioners. When we got
near the cave we found Colonel Y., Dr. G., and Captain M. at the
entrance of a dark grotto, through which a stream was running. 'Nothing
to walk through,' Colonel Y. said, 'not more than two feet deep, or two
feet and a half at most,' and so in they all went; but my bearers
luckily declared they could carry the tonjaun through, and they
contrived it, though sometimes one tumbled down, and then another, and I
had once to sit at the bottom of it to prevent my head being knocked off
by the rocks. It was a beautiful cavern about 500 yards long, and at the
other end there was a tent, where G. and Colonel Y. had wisely
established dry clothes, but the others who had not taken this
precaution were glad to gallop home as fast as they could.
Yesterday we started at half-past five in the carriage, came five miles
to the foot of the hills; then the gentlemen got on the ponies, and F.
and I into our jonpauns, which might just as well be called
tonjauns--they are the same sort of conveyances, only they swing about
more, and look like coffins. The mountaineers run up the hills with them
in a wonderful manner. We were two hours going up precipices which, as
Vivian Grey says, 'were completely perpendicular, but with perhaps a
slight incline inwards at the bottom,' and then we reached Colonel G.'s
bungalow at Mussoorie. Such a view on all sides of it! Nothing could be
grander--good fires burning--and a nice sharp wind blowing. Pleasant!
We found our Bengalee servants, who had come on the day before, very
miserable. They had slept in the open air and were starved with the
cold, and were so afraid of the precipices that they could not even go
to the bazaar to buy food. I dare say to people who have never even seen
the smallest rise in the ground, not even a molehill, these mountains
must be very terrific.
While she was dressing me, Rosina was mimicking F.'s jemadar, who is in
a particular state of fear. 'There was poor Ariff, he buy great stick,
and he put stick out so, and then he put his foot by it, and then he
say, "Oh! what me do next, me tumble if me move me stick or me foot."' I
thought we should have been alarmed by what Miss T. said of her fears,
but we went out on our ponies in the evening and cantered along the
paths quite easily, though it is ugly looking down. One stumble, and
horse and all must roll down out of sight. But, to be sure, how
beautiful the hills are! I am certain I shall grow strong again in a
week at Simla, and as for ever being well in the plains, that is an
evident impossibility, so far as I am concerned.
Mussoorie, Monday, March 19.
We went to the little Mussoorie church yesterday morning. The bearers
are steady men, I have no doubt, but still I wish they would not race
with each other; for at the sharp corners where they try to pass, the
outer jonpaun hangs over the edge, and I don't altogether like it. In
the afternoon we took a beautiful ride up to Landour, but the paths are
much narrower on that side, and our courage somehow oozed out; and first
we came to a place where they said, 'This was where poor Major Blundell
and his pony fell over, and they were both dashed to atoms,'--and then
there was a board stuck in a tree, 'From this spot a private in the
Cameronians fell and was killed.' Just as if there were any use in
adding that he was killed, if he fell--anybody might have guessed that.
Then ----, who lived up here for three years, said he would take us home
by a better path, and unluckily it was a worse one, and we had to get
off our ponies and lead them, and altogether I felt giddy and thought
much of poor Major Blundell! But it is impossible to imagine more
beautiful scenery. This morning we went to breakfast with Colonel M. and
saw the whole extent of the snowy range, and very fine it is. It is a
clever old range to have kept itself so clean and white for 5,000 years.
As we came back we met Mars, who is quite happy here, with Ariff after
him. I asked him what he was doing. 'Je veux absolument faire monter ce
pauvre Ariff là haut.'--'Do you like going, Ariff?' I said.--'No,
ladyship.'--'Don't you think the hills very beautiful?'--'No, ladyship,
very shocking;' and he made a face of such utter nausea it was
impossible to help laughing. Mars said afterwards that Ariff flung
himself on the ground and declared nothing should induce him to take
another step. My jemadar in consequence was particularly puffed up about
it, though I believe he disliked his walk quite as much. 'I been to the
Hospital, been to Macdonald Sahib, been everywhere where ladyship has
been. Poor Ariff, he fear much!' and he walked out with a smile of
self-complacency at his superior courage.
Rajpore, Wednesday, March 21.
We came down from Mussoorie Monday afternoon with great success, but the
change in an hour from cold to heat made us all deaf to begin with, and
half the servants were sick, and in the middle of the night I took one
of my attacks of spasms. I always think Dr. D. in his heart must wish
that they would begin twelve hours sooner. He always has to get up at
one in the morning, and the spasm lasted till past three--such an
inconvenient time when we have to march at half-past five. I really
thought this time I should not have been able to go on, but somehow it
always can be done when it cannot be helped; and as all the tents were
ready at the next station, I went for the first time in a palanquin--it
saves the trouble of dressing, and I just moved from the bed into it. G.
went out shooting again this morning on positive information of a
tigress and three cubs, but as usual they could not be found. However,
they have had some very good shooting.
Thursday, March 22.
We had a great deal of rain last night; and so when we came to cross the
Jumna this morning it was not fordable, and there never was such a
mess--only three boats for all our camp. Two poor men were drowned in
the night trying to swim over, and one or two camels were carried away,
but found again. Then the road was so bad the carriage was not
available, and I came part of the way on the elephant, which, as I was
not strong, shook me to atoms. We crossed at last, and then it appeared
that everything had been drenched in the night, and there was not a bed
nor a sofa to lie down on. Luckily, Rosina lent me her charpoy, a sort
of native couch, and Dr. D. got a medicine chest, and gave me some
laudanum, and now I am better again; but of all the troubles in life for
'an ailing body,' I think a march the most complete. It is a pouring
day, but luckily very cool. Chance has been very ill for the last week,
and I have made him over to-day to the surgeon of the body-guard, who
has bled him, and says he can cure him.
Friday, March 23.
We must luckily halt here three days, for half the people and things are
still on the other bank. I am better to-day, and Chance is in a more
hopeful state. As you will hear from us several times by the overland
packet before this comes to hand, I may as well send this off without
coming to the interesting crisis of Chance's fate; but as the
inflammation in his dear little chest is supposed to be subdued, you may
feel tolerably easy. I, as usual, wind up with the observation that your
last letter was dated August 5--seven months and three weeks old.