ARRIVAL IN INDIA.--CAMPAIGN ON THE SUTLEJ, 1845-46.
My brother landed at Calcutta on the 13th of September, 1845, and,
with as little delay as possible, proceeded up the country to Agra,
where he found a hearty welcome beneath the hospitable roof of the
Hon. James Thomason, Lieutenant-Governor of the Northwest Provinces,
an old family friend and connection, who, from that time to his death,
treated him with as much affection, and took as deep an interest in
his career, as if he had been his own son.
He was appointed to do duty with the 2d Grenadiers, then forming a
part of the Governor-General's escort, and, accordingly, left Agra on
November 2d. In the following letter he describes his first
impressions of camp life in an Indian army.
After mentioning a delay caused by an attack of fever and dysentery,
on his way to the camp, he proceeds:--
I was able, however, to join the Grenadiers at four o'clock
on the morning of the 7th, and share their dusty march of
ten miles to the village near which the Governor-General's
camp was pitched. Since that day we have been denizens of a
canvas city of a really astonishing extent, seeing that it
is the creation of a few hours, and shifts with its enormous
population, some ten or fifteen miles a day. I wonder more
every day at the ease and magnitude of the arrangements, and
the varied and interesting pictures continually before our
eyes. Soon after four A. M., a bugle sounds the _reveille_,
and the whole mass is astir at once. The smoke of the
evening fires has by this time blown away, and everything
stands out clear and defined in the bright moonlight. The
Sepoys, too, bring the straw from their tents, and make
fires to warm their black faces on all sides, and the groups
of swarthy redcoats stooping over the blaze, with a white
background of canvas, and the dark clear sky behind all,
produce a most picturesque effect as one turns out into the
cold. Then the multitudes of camels, horses, and elephants,
in all imaginable groups and positions,--the groans and
cries of the former as they stoop and kneel for their
burdens, the neighing of hundreds of horses mingling with
the shouts of the innumerable servants and their masters'
calls, the bleating of sheep and goats, and louder than all,
the shrill screams of the Hindoo women, almost bewilder
one's senses as one treads one's way through the canvas
streets and squares to the place where the regiment
assembles outside the camp.
A second bugle sounds "the assembly." There is a blaze of
torches from the Governor's tents; his palanquin carriage,
drawn by four mules, and escorted by jingling troopers,
trots to the front. The artillery thunder forth the morning
gun, as a signal that the great man is gone,--the guns
rattle by,--the cavalry push on after them,--and then at
length our band strikes up. "Forward" is the word, and the
red (and black) column moves along, by this time as
completely obscured by the dense clouds of dust as though
they were in London during a November fog. We are not
expected to remain with our men, but mount at once, and ride
in a cluster before the band, or ride on a quarter of a mile
or so, in twos and threes, complaining of the laziness of
the great man's people, and of the dust and cold, as if we
were the most ill-used of her Majesty's subjects. As soon as
we're off the ground, and the road pretty clear, I dismount,
and walk the first eight miles or so, this being the time to
recover one's powers of locomotion. The cold is really very
great, especially in the hour before sunrise,--generally
about one and a half or two hours after we start. It soon
gets warm enough to make one glad to ride again, and by the
time the march is over, and the white city is in sight, the
heat is very great, though now diminishing daily. It is a
sudden change of temperature, truly,--from near freezing at
starting, to 90 deg. or 100 deg. at arriving; and it is this, I
think, which makes us feel the heat so much in this climate.
In the daytime we get on very well; the heat seldom
exceeding 86 deg., and often not more than 84 deg. and 82 deg. in tents.
It sounds hot, but a house or tent at 84 deg. is tolerably
endurable, especially if there is a breeze. My tent is
twelve feet square inside, and contains a low pallet bed, a
table, chair, two camel trunks, and brass basin for washing.
I will get a sketch of the camp to send you.
_Nov. 18th._--This nomad life is agreeable in many respects,
and very healthy, and one sees a great deal of the country,
but it destroys time rather, as the march is not over,
generally, till half-past nine or ten, and then breakfast,
a most eagerly desired composition, and dressing afterwards,
do not leave much of the day before the cool evening comes
for exercise, or sight-seeing and dining, and by nine most
of us are in bed, or near it.
_Dec. 2._--Umbala.--We had a short march of six miles into
Umbala this morning, and I got leave from our colonel to
ride on and see the troops assemble to greet the
Governor-General. I never saw so splendid a sight: 12,000 of
the finest troops were drawn up in one line, and as I rode
slowly along the whole front, I had an excellent opportunity
of examining the varied materials of an Indian army. First
were the English Horse Artillery; then the dashing dragoons
of the 3d Queen's, most splendidly mounted and appointed;
then came the stern, determined-looking British footmen,
side by side with their tall and swarthy brethren from the
Ganges and Jumna,--the Hindoo, the Mussulman, and the white
man, all obeying the same word, and acknowledging the same
common tie; next to these a large brigade of guns, with a
mixture of all colors and creeds; then more regiments of
foot, the whole closed up by the regiments of native
cavalry: the quiet-looking and English-dressed Hindoo
troopers strangely contrasted with the wild Irregulars in
all the fanciful _un_uniformity of their native costume; yet
these last are the men _I_ fancy for service. Altogether, it
was a most interesting sight, either to the historian or
soldier, especially as one remembered that these were no men
of parade, but assembled here to be poured across the Sutlej
at a word.
The "pomp and circumstance" of war were soon to be exchanged for its
stern realities, as will be seen in the following letter to his
father, dated Christmas Day, 1845:--
CAMP, SULTANPOOR.
I take the first day of rest we have had, to write a few
hurried lines to relieve you from any anxiety you may have
felt at not hearing from me by the last mails, or from
newspaper accounts, which will, I fear, reach you before
this letter can. I am most thankful to be able to sit down
once more to write to you all but unharmed. Since I wrote, I
have been in four general engagements of the most formidable
kind ever known in India. For the first time we had to
contend with a brave and unconquered people, disciplined,
and led on like our own troops by European skill; and the
result, though successful to our arms, has been fearful
indeed as to carnage. You will see accounts in the papers
giving details more accurate than I can possibly furnish,
both of our wonderfully rapid and fatiguing marches, and of
the obstinate and bloody resistance we met with. On the 10th
of this month, on our usual quiet march to Sirhind with the
Governor-General's camp, we were surprised by being joined
by an additional regiment, and by an order for all
non-soldiers to return to Umbala. From that day we have had
the fatigues and exertions of actual warfare in their
broadest forms,--marching day and night unprecedented
distances, scarcity of sleep and food, and all the varieties
of cold and heat. I enjoyed all, and entered into it with
great zest, till we came to actual blows, or rather, I am
(_now_) half ashamed to say, till the blows were over, and I
saw the horrible scenes which ensue on war. I have had quite
enough of such sights now, and hope it may not be my lot to
be exposed to them again. Our loss has been most severe,
especially in officers. Our Sepoys could not be got to face
the tremendous fire of the Sikh artillery, and, as usual,
the more they quailed, the more the English officers exposed
themselves in vain efforts to bring them on. The greatest
destruction was, however, among the Governor-General's
staff,--only two (his own son and Colonel Benson) escaped
death or severe wounds. They seemed marked for destruction,
and certainly met it most gallantly. On the 15th we joined
the Commander-in-Chief, with his troops from Umbala, were
put off escort duty, and joined General Gilbert's division.
On the 17th we had a march of thirty miles, (in the daytime,
too,) with scanty food; on the 18th, after a fasting march
of twenty-five miles, we were summoned, at half-past four in
the afternoon, to battle, which lasted till long after dark.
Almost the first shot which greeted our regiment killed the
man standing by my side, and instantly afterwards I was
staggered by a ball from a frightened Sepoy behind me
grazing my cheek and blackening my face with the powder,--so
close was it to my head! We were within twenty, and at times
ten, yards of three guns blazing grape into us, and worse
than all, the bushes with which the whole ground was covered
were filled with marksmen who, unseen by us, could pick us
off at pleasure. No efforts could bring the Sepoys forward,
or half the loss might have been spared, had they rushed on
with the bayonet. We had three officers wounded out of our
small party, and lost many of the men. We were bivouacked on
the cold ground that night, and remained under arms the
whole of the following day. Just as we were going into
action, I stumbled upon poor Carey, whom you may remember to
have heard of at Price's, at Rugby. On going over the field
on the 30th, I found the body actually cut to pieces by the
keen swords of the Sikhs, and but for his clothes could not
have recognized him. I had him carried into camp for burial,
poor fellow, extremely shocked at the sudden termination of
our renewed acquaintance. On Sunday, the 21st, we marched
before daybreak in force to attack the enemy, who had
intrenched themselves behind their formidable artillery. The
action began in the afternoon, lasted the whole night, and
was renewed with daybreak. They returned again to the charge
as often as we gained any advantage, and it was evening
before they were finally disposed of by a charge of our
dragoons, _and our ammunition was exhausted!_--so near are
we in our most triumphant successes to a destruction as
complete! The results are, I suppose, in a political point
of view, immense indeed. We took from them nearly one
hundred large guns, and routed their vast army, prepared,
had they succeeded in beating us, to overrun Hindostan; and
it must be owned they had nearly succeeded! It will scarcely
be believed, but they had actually purchased and prepared
supplies as far into the interior of our country as Delhi,
and unknown to our authorities; and the whole of Northern
India was, as usual, ready to rise upon us at an hour's
notice. On the evening of the 21st, as we rushed towards the
guns, in the most dense dust and smoke, and under an
unprecedented fire of grape, our Sepoys again gave way and
broke. It was a fearful crisis, but the bravery of the
English regiments saved us. The Colonel (Hamilton), the
greater part of my brother officers, and myself, were left
with the colors and about thirty men immediately in front of
the batteries! Our escape was most providential, and is, I
trust, thankfully acknowledged by us. A ball (from a shell,
I fancy) struck my leg below the knee, but happily spared
the bone, and only inflicted a flesh wound. I was also
knocked down _twice_,--once by a shell bursting so close to
me as to kill the men behind me, and once by the explosion
of a magazine or mine. I am most thankful indeed for my
escape from death or maiming. The wound in my leg is
nothing, as you may judge when I tell you that I was on foot
or horseback the whole of the two following days. Last night
we moved on here about five miles from the scene of action,
and got some food, and into our beds, after four days and
nights on the ground, alternately tried with heat and cold
(now most severe at night), and nothing but an occasional
mouthful of black native bread. I think, during the four
days, all I had to eat would not compose half a home
breakfast-loaf, and for a day and night we had not even
water; when we did get water, after driving the enemy from
their camp, it was found to have been spoiled with
gunpowder! It was like eating Leamington water, but our
thirst was too great to stick at trifles.
_Dec. 26th._--We are resting here comfortably again in our
tents, and had a turkey for our Christmas dinner last night.
The rest is most grateful. We had only nine hours in bed out
of five nights, and then the next four were on the ground.
So you see I have come in for the realities of a soldier's
life pretty early in my career; and since I am spared, it is
doubtless a great thing for me in every way. There never has
been anything like it in India, and it is not often that an
action _anywhere_ has lasted thirty-six hours as ours did.
It is called a succession of three engagements, but the
firing never ceased for a quarter of an hour. Infantry
attacking guns was the order of the day, and the loss
occasioned by such a desperate resort was fearful. How
different your Christmas week will have been from mine! This
time last year I was quietly staying at Bisham, and now
sleeping on the banks of the Sutlej, with a sea of tents
around me for miles and miles! The last few days seem a
year, and I can scarcely believe that I have only been four
months in India, and only two with my regiment.
* * * * *
_To the_ Hon. James Thomason, _Lieutenant-Governor of Northwest
Provinces_.
CAMP, BOOTAWALLAH, _January 22d, 1846_.
There is very much in the state of things in this army both
discouraging and deeply disappointing to one who like myself
comes into the service with a strong predilection for the
profession, and a wish to enter into its duties thoroughly
and _earnestly_. I do not like to enter into particulars,
for I hold it very unmilitary, especially in so young a
soldier, to attempt to criticize the acts and motives of
one's superior, but I may _in private_ again express my
extreme disappointment at the state in which the Sepoys are
at present, and as far as I can judge from what is said in
conversation, there are but few officers in the army who do
not deplore it. In discipline and subordination they seem to
be lamentably deficient, especially towards the native
commissioned and non-commissioned officers. On the march, I
have found these last give me more trouble than the men
even. My brother officers say that I see an unfavorable
specimen in the 2d, as regards discipline, owing to their
frequent service of late, and the number of recruits; but I
fear the evil is very wide-spread. It may no doubt be traced
mainly to the want of European officers. This, however, is
an evil not likely to be removed on any large scale.
Meantime, unless some vigorous and radical improvements
take place, I think our position will be very uncertain and
even alarming in the event of extended hostilities. You must
really forgive my speaking so plainly, and writing my own
opinions so freely. You encouraged me to do so when I was at
Agra, if you remember, and I value the privilege too highly
as connected with the greater one of receiving advice and
counsel from you, not to exercise it, even at the risk of
your thinking me presumptuous and hasty in my opinions. I
imagine (in my own defence be it said) that three months of
marching and of service give you more insight into the
_real_ efficiency or evils of an army, than a much longer
time spent in cantonments. It is, of course, a deeply
interesting subject to me, and one of deep and anxious
reflection. I think the period of "doing duty," which I
shall have passed ere joining my future regiment, of the
greatest consequence and benefit, as enabling me to form a
judgment, to the best of my abilities, of the course to be
steered in the difficult voyage. It seems to me that the
great problem to be solved is how "_to do your own
business_," at the same time that "_you study to be quiet_"
_i. e._, how unostentatiously to do your appointed duty
thoroughly, without being deterred by the fear of being
_thought_ over-zealous or ostentatious.
At a later period, when it was proposed to erect a monument in
Lichfield Cathedral to the 80th Queen's, he wrote with reference to
their conduct in this action:--
It is, you know, a Staffordshire regiment, having been
raised originally by the Marquis of Anglesey, and has still
a great number of Staffordshire men in its ranks. It is a
splendid corps, well-behaved in cantonments, and first-rate
in action. I lay between them and my present regiment (1st
E. B. Fusileers) on the night of the 21st of December, at
Ferozeshah, when Lord Hardinge called out "80th! that gun
must be silenced." They jumped up, formed into line, and
advanced through the black darkness silently and firmly;
gradually we lost the sound of their tread, and anxiously
listened for the slightest intimation of their
progress,--all was still for five minutes, while they
gradually gained the front of the battery whose fire had
caused us so much loss. Suddenly we heard a dropping
fire,--a blaze of the Sikh cannon followed, then a thrilling
cheer from the 80th, accompanied by a rattling and murderous
volley as they sprang upon the battery and spiked the
monster gun. In a few more minutes they moved back quietly,
and lay down as before in the cold sand: but they had left
forty-five of their number and two captains to mark the
scene of their exploit by their graves.
* * * * *
CAMP, ARMY OF THE SUTLEJ, _Feb. 12th, 1846_.
The fortune of war has again interfered between me and my
good intentions of answering all my correspondence by this
mail. We have been knocked about for some days so
incessantly that there has been no chance of writing
anything; and even this scrawl, I fear, will hardly reach
you. You will hear publicly of our great victory of the
10th,[2] and of the total and final rout of the Sikh force.
But first, I must tell you that the 2d Grenadiers were sent
back about a week ago to the villages and posts in our rear,
to keep open the communication. Not liking the notion of
returning to the rear while an enemy was in front, I applied
immediately to do duty with another regiment; my petition
was granted; and I joined the 16th Grenadiers on the evening
of the 9th inst. About three in the morning we advanced
towards the Sikh intrenchments along the river's bank. Our
guns and ammunition had all come up a day or two before, and
during the night were placed in position to shell their
camp. At daybreak, seventeen heavy mortars and howitzers,
rockets, and heavy guns commenced a magnificent fire on
their position; at half-past eight the infantry
advanced,--Sir R. Dick's division on the right, and ours
(Gilbert's) in front,--covered by our fire from the
batteries. On we went as usual in the teeth of a dreadful
fire of guns and musketry, and after a desperate struggle we
got within their _triple_ and _quadruple_ intrenchments; and
then their day of reckoning came indeed. Driven from trench
to trench, and surrounded on all sides, they retired,
fighting most bravely, to the river, into which they were
driven pell-mell, a tremendous fire of musketry pouring on
them from our bank, and the Horse Artillery finishing their
destruction with grape. The river is literally choked with
corpses, and their camp full of dead and dying. An
intercepted letter of theirs shows that they have lost
20,000 in killed, wounded, and missing; all their guns
remaining in our hands. I had the pleasure myself of spiking
two guns which were turned on us. Once more I have escaped,
I am thankful to say, unhurt, except that a bullet took a
fancy to my little finger and cut the skin off the top of
it,--a mere pin scratch, though it spoiled a buckskin glove.
I am perfectly well; we cross in a day or two, but I fancy
have done with fighting.
* * * * *
_To his Sister._
LAHORE, _Feb. 27th, 1846_.
In honor of your birthday, I suppose, we crossed the Sutlej
on the 17th, and are now encamped close to old Runjeet
Singh's capital, without a shot having been fired on this
side the river! The war is over: sixty days have seen the
overthrow of the Sikh army, which, when that period
commenced, marched from the spot on which the victors are
now encamped, with no fewer than 100,000 fighting men, _now_
A broken and a routed host,
Their standards gone, their leaders lost.
So ends the tale of the mightiest army, and the best
organized, which India has seen.
I hope you will have got a scrap I wrote after the fight at
Sobraon in hopes it would reach you before the newspapers,
as I have no doubt you were all anxious enough on my
account, and indeed you well might be, for I can hardly
imagine (humanly speaking) how it was possible to go through
that storm of bullets and shot unhurt. I have indeed much to
be thankful for, and I hope I shall not forget the lesson. A
campaign is a wonderful dispeller of false notions and young
imaginations, and seems too stern a hint to be soon
forgotten.
About this time Mr. Thomason says, in a letter to my father:--
"I hear of William constantly from friends in camp, and am glad to
find that he is a great favorite in his regiment. I had some little
fear that his great superiority in age and attainments to those of his
own standing in the army might make him the object of envy and
disparagement. I felt that he had no easy task before him, and that it
would be difficult to conduct himself with discretion and becoming
humility in such a position. He was quite aware of the difficulty when
we talked the matter over at Agra, and I am much pleased to see the
success which has attended his prudent exertions."
LAHORE, _March 4th, 1846_.
The army breaks up now very soon, but I shall be posted
before that. I am trying to get into the 1st European
regiment, now stationed at Umbala, who have just been styled
Fusileers for their distinguished service. It is the finest
regiment in India, with white faces, too, and a very nice
set of officers. I have been brigaded with them all along.
It seems an age since the campaign opened. One _day_ of
fighting such as we have had fastens itself on the memory
more than a year of peaceful life. We must really have a
natural taste for fighting highly developed, for I catch
myself wishing and "asking for more," and grumbling at the
speedy settlement of things, and the prospect of cantonments
instead of field service. Is it not marvellous, as if one
had not had a surfeit of killing? But the truth is, _that_
is not the motive, but a sort of undefined ambition.... I
remember bursting into tears in sheer rage in the midst of
the fight at Sobraon at seeing our soldiers lying killed and
wounded. Don't let any of my friends forget me yet. I have
found a new one, I think, in Major Lawrence,[3] the new
President at this Court, thanks to the unwearying kindness
of Mr. Thomason.
In a letter of the same date to Hon. J. Thomason, the following
sentence occurs:--
I must thank you very much for making me known to Major
Lawrence, from whom I have received every sort of attention
and kindness. I have been very much struck with his
superiority, and freedom from diplomatic solemnity and
mystery, which is rather affected by the politicals and
officials.
* * * * *
CAMP, NUGGUR GHAT, ON THE SUTLEJ, _March 27th, 1846_.
The last returning regiment of the army of the Sutlej
crossed that river yesterday morning, and by to-morrow every
man will have left its banks, on their way to their
stations. It was a most interesting and picturesque sight to
see the army filing across the splendid bridge of boats
constructed by our engineers at this place. So many of the
native corps have been required for the new province and for
the Lahore garrison, that we had hardly any but Europeans
homeward-bound, which gave an additional and home interest
to the passage of the river. Dusty, travel-stained, and
tired, but with that cool, firm air of determination which
is the most marked characteristic of English soldiers,
regiment after regiment passed on, cavalry, artillery, and
infantry in succession, their bands playing quicksteps and
national tunes, as each stepped upon the bridge. To _you_
the sight would have been only interesting; but to those of
us who had seen the same corps three months ago, their
reduced numbers and fearfully thinned ranks told a sadder
tale. Regiments cut down to a third, individual companies
to a fourth or fifth of their former strength, gave a silent
but eloquent reply to the boastful strains of martial music,
and to the stirring influence of the pageant. As each
regiment moved up on this side the river, our fine old chief
addressed a few words of congratulation and praise to each;
they pushed on to their tents, and a genuine English cheer,
caught up and repeated from corps to corps, and a thundering
salute from the artillery, proclaimed the final dispersion,
and bid an appropriate farewell to the army of the Sutlej.
Thus ends my first campaign! To-morrow I march with the 26th
Native Infantry to Umbala, where I hope to be transferred to
the 1st Europeans. I was posted to the 26th a few days ago,
but have not joined yet, as I applied at once for an
exchange. Marching and living in tents is becoming
unpleasantly hot now, and in another fortnight will be very
bad. Yesterday we had a regular storm of wind and dust,
filling everything with sand, and darkening the air most
effectually; one's mouth, eyes, ears, and pockets get filled
with dust; you sit down to breakfast, and your plate is
ready loaded with sand, your coffee is excellently
thickened, and your milk would pass for clotted cream,--but
for the color. Then you get a sheet of paper, and vainly
imagine you're writing, but the sand conceals the last word
you write ere the ink can dry, and your pens split of
themselves with the dryness of the air. In truth, it is next
to impossible to do anything while the storm lasts, for
one's eyes smart and cry with the plenitude of grit; and if
you talk, you are set coughing with eating small stones! Yet
all this is far better than the damp-exhaling heat of
Bengal. Here the ground and air are as dry by night as by
day, and no exhalation poisons the freshness of any wind
that may be stirring.
* * * * *
UMBALA, _April 13th, 1846_.
Here I am once more. I am writing in a comfortable house,
and actually slept in one last night,--the first time I have
eaten or slept under a roof since the 3d of November; and on
the 10th I saw a lady again!
I find General Napier has written to his brother about me.
Scindh has been given over to the Bombay army, so that Sir
Charles can't do anything for me, but still the kindness is
all the same. Unfortunately, the note reached me three days
after Sir Charles left the army to return to Scindh, or I
might have had the pleasure of seeing him and speaking to
him.
* * * * *
CAMP, MORADABAD, ROHILCUND, _April 29th, 1846_.
It is time indeed to be getting under cover, for we have
been in the thick of the "hot winds." This sounds a very
mild word, but you should only just try it! Do you remember
ever holding your face over a stove when it was full of
fire? and the rush of hot air which choked you? Well,
something of that sort, of vast volume and momentum, blowing
what they call at sea "half a gale of wind," comes quietly
up, at first behind a wall of dust, and then with a roar
bursts upon you, scorching you, and shrivelling you up as if
you were "a rose that was plucked." It feels as if an
invisible, colorless flame was playing over your face and
limbs, scorching without burning you, and making your skin
and hair crackle and stiffen until you are covered with
"crackling" like a hot roast pig. This goes on day after day
from about eight or nine o'clock in the morning till sunset;
and, accompanied with the full power of the blazing sun of
India, produces an amount of heat and dryness almost
inconceivable. The only resource is to get behind a tatta
(or wet grass mat) hung up at one of the doors of the tent,
and to lie on the ground with as little motion as possible,
and endeavor to sleep or read it out. _Nunc veterum libris,
nunc somno et inertibus horis_,--I cannot go on, for the
"sweet forgetfulness" of the past is too much to expect!
To-day we have a new nuisance in the shape of a plague of
wood-lice; our camp is pitched in an old grove of
mango-trees, and is literally swarming with huge pale lice,
in numbers numberless. You cannot make a step without
slaying them, and they have already (noon) covered the whole
sides of the tents, chairs, beds, tables, and everything.
But one is really getting used to everything, and I hardly
expect to be _proud_ again. Our rest has been terribly
destroyed by this last month's marching, the usual hour for
the _reveille_ being two A. M., and this morning a quarter
to one!! and no power of quizzing can move our worthy major
to let us take it easily, though I don't scruple to tell him
that he has sold his shadow or his soul to the evil powers,
and forfeited the power of sleep, he is such a restless
animal! We breakfast at seven, or even a quarter past six,
constantly, and dine at seven P. M.; so one has a fair
opportunity of practising abstinence, as I rigidly abstain
from eating in the mean time, or drinking. After all, it is
very healthy weather, and I imagine there is less harm done
to the health in the hot winds than even in the cold
weather. I have never been so well in India.
* * * * *
NYNEE TAL, _May 14th, 1846_.
I am writing from the last new Hill Station, discovered
about three years ago by an adventurous traveller, and now
containing forty houses and a bazaar. It is a "tal," or
lake, of about a mile in length, lying in a basin of the
mountains, about 6,200 feet above the sea; the hills rising
about 1,800 feet on all sides of it, and beautifully wooded
from their very summits down to the water's brink. How I got
here remains to be told. You will remember that I had
applied, some time ago, to be transferred to the 1st Bengal
European Fusileers. Well, after keeping me in suspense some
seven weeks, and sending me the whole way from Lahore to
Bareilly in April and May, I received notice that my
application was granted, and a civil request to go back
again. I had had enough of marching in the plains, and
travelling dak would have been madness for me, so I
determined on going up into the hills, and making my way
across the mountain ranges to Subathoo, where my regiment is
stationed. A good-natured civilian at Bareilly offered to
take me with him to this place, from whence I could make a
good start. We started on the morning of the 11th, and drove
to Rampoor, stayed there till midnight, and then set off for
the hills. By daylight we got to the edge of the "Terai,"
the far-famed hotbed of fever and tigers, swamps and timber,
along the whole ridge of the Himalayas, stretching along the
plains at their feet in a belt of about twenty miles from
the Indus to the Burhampooter. Here we found horses awaiting
us, and, mounting at once, started for a ride of
twenty-seven miles before breakfast. The first part of the
"Terai" is merely a genuine Irish bog, and the oily, watery
ditches and starved-looking cows shout out "Fever," on all
sides of you. The last ten miles, to the foot of the hills,
is through a dense mass of ragged trees in all stages of
growth and decay, "horrida, inculta, hirsuta,"--moist,
unpleasant, and ugly. At length we reached the first low
woody ranges of the hills, and following the dry bed of a
mountain stream, by noon we doubled the last ridge, and
descended upon our lake. None of these hills are to be
compared in beauty with Scotland and Wales, though very
fine, and inexpressibly refreshing, almost _affecting_,
after the dead flat we have lived in so long. As soon as my
servants arrive, I start hence by myself, through an
unfrequented sea of vast mountains, by way of Landour, for
Mussoorie, to Simla and Subathoo. It is about 340 miles, and
will take me thirty-two or thirty-four days to accomplish. I
mean to take no pony, but trust that my old powers of
walking and endurance will revive in the mountain air.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] At Sobraon.
[3] Sir H. Lawrence, K. C. B.