I have no more pieces of naughtiness to relate, for at the time this
story begins ten years had passed, and I had returned to Jamaica a tall
young lady of sixteen. Jessie was, as you may remember, nearly two years
younger; she had certainly grown taller, but was still only a little
creature, with large dark eyes, which had a most beseeching look in
them, as if she was asking everybody to take care of her. I have never
seen anyone with such beautiful hair: it was dark brown, and in such
quantity, that when she was sitting on an ordinary chair to have it
brushed, it touched the ground. She was always singing, just like a
bird; and it used to be a great puzzle to me how she could possibly
remember the words of all her songs. Jessie and I had one very decided
taste in common, and that was our great love of pets of all kinds,
especially of birds. Whilst we lived in England we never could
sufficiently indulge this hobby, for the schoolroom maid rebelled
against taking care of more than one cage of canaries, so we were
obliged to be satisfied with that; but when we returned to our beautiful
summer home in the mountains of Jamaica, we collected a little
zoological garden around us in a few months, and it is about these pets
I am now going to tell you.
I am sure you will like me to begin, as always, at the very beginning,
so I shall first mention that, as soon as we were all settled in our
mountain cottage, Jessie and I begged Mamma to allow our rooms to be
changed to the only two which were downstairs. In hot countries the
sleeping rooms are always upstairs, partly to be cooler, and partly to
avoid the risk of venomous insects; but there was no danger of heat
where our little summer home was built, for the nights were always cold
enough to allow us to use a blanket; and as for the scorpions,
centipedes, ants, &c., we thought we could protect ourselves against
them. We had discovered two charming little rooms side by side,
downstairs, opening with French windows on a verandah, the pillars of
which were covered with beautiful creepers: from this verandah you
stepped on a lawn sheltered from the sun by a grove of orange and mango
trees, towards the south-east, and beyond that lay the garden, which
sloped down to a long valley, divided into paddocks of the tall, bright
green Guinea grass (so called because the seed was brought from Guinea,
on the coast of Africa), of which the cows and horses were so fond.
The chief reason Jessie and I begged for these rooms was, that the
verandah and the adjoining trees would be so nice for all our pets, and
after some hesitation and a great many warnings, against snakes,
scorpions, and other insects, Mamma at last consented to allow us to
change; so for a few days we were happy, and busy moving all our absurd
little possessions down to their new quarters, which had hitherto only
been used by gentlemen visitors, and were generally called the ‘Bachelor
rooms.’ It took us some time to arrange our pictures, books, and
ornaments to our own satisfaction; and dear Mamma was often called upon
to give her opinion on our devices.
But the very first thing to be attended to was the comfort of the pets,
and they certainly must have approved of the change. The parrots at once
established themselves in a large tree, and we watched them with great
delight clambering about its branches, nibbling at the fruit, and
chattering incessantly. They were nine in number, and had been brought
to us at different times in the nest some months before, when their
beaks were quite soft, and we had to feed them on boiled rice and sugar.
Nothing could be tamer than these birds were; when we sat down in our
rocking chairs in the verandah, they used to scramble and flutter out of
their tree, and come waddling towards us in a great hurry with their
toes turned in, clambering up the arms of the chairs in the hope of
getting a piece of sugar cane. I am sorry to say, however, that not one
of our parrots could speak at all well; they whistled and chattered
incessantly in their own way, but it was very difficult to teach them
even a word or two, and their voices were thick and husky. It required a
great many lessons before the cleverest of them could learn so much as a
bar of one of Jessie’s songs; and when he began to practise, all the
other birds had a most insulting way of stopping their own chatter to
listen to his ‘tra-la-la,’ and going off into peals of laughter, mingled
with the negro exclamations of ‘Hi hi,’ or ‘My king!’ This conduct
affronted Master Bully—that was his name, bestowed on account of his
tyrannical and greedy nature—very much, and he always ceased the song
directly the laughter began, and sat sulkily ruffling up his feathers.
They were all of the same kind, these parrots; rather small, of a blight
emerald-green colour, with a few red and blue wing feathers, and a gay
yellow top-knot; their beaks were quite black, and so were their
tongues. Their wings were cut to keep them from joining the flocks of
wild parrots which constantly flew overhead. Their greatest enemies were
the owls, who used to swoop upon the poor sleeping Polly and carry it
off at night; we lost two in this way before we discovered the cause,
but then we taught them to go to roost every evening in a large wooden
cage under shelter of the verandah, the door of which was securely
fastened, and our noisy pets lived to a good old age. It is the custom
in Jamaica to have a cup of coffee brought to your bedside every morning
at six o’clock, and as soon as our black maid ‘Rosetta’ had awakened us,
she used to open the French windows into the verandah, unfasten the door
of the parrots’ cage, and place a saucer of bread and milk on the
threshold where we could see it. In a moment all the parrots were round
it chattering and gobbling it up; Bully had a bad habit of getting
_into_ the saucer and trampling the food into a mess, so Jessie and I
were obliged to take it by turns to get up and drive him away and see
fair play. As soon as they had finished their breakfast, they set off as
fast as they could waddle to an enormous shallow pan of water, which was
sunk to the level of the ground and filled twice a day with fresh water.
It was such fun to watch them splashing and dashing the water over each
other, enjoying their bath thoroughly; then they betook themselves to
the shelter of the trees, and there dried and pruned their feathers,
spending the remainder of their time in eating fruit and clambering
about. In the middle of the day they generally took a nap, and the quiet
which reigned during that time was most remarkable.
We had also a cage full of love-birds, a sort of paroquet which comes
from Carthagena in South America; but though these pretty little things
were very affectionate to each other and to us, I must confess they were
rather stupid pets. They sat close together in pairs all day long,
occasionally uttering a little chirrup and caressing each other with
their tiny bills; but they either had very delicate constitutions, or
else they were very greedy, for they all died one after another from
fits caused by over-eating themselves and swallowing their food in a
hurry. One love-bird of a stronger digestion than the rest survived some
months, but he also had a daily fit in the middle of his dinner. I was
so accustomed at last to this performance, that it was quite a surprise
to me one day to observe him lying by the side of his little saucer
longer than usual, and to find on a closer examination that he had
shared the fate of his brothers and sisters.
Jessie’s especial favourites among our birds were her own white doves,
and certainly they were lovely creatures, so soft and snowy, perfectly
tame, and never so happy as when nestling close to their beloved little
mistress. I have often thought since what a pretty picture might have
been made of Jessie, in her white dress, seated on the marble step of
the verandah, its arch festooned with creepers forming a frame for her
figure, her dark hair twisted into a thick coronet round her head, with
generally a wild flower stuck into it, her guitar with its broad riband
lying on her knee, and these white doves on her shoulder, listening
apparently with great attention to her sweet voice _crooning_ some
quaint old ballad for the delight of the younger children who were
seated on the grass at her feet. These doves met, however, with a most
tragical fate, and I must tell you all about it.
Jessie always took their bamboo cage into her own room at dusk for
greater security; and one night, just after we had all separated to go
to bed, I was very much frightened at my poor little sister suddenly
bursting into my room as pale as a ghost, and perfectly speechless with
terror; she looked so horrified that my alarm was quite as great as
hers, though I did not know what was the matter. She really could not
speak, though she tried to do so, but seized my arm and dragged me
towards her room, which, as I have told you, was next to mine, but with
no door between. At first I thought Jessie must have gone suddenly mad,
for everything there looked just as usual, and I could not see any cause
for all this agitation. She did not, however, let my arm go, but pulled
me towards a recess where the doves’ cage stood on a low table. There,
indeed, I saw a horrible sight; a huge yellow snake, with loathsome
black spots all over it, had forced its way in through the slender,
elastic bamboo bars of the cage, and lay coiled up at the bottom, with
its flat head raised, its forked tongue sticking out, and its small
cruel eyes fixed on the only surviving dove. It had already swallowed
one, and the end of the survivor was very near. Poor little ‘Selim’ was
on the lowest perch swaying backwards and forwards, gazing at the snake;
at last he sank slowly down, just as if he had fainted, and in an
instant had almost disappeared among the coils of the horrid snake’s
body. I never saw anything so rapid as the way the reptile crushed the
dear little helpless dove the moment it dropped within its reach. Jessie
gave such a shriek that I feared the snake would be roused and perhaps
escape, but he was too intent on his supper to mind us, so I took
courage, and proposed to go for our old Portuguese butler, who I thought
would know what to do. Jessie still clung to me, sobbing, and we found
the old man’s room, roused him up, and whilst he was dressing we
remembered our schoolboy brother, who would be certain to enjoy a
scrimmage at any hour of the day or night, and, in answer to our knocks
at his door, he soon appeared, as quickly dressed as if he had gone to
bed with half his clothes on!
When we returned with this reinforcement to Jessie’s room, the dove was
dead, but the snake had not yet quite swallowed it; and here I must tell
you how curiously it had prepared the poor little plump bird to go down
its narrow throat. Those dreadful squeezes among its coils had broken
all the dove’s bones, and the snake had carefully licked its feathers
the reverse way, so that instead of being a fat snowy ball, it was of a
great length, and so drawn out that it was quite thin; the snake was
leisurely proceeding to swallow it, and we could see by the bulges
exactly where the other dove was in its horrid body. The old butler
first cut off the bamboos which formed a sort of dome to the cage, and
then he and Harry prepared to kill the half-gorged snake, but, before
they struck the first blow, Jessie and I went into my room, as we could
not bear to see it.
In a few moments Harry triumphantly announced that it was all over, but
he seemed rather disappointed at the snake not showing any fight. It was
not venomous: none of the large snakes in Jamaica are so, being only
dangerous to the poultry-yard, and particularly fond of newly-hatched
ducks and chickens or even a baby-turkey. There is a very small snake,
only two feet long, called the ‘whip snake,’ from its resemblance to the
lash of a driving whip, which is said to give a poisonous bite, and is
apt to make its way into cellars, as it is fond of a cold, damp place. I
never heard, however, of any one being bitten even by this reptile.
I killed a very large snake once all by myself; and, though it was quite
by accident, I felt as proud as if I had performed a great feat of
strength or valour. I was dressed for riding, and had my whip in my
hand, but being very thirsty I went into the bath-room to see if the
water in the great earthenware Spanish jars was any cooler than that in
my bedroom. The walls of this bath-room were made of jalousies, which
could be left open all night, so as to allow the cool air from the
mountains to get in and make the water in the big cedar tubs fresh and
nice for our morning bath. Whilst I was drinking some deliciously cold
water very slowly and with great enjoyment, a large snake suddenly
thrust its head through the open jalousies, and began greedily drinking
out of the very jar from which I had just taken a tumblerful of water.
It was so thirsty it did not perceive me at first, but in a moment it
raised its head and hissed at me. I thought this so impertinent that,
without thinking I should hurt it in the least, I gave it a smart tap
with my little riding whip. The snake shrank back, and I heard a heavy
fall on the grass outside. Of course I immediately looked out of the
window to see where it was going, but to my surprise it lay quite still,
so I called Harry to back me up in case of danger, and we went to
examine it nearer. It was actually quite dead. Harry was as much
astonished as I was at my little blow having had such an effect, and he
immediately proceeded to measure my victim, triumphantly proclaiming it
to be over six feet long.
We used often to find the skins of these snakes in old stone walls, for
they shed them every year, and the roughness of the stones helps the
snake to pull its skin neatly off its head, turning it inside out like a
glove. We generally found them quite perfect and unbroken: in this state
they were very pretty, pure white, the little scales glistening in the
light with all the colours of the rainbow, just as if they were made of
the thinnest fibre of mother-of-pearl, and even the places where the
snake’s eyes had been were perfect little circles.
But now I must come back to the pets. The tortoises were very quiet, but
not very amusing _protégés_; they lived in a little pond with some rock
work in the middle for shelter from the sun. They were no bigger than
half-crowns when we first got them, and they grew very slowly. We used
to feed them twice a day with raw meat cut up into very fine pieces; at
our whistle the tortoises would leave the shelter of their rocks and
come paddling slowly towards us, looking out carefully for danger. If
anything alarmed them they would draw in their queer little heads, tuck
up their fins, or rather feet, and sink down to the bottom of the pond;
but we generally took care not to frighten them, and they would eat
their dinners very leisurely off the point of a pin. They all
disappeared in time; and as we never could find any trace of their
bodies, we fancied they must have contrived to escape and make their way
to some of the very large reservoirs which were in the paddocks for the
cows and horses to drink from, as there was no river near.
Then we had owls and hawks, and once we had a beautiful pair of Egrets
given to us. We did not know what these birds were at first, as no one
had ever seen any like them, and it was only by hunting through the
picture-books about birds that we discovered their likeness under that
name. They were flying overhead when some tiresome person, who happened
to have a gun in his hand, shot at them, wounding the female, who
fluttered to the ground, and her mate would not desert her, and was
easily captured. They were exquisitely beautiful, though with fierce
wild natures. Their legs were bright red and rather long, but their
plumage was very peculiar—milk-white, and the feathers which composed
their tails and their large crests or topknots were fluffy, like
marabout, or the down of the eider duck. We fed them on raw meat at the
risk of having our eyes pecked out, and our fingers were soon covered
with wounds, but we bravely persevered, and tried all the surgical art
we possessed to heal the poor broken wing of the female but she only
lingered a few days, and then died in great pain, I fear. Her mate
became still more fierce and untameable, and we were afraid to let him
out of his large cage lest he should share his wife’s fate. He ate well
and seemed healthy, but very restless and miserable, and we could only
keep him alive for three or four months.
I must tell you how we came by our most favorite owl. One of the spare
rooms had a large open hearth in it which was generally covered up by a
board, and against this was placed a chest of drawers, as the fireplace
was neither ornamental nor useful, for it was never cold enough to make
a fire really necessary, even on the high table-land in the middle of
Jamaica, where we spent our summers. However, after a week of heavy
rain, Jessie and I took it into our heads that we should like to have a
fire in this particular room. I really believe our only reason was a
wish to see a blaze again, it was so long since we had enjoyed one; and
as some visitors were coming in a few days, we pretended to be very
anxious lest the room might have got damp during the late rains. Nothing
was easier than to have some sweet-scented chips brought and some great
dry logs of cedar, which made a delicious perfume; and Jessie and I
rejoiced in a splendid fire, though we were obliged to have all the
windows open on account of the heat, and the fire was never replenished.
We soon left the room, and one of the housemaids, who looked in on
passing, thought the fire was quite out, as she could only see a heap of
white feathery ashes, so she carefully replaced the board and moved the
chest of drawers back again to its place against it. In a short time the
house was filled with the most unpleasant odour; we all began hunting
about for the cause; and although we tracked the smell to this spare
room, it never occurred to us to have the board removed again until
Mamma appeared on the scene and immediately had it taken away. I don’t
know which was the worst, the sight or the smell. The great draught
caused by putting up the board must have carried some of the light ashes
which were not quite extinguished up to the top of the chimney, where a
whole colony of owls had built their nests for years past. The twigs and
straw were soon ablaze, and as the bottom of the nests gave way, the
young owls came tumbling down the chimney to meet a lingering death on
the hot bricks of the hearth. There were owls in every stage of
roasting; some quite dead, and others struggling among the hot ashes.
They were more hideous to look at than you can imagine, for, at its
best, a young owl is a frightful looking object, with its awkward
unwieldy body, quite bare of feathers, with patches of down on it; and
then its wide face and great goggle eyes blinking and staring at you.
Whilst we were in our first moment of horror and disgust, another victim
fluttered and fell down the wide chimney, but before it could reach the
hot hearth Harry had rushed forward and seized it, so it was quite
uninjured, and Jessie and I immediately took possession of the ugly
little creature, making a great pet of it, and rearing it most
successfully. As soon as it came to years, or rather weeks, of
discretion we gave it its liberty, but ‘Moses’ always retained a
grateful recollection of our care; and if we called him at night when we
saw other owls flitting about, he was sure to come to us and allow
himself to be stroked and petted as of old. I used to like to bury my
face in the soft feathers at the top of his head, and ‘Moses’ would
perch quietly on my finger whilst I did this, only his claws became very
long and sharp, and as he held on very tight by them to my hand whilst I
was petting him, I soon got tired of having wounds all over my fingers.
We had also a cage full of ‘Cardinals,’ most beautiful birds with bright
scarlet feathers. In fact, they were scarlet all over, their legs and
even their eyes included. They were very healthy and apparently very
happy in a sort of hut at one end of the verandah, with plenty of room
to fly about, and, above all, a constant supply of water for their
incessant baths; whenever they wanted something to do they took a bath!
These birds do not belong to Jamaica, but are brought from South
America, and so were our beautiful ‘Tropioles.’ Never have I heard such
a clear sweet note as these last-named beauties possessed; it had all
the gladness of the skylark’s, as well as the sweetness of the
blackbird’s. They were our only musical pets, and their song awakened us
at daylight. They seemed very happy, and were quite tame, eating fruit
out of our hands. Their plumage was magnificent, rich glossy black, and
the most brilliant orange-coloured markings. Such bright fearless birds
they were, about as large as a thrush, but of a much more graceful
shape.
The last pet birds of which I am going to tell you were not at all
successful. Outside our window grew a tree called the ‘sandbox;’ its
foliage is something like a horse-chestnut, and it bears a pod of a
round shape, made up of the most symmetrical divisions like the quarters
of an orange; when this pod is ripe it goes off like a small pistol, and
scatters the seeds all about. In spite of this disagreeable habit of
exploding suddenly, the tree is very popular on account of its deep
shade, and on one of its lowest boughs Jessie and I watched a beautiful
pair of ruby humming-birds build their tiny nest. They made it of tufts
of cotton and an occasional horsehair to keep it all together, lining it
with down from their own shining breasts. Presently, during the morning
absence of the hen, we discerned two eggs, exactly like little white
sugar-plums, and for some weeks we never wearied of seeing the cock
flitting backwards and forwards with a drop of honey in his long slender
beak, for his mate’s refreshment. He did not alight whilst he fed her,
but would flit like a winged jewel towards the nest, and just hover over
her for a second; we could see the dear patient little hen raise her
bill, which he touched; then with a little cry he would dart off again
into the brilliant sunshine. I cannot find words to tell you how
beautiful the sight was; one felt as if it was fairy land, for such
exquisite and tiny creatures did not seem to belong to this great big
rough world of ours. Presently, after nearly three weeks of watching, we
saw the hen also very busy carrying honey, and then by gently moving a
sheltering leaf we peeped in to see two little birds, each no bigger
than a bee. Can you fancy a bee with a beak? for that was exactly what
they were like. We asked the opinion of several people as to whether it
would be cruel to take the nest as soon as the young ones grew a little
bigger, and at last we very carefully cut the twig it rested on, and
transferred the branch to a cage, which we hung outside our window,
under an awning. The parent birds saw it directly, and flew in and out
of the open door, feeding their young ones just as regularly, till their
feathers came and they looked quite full grown. The papa and mamma now
deserted them, and Jessie and I shut the cage door and tried to induce
them to feed themselves with honey out of the same flowers from which we
had seen their parents bring them their incessant meals; but no, they
were either too lazy, or too stupid. We then endeavoured to feed them
ourselves with honey, or with sugar and water, but we saw in a very few
days that it would only end in their death. They drooped and lost the
burnished look of their plumage, so we very reluctantly opened the cage
door, and after a few preliminary flutters our lovely little captives
darted away into the free air. We watched them hovering over a bough of
honey-bearing blossoms, and feeding themselves quite cleverly, and then
they were off like a glancing sunbeam, and we never saw them again!
_AUNT ANNIE’S STORIES ABOUT HORSES._
No doubt some of my young readers have ponies of their own; but I am
sure that even those who have not, like to hear stories about horses.
Nearly all boys and girls in town or country have noticed in how many
ways these strong and beautiful animals do good service to man; most of
us, even grown-up people, take pleasure in watching a carriage go by
with its well-groomed pair trotting proudly together, and have often
admired the enormous creatures which drag with equal pride heavy carts
and waggons. But you need not fear from this beginning that I am going
to write you an essay upon the uses and habits of the horse, for you
will learn all this in good time from natural-history books, or, what is
much better, from your own observation; besides, ladies are not supposed
to know much about horses, and I might make sad mistakes if I were to
write of them in this fashion. But though my horse-talk may not be quite
as accurate as a groom’s, still in my time I have seen so many horses of
all sorts and sizes that I may perhaps be able to amuse you by some
stories of those I have ridden or known; and I will begin with an
account of our first steed ‘Grenadier.’
He was a shaggy little Shetland, no higher than the table, and more like
a broad-backed Newfoundland dog than a pony. It was most absurd to see
this tiny creature in its stall on a line with those of the big horses,
and to read its name printed in large black letters on a white China
tablet hung over its little toy manger; the name was so big, and
‘Granny’ (for we children soon shortened his name to that) was so small.
He was an old pony when he was given to us, and so we could not expect
to alter or improve any of his ways or manners. His chief peculiarity
was his love of children: we must have teased him a great deal, yet he
was always perfectly gentle and patient to us, allowing us to pull his
tail, lift up his legs one after the other, creep under him, though we
very soon grew too big for this; in fact, he would let us children do
anything we liked with him. But the moment a grown-up person approached,
Granny’s whole nature seemed to change; his eyes gleamed with rage under
his shaggy forelock, he snorted with indignation, and the groom used to
declare he was always in terror of his life whilst he was feeding or
cleaning the pony. I remember well how delighted my sister and I were at
some one saying, after listening to the stable-helper’s eloquent account
of what he endured at Granny’s legs, ‘Why, my man, don’t you lift him up
and put him in the manger, out of your way, whilst you clean his stall?’
It seemed quite possible.
One of my earliest recollections takes me back to a summer afternoon in
the country; on the hall-door steps my father was standing with some
other gentlemen, and they were talking about horses which were dangerous
or difficult to ride. Grenadier’s name very soon came up in this
discussion, and my father sent for him. I think I see the little
creature now; a groom held the halter quite close to his muzzle, and he
approached the group on the steps with many bounds and kicks, behaving
in fact more like a lion than a discreet old pony, warranted ‘very quiet
with children.’ He was so perfect of his kind that he excited a great
deal of admiration; but all the gentlemen agreed that he seemed anything
but amiable. However, at last the groom was induced by the promise of
half-a-crown to mount Master Granny, but I don’t think he kept his seat
for more than two minutes; then one of the gentlemen tried; and, lastly,
my father, who was an excellent rider: but they all shared the fate of
the groom, and were speedily deposited on the grass. By this time Granny
had worked himself up into a fury, and would hardly let any one approach
him: we were called to pacify him, and the moment we came near with our
little hands outstretched, and our childish voices scolding him, Granny
changed as if by magic, and first one and then the other little girl was
lifted up and seated on the broad pad which was the only saddle on which
we learned to ride. I can remember quite well the look of alarm on the
gentlemen’s faces, and their entreaties to my father not to be so rash.
I believe they expected to see us both—fearless little creatures that we
were—killed before their eyes; but nothing was further from dear old
Granny’s mind than hurting us in any way. With Jessie and I clinging to
each other, and to his shaggy mane, he ambled gently and carefully about
the lawn, taking the greatest care not to turn round sharply, or in any
way peril the very slight amount of balance by which we kept ourselves
on his back. As soon as he thought we had ridden long enough, he
deliberately walked to where our nurse was, and stood perfectly still
while she helped us down; indeed, I am ashamed to say that my favourite
mode of alighting was to scramble to my feet _on_ the pad, and then with
a whoop of defiance at my unfortunate nurse, to jump off, tearing or
soiling my frock in this exploit. Dear eccentric old Grenadier! he died
long ago at an advanced age, petted and tended to the last by his little
child-friends; one of his tiny hoofs was mounted as an inkstand, with
his name and age engraved underneath it, and for many years Jessie and I
used to cherish the China tablet painted with his name as a precious
relic.
[Illustration: _Master Granny and his Pets._—p. 82]
The pony to which I was next promoted was called ‘Vic.’ He was much
larger, but so very good and well-behaved, that I cannot find anything
amusing to tell you about him; and we must pass on to ‘Alarm,’ a most
beautiful bright bay pony with black points, the sole property of our
schoolboy brother. Harry was very proud of this animal, but it really
was a most dangerous beast to ride. My father’s theory about ‘Alarm’
was, that in his youth he must have been cruelly beaten or knocked
about; for although he was treated with the utmost gentleness whilst in
our possession, his temper never improved, and up to the last he could
not be saddled without first having his eyes bandaged, as the sight of
the saddle always seemed to drive him nearly wild with rage or terror.
When once Harry had scrambled on Alarm’s back, he contrived to stick on
by the same wonderful power of adhesion which keeps sailors as well as
schoolboys on horse and pony back, when, according to all the laws of
gravitation, they ought to fall off.
I only saw Harry once pitched off Alarm, and then it was in so absurd a
way, I must tell you about it. Jessie, Harry, and I were returning
quietly home from a long ride, and at the turn of a lane we suddenly
came upon a load of cut green grass by the roadside: there was no cart
or anything near it—nothing but the soft green heap. Alarm shied
violently at this, and absolutely refused to pass it; so Harry begged
Jessie and me to go on first; we did so, and then turned round to watch
our brother’s efforts to get the refractory pony up to the grassy heap.
The groom entreated Harry to get off, and allow Alarm to be led past;
but of course he would not listen to this suggestion, and, by dint of
sundry coaxings and pattings, Alarm was induced to approach the object
of his dread. But Harry would not be content until he had made the pony
go quite close up to it, informing us, with an air of superior wisdom,
that ‘that was the only way to prevent his being so foolish again;’ and
at last he actually got Alarm’s nose near enough to smell the grass. But
it seemed as if the pony did not approve of its perfume, for with a loud
snort he flung up his heels so suddenly and so high, that poor Harry
turned a somersault in the air, and was nearly buried in the heap of
grass; whilst Alarm trotted off with his tail standing straight out, and
arching his lovely glossy neck, as if he were very proud of having won
the victory.
Alarm’s fate is unknown: he was sold, when Harry grew too big to ride
him, to a gentleman who was very anxious to give him to his little boy;
but, about three weeks later, his new owner returned to his home on
foot, having started on Alarm’s back, and announced that the pony had
thrown him and then got away. For some days after this, fragments of the
saddle and bridle were brought in; but poor Alarm was never more seen or
heard of, in spite of search and inquiry. It was a very hilly part of
the country, and we can only suppose that he fell down some precipice
and was killed. Harry mourned long and bitterly for his favourite, and
never ceased regretting having consented to part with him.
Before Alarm passed out of our possession he was concerned in a
wholesale massacre, of which I must tell you. I was extremely fond of
taking care of the poultry, and had just persuaded Mamma to depose an
old woman, who used to look after them, and I reigned in her stead. But,
alas! my subjects died in the most terrible way, as soon as I assumed
the reins of government, and I had an uneasy consciousness that, unless
things improved very soon, the old woman would be triumphantly restored
to her post. It was in the spring, when the turkeys were bringing out
their broods, and the books on poultry-keeping, which I studied
attentively, desired me to turn the young turkeys out every morning into
a grass paddock, and to feed and shut them up again at night. Now there
was exactly the paddock I wanted close to my poultry-yard, and into it I
turned my turkey-hens, each with twelve or fourteen dear little chicks,
crying ‘twee-twee-twee’ around her. When the time for shutting them up
arrived, the turkey-mothers all answered my call, but they returned with
only one or two chicks each, and looked disconsolately about them for
the remainder. This was very dreadful, and in the course of two days I
had lost about fifty baby-turkeys. I searched the paddock carefully, and
found several flattened little bodies, but with no mark of a bite on
them. There was nothing in the paddock except Alarm, and he, I thought,
was perfectly quiet and harmless. I was in despair, and next morning
prepared to spend the whole day sitting under a tree to watch what
befell my last batch of young turkeys. Presently my attention was
attracted by seeing a hen turkey, with outstretched wings and loud
cries, flying at Alarm’s legs; it seemed very odd that she should
assault the pony in this way without any provocation, so I came softly
up behind him, and arrived just in time to see his uplifted foreleg
descend on a youthful turkey, crushing it quite flat and dead with one
pat. Yes! this was the way in which Alarm had amused himself for some
days past, the result being, that out of at least a hundred fine healthy
young turkeys, I had only about ten left. The worst of it was, that no
one pitied me. Harry evidently thought it very clever of Alarm to devise
this amusement; the old woman told Mamma I ought to have had the coops
placed in the paddock, so as to keep the chicks within bounds; and the
end of it was that I had to resign my place!
After I grew up, my wandering destiny led me into many countries, and it
so happened that, in the course of my travels, I had to ride a great
deal, and became acquainted with horses of various tempers and tricks;
yet, with all this practice, I could not ride at all well. I was always
frightened, never feeling quite at home on horseback. I do not like
riding: perhaps for the reason that I have had too much of it all my
life. Riding for pleasure, as you do in England, is very different from
being obliged to take a long ride every day, and having no other means
of getting about than on horseback; and then, in these foreign
countries, the horses are generally only half-broken, and would not here
be considered fit for a lady to ride.
One horse I was obliged to ride used to lie down in water, whenever we
came to a river or brook, which was every day in the course of a long
journey of several hundred miles. ‘Claude’ used to double up his legs at
what he considered was a suitable place in the stream, and lie down
deliberately for two or three minutes. It was so impossible to prevent
him from doing this, that at last I looked upon it quite as a matter of
course, and jumped off as soon as he showed the first symptom of a wish
for a bath. By this means I seldom got wet much above my ankles;
whereas, if I remained on whilst he lay down, he always tried to roll,
and I got my saddle spoilt into the bargain. If Claude had done this
only with me, I should of course have thought it was my bad riding; but
he went through the same performance with excellent riders on his back,
and quite regardless of all the chastisement they gave him. I must say I
was delighted to find he was just as tiresome with other people.
During this long journey I rode several horses at different times:
sometimes, if the stage was a very long one, and had to be accomplished
quickly, we changed horses in the middle of it; and upon one occasion,
just as I had mounted my second horse, and before I had gathered up the
reins, or got my knee over the pommel of the saddle, he jerked his head
free in some mysterious way, leaving his bridle in the hands of the
groom who was holding him, and bolted home as hard as he could gallop! I
held tight on with one hand to the front and with the other to the back
of the saddle, and on we flew for seven or eight miles. We were not long
about it, I can assure you, and we went so fast that everything appeared
to be racing past us. My hat came off, my hair tumbled down my back, and
I must have looked like a lunatic, sitting or rather clinging in this
extraordinary way, with a very pale, scared face and bare head. At last
we reached the place from which we had started; it was quite deserted,
so I slipped off ‘Rajah’s’ back, went into the verandah and sat down,
feeling most dreadfully shaken and frightened. There was no one there to
look after the horse; but I was so disgusted at having all the way to go
back again, that I did not care what became of him, and left him to his
own devices. Presently I heard a great noise on the floor of the
verandah, and there was Rajah coming to look for me, poking his pretty
grey nose into my hand for his accustomed lump of sugar! Did you ever
hear of such impertinence?
There never was his equal for bolting; once he bolted with me at an
inspection of cavalry, taking offence at the sudden flashing of the
soldiers’ sabres as they drew them to salute their inspecting officer. I
must acknowledge it was rather startling; but the worst of it was that
the horse upon which was mounted one of the high officials assisting at
the ceremonial, bolted too, and the faster Rajah flew with the bit
between his teeth and his tail standing straight out, the more the other
horse tried to overtake him. It was a regular race for four miles, and I
had no breath left at the end of it, for the pace was tremendous;
nothing but a thoroughbred Arab in good condition could have kept it up
so long: but I did not feel afraid of tumbling off upon that occasion,
for I was fairly in the saddle, and had nothing to do except—as a dear
little boy once said to me—‘stick on like a plaster.’ The ride back was
very disagreeable, for my fellow-runaway was dreadfully sulky, and
evidently thought the misadventure my fault, whereas I considered that
if he could have pulled up his own horse, Rajah would have stopped much
sooner.
But running away is nothing to kicking. I had once to ride a horse who
never saw a pony without wanting to fight him; he used to paw at them
with his forelegs and try to bite them; or, if he could not do that, he
would make a grab at the poor rider’s leg, and often give it a nip.
Whilst riding him, I did not dare to take my eyes off his ears; for when
he laid them back, and I could see him trying to find out if I was
watching, I knew what was coming. He would stop dead short in the middle
of a canter, and begin to kick or suddenly dart across the road to bully
another horse; fortunately, ‘Afreet’ had a tender mouth, so if I was on
the watch, and could get his head well up in time, I had some chance of
stopping his little game.
But as a contrast to all these horses I have been telling you about, who
were the reverse of the proverb about ‘Handsome is, &c.,’ I must give
you a short memoir of ‘Jack,’ who was not at all handsome, but who was
the most clever and sensible animal I ever knew, as well as the most
hard-working. I made dear old Jack’s acquaintance out in New Zealand
three or four years ago, and I am happy to say he is still alive and
well, gradually sinking into a green old age, beloved and respected by
all who know him. Jack did not belong to any one person in particular:
on the station where I lived he was called a ‘station screw,’ and was
used by all who wanted him. Now I don’t exactly know what a ‘screw’
means. I believe it is something unkind when applied to a horse; but I
know that whereas the more valuable horses used occasionally to meet
with accidents, or have some ailment, Jack was _never_ ill or unable to
do what was required of him. I am afraid Jack’s exterior was clumsy and
rather of the plough-horse kind; but then he could go like ‘Eclipse’ on
an emergency; you could ride him all day; he would carry you a long
weary journey, and when grander horses would be too tired to eat, Jack
would calmly munch his oats as if he had not been a mile away from home,
and look as fresh as a daisy next morning. If ever I have to ride in a
circus, I will send for Jack! Any one could stand up on his back and
jump through hoops or perform feats of agility, and Jack would canter or
walk steadily round and round all the time. I have often ridden for
miles on Jack with the reins knotted on his neck, and my hands in the
pockets of my jacket to keep them warm. When my own showy mare was laid
up, I rode Jack. If any one wanted to look for a stray horse or cow,
they rode Jack. If a horse was wanted on a pinch to draw a cart or even
a dog-cart, Jack was ‘all there.’ If mutton was wanted from the home
station, ‘Where is Jack?’ was the first question. Other horses were very
difficult to catch, but Jack walked confidingly up to you when he saw
the halter in your hand. One defect he had, and only one; he certainly
was very greedy. Jack would do anything for a feed of oats. He has been
known to eat his own feed and that of two other horses also; and as for
a haystack, Jack scented it miles away, and no fence could keep him out;
at least no New Zealand fence, for they are only wire railings about
three feet six inches high, and Jack quietly and cautiously steps over
them, one leg at a time. I saw him caught in a fence once, as he was
getting over it into a paddock of beautiful clover, and instead of
struggling, he stood perfectly still; and when he saw me in the
verandah, he whinnied to attract my attention, knowing I would come and
help him at once.
Jack preferred a steady, sober pace, but upon occasion he could go very
fast, as I will tell you. The horses in New Zealand are seldom or never
kept in stables or even in paddocks, but roam all over the ‘run,’ in
what are called ‘mobs;’ that is, several of them together. If a horse is
wanted out of the mob, the only way to get it is to drive all the
others, as well as the one you require, into a stock-yard, or enclosure
made of strong, high posts and rails. On these occasions I generally
begged to be allowed to help, for the sake of the pleasant ride on a
lovely afternoon among the hills, and the excitement of finding the mob
and driving them into the stock-yard. The horses were often very
difficult to catch. If one saw us coming, perhaps he would give the
alarm, and the whole mob would set off up the gorge of a river, or over
a steep hill-pass, and we would have to go round a long way to turn and
drive them back. The gentlemen of the party carried stock-whips, which
they cracked from time to time, the report echoing among the quiet
lonely valleys like that of a pistol. Sometimes I rode my own mare,
Helen, but the galloping and shouting used to excite her very much, and
it was all I could do to take care of myself when I was on her back; so
I preferred dear, quiet, old Jack, whenever he was not wanted for the
real business of the expedition; generally, however, he was in great
request, as he was one of the best ‘stock-horses’ in all the
country-side. Upon this occasion we had found the mob without much
trouble, driven them into the stock-yard, caught the chestnut pony which
was wanted, and were all returning quietly home in the gloaming,
enjoying the beautiful sunset, and the fresh, sweet air which steals
down the glens after a hot summer day. I was on Jack’s back, ambling
gently along, when suddenly a wild cat started up under our feet and
bolted into a large, thick bed of fern close by. In a moment the
gentlemen were off their horses and, with many shouts and yells, were
trying to help the dogs to get poor pussy out of her cover. I offered to
hold the chestnut’s flax bridle, but my assistance was declined, and the
sort of leading rein (also made of flax) was securely fastened to the
stump of a Ti-ti palm close by. Jack evidently distrusted this
arrangement, or else he knew more of the chestnut’s sly tricks than we
did. At all events, he edged up to where the horse was hitched, and
stood quite close to him, watching every movement attentively. And it
was well he was so careful, for in the most exciting moment of the
cat-hunt, when everybody’s attention was engaged, the pony threw up his
head, gave a violent plunge and a pull back at the same time; a badly
tied knot in the flax halter gave way, and off he flew like the wind to
join the other horses, which were feeding in a large mob just in sight,
at the entrance of the gorge of a river.
Before I knew what had happened, Jack was off after the runaway. Never
have I been carried at such a pace. Jack did just as he liked; instead
of going warily and carefully over the rough country, he jumped every
hole or prickly bush which came in his way, to save the time required to
go round it; when we reached a creek, instead of discreetly seeking for
the best place at which to cross it, Jack scrambled down its steep,
crumbling banks, splashed through the water, and was up the other side
like a cat, and on again, watching every turn of the chestnut, who was
doing his best to join the mob, with them to make a final bolt up the
gorge and escape us for that night. Jack felt bound in honour to prevent
this, so he laid himself well out to his work, and with the most
wonderful instinct availed himself of every inch of ground by which he
could gain the entrance to the gorge before the mob. He not only
succeeded in heading the horses, but actually turned them into the
stock-yard close by; and when I recovered my presence of mind, I found
myself still on Jack’s back, who was standing _across_ the open place
where the slip-rail ought to have been put. He quite understood that I
was incapable of jumping off and getting the long pole into its proper
position, so as to keep all the horses in, and therefore he took this
duty on his own shoulders. How he shook himself when we had reached this
point! I was already jolted nearly to death, for I am bound to say that
dear Jack’s paces were very rough when he galloped fast, and to be
shaken violently directly after such a skelter was too trying. When the
gentlemen came up, they could hardly speak for laughing, at which I was
much affronted, for I felt we deserved great praise for our exertions;
but it seems that we looked very absurd, tearing along like a whirlwind
(both Jack and I being ordinarily very quiet and deliberate in our
movements), jumping all obstacles, disappearing sometimes in the bed of
a creek, and finally gaining the victory single-handed against some
twenty horses.
I have one more story to tell you, and it takes me back again to the
time when I was a little girl. My father came home one day, and
announced that he had bought a very handsome horse to go in single
harness. First of all we inquired what colour he was? A bright bay. Then
we asked about his mane and tail; and lastly, some practical person
demanded what price was to be paid for ‘Tom.’ I well remember the
astonishment when my father said how very little his owner asked for
him. Of course, the next question was, ‘Is he sound?’ ‘Oh yes, he is all
right,’ Papa said; ‘but he has fits of obstinacy, and stands quite still
for hours: however, I don’t think he will try any of his tricks with
me.’
In due time Tom came home, and a very handsome horse he was, large and
powerful, with splendid action, and very showy. I had overheard the
gentlemen talking together about his having ‘a sullen eye,’ and I
immediately flitted off to the stable to see what this sort of eye was
like. To my disappointment, Tom’s eyes were just like those of all the
other horses. Every morning, Papa used to take Tom out in a sort of
light gig, with a groom by his side. I anxiously inquired how Tom had
behaved; the answer was always the same, ‘Perfectly well.’ There was
nothing I liked so much in those days as going out with my father for a
morning drive, and at last, after some weeks of excellent behaviour on
Tom’s part, and earnest entreaties on mine, I was allowed to accompany
Papa again. Tom went as peacefully as a lamb; he was often tried by
having to stop to allow a gate to be opened, but he never minded this
check, and went on amiably afterwards, until one unlucky day, when Papa
and I were alone. We came to a large white gate—how well I remember it
now; I jumped out to open it as quickly as possible, so as not to try
Tom’s temper; but running past him to scramble up again to my perch, I
saw at once what they meant by a sullen eye. It was a look of sheer rage
and obstinacy, such as you would not believe a horse could assume. It
did not surprise me to find that Tom made no movement in reply to Papa’s
‘click.’ First of all, kindness and petting were tried; I did what I
could to help by coaxing and patting. Tom stood as if he were carved out
of wood; then my father beat him; Tom never winced. I remember Papa’s
laughing at my suggestion that we were in fairy land, and that a wicked
enchanter had turned Tom into stone. It really seemed like it, for time
passed and Tom was motionless. The whip was broken, and my father’s arm
was tired; still Tom did not stir. At last, when no one was touching
him, he gave a sudden bound into the air, all four legs off the ground
at once, and fell between the shafts, which snapped short off, sending
Papa and poor little me flying into the dusty road. As soon as we had
picked ourselves up and found we were not hurt, we went to Tom, who was
lying perfectly still, with some blood on the dust by his head. He was
quite dead; and after I grew up, and reminded Papa of that adventure, he
told me that a veterinary surgeon examined poor Tom’s body, and found
that he had burst a large vessel in his heart, from rage or indignation,
we don’t know which. I was so sorry for Tom!
I have now told you all the horse-stories which I can remember, and must
try to think of something else to amuse you with next time.
_FOUR MONTHS IN CAMP._
I daresay many of my child readers think that it must be delightful to
live in a tent. And so it is; for a few years ago I passed four months
under canvas, and found them very pleasant, especially as the tent was
moved to a fresh place every day. There are so many railroads in India
now, that I suppose the marching of troops from one end of the country
to the other is given up; but, at the time I write of, there was no
other way of transporting them, and a regiment or an army sometimes had
to make a journey of one or two thousand miles. We, who live in a little
island, can hardly imagine how vast a region is even one Indian
province. If you look at the map you will see that all England might be
laid down on the plains of Bengal, and leave a margin as large in
proportion as your little hand would leave, if laid down on this page.
I shall begin the story of my tent-life from the evening before I joined
the camp, a day’s march from Lucknow. First, you must know that I had
arrived from England only two weeks before, and consequently knew
nothing of the language or the ways of the people. Now I expect you to
get the map, and find Lucknow in the north-west province of Oudh; then
we can make the journey together,—it will take us right up to the
Himalaya mountains, and I hope to be able to amuse you by the way.
We had been staying for three or four days at Lucknow, having travelled
thither from Calcutta partly by railway, and partly in a most
uncomfortable and jolting carriage, like a very bad cab, in which we
slept at night. Glad to think this kind of journeying over, I looked
forward eagerly to my first glimpse of the white tents which were to be
our home for some time. But before we joined the camp, there was a great
deal to be done in the way of buying things, hiring servants, and making
various arrangements for our comfort, and you must remember that I knew
nothing at all about what was wanted, and had every moment to ask some
kind person’s advice, just as you would be obliged to do. The camp which
we were ordered to join was composed of five thousand soldiers, who were
to take what was called ‘a military promenade’ from one end of Bengal to
the other, to see that the country was quiet, the forts in good repair,
and the various garrisons doing their duty properly. We marched in great
state, for the Commander-in-Chief was with us, and all the heads of
departments. There was an immense number of servants and _kelasses_, or
men to pitch the tents every day. I have heard that the camp numbered
more than ten thousand people, though barely half of them were soldiers;
there were only four ladies, including myself!
Fortunately for me, the lady with whom I stayed at Lucknow had made just
such a journey only the year before, so she told me exactly what was
best to do and to buy, and great fun I thought it making such odd
purchases. First there was the cook to be hired: he required several
assistants, a little cart drawn by bullocks to carry all his pots and
pans, and a wire-gauze safe to keep his provisions in. Poor man! he had
no kitchen, and yet he used to send us up capital meals three times a
day. All we had to do was to pay his daily bill; everybody took it for
granted he cheated us immensely, but still I think it was very clever of
him to manage so comfortably. We were allowed a certain number of camels
and elephants to carry our tents and baggage, but the odd thing was that
we had to buy two sets of everything, even two sets of pretty blue and
white cotton carpets; these were made just like the Turkey carpets you
probably have often seen, only of cotton instead of wool; they could be
easily washed whenever we came to a river, and were besides much cooler
and lighter than an ordinary dining-room carpet. Two sets of basket
chairs had to be bought, with cushions of picked cotton, and pretty
chintz covers to fit them; two sets of beds, of jugs and basins, cups
and saucers, plates and dishes; our clothes, brushes, combs, books, &c.,
all had to be divided into two sets, and packed in two sets of camel
trunks. The only things from which we never intended to part were a
despatch-box and my travelling-bag; that was given into my ayah’s care,
which reminds me that we had to buy a light sort of palanquin for her,
and to provide two sets of bearers to carry it.
I, thinking it would be so very hot in India, had left all my winter
clothes behind me in England; but I had to buy plenty of flannel and
warm stuffs at Lucknow, for everybody assured me the cold would be
intense early in the morning and late at night, and so it was. Whilst at
dinner in the tent, I often had to send for a thick shawl to wrap myself
up in. Among our servants was an excellent _durzie_, or tailor, who made
all my clothes and mended everything. Nothing affronted him so much as
to even see me sew on a button to my glove; he thought it was a
reflection on his industry. He worked very hard during those few days at
Lucknow, and got my wardrobe into excellent marching order by the 12th
December, the day fixed for our joining the ‘Head-quarters Camp,’ at a
place called Byram-Ghât, about thirty miles from Lucknow. We did not
start until late at night; all day we were busy superintending the
packing and seeing off all our worldly goods. I took especial delight in
watching the loading of the camels; they were brought up to the verandah
at the back of the house, and there made to kneel down and have their
pack-saddle put on. Then came trunks, whose weight was evenly balanced
on each side; a charpoy, or light bamboo bedstead, was fastened on the
top; upon this sat the camel-driver, guiding his steed by means of a
string rein fastened to a little bit of wood stuck through its nose. The
camels made a great fuss about their loads; they gurgled and groaned in
the most heartrending manner, and I was very sorry for them, until I saw
what a bad mother one of them was. She had a dear little baby camel, and
she was dreadfully unkind to it, biting and kicking it whenever it came
near her. Just as she was going to start, having had a very light load
put on her saddle, the camel-driver gently threw the little camel down,
tied its legs with an old turban of his own, and finally had it lifted
up and laid on the charpoy behind him; so the unkind mother had to carry
her child after all, against her will, I daresay.
I must not forget to tell you about the pets, who had a servant all to
themselves. There was a beautiful parrot, a small cage full of Java
sparrows (who, by the way, are the stupidest little creatures in the
world), and another of paroquets from Ceylon. These were sent on with
their attendant, but I kept my latest favourite to travel with me. It
was a most beautiful thoroughbred Persian cat, as white as snow, with
long silky hair instead of short fur; she had also two white knobs
hanging down by her jaws, one eye was blue and the other green, all of
which characteristics belong to the true Persian breed. She was large
and powerful, but as gentle and playful as a kitten. My difficulties
with this animal began at once, for no sooner was I packed into the
palanquin in which we were to make our journey from Lucknow to the camp,
than Miss Pussy discovered some cold pigeon, which my hostess had kindly
put on the little shelf inside the palkee (as palanquins are generally
called); and when I wanted my early breakfast at six o’clock, the coffee
was forthcoming, but neither the bread nor the pigeon was to be found.
Pussy did not attempt to deny the robbery when taxed with it, but sat
licking her paws with a self-satisfied and contented air. I must explain
that Puss only answered to the name of ‘Billy,’ although she was a most
elegant young lady; but a word which has something of the same sound is
Bengalee for cat, and she had no other name. I think I shall tell you
her fate here, so as not to interrupt my story when once we get fairly
into camp. She was very good and quiet during the day, and slept
contentedly on my lap, or curled herself up like a white heap on my
writing-table; but at night she was as bad as a teething baby. Not a
wink of sleep would she let me have; mewing, purring, jumping up on my
bed to awake me, begging me in the most earnest cat language to let her
go outside the tent, and play in the moonlight. I was warned not to
allow her to do this, and of course I ought not to have given way; but
at the end of a week I was so tired of these disturbances, that I got
out of bed, pulled up the fastening peg of the tent-door, or rather
curtain, and out poor Billy bounded, with a little cry of joy, into the
bright moonlight. I looked after her to watch if she would go far; but
her last moment had come. I think I see her now, standing in the soft
shining light, with her pretty head well up, her small ears pointed, and
lashing her long bushy tail from side to side. Alas! she had no instinct
of her coming danger, for in a moment, from the rear of the tent, a
small band of wolves dashed forward—I heard a cry, a snarl, some short
greedy snaps, and all that was left of my poor Billy was a little tuft
of blood-stained fur, or rather hair. She was eaten up in a moment
before my eyes. It was all my fault for letting her go out, but she
begged so hard!
We shall never get on if I stop by the way to tell you the fate of all
my pets, so let us keep steadily to our camp life. Leaving Lucknow, we
travelled all night in our palanquins, and, about six o’clock in the
morning, I was just beginning to feel dozy, when one of the attendants
drew aside the curtains of my palkee and pointed to a large clump of
trees, saying something I could not understand; however, I sat eagerly
up and saw my movable home looking quiet and peaceful in the early
morning. We never see such splendid tents in England; they were all
double poled, and arranged so as to form a long and wide street, with
the Commander-in-Chief’s tent across the top. The standard was flying in
front, with the sentries pacing up and down before it. At the back of
the camp were rows of very small tents for the horsekeepers, the cooks,
and other outdoor servants: the horses, some four or five in number,
were picketed in the rear of their owners’ large tents; behind these
again were a swarm of smaller ones for the soldiers, and still further
off, among the trees, I could see on one side the camels’ camp, and on
the other that of the elephants. All looked orderly and quiet in the
early morning, and very different to what I soon discovered was its
usual aspect. The camp had halted at this Ghât for a few days, to
collect all the stragglers and arrange the order of march.
We soon passed the first row of sentries, then the next, and trotted and
jolted up to the entrance of one of the largest tents at the upper end
of the street. Amid much chattering and jabbering, and entreaties to
each other to be ‘very careful of the lady-sahib,’ my bearers put my
palkee down in front of my new home, and I sat up in it, feeling very
sleepy, and dusty, and tired, to have my first look at a real tent to
live in. I had made up my mind that it would be something like the gipsy
encampments one sees on a common in England, and that the life would be
a rough and uncomfortable one, but there was nothing of the sort. Our
old Khansamah appeared at the entrance as beautifully clean in his snowy
robes and turban as if he had just come out of a bandbox, and with many
salaams ushered us into a sort of verandah which ran all round the tent,
and then into the centre compartment. It looked just like a very
spacious and lofty drawing-room. On the sand was spread first the thick
striped drugget which matched the linings of the tent, pale buff and
blue, and over this our own pretty cotton carpets and rugs. There were
tables with gay covers, books, writing materials and vases of flowers,
plenty of straw arm-chairs, and a long folding chair which made a very
good sofa. What I thought the prettiest of all was a sort of trophy of
green boughs arranged round the poles, and another of whips, guns,
spurs, and swords. It all looked quite homelike and pretty. On a side
table the cloth was laid for the early breakfast, and in a few moments
we had some delicious coffee and rusks. At each side of this centre
compartment was another room, that on the left hand being fitted up as a
very nice bedroom; a portion of the verandah outside it was curtained
off for a bath-room, and contained a large india-rubber bath full of
fresh water. The division on the right was arranged as a dressing-room
(also with a bath-room), and in it was a writing-table on which the
important despatch-box was soon placed.
I now understood how necessary was the second set of everything. All was
packed and ready to start as soon as the order of march was issued, so
we lived in one tent whilst the other was on its road to the next
camping-ground. We very soon set out on the march; I will describe the
routine of a single day to you, and then you will know exactly how we
managed for four months. Every Sunday we halted and had morning service
in the Highlanders’ portion of the camp, and, in the afternoon, full
service in the Commander-in-Chief’s tent. When we arrived at a large
station we rested for three or four days whilst His Excellency inspected
the garrison. There were a great many balls and parties given in our
honour, but the account of these festivities would not interest you
much, so I must go back to the daily camp life.
At half-past four o’clock every morning the bugle sounded. We all got up
immediately and dressed as quickly as possible, I in my riding-habit; at
five the second bugle blew, and instantly, as if by magic, the walls of
the tent fell flat disclosing us drinking our coffee. As soon as
possible afterwards we started; it was pitch dark and very cold, so we
rode for the first few miles on the back of our baggage-elephant. This
used to amuse me very much, though I never quite liked the getting up
and down. The elephant I rode was larger than those you see in the
Zoological Gardens, but quite as tame. His driver, or ‘mahout,’ sat on
the poor beast’s head, and hit him hard with a small battle-axe, or
prodded him with the sharp iron point of a spearhead, when he wanted him
to go faster. The elephant did not seem to mind this severe correction
in the least, so I hope it did not hurt him. He always knelt down for me
to mount, and then a ladder was placed against his side, and I scrambled
up on the pad which was my only saddle. How it is very difficult to go
quickly up a shaky ladder in a long habit, and I was always glad when I
found myself safely perched on his back. From this height, as soon as
the day began to dawn, I could see the endless line of the procession:
not only were there all the soldiers horse and foot, but innumerable
camp-followers, with droves of sheep, of cows, of poultry: carts of all
sorts and sizes, with ammunition, knapsacks, provisions, the wives and
children of the hundreds of servants, the washer-_men_, the
water-carriers, and many more than I can remember, all wending their way
in silence amid clouds of dust. Every now and then a jingling of bells
would herald the swift passing of an orderly mounted on a camel, who was
hurrying on with orders, his steed gay with trappings of green and
crimson to mark that it belonged to the ‘Camel Corps.’ I used to see
regularly every morning on the line of march a very seedy-looking pony
about as big as a Newfoundland dog, with a cock perched on its back.
Whenever the poor little pony stopped the cock flapped his wings and set
up a loud crow; I never could discover that the pony had any other duty
to perform except to carry that cock.
As soon as the day dawned, which was not much before six, we began to
look out for our horses; they had been sent on, and were awaiting us by
the side of a wall or under a tree. We soon mounted and set off as hard
as we could gallop so as to get out of the dust. Ten miles of fast
cantering brought us to the new camp, and we rode up to the entrance of
a tent precisely like the one we had left an hour or two before. There
was breakfast ready, and everything looking as if we had lived in the
tent for years. The first thing to do was to get rid of the dust, then
we had a good breakfast; after that I saw the Khansamah, paid his bill
for yesterday, and gave orders for to-morrow. At first I was obliged to
have an interpreter whilst arranging my household affairs, but very soon
I could get on by myself. Of course I made absurd mistakes; as when I
told the poor Khansamah one morning to bring in more _bundles of
firewood_ for breakfast! I meant to order eggs, but the words are not in
the least alike in Hindoostanee. I never shall forget the poor man’s
look of astonishment at my insisting on being obeyed, nor did I discover
my mistake till the woodcutters filed into the tent, one after another,
each carrying a large faggot which he laid at my feet, and the old
Khansamah looked at me, as much as to say, ‘I hope you are satisfied
now.’
After my interview with the cook, I settled down to my lessons, and very
hard I had to work, I assure you; for, whatever clever people may say
about it, I only know I found Hindoostanee exceedingly difficult to
learn; it is tolerably easy to pick up a few sentences, just enough to
give orders to the servants, but it is quite another thing learning a
language where some of the letters of the alphabet are only two little
dots, or a dot and a stroke, or a little dash; and I _never_ could feel
at home beginning my copy at what we consider the end of a line, on the
right hand, and writing backwards. Then, after studying for some time
very attentively, and hoping I had got on very well, I made the
humiliating discovery that I could only read my own writing, any one
else’s being to me as undecipherable as hieroglyphics! By the time my
studies were over it was time for luncheon; after lunch I had a nap,
getting up about four to change my dress for a hunting expedition. All
along the line of march we could find game a little off the main road,
so every afternoon our ‘shikari,’ or huntsman, came to the tent-door
with his elephant, and some coolies to beat for us. He made it his
business to discover the best and nearest place for red-legged
partridges, wild ducks, snipe, peacocks, or antelopes; we seldom had to
go more than four miles before we dismounted from the elephant; we then
went into the jungle, and the gentlemen shot until it got too dark to
see the game. I acted as dog upon these expeditions, for English
pointers are exceedingly rare, and very seldom of any use; the native
servant who takes care of each couple is always dreadfully afraid of his
charges, and never thinks of keeping them in order; he pampers and pets
them, letting them do just as they like, and always speaks of them as
‘Kootah Sahib,’ or ‘Mr. Dog.’ So I used to beat the bushes for
partridges, and whenever we put up a covey I marked them down, ran off
to the bush where they took shelter, and waited there till the sportsmen
came up. I carried a gun myself once, and only once. I never had courage
to fire it, but once it went off of its own accord and shot a porcupine.
Poor little creature! I was so sorry for it; there was nothing to be
seen after the explosion but a few quills, which I have kept carefully
ever since.
Stalking the antelopes was the best fun: they were so clever and so
fleet that we could hardly ever get near enough for a rifle shot, but
then the triumph was all the greater when we returned to camp with a
fine fat buck slung on the elephant. As soon as I dismounted at my
tent-door, the mahout ordered the elephant to ‘salaam,’ so he lifted up
his long trunk and slapped his great wide forehead with it three or four
times, just as the natives do. I always gave him something for his
civility, a piece of cake or a large lump of sugar; but what he liked
best was a bottle of beer; it was so curious to see how carefully he
took it up in his trunk and poured the contents slowly into his huge
mouth. I only gave him a pint bottle, so I suppose he considered that a
mere sip! We had just time to dress for dinner, which was always at
seven. We often dined out, or had officers to dine with us, for
everybody was very sociable and pleasant; but it seemed rather odd to me
that all guests were expected to send to the tent where they were going
to dine, their own chair, plate, tumbler, wineglass, knife and fork, and
spoon! However, if you think of it, it would have been impossible to
carry about things enough for a dozen extra guests. We four ladies were
made a great deal of, and used often to dine at the mess tents of the
various regiments: but there was no sitting up late; everybody in
camp—servants and all—was fast asleep by ten o’clock, and there was not
a sound to be heard but the laugh of the hyænas, or the loud baying of
the wolves.