CHAPTER LIV.

Benares, Monday, Feb. 17, 1840.

I sent off my last letter from Allahabad, and it is almost hard upon you

to begin again; it must be such dull reading just now. Our Allahabad

ball was what they considered brilliant, seeing that it brought out

their whole female society except two, who were very ill, and there were

four dancing ladies and four sitters-by.

They were kind enough to give us supper early, where I can always

console myself with mulligatawny soup (I think it so good--don't you?),

and then F. and I came off to our separate budgerows. G. is in a great

state of popularity in the Upper Provinces; all these people talked of

him with such regard and admiration, and he had evidently exerted

himself to talk very much during the four days he passed here, without

the least idea, poor innocent man! how everything he said, was to be

repeated. I heard from him near Burdwan; they are out of carriage roads,

but he still likes the palanquin, and slept very well. He and A. took a

long walk in the morning while Mars cleared up the palanquins for the

day, and then another in the evening while he made them up for the

night. They have lived on their cold provisions and seltzer-water and

tea, and slept as much as they could. They passed through a jungle where

a man had been killed by a tiger some time ago, so the bearers thought

it necessary to make a great noise, and fire matchlocks constantly, and

make a boy walk before, playing on a fife. G. says, they may have saved

his life, but they spoiled his night.

Our budgerows were very comfortable, but somehow I was just as sea-sick

as if mine were the Jupiter. We got down to the flat by three o'clock on

Saturday afternoon, and found O. Giles had arranged everything very

comfortably. We have sent for letters.

Ghazeepore, Feb. 18.

We got no letters, but Captain F., who had been waiting a day and a half

to see us, came on board with some newspapers and two very pretty

sandal-wood boxes he has had made for us. He looks very happy, and G.,

who stayed at his house on the way down, was quite delighted with his

look of comfort, and the way in which his house was fitted up. A retired

aide-de-camp always carries off very _genteel_ notions of setting up

house. We have seen it in several instances.

G. has had a _levée_, and begun his little dinners, and was received

very brilliantly at Calcutta.

We stuck on a sand-bank to-day for seven hours, or rather our steamer

did, and we left her, and floated independently down in the flat to a

safe place, till she could pick us up. We suppose the other steamer is

sticking in the same place, as she has not come up to-night.

Wednesday, Feb. 19.

A jewel of a man in a small boat came floating up with a yellow dâk

packet in his hand, which he put on board--two letters from G. and W. O.

The wind is so high, it blew us on another bank to-day, and upset all

the furniture. It was just like being at sea, and the river is so full

of sand-banks, we have anchored till the wind goes down. I wish it would

only mind what it is about, for it is uncommonly cool and pleasant, if

it would only be a thought less violent.

Friday, Feb. 21.

Nothing of the other steamer. The 'Duke of Buccleuch' has been lost off

the sand-banks, the passengers all saved, but I expect my box of

clothes, which was to come this month, was in her. She has generally

brought boxes for us. We were aground again for three hours to-day, and

the Hindus all went on shore to cook their dinners; but the wind was so

high they could not make the fire burn, and the captain called them back

just as their dinners were half-cooked. It makes them wretched, poor

people! A Hindu will only cook once in twenty-four hours, and then, if

any accident happens, if a dog, or a Christian touches their food, or

even passes too near it, they throw it all away and go without. Our

Hindus would not try to cook again to-night when we came to anchor, and

they may not eat in a boat.

Saturday, Feb. 22.

We stopped at Monghyr to-day for coals. We found plenty of letters

there. G. says it will be quite necessary for W. O. to go to China; but

there will be nothing for the troops to do, so that he may return in

four months, and will just escape the hot season. My poor box _is_ at

the bottom of the sea. Cockerell and Co. have signified as much to G.,

and they think there was also a box for F. I particularly grudge the

gown Lady G. worked for me. I was wishing to see it so much. It is an

inconvenient loss, for if we arrive on Saturday, as we expect, I shall

have no bonnet to go to church in on Sunday, and I have been embittering

my loss by reading over M. E.'s list of pretty things. However, if one

is to have a loss, a box of clothes is the most reparable, and I must

try to fit myself out at Calcutta for the rest of the time we are in

India. This shipwreck will be my 'Caleb Balderstone's' great fire; much

shabbiness may be excused thereby. The second steamer came in just as we

left Monghyr, but not in time for us to speak to any of them.

Wednesday, Feb. 26.

We have gone on, sometimes sticking on a bank for an hour, sometimes not

able to make the post town we wished to arrive at, but we generally make

seventy, or eighty miles a day, very satisfactorily, and have almost

always picked up a letter from G. or W. Last night we exerted ourselves

amazingly, stuck up sails, went on in the dark, tried to sit as lightly

and as pleasantly as possible on the water, in hopes of arriving at

Commercolly, where we counted on finding the overland letters. We

succeeded in reaching Commercolly, and there found the dâk baboo with

two Calcutta newspapers for us, and not a line for anybody. Now we have

left the short cut to Calcutta, there is so little water, and are going

round by the Sunderbunds, where we shall see nothing but trees and

jungle for four days; the fifth I hope we shall arrive at Calcutta. It

is becoming so hot.

Cuhia.

This is a collection of native huts, where there is a deposit of coals,

but there was also a dear native baboo who stepped out with a parcel of

letters, one from G., saying that the December overland had arrived, but

as he did not think there was any chance of the letters finding us, he

had only sent one or two; and he mentioned any little news he had

collected.

He was quite right in his principle, but as the letters have found us,

what a pity he did not send your packet, which he mentions.

It is a horrid thing; a great liberty; but G., in his Grand Mogul way,

opens all our letters, and is evidently revelling in yours and the

girls' journals. Indeed, he says so; and adds he is so hurried and

worried he had not time to find the journals. Such impertinence!

Barackpore, Friday, March 13.

There! this is not a journal this tune; it must turn into a letter, for

I have had no time. We arrived at Calcutta late in the evening of

Sunday, the 1st March. We ran down a native boat in the dark, and got a

great fright from the screaming of the men, who were however all picked

up immediately, and natives, one and all, can swim for two or three

hours without fear.

We found W. O. in his dressing-gown, and G. in bed; however, he got up

and came to us; he complains of being very much over-worked, and of

being over-bitten by the musquitoes. They are dreadful; still there is

something in the cleanliness and _solidity_ of the house, and in its

space, that looks very attractive after the tents and boats. It is lucky

we have had that march as a set-off, otherwise the change from Simla

would be too shocking.

Do not you remember the story my father used to tell us, when we were

children, of how his friend the old Duke of Marlborough went to dine

with a neighbour, a poor clergyman, whose house was small, whose fires

were low, and whose dinner was bad, and when the Duke drove back to

Blenheim and entered that magnificent hall, he said with a plaintive

sigh, 'Well! home is home, be it never so homely.' So say I, on coming

back to this grand palace, from those wretched tents, and so shall I

repeat with still greater unction when we arrive at our dear little

villa at Kensington Gore. If it should please God that we ever do so,

mind that you and your girls are on the lawn to greet us.

PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE, LONDON.

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Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

has a levee in the morning=> has a levée in the morning {pg 15}

shawls are not fine shaws=> shawls are not fine shawls {pg 134}

with repating=> with repeating {pg 369}

'Up the Country': Letters Written to Her Sister from the Upper Provinces of India · 第 54 / 54 章