DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
U6 SI 
 
 EXPLANATORY PREFACE. 
 
 I think it is due to this volume to preface it with a few words 
 of explanation, to account for half the book having appeared, 
 some years ago, as the second part of my first publication : 
 From the Hebrides to the Himalayas —a bulky work, illustrating 
 many curiously similar customs and legends, of which I had 
 collected notes in these two far distant countries. 
 
 Having no notion of the relative proportions of handwriting 
 and of print, my manuscript had attained a grievously unwieldy 
 length—a /act, however, which my publishers did not appear to 
 have realised till the greater part of one volume was in print, 
 and till I was on the very eve of sailing for a prolonged resi¬ 
 dence in the Pacific. 
 
 At the last moment came a sudden request for wholesale 
 abridgment ! Doubtless the wiser course would have been to 
 have published “The Hebrides” by itself, leaving the Indian 
 travels intact. But this would have- involved sacrificing my 
 primary idea in connecting the two countries, namely a com¬ 
 parison of their folk-lore ; and as there really was no time for 
 thinking out pros and cons , it seemed simplest to cut the knot 
 by suppressing about half of my Indian manuscript. 
 
 Now, however, that I have started the. Western Isles as a 
 
1 f • 
 
 iv EXPLAN ATOM PREFACE. 
 
 separate volume , 1 it seems well hat my notes on the Eastern 
 Plains and Highlands should appek in their original form. 
 
 For although, in the meanwhile, a flood of Indian literature 
 has made each scene familiar (and guide-books now instruct 
 tourists in the way they should go !), I know that I was unusually 
 favoured in the companionship of men who had lived long in 
 the country, had thoroughly mastered many of its languages, 
 and who took the deepest interest in all questions concerning 
 the people, their religion, and their customs in general. To 
 the unwearied kindness of these good friends I was indebted 
 for many a lesson in the art of observing whatever was best 
 worth studying, in the bewildering mass of novelties which 
 distract the new comer; and also for such clues as enabled me 
 to venture on threading even the outskirts of the perplexing 
 labyrinths of eastern thought. 
 
 1 In the Hebrides. Chatto and Windus. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Facilities of travel have been so rapidly developed within 
 the last ten or twelve years, that a pleasure-trip to India is now- 
 accounted a perfectly simple means of exchanging our wintry fogs 
 for a spell of glorious sunlight—in fact it is simply a question of 
 leisure and lucre. 
 
 And yet it seems but yesterday that my determination to join 
 my sister and her husband in India, and devote a year to mere 
 sight-seeing on a very large scale, was greeted with a chorus of 
 amazement, not only by friends in this country, but by those 
 whose cordial welcome to the Eastern world contributed so 
 greatly to my enjoyment of its wonders. 
 
 These, with one accord, assured me that during their long 
 years of exile in the Indian land, no lady, and very few gentle¬ 
 men, from the old country had ever found their way thither, 
 save as residents, bound by some tie of duty to some special 
 station. 
 
 And no wonder, for swift steamers, and Indian railways, are 
 creations of very recent date, and but for these distance- 
 annihilators, assuredly few would care to face the tedium and 
 trouble of such a journey for mere pleasure. 
 
 Besides, in pre-railway days, the accounts of Anglo-Indian 
 existence were by no means inviting. The occasional glimpses 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 vi 
 
 of gorgeous Orientalism were small compensation for the dreary 
 dulness of station-life on the burning plains all through long 
 summer months, during which the fair fresh Western faces 
 become paler, and more pale, as they lie gasping under the 
 monotonous swing of the punkah, dreading heat-apoplexy, should 
 the weary “ punkah-wallah” fall asleep (as he is only too likely 
 to do), and living from dawn to sunset in such darkness as 
 precludes the possibility of almost any occupation—even reading 
 —while it greatly favours the inroads of every horrible variety 
 of creeping animal life. 
 
 This being the general impression of Indian life, and certainly 
 my own till I found my way thither, it was pleasant to glance at 
 it through a rosier medium, and see how those who have times 
 and seasons at their own disposal, may now visit this wonderful 
 land, and store their minds with its grand pictures without being 
 subject to any of its miseries. For my own part, I can tell of 
 a year of unmitigated enjoyment, during which my “panorama 
 of travel ” carried me over many thousand miles, full of infinite 
 variety, and with no greater trouble or inconvenience than often 
 attends the simplest journey across country (and such mono¬ 
 tonous country !) in Old England. 
 
 After devoting seven months to the glories of the great 
 mountains, and five months to exploring some of the principal 
 cities of the plains, I returned from our Eastern Empire, having 
 seen more of its marvels than almost any old Indian of twenty 
 years’ service, and yet had never felt one day of real heat, 
 and rarely seen a punkah in action. Nor did I there make 
 acquaintance with any species of venomous creature in its wild 
 state, except three harmless snakes, much like those familiar 
 to us on English moors. 
 
 Of course, every one who lands at Calcutta receives the homage 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 vii 
 
 always paid by the mosquito to the new comer; but I never 
 suffered even from these anywhere else. My experience of 
 Indian climate, by dint of judicious locomotion, was to prolong 
 a balmy continuous summer, from one December till the next ; 
 and to this a second and a third might well have been added, 
 always wandering over new ground. 
 
 Perhaps these wanderings gained an additional charm from 
 the aimless, easy-going way in which I found myself drifting 
 from the Western Isles to the Eastern Hills. The only mistake 
 was, drifting homeward in like manner ; and only the rude shock 
 of finding myself once more in the bitter snows of an English 
 spring, awakened me all too quickly from this fascinating dream, 
 to return to the prosaic commonplaces of ordinary life. 
 
 I need scarcely say that in offering to the public the following 
 records of a year’s delightful wanderings, I am well aware that I 
 can now have nothing new to tell, for since they were penned, 
 Royal Princes have visited the land, and many travellers have 
 followed in their wake, and fluent writers have recorded their 
 experiences. So the only excuse for the publication of these 
 pages, is the fact of their being the notes of one who claims the 
 honour of having been a pioneer in these fresh fields of delight — 
 one of the very first to discover the entirely “ new sensation ” 
 of travelling for pleasure in India. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 https://archive.org/details/inhimalayasonind01gord_0 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN CALCUTTA. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The City of Kali—Her Worship—The Doorga-pooja — Sceptical Literature 
 —The Brahm-Somaj—First Morning in Calcutta — Servants — 
 Markets — Native Bazaars — Kites and Adjutants — Vehicles—Calcutta 
 Races — Brown Men and White — Midnight Mass—The Evening 
 Drive—An Indian Dinner Table — Afghan Merchants . . . i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A RAILWAY JOURNEY. 
 
 Dust—A Tame Devil—Sleeping Carriages—Rural Bengal—Pigeon 
 Flying—Night Watches—Pendant Nests—Moorshedabad—Ruined 
 City of Gour . . . . . . . . . . 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MID-WINTER ON THE GANGES. 
 
 The Bhagirathi—Tomb of Sooraj-oo-DowIah—Sacred Jackals—Suicides 
 in Wells—Camp in the Forest—Destruction of Wild Beasts—Pig- 
 Sticking—Allahabad—Station Life—The Old Fort—Asoka’s Pillar 
 —Ancient Hindoo Temple—Railway Bridges—Probyn’s Horse 
 —Truth-compelling Trees—Horse-shoes ..... 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HINDOO PILGRIMS AND LIVING WATERS. 
 
 Water-supply — Three Floly Rivers — Death on the Ganges—Brahmans 
 —The Holy Fair—Yogis-—Barbers—Jewels—Suicides — Cholera 
 Centres—Pilgrimages of Brown Men and White . . . ■ 
 
 82 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CAWNPORE AND LUCKNOW. 
 
 Tin; Well—The Story of Cawnpore—Across the Ganges to Oude— 
 Wolf Nurses—Sham Highlanders—Incongruous House Decorations 
 —The Story of Lucknow ........ 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AGRA. 
 
 History—An Ideal Tomb of pure White Marble—Oriental ICith-and- 
 Kin Love—A Neglected Burial-ground—Beside the River—A Plea 
 for Cremation—Indian Laundries—Akbar’s Harem—His Fort at 
 Agra—Sandal-wood Gates of Somnath—Horse-shoes—Destruction 
 of the Temple of Somnath—Zenana Pavilions—Pearl Mosque— 
 Ruined City of Futteypore Sicri ....... 123 
 
 CPIAPTER VII. 
 
 WAVES OF FAITH ON THE SEA OF TIME. 
 
 The Hindoo Cities of Muttra and Bindrabund—Once Buddhist—The 
 Jains—Worship of Krishna—The Aboriginal Hill Tribes—The Rig- 
 Veda—A Sketch of the Successive Faiths which have prevailed 
 in Hindoostan—Aboriginal—Pure Aryan—These together producing 
 Brahmanism—Origin of Caste—The Holy Food—Ancestor Worship 
 —Buddhism—The Stone Edicts of Asoka—Degenerate Brahmanism 
 —Mohammedanism—Now Toleration of all—Religious Census . 160 
 
 CPIAPTER VIII. 
 
 DELHI. 
 
 The Punjab—Modern Delhi—A Luxurious Camp—The Cashmere Gate— 
 
 The Mutiny—Capture of the Great Mogul—Past History—Skinner’s 
 Church—A Novel Studio—The Great Mosque—The Ancient City— 
 Successive Emperors—Magnificent Tombs—Deep Wells—Homes of 
 the Poor—Broken Earthenware—Fakirs—No Old Dwellings—Stone 
 Observatory—At the Base of the Kootub—A Paradise for Artists— 
 
 The Giant Minaret—Plindoo Columns—The Iron Pillar—“ Dhilli, 
 the Unstable” .......... 201 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MEERUT. 
 
 FACE 
 
 I.ife in a Military Station—The Old Churchyard — A Steadfast Elephant 
 — The Bazaar—Itinerant Tradesmen — Jugglers — Snakes—Native 
 Servants —War of Words, not Blows—Hindoo and Mohammedan 
 Festivals—Monkeys—Sketching in Public — The Roast Beef of Old 
 India—Cathedral at Sirdhana —The Begum Somroo . . . 229 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A GRAND DURBAR. 
 
 Seharanpore—First Sight of the Himalayas—Umballa—Gorgeous Rajahs 
 —Elephants — Camels — Reception of the Ameer — A Durbar — 
 Travelling to the Hills — Indian Post Horses—The Foot-hills— 
 Detention at a Rest-house — The Mountain Battery— A Storm—An 
 Art Critic—Scarlet Rhododendrons—Simla.266 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SIMLA. 
 
 View of the Snowy Range—Life at Simla — Annandale— How to Soothe 
 Babies—Wood-carvers — Thunderstorms — Luminous Plants and 
 
 Insects — Monkeys — Rhododendrons — Itinerant Tradesmen — 
 Cuckoos—Wild Thyme — May-Day—Difficulties of Water-supply . 29S 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CAMP LIFE. 
 
 Start for the Valley of the Sutlej—The Fair in the Mahasso Forest— 
 
 Dress and Jewels of the Paharis—Wilderness of Wild Roses—Sweet 
 Jessamine—Hatto Forest — Divers Altitudes marked by Diversity 
 of Vegetation—Bears—Varieties of Pheasants — Narkunda—An 
 Allegory.322 
 
XU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 UNDER CANVAS. 
 
 Opium Fields—Kotghur Mission Station—Native Christians—Devil 
 Worshippers—Ascent to Thandarh—A Tea Plantation—A Sociable 
 Pariah—Descent from the Temperate Zone to the Tropics—Gorge 
 of the Sutlej—A March under Difficulties—Rampore—A Spoilt 
 Rajah—Rest-house versus Tent—A Plague of Flies—Camp at 
 Gowrah ........ 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE SACRED ARK. 
 
 Wild Apricots—“ So Near and yet so Far ’’—Frugal Highlanders—Spoilt 
 Milk!—Spinning—Sunwise Turns—The Ark of the Mountain 
 Goddess—Sacrifices—Links to Judea—and to Abyssinia—Other 
 Cars—Willows and Water-cresses—A Hateful Forced March—Sir 
 Alexander Lawrence—Cholera—Able-bodied Women—Forest of 
 Poinclah ........... 355 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CEDAR SHADE. 
 
 Mirage—Sungri Forest—Smokers—Cholera—New Arrivals—After the 
 
 Storm—Himalayan Bridges and Roads—Stupendous Cliffs . . 3S2 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 VILLAGES ON THE CLIFFS. 
 
 Scale of Size—Vegetation of Divers Altitudes—A Great Dinner!— 
 Three Mighty Pinnacles—The Mountain Heaven—Villages on Cliffs 
 —Pahari Customs—Polyandry—Goat Caravans—The Snow Line in 
 Europe and Asia—Snow-blindness—Stone-capped Ice Pillars— 
 Cheenee—Pangi—Celtic Brooches—A Study for Murillo—Scarcity 
 of Animal Life—The Yak . . . . . . . . 397 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 xiii 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A PEEP INTO CHINESE TARTARY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prayer Wheels of all Sizes—Water-wheels—Village Wheels—Thibetan 
 Genealogy — Tartar Funerals — Edible Pine—Crossing the Sutlej by 
 a Rope Bridge—A Pleasant Home in the Wilderness — A Deserted 
 Village — Flying Squirrel — A Glorious Forest — Felling Timber 
 under Difficulties ......... 423 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE MIST. 
 
 “ Unprotected Females ” in Ramnee Forest — Fleas !—Noise — Himalayan 
 Collie Dogs — A Dear Dog — Life in the Forests — Thunderstorm — 
 
 Mists—Locusts—Scarlet and Crimson Grain-fields—Rough Night 
 Quarters—Kotghur Mission Station — -Orchard — -Wild Flowers—Tn 
 Hatto Forest—Simla in the Rains—Leeches—Start to Spend a 
 Month at Massourie—Journey to Umballa ..... 459 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FROM UMBALLA TO MASSOURIE. 
 
 Up the Mohan Pass—Dehra Doon—Night March to Massourie—Grand 
 View of the Snowy Range — also of the Plains — Gorgeous Wild 
 Dahlias—The Convent—Romance Shattered-—Military Station at 
 Landour — Customs of the Hill Tribes—Usury and Slavery — Views 
 of the Plains and of the Snowy Range—The Siwalik Range and 
 Giant Fossils—Game ......... 4S0 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM MASSOURIE TO HARDWAR. 
 
 A Sikh Tomb at Dehra Doon — Sikh Tenets and Sacred Books— 
 Ghoorkas—Animal Sacrifices — Dripping Well—-Bamboo, its many 
 Uses—Giant Grasses — Reach Hardwar—Colour of Rivers — Floods 
 — Town of Hardwar — Picturesque People—Sealing up Holy Water 
 —Brass Idols—Architecture — Forest Bungalow .... 49S 
 
xiv 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 IN THE HOLY CITY OF HARDWAR. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Brave Christian—The Telegraph—The Great Canal—The Great Fair— 
 
 A Terrible Catastrophe—Scorpion and Snake Bites—In the Temples 
 —Familiarity with Idolatry—Sacred Pebbles—The Five Daily 
 Services—Sacred Bulls in Marble or Metal—Animals Associated 
 with Divers Gods—A Priest’s Home—A Living Image—A Lovely 
 Island—The Ganges from its Source to the Ocean—Shrine at 
 Gangoutri —'The Town of Kanthal—Night March through the 
 Forest—Adventures—Nynee Tal—Almorah—Darjeeling . .516 
 
 CHAPTER XXTI. 
 
 BENARES. 
 
 The City of Siva—Ancient History—Grotesque Architecture—Temple 
 of Doorga—Of Ganesa—Of Maha-devah—Tables of Money-changers 
 —Sacred Bulls and Peacocks—Sarnath, the Ancient Buddhist City 
 —Benares from the Ganges—Sale of Holy Water—Mud Idols— 
 The Retention of Breath—A Devoutly Spent Day—The Threefold 
 Cord—Manufactured Brahmans—Undermining by the Ganges—Of 
 various Sunwise Turns—The Goddess of Small-pox—The Burning 
 Ghaut—Hindoo Rosaries—Shaving—A Wedding—Zenana Mission 
 
 —Eastern Women—England ... 546 
 
 INDEX. 597 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS 
 
 AND 
 
 ON THE INDIAN PLAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN CALCUTTA. 
 
 The Cityof Kali—Her Worship—The Doorga-pooja — Sceptical Literature — The 
 Brahm-Somaj — First Morning in Calcutta — Servants — Markets—Native 
 Bazaars — Kites and Adjutants — Vehicles—Calcutta Races—Brown Men 
 and White—Midnight Mass—The Evening Drive—An Indian Dinner 
 Table — Afghan Merchants. 
 
 Christmas in Calcutta ! 
 
 How strange it seemed to be shutting out the hot sun and 
 sitting in the cool shade, with doors and windows open, while we 
 thought of all the dear ones at home, round the blazing Yule log ; 1 
 and of the white world that lay outside, and the busy fingers that 
 were twining the evergreens! There were Christmas decorations 
 here too; for the natives dearly love all tokens of feasting, and 
 they place tall plantain leaves and bunches of fruit in the gateways, 
 as symbols of plenty, and hang up wreaths of laurel and Indian 
 jasmine, or strings of small lamps and of those great orange 
 marigolds, which they offer at the shrines of all their gods. 
 
 But of the real message of Christmas, the great mass of the 
 people know little more than they did when on the site of this 
 1 When the sun rises here at 6 a.m. it is just midnight in England. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 great city of palaces, there stood only a wretched village called 
 Kali-ghat, the village of the dread goddess Kali, to whom a 
 draught of warm human blood gives joy for a thousand years. 
 Here grim human sacrifices were offered to her, and here, too, 
 Hindoo mothers of old used to throw their tender babes as dainty 
 morsels to the yawning jaws of crocodiles. 
 
 To the temple of Kali, south of the city, vast multitudes still 
 resort, during the annual holidays known as Doorga-pooja—the 
 worship of Doorga, “ the inacessible one,” by which name, as 
 well as those of Devi, Parvati, and a score of others, Kali is also 
 commonly known. As Devi, “ the bright one,” she is the 
 goddess of robbers and murderers, including the Thugs, who long 
 did her righteous pleasure in strangling unwary travellers. As 
 Parvati, “ the mountaineer,” she is represented as a fair and 
 saintly woman ; as Annapurna, “ the giver of good,” she sits on a 
 water-lily giving rice to mendicants; as the mother of Ganesha, 
 the elephant-headed god of wisdom, she sits enthroned on a lotus 
 blossom with the child in her arms. Under other titles she is 
 worshipped as “the wanton-eyed” Hindoo Venus ; in short, under 
 many aspects of benignity or of terror she meets us at every turn 
 in the complex mythology which is still the dominant feature 
 of all life in Hindostan, the fact being that she and Siva her 
 spouse have absorbed the characteristics of a multitude of other 
 gods, and she is simply the feminine edition of all his attributes ; 
 hence, while he is worshipped as Maha-devah, “ the great god,” 
 she is Maha-devi, “ the great goddess.” 
 
 Nonsensical as we must deem this grotesque mythology, I 
 confess that I greatly marvelled at the contemptuous indifference 
 displayed by the great mass of Europeans to all matters relating 
 to the faith (and practice) of the brown multitudes around them, 
 as to a tissue of puerile fables unworthy of the smallest attention. 
 Yet, considering that we are here in the cradle of two of the most 
 widely-spread faiths of the world (Brahminism and Buddhism), and 
 that the fundamental truths of both had been thought out by men 
 of this self-same race many centuries ere light from the East first 
 dawned on Pagan Britain, it seems strange indeed that any can 
 
THE DAILY SACRIFICE. 
 
 live in India, and yet give no heed to the present development 
 of the said creeds, and their application to the daily lives of 
 about 700,000,000 of our fellow-men in Asia, beginning with 
 193,000,000 in Hindostan, and including all the millions of 
 China, Japan, Thibet, Burmah, Ceylon and all other lands 
 where faith in Buddha still prevails. 
 
 Yet so infinitesimal is the amount of interest bestowed on 
 native customs and traditions, by average foreigners, that an 
 exceedingly small proportion of the inhabitants of Calcutta ever 
 dream of turning aside from their daily routine drive in the 
 European quarter to visit Kali-ghat, the true god-mother or 
 goddess-mother of the great modern city; and yet an early 
 morning in the temple affords a glimpse of the inner life of tire 
 people such as can never be obtained in the European city. 
 
 For day by day, throughout the year, these sacred courts are 
 thronged at early dawn by a most picturesque crowd of worshippers 
 — lightly-draped brown men, closely-veiled bejewelled women, and 
 quaint little brown children brilliantly attired ; and the sun’s rays 
 gleam on blue and orange and scarlet draperies, and are reflected 
 by sparkling jewels—nose-rings, and ear-rings, rings on fingers 
 and toes, silver and gold bangles — and the blaze of sunlight lends 
 additional value to the deep, cool shadow of the temple wherein 
 the white-robed priests move to and fro, presenting the offerings 
 •of the worshippers. 
 
 In the outer court, two forked sticks tell of the daily sacrifice 
 of blood, not necessarily as atonement for the sins of the people, 
 but in order to propitiate the goddess. On these rest the heads of 
 the victims. There is a large fork for the heads of the devoted 
 buffaloes, and a small one for those of sheep and lambs, goats and 
 kids. Every morning at sunrise some victims are here offered, 
 and on special days upwards of a hundred are sacrificed — an 
 offering on so large a scale as to recall far greater sacrifices by 
 Israelitish kings under the Mosaic dispensation. But these are 
 exceptional occasions. 
 
 The ordinary ceremonial is very simple, though deeply sug¬ 
 gestive. Suppose the offering to be a few kids or lambs, the 
 
 B 7 
 
4 
 
 IN 1'IIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 officiating Brahmin lays his left hand on the head of each, 
 marking its horns and forehead with red paint, and repeating a 
 formula of consecration to the goddess. He sprinkles it with 
 water and lays flowers on its head. Then an attendant of the 
 temple seizes each poor little bleating creature by the forelegs, 
 and holding them up over its shoulders, he lays its head in the 
 fork, and a stick is placed so as to keep it steady. Water is 
 then poured over the victim, whose shudder proves that the 
 offering is accepted by the deity. The sacrificial butcher (a big 
 brown man in the very lightest of raiment) then comes forward, 
 with a big curved knife which has been duly consecrated, and 
 chops off the head at a blow. 
 
 When all the victims have been slain, those who have offered 
 them (both men and women) approach, and kneeling on the 
 blood-stained earth, lay their own heads on these rude sacrificial 
 altars, beseeching great Doorga to accept of this offering. Then 
 all the heads are carried sunwise round the altar, and the 
 worshippers—pilgrims from all parts of India—walk sunwise 
 after them, and then make the sunwise circuit of the temple, 
 adoring the goddess. Then the priest marks each worshipper on 
 the forehead with her sacred symbol, and those who can afford it 
 purchase blessed wreaths and garlands of large African marigolds. 
 Thus shriven and adorned, they go forth to the commonplace 
 duties of daily life, while the bodies of the victims are cut up at 
 the temple shambles, and the meat is offered for sale, so that all 
 men may have a chance of feasting on “ things offered to idols." 
 
 The approach to the temple is through a sort of ecclesiastical 
 bazaar, whose multitude of small booths display a wonderful 
 assortment of brazen vessels and idols, including many clay 
 images of most worshipful coiled snakes, with crest upreared; 
 and perchance among the pilgrims may be seen yogis got up to 
 personate the god Siva, their naked bodies smeared with ashes, 
 their faces painted, and living snakes coiled round their necks, 
 one resting on each shoulder, and one on the head, as a hideous 
 substitute for a turban, crowning the unclean, uncombed elf- 
 locks. 
 
A WORSHIPFUL GODDESS. 
 
 5 
 
 Resident yogis busy themselves in combing, brushing, and 
 generally adorning their sacred white cows and oxen, while one 
 devotes himself to the care of holy monkeys, of all ages and sizes, 
 which come trooping down at his call to accept offerings of food, 
 gabbling and chattering, while rapidly, with both hands, collecting 
 the scattered grain. He speaks to them as to his children, and a 
 chorus of holy apes and monkeys reply, and come boldly up to 
 snatch sugared cakes from his hand. They fight and scramble, 
 they play tricks each to his neighbour, pull one another’s tails, 
 and generally behave in a manner by no means calculated to 
 foster feelings of reverence in their worshippers. 
 
 Indeed it is difficult to conceive how the goddess herself can 
 inspire reverential awe in her votaries. One would even think 
 that it must all be lost in disgust. As Kali “ the black” she is 
 generally represented with a black face, and her tongue hanging 
 out, looking just like those Chinese pugs, whom I always feel 
 inclined to call by her name. She is said to have been so blood¬ 
 thirsty, and to have slain such myriads of victims, that in her frenzy 
 of delight she danced upon their bodies, till her own husband, 
 Siva the Destroyer, was sickened by the sight, and (devising how 
 he might check her), he left his place among the gods, and lay 
 down with the slain. Suddenly she perceived him under her 
 feet, and in the shock of horror thrust out her tongue, and could 
 never draw it back again. 
 
 In spite of occasional little ebullitions of temper, she seems to 
 Have been a wife after Siva’s own heart, for when in an evil hour 
 she died, her disconsolate spouse roamed to and fro upon this 
 earth, carrying her lovely corpse upon his head, and refusing 
 to be comforted, till at length the other gods in pity interfered, 
 and cutting up the body into fifty-one parts, distributed them 
 throughout India, where each part became thenceforth a centre of 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 She is sometimes represented as a ghastly skeleton, her hair 
 •entwined with serpents, and the mystic cobra raising his hood as 
 a protecting canopy above her. Sometimes her whole body is 
 wrapped round with endless strings of skulls, in fact a necklace of 
 
6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 these is an invariable adornment of her images. She wears dead 
 bodies as ear-rings; and holds in her various hands, heads 
 dripping with gore, a cup overflowing with blood, and divers 
 weapons. 1 Sometimes she is represented with four arms, some¬ 
 times -with twelve, and is invariably smeared with the blood of 
 her victims. A lovable goddess truly, to be Calcutta’s guardian 
 saint! Yet this image of grotesque horror is the most popular 
 object of worship in Eastern Bengal. 
 
 Her great festival, called the Doorga-pooja, i.e. worship of 
 Doorga, occurs in the end of September, and lasts nine nights, 
 during which all business ceases, even in Government offices, and 
 Christians and Mohammedans rejoice in their holidays as much 
 as the Hindoos themselves. Among the latter, every family who 
 can afford it, provides an image of the goddess varying in size 
 from a few inches to twenty feet in height. These are made of 
 clay or wood, and gaudily painted. Each image is solemnly 
 consecrated by the Brahmans, who pray that the spirit of Doorga 
 may descend and dwell in this form. Then during several days 
 it receives solemn worship, washings and offerings, and incessant 
 prayer ; while the worshippers prostrate themselves in the dust, 
 lying at full length, so that their feet, thighs, hands, breast, 
 mouth, nose, eyes, and forehead may all simultaneously touch the 
 earth. 
 
 Then succeed dancing and revelling, until midnight, when 
 divers animals are solemnly sacrificed ; the head of each being of 
 necessity severed at one blow, else dire disaster will ensue. The 
 
 1 The twelve weapons of Doorga are each severally invoked in a sort of 
 litany, of which each sentence begins with the most holy word Om, which is 
 the concentrated essence of all worship, both in Brahminism and in Buddhism. 
 
 Om to the sword, the sharp-edged chastiser, Thee I adore, O Lord. 
 
 Om to the trident, destroyer of our enemies, Thee I adore, O Lord. 
 
 Om to the arrow, the javelin, the thunderbolt, the club (addressed severally 
 to each), Thee I adore, O Lord. 
 
 Om to the bow, propeller of the arrow, defend us and bless us, O Lord. 
 
 Om to the noose, the goad, the shield, the bell, and the axe, defend us 
 and bless us, O Lord. 
 
 The goad is worshipped as being, in the hand of the goddess, “ Lord of the 
 Elephant.” (See Indian Arts, by Sir George Birdwood ) 
 
THE FESTIVAL OF DOORGA-POOJA. 
 
 7 
 
 flesh of the creatures thus sacrificed may be eaten by all. It is 
 whispered that even the Brahmins sometimes partake of it, this 
 however, is denied. These sacrifices are offered in the courts of 
 private houses, and the heads and blood are then carried into an 
 inner hall, and ranged in presence of the idol, each head being 
 surmounted by a lighted lamp. 
 
 When atonement has thus been made for the grosser sins of 
 the people, a small altar is erected and sprinkled with clean dry 
 sand, whereon are offered flowers, rice, clarified butter, and sweet 
 grass, which, being burnt with fire, are supposed to cleanse the 
 worshippers from all remaining sin. 
 
 On the last great day of the feast, the Brahmins formally 
 unconsecrate the images, and with divers ceremonies, dismiss 
 the dread goddess from her multitudinous abodes, which being no 
 longer holy, are then carried to the banks of the Ganges amid 
 wild rejoicings. The images are broken into a thousand pieces, 
 and the fragments are tossed into the holy river, after which the 
 ousy mercantile city resumes its ordinary round of daily life. 
 
 The annual sums expended on this festival in Calcutta alone 
 used to be calculated at half a million of our money. It seems, 
 however, as if the worship of Doorga was on the wane, even in 
 this her own especial city; for whereas a very few years ago, five 
 thousand of her images were annually made in Calcutta at the 
 time of her great festival, now scarcely one thousand are sold. 
 The greatest falling off of her adherents seems to have taken place 
 in a recent year of terrible famine, when her patronage was found 
 sadly worthless in time of need. Nevertheless she still receives 
 her sacrifices of blood; the great sacrificial knife lies before her 
 shrine, ready to immolate whatever victims are brought to her 
 temple; and on the great feasts, hundreds of goats and buffaloes 
 are slain, and her altars reek with their blood. 
 
 These sacrifices are sometimes offered by the poorest of the 
 people, who out of their wretched penury scrape and hoard every 
 farthing they can by any means accumulate, that they may at length 
 be able to bring to the temple an offering worthy of acceptance. 
 We were told of the case of one man whose earnings were only 
 
s 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 twelve shillings a month. By dint of supporting his own existence, 
 and that of his wife and children, exclusively on rice and a little 
 curried fish, he contrived in the course of his life to devote 50/. 
 to the sendee of Doorga, as being the one thing needful, for the 
 sake of which he and his family were content to deprive them¬ 
 selves of all that most men would deem necessaries of life. Ho-w- 
 ever hard pressed they might be, nothing could induce them ever 
 to touch the money laid aside for her. 
 
 This particular instance was mentioned to us as the type of a 
 vast number of the poor Hindoos, whose man-ellous self-denial 
 in the service of their gods does certainly put our self-indulgent 
 practice of Christianity to the blush. 
 
 No one who studies the creed and practice of this race with 
 unbiassed mind, can fail to be struck with their intense earnest¬ 
 ness in living up to teaching which, however distorted, has in it 
 rich veins of thought—perverted forms of the very doctrines which 
 we deem most sacred. Thus, as the Christian is taught to recog¬ 
 nise the indwelling of a Divine Presence, and to reverence his 
 own body as being the Temple of God, so the Hindoo likewise 
 recognises the sanctity of his whole body, because of indwelling 
 deities, for w T hose sake he must guard against any ceremonial 
 defilement. As he is bound to honour many gods, he localises 
 their dwelling-place. Hence he believes that Brahma the Supreme 
 deigns to dwell in his head: Siva (Maha-devah) sits enthroned in 
 the palm of his hand: Vishnu in certain fingers : and so every 
 part of his body is consecrated by the presence of the gods. 
 
 So too, although we Christians are taught that, “whether we 
 eat or drink or whatsoever we do, we should do all to the glory of 
 God,” I think it can scarcely be a transgression of charity to 
 judge that comparatively few habitually obey this precept, whereas, 
 the most casual observer cannot fail to see that in the daily life of 
 the average Hindoo, this is the ruling principle. In the preparation 
 of his food, in bathing, eating, drinking—each act that is done 
 or left undone—none is too trifling to be endowed with religious 
 significance, and dedicated to the gods. From the very earliest 
 stage of his being (when the Hindoo mother attends religious 
 
A DEEPLY RELIGIOUS RACE. 
 
 9 
 
 rites on behalf of her unborn child) until the final hour when his 
 body is committed to the flames of the funeral pyre, each detail is 
 regulated with reference to the invisible celestial rulers. 
 
 There certainly can be no doubt that the apparent indifference 
 in religious externals which characterises the white race, as dis¬ 
 tinguished from these very earnest brown men, must be a very 
 serious stumbling-block in the way of their conversion to the 
 faith nominally professed by white men. 
 
 They say (and not without reason) that, whereas they, the 
 Hindoos, Mohammedans and Parsees, cease not to observe rigid 
 fasts, and to live every hour of their lives by strict rule and in 
 solemn observance of their fate, the English alone appear utterly 
 unconcerned about anything, save food and rupees. Even our 
 attendance on forms of worship one day in seven, they perceive to 
 be of the most easy-going character, save when it ranks as a 
 military duty; and external reverence in daily life was never a 
 marked characteristic of the British. Of course a multitude of 
 their educated men know much of the teaching and spirit of 
 Christianity, and marvel that it should have so little visible in¬ 
 fluence on practice. 
 
 They read our sacred Book, and therein find commands to 
 “ show gentleness to all men,”—commands which too many 
 obviously apply only to such as have not one drop of coloured 
 blood. Then they find perpetual injunctions to self-denial and all 
 holiness of life; and, I fear, we scarcely let our light shine before 
 the heathen in these matters. They believe Sabbatical observance 
 to be binding on us, and see that Sunday is the favourite day for 
 travelling, sport, and other things that entail vast labour on the 
 many; and so with a thousand other things. One who had been 
 long in India and had thought much on this matter, told me that 
 he was sure no missionaries would ever make many converts 
 among the natives till they could rouse the mass of English to a 
 life of Christian devotion as earnest as is that of the Hindoos to 
 the oppressive and never-ending service required by their many 
 gods. 
 
 At present the prominent aspect of Christianity to the native 
 
IO 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 mind is that of a faith which allows its votories to eat unclean 
 meat at all times, and do their own will in all things. I have 
 often been positively assured by Hindoos, remarkable only for 
 their roguery, that they were Christians, being willing to eat any 
 meat, and drink any fermented liquor we liked to give them ! 
 
 The last clause is a particularly painful one, for, whereas the 
 world has never produced a more sober race than the people of 
 India, while obedient to their own religious teaching, there is no 
 doubt that the example of foreigners has done much to awaken 
 the craving for drink. An English clergyman who worked in 
 India for thirty years, has stated his conviction (as regards the 
 good and evil of foreign intercourse) that for every Hindoo con¬ 
 verted to Christianity by the missionaries, the drinking practices of 
 the English have made a thousand drunkards. Chunder Sen, too, 
 tire great native reformer, has told us of the bitter wail of Indian 
 widows and orphans, who curse the British Government for the 
 introduction of licensed arrack-taverns. 
 
 As regards the more intellectual men, it is said that the unbelief 
 of Europeans is the chief stumbling-block in their path, and that 
 there are no sceptical books of any note published in the West, 
 especially those of a philosophical nature, which do not find free 
 circulation in India, where, being looked upon as types of 
 European thought, they carry more weight than is their due. 
 Consequently a vast number of the more thoughtful natives 
 believe that Christianity is on the wane, having been proved by 
 white men themselves to be false ! 
 
 But lest such grievous error should not of itself spread fast 
 enough, there are emissaries of evil in the spiritual world as in the 
 physical: and just as these busy themselves in advancing the work 
 of civilisation by the aid of dynamite and infernal machines, so 
 do the promoters of free-thought in England and America make 
 it their business to send to India large consignments of all 
 manner of infidel publications, carefully selected to suit the tastes 
 of the students at the colleges, and other educated natives. 
 
 And so well has the poison worked, that some of the wealthiest 
 of these have even formed an association for the promotion of 
 
CIRCULATION OF SCEPTICAL BOOKS. II 
 
 atheism, and for the gratuitous distribution of atheistic publications 
 among such students as are too poor to purchase this precious 
 literature for themselves. The head-quarters of this association 
 are at Madras, but there is reason to fear that its influence is far- 
 reaching, and it is further spread in Southern India by the regular 
 issue of three English and Tamil free-thought journals publishing 
 lists of the English sceptical publications on sale at their offices 
 and elsewhere. 
 
 Calcutta lias naturally proved a rich field for these zealous 
 labourers in the cause of evil, who here publish a monthly 
 journal purposely “to expose the absurdities of the Chiistian 
 faith.” Though English is so well known by the educated 
 Hindoo, that the circulation of these works in the original might 
 very well have satisfied less aggressive opponents, the mischief has 
 recently been enormously increased by the translation of some of 
 the most popular infidel books and pamphlets into the languages 
 of the people, and these have been printed for general cir¬ 
 culation in various parts of Bengal and the North West 
 Provinces. 
 
 Thus has the first of all educational agencies—the printing 
 press — -been enlisted by the adversaries of Christianity; and 
 though its advocates are now awakening to the necessity of 
 vigorous effort in spreading their counter influence by the same 
 penetrating agency, the poison has been widely sown and goes far 
 to account for the fact, which would otherwise be so perplexing, 
 namely, that the vast mass of Hindoos educated in Christian 
 schools have hitherto become practically infidels, retaining their 
 idol temples to please the women, and probably accompanying 
 them there, but quite ready to laugh at the whole system of 
 absurdity, yet without the smallest leaning to Christianity. To 
 them in truth, this has been “ an age of iight—light without love,” 
 which has simply freed them from the restraint of any creed or 
 moral law; and so it comes to pass that the clever Bengalee 
 baboos are as a general body notoriously the most irreligious class 
 to whom this nineteenth century has given birth. 
 
 It has been suggested, however, that some such dark valley 
 
12 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of unbelief does lie between every old religion of a noble type, and 
 Christianity, when the lamps which lighted the darkness of past 
 generations have burnt out, and the more perfect light of day has 
 not yet dawned. 
 
 Of late years, a new light has dawned on the Indian horizon— 
 a movement from within—the awakening conscience of India’s 
 own sons, feeling for some better state of things; as yet they 
 know not what. But that the effect of Western education and 
 Western thought is seething in the Eastern mind is certain, and it 
 may be that the leaven now working will work, till the whole 
 is leavened and some strange reformation is brought about. 
 The new sect is called the Brahm-Somaj, or worship of the 
 Supreme. Its members adore one God and profess to be for 
 ever seeking Light, from whatever source it may reach them, 
 whether from the Hindoo Vedas, the Koran, or the Bible. As 
 yet they are strongly opposed to Christianity, and one of their 
 number, who embraced it, found himself subjected to more 
 serious persecution than seemed quite consistent with free thought. 
 However, when it was suggested to some of them that they were 
 undoubtedly tending thereto, their reply was, “ Possibly—we 
 cannot tell to what we may be led.” 
 
 The account of the opening of their church in Calcutta reads 
 like that of a revival meeting in Britain. From dawn till night 
 the services continued almost without intermission. Hearty con¬ 
 gregational singing was followed by fervent and eloquent preaching, 
 and prayers were offered literally with “ strong crying and tears.” 
 The various new members were admitted to the church by a rite 
 somewhat akin to baptism. In fact, such forms as they adopt are 
 mostly borrowed from Christianity, while Scriptural phraseology is 
 freely used, though apparently without accepting its full meaning. 
 Many of our most beautiful hymns have been adapted by them to 
 their own use, by omitting all specially Christian allusion. Thus 
 our evening hymns, “ Abide with me,” and “ Glory to thee,” are 
 commonly sung with the alteration of one line in each. 
 
 This sect is a development and offshoot from one which was 
 founded in the beginning of this century by Rajah Rammohun 
 
THE BRAHM-SOMAJ. 
 
 13 
 
 Roy, who has been described as the Luther of Brahminical 
 Catholicism ; a clever man and a deep thinker. Having in very 
 early life revolted against the whole monstrous system of idolatry, 
 and having detected for himself how utterly modern Brahminism 
 is at variance with the monotheistic teaching of the Vedas, he 
 translated an ancient Sanskrit abstract of these for gratuitous 
 circulation among his own countrymen. He also published it in 
 English. His power of acquiring languages was remarkable. As 
 each new phase of religious thought presented itself to his mind, 
 he set himself to learn the language in which its sacred books 
 were written, that he might be fully competent to judge for 
 himself. Thus, having first mastered the Sanskrit, which opened 
 to him all treasures of ancient Brahminical thought, he next 
 studied Pali that he might study the Buddhist Scriptures. Arabic 
 unlocked the Koran, and Hebrew the Jewish Scriptures. A 
 knowledge of Persian facilitated the study of the teaching of 
 Zoroaster. To Hindustani and Bengalee he added a colloquial 
 knowledge of English and French ; to these he added Latin, and 
 in later life began the study of Greek that he might read the 
 New Testament in the original. Amongst his writings is one 
 called “ The precepts of Jesus, the Guide to Peace and Happiness,” 
 chiefly consisting of selections from the New Testament. In 1830 
 the first Hindoo Unitarian Church was opened in Calcutta, and 
 Rammohun Roy, invited the attendance of all who believed in 
 the Unity of God, whether Christians or Unitarian Hindoos or 
 Mohammedans. This was the first meeting for public and 
 united worship ever held by Hindoos, whose own religion is 
 essentially one of solitary worship, each man by himself irrespective 
 of his neighbours. Soon after having seen this practical result of 
 his preaching, this great reformer was sent to England by 
 the king of Delhi, to state certain grievances, and here he died in 
 1833, and was buried at first in a garden, and afterwards in a 
 cemetery at Bristol, having apparently sacrificed all Hindoo 
 prejudice in favour of burning. 
 
 His mantle descended on Baboo Khesub Chunder Sen, a name 
 now familiar to this country, where his earnest and eloquent 
 
IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 14 
 
 lectures won vast sympathy from all who care to follow the 
 groping of human minds in search for truth ; though it does 
 seem open to question why one who was supposed to come to 
 England to learn, should forthwith have assumed the position of 
 a teacher! 
 
 The Brahm-Somaj now have large churches in Calcutta, Allaha¬ 
 bad, and the other chief cities. The women are said to have 
 meetings by themselves, as, of course, none but the lowest caste 
 would appear in public, and there is no use in hurrying matters— 
 when the fruit is ripe it will fall of itself. And though this move¬ 
 ment is the declared foe to caste, the prejudice against allowing 
 women to be seen is too great to be overcome. To such an 
 extent is it carried that during a year’s residence in India, I am not 
 conscious of having ever set eyes on a native lady, not even the 
 wife of a respectable tradesman. 
 
 The Brahm-Somaj also strongly condemns polygamy, and the 
 custom of marrying children, and other Hindoo practices ; more 
 especially the perpetual seclusion of widows, some of whom have 
 actually ventured on re-marriage. And men born in high castes 
 have not scrupled to marry wives from the very lowest castes, and 
 even widows, without any dire grief befalling them. The mere 
 fact of crossing the sea, “ the black water,” as they call it, would 
 effectually destroy whatever of their caste remained, and this it was 
 which they encouraged their leader to do in coming to England. 
 The said leader, however, subsequently fell greatly in the 
 estimation of his followers, by sacrificing his principles to his 
 ambition, in bestowing the hand of his child-daughter, a girl of 
 thirteen, on the young Maharajah of Cooch-Behar, aged fifteen, 
 when the customary idolatrous ceremonial was duly observed. 
 
 But it is high time I should return to the record of my first 
 impressions of life in the great Anglo-Indian capital. 
 
 The first few days in an Indian home do indeed seem strange 
 to every new-comer from Europe. The extreme publicity of life in 
 those large rooms, each having access to the other by many doors 
 which invariably stand open to admit free currents of air, veiled 
 only by heavy purdahs (or curtains) from behind which swift, 
 
FIRST MORNING IN INDIA. 
 
 13 
 
 silent, barefooted attendants suddenly appear, and as noiselessly 
 vanish again, like white-robed ghosts. Some one has described an 
 Indian bedroom as “a section of a street with a bed in it! ” an 
 account which I recognised as true to the letter, when first awakened 
 at about 5 a. m. — i.e. before sunrise—by seeing a couple of bearers 
 bringing in lamps, and a curious-looking bheestie , or water-carrier, 
 filling my bath from a black buffalo skin ; another man bringing 
 hot water, and a fourth with chota hazeri , or small breakfast of 
 tea and fruit. Such an awakening seemed in truth like a bit of 
 some curious dream of Arabian Nights. How to proceed with the 
 mysteries of a morning toilette was really a serious consideration 
 with all these brown beings flitting about, and always appearing 
 when least expected. Before I was half dressed, in came another 
 relay to tuck up the mosquito curtains, and stood salaaming in 
 solemn silence, waiting for orders, which of course I was unable 
 to give, so could only stare at them admiringly. 
 
 As there was no lady in the luxurious home of the “ merchant 
 prince” who so hospitably welcomed me on my first landing in 
 India, there were no ayahs, or waiting-women, in attendance, which 
 accounted for all these masculine apparitions, whereat my English 
 maid was even more bewildered than I was myself, though life on 
 board ship had accustomed us pretty well to sudden incursions 
 of stewards and quarter-masters. Nor was it very long before she, 
 like a good many white women, learnt to look on all men of colour 
 as mere lay figures, whose sole purpose in life was to wait her 
 good will and pleasure in all things. The number with whom she 
 very soon contrived to share the charge of my sister’s two small 
 children, would puzzle most nurses. Not that her attendants were 
 limited to brown men. She was a damsel of calm and comely 
 presence, who seemed born for life in the tropics, inasmuch as she 
 grew daily more fresh and rosy. Soon her fame went forth, and 
 the notion of allowing such an unappropriated blessing to return 
 to Britain was too much for the many sergeants and clerks and 
 other officials, whose chances of wives depend on waiting for some¬ 
 body’s widow, or marrying a half-caste, or a soldier’s orphan from 
 the Lawrence Asylum. So it came to pass that from distant 
 
i6 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 stations came letters from men well-to-do, stating their exact 
 circumstances, the number of their rupees, various advantages 
 in the way of carriages and servants, and the date at which they 
 could take leave of absence and come to fetch her, should she 
 honour them with her hand. I should be afraid to state how 
 many such were kept in play like juggler’s balls, and how many 
 photographs were sent to and fro. For the credit of the sex, I 
 must add that she refused to leave us till we were safely landed in 
 England, when she returned to marry the poorest of the lot, but 
 one whom she had seen and cared for. 
 
 The photograph system is largely practised. Men in out-of- 
 the-way stations send theirs to some milliner’s shop at Simla or 
 Calcutta, and the shopwoman shows it to all her friends. Sooner 
 or later she sends him one in return, and, should he be satisfied, 
 he comes to fetch his bride. One of our neighbours lost her maid 
 in this way. In short, the exportation of English servants is an 
 expensive risk, and few degrees less troublesome than employing 
 native ayahs, an article of which, I am happy to say, we had small 
 experience. They are for ever prowling about, watching your 
 every action, and immediately retailing it, with additions, in the 
 bazaar. Few, if any, of them can do a stitch of sewing. All 
 your work and their own must be done by a dirzd or tailor—who 
 sits in the open verandah, mending clothes or making ball dresses 
 for the amusement of all comers. 
 
 Of the multitude of servants entailed by the extraordinary 
 subdivision of labour consequent on caste, I need not tell you. 
 You know that it takes one man to set your bath, a second to fill 
 it, and a third to empty it. And as with the servant, so with the 
 master, the rule of life seems to be, never to do anything for your¬ 
 self that you can possibly induce any one else to do for you. Thus 
 no man dreams of shaving himself, but calmly sits in his verandah, 
 trustfully resigning his throat to one of “ those niggers ” — while it 
 is currently reported that young England will not even put on his 
 own stockings ! 
 
 Probably one-third of your household are Mohammedans, whose 
 sole distinguishing mark is that they button the breast of their 
 
VISIT TO THE MARKETS. 
 
 17 
 
 linen vest on the right side instead of the left, or vice-versa. All 
 who are in any way connected with cooking or serving your food 
 must, of necessity, be Mohammedan, to avoid the defilement of 
 touching beef or fowls. How they answer to their consciences 
 for cooking bacon I do not know; but they reserve the right of 
 loathing us for eating it and other abominable things, and look 
 upon us as altogether gross and self-indulgent—and perhaps on the 
 latter point they are not far wrong ! 
 
 To return to our first morning in Calcutta. As new-comers 
 we were bound to take the older inhabitants out sight-seeing, so 
 we commenced at daybreak by going the round of the noisy 
 markets, which, however, seemed to me less picturesque than those 
 of Egypt. However, the fruit-market was attractive, and we 
 experimentalised on all manner of things unknown—custard- 
 apples and guavas, and various other fruits, good and bad. The 
 game-market was also a point of interest, the supply of snipe, 
 quail, floriken, chickore, black partridge, wild geese, wild duck, 
 teal, ortolans, and such like, seeming unlimited, the countless 
 wide mouths of the river, and the jheels, or swampy lakes, so 
 numerous in the neighbourhood, being the favourite haunts of all 
 manner of water-fowl, and a fruitful source of fever to the sports¬ 
 men. We next turned to the fish-market, where divers unknown 
 fish and far-famed Hoogly prawns, fattened on the deceased 
 Hindoo, were duly pointed out to us. 
 
 There was amusement in the mere fact of listening to all the 
 people talking their unknown tongue, which, however, is anything 
 but musical, for the gentlest conversation in Hindostanee always 
 sounds as if people were quarrelling violently. Should you 
 hear one man giving directions to another, you would think he 
 was administering sharp rebukes, while a wrangle over a few 
 copper pice produces a deafening Babel. 
 
 One thing that attracted our notice was the peculiar form of 
 greeting among the people, whose morning salutation is invariably 
 in the name of God. Two Mohammedans will commend one 
 another to Allah—two Hindoos to Ram, Ram (i.e., to Rama, who, 
 like Krishna, was an incarnation in human form of Vishnu. Both 
 
 c 
 
glittering in the sun, piled one above the other. Perhaps one grace¬ 
 ful arm, adorned with many bangles, is raised on high to steady the 
 topmost lota, while the other encircles a quaint brown baby, sitting 
 astride the maternal hip. A very noteworthy figure is the water- 
 carrier, the lean, lanky, almost naked bheestie, who is accompanied 
 by a large-horned bull, bearing two great water-skins, which are 
 simply buffalo-hides sewn up and resembling huge leather bottles. 
 Holding one of these by the neck, he sprinkles a glittering 
 water-shower to lay the dust on the parched roads, scattering 
 
 1 8 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 are beloved of the people, but Rama is the god to whom most 
 turn in the hour of death). 
 
 The impression of delightful novelty of this, my first impres¬ 
 sion of native life in India, remains indelibly stamped on my 
 memory, as a new revelation of light and shade, form and colour. 
 The ever-moving throng of picturesque individuals, each one a 
 study for an artist—some loaded with fruit, some with sugar¬ 
 cane ; graceful women bearing on their heads one, two, perhaps 
 three, highly polished brazen water vessels —lotas they are called— 
 
THE “ EAST AND WEST END.” 19 
 
 the tame pigeons and crows, which alight so fearlessly among the 
 people. 
 
 Wherever we turn, there are new combinations of colour and 
 sunlight, blue sky, green foliage, cream-coloured houses and 
 clear-cut shadows, with groups of brown mortals either robed in 
 dazzling white, or almost devoid of all garments. Richer folks 
 drive in indescribable little carriages with scarlet canopy, called 
 “ ekka,” being drawn by one pony, or else in large-wheeled 
 carriages drawn by horned oxen, and containing whole family 
 parties of women and children veiled and draped in silk and 
 satin, sparkling with spangles, embroidery and jewels, and only 
 revealing tantalising glimpses of magnificent black hair and eyes, 
 pearly white teeth, and rich brown skin. 
 
 The said rich brown hue is naturally the most impressive 
 feature of all. It is so curious to find oneself in a great crowd 
 all of the same general tone of colour, only varying in tinge 
 according to caste, from the clear olive of the Brahmin to the 
 dark brown of the lower castes, but all alike, with fine silky dark 
 hair and dark eyes. It would seem as if the European races 
 alone were distinguished by infinite shades of colour : hair varying 
 from flaxen to black, eyes from light blue to grey, to deepest 
 brown. I only saw two exceptions to the invariable dark eyes of 
 India; namely a blue-eyed Himalayan girl and a man, and very 
 odd and unnatural they looked. 
 
 It is not necessary to go far off the beaten track to see native 
 life in all its simplicity, for just behind Chowringhee (the “West 
 End ” where the merchant princes live in luxurious houses) lies 
 the Black Town, whose squalor and poverty contrast with the 
 wealth of the great streets as strangely as Seven Dials with 
 Belgravia. It is a place of dingy, narrow, irregular alleys, with 
 huts of baked mud or twisted bamboo. The inmates (all but 
 naked) squat basking in the hot dust, like beings of a different 
 world from those who are driving up and down the Maidan in 
 latest Parisian toilettes, or radiant with white linen and richest 
 gold-brocaded silks. 
 
 Poor as they are, both they and their homes are scrupulously 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 clean—for here cleanliness does not rank next to godliness, it is 
 an essential of religion, and the purity of the kitchen must be 
 unsullied. Of course ideas on this subject may differ, and 
 irreverent foreigners are apt not to appreciate the purifying 
 qualities of sacred cow-dung—the sovereign cleanser from all stain 
 whether spiritual or physical. My attention was called to the fact 
 that many of the rude mud floors were ornamented with elaborate 
 geometrical patterns, drawn with red clay—a mode of decoration 
 in which the women excel, and which they patiently renew 
 every morning after washing the floor. Curious — is it not?— 
 to find these Eastern women giving to their house-cleaning the 
 identical finishing touch still practised by many a “ gudewife ” in 
 Scotland. On Speyside and near Forres, in Galloway, Ayr, and 
 Stirlingshire, almost the same patterns, though less elaborate, 
 may be seen traced on the cottage floor with red bathbrick or 
 pipeclay. 
 
 Another link to some remote corners of Scotland is the hand- 
 mill, consisting of two circular stones, the lowest of which is 
 fixed in the earth, while the upper one works on a pivot by means 
 of a handle. The grain is poured in at the central hole, and 
 works its way out at the edges in flour. Each family thus grinds 
 its own corn, two women working at a time. It is exactly the 
 old quern of Scotland, still to be found in some of the far 
 isles. 
 
 This vision of home is quickly dispelled by the Babel which 
 surrounds us. The cries of the kites are drowned by the constant 
 clamour of the bazaar, and loud voices bargaining for infinitesimal 
 coin. Others are beating cymbals and tomtoms in honour of 
 their gods, and the atmosphere is tainted with a general smell of 
 ghee and rancid oil, with the heavy smoke peculiar to the fuel of 
 the country, which is simply dried cow-dung. The said ghee 
 is a sort of butter, prepared by boiling, curdling, and churning 
 milk till it becomes rancid, when it is packed in jars. These, on 
 being opened, emit a vile effluvia, but are nevertheless hailed as 
 a dainty, fragrant and delicious as a German Sauerkraut , and 
 equally delectable for external or internal use ! So the height of 
 
RELIGIOUS TOOTH-POLISHING. 
 
 I 
 
 native bliss is to be well smeared with this compound, and then 
 to sit in the sun drinking small cupfuls of it. 1 
 
 The immense number of stalls for sweetmeats is among the 
 most striking peculiarities of a native bazaar. The consumption 
 thereof must be tremendous, to say nothing of the quantity of 
 sugar-cane, which old and young seem to munch whenever they 
 are not chewing a horrid compound of areca nut and lime, rolled 
 up in a green leaf of the betel pepper, which stains the mouth of 
 a hideous brick-dust colour. This unpleasant habit greatly mars 
 the beauty of the invariably strong well-conditioned teeth, which 
 show to such advantage when the betel is replaced by sugar-cane. 
 Then every mouth alike displays rows of such dazzling ivory as 
 most Europeans might well envy. Surely there can be no work 
 for dentists in India ! 
 
 In truth, every Hindoo bestows infinite care on his teeth, which 
 he polishes vigorously with a soft flat stick, about the width of a 
 finger. This is an important religious action, and must be pre¬ 
 ceded by ceremonially rinsing the mouth on awakening. As you 
 pass through a native town in the early morning, it seems as if the 
 whole population had turned out of their houses to perform this 
 part of their toilet in public, and such an amount of scraping and 
 polishing goes on, that you marvel how any enamel is left. They 
 consider our use of tooth-brushes to be among our many unclean 
 practices, inasmuch as we do not have new ones daily; for the 
 touch of saliva is deemed utterly polluting. So they spit on the 
 all-cleansing earth, and having scraped both teeth and tongue, the 
 stick is thrown away as worthless. Yet as a proof of how indivi- 
 
 1 The annual consumption of ghee in British India (exclusive of native 
 States) is estimated at considerably over five million hundredweights, the value 
 of which is about ,£14,000,000 i Its price varies from 5 d. to ir. per pound, 
 but is gradually rising, owing to the continuous decrease of grazing land, con¬ 
 sequent on the increase of cultivation. To meet the ever-increasing demand, 
 the Indian government have now invited the dairy farmers of Australia to com¬ 
 mence ghee-making on a large scale, offering to send Hindoo ghee-makers to 
 instruct them in the art. As milk yields a larger proportion of ghee than of 
 butter, and neither time nor distance will injure this unfragrant produce, it is 
 probable that men on remote ranches may be glad to avail themselves of this 
 never-failing market. 
 
22 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 dual holiness sanctifies all things, it is affirmed that the much- 
 worshipped sacred Bo-tree of Ceylon grew from a twig which had 
 been thus used by a noted saint (for the wood of the sacred fig-tree 
 is that preferred by holy men). Ordinary mortals generally use the 
 wood of the tamarind 1 or mimosa. 2 
 
 Nor is this the only part of the morning adornment that occurs 
 in public. The bath is either at the river or the open tank, while 
 the bather utters a formula dedicating himself to the gods, and 
 praying that he may be cleansed from all guilt incurred by touch, 
 taste, deed, word, or thought, known or unknown. He ought also 
 to repeat a hymn to the cleansing Ganges. This is the morning 
 ceremonial, but promiscuous washing goes on in the street at all 
 hours and seasons; as does also the work of the barber, who 
 reduces the fine silky black hair to a very small top-knot. Some 
 dandies allow themselves to retain three locks. This is the 
 only moment when the lower-caste Hindoos are seen bareheaded. 
 If, therefore, you care to mark the strange diversity of cranial 
 development between the elongated high skulls of the upper- 
 castes, and the low type, common to the serfs, or low-castes (in 
 other words the descendants of the Aryans and those of the 
 aboriginal races of India), the barber’s hour will give you ample 
 opportunity for study. 
 
 In short, but for this little celestial top-knot, you might imagine, 
 as you glance at a group of those brown shining skulls, that you 
 had got into a colony of the hairless men of Australia; that 
 curious tribe of aborigines known as the Bald Men of the Flinders 
 and Albert Rivers, who literally are destitute of any vestige of 
 hair, and go through life from their birth to their grave as bald as 
 a billiard ball. Certainly Mother Nature would have saved the 
 Hindoos a great deal of trouble if she had created them with the 
 same deficiency. Beard and whiskers are likewise scrupulously 
 removed, only moustaches being permissible ; so when you see a 
 man with a beard you know he must be a Mohammedan, as the 
 Koran strictly forbids shaving the beard. 
 
 After the ceremony of shaving, comes that of marking the brow 
 
 1 Neem. 
 
 2 Baubul. 
 
SECTARIAN MARKS. 
 
 23 
 
 and rubbing the head and other parts of the body with ashes 
 taken from the domestic hearth, in self-dedication to the special 
 god to be honoured, whose mark must be imprinted on the 
 forehead. Then, every man alone, each by himself, proceeds with 
 his morning worship, selecting by preference a place beside a tank 
 or stream, whence taking water in his hand, he drinks a little 
 several times for his internal cleansing ere he begins to pray. 
 
 As regards the painting of those curious lines and marks on the 
 brow, denoting to which of the principal religious parties the 
 wearer belongs, it appears that although the Hindoo sects are 
 practically innumerable, they are satisfied with about seventy 
 distinguishing marks, one or other of which is painted on the 
 forehead, and probably branded on their arms and breast. These 
 marks consist of spots, circles, triangles, straight lines, curved 
 lines, crescents, simply or in combination, and of varied colours. 
 Thus, a simple spot symbolises Brahma the Supreme Being, while 
 a spot in the centre of a circle, inclosed in a triangle, symbolises 
 the Trimurti, i.e., Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, the Hindoo Trinity. 
 Some sects adopt a mark like an eccentric cross, with the four 
 points bent: this is called the swastika. Some are simply marked 
 with three white lines, others have perpendicular stripes ; a small 
 horizontal line on the forehead denotes having bathed—in fact, 
 being ready for society. 
 
 Other marks show at whose shrine worship has been offered; 
 thus, the worshippers of Siva are marked on the forehead with 
 three horizontal lines made with ashes taken from sacrificial 
 altars, and moistened with glutinous rice-water. On those 
 of Vishnu is impressed the symbol of his sacred footprint in 
 curved lines of white, red, and yellow ; different sects dispute 
 as to the propriety of thus indicating one foot or two, so the sect 
 which is in favour of only one foot, indicates it by one curved line 
 of white between the eyes, crossed by a central red mark in 
 honour of the goddess Laksmi, wife of Vishnu. Another sect, 
 while indicating both feet resting on two lotus-blossoms, still does 
 homage to Laksmi, and contrives to suggest all this by three 
 vertical curved lines, one 01 which comes half way down the nose. 
 
24 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The disputes concerning these frontal emblems are bitter to a 
 degree, and as both parties worship the same images in the 
 same temples, ruinous law-suits sometimes arise between the two 
 factions as to which mark shall be impressed on the images ! 
 Our British ritual cases have their counterpart in this far East! 
 A third sect is distinguished by marking the central line in black 
 with charred incense taken from Vishnu’s altar. 
 
 In short, these lines and spots of divers colour, which in our 
 eyes are so strangely disfiguring, are literally the “ seal on the fore¬ 
 head,” once common to many oriental nations, and to which such 
 constant reference is made in Scripture, where the servants of the 
 Most High are said to have been sealed ; while of those who had 
 forsaken His service, it is said that “ their spot is not the spot of 
 His children.” Hence, too, in the Revelation, the destroying 
 angel is bidden to stay his hand till the servants of God have 
 been sealed on the forehead, as a mark whereby to distinguish 
 them. 
 
 Among the Hindoos the paint used is commonly a yellow paste 
 made from sandal-wood, sometimes mixed with vermilion. Black 
 paint is, as we have seen, obtained from burnt incense, and white 
 from lime. Occasionally a mixture of turmeric and sacred cow- 
 dung is prepared, and sometimes the latter choice ingredient is 
 mixed with the ashes from some sacrificial fire and spread over 
 the whole body as a ceremonial purification ! 
 
 Happily the Hindoo women do not indulge in the abominable 
 use of paint or other artificial adornment, though I am told that 
 some of them are tattooed with patterns of flowers punctured on 
 the body, and rubbed with the juice of certain plants. The 
 fingers, you know, are stained with henna, and the lips too often 
 discoloured by the incessant chewing of betel. 
 
 One of the peculiarities of the race which first attracts the eye 
 of a new-comer is the attitude of rest. A weary man seems 
 never so comfortable as when simply poised on the soles of his feet, 
 with his shoulders almost between his knees, an attitude in which 
 few Europeans can retain their balance at all—-certainly not 
 without great fatigue. Yet this is to the native as natural as 
 
ORIENTAL PATIENCE. 
 
 sitting is to us; and you will generally see a coachman get off his 
 comfortable box, the moment the carriage stops anywhere, and 
 thus squat in the dust. This constant pressure on the muscles 
 enlarges the knees, so that in old age the knees and heels are the 
 most prominent features of those lean lanky skeletons, whose 
 wrinkled skin hangs on them in loose flaps. 
 
 Thus at rest, a Hindoo seems never to mind how long he 
 remains undisturbed, for he knows as little of the value of time 
 as a genuine Highlander; nor do our dealings with the people go 
 far to improve their appreciation thereof. The utter indifference 
 with which men are kept waiting hour after hour about the most 
 trivial business, and are then desired to return next day, a distance 
 of perhaps some miles, would sorely try the temper of any people, 
 less patient than these, or less thoroughly schooled to conceal all 
 irritation in presence of their superiors. While marvelling at 
 their patience 1 have often thought of that Perthshire vassal, who, 
 having thus lost half a morning, departed in high dudgeon; when 
 at length his master called for him, and Donald was not forth¬ 
 coming, a friendly bystander explained matters. Quoth the chief, 
 “ I suppose Donald was swearing at me ? ” “ Hoot na ! he was 
 
 na sweering at your grace ! he was jist damning at large ! ” 
 
 But these men, though they are clever, diligent workmen, 
 never seem to lose their temper at this waste of their precious 
 time. It is the Sahib’s hookiun (command), so they must wait, 
 for the will of any white man is law, and they are as flexible in 
 character as in body, which is saying a good deal, their lithe spare 
 figures seeming built for such athletic games as wrestling, running, 
 and climbing. They are wonderfully neat-fingered, and their 
 nicety of touch and exquisite finish tell well in all manner of 
 refined works. 
 
 In physical strength, however, they rank far below the white 
 man, and it is said that in such work as shipbuilding, and other 
 trades demanding great power, the work of one Englishman equals 
 that of three Hindoos. This, however, only applies to the 
 natives of the plains. The hill tribes are sturdy and strong as 
 any other highlanders, and I have often marvelled to see the loads 
 
2 6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 those hill men and women carry for twelve or fourteen miles— 
 heavy blocks of timber, or sacks of grain, but especially a certain 
 tin case of my own, which in England generally involves two 
 porters, but which one Pahari would carry for a whole march 
 without a murmur. 
 
 Among the most startling novelties of an Indian bazaar is the 
 multitude of crows and kites which are for ever walking gravely 
 about, seeking what they may devour, or, with sharp piercing cries, 
 circling over our heads. Large numbers of these kites met us off 
 the mouth of the Ganges hours before we sighted land, and fol¬ 
 lowed the ship, as gulls are wont to do. These were but flying 
 squadrons of the grand army, which we here find in full possession 
 of the town. There are brown kites of all sizes, and great white 
 Brahininy kites (brown the first year, white the second), as different 
 one from another as a cygnet from a swan. All new-comers 
 admire these handsome birds, but all residents, most ungratefully, 
 loathe them, inasmuch as in this land, where drainage of any 
 sort is utterly unknown, they are nature’s appointed scavengers, 
 whose duty and whose privilege it is to consume all carrion and 
 other foul matter, and so preserve the city from pestilence. 
 
 (How strange it is to think that only three hundred years ago ] 
 
 1 Three hundred years ago ! Just the time when, A.D. 1589, a company of 
 English merchants addressed a memorial to Queen Elizabeth, craving permis¬ 
 sion to equip three ships for the purpose of trading to the East Indies. This 
 first expedition started in 1591 and proved disastrous, but eight years later an 
 association of “merchant adventurers” was formed in London to renew the 
 enterprise on a larger scale, and in the year 1600 a royal charter was granted 
 them. Trading stations were first established at Madras and Bombay ; that 
 in Bengal was of later date, and it was not till 1687 that the British merchants 
 were compelled to abandon their first station on the Hoogly river, and intrench 
 themselves on the present site of Calcutta. 
 
 Here they were besieged in the year 1756, and compelled to surrender to 
 the Nawab Sooraj-oo-Dowlah, who flattered himself that he had for ever 
 extirpated the hated English, till he was taught his mistake by the arrival of 
 Colonel Robert Clive with true British troops. To-day Calcutta ranks 
 next to London as the second city of the British empire ! with a 
 population of three-quarters of a million ! 
 
 Close on Calcutta follows the city of Bombay, likewise numbering close on 
 three-quarters of a million inhabitants. Yet when in 1661 Bombay was ceded 
 
WINGED SCAVENGERS. 
 
 2 7 
 
 British kites were doing the same useful work for the City of 
 London, where they were protected by municipal laws! Herr 
 Schaschek, a Bohemian traveller who visited England in a.d. 1461, 
 specially noted the multitude of kites which hovered around 
 London Bridge, and a century later, in 1555, another traveller, 
 Belon, records that not even in Cairo, were the kites more 
 numerous than in London, where they fed on the garbage of the 
 streets, and even of the Thames !) 
 
 Here in Hindoostan, the kites are ably assisted in their good 
 and useful work by the adjutants, whose lives are protected by a 
 fine of (I think) fifty rupees for killing one. They are a kind of 
 great ugly crane of a dark blue-grey colour, with huge bill which 
 opens far back into the head, and a long pouch which hangs over 
 the breast. They stand five feet high, and a full-grown bird 
 sometimes measures seven feet six inches from the tip of the beak 
 to the claws, while the expanse of wing averages fourteen feet 
 from tip to tip. A favourite amusement of the British soldier is to 
 throw bones for the fun of seeing the adjutants catch them before 
 they fall. Sometimes they tie two bones together with a string, 
 and throw them to two birds, who each greedily swallow one, and 
 then stand half choking and bowing to one another in ludicrous 
 style, till they succeed in biting the string. 
 
 Another pleasant pastime used to be, to affix a slow match to 
 
 to Charles II. by the Portuguese, as part of the dower of his bride, it was a 
 worthless possession, fatal to Europeans, and was made over to a company of 
 adventurous London merchants for an annual rental of £10. Calcutta, now 
 the world-famed “City of Palaces” was at that time represented by a cluster 
 of mud huts in a dismal, unhealthy, swampy jungle on the low, slimy shores 
 of the Hoogly, where a handful of sorely oppressed merchants strove to 
 establish a footing. 
 
 Many a prolonged contest awaited them and their successors—contests both 
 with men and nature, especially with the ever-shifting river and silting sands. 
 The latter difficulties continue to this day, gigantic steam-dredgers being ever 
 at work, together with every conceivable device of modern river-engineering, 
 but for which the Hoogly would long since have ceased to be navigable. 
 
 As it is, British determination has conquered all difficulties ; ships of the 
 largest tonnage sail to and fro securely, and to-day the total import and export 
 trade of India exceeds in value ^"122,000,000. 
 
2S 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 a fine large bone, and lay it in some tempting spot, where an 
 unsuspecting adjutant was sure to pounce upon it. Then the 
 fuse was ignited, and as the luckless bird flew high over the city 
 with his prize, a sudden flash would carry off his head, and the 
 huge body would come tumbling into the street, greatly to the 
 consternation of the lieges! This amusement is now happily 
 illegal. 
 
 Of course, among the lions of Calcutta, Fort William holds a 
 prominent place, not by reason of its beauty, however, for it has 
 none of the grandeur of the Mogul forts which we find further up 
 country, being merely a low octagon built on a flat green space; 
 a small spot ceded to British colonists about the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, and fortified by Clive after the Battle of 
 Plassey. It is said, first and last, to have cost the Hon. Company 
 2.000,000/. ! Inside the fort is a fine church, which we saw in 
 all the beauty of its Christmas dress. 
 
 Another lion is the big banyan tree in the Botanical Gardens, 
 which is worthy of a visit from all lovers of curious vegetation, 
 inasmuch as they may travel many a long mile ere they fall in 
 with another specimen of the rnany-pillared tree so grand as 
 this one. 
 
 When thoroughly wearied with sight-seeing, were turned home 
 to the real breakfast of the day, and spent the next few hours in 
 the cool shade of a wide verandah, content to watch the busy life in 
 the street below; and though the European element predominated, 
 there was no lack of novelty. Hideous gharrys, answering to our 
 cabs, but made wholly to keep out the sun ; palanquins and 
 bearers for such as prefer them; gentlemen’s buggies, which are 
 simply gigs with a hood to them; picturesque native carriages; 
 two-wheeled ekkas with bright curtains, drawn by the swiftest of 
 ponies, with three or four fat baboos curled up where there seemed 
 scarcely space for one ; larger carriages with quaint double hoods 
 of scarlet and gold, and drawn by richly-caparisoned white bul¬ 
 locks, trotting merrily along; hackeries without number (heavy 
 carts, sometimes covered), whose wooden wheels being never 
 greased, are for ever creaking and groaning, night and day, while 
 
INDIAN BULLOCKS. 
 
 2 9 
 
 the drivers shriek and howl at the strong patient bullocks, with 
 the meek beautiful eyes, almost twisting off their tails as a means 
 of gentle suasion. 
 
 The creaking of these wheels, mingling with the shrill cries of 
 
 the kites, is the most characteristic sound in India — a never-failing 
 accompaniment to whatever scene may be passing before the 
 eye. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 30 
 
 These Indian bullocks, like all the other cattle here, have a 
 great fleshy hump between the shoulders (a hump which finds great 
 favour among beef-eating foreigners, who find it a close-grained 
 and very delicate meat). 1 It is supposed that this hump, like that 
 of the camel and yak, acts as a reservoir of food, being nature’s 
 provision for certain inhabitants of dry and arid lands, inasmuch 
 as in times of starvation it will shrivel up before the rest of the 
 body begins to suffer. A yoke laid across the necks of a pair of 
 bullocks, and pressing against this hump, is the sole harness by 
 which they are attached to their heavy burdens. They have only 
 to bow the neck and they are free. So, just as the German oxen 
 draw wholly by the forehead, these draw all weights by their 
 hump, which too often is terribly galled. Indeed, the treatment 
 of the sacred bullock by the reverent Hindoo is often horribly 
 cruel. He is forced to work till his bones cut his miserable skin, 
 and when galled and raw is still driven on. His tail is twisted till 
 it actually breaks ; and when at last the poor brute sinks exhausted, 
 the chances are that his brutal driver will place straw and sticks 
 round him, and light a fire to compel him to rise once more. 
 Should even this fail to rouse the dying beast, he must on no 
 account be killed—he is left to die at his leisure, with the 
 assistance of the kites, vultures, and pariahs. 
 
 Where the Hindoo draws his limit in the use of all these means 
 of gentle suasion it would be hard to define, for sometimes an 
 obstinate sacred ox blocks up a narrow street in very inconvenient 
 style, yet no one will venture to strike him, or use any means of 
 forcible persuasion to move. Mr. Russell mentions that on one 
 occasion, when native troops had been sent in pursuit of a strong 
 party of robbers, who were encamped in a thick forest, their 
 progress was arrested by a vast flock of half-wild cattle, who with 
 levelled horns absolutely blocked the way, bellowing and stamping 
 so furiously that the men dared not advance, indeed could not do 
 so, except at the point of the bayonet. The men would rather 
 
 1 By a very absurd misnomer, it appears on the bill of fare as “buffalo 
 hump,” whereas the Indian buffalo has none at all, being quite flat-necked. 
 
ANTAGONISM OF RACE. 
 
 31 
 
 have died than hurt the sacred bullocks, and would only try, by 
 shouting and waving their long waist scarfs (cummerbunds), to 
 induce them to move. The bullocks were obstinate and stood 
 their ground, and meantime the robber troop escaped. 
 
 This being the day of the great Calcutta races, we were duly 
 taken there, but, having no special racing instincts, I found my 
 chief amusement in watching the intense excitement of the natives, 
 who solaced themselves between whiles with flying paper kites,— 
 a nice childish amusement for big men, I thought, till I was told 
 that the strings of the kites had been rubbed with diamond dust, 
 and that the object is to fly above your antagonist, and then, 
 drawing down your kite sharply, cut his string, so that this 
 becomes a favourite vehicle for gambling. Then I understood 
 why half the population seemed to have entered their second 
 childhood. The same game finds equal favour in Japan, where 
 grey-haired men rejoice like children in cutting the string of a 
 rival kite. 
 
 Here I received my first lesson in the antagonism of brown and 
 white skins, a gentleman of our party suddenly insisting on my 
 changing places with him, for what cause I could not divine, till 
 he pointed out that a very handsome and beautifully dressed native 
 lad had taken the seat next to mine — a lad whose delicately- 
 refined hands, well chiselled features, and large, thoughtful, 
 velvety-black eyes, would have rejoiced the heart of an artist. 
 He was the sort of boy who, should he visit Britain, would be the 
 petted darling of London drawing-rooms. I felt horribly annoyed 
 at having moved, but the lad seemed to think it quite natural ; 
 his race gets accustomed to such humiliation at our hands. I 
 remember my dismay when, speaking of a restive horse, whose 
 prancing blocked the narrow road, I called to my friend to wait, 
 as the beast would not let me pass, whereupon his rider, just 
 tinged with colour, at once thought I referred to himself, and 
 explained apologetically and most courteously that indeed it was 
 the fault of the horse, and not his ! 1 
 
 As to a native travelling in the same railway carriage with you, 
 it is a thing almost unheard of. But the unfortunate half-castes 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 seem to occupy the most uncomfortable position, being neither 
 flesh nor fowl as regards race. (Eurasians they are politely called, 
 being a combination of Europe and Asia.) They are for the most 
 part an unusually intelligent and industrious race, almost invariably 
 well educated, and daily occupying more and more positions of 
 trust. Fortunately for them, they are a sufficiently large and 
 important body to form their own society, as they are socially 
 shunned alike by brown men and white, in whose eyes a dash of the 
 tar-brush is the worst form of evil. So there is a grievous lack of 
 sympathy between all shades of colour, and too often the owner 
 of a white skin seems to consider himself at liberty to address his 
 darker brethren, no matter how highly educated, in an imperious 
 tone of superiority painful and amazing to a new-comer. You 
 very soon find out that the old command to “ honour all men,” 
 has, like a good many other injunctions, been practically expunged 
 from the Anglo-Indian Bible, or applies only to such as own pale 
 faces. 1 
 
 I have often marvelled to see English ladies returning from 
 church, where they had been paying devout homage to the 
 memories of saintly Syrian Jews (the tradesmen of 1,900 years 
 ago), yet shrinking with contemptuous aversion from contact with 
 their own servants—men differing in colour by but few shades. 
 And socially, a man may be guilty of any enormity, rather than be 
 suspected of having one drop of dark blood in his veins — so 
 difficult is it to realise that black or white, coal or diamond, are 
 all made of the same stuff. 
 
 Leaving the race-course, we followed the multitude in a round 
 of the principal shops, all gaily decorated in honour of the season. 
 The chief lounge seemed to be at Wilson’s Hotel, the ground floor 
 of which is a great shop, combining all trades, milliners and 
 tailors, boots and bonnets, sugar-plums and cutlery, perfumes and 
 wools, wines and groceries—in short, everything you can put a 
 name upon. The great stands of Christmas cakes were worthy of 
 
 1 The above was written before the “ Ilbert Bill” had added tenfold fuel to 
 this flame, and awakened jn the brown and half-brown races a sense of irrita- 
 tion and antagonism which may yet prove a fruitful source of future trouble. 
 
CASTE COOKING. 33 
 
 Gunter’s, and a large Christmas tree was an additional attraction 
 to all the little folk. 
 
 The ornamental cakes are supposed to be especially dear to 
 the English heart, and the number of these presented to their 
 employers on Christmas morning by the various tradesmen is 
 startling. I saw about a dozen on one lady’s table. Besides 
 these things, trays of all manner of sweetmeats, fruits, and 
 flowers are presented, sometimes by the servants themselves, 
 who come up to make their salaam, and generally expect to receive 
 a Christmas backsheish —in other words, Christmas boxes —a term 
 which in olden times was probably derived from the East, in the 
 same way as the slang of later days vulgarised the Hindoo 
 word cheese , a thing, and “ quite the thing ” became “ quite the 
 cheese.” 
 
 As a general rule, the recipient of the cakes and sweetmeats, 
 having looked at them,, bestows them at once upon his servants, 
 who eat them with infinite delight, provided master has not touched 
 them ; but should they once have been laid on the plates in 
 common use, none but the lowest caste will take them, or any 
 other food that comes from our table. It is marvellous to see 
 what piles of good things are at once handed over to these 
 despised beings, while the other servants sit down, each by him¬ 
 self, to prepare their miserable dinner of rice and dahl (a vegetable 
 something like pea-soup with a dash of curry in it), and great 
 heavy chupatties, a species of bread like our scones, which every 
 man must bake for himself, after divers washings and ceremonies. 
 Should he be interrupted in the process, his flour is wasted, as no 
 one else may take his place as baker. After all, the rice and dahl 
 is not much worse than the potatoes mashed with mustard and 
 milk which form the ordinary dinner of a vast number of our 
 own sturdy Scots. 
 
 Hearing that there was to be a grand midnight Mass at the 
 Roman Catholic Cathedral, we thought we could not better employ 
 our Christmas Eve than by attending it. However, it proved a 
 woful disappointment. Arriving very early, we had to watch the 
 assembling of the congregation, who almost without exception 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 were Portuguese and half-castes, dressed in those gaudy and most 
 unbecoming colours which they generally affect, and as a rule, 
 the older and uglier the women, the more brilliant and fashionable 
 their European attire. 
 
 All the seats were locked, so the congregation stood crowding 
 the aisles, till, at the last moment, a verger came, and, unlocking 
 each pew, drove the people in like sheep, all chattering and 
 laughing. At midnight the organ struck up rapid opera music, 
 and the Mass which followed was but a few shades more solemn. 
 We did not wait to hear whether, as in the Cathedral at Malaga, 
 the organ would indulge in ludicrous imitations of the donkeys’ 
 bray, the low of the oxen, cock-crowing, the wailing cry of an 
 infant, and other voices from the stable at Bethlehem, for we were 
 thankful to slip quietly away, and escape into the clear starlight, 
 that it might whisper to us some message from the Syrian plains 
 and the manger-cradle, and help us to forget the jarring 
 incongruity of the scene we had just left. 
 
 We found a more congenial service in the early morning, at the 
 English Cathedral, and though to a Briton it is always difficult to 
 think of Christmas Day apart from glossy holly and crisp frost 
 and snow, this had all the charm of an early Easter morning, 
 with birds singing, and rooks cawing in the tall trees outside; 
 while through the open windows the sweet cool breeze stole in, 
 laden with the scent of flowers. The churches, too, were all 
 decorated with flowers, and with the scarlet Poyntsetzia leaves. 
 The cathedral was built by the late Bishop Wilson, and partakes 
 of the ugliness of all our churches in India. It looks well in 
 miniature, however, as you may judge from the alabaster model 
 preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. 
 
 Collecting the offertory in an Indian church is a curious and 
 very lengthy proceeding. From a fiction that the coinage is too 
 heavy to carry about (it is really precisely the same as our own, 
 including every silver coin, from a threepenny-bit to a florin, alias 
 rupee), hardly any one keeps money about him, so the plate is 
 handed round, full of slips of paper and pencils, and every one 
 writes down his name, address, and subscription, or, occasionally, 
 
FUNKAHS. 
 
 35 
 
 that of his neighbour ! These are collected with infinite trouble 
 on the following day, when the effect of the stirring appeal having 
 worn off, the generous fit has likewise subsided, and the collector 
 is liable to be kept waiting so long, and the coin to be at length 
 given so grudgingly, as to have sometimes called for strong 
 remonstrance from the pulpit. 
 
 Speaking of the rapid variations of temperature in the inclina* 
 tion for almsgiving, I recollect the late Bishop of Oxford 1 relating, 
 with infinite humour, a lady’s account of the effect of one of his 
 own sermons. She went to church determined to give a sovereign 
 to a given object, but so eloquent and heartstirring was his appeal, 
 that, instead of the sovereign, she produced a five-pound note. 
 However, instead of an offertory, there was merely a collection at 
 the door, and as the church was crowded, it took her some time 
 to get so far—so long in fact, that her enthusiasm had quite cooled 
 down ; and though she did not, like a good many of her neigh¬ 
 bours, look the other way when the plate was handed to her, 
 she did replace the five-pound note in her purse, and once more 
 produced the sovereign ! 
 
 Another peculiarity of the churches in India is the punkah, 
 which, as you know, is a framework of wood covered with cloth, 
 and with a deep white frill. Rows of these hang from end to end 
 of the church, suspended from the ceiling, and are swung by ropes 
 which pass through holes in the wall, and are pulled by natives 
 (in private houses there are relays of punkah coolies, who relieve 
 guard night and day). Why some simple machine has never been 
 devised to do this tedious work, is matter for wonder, but some 
 one suggests that no machine would do it for sixpence a day, 
 which is the wage of these men — certainly none would be so 
 noiseless. And the gentle Hindoo has no objection to work that 
 merely involves sitting still and pulling a rope. The effect of 
 these rows of great white frilled fans, chasing one another irregu¬ 
 larly, up and down the church, is positively bewildering. Some¬ 
 times they seem to overtake those in front of them, then they are 
 just left behind. After a while, as you watch them, the effect 
 1 Samuel Wilberforce. 
 
 D 2 
 
3 6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 becomes soporific. To the parson it must be exceedingly irksome 
 to preach to an invisible congregation, now revealed for a second, 
 now again hidden in white moving clouds of cotton. 
 
 But at least he is spared the infliction to which his brethren 
 in England must submit, of preaching to a sniffling, sneezing, 
 coughing, Christmas congregation such as must sorely try the 
 temper of one who has burnt the midnight oil in preparing close 
 arguments, the thread of which is thus, in Britain, so often ruth¬ 
 lessly and hopelessly destroyed. 
 
 Here the natives seem to have a monopoly of “barking,” and it 
 is heartrending to hear the hollow consumptive coughs from which 
 so many suffer. Even in these really chilly nights a great number 
 sleep in the open air, merely wrapping their blanket cloak over 
 their heads, perhaps taking what shelter they can find in the open 
 verandahs. And yet they suffer far more from cold than we do, 
 and their poor, frugal diet cannot add much to the internal heat. 
 So, again and again through the night, when some extra severe 
 fit of coughing in the street below rouses you to look out, you 
 will see these lean, spare creatures, who minister so well to 
 your luxuries, shivering over their little fire, or seeking 
 what warmth and comfort they can extract from their hubble- 
 bubble. 
 
 This last is a great institution, being the native pipe, and 
 never very long out of sight and hearing. All night long you 
 are sure to hear some one thus solacing himself. For the tobacco 
 and fire being placed in a cup at one end of a tube, and the 
 mouth-piece at the other, the middle of the tube, which is bent 
 double, rests in a vase of water ; thus the smoke is cooled ; but 
 every whiff causes a bubbling gurgling noise, like the boiling of a 
 pot. This, and the incessant shrill cries of the kites, are the two 
 sounds most thoroughly associated with every time and place in 
 India. 
 
 The great bond of tobacco seems one of the few points of 
 sympathy between dark skins and fair. The sahib’s call is never 
 responded to with such alacrity as when he shouts for fire, “ Ag 
 lau,” and forthwith a burning coal or wood is brought, sometimes 
 
THE EVENING DRIVE. 
 
 37 
 
 carried in small tongs, but more frequently in the hand of one of 
 these salamanders ! Even the good fellowship of the pipe is not, 
 however, above all risk, and it is said that many instances have 
 occurred in which travellers have been drugged by some treacher¬ 
 ous companion, who has gontrived to introduce detura into their 
 tobacco; this being a powerful narcotic, stupefies the smokers, 
 and leaves them an easy prey to robbers. 
 
 Nothing strikes a new-comer more curiously than the custom 
 of driving for pleasure in the dark. For though instinct very 
 quickly teaches you not to face the sun without a very thick sun- 
 hat (a hat like a huge mushroom made of white pith), and a white 
 cover for your umbrella, nevertheless the light is so beautiful and 
 so pleasant that you long to be out all day; instead of which, the 
 daily life-duty of the evening drive on the Esplanade or the Mall 
 begins at sunset; and India has none of that twilight (the 
 pleasantest hour of home life), that comes “ ’twixt the gloaming 
 and the mirk.” 
 
 The carriages come round at their appointed hour; good 
 English carriages, driven by splendid natives in brilliant robes 
 and large gay turbans, with attendant grooms (one of whom runs 
 beside each horse), and if you start at once you may reach the 
 Esplanade (the Rotten Row of Calcutta) just as the sun is sinking 
 in a flood of golden light behind the forest of tall black masts. 
 For the drive runs alongside the Hoogly, which is kept so deep 
 by means of incessant dredging, that ships of very heavy tonnage 
 find anchorage close to the shore, adding all the picturesque 
 details of marine life to the endless variety of the scene. You 
 will see no elephants, for these are not allowed in the streets, save 
 at specified hours, for fear of frightening horses. But there are 
 people of all sorts and colours, riding, driving, or walking. 
 
 Among the latter are innumerable young baboos 1 in white 
 robes, and bareheaded. I know not how they came to adopt a 
 custom so foreign to Hindoo fashion, which heaps endless yards of 
 cloth upon the head, increasing the turban in proportion to the 
 respect due to the day, or the presence in which they stand, so that 
 
 1 Clerks. 
 
33 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 it is no uncommon thing for a man to walk about with twenty 
 yards of silk or muslin on his head, sometimes even thirty yards 
 or more! 
 
 These white-robed clerks still abstain from stockings, but sub¬ 
 stitute patent-leather shoes of English manufacture for the usual 
 native slipper, in consequence of a decree which allows such shoes 
 to be kept on in any court, whereas all native shoes must be put 
 off, in accordance with their own customs. But only a European¬ 
 ised Hindoo would think of wearing leather, which, being made 
 from dead beasts, is impure, and the vast majority of Hindoos wear 
 no shoes at all. Even the highest nobleman coming to call leaves 
 his shoes outside the house in the verandah. 
 
 By the time you have completed one turn along the Esplanade 
 it is so dark that you require lamps, which it is compulsory 
 for every one to light. Then for perhaps an hour people drive 
 up and down in the dark, going at a foot’s pace, wearisome to a 
 degree. ' 
 
 One thing which you cannot fail to notice is the multitude of 
 grooms on foot, carrying yaks’ tails, wherewith to flip away the flies. 
 Not only has every horse his own syce (or groom), but the groom 
 is supposed never to lose sight of his horse. However long a 
 ride his master may go, or at whatever pace, the groom must 
 run alongside—and a famous runner he almost invariably is. 
 Occasionally he helps himself along by holding on by the 
 horse’s tail. In like manner with carriage-horses ; the coachman 
 is simply a driver, and while he sits in state on the box, the grooms 
 must keep up with the carriage ready to be at the horses’ heads 
 the moment they stop. The amount of running thus entailed is 
 something enormous, and certainly moves the compassion of 
 a new-comer, though the old Indian considers it a matter of 
 course. 
 
 (It is strange to think how recently it was the custom even in 
 Britain to keep running footmen, who should be ready to accom¬ 
 pany their master’s carriage, lest it should stick in ruts or streams 
 or otherwise come to grief. Sir Walter Scott mentions having 
 seen these with his own eyes. They were also very generally 
 
GRAPES FROM THE FAR NORTH. 
 
 39 
 
 employed in Germany and Austria in the beginning of the pre’sent 
 century, but were said seldom to live more than three or four 
 years, and then most frequently died of consumption. The dis¬ 
 tances which these men sometimes ran, in an amazingly short 
 space of time, have been recorded among the strange feats of 
 pedestrianism. Every runner bore a long light pole with a hollow 
 knob at the top, in which he might carry a hard-boiled egg or 
 some such light refreshment, and this is said to be the origin of 
 the long silver-headed cane, still carried by footmen when hanging 
 on in state behind a London carriage.) 
 
 When the ceremony of the drive is over, then comes dinner, 
 with sundry agreeable peculiarities. Those delightful arm-chairs 
 all round the table, and dowers in every finger glass—probably a^ 
 rose and a sprig of verbena in each—and the table itself so 
 gracefully decorated—perhaps with leaves of the scarlet Poynt- 
 setzia and delicate sprays and tendrils of the vine . 1 These 
 Brownies do love flowers, and are very dainty in their use of them. 
 They are for ever bringing you offerings thereof, and your rooms 
 and table are always adorned as a matter of course. The plates, 
 too, are a novelty ; resembling a dinner-plate laid on a soup-plate, 
 with a hole in the rim, to allow of filling the space between with 
 boiling water. Thus the cold breeze from the punkah does not 
 cool the gravy; nor are the dishes chilled when carried through 
 the open air, from the kitchen, which is generally at some distance 
 from the house. Of course a heap of such plates must be fright¬ 
 fully heavy to carry, but I rather think that a washing of dishes 
 goes on close to the dining-room door, which diminishes the 
 number in use. 
 
 Here as elsewhere, the value of everything depends on the 
 difficulty of procuring it, therefore a recherche dessert generally 
 includes grapes—not the beautiful well-grown bunches of our hot¬ 
 houses, still covered with purple bloom and shaded by their own 
 
 1 Such table-decoration was the rule in India Icng before this graceful 
 custom was introduced into Britain—indeed, we are apt to forget that it is 
 only about a dozen years since the civilised innovation of a “ Dinei-Rttsse” 
 was generally adopted in this country. 
 
40 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 fresh leaves ; but single grapes, generally, if not invariably, white, 
 sold in circular boxes like French plums. They are cut from the 
 bunch, and packed between layers of cotton-wool to exclude the 
 air, and thus they are brought, with other stores of dried fruits, 
 apples, and pomegranates, from the far-away mountains of Cabul 
 seven hundred miles distant, by Cabulee or Afghan merchants. 
 These are the wildest, weirdest-looking beings you can imagine; 
 fine men, but the very strangest contrast to the smooth-shaven 
 natives of the plains. They pitch ‘their camp outside some city, 
 where they find ready sale for their herds of strong, sure-footed 
 ponies, as also for their Persian kittens—lovely, silky creatures of 
 every colour, with great bushy tails. They have pure white kittens, 
 and jet-black kittens, kittens grey or piebald, kittens brindled, 
 kittens yellow or sand-coloured, in short, such kittens as would 
 rejoice all cat-loving hearts. Some of the white kittens are blue¬ 
 eyed,—large, beautiful, and of the brightest celestial blue, like 
 lovely china. The law of compensation, however, makes them 
 pay dear for this attraction, as the owners of such blue eyes are 
 almost invariably deaf. 
 
TRADES AND OCCUPATIONS. 
 
 41 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 The recent Official Census of the trades and occupations of the people 
 of India enables us to form a good general idea of the modes 
 of existence of these our fellow-subjects. 
 
 OCCUPATIONS. 
 
 Officers of National Government. 
 
 Officers of Municipal, Local, and Village 
 
 Government. 
 
 Officers of Independent Governments and 
 
 States . 
 
 Army. 
 
 Navy. 
 
 Clergymen, ministers, priests, church and 
 
 temple officers. 
 
 Lawyers, stationers, and law stamp dealers . 
 Physicians, surgeons, and druggists .... 
 
 Authors and literary persons. 
 
 Artists. 
 
 Musicians. 
 
 Actors. 
 
 Teachers. 
 
 Scientific persons. 
 
 Wives of specified occupation. 
 
 Other wives. 
 
 Engaged on board and lodging. 
 
 Attendants (domestic servants). 
 
 Mercantile persons. 
 
 Other general dealers. 
 
 Carriers on railways. 
 
 Carriers on roads. 
 
 Carriers on canals and rivers. 
 
 Carriers on seas and rivers. 
 
 Engaged in storage. 
 
 Messengers and porters. 
 
 Agriculturists . 
 
 Horticulturists. 
 
 Persons engaged about animals. 
 
 Workers in books. 
 
 ,, ,, musical instruments ...... 
 
 ,, ,, prints and pictures. 
 
 „ ,, carving and figures. 
 
 ,, ,, tackle for sports and games . . 
 
 ,, ,, designs, medals, and dies . . . 
 
 ,, ,, watches and philosophical in¬ 
 struments . 
 
 MALE. 
 
 FEMALE. 
 
 580,185 
 
 6,352 
 
 79 L 379 
 
 17,764 
 
 133,285 
 
 865 
 
 311,070 
 
 1,682 
 
 300 
 
 
 601,164 
 
 94,251 
 
 31,628 
 
 IO 
 
 1 * 3,579 
 
 75,239 
 
 3 2 >*77 
 
 3,464 
 
 * 0,347 
 
 584 
 
 187,695 
 
 19,631 
 
 58,807 
 
 40,381 
 
 166,356 
 
 4,345 
 
 ii ,494 
 
 127 
 
 
 47 L 774 
 
 
 3 , 321,366 
 
 27,970 
 
 14,515 
 
 2,149,629 
 
 651,965 
 
 983,869 
 
 124,409 
 
 886,149 
 
 286,464 
 
 61,031 
 
 1,157 
 
 635.482 
 
 13,770 
 
 322,6S8 
 
 • 2,877 
 
 104,237 
 
 574 
 
 64,667 
 
 2,157 
 
 174,598 
 
 15.063 
 
 19,210 
 
 . 15,866 
 
 166,355 
 
 54.448 
 
 754 , 5*2 
 
 235,830 
 
 19,384 
 
 127 
 
 3,146 
 
 568 
 
 1,005 
 
 79 
 
 15,338 
 
 4 , 4 r G 
 
 4,101 
 
 1,285 
 
 8 i<) 
 
 l 6 
 
 2 , 9 6 3 
 
 57 
 
42 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 OCCUPATIONS. 
 
 MALE. 
 
 FEMALE. 
 
 Workers in surgical instruments. 
 
 I 
 
 
 ,, ,, arms. 
 
 4.293 
 
 245 
 
 ,, ,, machines and tools. 
 
 52,095 
 
 9,979 
 
 ,, ,, carriages. 
 
 11,963 
 
 285 
 
 ,, ,, harness. 
 
 6, 1 14 
 
 78 i 
 
 ,, ships. 
 
 16,913 
 
 358 
 
 ,, ,, houses and buildings. 
 
 808,712 
 
 27,741 
 
 ,, ,, furniture. 
 
 9,343 
 
 797 
 
 ,, ,, chemicals. 
 
 61,220 
 
 19,813 
 
 ,, ,, wool and worsted .. 
 
 I 7 S, 5 I 9 
 
 69,670 
 
 „ silk. 
 
 51,085 
 
 34,355 
 
 ,, ,, cotton and flax. 
 
 2,607,579 
 
 2,877,876 
 
 ,, ,, mixed materials. 
 
 52,286 
 
 52,621 
 
 ,, ,, dress. 
 
 2,082,191 
 
 108,729 
 
 733 ,o 89 
 
 „ ,, hemp and other fibrous materials 
 
 164,367 
 
 ,, ,, animal food. 
 
 640,521 
 
 449,205 
 
 ,, ,, vegetable food. 
 
 1 , 445,916 
 
 L 7 i 9 , 5 i 3 
 
 ,, ,, drinks and stimulants. 
 
 ,, ,, grease, gut, bones, horn, ivory, 
 
 whalebone, and lac .... 
 
 708,699 
 
 204,331 
 
 37,107 
 
 70,889 
 
 ,, ,, skins, feathers, and quills . . . 
 
 263,036 
 
 48,559 
 
 ,, „ hair. 
 
 943 
 
 344 
 
 ,, ,, gums and resins. 
 
 489,618 
 
 273,169 
 
 ,, ,, wool. 
 
 235,313 
 
 179,560 
 
 ,, ,, bark and pith. 
 
 ,, ,, bamboo, cane, rush, straw, and 
 
 3,092 
 
 68,550 
 
 leaves . 
 
 403,375 
 
 277,375 
 
 >, „ P a P er . 
 
 7,670 
 
 1,410 
 
 Miners. 
 
 3,428 
 
 549 
 
 Workers in coal. 
 
 2,602 
 
 1,161 
 
 ,, ,, stone clay. 
 
 667,2S6 
 
 354,721 
 
 ,, ,, earthenware. 
 
 569,128 
 
 259,839 
 
 „ glass. 
 
 32,841 
 
 I 1,904 
 
 ,, ,, salt . 
 
 63,011 
 
 23,922 
 
 ,, ,, water. 
 
 22.7,673 
 
 198,758 
 
 ,, ,, gold, silver, and precious stones 
 
 459,157 
 
 13,799 
 
 „ „ copper. 
 
 11,019 
 
 461 
 
 ,, ,, tin and quicksilver. 
 
 10,419 
 
 461 
 
 „ zinc. 
 
 139 
 
 32 
 
 ,, ,, lead and antimony. 
 
 992 
 
 155 
 
 ,, ,, brass and other mixed metals . . 
 
 123,165 
 
 6,605 
 
 ,, ,, iron and steel. 
 
 Labourers and others (branch of labour 
 
 454,555 
 
 18,806 
 
 undefined) . 
 
 7,248,491 
 
 5,244,206 
 
 Other persons of indefinite occupation . . . 
 Persons of rank and property not returned 
 
 426,109 
 
 33,873 
 
 under any office or occupation .... 
 
 46,262 
 
 I 3 ,i 0 9 
 
 Persons of no stated occupation. 
 
 48 , 794,195 
 
 86,135,617 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A RAILWAY JOURNEY. 
 
 Dust—A Tame Devil—Sleeping Carriages—Rural Bengal—Pigeon Flying— 
 Night Watches—Pendant Nests—Moor?hedabad—Ruined City of Gour. 
 
 Before leaving Calcutta it is necessary for every one to lay in 
 his own supply of bedding, as no house is supposed to keep more 
 than the stock necessary for its own inmates. So whether you go 
 as a guest to your friends, or as a lodger to an hotel, you will, in 
 nineteen cases out of twenty, find that the sleeping accommodation 
 provided in your bed-room consists only of a charpoy , which is a 
 small bedstead of the rudest construction,—merely a wooden 
 frame, with coarse tape laced across it. So it is necessary at 
 once to invest in blankets, sheets, pillow, and a couple of roseis, 
 i.e. wadded quilts, one of which will henceforth act as your 
 mattrass. It is also very desirable to be provided with a strong 
 waterproof case, in order to secure the said bedding from the 
 chances of rain, and from the certainty of fine penetrating dust, 
 which flies in clouds, finding its way in at every crevice. 
 
 In the matter of dress, one very quickly learns that this great 
 dust question has to be considered, for you cannot brush against 
 a wall, or sit down, or rise up, without being powdered over with 
 pale grey dust, so that dark dresses are much to be eschewed, and 
 light grey tweeds assert their superiority. For, in this stoneless 
 country, the whole soil seems to float about at will, and the land 
 is so entirely alluvial, that, within 400 miles of the sea, no stone 
 the sue of a pebble is to be found, save where the Ganges, after 
 
44 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 its inundations, forsakes its old channel, and chooses a new bed, 
 leaving a stony watercourse to mark where once it flowed. Every 
 building therefore is either of mud or brick, except in certain 
 cases where stone has been brought from afar. 
 
 Crossing the river by steamboat one early morning, we made 
 our first acquaintance with an Indian railway-station thronged 
 with natives, some starting on pilgrimage, others on divers 
 business. For the facilities of modern travel have developed 
 a curiously locomotive tendency in the Hindoo. Their old 
 proverb that “No one is so happy as he who never owed a 
 debt, nor undertook a journey ” is quite out of date, and now 
 whole families start from one end of the country to the other, 
 on the smallest pretext, carrying with them their poor stock of 
 worldly goods, tied up in a little bundle, to which are added their 
 cooking pots, and brazen drinking-cups, as no man could ever 
 borrow the use of such articles from a neighbour, for fear of 
 ceremonial defilement. 
 
 The incongruity between the appearance of these pilgrims to 
 holy shrines (for such were most of my fellow passengers), and 
 the solid business-like train, reminded me vividly of my brother’s 
 description of the sensation produced among the hill tribes of 
 Bombay, when first a solitary engine came up the newly made 
 railway, rushing madly onward, and yet stopping obediently at 
 the bidding of the white man. The excitement was increased 
 tenfold, when at night the terrible creature with red wrathful eyes 
 flew over the ground, bellowing and snorting, in fire and fury. 
 
 What wonder was it that they believed it to be in truth a familiar 
 spirit tamed by the white man ; and that these worshippers of all 
 evil powers came straightway crowding to “ make pooja ” and 
 bring offerings to the tame devil ? They brought garlands of 
 fragrant flowers to hang around him, and pots of the red paint 
 with which they smear their gods, and prayed to be allowed to 
 daub the whole engine. They had to be content, however, with 
 painting the buffers, which gratified them exceedingly, more 
 especially as they declared they heard the familiar spirit roaring 
 inside, and that (when the stokers stirred him up) they saw his 
 
AN INDIAN RAILWAY-STATION. 
 
 45 
 
 great wheel-like limbs move. (The wheel, you know, is a sacred 
 symbol wherever Sun-worship has prevailed.) So, as he un¬ 
 doubtedly was a devil, they sought to propitiate him with their 
 accustomed offerings of little bowls of honey and ghee and sugar, 
 and garlands of flowers; then stood by in reverential postures, 
 while he went roaring on his resistless way. 
 
 Nor did their wonder lessen when trains commenced running, 
 and they beheld this tamed and mighty demon rushing to and fro 
 dragging along strings of enormous gharrys, which a hundred 
 bullocks could not have moved. 
 
 Now the novelty is forgotten, the railroad and telegraph rank 
 high among Britain’s best gifts to India, and the crowd of 
 travelling Hindoos equals that of a British excursion train. 
 
 So amazed are these easy-going Orientals by the punctuality of 
 the trains, that, in dread of being late, they generally assemble at 
 the station some hours before the time for starting—often over¬ 
 night. Of course they carry their bedding with them, and as it 
 consists merely of a wadded blanket-cloak of gaily coloured 
 calico (or in the case of the very poor, only of a piece of coarse 
 canvas) one realises how easy of fulfilment was the injunction 
 once spoken in Judea, “Take up thy bed and walk!” So the 
 early arrivals just lie down on the pavement, wrapping their cloak 
 or canvas), tightly over head and body, and look like rows of 
 corpses laid out in order. In due time these chrysalides begin to 
 stir, and then shake themselves up, each revealing a long pair of 
 lean black legs, surmounted by a bundle of raiment, out of which 
 gleam two glittering black eyes. As long as their heads and 
 shoulders are warm, they seem to care little for any chill about 
 the lower extremities. Then they solace themselves, and try to 
 counteract the chill of the night air by a few whiffs of tobacco, and 
 the gurgling of many “ hubble-bubbles ” resounds on every side. 
 
 The carriages are ticketed off, for natives, native women, and 
 Europeans. Some of the upper class natives still find themselves 
 sorely perplexed how to combine railway travelling with the seclu¬ 
 sion of women. Of this I had an amusing illustration, as we 
 were no sooner comfortably ensconced in a carriage set apart 
 
46 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 for ladies, than a gorgeously apparelled merchant brought his 
 wife and her ayah, both closely veiled, and shut them in with us. 
 The former was richly dressed and loaded with jewels, and I 
 hoped at last to get a glimpse of a real native lady. The jealous 
 husband stood at the door, till the train was actually in motion, 
 when he stepped in, chuckling at having got into a carriage where 
 no other man dare follow. The officials were, however, on the 
 watch, and, stopping the train, desired him to get out, as the 
 carriage was reserved for ladies only. In vain he battled and 
 raged, and finally, sooner than leave his wife in my dangerous 
 society, he made her and her attendant get out with all their 
 bundles, and go with him into another carriage. 
 
 As journeys to the far north may involve travelling without 
 a break night and day for sixty hours or more, night travelling 
 has of course to be provided for; so, long before American 
 luxury devised Pullman’s sleeping cars, these Indian carriages were 
 built with a special view to the accommodation of sleepers, not being 
 divided into seats, but left so that one person can lie down 
 comfortably, while the padded back of each carriage is in 
 fact the mattrass of an upper berth, which at night is raised, and 
 fastened to the ceiling with strong straps, so that each carriage 
 affords good sleeping quarters for four persons. Then the 
 bundle of bedding comes into play, though not till the invariable 
 basket of provisions has done its part. 
 
 All the windows have projecting shades to keep off the burning 
 sun, and each carriage has a double roof of white for the same 
 purpose. Some are provided with tanks of cold water, not 
 merely for the comfort of washing (though that is very great, and 
 it is well to secure a carriage with a dressing-room) but as a 
 measure of safety in the fearful heat, when the constant 
 application of wet cloths to the head is one of the best safe¬ 
 guards for such as are compelled to travel. Of the risk involved, 
 one gains some impression by hearing of the number of persons, 
 who, in the stifling summer months, are lifted from the train, 
 stricken with heat apoplexy. In fact the possibility of death 
 from this cause is such a well-recognised danger, that while we— 
 
RURAL LIFE. 
 
 4 7 
 
 the pleasure-seekers—were revelling in the temperate climate on 
 the great hills, we knew that the railway authorities found it 
 necessary to keep coffins ready at every station, to receive such 
 travellers as thus, too quickly, reached their journey’s end. 
 
 For the first few hours after leaving Calcutta, our route lay 
 through rich vegetation and fertile land, made more beautiful by 
 the early lights and the clear golden sunrise, and the balmy 
 morning air was still deliciously fresh and cool. New and full of 
 interest to our eyes were the clumps of waving bamboos, the 
 tamarind and neeme trees, the spreading banyans and slender 
 palms with crown of feathery fronds, and even the hedges of 
 aloes and tall sirkee grass which surround the little mud villages. 
 These are almost invariably marked by the tall pyramidal dome, 
 or the three low rounded domes which respectively denote the 
 Hindoo or Mohammedan shrine. The cottages are half hidden 
 by large-leaved gourds which trail all over them, heavy with golden 
 fruit, and overshadowed by the gigantic glossy leaves of the 
 plantain (the very ideal of tropic foliage), beneath which played 
 groups of odd-looking little brown children, carrying babies as big 
 as themselves. 
 
 So effectually are these cottage homes veiled by the rich foliage, 
 that the casual traveller forms no notion of their multitude—still 
 less does it occur to him that those brown babies form one of the 
 most perplexing questions which harass Indian statesmen. For, 
 thanks to the security of life under British rule (and the removal 
 of many causes of death, which in past generations have checked 
 a too rapid increase of the people), the population of Bengal has 
 actually trebled in the last century, and the land which in a.d. 1780 
 amply sufficed to feed twenty-one million persons, now yields 
 scant sustenance for sixty-three millions, and still (as very early 
 marriage is a religious obligation, binding on every Hindoo, quite 
 irrespective of means of supporting a family) the evil goes on 
 progressively, and the population of India increases at the rate of 
 two and a half millions per annum, so that ten years hence there 
 will be considerably more than twenty-five million hungry extra 
 mouths to feed. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 4 S 
 
 Though much is now being done to relieve the pressure on 
 land, by establishing in different parts of the country great 
 manufactories which give employment to many thousands of 
 the people, nevertheless about ninety per cent, of the rural 
 population have to live almost entirely by tillage of the soil. In 
 old days, when there was more land than there were people to 
 work it, every farmer could select good soil, and the bad was left 
 untilled. Now, every morsel, good and bad, is worked to the 
 uttermost, and compelled to yield two crops annually, though, on 
 the other hand, it is deprived of its needful nourishment; no 
 longer do the jungles yield fire-wood for fuel, so there are no 
 wood-ashes for manure—and the valuable produce of the cow 
 byre is now too precious for the land, and must be converted 
 into fuel. Consequently the land must go on deteriorating. 1 
 
 Talk of our Highland crofters! Here in Bengal there are 
 actually six million small tenant farmers (i.e., two-thirds of the 
 whole tenantry) who pay a rent of less than ten shillings a year, 
 and whose whole existence is one prolonged struggle to extract 
 a living from an unduly small portion of over-worked land. 2 So 
 
 1 Within the last few years, necessity, backed by the persuasion of British 
 officials, has induced the farmers to conquer their caste prejudices against the 
 use of prepared town-sewage. Now the demand is far in excess of the 
 supply. 
 
 - Dr. W. W. Hunter points out that whereas one acre of good soil is the 
 minimum which can yield comfortable support for a human being, and that 
 fertile France averages only 180 inhabitants to the square mile, and Ireland 
 only 169 persons to the same acreage, here, in Lower Bengal, Behar, and the 
 North-West Provinces, there is a vast tract of country as large as the whole of 
 Ireland, which has to support an average of 6S0 persons to the square mile (a 
 mile contains 640 acres) without any allowance for swrnmps, jungles, and other 
 worthless land. Indeed in the province of Benares the population averages 
 about 800 to the square mile, and in the delta of the Lloogly it rises to 1,045 1 
 
 Throughout the whole of British India, exclusive of the more thinly peopled 
 districts of Burmah and Assam, the population averages 243 persons to the 
 square mile, which amounts to about three times the population of the native 
 states. 
 
 From the very elaborate and interesting statistics collected by Dr. blunter, 
 he estimates that of the 63,000,000 of Bengal, forty millions are well fed, ten 
 millions must suffer actual hunger whenever there is a deficient harvest, while 
 
HUNGERING MILLIONS. 
 
 49 
 
 it is to be feared that there is a full share of human suffering and 
 privation in many of the embowered homes, of which the 
 traveller sees only the picturesque side. This, however, has its 
 own interest. 
 
 Everywhere we see the inevitable Brahmin kite, and varieties of 
 brown kites, and every mango tope is alive with thousands of 
 chattering green parrots, exquisite creatures, with most unmusical 
 voices. Bright russet birds sit on the telegraph wires, and blue 
 jays, a thousand times more brilliant than our own, flash in the 
 sunlight with strange metallic lustre. Golden-crested hoopoes 
 also abound, golden orioles, blue king-fishers, black fly-catchers, 
 doves, pigeons and crows, by turns attract our attention. 
 
 So too do certain frameworks, supported on tall single bamboos 
 which are erected near many cottages. These are pigeon-roosts. 
 The Hindoos are great pigeon-fanciers, and delight in flying their 
 flocks against those of their neighbours; it is a favourite 
 amusement in the evenings to sit on the flat house-tops, directing 
 the flight of these tame doves, which ascend or descend, wheel 
 or turn in the direction indicated by their owner, who points out 
 their course with a long light bamboo, like a fishing-rod. 
 
 At the midwinter season the level rice, or as they are here called, 
 paddy-fields, are all flooded, and multitudes of spirit-like white 
 
 thirteen millions are always half starved, and (except during tlie mango 
 season) can never know the comfort of being fully satisfied. Taking the 
 whole of British India, he estimates that two-fifths of the people enjoy a 
 prosperity unknown under native rule—two-fifths earn a fair but diminishing 
 substance— WHILE THE remaining one-fifth, equal to 40,000,000, GO 
 THROUGH LIFE UNDERFED, IN A CONDITION OF CHRONIC HUNGER, and 
 cannot possibly procure two full daily meals of any sort. And yet India 
 annually exports as much food as would support five and a half million persons 
 for a whole year ! 
 
 The most hopeful temporary solution of this difficult problem seems to lie 
 in the present unequal distribution of lands and people, and the hope that 
 large colonies may be induced to migrate to Assam and other regions not yet 
 fully peopled. In short, every question which has recently cropped up in 
 Britain concerning over-crowded crofts in the Hebrides and Scottish High¬ 
 lands, and the advantages and difficulties of emigration thence, is here 
 re-echoed throughout immense tracts of British India. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 cranes paddle about in those shallow waters. I believe the true 
 name of these tall graceful birds is Aboo-gerdan, but they are 
 invariably known as the paddy-birds, a nickname which to the 
 uninitiated suggests the Emerald Isle, but really describes rice in 
 the husk. A favourite feeding-ground of these pretty creatures 
 is the back of the buffalo, and you rarely see a herd of these 
 ungainly brutes without several of these ministering spirits in 
 attendance, their delicate, snowy plumage contrasting strangely 
 with the hideous, dirty creatures on which they perch. The 
 buffalo’s highest notion of bliss is to stand for hours in a muddy 
 tank or stream, with only his nose and his back above water, so 
 that all the small game seek refuge on that dry ridge, and well 
 do the white cranes know what sure covert those little black 
 islands afford. 
 
 The Indian farmer is dependent on his buffaloes and bullocks 
 for all help in his work, as the cart-horse is an unknown animal 
 in Hindostan. Camels and elephants lend efficient aid in 
 transport work, but all agricultural operations are dependent on 
 the strong, patient oxen. 
 
 It is only by noticing such details that we can fully realise the 
 distinctive points of the country through which we are whirled by 
 the swift train, for in truth, the general effect of the scenery bears 
 a strong resemblance to that of England’s midland counties, 
 especially in some of the districts liable to be flooded in rainy 
 seasons. The masses of foliage are especially English. At a 
 very short distance a mango tope might pass for a group of 
 sycamores, while the neeme, tamarind, peepul, &c., more or less 
 resemble oak, ash, or elm. But the crops are richer and taller 
 than those of Britain ; fields of dahl or Indian corn, or of tall 
 sugar-cane, and banana-gardens, and every field is guarded by 
 several watchers, who sit, each in his solitary lodge—a thatched 
 hut, either perched on a tree like some quaint nest, or raised on 
 a skeleton platform of bamboos, that the occupant may be above 
 the reach of the wild beasts, whom he is bound to scare from the 
 crops. 
 
 Speaking of quaint nests, we passed many groups of date palms, 
 
FIRST GLIMPSE OF CREMATION. 
 
 51 
 
 with a dozen or more of the graceful pendant nests of the 
 “baya,” sparrow, sometimes fastened to the fronds by a finely 
 woven grass cord nearly a yard long, and swinging in the breeze. 
 The nest is in the shape of a chemist’s glass retort, and hangs 
 mouth downwards, to cheat the cunning monkeys, grey squirrels, 
 tree-climbing snakes, and other foes, which might glide along the 
 bough. Thus the wise old birds rear their brood in safety in this 
 dainty cradle. 
 
 The weaver-birds and tailor-birds build similar pensile nests, 
 with delicately interwoven fibres of grass, hanging from the light 
 tip of a palm-leaf; but sometimes these cunning builders choose a 
 leaf of the great elephant-creeper and fold and stitch it together 
 with grassy thread, or downy cotton, which, with their long bill 
 and slender feet, they twist till it becomes a fine cord. It is said 
 that at night they stick a fire-fly in the wet clay at the mouth of 
 the nest, to give them light ! 
 
 Our first halting point was to be near the ancient city of 
 Moorshedabad. We therefore left the main line of rail at 
 Nulhattee, whence a branch line brought us to the river Bhagirathi, 
 the most sacred stream of the Ganges. Here a troop of natives 
 quarrelled over our baggage, and finally landed us and it, in an 
 open boat, and so we crossed the river. It was a brilliant moon¬ 
 light, and the steep banks of the stream were lighted by many 
 fires, round which squatted groups of wild-looking creatures, all 
 attractive to the artistic eye. 
 
 One scene especially riveted our attention—the cremation of 
 a Hindoo. It was the first time we had witnessed this strangely 
 impressive ceremony, which, however, we soon learnt to look upon 
 almost as a matter of course, and even with a very decided 
 feeling of preference for its many advantages. To a Hindoo 
 the special sanctity of this particular stream is such that no 
 trouble is spared to bring the dying here, to end their days, and 
 here commit their mortal bodies to the cleansing fire. 
 
 These funeral pyres are rarely kindled till after sunset, when 
 they form a striking feature in the landscape. Wild, weird figures 
 move about like shadows circling round the fires, sometimes 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 tossing their arms aloft as if in wild grief; sometimes stirring up 
 the fires till the merry sparks rush heavenward, crackling and 
 sputtering, and the bright flames leap and blaze and vanish in 
 heavy clouds of dark smoke; while red fires and black shadows 
 and silvery moonlight are alike reflected on the dimpled 
 stream. 
 
 On the further shore a friend’s carriage awaited us, and then 
 followed a two hours’ drive through scenes to which the misty 
 moonlight lent a rare fascination. We passed a succession of 
 old temples, half hidden by rank vegetation, native houses and 
 bazaars, red firelight and dark figures, white mosques and other 
 great buildings appearing through the tall trees. Here and there 
 we came to an open space, where great weird-looking elephants 
 (magnified by the pale moonlight and the mist from the river) 
 were quietly feeding under the dark trees. This was our first 
 sight of the grizzly beasts, so it had all the charm of a new 
 sensation. 
 
 We were in fact passing through the town of Moorshedabad, 
 which Clive described as being a city as extensive, rich, and popu¬ 
 lous as London (the London of a hundred years ago). The fall 
 of the Mohammedan Empire, however, shook its glory, and the 
 fearful famine of 1770 tended further to its decay, so that there 
 are now few remains of the grand old city. The chief lion is the 
 immense new modern palace of the Nawaub Nazim of Bengal, 
 who, with his sons, paid so long a visit to the murky shores of 
 Britain, hoping to induce Parliament to secure to his descendants 
 the same position as he himself still retains, i.e. a sort of monarchy 
 under British supervision. Small as was his chance of success, he 
 yet deemed it sufficient to compensate for years of voluntary exile 
 from his luxurious home, his noble stud of horses, and elephants, 
 and all his oriental splendours, and for the dreariness of several 
 winters in London and Sussex, where wondering rustics followed 
 his priest to the butcher’s shop, to watch so strange a ceremony as 
 that of blessing the animals about to be slain in the name of God, 
 thus making them lawful food for the faithful. 
 
A DESERTED CITY. 
 
 53 
 
 Beneath the great dome of his marble-paved hall is a priceless 
 ivory throne, for the carved ivory work of Moorshedabad is famous ; 
 and on the river float pleasure boats of fantastic forms, one of 
 which is shaped like a gigantic peacock, gorgeously coloured and 
 gilt. On gala days these are draped with rich and brilliant hang¬ 
 ings, well in keeping with the gay dresses of the dusky beauties 
 within. 
 
 Among the ruins of the ancient city, stand a few arches and 
 pillars of a once magnificent palace of black marble, built by 
 Sooraj-oo-Dowlah, who brought the materials thereof from the 
 famous ancient Buddhist city of Gour, which is not far distant. 
 It was once the capital of Bengal, but is now only a wondrous 
 heap of ruins, wave after wave of change having swept over it 
 First the Brahmins overwhelmed the Buddhists, and appropriated 
 their temples. These were next used as quarries by the Moham¬ 
 medans, under whose rule the city waxed great and stately, and 
 of exceeding wealth. It was twenty miles in circumference and 
 was surrounded by a wall sixty feet high. Here beautiful ena¬ 
 melled bricks were manufactured, and from the clumps of dark 
 foliage rose stately domes, whose covering of highly-glazed green 
 or bronze-coloured tiles, glittered in the sunlight. On every side 
 were great fortifications and mosques, and fantastic towers and 
 turrets, while on the sacred river—the Ganges — amid boats in¬ 
 numerable of every size and form, there were constructed floating 
 gardens, bright with all that oriental imagination could devise of 
 luxury and loveliness. On the great festivals these were illu¬ 
 minated with myriads of coloured lights, and must in truth have 
 seemed as a dream of fairyland. 
 
 But three hundred years ago, an awful pestilence broke out. 
 Thousands died daily, burial became impossible — Hindoo and 
 Mohammedan, were alike thrown into the river, and the contagion 
 spread far and near. Then the city was deserted — rank weed 
 overspread the palaces — a thick forest has sprung up in the streets 
 where the wars of conflicting faiths once raged. Now, you can 
 scarcely force your way through this wilderness of deserted halls, 
 
54 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 by reason of the mass of tangled creepers and twisted roots of 
 great trees — an uncared for jungle, wherein tigers and wild beasts 
 roam unmolested. The brilliant river festivals are things of an 
 almost unforgotten past; only at the feast of Beira, the Hindoo 
 maidens still float their tiny lamps in cocoa-nut shells adorned 
 with a few flowers, and watch the fortune of their love. 
 
 In almost those same words, I might describe many another 
 once stately Indian city, to several of which we found our way, 
 spending weeks of delight in exploring tombs, temples, and palaces, 
 once centres of busy life, but now all over-grown with tropical 
 forest, yet retaining the picturesque beauty of their exquisite marble 
 carvings and richly coloured tiles, their sculptured columns and 
 grotesque imagery, rendered all the more striking from contrast 
 with the desolation which now reigns around them. 
 
 To the artist, the archaeologist and the student of strange my¬ 
 thologies, these deserted cities, so fascinating in their ruin, offer 
 an inexhaustible store of interest, while the sportsman and the 
 naturalist find a rich field, wherein to follow their own bent. For 
 many shy and beautiful creatures, birds, beasts and reptiles, now 
 make their homes in forsaken palaces, or wander at large in the 
 gardens, where veiled and jewelled ladies held their dazzling 
 festivals, and life was one long dream of Oriental splendour and 
 intrigue. 
 
 One of the perpetually recurring aggravations of travelling in 
 India, is the impossibility of getting definite information as to 
 what things and places are really best worth seeing. It is so very 
 exceptional to find anyone, who takes the smallest interest in any¬ 
 thing native, unless it has reference to coining rupees. Conse¬ 
 quently the majority of our countrymen generally assert that a city 
 is, or is not, worth visiting, according to their recollections of its 
 commissariat, or the weather, or something equally irrelevant. 
 Thus I have constantly been assured, that there was literally 
 nothing to see at such a place, and yet, have found there materials 
 of beauty and of interest, that have afforded me a perfect feast of 
 delight. 
 
FACILITIES OF MODERN TRAVEL. 
 
 55 
 
 Some of the old native cities are, however, so very beautiful, 
 both as regards their architecture and the surrounding scenery, 
 that even the most casual observer cannot withhold his meed of 
 praise. Such are the cities of Jeypore, Ajmeer, and Oodeypore. 
 The fact, however, that these cities lie a short distance from the 
 line of rail, adds so much to the difficulty of reaching them, that 
 I was compelled to give up all thoughts of seeing these and many 
 like them, and to be content on this northward journey with visit¬ 
 ing such places of interest as lie within easy reach of the railway. 
 Even from these, I very quickly gathered such a store of varied 
 impressions, as few Anglo-Indians of the last generation had a 
 chance of accumulating in a long life-time. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 MID-WINTER ON THE GANGES. 
 
 The Bhagirathi—Tomb of Sooraj-oo-Dowlah—Sacred Jackals—Suicides in 
 Wells—Camp in the Forest—Destruction of Wild Beasts—Pig-sticking — 
 Allahabad—Station Life—The Old Fort—Asoka’s Pillar—Ancient 
 Hindoo Temple—Railway Bridges—Probyn’s Horse—Truth-compelling 
 T rees—Horseshoes. 
 
 It was nearly midnight ere we reached the town of Berhampore, 
 where kind friends welcomed us to their pleasant home in the 
 English settlement, and we did such justice to our new quarters 
 that the sun was up, and our host miles away, pursuing his morning 
 work, before we awoke to share the charming chota liazeri , the 
 Indian “ little breakfast,” of coffee and fragrant fruits. 
 
 Then, looking out, we saw signs of military life, which reminded 
 us that this station is said to have been the cradle of mischief, 
 which resulted in the massacre of Meerut, and the terrible story 
 of 185 7. Here it was that the 19th Bengal Native Infantry, 
 having been found guilty of mutinous conduct, was disarmed and 
 disbanded. Strange to say, however, no further evil resulted in 
 this place. 
 
 And very calm and peaceful it all seemed now as I sat in the 
 pleasant verandah, sketching some fine old Indian-rubber trees in 
 the garden. They have the same growth of stem as the banyan, 
 i.e. very much divided into small stems round one parent mass ; 
 the leaves thick and glossy. Then we adjourned to an open 
 summer-house, looking down on the broad, blue river, the 
 Bhagirathi (a stream held by millions of Hindoos to be the 
 embodiment of all holiness), whereon floated boats of all shapes 
 
ON THE SACRED RIVER. 
 
 57 
 
 and sizes; some with huge square sails all tattered and torn, the 
 boat itself square at bow and stern, with a bamboo framework 
 projecting on either side, to allow more room for the cargo of 
 cotton bales. Wild-looking brown men in the lightest of raiment 
 were floating timber rafts from the up-country jungles, guiding 
 their course with long bamboos ; most of these rafts carry small red 
 
 CARGO BOATS ON THE GANGES. 
 
 flags to propitiate some spirit of wind or water. Each is escorted 
 by a small canoe, formed of a rudely hollowed tree, to enable the 
 men to land when they wish, but they sleep on their raft, beneath 
 a small thatched shelter. The weather was perfect, like a calm 
 English summer, scarcely a leaf quivering in the still, sunlit air. 
 
 After a while we started to explore some of the tombs and 
 temples whose domes appeared at intervals along the wooded 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 banks. We set out on foot, but meeting an elephant belonging 
 to our host we thought it as well to secure a first experience of 
 elephant-riding; clambering up by a ladder, then holding on 
 during the terrific convulsion when the good old beast (who had 
 knelt down to facilitate our ascent) suddenly struggled to his feet 
 again. I am not sure that elephant-riding ever becomes altogether 
 a pleasure, but its discomforts vary greatly with the individual animal, 
 some trudging smoothly along, others jolting hatefully. The 
 construction of seats also varies much in the amount of purchase 
 they afford. In the present instance we captured our grizzly 
 hahti 1 unawares, and rode him quite in the rough, with only a 
 pad, on which we sat poised in fear and trembling. 
 
 Finding our position too precarious to be pleasant, our mahout 
 (driver) bade his charge kneel, and so we clambered down again. 
 The old man was, to our eyes, well-nigh as great a curiosity as his 
 charge ; his grey beard, and hair and eyelashes, contrasting so 
 strangely with the dark brown of his loose wrinkled skin. 
 
 Having rowed across the river, a fatiguing walk through deep 
 sand at last brought us to the tomb, where, shadowed by grand 
 old trees and fair white flowers, lies the dust of Sooraj-oo-Dowlah, 
 the amiable inventor of the Black Hole of Calcutta. 
 
 Superfluous though it may seem to recall that story, I need 
 scarcely say how vividly we realised all its horrid details, here at the 
 tomb of this miscreant, remembering how in the year 1756 this 
 powerful Nawaub, at the head of a large army, attacked the 
 English garrison of three hundred men, who alone defended the 
 “English Factory,” which, standing in a marshy jungle, then 
 represented the Calcutta of the present day. After a gallant 
 defence the Factory was captured, and a hundred and forty-six 
 prisoners were immured in a dungeon eighteen feet square, with 
 only one opening for air, and this, in the stifling heat of a burning 
 Indian summer—a space too small for the confinement of even 
 one European. 
 
 The horrors of that night may be imagined: the piteous cries 
 for mercy; the vain struggles to burst open the door; the prayers 
 1 Hahti, elephant. 
 
BEGINNING OF ANGLO-INDIAN RULE. 
 
 59 
 
 for water; the mad despair in which at last the captives fought 
 with and trampled on one another in the agonising effort to reach 
 the window ; entreating the guards to fire on them and end their 
 torture. The fiends watched them from the window, and replied 
 to their prayers with shouts of laughter. When the morning broke, 
 and the Nawaub called for the prisoners, the soldiers had to pile 
 up the dead to make way for the living to escape. Only twenty- 
 three, more dead than alive, had survived those hours of indescribable 
 horror, and were transferred to wretched sheds and fed with grain 
 and water; some loaded with irons. As to the dead, their burial 
 admitted of no delay, so a great pit was dug into which one 
 hundred and twenty-three bodies were flung, and hidden out of sight. 
 
 Those deaths were swiftly avenged, when, in the battle of Plassy, 
 Clive, with a force of three thousand men, utterly routed the 
 Nawaub’s army of sixty thousand, who fled, leaving guns, camp 
 baggage, and a legion of cattle to the victors, who thus, in fact, 
 became masters of the land, where, hitherto, they had only dwelt 
 on sufferance. 
 
 The Nawaub fled to Rajmahal and sought refuge in a deserted 
 garden, where he was discovered by a Fakeer whom he had 
 deprived of nose and ears ! Now was the hour of vengeance. 
 The young tyrant — he was only twenty years of age—was captured 
 and carried back to Moorshedabad, where he was murdered by 
 order of his successor, and his mangled remains were placed on 
 an elephant and exposed throughout the city, till they were finally 
 interred at the spot where we now stood. 
 
 The Black Hole long continued in use as part of a warehouse, 
 but was at length demolished. Many other horrible stories are 
 current of Sooraj-oo-Dowlah’s amiable propensities; one of these 
 tells how he caused boats to be filled with men and then sank them 
 in mid-stream, that he, sitting in the black marble palace which 
 he had built at Moorshedabad, might watch their drowning agonies. 
 
 We returned home by boat, in the clear, beautiful moonlight. 
 But some of the surroundings were by no means in keeping with 
 its calm loveliness. Several dead Hindoos floated past us, bodies 
 of men so abjectly poor that their relatives could not provide fuel 
 
6o 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 for their funeral pyre. Our boatman ran foul of one, a ghastly 
 object of horror. Vultures innumerable and tall adjutants were 
 quarrelling over every such delicious morsel that drifted ashore, 
 while countless frogs, foxes, jackals, and hyenas blended their 
 voices in one sweet chorus, screaming, croaking, barking, baying, 
 yelling. The piercing shrieks and yells of the latter are about the 
 most unearthly sound imaginable, but one to which we soon got 
 accustomed ; a hungry pack of jackals often careering past our 
 very door, or venturing almost into the verandah. Sometimes they 
 do creep in, and hide in the houses, when they are detected by 
 their fox-like smell. They rarely bite unless molested. There 
 are, however, many stories of their carrying away children from 
 the native huts, which indeed is only natural, as so many of the 
 people worship the jackal as an incarnation of the goddess Doorga, 
 who took this form when she carried the infant Krishna across 
 the Jumna. So these worshippers lay food close to, or even 
 within, their houses as an offering to the jackals, whose stone 
 image is among the idols worshipped in Doorga’s temple. A 
 Hindoo meeting a jackal bows reverently, and should it pass him 
 on the left hand he hails it as a good omen. 
 
 Nevertheless these poor animals are strangely utilised. I was 
 sitting one day among the tall plantains in a garden at Allahabad 
 sketching a picturesque old well, worked by bullocks, and could not 
 think why men were continually coming past with dead pariah 
 dogs and jackals, till I found they were being buried at the roots 
 of the vines to enrich the grapes ! That well, by the way, was 
 very near becoming the scene of a little tragedy 3 for as I rose sud¬ 
 denly to watch a glorious red sunset I kept unconsciously stepping 
 backward, till, literally, I almost felt my foot stayed on the brink, 
 in the very act of stepping down into the horrible blackness—not 
 “ the way home ” that one would choose ! It made me shudder all 
 the evening to think what news that mail might have taken home. 
 
 The method of working most of these wells is primitive 
 to a degree. A long bamboo is poised on an upright stage. 
 A leathern skin is attached to one end, and a heavy weight of 
 earth to the other. A native, fully attired in a small pocket 
 
CONNUBIAL QUARRELS. 
 
 6l 
 
 handkerchief and an enormous turban, stands on the stage, so as 
 to weigh down the bamboo with his foot till the skin reaches the 
 well and is filled, when he removes his foot, and the water 
 bag rises and is emptied by another man. In some places a 
 wicker basket lined with clay is used to raise water for irrigation. 
 
 These wells are a favourite means of suicide among Hindoo 
 women, on the smallest pretext of any domestic quarrel. One 
 magistrate told me that he had been tormented in his district by 
 the multitude of such deaths, being convinced that deliberate 
 murders were being committed at his very door, and yet baffling 
 his powers of detection. At last he succeeded in fishing up one 
 woman alive, and made sure of a full confession. So he promised 
 her protection from all danger if she would betray her murderer, 
 and was considerably taken aback when she indignantly denied 
 having been thrown in, and said she had jumped in of her own 
 free will. When questioned as to her reason for so doing, she 
 replied that her husband had declared she could not bake his 
 chupatties properly, “ and did the sahib imagine that any woman 
 would survive such an insult ?” We have heard of certain Jewish 
 rabbins who allow divorces on grounds so slight that they suffer an 
 aggrieved husband to put away the wife who has only been so un¬ 
 fortunate as to let his soup be singed ; but so deliberate a mode of 
 “ cutting off your nose to spite your face ” as this Hindoo woman had 
 devised to avenge herself on her lord is certainly rather startling. 
 
 New Year’s Eve found us encamped in a beautiful jungle at 
 Dewan Serai; the Nawaub Nazim having got up a great wild boar 
 hunt, to which he invited all the ladies in the neighbourhood, 
 providing elephants on which we should accompany the beaters. 
 Only two ladies were able to go, and were rewarded by a most 
 delightful expedition. A long drive through well-wooded country 
 showed us some fine old banyan trees, and sundry temples. We 
 found the camp pitched under a large group of splendid old mango 
 trees, and had our first experience of those luxurious Indian tents 
 with the invariable black and yellow lining. One large central tent 
 made a first-rate dining-room, where we did ample justice to good 
 fare. Several members of the Calcutta Tent Club were present, 
 
62 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 mustering, in all, seventeen spears. The Nawaub himself was 
 detained by illness until the last morning; his son, however, arrived 
 in time for the sport. 
 
 Nothing can well be conceived more picturesque than such a 
 camp as this, at night; the dark trees on every side, their glossy 
 leaves reflecting the blue moonlight, and their great boles lighted 
 up by the red camp-fires, around which crouch all manner of na¬ 
 tive servants, in groups, according to their caste, with (or without 
 flowing drapery and bright turbans. Beyond the white tents 
 of the sahibs 1 are picketed their horses, and in the nullah 
 below the bullocks are drinking; while tall camels and great 
 dark elephants, and bullock-carts, and brilliantly-curtained native 
 carriages (quaint little ekkas) stand about in all directions, guarded 
 by a multitude of camp followers, and more fires. And all this 
 lies in vivid light and shadow, clear as day, only softened and made 
 beautiful by the dreamy moonlight. 
 
 We sat at the door of our tents, and watched the death of the 
 old year, and the birth of the new one, in a style to us altogether 
 novel—a foretaste of how we should spend very many of its nights. 
 It was bitterly cold, however, and we were thankful to heap on all 
 our warm clothes, and oh! so glad of thick worsted mittens. 
 From the depths of the forest came the eerie cries of the jackals; 
 and we tried to persuade ourselves that we could distinguish the 
 bark of genuine bona fide wolves, which were said to be alarmingly 
 on the increase in this province of Behar. 
 
 Next morning we were off betimes for a genuine day’s “pig¬ 
 sticking.” It was a very pretty field. Fourteen elephants, each 
 with several riders, formed in line to beat the long grass. Of 
 course the gentlemen were mounted, ready to gallop in pursuit of 
 any boars we started. All the morning we were on poor ground 
 and found only three pigs, two of which were slain—not till one 
 of them had shown fight, and severely cut one of the young 
 Nawaub’s horses. No one whose ideas of pigs are limited to the 
 common domestic animal can have any notion of the amount of 
 sport to be obtained from these wild boars of the jungles. Only 
 
 1 Gentlemen. 
 
CENSUS OF WILD BEASTS. 
 
 63 
 
 rouse one of these gaunt, lean creatures from his lair in the tall 
 grass, and he will dash through the thorniest hedges, spring broad 
 ditches, tumble over, and scramble up again, and away he tears 
 over the plain at a pace which will test the energies of the best 
 horse in the field. 1 
 
 1 The official return of our war with wild beasts in British India are 
 suggestive. Between the jears 1875 with 1880 the numbers are as follows : — 
 
 NUMBER OF PERSONS KILLED. 
 
 
 By 
 
 Ele¬ 
 
 phants. 
 
 By 
 
 Tigers. 
 
 By 
 
 Leopards 
 
 By 
 
 Bears. 
 
 By 
 
 Wolves. 
 
 By 
 
 Hyenas. 
 
 1 By other 
 Wild 
 Beasts. 
 
 By 
 
 Snakes. 
 
 187s 
 
 1876 
 
 1877 
 187s 
 
 1879 
 
 1880 
 
 6l 
 
 52 
 
 46 
 
 33 
 
 38 
 
 46 
 
 82s 
 
 917 
 
 819 
 
 816 
 
 698 
 
 872 
 
 204 
 
 156 
 
 200 
 
 300 
 
 2 77 
 261 
 
 84 
 123 
 
 85 
 94 
 
 121 
 
 108 
 
 1,061 
 
 887 
 
 564 
 
 845 
 
 492 
 
 347 
 
 | 
 
 68 
 
 49 
 
 24 
 
 33 
 
 28 
 
 11 
 
 2,015 
 
 1,143 
 
 1,180 
 
 1,323 
 
 1,270 
 
 i,i95 
 
 17,070 
 
 15,946 
 
 16,777 
 
 16,812 
 
 17,388 
 
 19,150 
 
 NUMBER OF CATTLE KILLED. 
 
 
 
 By 
 
 Ele- 
 
 phants. 
 
 By 
 
 Tigers. 
 
 By 
 
 Leopards. 
 
 By 
 
 Bears. 
 
 By 
 
 Wolves. 
 
 By 
 
 Hyenas. 
 
 By other 
 Wild 
 Beasts. 
 
 By 
 
 Snakes. 
 
 1875 
 
 1876 
 
 1877 
 
 1878 
 i' s 79 
 1SS0 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 23 
 
 13 
 
 S3 
 
 12,423 
 
 13,116 
 
 16,137 
 
 13.129 
 
 14.257 
 
 15.339 
 
 17,098 
 
 '5,373 
 
 14,488 
 
 15,101 
 
 17,670 
 
 19,732 
 
 529 
 
 410 
 
 999 
 
 590 
 
 941 
 
 482 
 
 9,407 
 
 12,848 
 
 11,934 
 
 10,497 
 
 12,224 
 
 '3,507 
 
 2,118 
 
 2,039 
 
 1,590 
 
 3,229 
 
 2,378 
 
 2,279 
 
 3,489 
 
 4,573 
 
 5,081 
 
 4,317 
 
 5,615 
 
 4,511 
 
 3,166 
 
 6,468 
 
 2,945 
 
 1,825 
 
 1,874 
 
 2,536 
 
 NUMBER OF WILD BEASTS DESTROYED IN TIIE SAME 
 PERIOD. 
 
 
 Ele¬ 
 
 phants. 
 
 Tigers. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 leopards| 
 
 Bears. 
 
 Wolves. 
 
 Hyenas. 
 
 Other 
 
 Wild 
 
 Beasts. 
 
 Snakes. 
 
 1875 
 
 1876 
 
 1577 
 
 1578 
 1879 
 iS8o 
 
 s 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 1,789 
 
 1,693 
 
 1,579 
 
 1,493 
 
 1,412 
 
 I,68o 
 
 3,5 12 
 3,786 
 3,559 
 3,237 
 3,o6i | 
 3,047 ] 
 
 i, 181 
 1,362 
 
 1,374 
 
 1,283 
 
 1,208 
 
 1,100 
 
 5,683 
 
 6,976 
 
 4,924 
 
 5,067 
 
 5,059 
 
 4,243 
 
 1,386 
 
 1,585 
 
 4,417 
 
 1,202 
 
 942 
 
 1,215 
 
 8,801 
 
 8,053 
 
 9,996 
 
 10,204 
 
 6,947 
 
 3,589 
 
 270,1S5 
 212,371 
 127,205 
 117,958 
 132,961 
 212,776 
 
64 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The object of each pursuer is to get the first spear, in other 
 words, to first draw blood. Sometimes a grim old tusker has 
 pluck to turn and charge his pursuer, and then the luckless steed 
 may chance to get some ghastly cuts before his grisly foe has 
 yielded his life-blood to the rider’s spear. When the brawny boar 
 thus stands at bay he is no mean antagonist, as he stands champing 
 in his rage and covered with foam, his savage little eye glittering 
 and his sharp cutting tusks all ready for work ; and very nasty 
 work he can do if only he can get the chance, as divers men, even 
 pukka shikarees 1 have ere now found to their cost. We heard of 
 one officer in the Rifles, whose horse having been frightfully cut, 
 threw his rider, leaving him at the mercy of the infuriated pig, 
 which literally cut him from head to heel, inflicting upwards of 
 fifty wounds ere his comrades came up to his rescue. 
 
 At midday we halted for tiffin beneath the cool broad shadow 
 of a clump of mango trees, and a very pleasant picnic it was to 
 all except the young Nawaub, who was keeping the rigid fast of 
 Ramazan, and from sunrise till sunset could neither eat, drink, nor 
 smoke. Even at sunset he only allowed himself a cup of tea and 
 a bit of br-ead, content to wait till his return to Moorshedabad at 
 midnight for a more solid repast. 
 
 After tiffin our road lay through most exquisite jungle, chiefly 
 masses of tall feathering bamboos, and glossy plantains with their 
 immense leaves. When we came to clumps so thick that we could 
 not get through, the elephants deliberately broke off branch by 
 branch till they had made an opening high enough to clear our 
 heads. 
 
 The more open country is clothed with a fragrant species of 
 feathery mimosa, commonly called the sweet babool, which at this 
 season is covered with blossom—bunches of little balls of soft 
 yellow fluffy down. To me it recalled a vision of home in long- 
 ago years, when just such a tree grew in the dear old greenhouse, 
 tended by our mother, and its yellow balls were the delight of 
 our childhood. Long ago that fragrant tree outgrew its space 
 and was doomed to perish—while the merry children who played 
 1 First-class sportsmen. 
 
DREARY RETURN TO CAMP. 65 
 
 beneath its shadow have either faded away with the flowers, or 
 changed into weary men and women. 
 
 Thus it was that here in the Indian jungle the sweet yellow 
 blossoms of the mimosa came as spirit messengers, when least 
 expected, recalling a vision of home, and awakening memories of 
 a sunny, flowery past, too radiant for this earth. 
 
 On reaching the grass again we started eight boars in rapid 
 succession, of which seven were speared. The luckless pigs made 
 wonderfully good running, and showed fight moreover, and more 
 than one horse was terribly cut. The excitement was tremendous, 
 but was soon changed to grief, for one fast and furious charge 
 resulted in a list of casualties so serious as to bring the day’s sport 
 to a sudden close. Two men were down, with their horses, one 
 rolling over with the pig, the poor brute already having two spears 
 in him. Worse than all, one rider lay helpless in agony, his horse 
 having rolled over him. He feared his hip was crushed. Merci¬ 
 fully it proved to be a broken rib and a dislocated ankle, but this 
 was not known till next day, when a doctor arrived. Meanwhile, 
 his friends improvised a litter, and carried him slowly back to 
 camp. It was late before the torch-lit procession came in—a 
 very different scene to the morning start, and an anxious night for 
 the watchers. As our fagged elephants slowly trudged campwards, 
 we drearily agreed that our hunting instincts were very imperfect, 
 and (like our radicalisms) were mere theories that could not stand 
 the test of practice ! 
 
 So entirely upset were all our ideas that none even thought of 
 saving the boar’s tusks, so the camp followers divided the spoil, 
 as they always do ; for though the Hindoos have nearly as great 
 an abhorrence as the Mohammedans of tame pigs, some of the 
 lower castes have no objection to wild boar. They have a sacred 
 hog, Baraha, under which form Vishnu was once incarnate, and 
 raised the earth from the depths of ocean on his tusks, and I sup¬ 
 pose that for his sake they make this honourable distinction. The 
 English never seem to think of tasting wild pig, though it must be 
 precisely the same as Westphalian hams, which are so highly 
 prized. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Next morning the Navvaub arrived in person, but his son did not 
 return. His highness is reported to have about forty children, 
 and wives without number. It is said that his burial-ground 
 contains a long border of infant Nawaubs, whose untimely deaths 
 have been the occasion of much lamentation. 
 
 Thinking we had had enough of pig-sticking, the feminine 
 element forsook the camp. Our route lay farther up-country, so 
 we had to return to the railway, our next halt being at Allahabad, 
 which involved about thirty-five hours of consecutive travelling. 
 The dead level of the plains becomes very wearisome. We travelled 
 on and on across an unvarying expanse of flat country, all rich 
 alluvial soil—the deposit of the great rivers, in oft-repeated floods— 
 and unvaried by one rock or crag. The only redeeming point in 
 the general ugliness of the landscape lay in the multitudes of 
 picturesque pilgrims on their way to various shrines, whole families 
 travelling together, from the aged grandfather to the youngest 
 child sitting astride on its mother’s hip. Some of the men carried 
 their children in a couple of baskets slung from a bamboo balanced 
 on the parental shoulder—true devotion indeed—and many had 
 travelled thus for hundreds of miles. Another interest lay in 
 watching the exquisite birds, blue, green, and russet, that perched 
 on the telegraph wires. Our thoughtful friends had provided us 
 with all manner of creature comforts, so we did full justice to a 
 champagne supper, and contrived to sleep tolerably, notwith¬ 
 standing the exceeding cold. We were nevertheless very grateful 
 to a Scotchman who brought hot coffee at daybreak to his un¬ 
 known countrywomen. 
 
 We passed the great coal mines at Raneegunge, which extend 
 right under the bed of the Domooder, a rapid, impetuous torrent, 
 liable to wild floods ; its stream is now bridged by a stately viaduct. 
 The country seemed to become more and more dusty as we pro¬ 
 ceeded : all the green rice-fields lay behind us, and everything 
 looked dry and parched. The air was intensely still, and the hot 
 sunshine seemed to make even the birds heavy of wing. We noted 
 that along the horizon lay a dull brassy red cloud, which was 
 gradually rising. It was a dust-storm rapidly sweeping over the 
 
DIFFICULTIES OF SIFTING EVIDENCE. 
 
 67 
 
 plain. As it approached, the trees were violently tossed and 
 shaken, the ground strewn with the yellow blossoms of the sweet 
 babool tree, branches were torn off—in fact it was a tremendous 
 squall. In another moment we found ourselves in almost total 
 darkness, by reason of the vast mass of floating sand, which was 
 being blown along by the fury of the gale. We had quickly shut 
 every window, yet in it came, so that we were half smothered. 
 These storms are very destructive to houses; so rapidly does the 
 eddying whirlwind approach, that there is hardly time for the pre¬ 
 caution of shutting doors, windows, and shutters, and in some 
 cases the very roofs have been torn off. 
 
 We reached Allahabad at midnight, and here another cordial 
 Scotch welcome awaited me. How pleasant to find blazing fires 
 and hot tea, to say nothing of the very unexpected luxury of a hot 
 bottle in bed ! Could this really be India? I had to send for a 
 tailor next day to manufacture extra flannels ! At the same time 
 he had to make a white cover for my umbrella, as even my thick 
 sun-hat was insufficient for safety when exposed to the sun’s rays. 
 Even in the daytime one step makes all the difference from extreme 
 freshness of the shade into the pleasant but dangerous sunshine, 
 and after nightfall the air is, in the winter months, decidedly 
 chilly. 
 
 We were now for the first time living in a real Indian bungalow, 
 with high thatched roof and pillared verandah. It had, however, 
 a few special features of its own. Here my host held his magis¬ 
 terial cutchery, i.e. court, with his staff of moonshees (writers) and 
 native police. Beneath the broad shade of the neeme, i.e. tamarind 
 trees, waited the crowd of witnesses, those who came from afar 
 having divers quaint carriages; there they sometimes sat for hours, 
 smoking and devising how best to bamboozle the unfortunate 
 magistrate, who, however, was happily gifted with perceptions too 
 keen for the success of their little plots, and, guessing the truth by 
 some intuition, would collect his mass of infinitesimal evidence 
 with an acuteness which reminded me of those Australian trackers 
 who, when searching for the body of a murdered man, suddenly, 
 in the heart of the trackless bush, stopped, and picking up an ant, 
 
 F 2 
 
68 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 examined it minutely, and declared that it carried a minute atom 
 of white man’s flesh. They then watched, and saw other ants 
 running in the contrary direction, and, judging that these were 
 making for the feast, followed, and, sure enough, found the body 
 of him they sought ! 
 
 These Indian bungalows of the plains are always built only in 
 one story. The rooms are large and high, but not so high as the 
 roof. The ceiling is merely a sheet of tightly-stretched canvas, 
 along which we can see little feet running, for the space between 
 the ceiling and the thatch is the home of a multitude of lizards, 
 grey squirrels, and divers other creatures. These Indian lizards 
 are ugly little things, and the Mohammedans wage war against 
 them, and call them “ crab cheese ”—evil things—and vow they 
 bite. This, however, is a mere excuse for killing them, from some 
 preposterous belief that the lizard hangs its head in mimicry of 
 their attitudes in worship. 
 
 This, I think, is one of the few exceptions to the kindliness 
 with which all living creatures are treated—-the Hindoos of course 
 protecting all life—from the ever-present belief in transmigration, 
 and the consequent conviction that every bird or beast may be 
 animated by some spirit once human. At the same time it must 
 be confessed that the manner in which wretched post-horses and 
 waggon-bullocks are maltreated is beyond measure brutal. Never¬ 
 theless, kindness to all living creatures is the general rule, so all 
 manner of living things become tame, and scarcely move away at 
 the approach of man. One family of pretty grey birds is known 
 as the seven sisters ; it is a species of minar which has adopted 
 the number of perfection and always goes about in that company. 
 These assemble outside the bath-rooms, along with the sparrows 
 and the crows, well knowing the hour when the big wooden 
 tubs will be emptied, and the water allowed to rush out, to freshen 
 the roses. So the birds wait for their bath and drink. 
 
 Every bed-room has its own bath-room, with one corner built 
 off by a little wall a foot high, to allow for the process of up¬ 
 setting baths. Along this low wall stand a row of great round 
 water-pots of red earthenware, and before daybreak a bheestie 
 
PRICKLY MATTING. 
 
 69 
 
 walks in with a skin of water just drawn from the well, and fills 
 them all. They are literally round, like balls, so, to prevent 
 their rolling over, there are either hollows in the clay wall on 
 which they stand, or else rings of straw. To lift them you must 
 hold them by the round mouth, and very heavy they are. Here 
 a castor-oil lamp is kept burning all night, as darkness is supposed 
 to be alike favourable to thieves and creeping things, snakes and 
 centipedes. It is astonishing how quickly your instinct teaches 
 you to be on the watch for these. 
 
 For my own part, I had such a morbid terror of finding some 
 creature curled up inside my slippers, that I always took the 
 precaution of keeping these under my pillow, and as to stepping 
 on the floor barefooted, that would have involved an amount of 
 courage to which I could lay no claim—-more especially when the 
 rooms are carpeted with that Indian grass matting of which sharp 
 tiny points are for ever suggesting the presence of stinging 
 creatures. The matting is sometimes made of grass, sometimes 
 of bamboo, or a sort of papyrus which is split when green, and 
 makes a smooth shiny flooring always cool and clean. 
 
 In some of the older bungalows, the bath-rooms and verandahs 
 are coated with chunam, which looks like cream-coloured polished 
 marble. It is a sort of fine lime, made of burnt sea-shells, and 
 supposed to have been mixed with the white of eggs. The secret 
 of its manufacture has however been lost, and no substitute has 
 been found to compare with it. 
 
 Among the household pests especially dreaded, none entail 
 more vigilant precautions than the destructive white ants, creatures 
 no bigger than grains of living rice, whose armies work so swiftly 
 and so silently, that, if left undisturbed for a day or two, they 
 will completely destroy any woodwork to which they take a fancy ; 
 and although from their love of working in darkness they will not 
 touch the outer surface, but leave a most respectable exterior, a 
 touch will soon betray the hollow sham, and prove that nothing 
 remains beneath so fair a show but crumbling dust. So strong is 
 their aversion to light, that, as a general rule, it is sufficient safe¬ 
 guard merely to raise each box or article of furniture on such a 
 
70 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 stand as shall allow a free current of air beneath it. A couple of 
 bricks or empty wine bottles laid like rollers are all that is needed; 
 also, to avoid close contact with the wall. Wherever these busy 
 workers make their way they form for their own safety, secure 
 tunnels of hard mortar, as solid as stone ; sometimes so entirely 
 filling up the woodwork which they have hollowed that it becomes 
 a more solid structure than before, though of a different material. 
 Pictures and mirrors, when fastened to the walls, have sometimes 
 been thus dealt with, all but the thinnest external crust of their 
 wooden framework and back being entirely eaten away, while the 
 glasses remain strongly cemented to the wall itself. 
 
 Countless are the annoyances consequent on books and papers 
 being thus destroyed—indeed goods of all sorts. One tradesman 
 told me he had received a large supply of English goods one day, 
 and unpacked them in the evening. One single night they lay on 
 the ground, and next morning were literally reduced to powder. 
 He showed me his door, apparently of good strong timber, which, 
 however, crumbled at a touch, utterly destroyed ; and the worst 
 of it is, that once they attack a house there is no limit to their 
 devastations, nor any means of knowing which rafter or door-post 
 will next give way. We happily escaped any serious damage 
 from these tiny hidden foes, though sometimes a little ridge of 
 hard earthy cement, running along a door or wall, would mark 
 where they were beginning to tunnel a dark covered way for 
 future operations, thus giving timely warning to experienced eyes. 
 Another race of ants which sometimes proved troublesome are 
 the little red fellows, which attack an ill-cured plume or any such 
 pleasant article of ant-food, and reduce it to very small fragments 
 indeed. 
 
 But the creatures that gave us the most trouble (chiefly in the 
 hills) were the lovely little silvery fish-insects, never exceeding an 
 inch in length, in form just like a little fairy fish, with several 
 minute legs near the head. They chiefly delight in unwashed 
 muslin and paper of all sorts, and their ravages were really 
 without end. Any book left undisturbed on a shelf, any box left 
 unopened for a few days, was sure to be detected by these 
 
LIVING CREATURES. 
 
 7 r 
 
 beautiful innocent-looking silvery creatures, whom it seems so 
 cruel to kill, but who, nevertheless, are so terribly destructive. 
 One day, on unfolding a new piece of muslin, I found it absolutely 
 riddled with holes bitten clean out by these sharp invisible teeth, 
 and on inspecting the case where it had lain I captured fully 
 a hundred of these mischievous little beauties, of every size, down 
 to a mere pin’s point. 
 
 Of larger creatures, not mischievous, none delighted me so 
 much as the little grey squirrels, which make their home in every 
 corner of the thatch and in every old tile on the roof of the 
 gardeners’ sheds. They are the loveliest little creatures, darting 
 in and out in the sunshine. Sometimes I have seen one dart up 
 to my side and carry off a scrap of biscuit or bread, and sit 
 nibbling it in delight, till the great saucy crows with the grey 
 necks came to snatch it from him. Their impudence knows no 
 bounds. I have often seen them carry off bread from a child’s 
 hands, if she chanced to turn her head the other way, to the great 
 amazement of the poor wee woman. And constantly twenty 
 or thirty would come close round the verandah to see whether the 
 large Angola cat could spare any of her breakfast. The cat, in 
 her turn, would sit watching for the entrance of the kitmutgars 
 (table servants), whose bare feet were a source of great delight to 
 her; so she would spring out suddenly and make a dive at them, 
 to the great discomforture of the owners, who, however, have 
 rather a weakness for cats, and are invariably kind to them. 
 
 The said bare feet do at first strike one as peculiar, but one 
 soon learns to bless the noiseless step which makes these white- 
 robed ministering spirits seem to float on air. The excellence of 
 these men as waiters is astonishing. They are so very attentive, 
 so quick and watchful. There is one thing, however, which the 
 Eastern mind cannot master, namely, the propriety of helping 
 ladies before gentlemen—a homage to the sex which they seem 
 determined never to remember. (Of course their own women¬ 
 folk would never presume to touch food till their lords have 
 finished eating.) It is necessary for every one to have a servant 
 to himself, as they have no notion of foraging for any but their 
 
72 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 own master, so that if you intend dining out you must merely 
 mention the fact, and on reaching your friend’s house you will find 
 your servant there ready to attend to you. Possibly your host 
 may not be provided with a sufficient quantity of plate, in which 
 case his head-man will send word to yours that certain things are 
 required. Should you recognise your own crest, you are not 
 supposed to make any comment thereon, as probably your butler 
 may have occasion to borrow in his turn. But after such joint 
 entertainments the kitmutgars have a very solemn division of 
 silver and counting of spoons. Though all alike are dressed in 
 white, a variety of livery is marked by the pattern and colour of 
 the waist-scarf, and of the peculiar flat hat which these men adopt 
 in lieu of turban. 
 
 The only exception to the rule of having to be attended by 
 your own servants is at the table of the Governor-General, where 
 no outsiders are admitted. The servants at Government House 
 are altogether clothed in scarlet, having a shield worked on the 
 breast, bearing the royal arms in gold and colours, and a very 
 gorgeous set of attendants they are—notwithstanding their bare 
 brown feet. It must be confessed that an ordinary English 
 dinner-table does look dull and colourless for lack of these varied 
 ingredients, and the heavy tread of booted attendants sometimes 
 awakens a regret for the silent footfall of our Eastern domestics. 
 
 Among the peculiarities of supply for Indian tables are the 
 mutton clubs, when four families agree to have their mutton 
 properly fed on grant , and killed and quartered, each family in 
 turn getting the head and feet. This arrangement is due to the 
 fact that no meat will keep in the hot weather. Being the sole 
 means of supply, it is edifying to behold joints of the same animal 
 alternately appearing with and without mint sauce, and diversified 
 with the titles of mutton or lamb ! Gram is the name of the 
 dried chick-peas on which cows, horses, goats, and all domestic 
 animals are fed, as are also the natives themselves; consequently 
 the animals are supposed sometimes to be defrauded of their 
 allowance. When such suspicion is afloat, the creatures are 
 brought up to the sahib’s house and made to feed in his presence. 
 
JUNCTION OF RIVERS AND OF RAILWAYS. 
 
 73 
 
 To the new-comer it is somewhat startling at first to see this 
 odd muster for meals in front of the verandah. The objection 
 to “bazaar-fed mutton ” versus “gram-fed,” is that the former is 
 always tough, and is supposed to have fed on all manner of 
 rubbish. The same idea applies to the rich creamy milk of the 
 buffalo, which certainly is an unclean feeder. It is in fact a mere 
 scavenger, and will eat any offal it finds. There is certainly no 
 reason why it should not be fed as carefully as a cow ; however, 
 the prejudice exists, and though the cream and butter are alike 
 good (only very white in colour), no European will make use of 
 them. It is one of the many proofs of the bliss of ignorance and 
 the folly of prying into culinary antecedents ! 
 
 Speaking of milk, the Indian cows have an intense antipathy to 
 losing sight of their calves, which consequently are always brought 
 into the maternal presence at milking hours ; the gwalas (cowmen) 
 declare that the cows will hold their milk if this is not done, so, 
 should the real calf die, they stuff the skin with straw, and allow 
 her to lick that; which she does with perfect satisfaction. 1 
 
 This phase of maternal tenderness did not fail to attract the 
 notice of the early Aryan poets. One of the hymns in the Rig 
 Veda addressed to the Maruts or storm-gods begins by comparing 
 two rivers rushing down from the Himalayas to the sea to two 
 white cows longingly hastening to lick their calves. 
 
 Allahabad has acquired fresh importance to the general public 
 since it has become the point of junction for the two great 
 branches of the railway—Britain’s great gift to India—namely, 
 of the line from Calcutta, and that from Bombay. 
 
 But a far more important junction in the eyes of the Hindoos 
 is that of the two holy rivers—the Ganges and the Jumna— 
 which here unite their sacred waters. 
 
 Just at this point stands the old fort of Allahabad, a grand 
 mass of red sandstone, built by the great Emperor Akbar. It 
 now contains a very large English armoury — great guns and little 
 guns, and cannon and mortars, and all manner of weapons. Here 
 
 1 Just the same thing used to be always done in Scotland, and the sham calf 
 was called a tulchan. 
 
74 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 it was that the English found refuge during the Mutiny; and our 
 friends showed us the balcony, overhanging the river, to which 
 they thankfully hauled up any morsels of food or firewood brought 
 to them by the faithful old servants, whom, however, they had 
 been compelled to dismiss, with the rest of the native attendants, 
 from within the walls of the fort. 
 
 The mutiny in this city was very quickly crushed by the timely 
 arrival of General Neill with his “ Madras Lambs ; ” not, however, 
 till after one awful night, when, the doors of the jails having been 
 broken open, three thousand miscreants were turned loose to lend 
 their aid in burning and plundering the city. Upwards of fifty 
 Europeans were massacred that night, including eight young 
 cadets who had only just arrived from home. 
 
 In the centre of the fort stands a very remarkable monolith, 
 surmounted by a lion. It bears an inscription in the ancient Pali 
 character, and is known as the Lat or Stone of Asoka, a mighty 
 emperor who reigned in Behar in Northern Bengal about 250 b.c., 
 and who, (having zealously embraced the tenets of Buddha,) 
 established Buddhism as the state religion. 
 
 So he convened a Council of one thousand yellow-robed elders 
 to revise the Buddhist Scriptures, and sent forth missionaries into 
 all lands, to preach its doctrines for the saving of mankind. He 
 founded so many religious houses that his kingdom is said to have 
 been hence called Behar from Vihara, i.e. the Land of Monasteries, 
 and 64,000 priests are said to have been supported by the Imperial 
 alms. In order that none might suffer through ignorance of the 
 Way of Life, he published edicts proclaiming the principles of the 
 faith, and these were deeply engraven upon rocks and caves and tall 
 pillars, throughout the length and breadth of Hindoostan. He is 
 said to have erected 84,000 such memorials, of which at least 
 forty remain legible to this day. 
 
 One of these is at the Buddhist caves of Karli, and is called the 
 Lion-pillar. It is a sixteen-sided monolith, surmounted by four lions. 
 Another exists at Delhi, in the ruined fort of Togluck, though it is 
 called after Feroze, a very modern emperor, whereas Asoka was, as 
 we have seen, a mighty prince of pre-Christian ages. His pillars are 
 
THE ROCK EDICTS OF ASOKA. 
 
 7 5 
 
 sometimes surmounted by lions, sometimes by human figures, 
 overshadowed by the seven-headed cobra, or some other emblems 
 of power, such as the mystic umbrella—symbolical of Buddha—of 
 which sufficient trace remains to be recognised, though time and 
 weather have in the course of two thousand long years worn away 
 the distinct form. Very similar pillars are at the present day 
 erected in Nepaul, whereon are placed statues of kings, sometimes 
 shaded by an umbrella made of metal—and in one instance by the 
 serpent hood. 
 
 The pillar is not the sole representative of diversity of creed 
 that exists within the huge Mohammedan fort, a fort now held by 
 Christians, who have fitted up one of Akbar’s buildings as a 
 military chapel, wherein service is held daily. Half-way be¬ 
 tween this Christian church and the Buddhist pillar there still 
 exists a Hindoo temple of exceeding sanctity, though how the 
 Mohammedans came to tolerate its existence within their fort is a 
 marvel quite beyond comprehension. It is a foul temple of dark¬ 
 ness, extending far underground, and roofed with low arches. We 
 descended by a flight of dark dirty steps, dimly revealed by a 
 couple of tallow candles; and we followed the old soldier who 
 acted as our guide, and who led us along dark passages, and did 
 the honours of various disgusting idols, stuck in niches, some as 
 large as life, others quite small, but all alike hideous, and all 
 adorned with flowers, and wet with the libations of holy Ganges 
 water, poured upon them by the faithful. The flowers are the 
 invariable large African marigold and China roses. 
 
 Each image is generally smeared with scarlet paint, to symbolise 
 the atonement of blood that should be offered daily, but which 
 most of the worshippers are too poor to afford. This substitute 
 for the sacrifice of blood is common all over India, where a daub 
 of red paint administered to the village god is at all times an 
 acceptable act of atonement. These village gods, however, are 
 generally placed beneath some fine old tree, with the blue sky 
 overhead ; but this disgusting temple was one which you could not 
 enter without a shuddering impression of earthly and sensual 
 devil-worship. 
 
76 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Here we were also shown a budding tree, supposed to be of 
 extraordinary antiquity ; a fiction by no means shaken, though the 
 Brahmans frequently substitute a new tree. So holy is this temple 
 that when, at one time, all natives were excluded from the fort 
 one rich Hindoo pilgrim arrived and offered twenty thousand 
 rupees for permission to worship here. The commandant, however, 
 had no authority to admit any one, so was compelled to refuse his 
 prayer, in spite of so tempting a bait. It was with a feeling of 
 thankful relief that we emerged from that noxious and. oppressive 
 darkness into the balmy air and blessed sunlight. 
 
 We spent some pleasant hours in one of the balconies over¬ 
 hanging the river, while in the cool room within fair women with 
 musical voices accompanied themselves on the piano, in Akbar’s 
 old quarters ; and so we idled away the heat of the day till the red 
 sun sank into the water, behind the great dark railway bridge—a 
 bridge which the Brahmans declared the gods would never tolerate 
 on so sacred a river as the Jumna, but which nevertheless spans 
 the stream in perfect security. It was a vast undertaking, as, 
 owing to the great extent of country subject to inundation during 
 the rains, it was necessary to construct a bridge well-nigh two 
 miles in length. The Indian railway has certainly necessitated an 
 amazing amount of work, on a scale so vast as to test engineering 
 skill to the uttermost, and in no respect more strikingly than in the 
 construction of these monster bridges, one of which, across the 
 Soane, is about a mile and a quarter in length, while that on the 
 Sutlej, between Jellunder and Loodiana, is about two miles and 
 a half, being probably the longest bridge in the world. 
 
 On the sandbanks just below the fort, huge mud-turtles lay 
 basking, and the gentlemen amused themselves by taking long 
 shots at them from the balconies, whereupon the creatures arose 
 and waddled into the water with a sudden flop. These sandbanks 
 are favourite haunts of crocodiles— muggej's, as they are called— 
 which, however, declined to show on this occasion. 
 
 Perhaps the pleasantest of our afternoons at Allahabad was one 
 spent in watching the evolutions of the native cavalry, Probyn’s 
 Horse, a beautiful regiment, whose graceful dress, and still more 
 
PROBYN’S HORSE. 
 
 77 
 
 graceful riding, were always attractive. On this occasion they 
 were playing the game of naza bazi, or the game of the spear, 
 when, riding past us singly at full gallop, they with their long 
 spear split a wooden tent-peg driven hard into the ground. Then 
 they picked a series of rings off different poles; afterwards, with 
 unerring sword, cleaving a succession of oranges, stuck on posts, 
 
 CROCODILES BASKING IN THE SUN. 
 
 as though they were foemen’s skulls. Next followed some very 
 pretty tilting with spear against sword. We had only one fault to 
 find—their strokes were so unerring that they never allowed us the 
 excitement of a doubt ! Altogether, it was the prettiest riding 
 imaginable, and a beautiful game. 
 
 The change from the fresh greenness of Lower Bengal, where 
 the whole air seemed scented with the fragrant wild babool trees, 
 
78 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 to the dried-up country round Allahabad (and indeed all the 
 North-west Provinces) was positively startling. Thick layers of 
 white dust, inches deep, lay everywhere. The rains had proved a 
 delusion, and it was said that in the previous twelvemonth there 
 had literally been only two wet days. Consequently famine was 
 imminent, and daily prayers for rain were offered, not only in the 
 churches, but in all the temples, and still there was no sign of its 
 coming, though every day as we looked at the grey, almost English 
 sky, with soft fleecy clouds, some deluded being would say, 
 “ Why ! I do believe it is going to rain ! ” Once or twice half a 
 dozen drops did manage to fall, as though some angel had shaken 
 a dewy wing above the parched city, and then the temples began to 
 beat tomtoms and to rejoice aloud, but they soon found out their 
 mistake, and renewed their prayers for the blessing so long with¬ 
 held. Even then famine-stricken wretches were coming in from 
 the country seeking food ; and in truth it is difficult to imagine how 
 life could be sustained on less than the regular allowance of these 
 poor creatures—a little rice and pulse, nothing more. 
 
 For one of the many peculiarities of this strange Hindoo race 
 is that they are practically vegetarians, so that animal food scarcely 
 counts at all in the feeding of this great nation, whose unswerving 
 obedience to rigid ecclesiastical law, would compel them to starve 
 in presence of countless herds of sheep and oxen, even supposing 
 that these could survive the drought. The highest feast of these, 
 our brown brethren, is more meagre than a European fast, for 
 since fowls are deemed unclean, eggs are of course prohibited, 
 and although caste rules allow about 80 per cent, of the Hindoos 
 to eat fish when they can get it, both the poverty of the consumer, 
 and the scarcity of the supply, tend to make even this item less 
 important than we might suppose. In fact, the very serious 
 decrease of the fish supply in recent years furnishes a remarkable 
 and distressing illustration of the manner in which the increase of 
 the people acts on the commissariat generally. 
 
 The increased demand has caused the fisher castes to work 
 harder and with finer nets. So close is the mesh that scarcely a 
 stickleback could escape. Traps, nets, baskets-—every sort of 
 
DECREASE OF THE FISH SUPPLY. 
 
 79 
 
 contrivance for fish capture has been worked to the uttermost ; 
 all means, fair and foul, even to draining off the water from ponds 
 and streams. No close time is observed. The young fry are 
 captured and sold by the thousand. Even the spawn is collected 
 for food! No wonder that in some districts the waters are 
 already utterly exhausted, and the fisher caste have had to take 
 to agriculture. Now the frogs are eagerly collected, and classed 
 as fish ! 
 
 But in the present instance, the question was much more 
 serious than the lack of what, to the Hindoo, is merely a luxury. 
 Now the danger lay in the probable failure of all fruits of the 
 earth, and the near approach of an appalling famine. 
 
 In addition to the compulsory hunger already being endured 
 by multitudes of Hindoos, the Mohammedans were fulfilling a 
 religious obligation in keeping their rigid fast of Ramazan, and 
 were consequently growing daily leaner and more lean. 
 
 At length the fast was over, and the festival of the Buckra Eed 
 followed, when goats are killed and eaten sacramentally in 
 remembrance of the sacrifice of Ishmael on Mount Ararat by his 
 father Abraham, which was duly averted by a Heaven-sent goat. 
 Then the whole Mohammedan male population arrayed itself in 
 fair linen, with gorgeously embroidered waist-scarfs and turbans 
 and went forth to worship in the mosques (or musjids as they are 
 called in India), and thence came to visit some grand old tombs 
 in the Kooshroo Bagh, where we were sketching : so we surveyed 
 them at our leisure. Bagh means garden, and here four tombs, 
 each the size of a great church, mark the resting-place of the rajah 
 of the glad face, and his wife, brother, and friend. The tombs 
 are stately buildings, crowned with a great dome. They are 
 still shadowed by some very fine old tamarind trees, though the 
 finest specimens of these trees, unequalled for size and beauty, 
 were cut down a very few years ago, by order of some tasteless and 
 senseless magistrate. There were formerly beautiful avenues of 
 these trees all round the towns, but these likewise have disappeared 
 before the insatiable thirst for “ improvements,” and sorely their 
 want is now felt along those broad dusty roads. 
 
8o 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 It is unfortunately not very often that the “ improvements” take 
 the form of planting with a view to creating shady boulevards, 
 but even in this beneficent act a European is liable to find that 
 he has unintentionally run against some native superstition, as was 
 the case with a magistrate who thought he would confer a great 
 benefit on the town by planting pipal trees (Ficus religiosa) in the 
 market-place. To his astonishment the buniahs (tradesmen) came 
 to tell him frankly that, as these trees are so sacred that no Hindoo 
 dares utter a false word or do an unjust act beneath their shadow, 
 their presence in the market-place would make it quite impossible 
 to carry on business ! So these beautifully picturesque trees are 
 generally found apart from the business quarter, near to wells or 
 temples, where their truth-compelling presence is less embarrassing. 
 If no temple is near, a rude stone god placed beneath the sacred 
 tree reminds all men of its sanctity. 
 
 Outside the Kooshroo Gardens is a large caravanserai, formerly 
 a great halting-place for caravans, and crowded with camels, 
 elephants, and bullocks ; but the omnivorous railway has absorbed 
 so much of the traffic that the travellers who now rest here are 
 comparatively few. But there is still a picturesque bazaar beneath 
 the trees, with great gates on either side, and a deep, cool well, 
 where the women come to draw water and rest a while beneath 
 the great pipal tree. 
 
 The principal gateway here is thickly studded with horse-shoes 
 of every size and make. There are hundreds of them nailed all 
 over the great gates, doubtless the offerings of many a wayfarer 
 who has long since finished his earthly pilgrimage. We could not 
 find out what was the exact idea connected with this custom— 
 probably much the same notion of luck as we attach to finding 
 a horse-shoe (especially one with the old nails still in their place !). 
 We afterwards noticed that the sacred gates of Somnath, preserved 
 in the fort at Agra, are similarly adorned. It reminded us of that 
 curious old manorial right still kept up at Oakham in Rutlandshire, 
 where every peer of the realm is bound, the first time he enters the 
 town, to present a horse-shoe to be nailed on the old portal, which 
 is well-nigh covered with these lordly tributes. It is said that in 
 
TIIE LUCK OF IIORSE-SIIOES. 
 
 81 
 
 case any contumacious peer should refuse to pay this tax, the 
 authorities have a right to stop his carriage and levy their black 
 mail by unshoeing one of the horses. To avert so serious an 
 annoyance the tribute-shoe is generally ready, some being of 
 enormous size, and inscribed with the name of the donor. Whether 
 these Eastern horse-shoes were taxes or offerings I cannot tell ; but 
 it certainly is very curious to observe how widespread is the 
 superstitious reverence attached to this particular form. 
 
 It has been suggested, and apparently with some reason, that 
 in ancient pagan times it may have been a recognised symbol in 
 serpent-worship, and hence may have arisen its common use as a 
 charm against all manner of evil. The resemblance is obvious, 
 more especially to that species of harmless snake which, like our 
 British blindworm, is rounded at both ends, so that head and 
 tail are apparently just alike. The creature moves backwards 
 or forwards at pleasure ; hence the old belief that it actually had 
 two heads and was indestructible, as even when cut into two 
 parts it was supposed that the divided heads would seek one 
 another, and re-unite. It stands to reason that in a snake¬ 
 worshipping community, such a creature would be held in high 
 reverence. 
 
 Even in Scotland various ancient snake-like bracelets and 
 ornaments have been found which seem to favour this theory ; 
 and at a very early period both snakes and horse-shoes seem to 
 have been engraven as symbols on sacred stones. We hear of 
 the latter having been sculptured, not only on the threshold of 
 old London houses, but even on that of ancient churches in 
 various parts of Britain. And in the present day we all know 
 the idea of luck connected with finding one, and how constantly 
 they are nailed up on houses, stables, and ships, as a charm 
 against witchcraft. In Scotland, and all parts of England and 
 Wales, and especially in Cornwall (where not only on vans and 
 omnibuses, but sometimes- even on the grim gates of the old 
 gaols), we may find this curious trace of ancient superstition. 
 Whatever may have been its origin, it certainly is remarkable that 
 it should survive both in Britain and in Hindoostan. 
 
 G 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HINDOO PILGRIMS AND LIVING WATERS. 
 
 Water-supply—Three Holy Rivers—Death on the Ganges—Brahmans—The 
 Holy Fair—Yogis — Barbers — Jewels — Suicides — Cholera Centres— 
 Pilgrimages of brown men and white. 
 
 One of the first points which attracts the notice of a traveller 
 in Hindoostan (naturally on the alert to mark peculiarities of 
 social life) is the picturesque Oriental simplicity of the water- 
 supply. There is no laying of pipes or taps, or even pumps. In 
 some of the large towns a small rivulet of pure sparkling water 
 is brought to the very doors of the people, by an open 
 channel carried along the main street. This, however, is 
 exceptional. As a general rule the people are dependent on 
 their wells, and around these at all hours of the day, but more 
 especially at the outgoings of morning and evening, they as¬ 
 semble in groups most fascinating to the artistic eye. The more 
 crowded the city, the more abundant are the wells, yielding an 
 unfailing supply to the thirsty throng who come to fill their great 
 red earthenware jars, or brightly polished brazen lotas. 
 
 Many of the finest wells are presented to the city by some 
 wealthy citizen for the use of the wayfarer and the poor, as an act 
 of merit—a profitable investment in the treasury of a future life. 
 Others, with the same end in view, erect temples, to which are 
 attached tanks for ceremonial ablutions : for every Hindoo, man, 
 woman and child, must worship before he dares break his 
 
THREE HOLY RIVERS. 83 
 
 morning fast, and he may not pray till he has washed himself 
 and his raiment. 
 
 I was particularly struck by some very fine wells in Allahabad 
 (“ bowlies ” is the correct word), to which the people descend 
 by a broad flight of steps into a world of cool shadow, so pleasant 
 after the glaring sunlight that one feels tempted to linger a while 
 with those groups of water-carriers who are filling their buffalo 
 skins from the deep well far below for the use of ordinary 
 mortals. The higher castes, however, would be defiled by water 
 that had been drawn in a leathern bucket, which being an animal 
 substance is unclean; therefore each man and woman brings his 
 or her own brightly polished brazen lota, which, by means of a 
 long cord, is lowered to the well. The whole scene is fresh and 
 clean and pleasant. 
 
 The tanks and wells are, however, by no means the chief 
 attractions of Allahabad, “ the city of God,” to the water-loving 
 Hindoos ; for here the clear sacred waters of the deep-blue 
 J iimna unite themselves with the still holier Ganges, or rather 
 flow into one channel; for the pure waters seem loth to mix 
 themselves with the foul yellow uncleanness of that muddy stream, 
 and the two colours flow on side by side, yet never mingling, for 
 some distance — just like the waters of the Arno and the Po. 
 Devout Hindoos believe that a third river, the Sarasvati, here 
 invisibly joins the other two, flowing underground, and this 
 mysterious mingling of three holy waters fills these simple nature- 
 worshippers with reverential awe. They recognise in the triple 
 stream the presence of three goddess mothers, whom they worship 
 as such; hence this sandy shore is accounted very near to 
 Paradise, and death here is well-nigh as desirable as at Benares 
 itself. 
 
 So the dying are brought here to receive extreme unction 
 according to their creed. Once laid beside the holy stream, 
 they must on no account venture to rally. They have been 
 brought there to die, and die they must. A drink of Ganges 
 water they may have — possibly Ganges mud shortens their 
 dying agonies — but at sunset friends may, if they please, return 
 
 G 2 , 
 
84 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 home, in which case the crocodiles probably dispose of their 
 relations. 
 
 Should a man thus lefi, obstinately survive and be rescued by 
 any European, the poor wretch dares not return to his family, 
 as he is considered to be wiped out of the book of the living. 
 Instances have been known of men thus saved continuing for 
 years in the service of their European deliverer ! I am told that 
 the village of Chagdah, about fifty miles from Calcutta, is inhabited 
 solely by such unhappy outcasts as have thus presumed to 
 recover, after having been prematurely consigned to the Ganges ! 
 But as a general rule the poor carcase becomes the prey of 
 beasts and foul carrion birds, and as you walk along the shore 
 your foot may stumble on a half-gnawed skull. Of course the 
 relations ought to return in the morning to cremate their dead, 
 but if the body should have disappeared there is no occasion for 
 anxiety, as no animal would drag it away from the river, which 
 sooner or later will rise and claim the bones, and so secure the 
 salvation of the dead, for the touch of Ganges water purifies 
 from all sin. Even in the case of a man so wicked that his spirit 
 had become a malevolent demon, the fact that wild beasts found 
 his body and dropped the gnawed bones, on the brink of the 
 river, whence they were floated away, the magic of the waters 
 availed, and the man was rescued and transferred to Paradise. 
 
 Along these sands stalk the tall adjutants (the six foot-high 
 grey cranes), seeking what fresh feast the stream has provided. 
 Everything comes alike welcome to their voracious maw. Even 
 tortoises have been found, shell and all, in their inside. In short, 
 they are invaluable scavengers, and consume an incredible 
 amount of pestilential filth. This, together with the Hindoo 
 belief that the souls of Brahmans, of dubious holiness, pass into 
 the adjutants, makes it a very evil act to destroy one; so they 
 are rarely molested. 
 
 The Levites of Hindoostan show a wise forethought in 'thus 
 protecting their possible asylum, for it is said that more crimes 
 are committed by the Brahmans than by any other caste, in¬ 
 asmuch as they live in such comfortable certainty of ultimate 
 
ALLAHABAD. 
 
 35 
 
 safety, that they indulge in comparative recklessness as concerns 
 this world’s laws — little heeding the penalties which, after all, 
 can but kill the body. It does not however follow that these 
 sinners are priests, for the caste includes a multitude of laymen— 
 there are lay Brahmans and clerical Brahmans — men of very 
 mixed descent 1 or of pure Aryan blood. The latter are, in general, 
 noble-looking men with clear-cut handsome features, possessing 
 moreover, in a strong degree, the proud calm dignity of de¬ 
 meanour that we are wont to attribute to the conscious aristocracy 
 of many generations ; and that not of this world only, for so 
 great is the power of the Brahmans that the gods themselves 
 tremble at their wrath ! 
 
 According to Indian mythology, even the great Indra, having 
 been cursed by a Brahman, was hurled from his own heaven and 
 turned into a cat ! This being an article of the Hindoo creed, 
 it follows that the reverence of the people for the members 
 of this favoured caste is altogether boundless; no nation in the 
 world is more thoroughly priest-ridden, and well do the Brahmans 
 know how to keep the ignorant herd in subjection. 
 
 One of their grand opportunities occurs at Allahabad (or as 
 the Hindoos would say, at Prayaga, i.e. “ The Confluence,” for 
 Allahabad is the name given by the Mohammedans), in the middle 
 of January, when the receding waters, having left a broad 
 expanse of sand between the stream and the fort, a vast number 
 of Hindoos assemble from every part of the Empire to celebrate 
 the Magh Mela, or January fair — the new year festival of good 
 cheer which marks that the sun has commenced its northward 
 course. 
 
 This great festival commenced a few days after our arrival at 
 Allahabad, so we had a full opportunity of studying its charac¬ 
 teristics. Day after day, from every quarter, the pilgrim band 
 came straggling in, men, women and children — weary and foot¬ 
 sore, and heavy laden, pressing on to bathe in the dirty sacred 
 river, and (simpler than children in holding the faith they have 
 
 1 On the creation of non-Aryan Brahmans, refer to Chapter VII. and 
 Chapter XXII. 
 
86 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 been taught) here to seek calm of spirit, pardon, and relief, as 
 the reward of their hard and weary pilgrimage. Some had come 
 on foot from such far-away places that they had been months on 
 the roads. Many who started with them had died by the way' 
 from the hardships they had undergone. But these had reached 
 their bourne, and one dip in that sacred flood is a sure passport 
 to heaven. So there was great gladness among these myriads, 
 though many faces still looked sadly haggard, and anxious, and 
 careworn. 
 
 Of course on such an occasion as this there are always vast 
 numbers present to whom the scene is merely a merry fair—the 
 Mohammedans, for instance, to whom the whole thing would be 
 a farce but for the excellent opportunity afforded for selling their 
 wares. However, whether for devotion or for gain, the people 
 assemble in thousands, and it is a scene of noisy hubbub, and 
 colour and motion, such as you can see nowhere but at these 
 festivals. 
 
 Along the wide expanse of sand at the junction of the rivers 
 a regular encampment is made, branching from one central main 
 street of a mile or more in length, which is the extempore bazaar, 
 where the Mohammedans drive a keen business, while their Hindoo 
 brethren are intent on “ making their souzds,” as our friends from 
 the Emerald Isle described it. 
 
 Everything you can possibly imagine is there displayed, both 
 of native and belatee (foreign) goods, and there are booths 
 exclusively for the sale of idols. Every hideous and horrible 
 god that ever was devised is there for sale; and to make these 
 more attractive, the loathliest Yogis (the Hindoo equivalent of 
 the Mohammedan Fakir) sit with their disgusting children in 
 groups, painted from head to foot so as to represent these in¬ 
 teresting idol families in tableaux vivants. These horrible 
 creatures lay sprawling about the sand in every direction, in 
 revolting attitudes, to excite the public to almsgiving; and it 
 stirred up one’s indignation to see the real pilgrims so 
 ready, out of their deep poverty, to bestow their poor alms on 
 these foul idlers, generally giving to each one handful of grain 
 
RELIGIOUS MENDICANTS. 
 
 37 
 
 from their own meagre store. This grain is thrown into a cloth 
 which lies beside each Yogi, and on which all manner of dirt 
 and dust also falls, so it is afterwards sifted. 
 
 The days of self-torture, when these dirty saints “ sought to merit 
 heaven by making earth a hell,” are gone past. They are now 
 merely mendicant friars, owning no brotherhood, nor superior. 
 Sometimes, indeed, they are credited with the merit which attaches 
 to perpetual fasting, but the irreverent foreigner suspects them of 
 making a tolerable living off the offerings which they collect for 
 the gods. They never work, and in general, instead of clothes, 
 they merely paint bands and streaks of colour round their eyes, 
 their cheeks, mouth, and nose, marking each rib with a line of 
 white paint, and perhaps adding a few mystic signs and characters. 
 Round their neck probably hang strings of heavy black beads, 
 which are the rosaries on which they number certain oft-reiterated 
 sacred texts, or attributes of the gods. Foully dirty, long elf 
 locks matted with sacred cow-dung and ashes fall over the 
 shoulders of these horrible gaunt figures. 
 
 Many of them travel from end to end of the Empire, carrying 
 a framework covered with red cloth and adorned with tall pea¬ 
 cocks’ feathers and bells, to contain jars of sacred water from the 
 Ganges or the still more holy Nerbudda . 1 Of this they sell a few 
 drops at high prices to those who can afford to anoint their idols 
 with an offering so exceedingly precious (though the profane 
 Briton is apt to believe that the precious jars have often been 
 filled at the nearest ditch ! 
 
 Others wander about the country escorting some specially 
 sacred animal—a monkey or a cow. I was much attracted by a 
 beautifully sleek little dwarf cow, adorned with a head-dress of 
 peacocks’ feathers, and decorations of crimson cloth embroidered 
 with the lucky cowrie shells; she wore ornamented anklets of 
 
 1 The sanctity of the Nerhudda has recently become so great that the very 
 sight of it cleanses from all sin. Its purifying power extends to all the waters 
 within thirty miles of its course. To obtain the merit of the Ganges, the 
 sinner must be sprinkled with its life-giving waters. Moreover, it is only the 
 north bank of the Ganges that is specially advantageous for cremation. 
 
88 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 brass, and a brass bell hanging from her neck. Another 
 picturesque saint was leading a very handsome white bull,, 
 similarly adorned with brass bells, coloured cloth, and gay worsted 
 tassels, but in addition to his crown of peacocks’ feathers, a yak’s 
 tail was so arranged above the hump on his shoulders, as to form 
 a waving plume; near him stood a wandering minstrel, not 
 over-burdened with drapery, playing on an ektara, i.e. a violin 
 formed of a split gourd with only one string, but enriched by a 
 tuft of peacocks’ feathers. 
 
 By the way, Allahabad owns a genuine Hindoo edition of St. 
 Simeon Stylites—namely a Yogi who for upwards of half a 
 century, has sat on a raised stone-pedestal, regardless of sun, 
 wind, or rain, and receiving devout homage from the people 
 who look upon him as exceedingly holy. In one point he is 
 certainly superior to St. Simeon, in that he goes daily to the Ganges 
 to bathe. 
 
 To turn to the real pilgrims, to whom this sacred bath is a 
 matter of such intense earnestness. None may venture into the 
 river till he has committed himself to the care of some of the 
 innumerable pragwallahs or priests, whose three-cornered flags 
 flutter all along the shore. One of these men kindly receives 
 his offerings, and escorts him to the river bank. But first he 
 must be completely shaven from head to foot, leaving only one 
 celestial tuft at the back of the head. He has abstained from 
 visiting his barber for some time previously, so the sand is literally 
 strewn with fine silky black hair, of which, at the close of the day, 
 we saw piles five or six feet in height! 
 
 This ought to be cast into the Ganges, but in these modern 
 days when all things are utilised, we observed men going about 
 with sacks, collecting raw materials for chignons and frisettes, for 
 foreign women. Hindoo women are supposed to be superior 
 to the use of such abominations. To wear false hair is deemed 
 irreligious and defiling, therefore a woman of proper principles 
 would sooner be bald than wear such a substitute for her 
 magnificent raven locks. Mohammedan women however have no 
 such scruples, and we were told by a lady whose own black hair 
 
OFFERING HAIR. 
 
 89 
 
 had fallen freely during the hot weather, that her ayah told her 
 afterwards that she had made for herself a beautiful plait of the 
 hair she had daily saved ! 
 
 A Hindoo woman glories in her glossy tresses, and being shorn 
 of these is one of the bitter trials of widowhood. Only on such 
 a great occasion as this sacred bathing does a woman ever 
 voluntarily sacrifice one hair. Here at the junction of the holy 
 rivers it is deemed the honourable privilege of a good wife, with 
 her husband’s sanction, to offer the tips of her long hair, which are 
 most solemnly cut off by the priests with golden scissors, while 
 reciting prayers and verses from the sacred books. The hair 
 thus sacrificed is laid on a metal dish, with a gift of coin from the 
 husband. The priest takes the coin, and the holy rivers receive 
 the hair, the husband proving his consent by pouring water into- 
 the hand of the priest—a ceremony which might remind a 
 Ross-shire Scot of the curious custom of thumb-licking, which in 
 some districts is still the approved method of sealing a bargain ! 1 
 
 As regards the men, this clean shave, followed by a plunge into' 
 the sacred living waters, is a most effectual means of obtaining 
 remission of the direst sin. How vile soever they may have been,, 
 they emerge from this blessed bath as new regenerate creatures. 
 
 Men, women, and children all bathe together with the utmost 
 solemnity, at the same time washing their clothes, so that they 
 may come forth altogether pure; and very clean and fresh they 
 certainly appear, in spite of the filthy condition to which they 
 have reduced the water. It certainly is curious to see the Hindoo 
 women thus composedly bathing in mixed company, clad only in 
 a single fold of the very finest wet muslin, whereas, if you meet 
 them On land, they will at once turn their backs and drag their 
 cloth quite over their head. Certainly in so doing they display a 
 great deal more than their ankles, but that is quite a trifle so long 
 as the face is hidden ! 
 
 Even among these earnest worshippers of the great goddess 
 Gunga (the Ganges) evildoers find their gain, and a row of native 
 police have to stand in the water all day watching for thieves, who 
 1 See In the Hebrides, C. F. Gordon Camming. Chatto & Windus. 
 
go 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 with a long wire hook contrive to jerk off the heavy gold and 
 silver bangles from the women’s ankles, thus reaping a rich harvest 
 and generally escaping in the crowd. These ankle-rings are fetters 
 of exceeding weight, often richly chased and made of metal so 
 pure as to bend in the hand. In form they are like a Celtic 
 brooch, the ends not meeting. Each toe is adorned with rings, 
 •each finger also ; sometimes the thumb is adorned with a small 
 circular looking-glass. Heavy bracelets or bangles are worn on 
 •the wrist and below the shoulder; sometimes the whole arm is 
 covered. Round the neck hang chains of gold and silver, and 
 strings of gay beads or coral. The ears are adorned with rings 
 innumerable, the whole rim being pierced with many holes. 
 Married women have an immense nose ring hanging from one 
 nostril. It is very light, but generally three or four inches in 
 diameter, sometimes nearly six ! Often a flat gem, such as a star 
 of turquoises, is let into the side of the nose like a patch. 
 
 You perceive that Hindoo women when got up for a festival are 
 very magnificent indeed. But even in their own homes they rarely 
 put off their ornaments, but pursue their household work glistening 
 with jewels. Of course the very poor substitute baser metals. 
 Widows are forbidden to wear any jewels, and are expected to do 
 all the drudgery of the house. In short, though the days of suttee 
 are past, their position is one of sorely unenviable humiliation. 
 
 The jewels of the bathers are not the sole temptation offered to 
 thieves. Some of the wealthy rajahs throw in handful after 
 handful of gold mohrs, just as an offering to the river—a sorry 
 sight to men whose highest wages rarely exceed sixpence a day ! 
 
 In bygone ages this lavish expenditure was carried to an 
 inconceivable excess in the form of utterly irrational almsgiving. 
 Mighty princes desirous of heaping up stores of merit, did so by 
 bestowing uncounted gold on religious mendicants. A very 
 curious account has been left by the Chinese traveller Hiouen 
 Thsang, who in the year a.d. 629 started from China on a toilsome 
 pilgrimage across Central Asia into India, to visit the cradle of 
 the Buddhist faith. 
 
 Throughout Hindoostan he found the Buddhist and Brahman 
 
ORIENTAL ALMSGIVING. 
 
 91 
 
 faiths about equally in favour with the people, and when he 
 reached the great plain of Allahabad he found that Siladitya, 
 the mightiest monarch of Northern India, had invited all “ the 
 kings of the empire” and a great multitude of people to encamp at 
 their self-same junction of the Ganges and the Jumna, where he 
 held high festival for seventy-five days, at the end of which he 
 made a general distribution of his property, which it seems he 
 was in the habit of doing once in five years. Causing his treasury 
 to be emptied, and the stores of his palace to be brought, he 
 distributed all his goods to all comers, whether Buddhist or 
 Brahmin, even stripping himself of his royal robes and jewels, all 
 of which were promiscuously disposed of (surely there must have 
 been faithful servants posted among the recipients to save some 
 jewels !!). Then following the example of Buddha in his “great 
 Renunciation” the king assumed the garb of a mendicant, and 
 went forth to play at being a beggar. 
 
 Under the present rule, one of the serious duties of the police 
 is to endeavour to prevent suicides — so sure an entry into 
 Paradise offering to the sick and sad-hearted a tempting con¬ 
 trast with the ills of their hard lot here. So the lame and the 
 halt, and many another “ weary of light and life,” try to slip 
 into the river unperceived, having earthenware jars fastened to 
 their bodies. These they fill with water, by means of a small cup, 
 and so sink down into the broad bosom of the calm goddess, 
 where no troubles can ever vex them more. And who in all that 
 busy throng will ever miss them from their place ? 
 
 Still fresh crowds pour in - by every approach, a motley assem¬ 
 blage of many tribes merging all special differences in their one 
 great purpose : all pressing along this grand high road to heaven, 
 rich men and poor men, riding or on foot, but all so strangely 
 picturesque—a kaleidoscope of ever-varying vivid colours. The 
 enduring brilliancy of the native dyes would sorely puzzle our 
 manufacturers: for the Indian style of washing, by thumping 
 clothes on stones in the river and drying them in the burning sun, 
 soon make English goods fade, whereas these native stuffs seem 
 to grow more and more brilliant so long as the rags will hold 
 
92 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 together. And the invariable good taste of the people rejoices 
 the eye. They seem to know by intuition what shades of vivid 
 green, and lilac, crimson and white, scarlet and purple, blue and 
 gold, will be both gorgeous and harmonious—and they them¬ 
 selves supply the rich browns which give tone to the whole. 
 And on such a gala day as this, even those whose raiment is 
 generally of the scantiest, contrive to be well dressed. 
 
 Happily the vagaries of changeful fashion are here unknown, and 
 for at least three thousand years the same graceful simplicity has 
 prevailed, the dress of men and women alike consisting of a 
 bodice and a sari, the latter being a long strip of cloth, probably 
 a dozen yards in length, ingeniously arranged in folds and plaits so 
 as to lie securely round the waist, one end being thrown over 
 the shoulder so as to form a hood if desired. The Mohammedan 
 women reveal very tight trousers which are particularly unbecoming 
 by reason of the exceeding leanness of the wearers. Though 
 tight they are apparently too long, for they invariably lie in 
 wrinkles like a very ill-fitting ungartered stocking. These gar¬ 
 ments, however, are not always a distinguishing mark of creed, 
 as a good many Hindoo women have adopted them. 
 
 All the children, too, are decked out like dolls. The boys, 
 whose ordinary dress consists of a string and small coin, or key, 
 worn round the waist; and the ljttle girls who, pour tout bien, 
 are adorned with a necklace and amulet, are to-day in holiday 
 garb. Nor do the men despise ornaments. Through the fine 
 muslin dress of the richer pilgrims you see gold bracelets, armlets, 
 and necklaces. Even the poorer classes wear bracelets and 
 amulets. 
 
 We devoted one day to going right into the heart of the holy 
 fair, to get a full benefit of all its strange impressions. We were 
 mounted on tall elephants, and so obtained a good general view 
 of the scene, and moreover had the advantage of being raised 
 a little above the clouds of dust and fine yellow sand which those 
 myriads of pointed slippers were so vigorously stirring up. 
 Nevertheless the incessant movement and the horrible con¬ 
 catenation of many noises soon became positively bewildering. 
 
THE HOLY FAIR. 
 
 93 
 
 The deafening clamour for backsheish, the incessant beating of 
 tomtoms and other discordant instruments, the cries of conjurors 
 and jugglers, and of itinerant merchants of all sorts, the angry 
 growling of many camels, the neighing of horses, lowing of bullocks^ 
 and occasionally the shrill trumpeting of an elephant mingling 
 with the amazing roar of multitudinous human voices, all com¬ 
 bining to produce one general hubbub, was overpowering, and 
 at last we left the sands with a sense of thankful relief. 
 
 The one sound that lingered the longest on our wearied ears 
 was the incessant howl for backsheish which rang on every side— 
 those alms which the priestly crowd claim so proudly and so 
 persistently as their right • while the throng of miserable, all but 
 naked beggars, intensify their appeal to our sympathies, and 
 explain their ravenous hunger in language not to be mistaken, by 
 patting their unhappy stomach—a member to which an unvarying 
 vegetable diet lends a most undue protuberance, more especially 
 in contrast with the emaciation of the limbs. Even the tiny 
 children are one and all distinguished by the same exaggeration 
 of the centre of gravity, and can only be described as “ pot 
 bellied” to a most alarming degree. 
 
 In the midst of that noisy throng we saw one Christian teacher 
 with a little knot of listeners, who, however, seemed merely to 
 pause for a moment and pass on, little heeding his message. 
 Close by was a rival Hindoo teacher, with his books. An 
 American missionary had accompanied us to the shore, but we 
 soon lost sight of him in the crowd—a man of countenance so 
 winsome, as might well recommend his teaching, and who has 
 laboured in this place for many years, gathering together a small 
 but increasing congregation of native Christians. Strange, is it not, 
 that this should be the state of things 1800 years after the Light 
 has come to lighten the whole earth ? Out of the vast multitude 
 of eager worshippers who thronged the sands on this day we had 
 good reason to believe that the Christians barely numbered half a 
 dozen, and they were Europeans, as of course no native Christian 
 would be present at such a scene. On the following Sunday the 
 Padre gave us a very appropriate sermon on Naaman’s bathing. 
 
94 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The establishment of this vast pilgrim camp outside -the city- 
 walls was due to a recent and most wise sanatory regulation. 
 Formerly the annual influx of pilgrims to any favourite holy place 
 was the sure and certain signal for the outbreak of some form of 
 horrible pestilence, bred of filth and overcrowded dwellings. 
 Every wretched den that could possibly be converted into a 
 lodging-house was crammed to suffocation, so that forty or fifty 
 human beings were stowed away in houses smaller than the 
 average labourers’ cottages in England, and this, in an Indian 
 midsummer heat. Thus year by year the advent of the pilgrims 
 was looked upon as the inevitable harbinger of death and 
 misery—a danger which is now vastly decreased by the very 
 simple expedient of stationing police upon every road leading to 
 the city, with orders to forbid all pilgrim bands to approach, 
 and to point out to them the direction of the great camp on the 
 dry sands, all trace of which will be, ere long, swept away by the 
 cleansing flood. 1 
 
 If only the same simple expedient could be adopted at all other 
 great centres of pilgrimage, much might be done to avert the 
 awful visitations of cholera—that fearful scourge which is said to 
 be generated exclusively in Hindoostan, thence over-spreading the 
 whole earth. It is positively stated by those most competent to 
 treat of such matters that in every instance where the fell disease 
 has slain its thousands in Europe, Asia, or America, its progress 
 has been distinctly traced backward to a starting point in India, 
 where it invariably appears first among the wretched half-starved 
 pilgrims. Their miserable condition is therefore a matter which 
 European selfishness cannot afford to look upon with indifference. 
 An able writer on this subject has pointed out how at any 
 moment “these overcrowded dens may become the centre from 
 which the disease radiates to the great manufacturing towns of 
 England and France. The squalid pilgrim army of Jugannath, 
 
 1 I am told that this year, A.D. 1884, has completed some period in Brah- 
 minical calculations, and that henceforth this great January holy fair will lose 
 its virtue, and so be discontinued. It is also said that the Ganges itself will 
 cease to be sacred in 1895, a prophecy which seems like foretelling that the sun 
 will stand still. 
 
CHOLERA CENTRES. 
 
 95 
 
 with its rags, and hair, and skin freighted with vermin and 
 impregnated with infection, may any year slay thousands of the 
 most talented and beautiful of our age, in Vienna, London, or 
 Washington.” 1 
 
 The writer refers especially to the great car festival of 
 Juganndth held at Puri, a sea-coast town a little to the south-west 
 of Calcutta—a festival which in numerical importance is only 
 exceeded by the monster fair at Hurdwar. The number of 
 pilgrims who flock to Puri varies, of course, from year to year, and 
 is estimated at from fifty to three hundred thousand. The chief 
 festival of the year occurs at midsummer, when the journey of 
 perhaps a thousand, or even fifteen hundred, miles, mostly per¬ 
 formed on foot, is rendered more oppressive by the intolerable 
 heat, in spite of which the weary pilgrim band, chiefly consisting 
 of fragile-looking women, must push on, never falling short of 
 their full day’s march lest they should reach the hallowed spot too 
 late, and fail to be present at the various ceremonies which are to 
 secure their salvation. We should notice, by the way, that this thirst 
 for pilgrimage and the persevering zeal which carries the way¬ 
 farers through all hardships of the journey are diligently fanned by 
 priestly emissaries, who go forth into every corner of the land 
 preaching the necessity of thus purchasing salvation, and of 
 carrying suitable offerings to the gods, or rather to the cruel 
 harpies who guard the shrines. 
 
 Ere the weary foot-sore creatures reach their desired haven, 
 scarce able to crawl along on bleeding feet, the season of the rains 
 arrives. Perhaps for a few days longer the sun may shine, and the 
 wayfarers, refreshed by a bathe in some sacred tank, don the 
 finery that was wrapped up in their dirty little bundles, and come 
 forth like radiant butterflies to flutter in and out of every temple 
 and drink of the elixir of holiness — a draught, however, which is 
 by no means “without money and without price,” for at every 
 turn they are taxed by the wolfish priests, and compelled to give 
 alms far beyond their ability. 
 
 1 Orissa, by Dr. W. W. Hunter. 
 
96 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 By the time they are shorn of every available coin, and have 
 scarcely retained the sum necessary to purchase their daily meal 
 •of rice on their homeward journey, the rains set in in good earnest. 
 Such of the multitude as have secured a right to lie down anywhere 
 under cover are deemed fortunate, even though they be packed 
 close as herrings in a barrel. Vast numbers have no option but 
 to spend days and nights without shelter of any sort, exposed to 
 the pitiless rain which pours down in sheets on the miserable mul¬ 
 titude, who have no option but to lie still, helpless and hopeless 
 —soaked to the skin, without the possibility of a change of raiment, 
 and moreover half-starved. Meanwhile the rain is busy stirring 
 up the foul accumulations of filth from every corner, and over¬ 
 flowing such substitutes for drainage as may exist, till the whole 
 town becomes altogether abominable and pestiferous, and the 
 lurking cholera and fever fiends start up on every hand, and 
 hold high revel on a stage so admirably prepared for them. Of 
 course multitudes perish, and their unburnt and unburied bodies 
 are left a prey to foul birds and dogs. 
 
 The miserable survivors struggle homeward, while the ceaseless 
 rain still pours down in floods, swelling every river to a raging 
 flood, and making the roads well-nigh impassable. Sometimes they 
 have to wait for days on the river bank ere any boat dares to ferry 
 them across the furious torrent. They hurry on, however, for the 
 demands of the rapacious priests have scarcely left them coin 
 wherewith to support their wretched lives till they can reach their 
 own villages. So, on the strength of one meal of rice they march 
 from thirty to forty miles a day, and of course multitudes drop 
 from sheer exhaustion, and are left to die where they fall, unless, 
 indeed, they have the good luck to be within the boundaries of 
 some British town, where Government servants are ready to carry 
 them to hospital, and tend them with all possible care—a work of 
 mercy which, however, the poor sufferers resist so long as they are 
 capable of even crawling onward. It is rumoured that many of the 
 younger women meet with a fate far more cruel than the death 
 which they accept so calmly—for bands of ruffians haunt the roads 
 
PILGRIMAGES. 
 
 97 
 
 whereby the pilgrims return, and watch their opportunity to kidnap 
 such women as from weariness or pain cannot keep pace with the 
 others and so get separated from their families; the helpless 
 creatures thus captured are carried off to recruit Mohammedan 
 zenanas. 
 
 Year by year this appalling sacrifice of human life continues (the 
 annual death-rate among the pilgrims attending this one festival 
 being computed at about twelve thousand, while in some years it is 
 as high as fifty thousand) and all this is endured in the service 
 of Vishnu the All-Preserver—most benevolent of the gods—to 
 whom bloodshed is abomination, and whose temple would be 
 defiled by the sacrifice of even a goat. Yet so deeply rooted in 
 the national faith is a belief in the efficacy of these toilsome, pil¬ 
 grimages, that any attempt on the part of Government to prohibit, 
 or even check them, would be considered the most cruel infringe¬ 
 ment of religious privileges, and would probably lead to a universal 
 mutiny! 
 
 It appears that in this matter, as in some others, the superstitions 
 of white men and brown run in a very regular parallel, else why 
 year after year do French and English papers teem with accounts 
 of Christian pilgrimages, no whit more sensible (though certainly 
 more comfortable) ; and attended not only by the poor and un¬ 
 lettered, but by educated men of high position, including even 
 English nobles ? Such are the famous pilgrimages to Paray-le- 
 Monial to commemorate the brain-sick vision of a foolish girl, and 
 the annual average of sixty thousand pilgrims crowding to the 
 shrine of Notre Dame de la Salette to buy water from the holy 
 well which sprang from the Virgin’s tears, or hurrying over the 
 mountains of Auvergne to adore her precious belt ! What are we 
 to say of forty thousand pilgrims headed by seven bishops and 
 other ecclesiastics of note, assembling to do homage to Notre 
 Dame de Lofirdes at the spot where, in 1858, a small peasant 
 child is supposed to have been favoured with a special revelation 
 concerning the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin ? 
 The Pyrenean rains do their utmost to damp the enthusiasm of 
 
 H 
 
9 3 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 these pilgrims, but certainly none have been called upon to 
 prove their sincerity by tests as painful or as long-continued as 
 invariably fall to the lot of their brown brethren. I doubt whether 
 many of these white pilgrims would lay down their lives in this 
 service with the unquestioning faith which inspires these earnest 
 brown men. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 CAWNPORE AND LUCKNOW. 
 
 The Well—The Story of Cawnpore—Across the Ganges to Oude—Wolf 
 Nurses—Sham Highlanders—Incongruous House Decorations—The 
 Story of Lucknow. 
 
 Dust ! dust! dust! Well, it really did seem as if Mother Earth 
 had returned to dust prematurely! Dust overhead, dust under 
 foot, on every side dust ! Whatever we may have passed that 
 was worthy of observation was all obscured by clouds of choking, 
 blinding dust. 
 
 Brown skins and white skins, oriental robes and sombre 
 European broadcloth — all were toned down by the all-pervading 
 dust. 
 
 “ Black spirits and white spirits—brown spirits and gray. 
 
 Mingle, mingle, mingle, on their dusty way.” 
 
 There were crowds of natives pouring in to celebrate some 
 great festival, and every shuffle of their pointed slippers stirred up 
 the sea of dust more and more, till all their gay dresses, their 
 glittering jewels, and brilliant colours, seemed as though flitting 
 and disappearing like figures in some hot, hazy dream. 
 
 The roads are all made of kunkur, small nodules of limestone, 
 which (true to her principle of saving unnecessary labour in 
 tropical regions) Dame Nature has provided all over these 
 alluvial plains as ready-made road metal lying very near the 
 surface, merely requiring the top soil to be removed and the 
 
 H 2 
 
IOO 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 kunkur to be excavated. First class material for road-making is 
 thus obtained, and the result is excellent, till, pounded by incessant 
 traffic of heavily-laden bullock-gharries, and exposed to the action 
 of much rain and much sun, the kunkur becomes reduced to fine 
 powder, which fills the air, rising in suffocating clouds on the 
 smallest provocation, forcing their way into every crevice, choking 
 and stifling the luckless traveller, whose ears, nostrils, eyes, and 
 mouth become so many dust-bins, and his clothing and every¬ 
 thing in his carriage is overlaid with a thick coating of fine grey 
 limestone. 
 
 Wherever the weary eyes turn it is the same thing. The 
 country is brown and bare, every blade of grass burnt up and 
 shrivelled, and the hot parched earth cracked in every direction; 
 long chasms gaping like thirsty jaws, but receiving no comfort 
 from the burning rays, which still pour down so ruthlessly. If 
 this is the state of Cawnpore in mid-winter, what will it be before 
 the blessed summer rains are due ? 
 
 A comfortably-furnished bungalow having, with true Indian 
 hospitality, been placed at our disposal, we ploughed our way 
 thither from the railway through seas of white dust, literally up 
 to the ankles. After early breakfast we sallied forth and again 
 ploughed our dusty way to the Memorial Gardens, the scene of 
 the awful massacre at the well, when the women and children and 
 “a great company of Christian people” were brutally murdered 
 by the arch-fiend, Nana Sahib, to prevent their rescue by their 
 countrymen. 
 
 Here, as everywhere else in the city, every trace that could 
 recall the horrors of 1857 has been utterly swept away, and 
 where those blood-stained houses and the native bazaar then 
 stood, a most beautiful garden has now sprung up. Only round 
 the dread well is the funeral character kept up, and cypress alone 
 planted. Just beyond are two other inclosures, where many 
 soldiers were buried that same year—men who had given their 
 lives willingly to avenge their countrywomen. These sepulchres 
 of sad memory are now, as I said, the centres of a garden of such 
 richness and beauty as to be exceeded by none in England—an 
 
A TRIUMPH OF IRRIGATION. 
 
 IOI 
 
 expression which speaks volumes, as Indian gardens are generally 
 laid out merely for shade, with scarcely a flower to be seen, the 
 constant marvel being where the nosegays come from ! 
 
 Into this sacred garden no dogs or natives are admitted, the 
 latter at least, not without a permit; and perhaps it would be well 
 if they might not go at all to see how trivial and flimsy a monu¬ 
 ment England has erected above her dead, in this land where the 
 very barbers and servants of great men are honoured with tombs 
 that will endure for centuries. 
 
 This pretty piece of ornamental work is built of stone so friable 
 that even its delicate real carving is already cruelly chipped, 
 while a considerable portion is merely fastened on with stucco, 
 which of course cannot resist the alternations of intense heat and 
 wet, and so is literally falling to pieces, the carved leaves scaling 
 off wholesale. Several of the large stars round Marochetti’s 
 statue were actually lying on the ground, and it is commonly said 
 that twenty years hence there will remain small trace of England’s 
 monument. 
 
 Moreover, it is unfortunate that the palms held by the angel 
 should be precisely like the broom carried by all the sweepers—a 
 very low caste, whose duty it is to sweep up all unclean things. 
 The native’s mind cannot rise above this idea, and (supposing the 
 avenging angel to represent the bearer of the brooms wherewith 
 that blood was swept up) continues to take a very material view 
 of Britain’s emblem. 
 
 But as to the garden, it is little short of a miracle to see such 
 a triumph of art over nature — to pass from the world of dust 
 outside to those smooth green lawns, with masses of such roses as 
 might excite the envy of a Devonshire rose-gardener. Nor roses 
 only, for all rare and beautiful flowers are here in the same 
 luxuriance — walls of golden bignonia, and of a lilac creeper more 
 exquisite still, the bougainvillia, whose long sprays of delicate 
 lilac leaves festoon each shrub that comes within reach. 
 
 The gardener under whose care this Paradise has developed 
 ought surely to look lovingly on all flowers ; yet his answer was 
 quaint when (after he had told me how many years he had lived 
 
102 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in the Himalayas) I said, “ Ah! then you can tell me in what 
 month the rhododendrons blossom,” he replied, “No, I cannot, 
 
 I was a vegetable gardener then ! ” 
 
 Of course the soil of this fair garden is altogether artificial, and 
 its luxuriance is due to an intricate system of irrigation, whereby 
 the lawns can be flooded for hours at a time with water which 
 flows in inexhaustible supply from the great Ganges Canal—a 
 canal which starts from Hurdwar, nearly four hundred miles up 
 country, and rejoins the Ganges at Cawnpore, bringing life and 
 gladness to all the thirsty land. 
 
 Just outside the gardens our admiration was arrested by a 
 number of lovely tall birds like cranes, with lavender body and 
 soft pink neck—“sarus”they are called. In the trees above, 
 innumerable monkeys were playing with their babies, and the 
 green parrots chattering as usual. 
 
 From the Memorial Gardens we turned to the Christian church, 
 erected on the site of the so-called intrenchments, that lament¬ 
 able position, which only could have been selected under some in¬ 
 fluence of temporary insanity, a position exposed on all sides to 
 the attacks, not only of an armed rabble, but of native regiments, 
 thoroughly drilled by English officers, with an unlimited supply of 
 large guns and ammunition, having moreover the advantage of 
 tall houses from which to fire on the intrenchments 
 
 Against such a force as this, the weak mud walls so hastily thrown 
 up could afford small protection to the handful of brave defenders, 
 who nevertheless, with their gallant old chief, Sir Hugh Wheeler, 
 and with only six guns, maintained their ground unflinchingly 
 for twenty days. Including women, children, and civilians they 
 numbered about 700 Europeans. 
 
 Some wretched single-story barracks alone sheltered these, not 
 only from the burning midsummer sun, but from the fire of the 
 foe, which, igniting the thatched roofs, burnt many houses and 
 their inmates. Moreover there was but one available well within 
 the intrenchments, and that was under fire. A second there was 
 indeed, but it proved a well without water, mocking the sufferers 
 in their hour of need. Into this were cast the bodies of all who 
 
NANA SAHIB. 
 
 103 
 
 died during those dreadful days—a hundred dead bodies, and in 
 that summer heat! Think what it means as an addition to the 
 stifling smoke of artillery ! 
 
 At last even the one remaining well was dried up ; and the only 
 choice left was to die of thirst, or to surrender to the perfidious 
 Rajah of Bithoor (the Nana, the courteous friend of the English, 
 personally known to nearly all, and continually sharing their social 
 pleasures). He was the adopted son of that Peishwa of Poonah, 
 who for notorious misconduct had been deposed by the British 
 from his high estate, but had been, nevertheless, magnificently 
 pensioned. At his death his vast personal property descended to 
 this adopted son; the Government however, while granting him 
 sundry honours, refused to continue the pension. 
 
 Here was the secret of the mischief. A thirst for vengeance 
 lay smouldering beneath the external courtesy which made his 
 acquaintance to be so much sought after. The entertainments at 
 his palace were so pleasant. He was so hospitable ! so kind and 
 civilised ! Moreover he was very wealthy. His popularity was 
 further enhanced by that of his secretary and prime minister, 
 Azimoola Khan, whose striking beauty had caused him to be made 
 much of in London, and who had also visited the Crimea during 
 the Russian war in order to study our military tactics. 
 
 The Nana having undertaken to bring fifteen hundred men to 
 our assistance, now swore by the sacred river Gunga that if the 
 English would trust to him he would have boats ready and would 
 warrant them a safe voyage to Allahabad. So the devoted little 
 garrison believed in these perfidious promises, and, having no 
 alternative, gave themselves to the care of this ruthless butcher. 
 They were conducted safely enough to the banks of the Ganges, 
 where at the Suttee Chowra Ghaut lay twenty house-boats—the 
 common boats of the country thatched with straw or reeds. 
 
 The men were made to embark first, and not till then dis¬ 
 covered that the boats were aground. Then the boatmen set the 
 thatched roofs on fire. Masked guns posted along the bank now 
 poured their volleys; and from within a temple where they lay 
 concealed the Nana’s sepoys, headed by Tantia Topee, rushed 
 
10-1 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 upon tlieir victims. Then followed that wild scene of horror— 
 flame, blood, drowning, massacre. Sir Hugh Wheeler was first 
 cut down as he stepped from 
 his palanquin. Only two 
 officers escaped, Mowbray 
 Thomson and Delaforce, 
 who, with a couple of privates 
 (all magnificent swimmers), 
 managed to get across the 
 river, and after incredible 
 dangers, finally survived to 
 tell the tale. 
 
 THE MASSACRE GHAUT, CAWNPORE. 
 
 The women and children were taken back to Cawnpore, where 
 they were locked up with others who had been captured while 
 flying from Futtyghur; in all, 206 European ladies and children 
 
CAWNPORE. 
 
 105 
 
 were prisoned for a fortnight in two small rooms in the burning, 
 suffocating heat of the Indian summer. Then just when the 
 hour of their deliverance seemed at hand, the murderer’s sword 
 was steeped in their life-blood. 
 
 When our soldiers reached that house of death, they had to 
 tread ankle-deep in the blood of our murdered women and 
 children. They found locks of long hair torn from fair heads ; 
 and hats of little children and leaves of Bibles ; and agonised last 
 messages to their countrymen scrawled on the blood-stained 
 walls, which were all scarred and scratched by sword-cuts. Just 
 outside was the gaping well into which dead and dying had been 
 thrown in one ghastly pile, all heaped up together—a sight from 
 which brave, dauntless men, whom neither danger nor death 
 could move, turned away in sickening anguish, to weep the 
 bitterest tears of manhood. 
 
 As each detachment of our troops reached Cawnpore, they 
 marched to the scene of horror, to steel their hearts for whatever 
 stern work of vengeance might be before them ; yet so marvellous 
 was Havelock’s influence with his men, that, although the city 
 was wholly in their power, no blind massacre followed, nor was 
 one British bayonet soiled with the blood of any of the inhabi¬ 
 tants. Havelock marched to Bithoor, six miles from Cawnpore, 
 but the Nana had fled, so the troops had to be satisfied with 
 burning that palace at which the English had so often been 
 welcomed to gay pleasure parties. 
 
 That ghaut beside the Ganges (known as the Massacre Ghaut, 
 or bathing-place) is the only spot near the city that has remained 
 untouched, and is therefore full of the deepest interest. Down 
 the dry water-worn ravine we seemed to trace every step of that 
 devoted band, the gleam of hope as they neared the river, and 
 beheld the boats floating like arks of deliverance; then the awful 
 scene of fire and blood, and dire confusion and terror ; and last of 
 all, the terrible retracing of that same path, the company of 
 terrified widowed mothers and orphans driven back like sheep to 
 the slaughter, struggling up that long hill in the burning heat of a 
 summer sun, to the/juarters assigned to them in the native bazaar. 
 
io6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 We saw the bungalow whence the Nana watched the scene; 
 we were standing on the bank where his chief men were hanged ; 
 though he, alas ! escaped. Day after day we returned to this 
 same spot, attracted by the intensity of its interest. We could 
 not help thinking what good cover for the foe those tall crops 
 must have been, reaching far overhead, so that the “ bud- 
 mashes ” 1 (of whom we heard so much during the Mutiny) could 
 lie there concealed by hundreds. 
 
 But now the scene was one of exceeding peace; and we were 
 thankful to escape from the dust and burning sun of Cawnpore to 
 wander up the banks of the broad calm Ganges, or rest a while 
 upon the broken sandy cliff. All was still and peaceful. Already 
 the shores of the river were one sea of waving greenery; and 
 overhead, tremulous leaves quivered with every breath that 
 floated down the stream. No sound broke the stillness save the 
 voices, not unmusical, of a group of native girls, whose rich 
 colouring, both of raiment and of person, was pleasant to behold ; 
 their dark eyes and hair, and warm copper-coloured skin, being 
 all in harmony with the brazen and copper vessels which they 
 were so diligently polishing. 
 
 Then, too, the heavy foliage reflected in the river’s depths made 
 these pale waters almost suggest the rich deep tones of some of 
 our own woodland pools, though the silvery banks of tall aloes 
 quickly dispelled that illusion. Sometimes we floated calmly 
 down the stream or landed on the sandy shore opposite, where, 
 so soon as the waters Subside after the annual inundations, great 
 melon-beds are made, and divers grain is planted, and only 
 protected by tall fences of withered sirkee grass. It is said that 
 otters love to bask on these sandbanks, watching for divers 
 species of well-fattened fish. You sometimes see the native 
 boats likewise fishing, and drawing their nets, which however is 
 objectionable work, as they are very liable to dredge up some 
 decomposed Hindoo ! 
 
 One morning we were overtaken by a tremendous thunderstorm. 
 The rain came down in earnest, forcing us to take refuge in the 
 
 1 Scoundrels. 
 
LIFE ON THE GANGES. 
 
 IO7 
 
 old temple where the sepoys had been concealed. As the storm 
 cleared off, the dark cloud that hung over the city was edged with 
 a brilliant rainbow, spanning earth and heaven—a very poetic 
 picture, which we were fain to hail as a type of a hopeful future, 
 in spite of such dark prognostications as sometimes meet our 
 ear from those who look furthest beneath the smooth current of 
 native life. 
 
 Certainly, as regards the mass of the people (the village 
 agriculturists), that ruling power which oppresses them least 
 must surely be the best loved, and they have small cause to 
 desire either the return of a Hindoo or a Mogul.rule. 
 
 Had these fully sympathised with the endeavour to drive us 
 out of India, our position would assuredly have been almost 
 untenable; but everything goes to show that the movement was 
 almost entirely military, and more or less local—generally due to 
 some malignant leader stirring up the soldiers from motives of 
 private revenge, as in the case of the Nana. Such devilish scenes 
 of murder and treachery as stained the name of Cawnpore were 
 happily exceptional. 
 
 It is said, too, that multitudes of the stories which chilled the 
 heart of England were utterly without foundation, as for instance 
 those which told of awful mutilation of the living, of which not 
 one single case has ever been proven. Government appointed 
 special persons to go on board every homeward-bound vessel, 
 in order to make provision for all such, but not one was ever 
 found. 
 
 While we were at Cawnpore great crowds of pilgrims were 
 assembling to bathe, by reason of an eclipse of the moon. Of 
 course as the Ganges is the great highway to heaven, all native 
 life and popular superstition cling to its shores, and every city 
 along its course is liable to such incursions. 
 
 One large portion of the community live entirely on the river, 
 having no other home but their boats. Some there are, whose 
 work entails frequently crossing the river, which they do by lying 
 on an inflated mussuk (the buffalo-skin used by water-carriers). 
 Sometimes they prefer large earthenware jars, which are simply 
 
io8 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 turned upside down so as to prevent the air from escaping ; and 
 lying across these a native will paddle himself across the widest 
 river. Sometimes the milk-carriers fasten together a number 
 of milk jars, or other marketable produce, and thus making a sort 
 ol raft, paddle it across, a man holding on and swimming at 
 either side ; thus they will sometimes bring their goods a long 
 way down the stream. A more luxurious method of crossing, 
 where boats are not forthcoming, is to fasten four mussuks to a 
 common charpoy (bedstead), whereon you may sit in state while 
 your men paddle you across. 
 
 A short distance below the Massacre Ghaut is a bank 
 formerly crowned by a considerable number of temples. These 
 however proved to be such convenient covers whence the foe 
 could fire on Havelock’s bridge of boats, that it was found 
 necessary to blow them up. The priests and yogis pleaded for 
 the mercy which the English Government had always shown to 
 all places of worship; to which Sir Robert Napier replied that if 
 one of them could prove that he had interceded for the life of a 
 single Christian, then his temple should be spared. Not one 
 voice replied, so the temples were blown up, and the hideous 
 gods thrown into 'the river. Now, however, the Government is 
 building a very handsome new ghaut at this spot, for the con¬ 
 venience and safety of bathers. 
 
 I do not know whether it is still Havelock’s identical bridge, 
 but by a bridge of boats we drove across the Ganges, large boats 
 lying side by side right across the stream, with a broad tramway 
 for carts and carriages, made of solid planks, overstrewn with 
 earth and reeds. Each boat is strongly moored with a heavy 
 anchor, and almost touches its neighbour. One or two of the 
 boats in the centre are movable, and can be slipped out, and 
 the planks lifted, to allow the river traffic to pass up and down. 
 There was a heavy block of bullock carts, with creaking wheels, 
 and drivers shrieking and groaning, also a great flock of goats, 
 and our progress was so much impeded that we had close running 
 to catch the train for Lucknow. 
 
 We were now in the kingdom of Oude, well called the garden 
 
WOLF-NURSES. 
 
 IO9 
 
 of India, and the change seemed almost miraculous, from the 
 dusty plains of the North-west Provinces, to a land rich and 
 fertile, such a land as might well “ laugh and sing ” because it 
 stands so thick with corn. All the shrubs and trees seemed so 
 fresh and green that the eye loved to rest upon them. None 
 more beautiful than the castor-oil plant, which here grew to 
 at least double the size we had seen on the other side of the 
 river. It is said that its leaves when made very hot act as 
 an excellent blister or plaister (I am not sure which 0. 
 
 Here and there, under the broad cool shade of some wide- 
 spreading banyan tree, we saw pleasant encampments with brown 
 and white tents: green pigeons, paroquets, and all manner of 
 birds chattering overhead, and dazzling blue jays flashing past. 
 The sunlight gleaming through the large glossy leaves played 
 upon the silvery-grey trunks and touched the busy camp life; 
 sometimes the travellers were just preparing for a start, loading 
 the camels and elephants and bullocks, and all astir. 
 
 As we whirled along, the talk turned on strange stories of 
 jungle life in Oude, in those days when the king was reigning 
 in magnificent state, and could collect more elephants to grace a 
 gala-day than we need ever hope to see again. 
 
 One of my companions could speak of those days from long 
 personal knowledge, and his life-like reminiscences lent keen 
 interest to our daily expeditions. But there were stranger 
 stories than these, which delighted me-—true stories of wolf- 
 nurses, proving the old tradition of Romulus and Remus to have 
 been more probable than we generally suppose. We heard of 
 two undoubted instances in which children, having been carried 
 off by wolves, had been adopted and suckled by the she-wolf. 
 One of these wolf-children was captured by hunters in the jungles 
 of Oude. They had seen this curious animal running with the 
 mother-wolf and several cubs, and tracked them to their den. 
 They succeeded in taking this creature alive, though the wolves 
 tried to rescue it, and followed the hunters for some distance. 
 The child snarled and growled and tried to bite. It could not 
 stand erect. It was exhibited in Lucknow, an English officer 
 
110 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 having charge of it, but it continued so savage that it had to be 
 kept in an iron cage. It was covered with short hair, and when 
 clothes were made for it, it tore them off with its teeth. 
 
 Many people came to see it, amongst others, a woman whose 
 child, aged eighteen months, had been carried off by wolves seven 
 years previously. By certain marks she recognised her lost little 
 one, and gazed in horror on this monster. It lived for a year, 
 eating voraciously, but only of raw flesh, and chewing bones 
 like a dog. It never learnt to speak, but would give a hoarse 
 growl when any one came near it. 
 
 The other instance, also a well-authenticated fact, was of a 
 wretched child, taken by hunters at Mozuffernugger, and brought 
 down to Meerut. It was a boy about five years old, running on 
 all fours. Its hands and feet were quite hard, it was very savage, 
 snarling and showing its teeth. It would only eat raw meat, and 
 that only when left alone. 
 
 As we neared Lucknow, and caught our first glimpse of the 
 “ Indian city’s crown of domes,” we could not help regretting the 
 magnificence of bygone days—the grandeur of the old kings of 
 Oude, their countless elephants with gorgeous trappings and 
 multitude of retainers. These are “ a tale of the past ”; and 
 doubtless it is well, for there can be no doubt that those grand 
 palaces were as an Augean stable that sorely needed cleansing. 
 
 My companion, who knew it so well in the days of the old 
 king, was positively bewildered by the changes that had passed 
 over it. Temples and palaces had been swept away, whole streets 
 had vanished as though the plough had gone over them, there 
 remained scarcely a trace of the spots where houses and gardens 
 had stood. Only here and there a gatepost remained as a sort 
 of landmark ; the old mess was marked only by a taller clump of 
 sirkee grass. 
 
 Enough however remains to make it a beautiful city—the 
 mixture of rank vegetation with eastern buildings ; the domes 
 and cupolas and gilded spires of many palaces and mosques (or 
 rather musjids), with their tall minarets rising above the mass of 
 rich wood and varied foliage; the courts and gardens, the 
 
THE GARB OF OLD GAUL. 
 
 11 I 
 
 terraced roofs, temples and fertile country beyond, and the 
 silvery river Goomtee glittering in the sun. One huge tower 
 we saw, which, for lack of more accurate knowledge, we called 
 the Tower of Babel. 
 
 When however, you come to a closer inspection, you find that 
 the houses and many-coloured bazaars are poor and mean, and 
 that these modern palaces are mere gingerbread. Their imposing 
 gateways are showy enough, but though each gateway bears the 
 two great fishes which mark a dwelling of the royal family of 
 Oude, their grand facade is only of painted plaster, with stucco 
 sham carving, a style of architecture which is emphatically 
 described as “ cutcha, ” a word most expressive to Indian ears 
 and used to describe every species of rubbishy, unsound thing—in 
 short, everything not permanent. The opposite word “pukka” 
 is in equally common use, to express everything that is good and 
 solid and enduring. Thus to speak of a pukka appointment, 
 building, or road, expresses volumes. 
 
 This mean trashy style of modern building is doubly offensive 
 by contrast with the magnificence of the past in this land of 
 marble palaces, where decorations of such perfection are lavished 
 everywhere in wasteful profusion, such noble archways and such 
 massive pillars with richly carved capitals. But the modern 
 Hindoos have no sense of congruities, and will place the utmost 
 rubbish side by side with the most exquisitely refined work. In 
 the courts and gardens of their finest palaces they will show you 
 with great pride some hideous coloured statue of a sepoy, a 
 grenadier, or a Highlander in full dress, alongside of casts 
 from really good statues. 
 
 The Highlanders by the way are objects of intense admiration 
 to the natives, who, in truest flattery, occasionally indulge in 
 humble imitation. Thus the Gackwar of Baroda has a real 
 Highland corps, correctly dressed in kilts and coats, brogues, 
 and stockings, wearing feather bonnets and playing on native 
 bagpipes. The garb of Old Gaul is very becoming to the 
 brown faces, and brown knees would also look quite in keeping, 
 but the Gackwar (little dreaming of the walnut juice with which 
 
I 1 2 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 fair-skinned men occasionally enrich the colouring of their too 
 pale knees) here resolves on literal imitation, so pink cotton 
 breeches are added, which cover the knee, and come down to 
 meet the stocking on the calf! 
 
 The same incongruities are remarkable in the internal arrange 
 ments of a native house, of which the family rooms are furnished 
 only with carpets and cushions, but the show room in which they 
 receive Europeans is generally crammed with heterogeneous 
 foreign articles—perhaps a dozen English clocks of divers pattern, 
 all going; priceless vases and the most trumpery English toys; 
 the cheapest framed prints of French damsels, and of sacred 
 subjects (not cheap to their purchaser, you may be very sure ! ). 
 Perhaps as a treasure beyond price, an old barrel organ, and 
 some of the commonest statuettes side by side with exquisite 
 jewelled cups. 
 
 I am not sure however that a Hindoo gentleman might not 
 be equally astonished to find our rooms decorated with the 
 brooches and anklets of the poorest Indian women, betel plates, 
 brass ink-horns, and beautiful metal plates and bowls—nay, even 
 funny little gods and goddesses surrounded by brazen lamps and 
 bells, and sacrificial vessels intended for use in their temples; 
 rosaries also and prayer-wheels, and hubble-bubble vases—no 
 longer used for smoking, but filled with roses !—nay, even bathing- 
 slippers of inlaid wood, and ridiculous Indian playthings. 
 
 We were taken to see the house of a wealthy merchant, the 
 whole front of which is one mass of rich stone carving of most 
 intricate design, utterly lacking in repose. The internal arrange¬ 
 ments of such a house are interesting. The houses of the upper 
 and middle classes are generally built of brick, and are two or 
 three stories high. The entrance from the street leads into a court, 
 round which on each story run galleries. On the ground floor 
 are the well, the cow and goat stables, and the grain store; also 
 the kitchen, which is well furnished with brightly -polished brazen 
 vessels. One room is reserved as the family chapel, for domestic 
 worship. The kitchen, being scrupulously clean, is often the 
 family dining-room. Its perfect purity is a ceremonial necessity, 
 
HAVELOCK’S GRAVE. 
 
 H3 
 
 for though every action of life is performed by religious rule, eating 
 is more especially so. 
 
 On the upper stories the airy front rooms are devoted to the 
 men of the family, while the dull little rooms at the back, or 
 looking into the courtyard, are the women’s quarters, where they 
 live their dreary lives, unenlivened by any interest in the outer 
 world—no books or music, nothing but the care of their nurseries, 
 their kitchen, and the idols. 
 
 We found very good quarters at an Anglo-Indian hotel, where 
 however we realised to the full the aggravation of the mode of 
 house-building which secures ventilation by making all rooms open 
 into one another—an arrangement doubly distasteful in such build¬ 
 ings as these, where even the up-stairs bedrooms have windows 
 looking down into the great public room. These are furnished 
 only with Venetian blinds, so that at night it is simply impossible 
 for would-be sleepers to shut out either the conversation of the 
 smokers in the central room, or the suffocating clouds which of 
 course float upwards. 
 
 It cost us several days of pretty severe sight-seeing to go over 
 most of the points of interest, all more or less connected with 
 tales of the Mutiny. We drove to the dreary Alum Bagh, which 
 Sir Henry Havelock held against such fearful odds, and where 
 his honoured dust now lies. It is merely an inclosed field, with a 
 very plain obelisk and long inscription. 
 
 We returned to the city by the Dilkoosha or Heart’s Desire, the 
 hunting-seat of the old kings of Oude, now used as officers’ 
 quarters. Here it was that Havelock died. 
 
 The grandest of the gingerbread palaces is that known as the 
 Kaiser Bagh, which was the king’s special abode. Its fame during 
 his lifetime is evil beyond telling, and the court life here was one 
 long scene of unutterable degradation, gilded however with all the 
 magnificence that oriental splendour could devise. The old king 
 is described as a mere crazy imbecile, steeped in vice more vile 
 than a European mind could well realise. 
 
 The plunder of this palace at the time of the Mutiny sounded 
 like some dream of the Arabian Nights. The marble floors were 
 
 i 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 114 
 
 strewn to the depth of several inches with fragments of mirrors 
 and crystal chandeliers, which had been smashed to obtain the 
 jewelled setting : precious vases of china, alabaster, and priceless 
 jade; jewelled caskets, gold and silver brocades, shawls—all manner 
 of rich and costly treasures, for the most part lying in fragments, 
 having been ruthlessly destroyed by our own troops in the heat of 
 plunder. These courts and halls are now Government offices, and 
 the garden with its shady walks and kiosks, 1 fountains and orange 
 trees, is now open to all comers. 
 
 Crystal chandeliers are evidently among the most esteemed of 
 foreign manufactures. We went to see a great Emambara or tomb 
 specially dear to the Mohammedans, namely, that of Hossein 
 Ali, a very holy saint, whose silver shrine is surrounded by a 
 multitude of these, of every size and shape, hanging close 
 together all over the building. Once a year they are illuminated 
 with many thousand candles, and the blaze of light thus produced 
 is almost unbearable. The Koran is then read from a fine 
 pulpit of solid silver. In the court outside were sundry 
 worshippers, some performing their ceremonial ablutions, others 
 standing and prostrating themselves by turns with all possible 
 formality. 
 
 Another of our expeditions was to visit a vast Mohammedan 
 tomb, now used as an arsenal, where, among other objects of 
 interest, are the guns of the Shannon, with which Sir William 
 Peel’s naval squadron did such good service at the Relief of 
 Lucknow. Some of the party had been eye-witnesses of their 
 valour, and spoke of their deeds as almost incredible. The 
 dragging of those heavy ship guns under the burning summer 
 sun, and the subsequent working of them, are among the deeds 
 of our jolly tars that will not quickly be forgotten by the Hindoos. 
 Peel was buried at Cawnpore, where we paid our homage to his 
 brave memory. From the top of that great tomb we had a 
 magnificent view of the city and of the country round for many 
 miles. 
 
 We spent a pleasant afternoon at the Wingfield Gardens, which 
 1 Summer-houses. 
 
THE RESIDENCY. IIS 
 
 for their rare beauty vie with those at Cawnpore, being literally 
 one blaze of roses. 
 
 The morning had been devoted to sketching at the Secundra 
 Bagh, “ the Garden of Alexander,” a native garden inclosed by 
 high walls, with but one entrance by a very picturesque gateway. 
 This spot was the scene of a desperate fight, a great body of 
 rebels having here taken refuge, and being thus shut into a trap 
 from which there was no escape. Here they were attacked by 
 the 93rd and 53rd under Sir Colin Campbell, and a desperate 
 hand-to-hand conflict ensued, so that the garden was heaped with 
 the slain, and upwards of two thousand of the foe were either 
 captured or killed. 
 
 But to us, all the interest of the city centred in the Residency, 
 whose battered ruins still bear the mark of the shot and shell 
 which poured in such fierce tempests on those walls. Now the 
 unsightly ruins are half veiled by heavy masses of the beautiful 
 but treacherous elephant creeper, a plant like a giant convolvulus, 
 which, spreading rapidly, too often overthrows the walls on which 
 it climbs. The orange venusta, too, hangs like a golden curtain 
 from the pillars that once formed the verandah, and in every 
 corner grasses and creepers have niched themselves in the crevices 
 of the warm brickwork. 
 
 The spots to which the deepest interest attaches are preserved 
 with all possible care, but the intervening space has been levelled, 
 and is now a rich and beautiful garden. 
 
 The entrance is beneath an arched gateway, literally battered 
 by great cannon-balls (this is the Bailie Guard), by which the 
 relief column forced its triumphant way — whence too, at last, the 
 ransomed garrison sallied forth at dead of night, when the hour 
 of their deliverance had come. Close by is Dr. Fayrer’s house, 
 where the brave and good Sir Henry Lawrence died, and where, 
 later, the women and children assembled to welcome and bless 
 their deliverers, and grasp the hands of the brave Highlanders 
 who first fought their way within those beleaguered walls. 
 
 On the other side is the banqueting hall — the old mess room— 
 whose mirth was silenced then, and the place given up to the sick 
 
IN TIIE HIMALAYAS, 
 
 116 
 
 and wounded. About the centre of the ground stands the house 
 set apart for the ladies ; a little farther, that where the women of 
 
 THE RESIDENCY, LUCKNOW. 
 
 the 32nd were lodged. Then comes the tower where England’s 
 flag floated throughout those five awful months, from June till 
 
THE SIEGE. I 17 
 
 November, during which the little garrison held a post apparently 
 so weak against such overwhelming odds. 
 
 Close to the tower is the room where Sir Henry was writing 
 when the shell struck him. A little further lies the cemetery 
 where sleeps his dust, mingling with that of many brave men and 
 women, and many little children besides, who died of want and 
 starvation during that terrible siege. The little church was 
 altogether destroyed ; no trace of it remains. 
 
 The covered well (whence alone drinking-water could be pro¬ 
 cured, and to which all went by turns, well knowing the fiery hail 
 that would pour on them ere they could draw the priceless 
 draughts) is now covered with a tangle of flowering creepers, which 
 however do not hide the fatal bullet-marks. To this spot day by 
 day we bent our steps, never weary of tracing out that ground, 
 and trying to picture that heroic defence. It seemed impossible 
 that so small a space should have been so well defended, when 
 the native bazaar came up to the very walls, and every point of 
 vantage was in the hands of the foe. 
 
 But Sir Henry’s keen foresight had long been preparing the 
 Residency for the chance of such a siege. He had laid in stores 
 of food and ammunition—the latter in such abundance that it 
 never ran short. For the last few weeks, as he scented the coming 
 storm, he employed hundreds of men night and day in throwing 
 up earthworks and such fortifications as could be most rapidly 
 constructed. Then, at the first alarm, he gathered all the 
 Europeans within his Walls. These included about 1,600 
 fighting men, and 450 women and children. Of the 
 fighting men nearly half were native troops, sepoys, who 
 with marvellous fidelity stood firmly by the British throughout 
 these long months of awful trial, resisting the most stirring 
 appeals of the besiegers (their co-religionists and blood- 
 relations), who were actually so close that they could call to their 
 friends by name, imploring them to come out, and not remain to 
 aid the infidel foreigners. 
 
 The majority of the native servants and workmen, however, at 
 once decamped, taking with them all the tools on which they could 
 
11 8 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 lay hands—a very serious loss to the besieged. Those who know 
 how helplessly Europeans rely on their servants, and how intoler¬ 
 able all exertion becomes during the hot weather, can imagine the 
 position of ladies accustomed to all Indian luxury and comfort, 
 suddenly left to their own resources, obliged to sweep their own 
 rooms, wash clothes, and cook for themselves and their families, 
 and for those working and fighting, besides nursing the sick in the 
 crowded hospital garrison. 
 
 Sometimes several families were huddled into one room; those 
 families who could secure an out-house or stable for their exclu¬ 
 sive use were fortunate indeed; and this, in the burning heat of 
 an Indian summer. Add to this, the noise of incessant firing of 
 heavy guns close to them, and the consequent dense stifling 
 smoke. The rains too were deluging the land. The officers, 
 drenched to the skin, worked alternately with spade and 
 musket. 
 
 Then cholera broke out, and small-pox and fever; food be¬ 
 came scant, and the horrors of the siege thickened. On every 
 side the besieged were surrounded by high houses, which sheltered 
 thousands of experienced marksmen, well-trained by the English, 
 and provided with abundant ammunition—a host computed at 
 50,000; while disease and wounds had reduced the garrison 
 to. 500, including sick and wounded ! 
 
 Very early in the day their loved chief, the noble Lawrence, 
 had gone to his rest. The shell that burst into his room had 
 shattered his thigh. He was carried to Dr. Fayrer’s house, as 
 being more sheltered from the artillery of the foe. His leg was 
 amputated, but the wound was fatal. He lingered two days, 
 cheering the officers of his garrison with brave and Christian words, 
 well in keeping with the tenor of his life. The storm and tumult 
 and furious raging of the heathen all round that little sanctuary 
 could not disturb the perfect calm and peace of that death-bed. 
 Many of his officers knelt around him in the open verandah, 
 exposed to a heavy fire of musketry, and together for the last time 
 received the Holy Communion. 
 
 Then he bade each a loving farewell, and desired to be buried 
 
DEATH OF SIR HENRY LAWRENCE. 119 
 
 “without any fuss,” in the same grave with any of his men who 
 might die the same day. And so on the 4th of July at evening 
 died a brave soldier, and a good and faithful servant of the Great 
 Master. After sun-down his loved remains were buried beside 
 the little garrison church. 
 
 So sharp was the raging of the foe that evening, that at this last 
 hour his officers dared not be present, but rather did his bidding, 
 by standing each at his post. But the soldiers who carried him 
 to his burial raised the sheet which covered the face of their 
 beloved chief, and each stooped down and reverently kissed 
 him on the forehead before they laid him in the earth. 
 
 He was succeeded in the command by General Inglis, but his 
 death was kept secret from most of the garrison for several days, in 
 dread of the terrible depression it would cause. His grave is now 
 marked by a plain broad stone, bearing the grand simple words 
 whispered by himself with his last breath : 
 
 HERE LIES 
 
 HENRY LAWRENCE, 
 
 WHO TRIED TO DO HIS DUTY. 
 
 MAY THE LORD HAVE MERCY 
 UPON HIS SOUL. 
 
 * 
 
 Born 28 tk June, 1806. Died 4 th July, 1857. 
 
 —an inscription in striking contrast with sundry other epitaphs, 
 written, not by great men themselves, but by loving survivors, 
 who leave little to the imagination in the fulness of their 
 praise. 
 
 One of the chief boons for which posterity will bless his name 
 is the Lawrence Asylum, a great home among the healthy life- 
 
120 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 giving hills, to which the pale-faced, delicate children of European 
 soldiers, and their orphans, may be sent from the burning 
 plains (and from whatever evil attends the upbringing of little 
 ones in barrack-life), to receive a careful education and wise 
 training. 
 
 Tidings of the siege of Lucknow and the death of Lawrence 
 reached Havelock on his return to Cawnpore after burning 
 the palace of the Nana. With his little band of 1,500 
 men he at once started to their relief. First he made the 
 bridge of boats, in spite of all difficulties, and brought his men 
 across the Ganges. But the foes were legion, and the heat terrific 
 —the country deluged by the rains, the supply of tents scant. 
 Cholera broke out, and fighting was incessant. Eight successive 
 victories reduced his force to 860, a number utterly inadequate 
 to fight their way onward to the relief of Lucknow. 
 
 Moreover, tidings reached him that Cawnpore was again 
 threatened on every side. He therefore returned thither and 
 rejoined General Neill and his little garrison ; and fought and 
 won another battle against fearful odds, the mass of the foe being 
 our own trained sepoys. 
 
 On the 16th September, General Outram arrived with reinforce¬ 
 ments, and, though of superior rank, generously waived his 
 privilege and left the command of that glorious column of 
 relief in the hands that had done so nobly— les braves des 
 braves ! 
 
 Then came the toil of re-crossing the Ganges and the terrible 
 march in the rains which fell in torrents. As he drew near Luck¬ 
 now he found the foe drawn up in strong position at the Alum 
 Bagh. His column was compelled to advance by a narrow 
 road, with soft swampy marsh on either side, and all under 
 fire. It was a splendid struggle, in which he was again 
 victorious. 
 
 Another hot fight awaited him ere he could cross the canal 
 bridge. Then followed a fearful march through streets apparently 
 deserted, under a galling fire from the matchlocks of unseen foes ; 
 then a still more deadly fight at the Kaiser Bagh, the king’s palace, 
 
THE RESCUE. 
 
 I 21 
 
 whence a murderous fire poured on the troops an iron deluge of 
 grape, cannister, and round shell. 
 
 At length this was silenced, and there followed a momentary 
 respite. Faint and worn out by these terrible hours of deadly 
 incessant fighting under a scorching sun, it was a question whether 
 it would be possible to advance further that night. It was felt, 
 however, to be positively necessary, so Havelock with the 
 78th Highlanders and Sikhs led the advance of that march through 
 fire and death. Deep trenches had been cut along the road, and 
 every species of obstruction placed in the way. From every window, 
 loophole, and house-top, that “ iron hurricane of destruction and 
 death ” rained upon them. There seemed no limit to the heavy 
 artillery of the foe. 
 
 Still Havelock and his men marched steadfastly on, leaving the 
 streets strewn with their dead and dying, including brave General 
 Neill. In the darkness of night it seemed as if every wall literally 
 streamed fire on the devoted band, till at length, with a British 
 cheer, they reached the Bailie Guard; and the beleaguered garrison 
 (nearly mad with joy from relief after the agonised tension of 
 almost hopeless expectation) crowded round to bless their de¬ 
 liverers, to whom the triumph of that night seemed compensation 
 enough for nearly a hundred days of such a struggle, and 
 against such awful odds, as find few parallels in history. 
 
 Meanwhile the wounded and those in charge of them were 
 having an appalling night—hunger and raging thirst, the inces¬ 
 sant fire of a maddened foe, and, — more awful still, the agony of 
 beholding the horrible tortures inflicted by the demons on such 
 wounded as they could capture, many of whom were burnt alive 
 as they lay helpless in their doolies. Not till daylight dawned 
 were their comrades able to come up, bringing the heavy artillery, 
 and, having rescued them, all advanced together to the shelter of 
 the Residency. 
 
 At length Sir Colin Campbell drew near. He had reached 
 Cawnpore just in time to save it a second time from the foe, and 
 had now to face that terrible slaughter at the Secundra garden — a 
 fight that was compared to the raging of a fiery furnace. 
 
122 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Then, at the Chutter Munzil Palace (which is now the Club), 
 Havelock, Outrain and Sir Colin met, while the din of battle 
 raged around. They laid their plans for the exodus of the 
 garrison—laid them wisely and well. In the dead of night—a 
 dark November night—silently and rapidly the beleaguered garrison 
 sallied forth from the Residency, and, passing through lines of 
 pickets carefully posted to guard their pathway, men, women, 
 children, wounded—every living soul, marched out; while the 
 unconscious foe continued to pour their hail of fire, on the 
 deserted building. 
 
 The fugitives carried with them what treasures they possessed, 
 as well as the King of Oude’s jewels ; they reached the Alum 
 Bagh in safety, whence they were sent to Cawnpore and 
 Allahabad. 
 
 Worn out with fatigue of mind and body, the brave Havelock 
 had finished his work. Attacked by dysentery—-the scourge of 
 India—he was removed to the Dilkoosha, where he died, and was 
 buried close by, in the Alum Bagh. 
 
 This is the story which is whispered by every stone in Lucknow.’ 
 Can you wonder that, early and late, we, who vividly remembered 
 each detail of the story when first it reached us in England, 
 found our way back to the Residency and the Bailie Guard ? 
 

 
 
 
THE TAJ MAHAL, AGRA. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AGRA. 
 
 “ A palace lifting to eternal summer 
 Its marble halls from out a glossy bower 
 Of coolest foliage, musical with birds.” 
 
 History—An Ideal Tomb of pure White Marble—Oriental Kith-and-Kin 
 Love—A Neglected Burial-ground—Beside the River—A Plea for Crema¬ 
 tion—Indian Laundries—Akbar’s Harem—His Fort at Agra—Sandal¬ 
 wood Gates of Somnath—Horse-shoes—Destruction of the Temple of 
 Somnath—Zenana Pavilions—Pearl Mosque—Ruined City of Futteypore 
 Sicri. 
 
 We were speaking some time ago of the relative joys of sight 
 and hearing, and observing the curious fact that nine people out 
 of ten say they would rather be deaf than blind I think one 
 half hour in Agra would convince them that no wealth of words 
 falling on the most willing ear could ever convey the exceeding 
 delight with which the eye, at one rapid glance, fills the whole 
 mind in presence of any beautiful object whatsoever. And of 
 all the lovely things in creation, whether of nature or of art, 
 none has ever conveyed, to my mind at least, the exquisite 
 delight of that fairylike, snowy, palace-among-tombs, the Tai 
 Mahal; but as to conveying the faintest impression of it in 
 words, or with black-and-white engravings, why the attempt is 
 mere folly. 
 
 In olden days, the Eastern poet Sadi complained that his 
 friends could not sympathise with his wearisome praises of his 
 
124 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 love; he said that could they but once behold her beauty they 
 might understand his song, which must seem but as an idle tale 
 to those whose minds had not been steeped in the same sweet 
 influences. 
 
 So it is with the loveliness of this fairy architecture. A 
 cluster of pearly, snow-white domes nestling round one grand 
 central dome, like a gigantic pearl; these crowning a building all 
 of purest, highly-polished marble, so perfect in its proportions, 
 so lovely in its design, so simply restful to the eye, and withal 
 so amazingly intricate in its simplicity, that it is in truth more 
 like some strange dream in marble, than like a work of 
 human hands. Its four sides being precisely similar, it follows 
 that from whatever side you behold it, its perfect form never 
 varies. Far from the city or from any other building, it 
 stands alone in its transcendent loveliness, having its own rich 
 Eastern garden on one side, while the warm red sandstone wall 
 above which it is raised is washed by the blue waters of the 
 sacred Jumna. 
 
 This noble deep red wall, which is sixty feet in height, 
 surrounds the whole garden, a space of about forty acres, and 
 the greater part of it, even those unseen parts down by the 
 river, is all beautifully carved with great groups of flowers, as 
 much like nature as any pious Mohammedan dares represent; 
 part, too, is inlaid with white marble. The carved niches of 
 that red stone seem to be all inlaid with some rare pattern of 
 emeralds, which as you approach, prove to be living gems— 
 myriads of green parrots, which dart forth with glittering sunshine 
 on their wings. 
 
 Just above the river, as I said, stands a great quadrangle of 
 pure white marble. It is 900 feet square and forty feet high—a 
 meet foundation whereon to rest so fair a structure. On either 
 side stands a small mosque of red sandstone, inlaid with black 
 and white marble, and crowned with three white marble domes. 
 A second marble terrace rises from the first, and from its four 
 corners spring four tall and graceful minarets about 150 feet in 
 height, also of pure marble, and capped with domes. They 
 
A DREAM IN MARBLE. 
 
 125 
 
 seem to gleam like pillars of steadfast light against the clear 
 celestial blue. The great central dome rises to a height of 200 
 feet. 
 
 To stand in the fragrant rose garden beneath one of the great 
 dark trees, over which the exquisite bougainvillea has crept, 
 thence hanging in gorgeous masses of lilac leaves, like rich 
 rhododendron blossoms, twining and intertwining all through the 
 
 THE TAJ, AGRA. 
 
 branches and falling again in heavy festoons—to see that fairest 
 picture glimmering and glistening within so graceful a frame is a 
 new sensation, which of itself is worth all the long miles of 
 travel. It seems such a visible embodiment of that intensely 
 loyal devotion to the dead, which all the dreamy metaphors of 
 Oriental poets and all their flowery phraseology so vainly seek to 
 express. There is a feeling of repose in its calm beauty, as 
 
126 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 though the builder had striven to symbolise that great peace 
 into which his loved one had entered. 
 
 For this pearl among tombs was built by the Mohammedan 
 Emperor Shah Jehan in memory of the love of his youth, his 
 idolised Momtaz, known also as Arzumund Banoo, and as Taj 
 Mahal, “ the crown of the seraglio.” She was the joy of his 
 life, and had been his wife for fourteen years, and had borne him 
 seven children. She died in 1629, in giving birth to a daughter. 
 Then the great Emperor mourned with an exceeding bitter 
 mourning; for the wife of his youth was dead, and, like another 
 twin spirit so bereft— 
 
 “ Of slaves he had many, of wives but one. 
 
 There is but one God for the soul, he said, 
 
 And but one moon for the sun.” 
 
 So the Sun was inconsolable ; but at length he bethought him 
 to honour her memory by such a tomb as should fill the world 
 with wonder. So he called together the skilful workers of all 
 nations, and Italian architects lent their utmost refinement to 
 work out the dreams of Oriental imagination. 
 
 Consequently the most exquisitely refined work is here 
 lavished with unsparing profusion, the walls both within and 
 without being enriched with inscriptions in Arabic, engraved and 
 inlaid in marble, and with the loveliest decorative designs of 
 floral arabesques. To Agra, as to the Temple of Solomon, were 
 brought together all manner of precious stones, “ onyx stones and 
 stones to be set; glistering stones and of divers colours, and all 
 manner of precious stones, and marble stones in abundance.” 
 The “marble stones” were brought all the way from Jeypore or 
 Ajmere, but the red sandstone was found in the neighbouring 
 Mewat hills. It is said that twenty thousand men were employed 
 for upwards of seventeen years on the building, which cost 
 somewhere about three millions, English money, to say nothing 
 of materials supplied gratis by conquered foes and of compulsory 
 work rewarded only by the daily supply of rice. 
 
 According to the original design, the Emperor was to have 
 
KITH-AND-KIN LOVE.” 
 
 127 
 
 had a similar tomb on the opposite bank of the river, and the 
 two were to have been united by a bridge of fair white marble 
 spanning the blue waters. Long ere this could be accomplished, 
 however, he fell sick and was nigh unto death. Then his four 
 dutiful sons commenced a violent contest as to the succession. 
 Aurungzebe carried the day, and found means to dispose of his 
 brothers and his own son, whom he imprisoned in the strong 
 fort of Gwalior, a stronghold in which, as in the Bastile or the 
 Tower of London, state prisoners whom it might not be desirable 
 to kill at once, might find a dreary oubliette. There were few of 
 the Mogul Emperors who did not assign to some of their relations 
 apartments in this cheerful abode. Verily, kith-and-kin love 
 must, in Eastern meaning, be unlovable indeed! As to his 
 father, Aurungzebe was content with imprisoning him for the 
 rest of his life (seven years), in the old fort at Agra (a majestic 
 stronghold built of red sandstone), whence he might continually 
 behold the beautiful tomb of his wife, and grieve over his un¬ 
 finished work. From this durance vile, his people were never 
 able to rescue him, though he was well loved in his empire. 
 Perhaps in his sad hours of captivity he may have recognised a 
 righteous retribution for the murder of his brother, whereby he 
 himself had ascended the throne. 
 
 That, however, was quite in the natural way of Oriental suc¬ 
 cession, and his father, Jehanghir, the magnificent son of Akbar, 
 “ had deliberately impaled eight hundred of the race of Timour ” 
 who stood between him and the throne. The pleasant process 
 of impaling was lightly to poise a man above a sharp stake, in 
 such fashion that as he wriggled in the contortions of agony he 
 should by slow degrees impale himself. By an exquisite refine¬ 
 ment of brutality the unutterable torture of this lingering death 
 was rendered still more protracted by withholding water from the 
 writhing victim, that the cruel stake might work more slowly as 
 it pierced the poor body, alike dried up by the burning fever of 
 ) internal pain and the scorching rays of the sun that beat upon 
 , it. So no pitying passer-by, if such there were among the 
 crowd of idle spectators, might dare to give the unhappy sufferer 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
128 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 one cooling drop to allay the anguish of his burning thirst, lest 
 by so doing he should expedite his death, and put an end to the 
 horrors which, by judicious treatment, might be prolonged until 
 the third day. 
 
 The amiable fiend who indulged so largely in this pleasant pas¬ 
 time was the husband of that Noor-Mahal, “ the light of the 
 harem,” the fame of whose beauty gained her the name of Noor- 
 Jehan, “the light of the world.” She it was who took such 
 delight in her gold fish that she spent hours daily in feeding them, 
 and clothed them in fillets of gold. 
 
 The unfilial conduct of Aurungzebe having prevented Shah 
 Jehan from completing his grand monumental dream, his body 
 was laid beside that of his love in a chamber below the Taj, where, 
 as in all these great tombs, the real sepulchre and the more orna¬ 
 mental sarcophagus stationed above ground, are totally distinct. 
 Above the tomb lights are kept constantly burning, and fresh 
 garlands of roses and marigolds are ever and anon laid thereon, 
 and given to those who visit the Taj. Formerly attendants were 
 for ever chanting verses from the Koran, and the sacred words 
 were re-echoed by the great dome. 
 
 Entering the building from beneath an arch which seems to 
 reach to heaven, you pass in by a low portal, and find that the 
 whole interior is lined with a mosaic work more exquisite than 
 even the most refined modern Florentine work, though the 
 Mohammedan prohibition to copy natural forms, or the likeness of 
 anything in heaven or upon earth, has somewhat cramped the 
 artistic hand, and compelled the substitution of conventional 
 arabesques for the graceful lines of nature. Certainly, however, 
 the artist has made his flowers as life-like as he dared. 
 
 There is no doubt that many Italians were employed here, and 
 the delicate beauty of their work can never be equalled by the 
 coarser productions of modern Agra, which traffics largely in 
 humble imitations thereof. Both here and in the palace, and 
 also at Delhi, there are unmistakable hints of their nationality, 
 more especially in the frequent recurrence of the exquisite virgin 
 lily. Amongst the birds, too, has been noticed an admirable 
 
 / 
 
JEWELLED MARBLE. 
 
 129 
 
 mosaic of a bullfinch, which is certainly not known in India ; and 
 above one of the doors of the palace there is said to be a mosaic 
 copy of Raffaelle’s Apollo playing on the violin. 
 
 So nearly akin to nature are some of the designs, that there 
 are unmistakable wreaths of white jessamine, graceful tendrils of 
 vine and clematis, red blossoms of the pomegranate, the white 
 champac, the delicate pink oleander—every flower whereby an 
 Eastern poet would seek to symbolise his thought, is there in 
 all but life-like beauty, inlaid on slabs of polished white marble, 
 not in the minute mosaic of the Florentines, but in fragments of 
 such size as to leave the beauty of each stone discernible.* Each 
 leaf and petal is a separate gem, and sometimes a hundred 
 different stones are required for a single spray of blossoms ; and 
 of these there are hundreds all over the interior, each a perfect 
 gem. A lovely effect of dewy lustre is given to the more solid 
 jasper, agate, and bloodstone, by the use of emeralds, aquamarines, 
 and pearls; cat’s-eyes, too, and amethysts glitter as the light 
 touches them, while lapis lazuli, cornelian, and many another 
 stone, each find their own place in this jewelled garden. 
 
 but the perfection of loveliness is the marble screen, which, in 
 separate slabs, extends all round the marble tombs. These slabs 
 are very large and several inches thick, but they are pierced and 
 carved with the most elaborate open-work patterns, till they simply 
 resemble a piece of exquisite lace, with border of chiselled flowers 
 resembling fleur-de-lis. Just try to realise it—an immense circular 
 screen of lovely lace, which on closer inspection proves to be all 
 solid marble ! 
 
 There is very beautiful inlaid-work on the outside also. Verses 
 of the Koran in black marble (intricate Arabic characters) are 
 inlaid round each giant archway, and delicate arabesques, also of 
 black marble just pointed with red, carry the eye upward without 
 distracting it. It is wonderfully perfect, in spite of those sudden 
 and violent atmospheric changes which prove so trying to all 
 buildings in this country. It is said, however, that the Mahrattas 
 and other ruthless invaders could not refrain from damaging even 
 this fair shrine to such an extent that when the East India 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Company determined to restore it they actually expended a lac of 
 rupees (somewhere about 12,000/. !), and now it is preserved by 
 Government. Its huge silver gates were, however, irrevocably 
 lost, the Mahrattas having carried them off and coined them into 
 rupees. There was also an inner gate formed of a single piece of 
 
 PART OF THE SCREEN. 
 
 agate. Where it is no one knows. It was supposed to have been 
 taken to Bhurtpore and there buried and forgotten, as is commonly 
 enough the fate of valuables in India. 
 
 As you stand at the entrance of the tomb, your eye is carried 
 beyond the marble terrace to a long canal, also of white marble, 
 
THE TAJ BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 131 
 
 whose waters reflect the deep blue heavens, while innumerable 
 fountains sprinkle the tall dark cypress trees with silvery 
 showers. 
 
 The canal extends to the great gateway by which we entered, 
 one of those immense buildings which guard the entrance to all 
 these great Eastern gardens, the poorest and smallest of which 
 would utterly dwarf our boasted gates of old York. This is a 
 magnificent specimen, built of red sandstone and inlaid with 
 white and black marble, having central arches of such a height 
 as to make us feel pigmies indeed. This again is protected by 
 an outer walled court, with great red sandstone gateways on 
 either side. 
 
 In that beautiful shady garden, with its wealth of roses and 
 all lovely flowers, we lingered for many hours, drinking deep 
 draughts of delight. But it was not till we returned at night 
 to see the Taj by the light of a full moon that we realised its 
 ethereal, unearthly loveliness, softened and undefined like some 
 fairy dream. In the warm sunlight it seems to cut clear and 
 sharp against the blue, like a glittering iceberg. In the moon¬ 
 light it is still dazzling, but seems as though newly buried beneath 
 a deep fresh fall of snow, lying lightly on domes and pavement 
 and minarets, and rising above the tall cypresses and dark rich 
 mass of foliage like some strange vision of purity. You can 
 scarcely believe that it is real—you hold your breath lest you 
 should awaken and find that the beautiful picture was but a 
 dream. 
 
 After a while we returned into that exquisite interior. Weird¬ 
 looking figures were burning blue lights, showing every nook and 
 cranny of the great dome. Awed by the scene, we spoke to one 
 another in low, subdued tones; and, struck by the murmurous 
 echoes of that wonderful tomb, we tested them by singing a few 
 lines of “ Brief life is here our portion.” Straightway it seemed 
 as though a chorus of unearthly voices took up the strain, and 
 whispered the words again and again, and carried them away 
 heavenward on the clouds of blue smoke that rose like incense. 
 
 Day after day during our week at Agra the same lodestar drew 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 me back, morning, noon, and night. Other scenes of beauty, in 
 truth, bade the needle sometimes waver, but never could shake 
 its allegiance to that peerless loveliness whose perfection seemed 
 only enhanced by every varying effect of sunlight or moonlight. 
 Unfortunately our quarters were fully three miles distant, at an 
 execrable and ruinous hotel. Had we but known in time, there 
 are rooms to be had, as in a Dak bungalow, in one of the small 
 mosques close to the Taj, where indeed one large room is, with 
 most execrable taste, sometimes used as a ball-room. Imagine 
 our feelings if the New Zealanders were to come and dance their 
 war dances in our mausoleums, or rather our very unromantic 
 cemetery chapels! 
 
 Notwithstanding the distance, however, there were few days 
 when I did not reach the object of my devotion in time to see it 
 transformed from its daylight character of a snowy pearl to that 
 of a sapphire; in other words, the cluster of domes and minarets 
 seemed transformed to vivid blue as they stood in bold relief 
 against the clear sunrise, while the river gleamed below like 
 molten gold. 
 
 Then the chief delight was to leave the beaten track, and find 
 out all manner of delightful nooks almost unexplored, and for 
 that very reason all the more enjoyable. One of my favourite 
 haunts was a very old and neglected Mohammedan burial-place, 
 shadowed by antediluvian trees, twisted and gnarled, and almost 
 leafless from sheer old age. As a contrast, these quaintly 
 picturesque, though humble, and often half-ruined, tombs of the 
 poor, make a strikingly suggestive foreground to that of the 
 imperial couple. 
 
 Another path, wholly untrodden by white feet, is outside the 
 massive wall of red sandstone. Flocks of brilliant green parrots, 
 startled by our approach, darted forth from each carved nook of 
 the old wall like flashes of emerald light. Arrived at the Jumna, 
 a coolie’s boat ferried us to the other side, where we sat the live¬ 
 long day on the yellow sands watching that calm white spirit with 
 its dreamy reflections in the broad, still river, and strove with 
 brush and colour to carry away some remembrance of so fair a 
 
WATER BURIAL. I 33 
 
 scene. Sometimes the gleaming white was carried up into the 
 blue by one soft fleecy cloud— 
 
 “ As if an angel in his upward flight 
 Had left his mantle floating in mid-air.” 
 
 I am bound, however, to confess that too often the clear image 
 of the Taj is disturbed by a hideous object, round which foul 
 birds of prey hover, and which probably sticks on the sandbanks 
 till the wretched being whose caste assigns to him all such work 
 from his birth to his grave, comes with a long pole to float it off 
 again on its seaward journey. This is the worst contrast of all 
 between rich and poor burial, for a Hindoo must be poor indeed 
 if he cannot afford to burn his dead. At least he will buy as 
 much wood as he can afford, and make a little pyre; but such is 
 the dire poverty of many, that too often the remains that are 
 committed to their last unrest in the sacred river, are anything but 
 ashes. 
 
 My attendant in these sketching expeditions had a hunter’s eye 
 for all such loathly objects, and invariably called my attention to 
 them, even when the nasal organ did not too quickly betray 
 their approach; nor would the vultures, kites, and adjutants 
 leave us long in ignorance of the feast they had found. 
 
 The river was so unusually low that I suppose the seaward 
 journey was one of considerable difficulty. There seemed no 
 limit to the number of little children, “ babas,” that floated past; 
 at last we almost ceased to notice them. One day a group of 
 mourners came close below the bank where I was sitting; they 
 carried a little bier, on which, swathed in red linen, lay the body 
 of a small brown baby. One man advanced into the stream, and 
 with bitter wails threw the little body from him; and the whole 
 party then followed him into the water to purify themselves and 
 their clothes, after contact with death. Meanwhile foul birds of 
 prey were gathering round the poor wee baby, threatening to 
 make its journey short indeed. 
 
 I could not but think of the daisies and green turf of our own 
 churchyards, and the peaceful rest of God’s acre. I thought of 
 
134 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 little Florence Dombey’s shudder at the thought of her mother 
 being laid in the cold earth, and of that wise nurse who taught 
 her that it was no cold earth, but the warm comforting earth, 
 where the little brown seeds were laid and left a while, that 
 they might turn to fair and lovely flowers meet for God’s own 
 garden. 
 
 Certainly, for the sake of old associations, our quiet green 
 country churchyards may well be dear to us. Yet I am not sure 
 that our Indian fellow-subjects are not wiser than we are in this 
 matter. Certainly there is something very grand in the simplicity 
 of an ordinary Hindoo funeral by cremation, which, instead of 
 leaving the mortal body to undergo the slow and loathsome 
 process of decay, resolves it in one little hour into simple gases 
 and clean white ash. And assuredly no race in the world are 
 more deeply imbued with reverence for their own souls and bodies 
 than are these wise men of the East, who, from time immemorial, 
 have adhered to the custom of their Aryan ancestors in thus 
 disposing of the dead. 
 
 As regards the soul, we gather from the beautiful poems of the 
 Rig Veda how intense was their conviction that death is but a 
 heavenly birth, and that the righteous dead will hereafter meet in 
 a land of blessedness. Hence the living force of such words as 
 those chaunted round the funeral pyre, when, commending the 
 fleshly limbs to the elements which gave them birth, Agni, the 
 Lord of Fire, is besought, by his flame and brightness, to kindle 
 the unborn part, and convey it to the world of the righteous • to 
 bear and carry the dead, with all his faculties complete, so that 
 L ' crossing the dark valley, which spreadeth boundless around him, 
 the unborn soul may ascend to heaven; the feet of him who is 
 stained with sin may be washed ; that he may go upwards with 
 cleansed feet; and that passing through the gloom, and gazing on 
 every side in wonder, the unborn soul may rise to heaven, borne 
 by the clouds (the water-shedding angels), who shall cool him 
 with their swift motion, and sprinkle him with dew.” 
 
 Then, when after an interval of a few days, during which the 
 silvery ashes are temporarily buried, they are disinterred by the 
 
HINDOO CREMATION. 
 
 ! 35 
 
 priest, who scatters them in the air that they may fall on the holy 
 river, and, as he does so, he commends the dead to the four 
 elements: to the earth, of which he was formed, and which 
 sustained him ; to fire, the emblem of purity, which has consumed 
 his body, that his spirit may be purified on entering a new state 
 of existence ; to air, whereby he breathed; to water, which like¬ 
 wise tended to sustain him, and which at last receives his ashes. 
 
 Truly it seems strange to return from a land where this cleanly 
 custom of cremation is the only recognised legal mode of disposing 
 of the sou?s cast-off garment, for nearly two hundred millions 
 of her majesty’s subjects (and where the simplicity, cleanliness, 
 and exceeding cheapness of this method of honourably consigning 
 ashes to ashes must commend itself to every reflecting mind), to 
 find folk in Britain so wholly wedded to earth, that, not content 
 with maintaining their own right to earth-burial, they must needs 
 try to prove illegality, in order to prevent less prejudiced men 
 from so dealing with their dead that they may in truth be able to 
 commit “dust to dust,” and thus literally carry into practice these 
 oft-repeated, but now utterly meaningless, words ! 
 
 The mere suggestion is treated as though the touch of cleansing 
 fire were destructive of all sentiment of reverence for the honoured 
 body. Yet those who so speak are the first to shudder when the 
 Hindoo, who is too poor to cremate his dead, commits him to the 
 river (which so often means to the jackals on the shore), or when 
 the wealthy I’arsee deliberately exposes his dead to the ravening 
 carrion birds. And yet, after all, is it any worse to be eaten 
 quickly by a few large animals, than slowly, day after day, perhaps 
 for years, to furnish feasts to hosts of small disgusting worms ? 1 
 
 1 The subject is one of such intensely practical interest, that I will venture 
 to quote two passages from the newspapers of the day. The first is an extract 
 from Sir Lyon Playfair’s speech in the House on April 30, 1S84 : — 
 
 “ Both religion and science have now come to the belief that the disposal 
 of the dead is a question of sentiment and convenience. Either burial or 
 cremation produces exactly the same end, the resolution of the body, and 
 differs only in regard to the time in which the resolution is effected. Burial 
 resolves the body into its simple gases and solids, according to its efficiency, in 
 from three to twenty years. Burning produces exactly the same gases 
 
136 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 If we must force ourselves to look closely at horrible truths, 
 there is something infinitely more repulsive in the thought of the 
 ghastly details of decay and loathsome corruption, which we all 
 know too well must of necessity follow an ordinary burial under 
 any other condition save that of fire. Neither earth nor water 
 can hinder the horrid process whereby the innocent dead so often 
 endanger the health and safety of the living. 
 
 Only ethereal fire (the most sacred symbol in almost every vary 
 ing faith of the world, as the universally accepted emblem of the 
 
 and SOLIDS IN ONE HOUR. The earth in its effective state is simply a slow, 
 burning furnace; the crematory is a rapid one. In the earth the body is 
 slowly burned by the air within the pores of the soil. All the organic part 
 of the body passes into gases, which escape into the air as carbonic acid, 
 water, and ammonia. 
 
 “ When everything is favourable to burial— when there is no intervening 
 coffin to retard the decay, when the soil is sufficient in quantity and porosity— 
 the decay or slow burning goes on as nature intended, innocuously to the 
 living, and in fulfilment of an infinitely wise purpose of the great Creator. 
 
 “ For these ultimate gases into which the body is resolved constitute the 
 whole aerial food of plants, and are by them constantly moulded into new 
 forms of organic life. And when we mahe our burials in this simple and 
 complete way there is no violation of any natural law, but we help to fulfil the 
 great cycle of the world, that death and life continually alternate, for death 
 is a source of life, and the dissolution of one generation is necessary for the 
 
 life of the succeeding one.This is the Ideal burial suggested by the 
 
 words earth to earth. . . . The actual condition of burial as commonly 
 practised in this country both among rich and poor is tco repulsive to quote. 
 
 .It shows little respect to the dead, and is a continual menace to the 
 
 living. It destroys the soil, it fouls the air, it contaminates the water, and is 
 a fertile source of human disease. Are you, then, surprised, that a reaction 
 against the abuses of burial has taken place, and that scientific men have 
 proposed to re-establish burning as one means of remedying these abominable 
 evils? The body is subject to the immutable law of resolution by decay, as. 
 the great provision of the Creator to nourish plants required as food by new 
 
 generations.What this process of decay is, in even the best of our 
 
 churchyards, I do not venture to describe. Cremation yields to this law 
 
 instant obedience. The body yields in the furnace the very same gases which it 
 yields from the soil. The time only differs. In THE one case an hour is 
 SUFFICIENT ; IN THE OTHER CASE TWENTY YEARS MAY NOT SUFFICE. 
 The ultimate processes are not merely similar, they are absolutely identical. 
 Both fulfil the end—‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust ’—but in cremation that is a 
 
FIRE VERSUS EARTH. 
 
 137 
 
 visible presence of God) can avert all such noxious results ; and 
 yet, while for generation after generation no objection was raised 
 against intramural burying-grounds (where thousands of bodies 
 were crowded into a space where there was not room for hundreds, 
 till the horrible ooze and damp of the bulging walls forced the 
 authorities to interfere), the moment that the advantages of cre¬ 
 mation are suggested, howls of indignation are raised, and it is 
 asserted that at this point liberty of the subject ceases, and that 
 the law of the land should be brought to bear against such persons 
 as choose thus to dispose of their own dead ! 
 
 reality; in burial only a postponed hope, which the survivor may never live 
 to see realised.” 
 
 One more extract shall speak for itself. It is from the Consular Report for 
 1883, by Mr. Corbett, of Rio de Janeiro, and embodies the investigations of 
 Dr. Freire on the subject of yellow fever. Dr. Freire states :— 
 
 “ I think it a duty to divulge as soon as possible a circumstance of much 
 importance to the public health. 
 
 “ Having gone to visit the Turnjuba cemetery, where those dying in the 
 maritime hospital of Santa Isabel are interred, I gathered from a foot below 
 the surface some of the earth from the grave of a person who died about a 
 year ago of yellow fever. On examining a small quantity with the micro¬ 
 scope, I found myriads of microbli exactly identical with those found in the 
 excreta of persons sick with yellow fever. 
 
 “ These observations, which were verified in all their details by my 
 auxiliaries, show that the germs of yellow fever perpetuate themselves in the 
 cemeteries, which are like so many nurseries for the propagation of new 
 generations destined to devastate our city. A guinea-pig, whose blood 
 examination showed that it was in a pure state, was shut up in a confined 
 space in which was placed the earth taken from that grave. In five days the 
 animal was dead, and its blood proved to be literally crammed with crypto- 
 ccccus in various stages of evolution.” Could science speak more plainly, and 
 is sentiment to get the better of its teachings? We have too great a faith in 
 healthy public opinion ever to doubt its verdict in this matter. 
 
 There have also been cases in which an outbreak* of the plague has been 
 distinctly traced to the removal of earth in which plague-stricken corpses had 
 been buried 300 years before. So, too, with the burial of diseased cattle. 
 M. Pasteur, the great chemist, has obtained germs of disease as virulent as in 
 the hour of death, from a pit wherein cattle (who, twelve years previously, had 
 died of splenic fever) had been buried. Such germs may be brought to the 
 surface by deep burrowing worms, and are thus the means of spreading con¬ 
 tagion again, so that of the advantages of cremation in the case of diseased 
 cattle there can certainly be no doubt. 
 
138 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The most remarkable feature in this opposition is the attempt 
 to show that cremation is an unsuitable method of disposing of a 
 Christian body. Men and women who devoutly believe that the 
 noble army of martyrs has been largely recruited from the stake, 
 and that multitudes of ransomed souls have been wafted to heaven 
 on the smoke of their own burnt-sacrifice, nevertheless deem that 
 it would be irreverent for us deliberately to deal thus with the 
 dead. They dare not suggest that the martyrs will suffer in 
 future because their ashes were sprinkled to the four winds, but 
 they think it is by no means a precedent to be followed, as though 
 He to Whom belongs “ the fulness of the earth ” was not also 
 the true Lord of the Fire ! 
 
 Nay, rather, if we come to such questions, the distinction is all 
 in favour of fire, for whereas to be of the earth earthy, describes 
 all that belongs only to our lower nature, light and fire are above 
 all, the chosen symbols of the world’s Creator. When the devout 
 Aryan commended the spirit of his dead to Agni, the Lord of the 
 Fire, he only followed the instinct apparently natural to mankind, 
 which in all ages has accepted fire as the most meet symbol of the 
 Almighty. 
 
 Without referring to ancient faiths, at the present day countless 
 millions of Buddhists, Brahmins, and Parsees feed the holy fire in 
 their temples as diligently as did the Levitical priesthood in 
 obedience to the commandment delivered by God Himself to 
 Moses, “The fire shall be ever burning upon the altar. It shall 
 never go out.” 1 In those days God sometimes revealed Himself 
 as “a consuming fire,” 2 or, as on Mount Sinai, as “a devouring 
 fire.” 3 But at other times, as on Mount Horeb , 4 Fie appeared in 
 the likeness of a flame of fire, a living glorious light, which 
 shone around the bush without so much as scathing it. 
 
 Thus, during the wanderings in the wilderness, the Lord went 
 by night before the Israelites in a guiding pillar of fire to give 
 them light , 5 and when they had built them a city He promised to 
 be a guardian wall of fire round about it . 6 Under the new 
 
 1 Lev. vi. 18. 2 Num. xvi. 35. 3 Ex. xxiv. 17. 
 
 4 Ex. iii. 2. 5 Ex. xiii. 21. c Zech. ii. 5. 
 
THE SACRED FIRE-SYMBOL. 
 
 139 
 
 dispensation the Holy Spirit revealed Himself to the waiting 
 disciples at Jerusalem in the likeness of tongues of living fire. 
 Therefore, in memory of that Pentecostal revelation of Himself 
 do all branches of the Christian Church—Greek, Roman, Anglican 
 —all, except only the strictly “ Protestant,” reverence the symbolic 
 lights on the altar. 
 
 From first to last our sacred Scriptures continually recall this 
 symbolism of the Most High, as when Elijah calls on the Israelites 
 to choose between serving Baal and Jehovah, he says , 1 “ The 
 God that answereth by fire let him be God.” Then came the 
 direct answer to his appeal, and the fire of the Lord fell and 
 consumed the burnt sacrifice, and all the people recognised that 
 He alone was God. 
 
 Since, then, He Who maketh His angels spirits, also maketh 
 the flaming fire his minister (or servant), why should we shrink 
 from the funeral pyre, which may be to our beloved dead even as 
 the chariot of fire, which of old bore the favoured prophet to the 
 Master’s presence ? It seems to me that the question of religious 
 sentiment is all in favour of cremation, and undoubtedly there is 
 much to be said in favour of a process which secures incorruption 
 by allowing no time for change. So I think there can be little 
 doubt that ere long common sense will carry the day, and Britain 
 will allow her children the option of reviving the custom of their 
 ancestors — a custom which is said to have been kept up in Ireland 
 long after the introduction of Christianity. 
 
 I can understand that many who have only witnessed cremation 
 as practised in India, may shrink from the publicity of the scene, 
 but no such pain can attach to the privacy and perfect simplicity 
 of such a crematory as I have seen in a quiet corner of a beautiful 
 burial-ground in Japan. Here at night the mourners deposit 
 their dead, coffined in a chest of pine-wood, and at sunrise they 
 return to receive the urn wherein are stored the pure white ashes, 
 to which they then give honourable burial, erecting a picturesque 
 monument, and returning from time to time with offerings of fresh 
 flovveis and incense. Everything in this place is clean and orderly, 
 
 1 1 Kings, xviii. 24—38. 
 
140 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and a poor Japanese has the comfort of knowing that there is 
 absolutely no necessity for his funeral expenses exceeding the 
 modest sum of five shillings. Indeed, the most exclusive rich 
 man is only charged about twenty-eight shillings for a solitary first- 
 class funeral. (Those who know how sorely funeral charges weigh 
 on many an afflicted family in Britain will be able to realise the 
 full meaning of this detail.) 
 
 As for ‘ourselves, however we may revolt from the business-like 
 mechanical nature of the scientific cremation furnace, it is but a 
 choice of pain, and perhaps ere long we shall feel that it is best 
 that the coffin should be allowed to sink from beneath its pall into 
 a subterranean crematory beneath the chapel, there to be subjected 
 for one little half-hour to the cleansing, consuming flames, and 
 that ere the close of the accustomed religious service the ashes of 
 the dead should take the place of the coffin beneath the funeral- 
 pall, and be thence conveyed to their final resting-place, in family 
 vault or beneath the daisied turf. 
 
 To return to the floating babies on their unrestful seaward journey. 
 One other ingredient of annoyance mars the enjoyment of most 
 Indian rivers ; these are the dhobies or washermen—to my mind 
 the worst evil of the two, for the dead glide by in silence, but there 
 is no escape from the obtrusive noise of the living. Perhaps a 
 dozen men, or more, stand in a row along the water’s edge, armed 
 with your linen and that of your neighbours, wherewith they 
 scourge the water or some large stone—literally using your nice 
 embroidered raiment as if it were a cat-o’-nine-tails, and as if 
 their one idea of washing was to try how hard they could strike. 
 And at every blow each man exclaims some pet sentence at the 
 top of his voice, generally some one word of two syllables, and 
 this he reiterates till it seems written on your brain ; and when a 
 whole troop of dhobies thus shout in chorus, the effect is deafening, 
 and suggests some hideous war-whoop instead of being the peaceful 
 song of these hard-working heroes of soapsuds, who, as a class, 
 are about the best, and certainly the most diligent, servants in 
 India. 
 
 Perhaps the most enjoyable of our evenings at the Taj were 
 
THE HINDOO SOLOMON. 
 
 141 
 
 those when, climbing those tall, white minarets just at sunset, we 
 seemed to have risen into an atmosphere of purest light, whence, 
 poised in mid-air, we could look down upon the glowing courts and 
 domes and garden, and upon the vast circumference of the plains 
 stretching away on every side, and upon the beautiful Jumna 
 winding towards us from the fair city of Agra. 
 
 One other lovely spot we found, almost as rarely visited as 
 the opposite shore. This is a certain flagstaff, from which you 
 look right up the river, having the Taj and its reflections on your 
 left hand, while beyond rises the magnificent old fort, built of 
 massive red sandstone, yet all so exquisitely carded and so 
 adorned with jewelled marble, that you feel Bishop’s Heber’s 
 description to be still unsurpassable—“ a fortress built by giants 
 and finished by jewellers.” It is in truth a marvel of strength and 
 beauty, and as you look up at those mighty walls and grand red 
 towers, you feel that the great Emperor, Akbar the Magnificent, 
 might well deem his fortress impregnable, and, like another king 
 of old, have looked in pride on the “ great Babylon that he had 
 made.” 
 
 Among the natives, the city of Agra still bears his name, 
 Akbarabad, the town of Akbar, and they remember his power, and 
 his wisdom and goodness, as that of another Solomon, whom, in 
 truth, he seems to have resembled in most respects. An amusing 
 native account of his seraglio states that by a multitude of 
 marriages with the daughters of neighbouring princes he made 
 powerful alliances, and secured himself against invasion and 
 insurrection. His harem contained five thousand women, each of 
 whom had her separate apartment! They were divided into 
 companies, like regiments, with a woman at the head of each, and 
 one over all acted as generalissimo. Each woman had definite 
 employment assigned to her, and the internal affairs of the zenana 
 were conducted with as much order and regularity as those of 
 any other department of the state. He was equally wise in his 
 regulations for a standing army of 400,000 men, and in whatever 
 affected the general prosperity of his kingdom—a kingdom whose 
 annual revenue was forty million sterling. 
 
142 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Whatever these Mogul emperors took in hand, was done on a 
 truly imperial scale; for instance, to supply the imperial wardrobe, 
 skilled manufacturers were brought from China, Persia, and Europe, 
 and established at Delhi, where also the most cunning craftsmen 
 of all sorts were attached to the palace—makers of gold and silver 
 lace, jewellers, engravers, workers in crystal, swordsmiths, and 
 manufactures of beautiful inlaid weapons of all sorts. Though 
 there was no “ Royal Academy” for the encouragement of paint¬ 
 ing, Akbar had a private staff of artists, whose work he per¬ 
 sonally inspected every week, awarding premiums to such as 
 excelled. 
 
 Akbar being directly descended from Mohammed, had a good 
 right to the reverence of all Mohammedans. I-Iowever, he seems 
 to have been equally loved by all the creeds, inasmuch as being 
 great and large-minded, yet thoroughly devout in his own faith, he 
 was equally liberal to all other men. In fact he is described as 
 having had a passion for the study of religion, and from north, 
 south, east, and west, he summoned to his court all the learned 
 divines of every faith, offering them all possible inducement to 
 produce the older writings of their respective creeds. To the 
 study of these matters he set apart the evening of every Friday 
 (that is, the Mohammedan sabbath), and strove to gather the gems 
 from every faith, and so to build up a system of truth, much as the 
 members of the Brahm-Somaj are now striving to do. 
 
 The really old writings were then, however, still sealed books. 
 The original Vedas of the Brahmins, the early Buddhist canonical 
 books, the writings of Zoroaster, were still kept looked away 
 among the treasures of old Time, as securely as the mammoths in 
 the Siberian and North American ice-cliffs. The discovery of the 
 ivory, and the key to the learning of the past, were both reserved 
 for these later days, when from the Western world, such men as 
 Max Muller have sent to the wise men of Hindoostan the true 
 interpretation of the noble Sanskrit tongue of their own ancestors, 
 with all its long-forgotten lore, and have thrown such new light on 
 those sacred writings, as must inevitably compel them to retrace 
 their steps to the old mono-theistic faith, when the use of images 
 
MOGUL RULE VERSUS BRITISH. 
 
 M3 
 
 was forbidden, transmigration not invented, and caste of course, 
 did not exist, as the vile native tribes had not been conquered and 
 enslaved by the Aryan race. 
 
 So Akbar’s study of the creeds was carried on at a heavy dis¬ 
 advantage. Altogether he was a very grand emperor. He died 
 about the year 1600. For four generations his descendants kept 
 up the credit of his name, and (making allowance for Oriental 
 peculiarities) were all a fine race. In 1707 died Aurungzebe, and 
 with him the glory of his dynasty. 
 
 Now all the grandeur of that mighty Mogul empire and of 
 the imperial house of Timour is but a name—as wholly a vision 
 of the past as the glory of Babylon or Nineveh. And these 
 mighty forts and palaces of polished marble ; these masses of 
 red rock, carved with rich arabesques till they become marvels 
 of art—all these costly and tasteful buildings, are the barracks 
 or offices of white men from beyond the hated “ black waters ” ; 
 men whose paltry, hideous buildings of brick and mortar excited 
 the derision of the people for many a day, till in these later 
 years such things as railways and telegraphs, bridges and canals, 
 suppression of armed robbers, security of life, schools for the 
 million, the establishment of good hospitals, and of courts 
 of justice, where bribery finds no entrance, an upright police, 
 and many kmdred advantages, have proved that Britain had 
 gifts to bestow on India—gifts, not of beauty indeed, but 
 of power. 1 
 
 It is said that Akbar was not only an eminent statesman and 
 a brave soldier, but also that he was skilled in darker mysteries 
 
 1 Britain does not appeal to the eye in the matter of architecture (especially 
 of Church architecture) as did these builders of stately tombs. But whereas 
 these sought only their own pomp and glory, she certainly has the honour of 
 having established a government for the good and security of the many. She 
 found a nation of' armed men, each compelled to be ready to defend his life 
 with his weapon—a country full of banditti ravaging the land in immense 
 gangs ; upwards of a hundred predatory tribes of hill or forest, subsisting by 
 plundering their neighbours ; a seaboard and great estuaries of rivers infested 
 by pirates—on all hands there w r ere forays, raids and incendiarism. The land 
 was full of blood; the hill-tribes offered human sacrifices to their gods, those 
 
144 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of magic art; and wondrous stories are told of his supernatural 
 talents. 
 
 His majestic fort is nearly a mile and a-half in circumference ; 
 its great outer walls are of red sandstone somewhere about eighty 
 feet high, and are guarded by a moat a hundred feet wide. But 
 the frowning exterior, which might well awe besiegers unprovided 
 with modern artillery, gives small clue to the fairy-like loveliness 
 of the imperial palace within. Akbar’s judgment-hall is worthy 
 of the builder—the great hall where he gave audience to all 
 who sought redress for any grievance whatsoever. One marvels 
 how so mighty an emperor could find time for all these personal 
 interviews with his people ; but his wisdom and unceasing dili¬ 
 gence in business have become almost proverbial, and the 
 amount of work he got through seems positively amazing. Cer¬ 
 tainly he contrived to lengthen his days by stealing many hours 
 from the night; for in sleep, as in food, his habits were abste¬ 
 mious as those of any fakeer, and his ministers had much ado 
 to be always ready at their master’s call. 
 
 of the plains endured self-inflicted torture; widows were burnt, children 
 murdered. 
 
 Now the land is full of peaceful unarmed traders and agriculturists. The 
 turbulent hill-tribes furnish us with loyal soldiers and police. The Thugs (pro¬ 
 fessional stranglers) have ceased to exist. The Dacoits, or gang robbers, 
 though at present giving some trouble in certain districts, are but an insig¬ 
 nificant remnant of the powerful banditti who kept the land in terror in the 
 early part of the century. The survivors of the pirates are now good seamen, 
 and the Indian Navy having finished its work in clearing the sea-coast of this 
 pest, is now a memory of the pas'-, as are the various special branches of criminal 
 administration which did all this good work on land. 
 
 A hundred years ago, the dead weight of caste slavery was unbroken. Now 
 it is loosened in a thousand ways. Schools and railway carriages have taught 
 men of all castes that they can sit together without contamination. 
 
 The very face of the country has changed—pestiferous swamps have been 
 drained and are now fertile lands, with healthy cities. Wide tracts of jungle, 
 the secure refuge of evil beasts, have been reclaimed. The great rivers are 
 now brought under control; canals receive their surplus waters, and instead 
 of causing desolation, supply irrigation. Railroads transport corn to famine- 
 stricken districts. In short, the story of India’s progress under British Rule 
 is one of which she has no reason to be ashamed. 
 
THE GATES OF SOMNATH. 
 
 145 
 
 His throne still remains beneath its canopy of exquisitely 
 carved white marble, inlaid with groups of flowers in cornelian, 
 jasper, and all precious stones ; much the same work as those 
 at the Taj, but more graceful and natural, inasmuch as 
 being a less rigid Mohammedan than his grandson he suffered 
 his artists to adhere strictly to nature. There are also panels 
 of flowers carved in white marble that are life-like in their 
 beauty. Overhead the great hall extends in countless graceful 
 arches. 
 
 Akbar’s great hall is now used as a British armoury. Among 
 its treasures are two beautifully carved and inlaid gates, twelve 
 feet high, and adorned with shields of polished metal. They are 
 said to be of sandal-wood, and to have once guarded the entrance 
 to a great Hindoo temple at Somnath, but were carried off thence 
 by the Affghan Sultan Mahmoud, who, in the year a.d. 877, 
 ravaged the whole of Guzerat, with the double object of sup¬ 
 pressing idolatry and enriching his own coffers with the spoils of 
 the heathen. 
 
 The great sandal-wood gates, which were a marvel of elaborate 
 Hindoo carving, were so beautiful and so immensely prized by 
 the people, that Mahmoud caused them to be carried all the way 
 to Ghuznee, where, after his death, they served as portals to 
 his tomb, their presence there bearing constant witness to the 
 supremacy of the Mohammedans, and to the humiliation of the 
 Hindoos. When, eight hundred years later, an avenging British 
 army marched to Ghuznee, it was deemed expedient by Lord 
 EUenborough to remove these celebrated gates, as a practical 
 evidence to both Hindoos and Mussulmans that the supreme 
 power was now vested in the hands of the English. Therefore 
 they were with immense difficulty transported to Agra by our 
 army, to the extreme disgust of the British officers who had 
 charge of them, but much to the satisfaction of the Hindoos, 
 who naturally triumphed in the discomfiture of their oppressors. 
 
 The Gates of Somnath were henceforth doubly historical; their 
 capture holds a prominent place in Lord Ellenborough’s cele¬ 
 brated proclamation at the end of the Cabool war; and 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 thousands of Christians, Hindoos, and Moslems have flocked to 
 gaze, nothing doubting, on so rare a specimen of the sandal-wood 
 carving of Guzerat. It was not till a very few years ago that a 
 well-known artist, Mr. Simpson, a canny Scot, and one much 
 given to accurate investigation of all sorts, pointed out the 
 curious fact that all the carving is purely Mohammedan, and 
 that there is no trace of anything Hindoo in the design. Not an 
 indication of any one of the three hundred and thirty millions 
 of Hindoo gods. This led to further examination of the gates, 
 which, on being inspected with a microscope, were proved not to 
 be of sandal-wood, but only of Diodar pine. Hence it is 
 evident that a fraud has at some time been perpetrated by some 
 one, and the supposition is that the original gates were probably 
 destroyed by accidental fire, during their stay at Ghuznee, and 
 that when Mahmoud’s tomb was repaired, new gates were made 
 of the wood that could most readily be procured. They are old 
 enough now, however, being battered and damaged, the 
 carving injured, some panels broken, and rudely repaired with 
 scraps of wood and iron. Moreover, as on the great gate we 
 noticed at Allahabad, a number of old horse-shoes are nailed 
 all over these curious portals, suggesting strange affinities between 
 the superstitions of the eastern and western world. 
 
 That great temple of Somnath was one specially dear to the 
 Hindoos, who loaded it with offerings. It was therefore an ex¬ 
 ceedingly tempting prize to the Mohammedan Sultan, whose 
 cupidity could always veil itself beneath a holy zeal for the sup¬ 
 pression of idolatry. Descending, therefore, from time to time, 
 like an eagle from his eyrie amid the snows of the Gaucasus, he 
 pounced on what treasures he pleased, and carried them off to his 
 mountain fastnesses. 
 
 Having thus descended on the province of Guzerat, on the 
 shores of the Indian Ocean, he heard how two thousand villages 
 were set apart for the exclusive support of this temple of 
 Somnath, the judge of the dead, whose golden statue was washed 
 every morning with sacred water brought from the far distant 
 Ganges. The attendants of the temple numbered two thousand 
 
A WEALTHY IDOL. 
 
 147 
 
 Brahmans, five hundred dancing girls, three hundred musicians, 
 and three hundred barbers. Mahmoud, determined forthwith to 
 suppress an idol so wealthy, laid siege to his domains. 
 
 The temple was defended by a strong citadel, standing on a 
 rocky peninsula jutting into the sea, and further strengthened by 
 walls and battlements. These were guarded by men fighting for 
 hearth and faith, who managed to hold their ground, till a 
 large force had rallied to their assistance. Nevertheless 
 Mahmoud carried the day, and entered the citadel and temple 
 in triumph. 
 
 He found himself in a great hall supported by fifty-six pillars, 
 and encircled with golden images of the gods, while the colossal 
 statue of Somnath towered over all. To prove his abhorrence 
 of idols, Mahmoud, with his own hand, struck off the nose of 
 this great image, and bade his attendants reduce it to fragments. 
 
 Then the Brahmins fell on their knees, and with tears and 
 lamentations implored that their idol might be spared, offering 
 for his ransom a sum so vast that the counsellors of the Sultan 
 urged him to agree thereto. He, however, indignantly rejected 
 the idea of becoming a seller of idols, and bade his people 
 demolish it without delay ; and well was he rewarded, for in the 
 interior of the image he found a mine of treasure of all sorts, 
 pearls, rubies, and diamonds, of almost incalculable value, and 
 infinitely exceeding the sum offered him by the Brahmans. Thus, 
 laden with booty, he returned to Ghuznee, carrying with him 
 captives innumerable, and the great gates whose descendants 
 have now, as we have seen, travelled yet further to find a resting- 
 place in the British armoury at Agra. 
 
 From the Hall of Audience you pass into countless rooms and 
 halls, courts and gardens, where cool fountains fling their spray 
 over the clustering roses, and rare and lovely flowers cover the 
 shady trellises. 
 
 Turning aside from the glare of hot sunlight into the deep, 
 cool shadow, you find yourself in the bath-room of the zenana. 
 Its whole walls and roof are encrusted with thousands of 
 tiny convex mirrors, each one of which reflected the light of our 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 torches, so that, the whole place seemed to glitter like some won¬ 
 drous mine of gems. The great marble baths where the nymphs 
 disported themselves were supplied by streams of water which 
 flowed in a multitude of little cascades, rippling over a crystal 
 background, behind which were placed innumerable lamps, 
 thus shedding a soft mellowed light into that pleasant bath¬ 
 room. 
 
 But the palm of fairy architecture is reserved for the Zenana 
 Pavilions—the loveliest buildings, perched like graceful turrets 
 on the great wall of red sandstone overhanging the river, but of 
 whose dreamy beauty no word-painting could give you the 
 faintest shadow of an idea; roofs, pillars, balconies, all of the 
 purest white marble, and all carved with the same marvellously- 
 elaborate detail. Each panel is a study, and different from all its 
 neighbours ; each chamber seems as though a screen of rare 
 lace had been drawn round it, and suddenly petrified, or as if 
 some snow king had covered these shrines with fairy frost-work 
 on a giant scale. You cannot realise that it is marble; rather 
 it seems like the purest ivory carving. How insignificant our 
 much-vaunted morsels of marble bas-relief do look after this 
 lavish wealth of labour. Then there are more and more great 
 panels of carved marble flowers, solid, and, to my taste, loveliest 
 of all. 
 
 Each pavilion has an outer court. Delicate inlaid pillars 
 support a widely projecting roof of great slabs—white marble, 
 of course—and a similar balcony of rare carving rests on the 
 red sandstone wall, whose base is washed by the blue Jumna. 
 Myriads of green parrots nestle in every niche, or dart through 
 the sunshine ; and here you may sit and dream of all lovely 
 things, as the cloud-shadows pass over the beautiful Taj, which 
 lies reflected in the broad reach of the river. 
 
 Or, if it please you, you may moralise on the changes and 
 chances of this mortal life, when you remember that he who 
 built that fair monument to his love, was imprisoned in these 
 very rooms by her son, just when he was about to prepare a 
 similar tomb for himself on the opposite shore. 
 
MARBLE MOSQUES. 
 
 149 
 
 Here, in hopeless captivity, he pined away the seven years of 
 life that still remained to him, during which he built that 
 exquisite Motee inusjid — “ The Pearl Mosque,” rightly so named — 
 
 ZENANA PAVILION. 
 
 since, like the true pearl, which owes its growth within the 
 shell to the pain and suffering of its inmate, this fair gem 
 owed its birth to the sore trials of the unfortunate father of 
 Aurungzebe. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 150 
 
 This pearl of architecture is a worthy companion to the Taj. 
 From all parts of the country you descry its five domes of snow- 
 white marble rising above the mighty walls of the fort, and 
 gleaming in the. sunlight. Nor are they less beautiful when 
 cutting clear against a deep blue sky, which finds a quiet mirror 
 in the tank of holy water in the court below ; while the deep-red 
 sandstone all around completes the fairy tricolour. Round 
 three sides of the court runs an arcade of radiant white pillars ; 
 and clustering arches of the same pure marble form the temple 
 itself—perfect in its symmetry, spotless in its purity—verily 
 the pearl of mosques. 
 
 It is said that the idea of building this beautiful musjid was 
 suggested by Shah Jehan’s lovely daughter Jehanari, as being the 
 best diversion for her father’s sad thoughts. She had, by her own 
 request, been permitted to share his captivity. She was a woman 
 of the right sort—brave, benevolent, and of excellent wit. We 
 saw her tomb at Delhi, a white marble sarcophagus, sculptured 
 with flowers, and inlaid with gems ; but in the centre, fresh green 
 grass strikes the eye as strangely un-Eastern, and an inscription, 
 written by herself, desires that only grass and flowers may mark 
 the tomb of the perishable pilgrim Jehanari—these being the 
 fittest adornments for the resting-place of a holy spirit. 
 
 Besides this beautiful Pearl Mosque there was one more gem¬ 
 like still, for the exclusive use of the ladies of the zenana, 
 showing a strangely liberal view of the requirements of the 
 soul feminine, but to this we could not gain admittance. It has, 
 I believe, been not only closed, but actually walled up, lest access 
 to the armoury should be thence obtained. 
 
 Nor is this the only place walled up; for beneath these 
 sunlit pavilions of beauty are long dark passages and gloomy 
 recesses, which doubtless could tell many a dark tale, “ of war 
 and terror, tyranny and tears.” Many a bloody crime is said to 
 have been here enacted; many a helpless victim dragged along 
 those narrow tortuous passages, and plunged into those dreary 
 cells, there to await a tyrant’s pleasure—perhaps to linger weary 
 years—ere gentle death came to their release. 
 
MYSTERIES OF TIIE HAREM. 
 
 15 I 
 
 We groped our way along these dismal ways till we came to a 
 place where some English engineers had pulled down a wall 
 within which they found a chamber overlooking the river; and 
 here lay three skeletons— one of a young man, and two of women, 
 one old, one young, the latter richly dressed, and adorned 
 with jewels. Here they had been left to perish by starvation; 
 and though a deep well lay within the inclosure, there was no 
 means of drawing water thence. 
 
 In one of the lower passages was found a horrible pit, above 
 which was fixed a great beam, from which hung several female 
 skeletons. How many more may have dropped into the darkness 
 below, none can tell; but enough remained to prove that the 
 zenana life was not altogether paradise, but that jealousy and 
 hatred, and bitter misery and anguish, sometimes contrived to 
 enter even there. 
 
 Nor had the Imperial Seraglio any monopoly of such sad 
 hints. Various similar discoveries have been made in this and 
 other cities. In Agra itself, not many years ago, some workmen 
 who were deepening a drain in a beautiful garden came suddenly 
 on traces of a great palace that had formerly stood there. As 
 they advanced they found themselves in one of those under¬ 
 ground rooms, or tykhanas , which secure a cool refuge from the 
 heat. Here a double wall puzzled them so much that they broke 
 it open, and found therein five ghastly skeletons, standing up¬ 
 right, clothed in their usual raiment. Three of them were evi¬ 
 dently of very high rank — a young man, and on either side of 
 him a young woman, with long dark hair. Their dresses and 
 veils were of costly muslin, spangled with gold. On their 
 wrists and ankles were gold bangles, and round their throats 
 „ necklaces of pearls and amulets, whose charm had availed those 
 poor ladies little in their hour of need. These jewels were said 
 to be worth a thousand pounds. The other two skeletons were 
 those of old grey-haired women, doubtless attendants, whose 
 lives had thus been forfeited to the indiscretion of their young 
 mistresses. 
 
 We devoted one long day to sight-seeing among the tombs 
 
152 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and gardens—tombs of poets and emperors—gardens, not of 
 flowers, being purely native, but of cool, deep shade, where we 
 might sit in marble pavilions overlooking the river, and rest in 
 pleasant idleness. 
 
 A seven miles’ drive brought us to Secundra, the tomb of the 
 great Akbar, which is grand and massive like his fort—a huge 
 red pile of the same dark-red sandstone. It stands in a great 
 walled garden having four grand gateways, all of the same red 
 stone. The tomb is built in four huge terraces narrowing as they 
 ascend. At the four corners of each terrace is a pavilion with a 
 dome, inlaid with marble and encaustic tiles, green, blue and gold, 
 Avhich seem wholly regardless of all variations of climate. 
 
 The upper story of this great mass of building is a court of 
 white marble, in the centre of which lies the marble sarcophagus 
 of the mighty emperor, with the broad blue sky for his canopy. 
 On his tomb are inscribed in Persian characters the ninety-nine 
 attributes of God, which were duly translated to us by a fine 
 old priest. Good old man, he was not willing to deceive us as to 
 our future prospects, so when he came to the title of Defender 
 of the Faithful, he took good care to explain to us that we were 
 beyond the pale ! 
 
 All round this court are arches and pillars, which serve as an 
 immortal page, inlaid with verses of the Koran, in black marble. 
 In every niche of those long arcades is a window of the usual 
 lace-work carving in marble. It begins to seem quite common. 
 Yet if we could transport but one such window to some English 
 church, how the people would flock to see it, and how the news¬ 
 papers would laud the skill of the artist. But this is only the 
 work of “those wretched niggers,” so most resident Britons 
 scarcely give it a thought—few go out of their daily course to 
 look at anything “native.” 
 
 Perhaps the place of all others where we were most amazed by 
 the lavish profusion of such perfect work is at Futteypore Sicri, 
 in the Bhurtpore hills. It lies twenty-four miles from Agra, a 
 very beautiful drive. 
 
 As we left the city the sky was overcast, and the sultry calm 
 
A FORSAKEN CITY OF PALACES. 
 
 153 
 
 of the morning seemed to threaten a storm. Nevertheless we 
 thought it best to push on, and were rewarded by a clearer noon ; 
 only a few heavy drops of rain fell, just to cool the air. But the 
 
 RUINS OF FUTTEYPORE SICR1. 
 
 effect was infinitely grander than that of any blue sky, for, as we 
 drew near the magnificent mass of red sandstone walls, palaces, 
 and towers, which crown a high crag rising abruptly from the 
 
154 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 plain, the leaden clouds became positively inky, and the dark 
 masses of foliage stood out in bold shadow, such as Salvator 
 would have loved to paint. Only one ray of vivid sunlight 
 gleamed on the mighty ruins of this stupendous, forsaken, sum¬ 
 mer palace of the great Akbar—a palace stately as our own 
 Windsor, and incomparably richer in detail, yet deserted in obe¬ 
 dience to the caprice of an anchorite, whose sanctity, in truth, had 
 first attracted Akbar to settle on the hill where the holy man had 
 made his cell. 
 
 And the way it came about was this. The emperor was 
 great, and wise, and mighty, and all that gold or wisdom could 
 give were his. Only the voices of children were wanting to glad¬ 
 den his home. Sons and daughters were indeed born to him, 
 but all died in infancy. Then he determined that he would make 
 a pilgrimage to the distant shrine of the holiest Mohammedan 
 saint, Moinuddeen of Ajineer, and that his favourite wife should 
 accompany him. It was a journey of more than three hundred 
 miles, and it was necessary to perform it on foot. Yet must the 
 begum be shielded from the too curious gaze of chance passers- 
 by. So long screens of cloth were stretched on either side of the 
 carpeted road, which was made ready for the imperial pilgrims, 
 in stages of six miles, at each of which they halted for the night, 
 and these spots were thenceforward marked by the building of 
 high towers. 
 
 When at length they reached Ajmeer the saint appeared to 
 Akbar in a vision, and bade him retrace his steps to the hill of 
 Sicri, where lived Sheik Salim, a holy fakeer, exceeding old and 
 reverend, who would plead his cause with Allah. To his cell 
 Akbar betook him, and the old man promised that an heir 
 should shortly be given to his prayers. Accordingly the begum 
 took up her abode in a humble dwelling, near to the fakeer’s 
 hermitage, and in due time she became the mother of the future 
 Emperor Jehangeer. 
 
 The grateful Akbar determined to take up his abode perma¬ 
 nently within reach of the counsels of this all-prevailing saint. 
 So here he built his beautiful palace, and all his courtiers, his 
 
A CHURLISH SAINT. 
 
 155 
 
 prime minister, and other great men likewise built themselves 
 houses and palaces. They made gardens and wells, the hill was 
 crowned with a lovely white marble mosque, and its rocky 
 sides were laid out in terraces. In the plain below, a great 
 artificial lake was formed, twenty miles in circumference, and the 
 beautiful new city, which covered a circle of six miles in 
 diameter, was fortified with strong ramparts and battlements. 
 
 But, alas ! all the fuss and bustle attendant on this busy couit 
 life disturbed the devotions of the hermit of Sicri, who at 
 last would bear it no longer, and sending for the emperor in¬ 
 formed him that one of them must forthwith depart. Akbar 
 was grieved for the fate of his fair new city, but his duty was 
 clear. The aged saint must be left to pray in peace, so court and 
 courtiers, great and small, departed straightway to the banks of 
 the Jumna, and there built that glorious city of Akbarabad, the 
 modern Agra. 
 
 When the churlish fakeer died, he was buried in the centre of 
 a great cloistered quadrangle, and over his dust stands as lovely a 
 tomb as ever eastern taste devised, a tomb of pure white marble, 
 all inlaid with mother-of-pearl, gleaming with iridescent rainbow- 
 hues. Rich hangings are there, and holy books, and the whole is 
 inclosed by screens of white marble, latticed and carved like the 
 finest lace. Just beyond rises a cluster of three pure white marble 
 domes, which crown the beautiful mosque. 
 
 All this is well preserved; but beyond, you wander on through 
 endless courts, palaces, gateways, columns, tanks, which are left 
 to old Time to deal with as he pleases. You only marvel to see 
 with what gentle hand soft decay has crept on, only here and there 
 leaving her trace. Outside the great gateway, ruin has sped 
 faster, climate and rank vegetation having each done their part to 
 dislodge great stones and loosen domes and pillars. 
 
 The Elephant’s Gate w-as so called by reason of two great 
 stone images, life size, which flanked the entrance ; while a little 
 further lies the Elephant's Tower, bristling all over with tusks, 
 but whether these are genuine ivory or composition I cannot 
 tell —I imagine the latter, as so rich a store of ivory would 
 
IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 156 
 
 scarcely have escaped the hand of the spoiler. The chief gate¬ 
 way bears an Arabic inscription, which reads strangely in such 
 a place—“ Jesus has said, the world is but a bridge, over which 
 you must pass, but must not linger to build your dwelling.” 
 Doubtless these words of wisdom were imparted to Akbar by his 
 Christian wife Munee Begum, whose tomb is shown near his own 
 at Secundra. 
 
 I wonder what she thought of some of his curious amuse¬ 
 ments, such as those games at paclieesee , where he and one of 
 his ministers sat overlooking an open court paved with squares 
 of black and white marble—a giant chess-board. Each player 
 brought sixteen fair slaves to act as living pieces, and move at 
 his bidding ; four of these being draped in white, four in blue, 
 four in red, four in yellow. When a player had won the game 
 by manoeuvring his four pieces into the centre, the thirty-two 
 maidens became his lawful prize. 
 
 There were also labyrinthine passages where, in the intervals 
 of state business, the emperor disported himself in merry games 
 at Luka-Luki, hide-and-seek, with these fair damsels. The 
 most remarkable feature of this riotous sport was the total 
 absence of raiment, which seems to have been considered very 
 amusing indeed. 
 
 By the way, although this peculiarly Oriental form of chess¬ 
 playing has happily not found favour in Britain, it appears that we 
 are probably indebted to an Indian queen for the invention of the 
 very sedate garpe which is found so soothing by many of the 
 wise and thoughtful men of Europe. Its invention is generally 
 attributed to Wandodaree, the Ranee of Ravana, King of Ceylon, 
 who is said to have reigned two thousand years before the Chris¬ 
 tian era. It was to beguile her lord, during the tedious siege of 
 his capital by Rama (and although the sole object of that siege 
 was the rescue of Rama’s beautiful wife from the hands of 
 Ravana,) that this pearl of wives devised this immortal game as 
 a meet pastime for her warrior lord. Certain it is that for four 
 thousand years chess has been common throughout Hindostan, 
 whence it spread into Persia and Arabia. The Califs of the 
 
ORIGIN OF CHESS. 157 
 
 East carried it thence into Spain, whence it rapidly spread over 
 western Europe, and so found its way into Europe. 
 
 Its ancient Sanskrit name was Chaturanga, or Four Parts, and 
 the game was played by four persons, two against two. The 
 board was divided into sixty-four squares. Among the Persians 
 the name was changed to Shatranj ; Shah being, as we all know, 
 the Persian for king. The Arabic Sheik seems to have been the 
 word imported to Europe by the Moors, whence comes the term 
 check, or its German equivalent schach. The word Rook is said 
 to be derived from the Sanskrit roka, or the Persian rukh, 
 meaning a check ; 1 while Pawn is simply the word Peon, still in 
 common use for certain attendants. 
 
 I fear, however, that the begum was not the sole claimant for 
 the honour of this invention. It is said that the game was 
 common among the Egyptians of old, and that records thereof 
 have been found in hieroglyphic; their board consisted of thirty 
 black and white squares; their pieces were twelve in number, 
 made of ivory, glass, and china, carved in the forms of divers 
 animals. 
 
 The game appears again among the sculptures in the caves of 
 Beni Hassan, on the Nile, and also on the wall paintings of 
 the palace of Rameses III., where the king is shown seated 
 with a party of ladies, one of whom is his partner in the 
 game, which is played with pieces formed like pegs on a 
 chequered board. This seems to have amused some ancient 
 Egyptian wag, for there is a papyrus in the British Museum 
 wherein the King and Queen are audaciously caricatured, and 
 represented as a lion and a unicorn playing the same game. It 
 has also been found represented on divers tombs, on one of 
 which it is shown to be the engrossing occupation of calm, 
 meditative spirits in another world. Even Isis does not disdain 
 to play it with the departed kings. 
 
 Whatever may have been the popular opinion of the imperial 
 pastimes at Futteypore Sicri, there is no doubt that in working 
 hours the people had good cause to bless the name of Akbar the 
 1 Sh’ah m’at, or checkmate, means “ the king is dead.” 
 
i 5 3 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Just. We had already seen his great white marble Hall of 
 Justice. Here is one as great and beautiful, built wholly of red 
 sandstone, with clusters of pillars each marvellously carved. One 
 pillar more curious than all stands in the centre of the hall, and 
 on its broad capital was placed the great divan, where the 
 Emperor sat daily, giving audience to all comers, the meanest 
 of his subjects having free access to the Imperial Judge. From 
 the top- of this pillar four huge slabs of stone, pointing to the 
 four “airts,” typified his readiness to receive all who came to 
 him, from north, south, east, or west. In the hours set apart 
 to more private state business, he retired to a beautiful pavilion, 
 with windows of marble tracery, to exclude light and heat. 
 'These walls are exquisitely carved or inlaid with precious stones ; 
 and figures of all manner of living creatures, flowers, and fruit, 
 tell how lax a Mohammedan Akbar had become. 
 
 You know, the faith of Islam literally accepts the command to 
 make no graven image, nor the likeness of anything in heaven 
 or on earth ; it was therefore a sore offence to Mohammedans of 
 the straiter school to see that when Akbar appointed to each of 
 his wives a separate house, he permitted each to decorate her 
 home as she pleased, after the manner of her people. Conse¬ 
 quently the house of the Hindoo Begum is one mass of carving 
 in stone and marble, more exquisite than you can imagine, re¬ 
 presenting every conceivable variety of animal and plant. The 
 flowers and fruit are so life like that you could almost pluck 
 them; only you perceive with dismay that each figure is muti¬ 
 lated. A head, a foot, a horn is always missing; and as you 
 marvel what ruthless Goth has here left the trace of his bar¬ 
 barous hand, you learn that the son who succeeded to the 
 throne of the great, wise Akbar worked this ravage, and, to 
 prove his zeal for the law, went hammer in hand to deface all 
 the carved imagery which too closely resembled the forms of 
 nature. 
 
 The least ornate of all these buildings is the house of the 
 Christian wife ; I believe she was a Portuguese. Her taste in 
 decoration was certainly not remarkable. As to the house of 
 
DESERTED. 
 
 159 
 
 the prime minister, it is so covered with exquisite sculpture 
 that from the ceiling to the floor not one inch of plain stone is 
 visible. It is all worked out in the most refined patterns— 
 diaper, and such fine, intricate work as we occasionally see in 
 infinitesimal quantity about the east end of our churches. 
 
 And all this beauty is literally wasted on the desert air. 
 Year after year the warm mellow sunlight pours its radiance on 
 all this loveliness, but no human being is there to take delight 
 in it. Wild creatures of all sorts—leopards, sometimes tigers— 
 crouch in the rank jungle on the hill side, or make their lair in 
 the cool, underground chambers. On the neglected terraces flocks 
 of wild peacocks bask undisturbed ; birds of plumage far more 
 radiant than those which sweep so proudly over our English 
 lawns ; the Indian peacock, like the jay, gleams with a metallic 
 lustre peculiar to itself, and flashes through the air like a living 
 prism. So there these beautiful birds find a congenial home, and 
 are well in keeping with those stately palaces. The inevitable 
 green parrots are there in thousands, and many a strange and 
 beautiful creature besides. 
 
 We collected a great bundle of porcupine quills from below 
 Akbar’s judgment-seat, and brought them away as suggestive 
 memorials of the mighty emperor. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WAVES OF FAITH ON THE SEA OF TIME. 
 
 The Hindoo Cities of Muttra and Bindrabund—Once Buddhist—The Jains— 
 Worship of Krishna—The Aboriginal Hill Tribes—The Rig Veda—A 
 Sketch of the Successive Faiths which have prevailed in Hindoostan— 
 Aboriginal—Pure Aryan—These together producing Brahmanism—Origin 
 of Caste—The Holy Food—Ancestor Worship—Buddhism—The Stone 
 Edicts of Asoka—Degenerate Brahmanism—Mohammedanism—Now 
 toleration of all—Religious Census. 
 
 Before passing on to Delhi, which like Agra, is one of the 
 mighty strongholds of Mohammedanism, you must turn aside to 
 see the twin cities of Muttra and Bindrabund —cities of about 
 20,000 inhabitants, and lying only six miles apart— both of which 
 are crowded with fine specimens of native architecture, beautiful 
 bathing-ghauts of red sandstone, and innumerable temples, both 
 ancient and modern, of most intricate design, rising everywhere 
 along the banks of the blue Jumna. Most of these are massive 
 piles of red sandstone, but Bindrabund owns one, especially 
 beautiful, of white marble, with noble monolithic pillars and 
 many statues, which are the favourite seats of the monkeys. 
 There is no evidence here of any falling away of Hindoo devotion, 
 judging from the numbers of handsome new temples recently 
 built by wealthy merchants and rajahs of neighbouring states. 
 One of these is said to have cost a sum equal to about ^200,000, 
 while on another ^500,000 was. expended. Moreover the annual 
 offerings made by pilgrims, and the sums expended on religious 
 
BUDDHIST MONASTERIES. 
 
 161 
 
 services at these two temples are said to be enormous. These 
 cities gain interest from the fact that they have been the favourite 
 battlefields of every successive faith that has arisen in this 
 land. At the present moment they are purely Hindoo, or 
 more properly speaking, Brahmanical. 
 
 Yet they were once centres of Buddhism, that strange dreamy 
 faith, which (born in this land four hundred years before the 
 Christian era) prevailed in India for twelve hundred years, then 
 passed away into other lands, while every trace of its existence 
 here was so diligently removed by the re-conquering Brahmans 
 that we can now only guess where its great temples and convents 
 once stood; feeling for its dim traces as in Britain we search 
 wonderingly for hints of the old Druidic faith of our fathers. 
 
 It is known that at Muttra there were once twenty great 
 Buddhist convents, where three thousand monks lived their 
 strange contemplative lives. 1 There were temples innumerable, 
 containing colossal statues of Buddha, in brass or stone. There 
 
 1 Monasticism seems always to have found large favour with the Buddhists. 
 In 250 B.c. we find the Emperor Asoka supporting 64,000 holy brothers, and 
 six hundred years later, the Chinese pilgrim Hiouen Thsang found in Cash- 
 mere five thousand monks, scattered over five hundred monasteries. But when 
 he reached the city of Kanauj, on the Ganges, he there found a hundred 
 flourishing Buddhist monasteries, with ten thousand monks, side by side with 
 two hundred Brahman temples. 
 
 At Nalanda, near the sacred city of Gaya, he found an immense monastery, 
 which was practically a university, as it was the school of science, law, 
 medicine, and philosophy, as well as the theological college where ten thousand 
 monks and novices studied and worshipped. 
 
 Nalanda was one of the chief schools of the very advanced medical science 
 of ancient Buddhist India ; a science whose remarkable development calls 
 forth the wonder and admiration of modern European physicians. Indeed 
 these have adopted many remedies and drugs first discovered by celebrated 
 Indian physicians, whose treatises in Old Sanskrit, were, in the eighth century, 
 translated into Arabic by order of the Caliphs of Bagdad, and thence passed 
 into Europe. Their boldness and dexterous skill in difficult surgical opera¬ 
 tions, is especially noted, and is attributed by modern surgeons to the facilities 
 for continuous study afforded by the great public hospitals, established in 
 every city by the merciful Buddhist emperors. 
 
 With the fall of Buddhism commenced the degeneracy of Indian medical 
 science. 
 
 M 
 
i 62 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 were seven great towers where lamps burnt day and night above 
 the relics of Buddha and other saints—you know Buddha was not 
 a god, only a saintly man, the ideal of what any man may become ; 
 and the veneration of his memory, kept up by treasuring his 
 statues, his teeth, and the marks of his footsteps, is intended to 
 be simply commemorative, and by no means savouring of 
 worship, at least, not among the educated. 
 
 Such a faith was not one likely long to satisfy the cravings of 
 the human heart, so after a while, the sect of Jains sprang up and 
 seems to have become very powerful in these cities. Their faith 
 seems to have first taken form in the worship of the twenty-four 
 Jins, who are saints or spirits, whence developed a gradual 
 reaction from Buddhism towards the old worship of Brahma. 
 Their creeds seem very nearly akin, only the Jains bring the 
 doctrine of transmigration more prominently forward; conse¬ 
 quently their tenderness of animal life is proverbial. So fully 
 are they persuaded that 
 
 “He prayeth best who loveth best 
 All things both great and small,” 
 
 that they refuse to crush the snake, scorpion, or other venomous 
 creature which has bitten them, nay, more, will even remove 
 vermin of the viler sorts from their raiment with reverent- 
 tenderness ! In fact they herein rival that holy Christian St. 
 Macaire, of whom it has been recorded that, having one day 
 been guilty of crushing a louse, he condemned himself to seven 
 years of penance, amid the thorns and briars of a dark and 
 dismal forest. 
 
 It is said that the Jains even object to lighting a lamp during 
 the rains, when insects abound, lest moths and beetles should 
 thereby be attracted to their death. They found hospitals for 
 mangy pariah dogs, diseased cattle, cats, goats, monkeys, and all 
 manner of beasts and insects, no matter how foul and noxious. 
 Such a one you may see at Bombay, in which presidency the Jain 
 faith is most common. 
 
 A good Jain dares not sit down till he has swept the place with 
 
THE JAINS. 
 
 163 
 
 a brush, which he carries for this purpose, in order to warn off 
 any tiny creature wherein is the breath of life. He wears a thin 
 cloth over his mouth to prevent insects from flying into danger, 
 he must strain water thrice ere he may drink, not for his own sake, 
 but for that of the possible insects, and he must be careful to 
 leave no liquid uncovered which might tempt them to suicide! 
 
 Just imagine the consternation caused among a people who 
 hold the extinction of life to be a crime, when first they beheld 
 the wonders of the microscope, and realised the inevitable 
 consumption of insects and animalcules in their daily food! 
 The first priest who saw one, offered all his fortune to buy it, 
 and on receiving it as a present, he crushed it to atoms to 
 prevent his friends being made as miserable in their perplexity 
 as he himself had become. Then he besought the giver to 
 import no more such instruments of knowledge and torment! 
 
 I believe all the Mahrattas are of this persuasion. Yet so far 
 from extending their mercy to their fellow-men, their cruelty has 
 always been such that, whenever they invaded the neighbouring 
 states, it was said that the people would flee into the jungle to 
 the more gentle companionship of tigers and hytenas ! 
 
 The Jains have left a very distinctive mark in the form of many 
 stupendous rock temples in various parts of India, rivalling 
 if not excelling the florid rock sculptures of the Brahmans. 1 
 The marvellous rock caves of Ellora represent the successive 
 supremacy of the three great faiths of India. First a group of 
 Buddhist caves excavated about a.d. 800, then a series of 
 Hindoo caves of the ninth and tenth centuries, and finally a 
 group of Jain, dating as late as a.d. 1200. 
 
 After the Jains had had their little day, Brahmanism undiluted 
 once more triumphed, and Muttra, from its position on the sacred 
 Jumna came to be esteemed well-nigh as holy as Benares on the 
 Ganges. But whereas the latter is especially sacred to Siva, these 
 twin cities are wholly given over to the worship of Krishna, the 
 
 1 Mr. Fergusson calculates that out of about 1,000 rock temples scattered 
 all over India nine-tenths are Buddhist, while the remainder are partly Jain 
 and partly Brahmanical. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 darling of women (the eighth incarnation of Vishnu), to whom 
 the bathing-ghauts and the magnificent red sandstone temples are 
 all sacred. Their polished marble pillars, richly-carved capitals, 
 and intricate sculptures, were doubtless of Buddhist origin, and 
 simply adapted to the rival creed. 
 
 When the Brahmans, having regained the ascendency, destroyed 
 the beautiful temples of their predecessors, they used them as 
 quarries to supply materials for their own. Siva has but one 
 temple here, but the fame of Krishna draws vast multitudes of 
 pilgrims, more especially in November, when there is a great fair 
 in honour of his birth. The temples are literally numberless. 
 In olden times they were possessed of vast wealth. One had 
 five golden idols whose eyes were of rubies. Another had a 
 golden image of Krishna which weighed upwards of a thousand 
 pounds, and was adorned with one sapphire which weighed three 
 and a-half pounds. In the same temple there were upwards of a 
 hundred large silver idols. 
 
 The majority of these temples were sacked by the Afifghans 
 under the Mohammedan Sultan Mahmoud of Ghuznee, who 
 carried off one hundred camel-loads of their precious treasures. 
 His intention had been to demolish all the idolatrous temples, as 
 he had already done at Delhi, and the magnificent city of 
 Kanouje; but he was so dazzled by their exceeding grandeur 
 that he spared them, and their final destruction was reserved 
 for the bigotry of Aurungzebe. He even took with him Hindoo 
 masons who might build him temples as beautiful at Ghuznee, 
 where accordingly, a mosque of red sandstone and marble was 
 built, and adorned with rich ornaments, so that the fame of its 
 beauty earned for it the title of “ the Celestial Bride.” Mosques 
 and palaces were multiplied, and the Hindoo captives transformed 
 Ghuznee from a mere village into a city noted for its beauty- 
 So magnificent were Mahmoud’s spoils from this and many 
 another raid, that he was at a loss how to dispose of his treasures, 
 though his hunting equipage alone was so gorgeous that each of 
 his four hundred greyhounds and bloodhounds had a collar set 
 with precious jewels, and their coats (such as are worn by all 
 
A MOHAMMEDAN CONQUEROR. 165 
 
 domestic animials in India) were edged with gold, pearls, and 
 other gems torn from the throats and arms of his captives. 
 
 Amongst the Hindoo temples destroyed by him was one which 
 had been built on the site of a famous Buddhist monastery. On 
 the same site, the Mohammedans afterwards built a grand mosque 
 which, though now disused, still holds its ground. The Affghans 
 were not content with destroying the greater part of both cities, 
 but also carried away the people as prisoners. In this one raid 
 they are said to have taken fifty-three thousand captives; and so 
 drugged the market, that the unhappy slaves were scarcely worth 
 five shillings a head ! They also slew cattle in all the temples, 
 which, in the eyes of the Hindoos, was probably the worst evil of 
 all. The town is now once more full of busy life, and is chiefly 
 peopled by Brahmans of the highest caste, whose noble birth, 
 however, does not make their clamour for backsheesh less 
 maddening, especially as their importunity only increases with 
 the supply. 
 
 As I before observed, these cities are especially sacred to 
 Krishna, alias Vishnu, alias Hari, the Sun-god, the second person 
 of the Trimurti, i.e. the Hindoo Trinity; Brahma the Supreme 
 being worshipped in the three characters of Brahma the Creator, 
 Vishnu the Preserver, and Siva the Destroyer. One of the finest 
 sculptures in the great rock temple of Elephanta is a cyclopean 
 image of this tri-une god. 
 
 Vishnu is essentially an object of personal love and devotion— 
 a personal god who has ever taken the deepest interest in the 
 welfare of mankind, having in two principal incarnations assumed 
 human nature, first as Rama, then as Krishna. Both of these 
 were princely heroes, of the highest earthly birth, but Krishna 
 deigned to spend his infancy and youth among peasants. The 
 nature of Vishnu being both male and female, his feminine half— 
 Lakshmi, the beautiful goddess of good fortune—also became 
 incarnate, as Sita the goddess-bride of Rama, and as Radha the 
 wife of Krishna. 
 
 Vishnu is worshipped under names and forms innumerable, 
 representing his various incarnations. Of these, the principal arc 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 1 66 
 
 those ten avatars, or births, when he has appeared on earth, i. 
 as a Fish ; 2. as a Tortoise ; 3. as a Boar ; 4. as a Lion ; (in these 
 four characters the upper half of the body is human, though en¬ 
 dowed with an extra pair of arms.) 5. as a Dwarf; 6. as Parasu- 
 rama, a Brahman who put down the arrogant Kshatriya or 
 military caste ; 7. as Rama who belonged to the said caste, being a 
 son of the King of Oude ; 8. as Krishna, whose special mission 
 was to destroy the tyrant Kansa, who represented the Incarnation 
 of evil; 9. as Budh; 10. as Kalkee, the Deliverer inhuman form, 
 seated on a white horse. His ninth appearance as Budh is 
 probably a judicious adaptation by the Brahmans of the wisdom of 
 Gautama Buddha, though his followers have found small mercy at 
 their hands. 
 
 As to the tenth avatar, it has not yet been accomplished, so the 
 faithful await the return of Vishnu at the end of the Kali-yug, that 
 is, the end of the present cycle of time wherein the powers of 
 darkness have so entirely gained the ascendant, that all creation is 
 said to be groaning in pain under the burden of iniquity. Vishnu 
 on his reappearance is to sweep away all evil by the destruction 
 of the visible world. He is to descend from heaven carrying a 
 flaming sword, and attended by a comet, and will be mounted on 
 a great white horse which will stamp with its right fore-foot as the 
 sign that the end of the world is at hand. 
 
 Meanwhile the worshippers of Vishnu chiefly adore him as 
 Krishna, the joyous and beautiful, who in one of these twin cities 
 was miraculously born as the son of a cowherd; an incarnation 
 which the Vedas date 1,300 years before the story of the manger 
 of Bethlehem, though there are points of similarity which might 
 lead us to think that Krishna’s historian had borrowed some hints 
 from Judaea, such as the story of how the life of the baby-god was 
 vainly threatened by the tyrant Kansa, but preserved by his loyal 
 foster-father, the herdsman. 
 
 Of course the neighbourhood is full of legends of this wonder¬ 
 ful infant. How, at the sound of his flute, stones and trees 
 became animated; how he sang to the milkmaids and wood- 
 nymphs ; how he cursed a patch of ground which has remained 
 
KRISHNA’S BATTLE WITH THE SERPENT. 
 
 167 
 
 barren to this day ; and how he was wont to stand on a certain 
 hill to heal the people who thronged round him, and made them 
 whole, whether their disease was bodily or mental. He taught 
 the people that he himself was at once their creator, their refuge 
 and their friend ; their sacrifice, and the road of the good ; their 
 counsellor and their teacher; and that they who knew and trusted 
 in him also knew and trusted in Brahma the Supreme. 
 
 But mixed up with words that sound like a foreshadowing of 
 the Messiah’s message are grotesque mythological stories, such as 
 the Oriental mind rejoices in. Many a romantic tale is told of 
 Krishna’s adventures, more especially of his merry games with the 
 pretty milkmaids of those pastoral districts, who tended their 
 flocks beside the river. One of their favourite amusements was a 
 circular sun-wise dance called the Ras Mandala, in which the 
 dancers twisted and turned and wheeled round about, in sup¬ 
 posed imitation of the course of the sun, moon, and planets, 
 a very pretty homage to the true character of Krishna as the 
 Sun-god. 
 
 The chief delight of this cheery god was to watch when the girls 
 came to bathe, and stealing their clothes, hang them all over the 
 branches of a great tree; then climbing to a convenient position 
 he would sit calmly waiting till the damsels (with no other drapery 
 than their own raven tresses) came to supplicate for their garments ! 
 The identical tree is still pointed out, and pilgrims hang linen 
 rags on its branches, as votive offerings, in memory of this god¬ 
 like action. 
 
 Sometimes, however, Krishna was more helpful to these 
 maidens, and one bathing-ghaut at Bindrabund marks the spot 
 where after a terrible conflict, he strangled the huge black water- 
 serpent Kaliya, which had poisoned the sacred river, so that the 
 kine which drank thereof died. Hence Krishna is constantly 
 represented as a young, handsome lad, glad and triumphant, 
 holding up the great serpent whose head he crushes beneath his 
 foot, not, however, till the reptile had bitten his heel. In the 
 similarity of this legend to those of Egypt and Greece, which 
 told how Horus and Apollo slew the mighty serpents which had 
 
168 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 terrified their respective mothers, as well as various other mytho¬ 
 logical stories both of east and west, which tell how some great 
 deliverer has arisen to bruise the serpent’s head, there must surely 
 be some lingering tradition of the curse on that old serpent who 
 haunted the beautiful garden in earth’s early days. Certainly 
 many such legends are mixed up in these ancient Indian 
 creeds. 
 
 The heaven promised to his followers is a vast golden city. Of 
 the multitude of halls, mansions, and palaces contained therein 
 there is no end. The arches, the pillars, the ornaments, are all 
 built up of most precious stones, and radiant gems glitter in the 
 emerald streets. Rivers of crystal flow through the city, and 
 broad beautiful lakes are overshadowed by fair fruit-bearing trees. 
 These lakes are covered with water-lilies, red, blue, and white, 
 each blossom having a thousand petals ; and on the most beautiful 
 of all these calm lakes floats a throne, glorious as the sun, whereon 
 Krishna the beautiful reposes. 
 
 These lovely water-lilies hold a conspicuous place in all Oriental 
 dreams of heaven. As Buddha sits enthroned on the Lotus, so 
 Great Brahma himself was revealed at the creation of the world 
 cradled in a lotus blossom. So too was the goddess Lakshmi, 
 the wife of Vishnu, though some say she rose from ocean with a 
 lotus blossom in her hand. 
 
 Bindrabund has passed through the same changes as the sister 
 city, and is now one picturesque mass of red sandstone temples 
 and ghauts, rising from the banks of the Jumna, and shaded by the 
 overhanging foliage of banyan and neeme trees. On every side, 
 rich carving, costly shrines, images, flowers; all the strangely 
 picturesque ingredients of such a scene; life, motion, form, colour, 
 all thoroughly Oriental, scarcely a day passing without some festival 
 which attracts multitudes, decked out in their best, and no matter 
 how poor the material their colouring is always in good taste. 
 In short, these cities are to the Jumna what Benares and Hurdwar 
 are to the Ganges. 
 
 Moreover they are equally infested by monkeys, which are 
 literally the pest of the city. In the shady, luxurious gardens 
 
SUCCESSIVE WAVES OF FAITH. 
 
 169 
 
 fifty or more will take possession of one tree, and hold a monkey 
 parliament; thence descending on the fruit trees, will help them¬ 
 selves to the ripest and best fruits. Each window has a latticed 
 framework, which has to be kept constantly closed to prevent 
 their entering the houses and pilfering. Nevertheless they con¬ 
 stantly do get in, and carry off whatever they fancy. 
 
 In this city of Krishna one eyesore to his worshippers still 
 remains, namely, a magnificent Jain temple of red sandstone, with 
 a huge pyramidal gateway. Its courts, cloisters, and pillars 
 are literally without number, and the richness of its sculptures 
 beyond telling. On some of the great festivals all this is 
 illuminated, and the effect is described as most imposing. And 
 yet, so repeatedly has northern India been ravaged by successive 
 conquerors of diverse creeds, each of whom has ruthlessly destroyed 
 the finest ancient temples, that absolutely none remains in the 
 north which can compare in grandeur with those still to be seen 
 in southern India, where they escaped the shocks of war. 
 
 There are perhaps few places in India, save Benares and 
 Sarmath, where all these successive waves of diverse faiths have 
 swept so mightily over the land as the spot where we now 
 stand. 
 
 In very remote times the whole of Hindoostan seems to have 
 been peopled by innumerable tribes, very dark in colour, and in 
 the lowest scale of civilisation, each having its own especial 
 mythology—if indeed the worship of snakes, apes, and devils can 
 be so called. Somewhere about 1700 b.c. (while the Patriarchs 
 still fed their flocks on the Syrian plains, and when Joseph was 
 saving the land of Egypt from famine) the mighty Aryans, with 
 the fair skin and the rich musical speech, are supposed to have 
 swept down from central Asia and taken possession of the land, 
 wholly subduing these feebler tribes, and reducing them at once to 
 the rank of slaves, hewers of wood, and drawers of water. 
 Only such as fled to the deep forests and inaccessible hills escaped 
 this fate, and there remain unto this day as lawless, independent 
 hill-tribes, noted as hardy warriors and keen sportsmen. 
 
 I think we, in England, scarcely realise the multitude of 
 
170 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 these hill-tribes ; and the consequent diversity of their languages. 
 We have a sort of impression that the country is peopled with 
 Hindoos, and imagine that one language with slight variations 
 is current amongst them all. Or perhaps we may know that there 
 are several great divisions of the people. But of the multitude of 
 non-Aryan tongues we certainly have a very small conception. 
 How many of us realise that there are fully two hundred 
 aboriginal tongues in India, each unintelligible to all the others ? 
 In one single district near Assam twenty-eight distinct dialects 
 have been counted, not one of which is understood by its neigh¬ 
 bours. 
 
 Sometimes the course of a river is a boundary sufficient to 
 separate these, a fact which will scarcely seem strange to a Scotch¬ 
 man, who recollects the strongly-marked line of demarcation 
 between the Gaelic and English population of some of our own 
 villages and towns—Nairn for instance, which still verifies an old 
 joke of James VI., namely, that he owned one town so great, that 
 the inhabitants of one end could not understand the language 
 that was spoken at the other end ! 
 
 As to the variety of speech among these aboriginal tribes, 
 it may more easily be realised when we recollect that they still 
 number upwards of six million souls. 
 
 It has been no easy task for the ruling power to modify and 
 adapt the details of Government so as to suit the special need of 
 all these primitive races, each wedded to its own distinctive 
 customs, which include every conceivable variety of social, 
 domestic, and religious life. There are tribes, such as the Nairs of 
 south-western India, and others in the far north, whose social 
 framework is all based on the practice of polyandry, while others 
 rival the Koolin Brahmins in the multiplicity of their wives. 
 There are tribes who live in grasshuts in the depths of the forest, 
 clothed only with tufts of leaves, and have no weapons save bows 
 and arrows, the latter being till very recently pointed with flint. 
 Some file the front teeth of their women as a marriage ceremony 
 (some degrees more unpleasant than the Japanese tooth-blacken¬ 
 ing) ! Others have interesting funeral customs, such as those of 
 
VARIETIES OF TRIBAL CUSTOMS. 
 
 171 
 
 the Goands in central India, who, believing that they were created 
 at the foot of Dewalagiri peak in the Himalayas, worship “the 
 great mountain ” as their chief god, and have for ages buried their 
 dead with their feet towards the north, ready to arise and return 
 to the land of their forefathers. 
 
 Of course the prevalent ideas of worship are chiefly forms of 
 propitiating demons, but the strange creeds of these wild men are 
 just as diverse as their tongues, and amongst them still linger traces 
 of those cruel old superstitions which the British have striven so hard 
 to put down, and which have well-nigh vanished from all districts 
 accessible to ordinary mortals. Only in the depths of these wild 
 hill jungles do we still occasionally hear of some of the old practices 
 of dark cruelty. One of these tribes, the Kookes (inhabiting 
 the forests near Chittagong, about a hundred and fifty miles from 
 Calcutta, and dwelling chiefly like monkeys, in huts erected in the 
 uppermost branches of trees), were, till late years, notorious 
 cannibals, catching and eating whoever they could lay hands on ; 
 while the Goands, in the hill country near Nagpore, had solemn 
 religious feasts when they ate the flesh of such human victims 
 as they sacrificed to their demons. 
 
 But the most horrible of all human sacrifices were those offered 
 by the Khonds in Orissa, a tribe whose women are much tattooed 
 on the face and who wear no clothes above the waist. The 
 offering was made to their earth-goddess to secure a favourable 
 harvest. In order that the sacrifice should be acceptable, it was 
 necessary that the victim should have been purchased, so that the 
 tribe should thus offer their own property and be free from the 
 guilt of murder. So they bought their “ meriahs,” as they called 
 their victims, from a race of professional kidnappers, who captured 
 them wherever they could; they were generally Hindoos from the 
 plains. A well-to-do village kept a stock of meriahs always 
 on hand, ready for any sudden requirement of sacrifice. They 
 were kindly treated and well fed, till the fatal hour arrived, when 
 he or she was pitilessly put to death, while the tribe shouted “ We 
 have bought you with a price, we are guiltless of your death.” 
 
 In the month of January each village held its great annual 
 
1/2 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 festival when the people assembled, some clad in bear skins, some 
 adorned with peacock’s feathers, and several days were devoted to 
 wild revelry. During this period the wretched victim was fed 
 with milk and ghee, and reverenced as being in a manner sacred. 
 But on the awful day of sacrifice, he was bound to an upright 
 post, and the savage crowd, armed with sharp knives, pressed 
 forward to cut off small strips of his flesh, with which they 
 rushed off, every man to his own field, where they squeezed the 
 warm blood upon the soil, and burying the fragment of flesh 
 secured the fertility of the land. Thus the miserable victim 
 endured the unutterable torture of being hacked into small pieces, 
 and the height of devilish ingenuity was to prolong this dreadful 
 anguish by never touching a vital part, for should death occur 
 before the blood was dropped on the field the virtue of the 
 charm would be annulled. 
 
 When all available parts had thus been used, the remainder was 
 burnt, and the ashes mixed with the grain ere it was sown. This, 
 till very recent years, was the only approved method of fertilising 
 the land. 
 
 When the district of Khondistan came under British rule, and 
 human sacrifice was declared to be a capital offence, and the 
 chiefs were admonished to offer only buffaloes and goats; having 
 no alternative but obedience, they formally apologised to the 
 goddess, entreating her not to be angry with them for bringing her 
 blood of beasts instead of human blood, but to wreak her 
 vengeance on the white chief, who was well able to bear it. 
 
 But, of course, they continued to endeavour to evade the law, so 
 an agency for suppressing human sacrifices in Orissa was established, 
 and in the course of about twenty years no less than seventeen 
 hundred me 7 -iahs were rescued from sacrifice. Of these, about 
 250 were placed in the asylums of the Orissa mission, where some 
 embraced Christianity, and one of those who was earliest rescued 
 has for upwards of five-and-twenty years been working as a 
 devoted missionary among his people. 
 
 These Khonds, like the Santals, have now become a peaceful 
 and orderly tribe, but some have necessarily died out before the 
 
ORIGIN OF THE BRAHMANS. 
 
 I 73 
 
 advance of civilised law. Such were the Thugs, whose ruling 
 principle of life and worship was strangling inoffensive travellers, 
 an aimiable propensity which it was necessary to check; so the 
 great organised robber-gangs known as the Dacoits and Thugs 
 were broken up with a strong hand, and the last batch of Thugs 
 have died out one by one in a sort of honourable captivity, 
 regarded as interesting survivals of a vanished era. 
 
 Whereas debasing superstitions such as these, seem to 
 have been the indigenous growth of Hindoostan, the Aryans 
 brought with them a noble faith, probably much the same 
 as their Druidical brethren taught in Britain; and, just as 
 these deemed it impious to commit their creed to writing (so that 
 Ossian’s dreamy Gaelic legends are now our oldest link to 
 the forgotten past), so did these Aryans of the east bring with 
 them grand poems, psalms of victory, and prayers for deliver¬ 
 ance, which for many centuries were orally transmitted from 
 generation to generation ; but as they were numerous, and all 
 men are not endowed with good memories, it followed almost 
 naturally that some men became the special repositories of ancient 
 lore, and of the sacred poems and sacrificial hymns and liturgies. 
 It became customary to call these in, to officiate at the great tribal 
 sacrifices, and as the all-prevailing prayer was known as “ brahma ” 
 the man who offered it naturally came to be called Brahman. 
 
 Gradually the profession became hereditary, and hence sprang 
 the tender sapling which has developed into such a mighty tree, 
 overshadowing the whole land. Very soon the men of intellect 
 asserted their sway, and became the great ruling power of the 
 empire, and well have they retained their position through all 
 outward changes of faith and of dynasty. 
 
 In course of time they committed to writing, in the ancient 
 Sanskrit tongue, a collection of 1017 short poems, containing 
 10,580 verses, which they and their descendants at the present day 
 declare to be directly inspired by the Almighty. These form the 
 celebrated Rig-Veda, each line of which is now interpreted as bearing 
 deep and complex meaning ; while its strong, nervous words and 
 subtle thought afford food for much study to our most learned men. 
 
174 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The date and authorship of the Rig-Veda are questions as 
 utterly vague and unanswerable as are those of the Book of Job. 
 Though generally estimated at from 3,000 to 4,000 years back, 
 both are lost in the mists of bygone ages. Only by a retrogressive 
 process can we arrive at any sort of conclusion concerning the 
 antiquity of these strange, beautiful poems ; by recollecting that 
 about four hundred years before Christ, the great Buddhist re¬ 
 action against Brahmanism commenced ; and that the degenerate 
 form of faith, against which Buddha protested, had been established 
 in India from time immemorial; being embodied in the Brah- 
 manas, whose authority and antiquity were alike unquestionable. 
 These Brahmanas are full of allusions to the Rig-Veda, as to a 
 well-known authority, from whose pure and beautiful teaching they 
 had, however, already departed so widely as would seem to have 
 involved centuries of slow estrangement. 
 
 For instance, so far from authorising any species of idolatry, 
 these sacred writings declare in the clearest terms that there is 
 but one Supreme God, of whom Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, in 
 their several capacities, are but divers manifestations, co-eternal 
 and co-equal. In some verses indeed, Vishnu appears merely as 
 one of the Adityas, which were twelve characters of the Sun, 
 answering to the twelve signs of the Zodiac. 
 
 Moreover in these grand old hymns, that intense belief in im¬ 
 mortality, which has always so strongly marked the Aryan races, 
 was never blended with those childish theories of transmigration 
 which form so marked a feature in the teaching of the Brahmanas. 
 That these must have crept in early, that is to say, before the great 
 Aryan wave parted eastward and westward, is evident from the 
 traces thereof which we find in the old Celtic faith. (I have 
 elsewhere noticed the curious fact that the Celts would even lend 
 money, on the promise of repayment in the next phase of 
 terrestrial existence !)' 
 
 Yet while the earlier Vedas contain no allusion whatever to the 
 doctrine of transmigration, they are full of the promise of a future 
 life. They tell how Yama, The Lord of Death, was monarch of 
 1 In the Hebrides, p. 267. Chatto & Windus. 
 
OLD SANSKRIT HYMNS. 
 
 175 
 
 this world till sin entered, and then came sorrow, disease, and 
 death ; but Yama, passing through “ the grave and gate of death ” 
 into the land of immortality, obtained a kingdom for himself, and 
 is now continually seeking to guide men thither. He is worshipped 
 as “ the assembler of men, who departed to the mighty waters ; who 
 spied out a road for many.'' 
 
 Hence the dead is adjured to clothe himself in “a shining form, 
 a new and glorious body, that he may meet the Lord of Death 
 with the ancient ones, who, through meditation, through laying 
 down their lives for others, and bestowing their goods on the poor, 
 have obtained the victory, and gone to heaven.” “ Go to thy 
 hpme; may thy soul go to its own, and hasten to the fathers.” 
 “ Do thou, O Lord, conduct us to heaven; let us be with our 
 wives and children.” “ In heaven, where our friends dwell in 
 bliss, free from all infirmity, there let us behold our parents and 
 children.” • “ Place me, O Pure One, in the everlasting and un¬ 
 changing world where light and glory are found. Make me 
 immortal in the world in which joys, delights, and happiness 
 abide j where the desire's are obtained.” 
 
 The life described in those old hymns was hearty, earnest, and 
 practical; not the melancholy, listless state of existence engendered 
 by unreasoning faith in childish fables, and a continual straining 
 after a life of unnatural contemplation and dreamy mysticism. 
 
 The most strongly-marked superiority of the Rig-Veda lies in 
 its monotheistic teaching. Certainly it personifies all the powers 
 of nature, earth, sea, and sky ; stormy wind and tempest, mists and 
 vapours, sun, moon, and stars; fire and frost, light and darkness, 
 and speaks of them as of Spirits and Shining Ones. 
 
 Thus the sun is addressed as Surya, Savitri, Mitra, and 
 Aryaman, in his various phases of rising and setting, just as the 
 early Greeks bestowed divers poetical names on the same natural 
 phenomena; while their descendants, losing the clue to the old 
 poems, recognised Daphne, the dawn, and Endymion, the setting 
 sun, as beings wholly distinct from Cephalus and Phoebus, and 
 evolved strange fables from names which, in the mouths of their 
 fathers, were probably merely graceful phraseology. 
 
176 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Just as in the old Gaelic poems of Ossian, so in these Sanskrit 
 hymns (the phraseology of each being as strangely akin as are the 
 tongues in which they are recorded), there is the same blending 
 of the mysterious powers of the beautiful material world, with 
 aspirations after things spiritual and imaginative. Beautiful as are 
 the songs of the wild storm-gods, of the raving tempests, or the 
 dreamy spirits of the mist, yet to One Supreme Creator do all these 
 bow and obey. “ Mountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all 
 cedars, dragons and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and vapour, 
 stormy winds,” are all shown to be alike fulfilling His word. 
 
 But inasmuch as no one title could describe the infinite 
 attributes of God (even the Mohammedans invoking Him by 
 ninety-nine divers titles), these old hymns devised different names 
 for His different characters. Hence He is addressed as Indra, 
 the Giver of Rain and Lord of the Firmament, who has the winds 
 for His messengers, and is said to smite the rain-cloud Vitra, and 
 to send down freshening showers upon the earth. “ Slayer of Vitra, 
 ascend thy chariot, for thy horses have been yoked by prayer.” 
 
 As Lord of Fire, He is adored as Agni, under which title He 
 watches over the hearth. Hence the Aryans held the presence of 
 fire indispensable at their marriage ceremonies; indeed, the 
 presence of fire as a divine witness was in some cases deemed a 
 sufficient ceremony ! 
 
 Under the title Varuna, God is worshipped as Lord of the 
 Ocean, of the Sun, of the Day. “ Whatever two persons sitting 
 together devise, Varuna, the king, knows it as the third. This 
 earth, too, is Varuna, the king’s, and that vast sky whose ends are 
 far off. King Varuna sees all—what is within and beyond heaven 
 and earth; the winkings of men’s eyes are all numbered by Him.” 
 “ He who knows the place of the birds that fly through the sky, 
 who perceives what has been, and what will be done : He who 
 knows the track of the wind .... may He make our paths 
 straight all our days ; may He prolong our lives.” 
 
 “Yearning for Him, the far-seeing, my thoughts move onwards 
 as kine to their pastures. O hear this, my calling, Varuna ; be 
 gracious now. Longing for help, I have called upon Thee. Hear 
 
AMALGAMATION OF FAITHS. 
 
 1 77 
 
 my calling, O Varuna, and bless me now. Without Thee, O 
 Varuna, I am not the master even of the twinkling of an eye. Do 
 not deliver us unto death, though we have offended against Thy 
 commandment day by day. Accept our sacrifice, forgive our 
 offences. Let ns speak together again like old friends 
 
 Strangely similar (is this not ?) to what our own Scriptures have 
 taught us of a Christian’s “fellowship” with his God ; communing 
 with his Lord “ as a man talketh with his friend.” Such was the 
 beautiful faith of these ancient races, who, so far from ac¬ 
 knowledging caste and Brahmanical priesthood, “ held that God 
 had made all men equal, and that He was to be worshipped by no 
 priestly formulas; ” who, consequently, had no temples for public 
 worship, but built altars under the open heaven, or beneath some 
 stately tree, and offered sacrifices, every man for his own family. 
 
 It may well seem strange that a faith so simple could ever have 
 developed into such a tissue of complex absurdity as the modern 
 system of Hindooism. The solution lies in the fact that the nation 
 itself is composed of a multitude of amalgamated races, and as with 
 the people, so with their creeds, Hindooism has gradually absorbed 
 the distinctive features of each. 
 
 Departing from the purity .of their old faith, the conquerors 
 tolerated every species of grossly idolatrous practice of the nations 
 whose lands they conquered. Thus the flood-gates were opened 
 to the wild orgies of devil-worship, snake-worship, adoration of the 
 planets, trees, rocks and streams, and all grosser forms of nature- 
 worship, with every species of aboriginal fetishism. While these 
 were sanctioned for the vulgar herd, intellectual dreamers devoted 
 their lives to meditation on the sacred writings of their ancestors, 
 seeking to elicit hidden meanings in every line, and so, little by 
 little, they contrived to evolve a whole mythology, concerning 
 which they wrangled and quarrelled, and split into countless sects 
 with elaborate rituals. 
 
 Thus it is that every conceivable absurdity is found mingling 
 with the pure lofty thought of Aryan sages, and that the monstrous 
 fabric of Hindooism with its 339,000,000 of gods has been 
 reared on the grand foundation of the ancient monotheistic creed. 
 
 N 
 
i 7 8 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The Rig-Veda says little or nothing that can possibly be twisted 
 into an allusion to the vexed question of the origin of caste, but 
 the aboriginal tribes are always spoken of in the old Sanskrit 
 writings with the utmost loathing. They are called the Dasyans, 
 i.e. the “ enemy,” or “ demon,” and their imperfect, savage-language 
 was constant matter for ridicule in the eyes of the conquerors, 
 whose rich, clear tongue seemed formed for the expression of all 
 ideal mysteries. Hence their prayers for victory over “ the men 
 of the inarticulate utterance and of the uncouth talk ; ” men, whose 
 language had no terms whatever for the expression of any 
 abstract idea, such as time, space, number; past, present, or 
 future ; earth, heaven, or hell. 
 
 Then, as now, the fair skin despised the dark. “The vile 
 Dasyan colour ” is perpetually alluded to with repugnance, and 
 the gods are repeatedly thanked for having “ scattered the slave 
 bands of black descent, having destroyed the black skin,” while 
 they protected the Aryan colour. “The Thunderer” is said to 
 bestow on his white friends the fields, while the stormy gods scatter 
 the black skin. 
 
 The supreme contempt with which the magnificent Brahman, 
 however poor he may be, treats all other castes, as having been 
 created only for his service, is precisely the feeling with which his 
 fair-skinned ancestors with the clear complexion, finely-chiselled 
 features and intellectual form of head, treated the conquered children 
 of the soil; that is to say, all the non-Aryan tribes, whom they 
 reduced to serfdom and whose descendants are those miserable 
 oppressed castes known as the Sudras, and those still more wretched 
 outcasts, or Pariahs, rejected even by these, and often distinguished 
 by flattened features and thick lips, peculiarities duly noted by the 
 Aryan poets, who speak of the snub noses and squat features of 
 the aborigines, while praising the “ beautiful nose ” of some of 
 their own ideal gods. 
 
 The gross use of all manner of animal food was, above all, 
 repulsive to the more refined habits of the Aryan ; the use of raw 
 meat, of horse flesh, even of human flesh, and the savage and bloody 
 sacrifices offered to propitiate malignant demons, as well as to supply 
 
ORIGIN OF CASTE. 
 
 . 1/9 
 
 the voracious worshippers with an abundant store of food—all these 
 habits of the Dasyan were as revolting to the strict refinement 
 of the Aryan as those of the modern Sudra are to the Brahman. 
 Hence the title, “ the Raw-Eaters,” by which the Vedas describe 
 these inferior animals—these “snake” and “ monkey” tribes. 
 
 This demonology seems to have been the sole idea of worship 
 among these people, the lowest form of servile fear. As to any 
 knowledge of a future life, they have not even a word to express 
 it. Like a poor African Bushman, to whom we once vainly 
 hoped to convey some notion of immortality by speaking to him 
 of his dead mother, but who could realise no more exalted view 
 of the case than to repeat, with a grin of amusement, “ Ah, 
 massa’s sister! my mother is rotten !—she is rotten!” so these 
 strangely ignoble tribes could conceive no possibility of a 
 resurrection ; nor had they any funeral rites save quickly burying 
 the corpse, and adjuring the dead, who could no longer eat with 
 them, never again to come near them. 
 
 No wonder that such people as these should have quickly 
 accepted their position as the natural slaves and bondmen of the 
 more enlightened races. “Z ’occasion fait le larron and it is 
 worthy of note that those Aryan tribes who settled in Cashmere 
 and beyond the Indus, and who apparently did not find such 
 good raw material for serfdom, have continued to believe in the 
 equality of all men, and utterly ignore all distinctions of caste. 
 
 It is very curious to note the gradual development of this 
 system from those early days, when the Aryan faith, beginning 
 to degenerate, embodied itself in those later Vedas which teach 
 how from the body of Brahma sprang four great castes — the 
 Brahmans, Kshatriyas or soldiers, Vaisyas or agriculturists, and 
 Sudras or servants, who respectively came from his mouth, 
 shoulders, thighs and feet; while the miserable aborigines of the 
 land were classed as Pariahs, or outcasts, who claim no descent 
 from Brahma, and consequently are despised to an extent not to 
 be told. 
 
 Gradually these four castes came to be subdivided into the 
 incalculable varieties we now find in such endless complication. 
 
 N 2 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 I So 
 
 Thus THE BRAHMANS ALONE COUNT TWO THOUSAND DISTINCT 
 families of their order, those of Northern India being 
 esteemed the most holy, having kept their old blood more pure 
 than those who pushed southward, and who in some measure 
 blended with the people of the land. There are, however, 
 several distinct classes of Brahmans dwelling in the great 
 northern mountains (the Himalayas), who are held in the utmost 
 contempt by their namesakes in the plains, and who return this 
 feeling with interest. 1 The Brahmans of Bengal alone number 
 one hundred and sixty-eight subdivisions , who may neither eat , 
 drink , nor intermarry one with another; though the holiest of all 
 —the Coolin Brahmans—may marry wives by the score from 
 all the other families, their sanctity being an inexhaustible store, 
 which, like a flame of fire, may be imparted to others, but never 
 loses aught of its own pure light. 
 
 There is one caste of Brahmans, called Poorbeea, who carry their 
 niceties to such a pitch that they may not even take fire from one 
 another. Hence the saying, “Twelve Poorbeeas and thirteen 
 fires,” because, supposing twelve brothers about to dine, they must 
 first kindle one fire for general use ; then each (having made his 
 own little mud-oven, smeared with cow-dung) takes fire thence 
 and proceeds to cook for himself. 
 
 Perhaps the most remarkable instance cf the subdivision of 
 castes is that of the oil-makers in Telingana, whose only dis¬ 
 tinction is that one-half work their oil-mills with one bullock, 
 while the others use two ; yet they cannot intermarry, nor even 
 eat together! 
 
 Among'the most curious of caste statistics is the contempt in 
 which astrologers are held. Dr. Hunter states that they are 
 reckoned so impure that, although wearing the sacred thread of 
 the Brahmans, they dare not sit down in any house they chance 
 to enter till all the mats have been taken up. A strange penalty 
 for seeking to extort the secrets of the stars, and one which seems 
 to suggest the contempt wherewith the Aryan conquerors were 
 wont to regard the aboriginal planet-worshippers ! 
 
 1 On the creation of non-Aryan Brahmans, see Chapter XXII. on Benares. 
 
CASTE LAWS. 
 
 181 
 
 All laws and enactments of course go to secure the exaltation 
 of the Brahmans, who alone are allowed to read the sacred books, 
 and who claim universal obedience from their neighbours. The 
 most barbarous decrees are still unrepealed against a man of low 
 caste who would presume to take the smallest liberty, such as to 
 sit down on the carpet of a priest; and though the Brahman may 
 be ever so poor, he can exact any amount of deference from others. 
 Thus the Brahman school-boy will make his companion carry him 
 through the muddy stream, or otherwise make himself useful. 
 Rather an awkward power in the case of two men enlisting in the 
 same regiment, when it may chance that the lowest Sudra may be 
 of higher standing than the Brahman to whom he owes reverence. 
 One disadvantage to the Brahman is, that he must in every case 
 cook his own food. He may also cook for all his neighbours, 
 who cannot be defiled by eating that which he has touched, but 
 they can never render him the same service. 
 
 The low-caste Sudras are often possessed of vast power and 
 v'ealth, being considerable land-owmers. As a general rule, most 
 mercantile and agricultural castes rank as honourable, but any 
 trade involving death of animals, or the use of any animal sub¬ 
 stance, is considered low. Such are fishermen, hunters, laundry- 
 men, snake-charmers, curriers, shoemakers, butchers. Distillers 
 and palm-wine drawers are impure, from the fact that all intoxi¬ 
 cating liquors are forbidden. Sweepers, washers, burners or 
 buriers of the dead, are sheer outcasts. In this, as in every other 
 phase of Hindoo life, endless anomalies exist—barbers, for instance, 
 rank higher than bankers. There seems, however, no insuperable 
 barrier between one profession and another, and certainly men do 
 occasionally pass from one position to another. The son of a 
 goldsmith may become a carver, a potter may turn his hand to 
 the loom, nevertheless caste distinctions are as plain as the caste 
 mark painted on their forehead—not a dead letter, but a living 
 fact enforced by the whole community. Thus for a damsel of 
 one caste to marry into a lower, would shock the nerves of 
 society almost as much as if an English girl were to marry her 
 groom. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 182 
 
 In the matter of food the Brahman is supposed to abstain from 
 all animal food and all intoxicating liquors; but the average castes 
 will eat goat, sheep, and such like, as well as all manner of game 
 —not poultry however, that being impure. But if possible, they 
 will always eat in secret from a dread of the evil eye of any passer¬ 
 by, and cooking must also be done in private for fear of ceremonial 
 defilement, as even a glance from a man of lower caste, or a foreigner, 
 renders food unfit for use. Its uncleanliness would contaminate 
 both soul and body, and entail long penance, so it must be thrown 
 away, even if the family have to fast for the whole day. 
 
 They are especially strict in the drawing of water, every man 
 for himself, in his own brass lota : and this it is which makes it 
 impossible for a Hindoo to visit England without losing caste, 
 as in crossing the “ black water,” as they call the sea, the difficul¬ 
 ties of maintaining ceremonial purity in cooking are insuperable, 
 and only a man of the lower castes could eat food cooked by 
 another person, or with water of uncertain purity. There are 
 castes so low that they will eat whatever comes to hand—carrion, 
 rats, and river tortoises, or even foodfrom the table of a Christian ! 
 they will also drink all fermented liquors. 
 
 To us free Britons, it seems scarcely possible to understand 
 the existence of a system so rigid and so real, or which can 
 possess such crushing power against those who trangress its 
 regulations, affecting even the details of a man’s most private 
 domestic life. Expulsion from caste is in fact a civil excom¬ 
 munication as far-reaching as ever was fulminated from Rome. 
 It cuts a man off from all intercourse with his fellows. No 
 one will do business with him; the houses of his old com¬ 
 panions are closed to him ; he is cast out of the temple where 
 he was wont to worship; his children cannot be given in marriage, 
 for no one would venture to become connected with him. He 
 becomes an isolated being, dead as it were to the world, and 
 bereft of friends and relations, who prefer disowning him to 
 sharing his miserable fate. None dare eat with him or give 
 him so much as water to drink. No lower caste would receive 
 him. He becomes a Pariah, and sinks to the lowest depth of 
 
OUTCASTS. 
 
 183 
 
 degradation, and should he die unshriven, none will, in his last 
 hour, carry him to the sacred river, or after death, to the burning 
 ghaut. 
 
 There are, however, certain ceremonies whereby a man may 
 make atonement for small sins and be restored to his own caste. 
 He must pay a certain fine, and must swallow a foul compound 
 of the various produce of the sacred cow, and observe other 
 religious ceremonies, and may thus in time regain his social 
 position ; but should he have been guilty of tasting beef, that 
 crime is beyond redemption, and he is eternally lost. 
 
 This is the more curious, because the prohibition of beef is a 
 thing of even more recent date than the growth of caste itself. The 
 most ancient Sanskrit books describe solemn sacrifices of bulls 
 and heifers of divers colours, and dilate on the jovial feasts of 
 beef and ale which ensued — a comfortable phase of living, which 
 seems to have continued till the seventh century of the Christian 
 era, when the prohibition is first heard of. Moreover the sacrifice 
 of a cow was one of the ancient funeral rites specially ordained by 
 the Vedic ritual. 
 
 It seems that from time to time efforts have been made with 
 more or less success to break through the caste system. 
 
 Thus, in the worship of Vishnu as Jagannath, we find that the 
 teaching of equality lies at the root of his amazing hold on the 
 Hindoo race. It is because the “Lord of the World ” is also the 
 god of the people, that they continue year by year to flock to his 
 shrines in such countless multitudes, and in defiance of such cruel 
 hardships, that thousands and tens of thousands annually perish 
 by the way; not beneath the wheels of his car in voluntary self- 
 immolation, as has been so often falsely asserted, and so entirely 
 disproved, but from weariness and exhaustion, in striving to 
 press onward to the shrine where the lowest outcast is as welcome 
 as the proudest Brahman, and where both together may partake 
 of that sacrament of the holy food which is the pledge of 
 common brotherhood among the worshippers of one lord. I 
 cannot resist quoting a passage on this subject from Dr. Hunter's 
 Orissa., Speaking of the worship of Jagannath, he says : — 
 
iS4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 “As long as his towers rise upon the Puri Sands, so long will 
 there be in India a perpetual and visible protest of the equality of 
 man before God. His apostles penetrate to every hamlet of 
 Hindoostan, preaching the sacrament of the holy food. The 
 poor outcast learns that there is a city on the far eastern shore 
 in which high and low eat together. In his own village if he 
 accidentally touches the clothes of a man of good caste he has 
 committed a crime, and his outraged superior has to wash away 
 the pollution before he can partake of food or approach his 
 god. In some parts of the country the lowest castes are not 
 permitted to build within the towns, and their miserable hovels 
 cluster amid heaps of broken potsherds and dunghills on the 
 outskirts. 
 
 “ Throughout the southern part of the continent it used to be a 
 law that no man of these degraded castes might enter the village 
 before nine in the morning, or after four in the evening, lest the 
 slanting rays of the sun should cast his shadow across the path of 
 a Brahman. But in the presence of the Lord of the World priest 
 and peasant are equal. The rice that has once been placed before 
 the god can never cease to be pure, or lose its reflected sanctity. 
 In the courts of Jagannath, and outside the Lion Gate, 100,000 
 pilgrims every year are joined in the sacrament of eating the holy 
 food. The lowest may demand it from or give it to the highest. 
 Its sanctity overleaps all barriers, not only of caste, but of race 
 and hostile faiths ; and I have seen a Puri priest put to the test of 
 receiving the food from a Christian’s hand.” 
 
 This holy food, of “ the great offering,” 1 is believed to be 
 endowed with a power of working miracles more marvellous even 
 than those which have been attributed to the consecrated wafer 
 of Christendom. Dr. Hunter quotes a legend concerning a proud 
 pilgrim, who swore that though he purposed looking upon the 
 Lord of the World, he would assuredly eat no leavings of any 
 mortal or immortal being. But lo ! ere he set foot within the 
 sacred city, he was stricken by the angry god, and his arms and 
 legs fell off, and there remained of him only a miserable body, 
 1 Mahaprasad. 
 
THE HOLY FOOD. 
 
 185 
 
 which lay by the roadside for two months, dependent on the 
 charity of passers-by. But at length it chanced that a dog cam© 
 by that way, with a mouthful of the holy food, and as it passed 
 the place where the pilgrim lay, some grains of rice fell on the 
 ground. Then the poor humbled wretch managed to roll himself 
 forward, so that with his lips he might gather up the precious 
 grains, the leavings of a dog, whose mere shadow falling on 
 ordinary food would defile it. Nevertheless, as he gathered them 
 reverently, albeit mingled with the saliva of the unclean creature, 
 lo! the mercy of the good lord Jagannath was extended to him— 
 new limbs were given him, and he was suffered, in lowliest 
 penitence, to approach the shrine. 
 
 But beautiful as is the theory of brotherhood, symbolised by 
 this sacramental feast, it seems to be in a great measure ignored 
 by the degenerate Brahmans of the present day, and many a 
 weary pilgrim of the lower castes is in danger of finding himself 
 excluded from the immediate presence of the Lord of the World, 
 for no other reason than that he inherits the social position of his 
 father, and follows his trade. Although in direct violation of the 
 spirit of the feast, and of the laws of the founder, admission to 
 the temple is now generally refused to all castes who have to 
 do with handling unclean substances, such as corpses, or skins of 
 beasts; all who have to do with the destruction of animals, 
 birds, or fishes ; all Christians, Mohammedans, or aboriginal tribes. 
 
 Criminals are also excluded till they have expiated their crimes 
 by costly penance; while for a woman, who has once fallen, there 
 is no possibility of remission. However deep her repentance, she 
 may never again set foot within the sacred precincts—a rule 
 which seems strangely arbitrary, considering the character borne 
 by the dancing girls belonging to the temple ! Thus a very large 
 proportion of the pilgrims are by priestly intolerance declared to 
 be outcast, notwithstanding the direct declaration to the contrary 
 by the early apostles of Jaganndth, who taught that “ God’s 
 pity knows neither family nor tribe.” “Not the learned in the 
 four holy scriptures, but the lowly man who believes, is dear to 
 Him.” 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 186 
 
 But rigidly as the Brahmans guard their inner sanctuary from 
 the intrusion of the despised low castes, they dare not refuse them 
 their share of the holy food—more especially as the sale thereof 
 is a source of revenue to the temple. They therefore go through 
 the solemn ceremony of presenting it to Jagannath in the outer 
 court of the temple, and then sell it to the vast hungering 
 multitude outside, in red earthenware pots, which may not be 
 used a second time. Therefore every evening thousands of these 
 are thrown aside, and the thrifty husbandmen of the district 
 make use of them in building up frail boundary walls around 
 their fields. 
 
 It appears that even the holy food itself becomes an additional 
 cause of suffering to the wretched pilgrims, for not only is it 
 often ill-cooked, but it is served out by the priests in such large 
 quantities that the pilgrims cannot consume it in a day, and as 
 they dare not waste the least fragment of the sacred food, they 
 are constantly compelled to consume it on the second day, in a 
 condition of fermentation or putrefaction ; a fruitful source of 
 illness to the dense multitude of half starved and exhausted 
 wretches, enfeebled by long travel, and perhaps already cholera- 
 stricken. But whatever failure there may be in the practical 
 working of this great festival, its theory remains unchanged, and 
 forms one of the mightiest holds of Vishnu on the affections of 
 the people. 
 
 Even the miserable leper (most wretched of all outcasts) cannot 
 be denied the privilege of worshipping at this holy shrine, so that 
 numerous bands of leper pilgrims drag their weary limbs thither, 
 in the vain hope of here finding pardon and healing. These of 
 all men are surely the most miserable, being deemed so horribly 
 unclean that even a man of the highest caste, thus afflicted, loses 
 all caste and all privileges. In life he is an outcast even from his 
 own family, and after death his body is consigned to the care of 
 the lowest scavengers. It is estimated that upwards of a hundred 
 thousand of our Indian fellow subjects are thus afflicted. Human 
 mercy does something for their aid in the way of leper hospitals, 
 but these are wholly inadequate to their requirements. So to the 
 
FUNERAL SACRIFICE OF COWS. 
 
 IS 7 
 
 all-embracing mercy of the pitying Lord of the World they turn 
 as to their only refuge—sustained during their lone and toilsome 
 journey on the alms of their fellow pilgrims, only to learn at last 
 how hopeless is their sad case. 
 
 Among these very varied developments of all manner of wor¬ 
 ship, I need scarcely say that that most widespread of all religious 
 acts—the offering of gifts and homage to deceased ancestors—is 
 not neglected, though it is not so obvious to the casual observer 
 as in other countries, such as China. Here, however, are two 
 hundred million people who believe that no matter how good 
 a man has been, if his funeral rites are not properly conducted, 
 and his cremation is neglected, he becomes a bhuta, that is, a 
 malignant demon (unless, indeed, his remains find their way to 
 the holy river Ganges, which cleanses from all sin). It is therefore 
 of the utmost importance to recover the body of any man who 
 has died in any out-of-the-way place, and if this cannot be done, 
 his son ought to make an image of sacred kusa grass and cremate 
 that as his representative. 
 
 As only sons can officiate in the funeral rites, it follows that 
 these are ever more welcome than daughters, and the man who 
 dies son-less not only becomes a demon-spirit himself, but inflicts 
 a grievous wrong on the two previous generations. Hence the 
 religious obligation of early marriage. To avert such a cata¬ 
 strophe, special services of most intricate ritual (requiring the 
 presence of sixteen orders of priests—and of extraordinary length, 
 inasmuch as they generally continued for weeks, and sometimes 
 for years) were prescribed in ancient Vedic days, in order to 
 obtain from the gods an unbroken line of descendants for three 
 generations. For, as all the dead relations in the three last 
 generations are dependent on the living for their supplies, and 
 deliverance from Put, i.e. purgatory, so are these, in their turn, 
 dependent on the three generations which succeed them. Thus 
 are seven generations of every Hindoo family closely knit together 
 by ties of most active self-interest. 
 
 That the modern sanctity of cattle had not been invented in 
 the early Vedic days (500 b.c.) is plain from the ancient ritual, 
 
iSS 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 which prescribes, as one of the funereal rites, the sacrifice of a cow, 
 in order that the dead might feast on the aroma (while doubtless 
 the survivors enjoyed the substantial reality, though the luxury of 
 salt was denied them for three days). Three funeral pyres were 
 then erected, and the dead having been laid on the central one, 
 small pieces of beef were placed in his hands and on various 
 other parts of the corpse, which was then cremated, and the 
 spirit was wafted upward by the smoke. 
 
 But as yet it was only a poor restless disembodied ghost, alike 
 incapable of enjoying the bliss of heaven, or of suffering the 
 anguish of such hells as only oriental ingenuity could devise. Its 
 spiritual body was as yet a small undeveloped germ, dependent 
 for its growth on the daily offerings of rice balls, presented by the 
 living at the place of cremation. By about the tenth day this 
 little body had expanded, and the spirit entered into it, and passed 
 to its appointed place in heaven or hell, whereupon the cremated 
 ashes and bits of bone were collected in an urn and reverently 
 buried. 
 
 Nowadays the ashes are collected on the fourth day, and after 
 lying buried for a few days in an earthen vessel, are cast into 
 some sacred river—if possible the Ganges. Of course the sacrifice 
 of the cow is now dispensed with, and in lieu thereof sacred 
 cow-dung is spread in the centre of the collected ashes. On 
 this charming centre-piece are spread green plantain leaves, on 
 which is laid an elaborate offering of little earthenware saucers 
 containing rice balls, wheaten cakes, flowers, honey, sesamum- 
 seeds, betel-leaves, areca-nut, sandal-wood, lighted wicks, milk, 
 and water. These last are poured over the rice cakes as a 
 libation. 
 
 The nearest relation then walks five times round this curious 
 offering, on which he pours water from an earthenware vessel 
 which he afterwards breaks. Strange to say, he makes these turns 
 against the course of the sun, keeping his left shoulder to the 
 centre. The relations add to the offerings threads drawn out of 
 their own garments, to symbolise the clothes which they would 
 willingly give to their dead kinsman. All the earthenware 
 
HINDOO HELLS AND HEAVENS. 
 
 189 
 
 saucers must be broken at the end of this service, for they can 
 never be used a second time, and the rice cakes and balls are 
 either left for the birds, or thrown into the nearest river. 
 
 Periodical services on behalf of the dead are held from time 
 to time either in a temple or an equally sacred cow-stable. The 
 number of ceremonies required, and the number of days to which 
 they are prolonged, are only limited by the capacity of endurance 
 of the poor survivors—for the great feature of these ancestral 
 services is the feasting of the Brahmans, who are loaded with 
 gifts, in the belief that whatever is given to these darlings of 
 heaven is as acceptable to the dead as if given to themselves. 
 Moreover, only the Brahmans have power to deliver from hell, 
 and they are certain to exact the uttermost farthing in payment of 
 their services. The sums said to be thus expended by wealthy 
 families are almost incredible, and have in some cases been 
 estimated at upwards of 100,000/. ! 
 
 Besides these occasional great ceremonials, the pious Hindoo 
 (they are all pious) performs acts of filial reverence before his 
 domestic altar every morning of his life, by offering homage to 
 his ancestors, and repeating his own genealogy, thereby enumer¬ 
 ating them all. Should he be a Brahman, he arranges his mystic 
 threefold cord over his right shoulder and under his left arm, and 
 then, pouring out a libation of water, he prays that the water 
 consecrated by the merit of his sacred thread may be accepted by 
 such of his deceased relations as have died without sons to offer 
 for them. 
 
 As regards the spirit worlds, into one or other of which the 
 spirit has passed in its newly-developed body, it may happily be 
 arrested in one of the seven lower worlds, which are all beautiful 
 paradises, though inhabited by demons and nagas; the latter are 
 half men and half serpents, and are governed by three great 
 snakes which reign over all the snakes on earth. 
 
 Beneath these worlds lie the twenty-one hells. These and the 
 road thither are indescribably appalling; imagination and the 
 power of word-painting are exhausted in the effort to describe 
 them. One is a dark forest where every leaf is a sharp sword; 
 
IN TITE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 I90 
 
 another is paved with iron spikes which pierce the naked victims; 
 a third is a sea of foulest mud; a fourth is inclosed by living walls 
 of poisonous serpents intertwined in horrible contortions—and so 
 the list runs on, in ever-deepening horror. 
 
 On the other hand there are seven upper worlds, of which ours 
 is one. These are the dwellings of the three hundred and thirty 
 million of gods, and the inhabitants of these happy lands have 
 bodies which never perspire and cast no shadow,, eyes that never 
 shrink from the sun’s brightest glare, and gorgeous fragrant 
 flowers which never fade. 
 
 It is worthy of note that with all the ingenious varieties of 
 horror which are accumulated around the hells of Hindooism, 
 there is no hint of an eternity of evil. Temporal sin receives 
 temporary punishment, and after the sins of earthly life have 
 been expiated in one of these purgatories, a new life begins—a 
 transmigration into some animal, insect, or plant. Hence every 
 living creature, wherein is the breath of life, is entitled to 
 reverence, as possibly sheltering the soul of some ancestor ! 
 
 To return, however, to those early days, when the first germ of 
 the now mighty caste system sprang from the contemptuous 
 pride with which the Aryan conquerors treated the inferior races. 
 Despised as were these, they nevertheless seem to have had their 
 full share in modifying the religion of their conquerors. A mixed 
 race soon led to a mixed faith, and the demon-worship, once 
 so abhorrent in their eyes, rapidly gained ground, growing up, 
 together with the new faith, like rank tares among good seed. 
 Thus it came to pass that Mahadeo (the great god) was no longer 
 worshipped simply as the lord and giver of life. He became 
 identified with Siva, in which character he became the destroyer 
 of his own work. In course of time these opposite principles 
 were reconciled by the doctrine of transmigration, according to 
 which, destruction in one form implies only a new material birth. 
 In his character of destroyer he is ably assisted by his wife, in her 
 most maligant character as Kali or Doorga, who appears as the 
 most terrible of those insatiable fiends who can only be pacified by 
 an oblation of warm human blood. 
 
CHOTA NAGPORE MISSION. igi 
 
 Although under the English rule these demons are forced to be 
 satisfied with the blood of sheep and goats, there have been 
 instances so late as the famine of 1866, when the more precious 
 offering has been procured, and a ghastly human head has glared 
 from among the flowers which decked the altars of these monstrous 
 gods. 
 
 Dr. Hunter remarks that in Northern India, where the aborigines 
 at once succumbed to the Aryans, this demon-worship hardly 
 appears, whereas in Lower Bengal, where they in some measure 
 held their ground, its presence is far more decided; while in those 
 hill and forest districts where the Aryans never settled, and where 
 the aboriginal black races of Bengal still hold their ground, the 
 very lowest form of unmitigated devil-worship still prevails. 
 
 It is so firmly rooted in the affections of the people that neither 
 Buddhism, in the days when its influence swept in a resistless tide 
 over the length and breadth of the land, nor Christianity of any 
 sort, have been able to wean even their nominal converts from their 
 adherence to these rites; more especially the daily offerings of 
 flour, water, red paint, and rice, to an unknown god, supposed to 
 dwell in some sacred tree, and to be the guardian-spirit of each 
 village. Several times a year all the people of a village assemble 
 to sacrifice goats, chickens, and red cocks, which they then cook 
 at great fires, and after dancing in a large circle round each tree 
 in the sacred grove, so as to make sure of doing homage to every 
 possible god or devil, they have a grand feast and jovial merry¬ 
 making. 
 
 W ithin the last few years, however, an extraordinary religious 
 awakening has taken place among the Santals and the kindred 
 tribe of Kols, many thousands of whom have been converted to 
 Christianity through the influence of two German missionaries, 
 who, having first observed some of them working in Calcutta, 
 bethought them of seeking them out in their mountain homes. 
 There they were ill received, and pelted from village to village. 
 Yet for five years they persevered in the effort that seemed so 
 hopeless. At the end of that time two men came to them to 
 inquire further, especially desiring to see Him of whom they 
 
192 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 taught. When they found they could not see Him literally, they 
 went away again. Yet after a while they returned, and eventually 
 requested to be baptised. 
 
 This beginning was as the opening of a mighty floodgate. 
 Others crowded to hear and learn. By the end of the twelfth year 
 the Christians of this Chota Nagpore Mission numbered many 
 thousands : of whom eight hundred were communicants. These 
 men, you see, are not trammelled by those social difficulties which 
 beset the Hindoo of the plains ; they neither have the subtle 
 intellectual refinement of the Brahman in defending their own 
 creed, nor the dread of losing caste, so that when once convinced 
 of the truth they have fewer obstacles in accepting it. They are 
 described by one, whose official work lay amongst them for 
 many years, as being a very noble race, honest, and honourable; 
 exceedingly truthful and chivalrous; brave to infatuation ; true 
 and just in all their dealings. 
 
 Among such tribes as these, Christian teachers go to work 
 hopefully, as the Culdees of old came to these Isles of Britain 
 to teach our pagan forefathers. It may be that as our own most 
 rude heathenism has so utterly melted away, that Britain now 
 ranks high among the Christian nations; so these wild tribes 
 may prove as a focus of that Light which may yet spread over the 
 length and breadth of the land in a wave so mighty and resistless 
 as to sweep away all vestige of the faiths of Brahma and 
 Mohammed, as utterly as they, in their turn, extinguished that 
 of Buddha. Perchance the Hindoo antiquarian of some future 
 generation may speculate and theorise over each trace of these 
 forgotten mysteries, just as our own learned men now do over 
 such meagre hints as they can gather from Stonehenge and other 
 speechless stones. 
 
 Once more to return to that long period during which the 
 Aryans carried all before them in India. 
 
 They held sway till the birth of Buddha, 623 b.c., whose 
 strange career was chiefly run in these provinces. It was in the 
 kingdom of Oude that, upwards of two thousand years ago, this 
 young prince (Siddhartha, alias Gautama, alias Sakya-muni, i.e. 
 
THE FREACHING OF BUDDHA. 
 
 193 
 
 the solitary or monk, alias Buddha, the wise, the enlightened one, 
 he to whom truth is known) found himself surrounded by all the 
 splendour of a luxurious court, of which he himself was the 
 centre. Nevertheless he quickly learned old Solomon’s lesson 
 of vanity and vexation of spirit. Vainly did he seek counsel of 
 the most learned Brahmans, hoping from them to receive that key 
 of a spiritual world that might unlock the mysteries and per¬ 
 plexities of the present. But the Brahmans had already lost the 
 purity of their own grand old faith. Even in those early days the 
 simplicity of the Vedas had given place to a mass of traditions 
 and puerile fables. 
 
 Such husks as these could never satisfy the cravings of 
 Gautama’s hungry soul. At length, escaping from his grandeur 
 in the garb of a religious mendicant, he devoted himself to an 
 ascetic life of contemplation, seeking with unutterable longing for 
 peace of spirit. Though exposed to sore temptation from vile 
 demons, he still persevered; sitting for weeks in abstracted 
 thought; striving to think out many of the problems that have 
 in all ages given food for deepest speculation. At length he 
 came to the satisfactory conclusion that ignorance is the cause of 
 all evil and misery, and that by a rigid course of well-doing every 
 man may at length (probably after various transmigrations) be 
 freed from the burden of existence, and delivered from the 
 necessity of ever being born again to any new form of being. In 
 other words, he may attain Nirvana, a condition of dreamless rest; 
 some say, annihilation. 
 
 Having thus discovered the root of perfect wisdom, he rose 
 from his lengthy contemplations, and assuming the title of the 
 Buddha, the enlightened one, he determined to impart that light 
 to all his fellow-creatures. Commencing at Benares, he wandered 
 over the Northern Provinces, teaching and preaching a doctrine 
 of human brotherhood, which, without abolishing caste, made it 
 null and void. The new system breathed universal charity and 
 sympathy with all men. To the lowest outcast, the blessedness 
 of Nirvana was as freely open as to the highest. Woman was 
 henceforward, in her own sphere, to rank equal with man. 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Thousands flocked to listen to this new doctrine of kindliness, 
 brotherhood, and humanity. A mighty reaction set in against the 
 narrow bigotry of Brahmanism, and the exclusiveness of its caste 
 system. 
 
 It has commonly been stated that Buddha himself was de¬ 
 scended from the royal Aryan race of Sakyas, who reigned in 
 Oude, and that the exalted rank thus voluntarily abjured, tended 
 greatly to attract the people to hear him. It is carious, however, 
 that all his statues invariably represent him with the heavy 
 features common among the lower castes ; the thick lips and flat 
 nose of the aborigines, and curly hair like that of a negro, 
 whereas all castes alike in India have straight silky hair. Just 
 as the calm features of the Sphinx are simply a reproduction 
 of the sullen Coptic type, so these contemplative Buddhas would 
 plainly seem to represent a cast of countenance in nowise related 
 to the intellectual Aryan Brahman, and by him utterly despised. 
 
 It was no marvel then that multitudes of the enslaved ab¬ 
 original tribes should eagerly gather round their great champion, 
 hoping to throw off the Aryan yoke which had so long weighed 
 heavily on soul as well as body. But not only among the poor 
 and oppressed classes did Gautama number his converts—kings, 
 princes, nobles, rallied round him, to listen ‘to his words of 
 persuasive eloquence. 
 
 At the age of eighty he died, in calmest serenity, in the king¬ 
 dom of Oude, and his body was burned with all honour. From 
 that funeral pyre, his disciples in later times, pretend that all 
 those worshipful relics were preserved which now receive a 
 homage that would doubtless have vexed poor Buddha’s soul. 
 After his death his devoted missionaries zealously preached the 
 new faith, so that about b.c. 300 it had spread all over Asia. In 
 every place, his followers erected colossal statues in his honour. 
 We hear of the Chinese capturing one of these in their raids to 
 the north of the great desert of Gobi, b.c. 120. It was said to 
 be made of solid gold, but was probably gilt, like those we find 
 in the great Buddhist temples in China. The ensuing bronze- 
 casters of Japan produced stupendous brazen images of the 
 
asoka’s rock edicts. 
 
 195 
 
 Great Reformer, while gigantic stone images of Buddha still 
 remain in the wilds of the Southern Jungles of India; and 
 hundreds of rock-hewn temples, miracles of stupendous stone 
 carving, are found in all parts of the country, to tell of the faith 
 which once reigned supreme throughout Hindoostan, though it 
 has long since passed away hence. 
 
 Among these speaking stone memorials must be ranked such 
 buildings as the great tope at Sanchi, that mighty relic-shrine, 
 whose huge stone portals are to this day a marvel of mythological 
 sculptures, representing the primeval worship of sacred serpents 
 and holy trees, and displaying wheels, umbrellas, and other 
 symbols more particularly suggestive of the new faith—which 
 the Emperor Asoka established as the religion of the state. This 
 mighty despot having determined that the new maxims which had 
 become binding on his own conscience should henceforth be law 
 to his subjects, proceeded to inscribe them on stone in every 
 corner of his dominions, that the wayfarer might read them for 
 himself. 
 
 Thus it is that, besides finding his edicts engraven on his 
 buildings and pillars, 1 they are also found inscribed — as on im¬ 
 perishable tablets—on great rocks scattered over the country 
 from Orissa to Peshawur. One of these huge boulders, twenty 
 feet in height and twenty-three in circumference, lies in the lonely 
 jungle in the district of Kathiawad in Western India. Here the 
 Emperor states, that being convinced of the iniquity of slaying 
 living creatures, he will henceforth desist from the pleasures of 
 the chase. Henceforth, no animal must be put to death either 
 for meat or sacrifice; and this law which the Emperor appoints 
 for himself, is to apply to all his subjects, who are in future to 
 feed only on vegetables. 
 
 His protection of the brute creation applies not only to their 
 lives; medical care is to be provided for all living creatures, man 
 and beast, throughout the whole empire, as far south as Ceylon. 
 Wells are to be dug, and trees planted, that men and beasts 
 may have shade and drink. The Emperor forbids all convivial 
 1 See Chapter III., Allahabad. 
 
196 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 meetings, as displeasing to the gods or injurious to the reveller. 
 He declares that he will himself set the example of abstaining 
 from all, save religious festivals. On this huge “Junagadh 
 Rock,” as it is called, allusion is also made to four contemporary 
 Greek kings. The date thus obtained is proved to be about 
 250 b.c., which just corresponds with that of Asoka himself. 
 
 The edicts go into various other matters. They inculcate the 
 practice of a moral law of exceeding purity; they enjoin universal 
 charity; and bid all men strive to propagate the true creed. To 
 this end, special missionaries were to be sent forth to the utter¬ 
 most parts of the earth, to preach to rich and poor, learned and 
 ignorant, that they might bring those “ which were bound in the 
 fetters of sin, to a righteousness passing knowledge.” Never¬ 
 theless, a liberal margin was to be allowed for diversity of 
 opinion, and nothing savouring of religious persecution was to he 
 tolerated. 
 
 For one striking feature in the rapid spread of Buddhism is 
 that (unlike the faith of Islam, whose gentlest persuasive reasoning 
 lay in fire and sword,) it has never employed violence, but, like 
 the mightiest powers in the physical world, has diffused its in¬ 
 fluence calmly and silently, and at the present moment its 
 disciples number upwards of five-hundred millions of the 
 human race!——in other words, about one-third of the earth’s 
 population. 1 
 
 Nay, more; its influence seems to have extended to many an 
 undreamt-of quarter, and to have even given something of its 
 own tone and colour to the Christian Church, many of whose 
 most cherished institutions—such as the veneration for relics, 
 the canonisation of saints, the use of rosaries, the divers orders 
 of monastic life, the rigid vows of poverty and asceticism, 
 celibacy of the clergy, priestly robes and shaven crowns, pro¬ 
 cessions carrying banners, chaunted litanies, the use of incense 
 and of holy water, the ringing of a small bell during service, 
 midnight masses for the delivery of souls in purgatory, and very 
 
 1 It is estimated that the nominal Buddhists throughout the world number 
 500,000,000 and the Christians number 360,000,000. 
 
STRUGGLES OF BRAHMANS AND BUDDHISTS. 197 
 
 many other ecclesiastical details—can hardly be accounted for, 
 save on the supposition (which indeed is well-nigh a certainty) 
 that they were adopted by the Christians of Egypt from the 
 practice of Oriental Buddhists, by whom all these things were as 
 religiously observed before the Christian era, as they are at the 
 present day. 
 
 Except in the modified sect of the Jains, the faith of Buddha 
 now owns comparatively few adherents in Hindoostan, the land 
 of its birth, save at least in the mountains on the frontiers of 
 Thibet and Chinese Tartary; and since the Mikado has abjured 
 the creed of his fathers in favour of Shinto-ism, it can no longer 
 claim to be the national religion of Japan, though its temples 
 there are still storehouses of art-treasures. But in Ceylon, 
 Burmah, Siam, and the adjacent countries, this dreamy faith still 
 holds undisputed sway, while it extends north through China, 
 Thibet, Nepaul, Mongolia and all Central Asia, right up to Siberia 
 and Lapland. 
 
 It is said that in Thibet the Buddhist monks actually number 
 one-third of the population ! It is probable that the monastic 
 system similarly overdid itself in India, and that, while the 
 cleverest and best men were thus flying from their fellows, or 
 seeking to attain to still higher sanctity by a living burial in 
 caves and deep forest solitudes, the masses found the new faith 
 too spiritual and negative to suit their daily need, and quickly 
 relapsed into the grossest devil-worship. 
 
 Then Brahmanism crept out again, and seems to have given 
 up the attempt to teach its sublimer dogmas, and, while its learned 
 men adhered to the spiritual worship of the Vedas, they encou¬ 
 raged the people to offer bloody sacrifices to such malignant 
 demons as Kali and Siva, and built up the present system of 
 ultra-idolatrous modern Hindooism. Then they devised new 
 sacred books for the people, the Puranas, popular religious 
 works, for the especial benefit of women and Sudras, or low castes. 
 There were mythologies of the grossest sort, to which by degrees 
 they have added all manner of secular matter, till they are said 
 rather to resemble curious encyclopaedias than theological works. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 198 
 
 Thus the Brahmans artfully regained their ascendency, and the 
 Buddhist monks found that out of sight is not always out of 
 mind, for so soon as homage ceased, persecution began, and they 
 were driven forth from every corner of the land. Only in the 
 mountain glens and rocky defiles of the Himalayas could they 
 find a refuge : for the soft sons of the plains cared not to scale 
 those mighty ramparts for the mere pleasure of hunting down 
 their fallen rivals. So in Burmah, Nepaul, and Thibet, the perse¬ 
 cuted monks found sanctuary, and there remained unmolested. 
 In after ages, when the sword of Mohammedan persecution 
 ravaged the land, the Brahmans in their turn found refuge 
 and liberty of conscience, in the same free mountain air. 
 
 Last of all these successive waves comes one which we trust 
 will in due time overflow the whole as a flood of living waters, but 
 which as yet is but a wavelet, scarcely more than a ripple, on this 
 vast ocean. Out of a population of upwards of two hundred 
 and fifty millions, less than one million and a-half are professedly 
 Christian, and even this small number is divided into two widely 
 distinct sections, inasmuch as two-thirds are Roman Catholics, and 
 the remainder Protestants of all denominations. This does not 
 appear a large result as the fruit of a century of contact wkh 
 Europeans; but this would be a very unfair test of mission work, 
 considering how very few, even now, are the Christian teachers 
 compared with the vast multitude of keenly intellectual men 
 whom they must seek to convince of the fallacy of creeds in 
 which they and their forefathers have had such intense belief. 
 
 Think of the mass of positive heathenism which still prevails 
 in Britain, notwithstanding the combined labours of multi¬ 
 tudinous clergy and Christian workers of all sorts, 1 and then 
 
 1 Recent statistics give some startling revelations of the number of persons 
 in our great cities who never enter any place of worship. In one district of 
 St. George’s in the East, only 39 out of 4,235 persons are found ever to do so, 
 and the majority of these only on the occasions of certain annual distributions 
 of charity. Multitudes, upwards of fifty years of age, are found to have never 
 crossed the threshold of a church. In one street off Leicester Square, only 12 
 persons out of 246 families attend any religious service, and similar statistics 
 might be multiplied. 
 
THE FEWNESS OF CHRISTIAN TEACHERS. 
 
 199 
 
 consider, that throughout Hindoostan the missionaries average One 
 to every half million of the population, and even of these, 
 the majority have charge of English congregations, and many are 
 engaged most of their time in teaching in Government schools 
 and colleges, where the education given is purely secular. They 
 are obliged to teach only the prescribed subjects, and the natural 
 result is that the scholars may become members of the Theistic 
 Brahmo Church, but are not likely to become Christians. An 
 exceedingly small number of these clergy are engaged in preaching 
 in the vernacular. 
 
 Nevertheless, notwithstanding all these drawbacks, such a man 
 as Lord Lawrence (Governor-General) has publicly declared his 
 conviction that, “ much as the English have done to benefit India, 
 the missionaries have done more than all other agencies com¬ 
 bined.” The same testimony is borne by such men as Sir 
 Donald McLeod, Sir Bartle Erere, Lord Napier, and many others 
 well acquainted with the undercurrents of Indian life. The 
 marvel seems to be that so much has been accomplished by 
 a body so numerically weak. Now that so large a number of 
 natives of intellectual mark and culture are being trained for the 
 ministry, there seems some prospect that the prophecy made by 
 a Brahman may be fulfilled, namely, that the mighty tree of 
 Hindooism will at length be felled , when the Christian axes are 
 supplied with handles cut from its own boughs. 
 
 It may be that some of these native preachers will find means 
 to set forth the truth in such- a simple yet forcible manner as may 
 best appeal to Oriental thought, and, adopting something of the 
 method of St. John the Baptist (who represents the type of preacher 
 who best appeals to the mind of India), may so arouse their 
 countrymen, that the Great Awakening may begin, which shall 
 stir the whole land. 
 
 And although the British Government places all religions 
 on precisely the same footing, there can be no doubt that 
 the mere fact of two million boys and girls receiving an 
 enlightened education wherein their caste is utterly ignored, 
 must go far towards freeing them from the bondage in which 
 
200 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 they have hitherto been held by their Brahman teachers, and 
 justifies Dr. Hunter’s description of Indian Government schools 
 as “those pestles and mortars for the superstition and priestcraft 
 of India.” 
 
 One very remarkable point connected with these schools (in 
 which young India learns that under the rule of India’s Empress 
 all professions are open to all competitors, of whatever caste) is, 
 that the proud Mohammedans stand aloof, refusing to attend 
 schools which are open to all men, irrespective of birth or creed. 
 Consequently they fail to qualify for Government examinations 
 and employment. The practical result of this is, that although 
 they number one-third of the whole population of Lower Bengal, 
 they only hold one-tenth of the whole Government patronage. 
 Out of 504 Government appointments in Bengal, only fifty-three are 
 held by Mohammedans. Thus the race, who, in the last century, 
 were the mighty rulers of Hindoostan, are now falling out of 
 power simply because of their own exclusiveness. 
 
 Elaving thus glanced over the principal great changes of 
 faith which by turns have held supreme sway in this land— 
 Aboriginal, Pure Aryan, these blending to produce Brahmanism; 
 next Buddhist, Jain, very degenerate Brahman, Mohammedan ; 
 and now once more Brahman, or Hindoo—we will leave 
 the twin cities of Muttra and Bindrabund to their many 
 memories, and travel northward to the great Mohammedan city 
 of Delhi. 
 
 Note. —Here is the result of the census giving the number of Her Majesty’s 
 subjects in Hindoostan in a.d. 1881 , according to their creed— 
 
 Hindoos. 187,937,450 
 
 Mohammedans. 50,121,585 
 
 Aboriginal Hill Tribes (Nature worshippers) 6,426,511 
 
 Buddhists. 3,418,884 
 
 Christians. . 1,862,634 
 
 Sikhs. 1,853,426 
 
 Jains. 1,221,896 
 
 Parsees. 250,000 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DELHI. 
 
 The Punjab—Modern Delhi—A luxurious Camp — The Cashmere Gate—The 
 Mutiny — Capture of the Great Mogul — Past history — Skinner’s Church — 
 A Novel Studio—The Great Mosque — The Ancient City—Successive 
 Emperors—Magnificent Tombs — Deep Wells — Homes of the Poor — 
 Broken Earthenware — Fakirs — No Old Dwellings — Stone Observatory— 
 At the base of the Kootub — A Paradise for Artists — The Giant Minaret— 
 Hindoo Columns—The Iron Pillar — “ Dhilli, the Unstable.” 
 
 If Agra held us spell-bound as in a dream of all that is pure and 
 lovely in architecture, Delhi remains stamped on our memories as 
 the very embodiment of power and strength, a dwelling-place of 
 giants. Nowhere will you find more marvellous proofs of the 
 might of the Mohammedan empire, or be more impressed with 
 reverence for the master minds which designed such wondrous 
 structure, than in these two cities of the Moguls. 
 
 Fain would I linger in telling you of the marvels of Delhi, of the 
 great walled city wherein the wicked king so recently held his vile 
 but gorgeous court, of the solemn beauty of the mighty mosques 
 wherein the white-robed worshippers assemble in throngs so vast • 
 and, above all, of the wild, silent desolation of the great plain 
 beyond, thickly strewn with stupendous ruins of Cyclopean forts, 
 huge tombs with gigantic gateways—the smallest of which would 
 make the finest of our old English bars seem utterly puny and 
 contemptible—and marble mosques, whose glittering white, con¬ 
 trasts with the world of carved red sandstone on every side. Here 
 
202 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 each successive Emperor of the mighty Pathan dynasty has left his 
 mark, and you may wander in every direction over an expanse 
 of four-and-tvventy miles, exploring the wonders of this marvellous 
 world of ruins. 
 
 We had bidden adieu to the North West Provinces (which 
 include Agra, Cawnpore, and Allahabad), and were now in the 
 Punjab, or land of five rivers ; a name which, like the Doab, two 
 rivers, is a compound of Hindoo and Persian ; ab, meaning water 
 in the latter tongue. The five rivers are, I believe, the Beeas, the 
 Thelum, the Ravee, the Sutlej, and the Chenab. 
 
 The modern city of Delhi (Dhilli, the Unstable), is called by the 
 natives Shah-Jehan-abad, or the city of that great Mohammedan 
 Emperor whose work we have already seen at Agra. He founded 
 this city in 1631. Its streets, palaces, mosques, and mighty fort of 
 red sandstone, (which even now are marvels of strength and 
 beauty,) covered a space seven miles in circumference, which he 
 inclosed by immense walls of the same dark red stone, 
 pierced by seven great gates. On the third side, the city is washed 
 by the blue waters of the Jumna, from whose brink rise the domes 
 of stately mosques with their tall graceful minarets, like fingers 
 pointing heavenwards. 
 
 Strangely in contrast with these memorials of Mohammedan 
 conquerors, is the one great work of the present rulers, a work 
 still so new, that the native mind has not yet ceased to marvel at 
 it; I mean the railway, by which we had already travelled a 
 thousand miles from Calcutta, and which, had we been*disposed 
 to continue our journey, would have carried us right up to Lahore 
 without a pause. Now it brought us into the city of Shah-Jehan, 
 actually passing through his palace wall, and the picturesque old 
 five-arched bridge ; and almost touching the grand state-prison of 
 Selim Ghur. 
 
 Our first days in Delhi were spent just outside the walls of the 
 present city, in the luxurious camp of an old friend, whose work 
 involved such perpetual locomotion that his camp was literally 
 his home ; and a very cosy home it was, with large double-roofed 
 drawing-room tent and dining-room tent, and capital tents for 
 
AN INDIAN CAMP HOME. 
 
 203 
 
 friends. These formed one group, while our hostess’s sleeping 
 tent and nurseries were inclosed by a high canvas wall, within 
 which the merriest and rosiest little ones might play to their 
 heart’s content, and certainly they proved that their patriarchal 
 life agreed with them. The servants and cooking were established 
 somewhere in the background; while, under shadow of the trees, 
 a flock of forty camels browsed, or grunted or roared, as they felt 
 inclined. 
 
 The camp was pitched near the Cashmere Gate, a name recalling 
 brave deeds of daring in the terrible days of 1857. Our host had 
 himself served throughout that campaign, and beneath these very 
 walls had received such a wound, as had helped to stamp those 
 scenes indelibly on his memory. So, as we wandered together, 
 step by step over all that hard-fought ground, our thoughts could 
 not but revert to the terrible scenes of fighting and bloodshed 
 that had been here enacted, and in which we knew that he had 
 borne so gallant a part. 
 
 Here was the spot where a breach was effected in the walls ; here 
 a garden, now one tangle of roses and jessamine, where blood then 
 flowed like water. Behind us lay the great rocky ridge, a sort of 
 back-bone to the country, where on a commanding height the 
 British army lay encamped, like an avenging legion, ready to 
 sweep down upon the polluted city, and wash it free from the 
 stain of English blood, and from the un-utterable wickedness that 
 had so long lurked in its high places. 
 
 On that ridge of glorious memory we lingered in the cool of the 
 evening, looking down upon the beautiful city, whose clustering 
 domes and minarets, rising from the mass of rich green foliage, 
 seemed as though embosomed in coolest gardens; though in 
 truth it all looked hot and dry enough, as we drew nearer. 
 
 A tall monolith bearing date B.c. 300, was brought here from 
 Meerut, and marks the boundary of the British entrenchments; 
 where, through those long burning summer months, while the foe 
 raged without, and cholera within the camp, the Standard of 
 England still floated securely, in the sight of her foes, never to be 
 lowered, till it was transferred to the walls of the Great Mogul. 
 
204 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 In the wonderful calm and stillness of the short twilight, we 
 tried to picture the scenes that were here enacted, when from the 
 city at our feet, shells sometimes reached the very spot where we 
 stood ; and when treachery and death lurked on every side. Now 
 scarcely a sound stirred the silent air, though here and there we 
 could distinguish groups of women and little children, going on 
 their way in perfect security. 
 
 It was easier to recall that awful time, when we stood on the 
 drawbridge before the Cashmere Gate, one of the great gates in 
 the fortified wall by which the British troops had resolved to 
 enter the city. Lieutenants Salkeld and Home, R.E., led the 
 forlorn hope, whose work it was to blow up the gates. They 
 advanced calmly to almost certain death, bearing heavy powder- 
 bags on their heads. 
 
 The foe seem to have been paralysed by the audacity of the 
 proceeding, and eight or ten powder-bags had been safely laid 
 ere they recovered themselves sufficiently to fire. Salkeld fell 
 wounded on the drawbridge, and was laid in the ditch : two of 
 his sergeants fell back mortally wounded. Salkeld lingered a few 
 days, then died of his wounds. Home survived to fight and fall 
 at the blowing up of another fort, at Malaghur. But they had done 
 their work here, and done it well. A few seconds later, a terrific 
 explosion shook the mighty walls, and the massive gateway lay 
 shattered. Then the bugler sounded the advance, and, with a 
 loud cheer, the storming party marched in. 
 
 But a terrible day of hand-to-hand fighting still awaited the 
 troops; every house and every housetop was crowded with 
 thousands of desperate men. The heat from sun and fire was 
 so terrific that the troops were well-nigh overpowered. Their 
 wary foes had laid open tempting cellars, well stored with arrack 
 and the most intoxicating kinds of spirit. By command of 
 General Nicholson vast quantities of these were destroyed ; but 
 it was impossible to prevent the soldiers from, in some instances, 
 transgressing, and there is reason to fear that a terrible number 
 of those who touched and tasted the accursed thing fell easy 
 victims to the foe. 
 
THE PEACOCK THRONE. 
 
 205 
 
 All day long, every street and lane of the city resounded with 
 cries of conflict and of death, and the fearful din waxed louder 
 and louder. Ere nightfall the city was fairly conquered, and 
 the Great Mogul had fled with a handful of followers to seek 
 refuge in the tomb of one of his ancestors, leaving his palace in 
 the hands of the conquerors. But that day’s fighting cost England 
 upwards of a thousand menkilled and wounded, and sixty-six officers, 
 amongst whom was the brave General Nicholson, who was shot 
 while leading his troops through a narrow lane near the Lahore Gate. 
 
 Of the few followers who had accompanied the wretched old 
 King of Delhi in his flight, one proved a traitor and revealed his 
 hiding-place to Hodson and his Sikhs (the Guides, as they were 
 called). To him the miserable old man surrendered, and he was 
 taken back to his own palace, where he was formally tried, 
 and whence in due time he was sent to Rangoon and there died. 
 
 It has been noted as curious that almost the last act of the 
 last representative of the East India Company, should have been 
 thus to sentence the last Great Mogul, and heir of the House of 
 Timour, to be transported across the seas ; and that the trial 
 should have taken place in that very palace where, little more 
 than two hundred years previously, its first representatives stood 
 awed in the presence of his gorgeous ancestors, humbly 
 craving an audience from the magnificent being, whose Peacock 
 Throne, glittering with priceless gems, was among the marvels of 
 the East. 
 
 That throne was valued at upwards of 1,200,000L (according 
 to one authority 6,000,000/.). It was made by order of the 
 great Shah-Jehan, whose jewellers wrought upon it for seven 
 years. It was a golden throne incrusted with precious stones, 
 and overshadowed by a golden canopy fringed with pearls. At 
 the back of the throne were two jewelled peacocks with ex¬ 
 panded tails, the natural colours being produce*! by the lavish 
 use of rubies and sapphires, pearls and emeralds. In that 
 palace jewels were so abundant that they must have been of 
 small account. Even the Imperial umbrellas of gold-embroidered 
 crimson velvet were fringed with pearls, and the golden handles, 
 
206 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 which were eight feet high, were studded with diamonds. But 
 then the Oriental umbrella has a right to be gorgeous, inasmuch 
 as it is a recognised emblem of Royalty. For this reason in the 
 early days of “ The Company,” British ladies and gentlemen 
 were forbidden the use of an umbrella to shield them from 
 the blazing sun, when in presence of any mighty potentate. 
 
 The wonderful Peacock Throne disappeared after the Mutiny 
 and no one has ever found out what became of it. The miracle 
 was, that it should have escaped the wholesale plundering 
 which Delhi and the greater part of Hindoostan received 
 in 1738 when invaded by Nadir Shah with a vast army of 
 Persians and Georgians. A place is still shown in the main 
 street of Delhi, as the spot where for two whole days he sat 
 holding his drawn sword as a signal that his cruel hordes should 
 slay, without mercy, all whom they could find. The number 
 thus murdered was beyond calculation. 
 
 After this frightful massacre of the inhabitants, the cruel 
 conqueror, having plundered the city, set it on fire, and is said 
 to have climbed to the top of one of the highest minarets to 
 watch the scene. At the end of five months, he retired, carrying 
 with him, plunder to the value of twenty-four million sterling; 
 besides camels, horses, and elephants, without number. He also 
 carried away captive vast numbers of the most skilful workers in 
 wood and stone. 
 
 Before the country had rallied from this wholesale spoliation, 
 the Mahrattas, and then the Afghans, came to vex and plunder 
 the people, and to glean such ears as had escaped the rich 
 harvest of the Persians. 
 
 We stood in Shah-Jehan’s beautiful Hall of Audience, with 
 its colonnades and countless pillars of pure white marble, and 
 courts open to the deep blue sky. On the entrance are the 
 words which Moore has rendered famous—“ If there be an 
 Elysium on earth, it is here.” 
 
 Like most other fair things of earth, this paradise was all too 
 quickly polluted, till it became a very den of foulest wickedness, 
 where the world, the flesh, and the devil, ran riot undisturbed. 
 
SILVER STREET. 
 
 207 
 
 At the time of the Mutiny, besides troops and attendants of 
 every class, there were actually three thousand persons of the 
 blood royal living within the palace; who, for once, merged 
 their mutual hatred and plots one against the other, in one 
 common determination to wrest back from the English their 
 lost power and wealth, and utterly to exterminate the white 
 race. 
 
 Now all that princely mob has passed away, with its luxury 
 and its crime, and as we entered the Great Hall the deep silence 
 of those beautiful halls was only broken by the voices of work¬ 
 men, who in the coarsest fashion, were restoring with coloured 
 plaster the vacant spaces in the exquisitely inlaid marbles, 
 whence ruthless bayonets had contrived to dig out precious 
 stones, as from a mine. So firmly however were they embedded 
 that almost every gem seems to have been broken in the 
 attempt. 
 
 Here one most lovely little marble mosque (whose carved 
 pillars, arches, and roof, are alike dazzling by their spotless 
 purity,) recalls the beauty of Agra, as do also the baths, and 
 the delicate marble tracery in the Zenana. 
 
 Turning away from the palace, we loitered a while among 
 the tempting shops in the Chandnee Chouk, or Silver Street, 
 which is the main thoroughfare of the city, and the especial 
 quarter of the rich buniahs (merchants). It is a broad thorough¬ 
 fare, nearly a mile in length. Down the middle of the street 
 there is a raised canal of the clearest water, overshadowed by 
 large trees, whose grateful shade is to the people a boon well- 
 nigh as precious as the water itself. 
 
 The greater part of the canal is covered, and is only open here 
 and there, that the inhabitants may draw unlimited supplies. 
 The same priceless stream fertilises the city gardens and the 
 neighbouring fields. 
 
 Delhi is one of the few towns we saw which boasts of rather a 
 handsome English church, the white dome of which, appearing 
 over the Cashmere Gate, might be mistaken for a mosque, but 
 for the Gross on the cupola, on which the natives look with some 
 
20S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 awe, inasmuch as when, in the terrible days of 1857, shot and 
 shell flew round it like hail, and greatly damaged the roof, it 
 escaped all injury. The church was built by Colonel Skinner, 
 who having for forty years made India his home, had become so 
 liberal in his views that he simultaneously erected a very fine 
 mosque for the Mohammedans and a temple for the Hindoos, not 
 knowing on which to bestow his preference. However, a small 
 tablet in the church records that in his later hours he decided in 
 favour of Christianity. 
 
 He it was who raised the body of irregular horse bearing his 
 name. He was a brave officer, and much distinguished in the 
 wars of Lord Lake and Lord Hastings. He also seems to have 
 brought his arms to the assistance of divers native princes, and 
 altogether passed through a strangely chequered course of service. 
 He was a good type of a race of British officers which has died 
 out with the facilities of return to England; men who in course 
 of thirty or forty years forgot all difference of colour and of faith, 
 and took to themselves wives of the daughters of the land, 
 assimilating in their manners and customs to the people amongst 
 whom they lived, themselves becoming half Hindoo and half 
 Mohammedan. Hence in several idol temples we were shown 
 beautifully-wrought bells and other things, which the priests 
 affirmed had been presented by Europeans as thankofferings for 
 recovery from illness ! ! 
 
 One pleasant morning we started, as usual, at daybreak, the 
 air crisp and fresh on this January morning as on an English 
 May-day. We drove to the old palace, and through the grand 
 gateway, perhaps the strongest we had yet seen—arch beyond 
 arch of solid red sandstone, more like a huge tunnel than a 
 mass of building. We walked all along the great walls in 
 search of the best point from which to sketch the Jumma 
 Musjid, a magnificent mosque. That point we ascertained to 
 be the flat roof of a baboo's house, so an intimation was sent to 
 him that a great “ mem-sahib ” desired to honour him with her 
 presence. 
 
 The baboo, however, had gone into the city, but a bystander 
 
A NOVEL STUDIO. 
 
 209 
 
 offered me the use of his roof, if I could only get on to it. He 
 was a poor farrier, but a thorough gentleman, and did the 
 honours of his house admirably. He took me up his crazy 
 stairs to an upper court open to the'sky, off which opened 
 various small rooms. Then he placed his poor rickety charpoy 
 (bedstead) on end against the wall, that I might use it as a ladder. 
 I managed to scramble up, and there sat all the morning without 
 intrusion, my feminine presence being considered sacred. The 
 good man declined going to his work all that day, having had 
 so great a charge committed to him. We ventured to suggest 
 that he might depute that responsibility to his wife, but he scouted 
 the idea as preposterous—to think that she could look after 
 any article so important! So he sat patiently at the foot 
 of the ladder, hour after hour, till the sahib-logzi (gentlefolk) 
 came to reclaim their hostage, when he helped me to scramble 
 down again, and vowed that his roof had acquired a new 
 interest ! 
 
 Apart from the novelty of the studio, it always astonishes the 
 natives to see any one drawing or painting from nature. They 
 themselves paint exquisite architectural miniatures, but they 
 invariably say that the white men only photograph. Certainly 
 the intricacy of arches, domes, minarets, and cupolas involves 
 an amount of patience and care that few might be disposed to 
 give. 
 
 This grand mosque, and another very similar one (which, rising 
 from the brink of the river, has the additional charm of being 
 therein mirrored), are fluted with divers marbles. It stands on a 
 foundation of rock, and all the space around it having been 
 cleared for military purposes during the mutiny, it has the 
 advantage of being well seen. 
 
 An immense outer wall of red sandstone arches forms a quad- 
 rangle, at the four corners of which are towers, whose marble 
 domes rest on slim red pillars. At the three sides, immensely 
 wide flights of marble stairs lead up to three great gateways : the 
 central one, which faces the east, is so holy that only on great 
 feasts is it used. By these gateways you enter the usual great 
 
 r 
 
210 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 open court surrounded on three sides by long colonnades of red 
 sandstone. On the fourth side rise the arches of the mosque 
 itself, which also of course faces the east, so that the worshipper 
 as he enters may find himself looking towards the west, that is, 
 towards Mecca. 
 
 All is of the same deep-red stone inlaid with white marble, and 
 verses from tire Koran in huge letters in black marble. The 
 three great domes of white marble are fluted with black, and 
 carry the eye up to the glittering pinnacles ; the tall minarets are 
 fluted with red and white alternately, while every little turret is 
 crowned with a marble dome supported by red pillars. Add to 
 this a few green trees, a clear blue sky with fleecy white clouds, 
 and an atmosphere of balmy sunshine, and you have before you 
 a temple worthy of the name. 
 
 Strange (is it not ?) to think for how short a time the Moham¬ 
 medans held their sway in this land, and yet how quickly 
 they multiplied these grand buildings in every corner of the 
 country. It is said that this one alone cost Shah Jehan a sum 
 equal to 120,000/., and that was two hundred years ago, and in 
 India, where labour is a very cheap commodity even now. Cer¬ 
 tainly, if the Christians were driven out of India to-morrow, their 
 successors would find little to admire in their puny chapels of 
 brick and mortar, few and far between. The mosques are open 
 at all hours and seasons, that every passer-by may enter and 
 worship. So all day long you see a constant succession of men 
 going up to the temple to pray. They lay down their shoes and 
 their bundles beside them, and go through the ceremonial wash¬ 
 ings at the great marble fountain. Then, having prayed, they go 
 on with their day’s work. 
 
 Every good Mohammedan is bound to pray five times a day, 
 at dawn, at noon, in the afternoon, at sunset, and at night. Before 
 he ventures to pray, however, he must at least cleanse his hands, 
 his feet, and his face, for the Prophet has declared that “ Ablution 
 is the half of prayer.” If he cannot get water, especially running 
 water, wherewith to wash, he may rub himself with a little earth or 
 sand, which is also purifying. Then, bowing down with his face to 
 
THE HOUR OF PRAYER. 
 
 21 I 
 
 the ground, he lays his forehead in the dust. His prayer is accom¬ 
 panied with perpetual changes of posture ; perhaps if he is in a 
 great hurry, they occur eight or ten times in a minute. Sometimes 
 he stands with hands extended, repeating the ninety-nine attributes 
 of God ; then falling prone on the earth, covers his mouth with 
 his hands ; then kneels with hands laid palm to palm ; then raised 
 heavenward, while his body is bowed to earth, or curved backward, 
 but always facing Mecca. The bystander is very apt to look on 
 all this as mere formalism. Doubtless in many instances it is so, 
 for our dark brothers do not monopolise the virtues any more 
 than the vices. 
 
 But if you enter such a mosque as this on a Friday—the Mo¬ 
 hammedan Sabbath — at one o’clock, the hour of prayer, and look 
 down on that vast congregation of white-robed worshippers, going 
 through the moves with a precision that would reduce a rigid 
 Ritualist to despair, you will be forced to acknowledge that you 
 have never beheld a scene more solemn. There is room in that 
 great court for twelve thousand persons, and the whole of this 
 assemblage kneel, pray, prostrate themselves, rise again, stand up 
 with uplifted hands and heaven-turned faces, as though touched by 
 an electric spring. The great quadrangle is paved like a chess¬ 
 board in black and white marble, that every man may stand on 
 his own square, and that all may be equal. And overhead, the 
 broad, calm, blue sky is spread as the sole canopy. 
 
 Just before the service began, a kind old man took us up to a 
 small alcove in the great Mecca gateway, whence we might peep 
 into the mosque at the further side, and look down on the sea of 
 turbaned heads below. A few women knelt apart near the door¬ 
 way. The fact of their being there at all was of dubious propriety ; 
 moreover the teaching of Mahomet seems to have left it very un¬ 
 certain whether the prayer of a woman has any chance of reaching 
 heaven. However, the poor things would not lose that chance, 
 and, as they passed out, they gave alms of such things as they 
 had, to the miserable beggars who are always ready to be made 
 use of as stepping-stones heavenward. 
 
 Intensely interesting as was the comparatively modern city, there 
 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 was to us an irresistible fascination in the great desolate plain, 
 where beyond the walls of modern Delhi lie the stupendous ruins 
 of the past. A space of fully twenty-four square miles is thickly 
 strewn with colossal tombs, forts, public buildings,and other remains 
 of the once mighty city, where one proud dynasty after another 
 has left its little mark upon the earth, only to add one feature 
 more to that widespread desolation. 
 
 The ancient Hindoo name of the city was Indraprasth, but each 
 successive emperor bequeathed his own name to some great 
 portion of it. Thus on one rocky cliff stands the old Fort of 
 Togluck-abad (the city of Togluck), a mighty fortress built by the 
 emperor of that name ; now silent and deserted, not even a sign 
 of life round the beautiful white marble mosque so pure and 
 spotless that it positively gleams amongst the surrounding moun¬ 
 tains of red stone-work, which stretch away on every side, in 
 walls and towers so vast that they seem as though built by giant 
 hands of old. 
 
 The great walls which inclosed the palace of Togluck are 
 still traceable in places. They were once defended by seven 
 mighty forts, and fifty-two strong gateways gave access to the city. 
 The houses of the living have long since crumbled away, but 
 thousands of tombs still cover the dust of these turbulent princes 
 and their favourites. 
 
 One is pointed out as that .of the son of Togluck, who caused 
 his own father to be crushed to death, and who devised sundry merry 
 sports of the same class. It is recorded that his chief delight was 
 to go out with his warriors hunting his own peaceful people, and 
 bringing home their heads to mark his day’s sport! The gates 
 of his city are said to have been adorned with thousands of these 
 ghastly trophies ! ! 
 
 On the other hand, when in a generous mood, he would go 
 forth in state, followed by elephants loaded with precious coin, 
 w'hich was showered among the people as he passed : a backsheish 
 so liberal atoned for a good many heads, and so, his selection 
 of happy hunting fields was considered merely an imperial 
 eccentricity. 
 
MAJESTIC TOMBS. 213 
 
 So likewise was the pomp and solemnity with which, attended 
 by his whole court, he gave burial to one of his own teeth, over 
 which he erected a magnificent tomb ! 
 
 Another giant fort and mosque bear the name of Shere Shah, 
 an emperor of the Pathan or Afghan dynasty, and worthy of 
 honourable mention, as having done much to open up the 
 country and establish the security of all travellers and merchan¬ 
 dise. PI is reign was a short one. Five years after he had driven 
 the Emperor Hutnaioon from the throne he was himself deposed 
 by the great Akbar, son of Humaioon. Yet in those five years he 
 made roads of great extent, bordering them with trees that might 
 give a grateful shadow from the heat. At every stage he estab¬ 
 lished rest-houses—caravanserais wherein all travellers should be 
 entertained at the public expense. He built mosques for their 
 benefit, lest in travelling they should forget their devotions. He 
 also established relays of horses at short distances, so as to keep 
 up communication with every corner of his empire. 
 
 Feroze Shah is another of the emperors who has left many 
 memorials of his reign: fifty great sluices for irrigation, thirty 
 schools, twenty caravanserais, 100 palaces, five hospitals, forty 
 mosques, 100 bridges, 150 wells, and gardens without number, 
 are among the improvements ascribed to him. We turned aside 
 from the desolate plain and clambered up a rocky height to see a 
 great stone monolith which bears his name, though learned men 
 who have puzzled out its long inscriptions refer it to a far more 
 ancient date, namely, that of Asoka (b.c. 250), whose tall monolith 
 supporting a lion we noticed at Allahabad. 
 
 Our first expedition into the ancient city was to see the tomb 
 of the Emperor Humaioon, grandson of Mahomet, and father of 
 the great Akbar. These huge tombs are very much like the 
 mosques, minus the minarets, and instead of the invariable three 
 domes, they have generally one great central dome, and a cluster 
 of lesser ones. To realise the tomb of any Mohammedan of note 
 you must picture to yourself London’s great St. Paul’s converted 
 into marble, and set down in a great garden, with all the bars of 
 York piled into one, to act as gateway. Climb to the top of xmc 
 
214 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of these, and as far as your eye can reach, for a circle of twenty 
 miles, the whole plain is dotted with similar buildings, only varying 
 in size, material, and curve of the dome. Round each great man 
 are smaller domes, to his doctor, his ministers, and other favourites. 
 
 That of Humaioon is of white marble, and that of his barber is 
 of exquisite green enamel. It is too ponderous to make a good 
 picture by itself, so I wandered among the ruins in search of a 
 foreground, and found another tomb to another emperor, of the 
 Pathan dynasty, a cluster of tall pillars and arches, supporting a 
 nest of domes, all inlaid with encaustic tiles of every brilliant, met¬ 
 allic colour — green, blue, gold—fresh as if they had been the work 
 of yesterday. A few native huts beneath the dark trees supplied 
 the precious blue smoke, which is to an Indian picture what the 
 mist is to a Scotch one—invaluable. I found a perch on the top 
 of a neighbouring tomb, and there sat undisturbed for hours 
 overlooking that desolate plain, with its colossal ruins, and 
 specially noting one giant on the horizon—a mighty 
 minaret towering far above its fellows. This rvas the famous 
 Kootub. 
 
 The chief interest of Humaioon’s tomb dates from the mutiny, 
 when, as 1 before said, the miserable old king sought refuge here, 
 and finally gave himself up to Hodson. 
 
 But the wicked princes still remained in their hiding place, sur¬ 
 rounded by about 7,000 followers, the very scum of the earth. 
 Hodson returned with 100 of his Sikhs, and only one other officer, 
 Captain Macdonald. Riding in advance of his men, he coolly 
 commanded the rebels to pile their arms. The extraordinary 
 audacity of such an assumption of power must have strangely 
 over-awed these men, for without a word they obeyed, and the 
 arms were straightway carried to the city in cart-loads. It is said 
 that to assume more perfect composure, Hodson never took his 
 cigar from his lips. 
 
 Then commanding the princes to come forth, in the presence 
 of these 7,000 followers, he carried them prisoners towards 
 the city. But ere he reached it he seems to have feared a rescue, 
 and then and there shot them with his own hand — an action for 
 
MORE TOMES. 
 
 215 
 
 which he has been sorely blamed. But it is hard for men in times 
 of peace and safety to judge their fellows in sucli circumstances 
 as these. Suffice it to say that the dead bodies were laid, in the 
 great thoroughfare of the main street, on the very spot where their 
 hands are said to have been dyed in the blood of Englishwomen, 
 and their own followers, beholding the dishonoured corpses, 
 acknowledged the righteous retribution of Allah. 
 
 Not far from Humaioon’s tomb, and in the midst of desolate 
 ruins, and rubbish, and forsaken gardens, we came on the tomb of 
 Nizam-ud-deen, a very holy saint. I think of all the exquisitely 
 refined carving we had yet seen, this excelled. The pure white 
 marble screen round the sarcophagus with its fairy lattice-work, 
 and the delicate arches and pillars, are all covered with graceful 
 birds and butterflies, in spite of the Mohammedan prohibition 
 contained in the Koran which lies at the head of the grave. 
 The dome has a copper roofing with gilt pattern of flowers on 
 a deep-blue ground. 
 
 White-robed priests, whose life-work it is to keep the lamps 
 burning, have charge of this lovely tomb, and pray and read the 
 Koran aloud, that the dust of the saint may be refreshed by the 
 sound of holy words. The tomb is covered with rich stuffs 
 spangled with gold, and surmounted by a canopy of gorgeous 
 drapery, whence hangs a string of ostrich eggs. Fresh flowers are 
 continually scattered over this and the neighbouring tombs, several 
 of which lie near together, each in its own little court, inclosed in 
 a screen of marble lace-work, and overshadowed by cool foliage. 
 
 In one court lies the dust of the poet Chusero ; in the next, 
 beneath the green turf, sleeps Jehanari, the beautiful daughter of 
 Shah Jehan, who voluntarily shared his captivity, and after a life 
 of such purity and holiness as earned her a place among the Mo¬ 
 hammedan saints, desired on her death-bed that she might 
 be buried without pomp or splendour, as grass and flowers 
 were the only covering meet for the poor in spirit. 
 
 A little further is the beautiful marble tomb of one of her kins¬ 
 men, who died in the attempt daily to increase his capacity 
 for drinking cherry-brandy, in defiance of the Prophet! 
 
2l6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Close by is a large tank, one of those sacred bowlies or deep 
 wells, into which the natives are always anxious to make suicidal 
 leaps from frightful heights, for the smallest possible backsheish. 
 Some of those near the Kootub are of incalculable depth ; and 
 it is decidedly alarming as you stand in the dim twilight peering 
 down to the water far below you, suddenly to see a dark, naked 
 figure rush past, and, leaping feet foremost into the yawning abyss 
 below, disappear in the darkness, falling with dull splash into the 
 fathomless waters. Eventually he will regain the upper world by 
 a subterranean passage, and long flight of steps. These creatures 
 are regularly trained to their work, beginning as mere children to 
 leap from low stages, and gradually increasing in audacity. 
 
 Here and there, in the midst of this great desert of colossal 
 ruins, we came to a little cluster of huts, which, like all the houses 
 of the poor, consisted only of mud walls and straw thatch on a 
 framework of bamboo. The contrast between the perishable 
 dwellings of the living, and the massive tombs of the mighty dead 
 seemed strange indeed ; yet how poor soever a native may be, his 
 hut is invariably clean, being constantly plastered with fresh' coat¬ 
 ings of mud which dries quickly, leaving a shining surface. His 
 clay fire-place and clay settle are alike clean, so are his bright 
 copper or brass vessels, which are always brillantly polished. He 
 who is so poor that he cannot afford such metal-ware substitutes 
 the coarsest earthenware, which, however, he must break after 
 every meal, as he cannot clean it properly. In fact, he carries 
 into daily life that Levitical law of the sin offering which 1 com¬ 
 manded the breaking of the earthen vessels and the scouring of 
 brazen pots—hence the heaps of broken crockery near the very 
 poorest huts. You see here, as elsewhere, he who lacks capital 
 pays dearest in the long run. 
 
 Some, however, are content to use a green leaf for a plate, and 
 make lamps and drinking cups of gourds ; a couple of stones 
 as pestle and mortar, and a coarse mat and rickety charpoy, 
 complete the furniture of a Hindoo hut. 
 
 This enormous consumption of crockery entailed by perpetual 
 breakages of course keeps many a potter’s wheel at work, and I 
 1 Lev. vi. 23 . 
 
THE POTTER’S FIELD. 
 
 217 
 
 always found acertain attraction in watching the manufacture. The 
 lump of clay in the hands of the potter, moulding so obediently to 
 his will, recalled so many old Scriptural illustrations. And then 
 too, we were told, that “ the potter’s field, to bury strangers in ” is 
 a fact of the present day, for that, whenever a clay field has been 
 used up, it becomes a convenient burial-ground for Mohamme¬ 
 dans and others who prefer committing their dead to mother 
 earth, rather than to the flames. 
 
 Interesting, though very unpleasant objects, were certain mis¬ 
 erable fakirs (Mohammedans), whom we met prowling among the 
 tombs, like grim and ghastly ghouls—starved, shrivelled skeletons, 
 doing life-long penance in atonement for their sins, or striving to 
 heap up stores of merit, and craving alms from all passers-by for 
 the building of some temple, or the digging of some well, or other 
 pious work. 
 
 Like the Hindoo yogis, they have made a vow of the strictest 
 poverty ; they must eat only once a day of rice and vegetables, 
 and that sparingly ; no “ early ” breakfast, and “ heavy ” breakfast 
 for them, no tiffin, no five o’clock tea, no late dinner, no even¬ 
 ing tea and coffee ! They are bound to be indifferent alike to 
 cold, heat, and hunger; to the praise of men, and to their 
 reproach. And if, after all, they find it impossible thus to 
 master their natural being, they become more criminal than 
 ever by having embraced a life of holiness, of which they have 
 fallen short! 
 
 What can be the reason that in all ages and in all faiths, the 
 odour of sanctity seems to have been thus identified with un¬ 
 speakable filth? If it were only among savages, one could 
 understand it, but how Christians first came to set their cleanli¬ 
 ness and their godliness at opposite poles is a perpetual mystery. 
 Really, to read the lives of the old Christian saints, and see what 
 stress is laid on their unwashen clothes, and personal filth, their 
 matted hair, never even combed, their nails like talons, their 
 garments a sort of menagerie for all manner of creeping things, 
 does make one marvel at such strange developments of the 
 religious life. 
 
2 lS 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 As to these Indian saints, whether yogis or fakirs, Hindoos or 
 Mohammedans, you cannot imagine a more living picture of 
 squalid wretchedness than these poor creatures, whose sole 
 raiment (save an almost invisible rag) is their own filthy 
 mass of tangled hair, while their sole possessions are a hollow 
 gourd with which to draw water, and a miserable charpoy, i.e. 
 the light framework on which every one sleeps for fear of 
 serpents, and on which they squat under shadow of the sacred 
 peepul and banian trees. 
 
 Such picturesque old trees ! like great wide-spreading old oaks 
 with gnarled snake-like roots twisting in strange contortions, here 
 and there breaking through the carved stone-work of some old 
 temple on which the sunlight just glances, but the ruins are half 
 veiled by the brown fringe of beard-like filaments and trailing 
 fibres. The leaf of the sacred peepul somewhat resembles thatof our 
 own poplar, both in form and in its tremulous habit It quivers 
 ceaselessly like our aspen. Green pigeons and parroquets by 
 thousands hide among the foliage, and sometimes a company 
 of flying foxes hang head downwards from the upper branches, or 
 flap away on heavy wing, uttering querulous cries as if complaining 
 of our approach. 
 
 From time to time we noticed curious twin trees ; a date palm 
 growing out of the heart of a banian, or a peepul from an Indian- 
 rubber tree. These are sometimes of natural growth, sometimes 
 grafted by devotees, but in every case such tree-wedlock is held 
 by the Hindoo in deepest veneration. 
 
 On and on we drove over the wild desolate plain, and through 
 the sea of ruins—ruins on every side of us. Tombs and domes 
 literally without number, mighty walls and fortresses and innu¬ 
 merable mosques, gateways, wells and old gardens with shady 
 trees. 
 
 But what can have become of the habitations of the builders 
 is a continual source of wonder, for human dwellings are the one 
 thing conspicuous by their absence, and we can scarcely suppose 
 that these princes and nobles built their palaces of such very perish¬ 
 able materials as to account for their total disappearance. 
 
OBSERVATORIES OF STONE-WORK. 
 
 219 
 
 We wandered from one to another of the Cyclopean forts till 
 we were fairly exhausted, finding so much to admire, and to 
 wonder at. We especially marvelled at the giant observatory 
 built by Rajah Tey Sing, of Teypore, where every instrument is a 
 massive pile of masonry; instruments of which we neither knew 
 the name nor the use, but could only gaze in amazement at such 
 strange inventions of science. We saw a similar observatory at 
 Benares, and heard of three others, all attributed to the same 
 builder. 
 
 As the day drew on, we passed many picturesque groups of 
 veiled women and their brown children going to the wells to draw 
 water, or else to make their evening pooja(sacrifice) to some favourite 
 god—probably a hideous monster smeared with red paint to re¬ 
 present the offering of blood—set up under the nearest peepul tree, 
 each woman carrying a brass plate whereon are laid her simple 
 offerings, a brass cup with clear water to be poured over the 
 sacred image, a handful of rice, a little bright -coloured powder, 
 and a few flowers. The colour of the flowers and of the powder 
 depends on the object of worship. The monkey god and the 
 elephant-headed Ganesa, and Siva and his wife, prefer red, 
 but Vishnu and Krishna and their wives are honoured with yellow, 
 as is the case also in all western legends of sun-mythology. 
 
 Then, as the lengthening shadows of the great ruins vanished 
 with the setting sun, we returned to the hospitable camp, to a tent 
 home, scarcely more transitory than those vanished halls of the 
 emperors, over the total disappearance of which (the dwelling- 
 houses, I mean) we marvelled more and more. 
 
 There was a fascination about the wild silent desolation of the 
 great plain that attracted us irresistibly. So we resolved to take 
 up our quarters in the very heart of it, at the base of the mighty 
 Kootub, which is a stupendous minaret of red sandstone towering 
 like a giant above every other ruin near it ; here we found a very 
 comfortable dak-bungalow, a travellers’ rest-house, kept by a 
 shrivelled-up, little old man, who looked as though all life’s energy 
 had been fairly baked out of him. Nevertheless, he cooked for us 
 and made himself generally useful. 
 
220 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The place is not altogether one of spotless repute, inasmuch as 
 there is a village somewhere in the neighbourhood whose inhabi¬ 
 tants bear a very bad character, and are said to be consummate 
 thieves, as my sister and her husband had on a previous occasion 
 found to their cost ; their horses’ coats and those of the grooms 
 having been carried off in the night, while the latter slumbered 
 peacefully. However we got off scot free, and enjoyed ourselves 
 beyond measure. 
 
 Here, as at Futteypore-Sikri, every species of wild beast and 
 bird find refuge among the ruins, especially flocks of gorgeous 
 wild peacocks, green parrots and doves; deer and black partridge 
 are also abundant. So it is a Paradise for sportsmen as well as 
 artists. Only think ! game of all sorts and sizes, and no taking 
 out a gun licence, or fear of trespassing. You may wander about 
 alone the livelong day, perhaps flushing some peafowl which 
 glance like a flash of rainbow light as they vanish among the 
 dark trees; or you may startle an irate porcupine from his mid¬ 
 day siesta, or some sleepy owl which sits blinking in the gloom 
 of the ruins; but the chances are that you will never see a human 
 being, except, it may be, a poor goatherd trying to collect green 
 branches to keep his flock alive during the long drought; or else 
 some wild-looking camel driver, whose hungry charge are foraging 
 for themselves, cropping the foliage of the sweet babool trees. 
 
 The grand old city is now literally u a couching place for 
 camels.” They are stabled in some of the old tombs, as are also 
 flocks of quaint Indian goats, and sheep with long drooping ears. 
 The goats are wonderfully sensible creatures, almost as wise as 
 dogs. I saw one tumble into a large tank, a drop of eight or ten 
 feet. The water was very shallow, and the poor creature was on 
 his hind legs in a moment, crying for help. The goatherd vainly 
 tried to reach him, and at last went to fetch a rope w'ith a noose. 
 The goat seemed perfectly to understand his share of the busi¬ 
 ness, and, placing his fore-feet as high as he could reach, against 
 the wall, stood immovable while the noose was dropped over his 
 head, after which he allowed himself to be diawn up without one 
 struggle. 
 
ENCAUSTIC TILES. 
 
 22 I 
 
 Among minor details of animal life we noted great flights of 
 white butterflies, which seemed specially attracted by the 
 euphorbia bushes, which, however, were also haunted by pretty 
 pale green spiders, whose webs were apparently set as butterfly- 
 traps. But, though some fell victims, most of the white-winged 
 darlings floated away in tremulous clouds like snow flakes. 
 
 As we wandered on, every turn revealed some new ruin, 
 tempting us to explore further some tomb whose enamelled 
 tiles appeared more brilliant than all we had yet seen—bronze 
 tiles and violet tiles, some silvery, some like burnished gold, 
 others the most brilliant azure, or glittering green, crimson or 
 salmon colour. They are generally used in external decoration, 
 being set in regular patterns round many of the domes. But 
 here and there in the old gardens we came on open halls or 
 kiosks, the interior of which was all thus adorned, well-nigh as 
 perfect as the day it was finished. 
 
 And far overhead, its top reaching up to heaven, towers the 
 stupendous Kootub-Minar, probably the most gigantic minaret 
 in the world. If the Taj is the embodiment of purity and 
 loveliness, this surely is the very type of power and grandeur. I 
 never before felt oppressed by any human work, but this pon¬ 
 derous giant seems to awe one. 
 
 I suppose the feeling is only due to its huge size, for so far from 
 possessing any beauty of form, it resembles a Cyclopean red 
 telescope, divided into five sections by four great projecting 
 balconies. There was a sixth section, which v 7 as taken down, as 
 being unsafe. Its height is now 240 feet; it was then 250. Its 
 diameter at the top is thirteen feet; at the base forty-nine feet. 
 The three lower sections of the pillar are fluted. One section 
 has angular flutings, another round flutings, a third angular and 
 round alternately. The topmost sections are smooth, and inlaid 
 with white marble. 
 
 From the base to the summit broad bands of writing, several 
 feet in depth, run round the pillar. These inscriptions, which are 
 in high relief and edged with delicate carving, are in the Kufic, 
 that is, the ancient Arabic character, setting forth the praises of 
 
222 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 divers emperors, together with quotations from the Koran, and 
 the ninety-nine attributes of God. The inscriptions on the base 
 are to Mohammed Ghori and to his successor, Kootub-ud-deen ; 
 that on the top to a later sovereign, Altamah. One sentence 
 sets forth that “In the name of God the most merciful, the Lord 
 invites to Paradise, and brings into the way of righteousness, 
 whosoever is willing to enter.” Another sentence declares that 
 
 “Ivootub ud-deen, on whom be the mercy of God, constructed 
 this mosque.” 
 
 Now Kootub ud-deen, “ the Pole-star of religion ” was originally 
 a slave, brought from Turkestan, and purchased by Mohammed 
 Ghori, who was the first of the Pathan or Afghan emperors. In 
 
KOOTUB-UD-DEEN ” THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 223 
 
 his service Kootub rose to the rank of a general, and succeeded 
 his master on the throne. In the year a.d. 1193 he conquered 
 Meerut and Delhi, and here established his seat of government. 
 After tire manner of the Mohammedans, he converted all Hindoo 
 temples into quarries for the building of mosques, and the native 
 tradition declares that this great pillar was among the ancient 
 work so transformed. 
 
 The Hindoos believe it to have been built by a king in remote 
 ages to gratify his favourite daughter, who, by ascending to its 
 summit, might, while she worshipped the rising sun, behold its 
 first gleam glittering on the sacred waters of the Jumna. They 
 say that round the column were carved figures in bas-relief, 
 illustrative of Hindoo mythology, and that these were artfully 
 transformed into Arabic characters, and thus appropriated by 
 Kootub. They point out that the rich carving below the 
 balconies consists of clusters of bells and other symbols, 
 essentially Brahminical, and never used by the Islamites. 
 
 Moreover the door faces north like those of the Hindoo 
 temples, while the Mohammedans of India always face the east, 
 that the worshipper on entering may look westward to Mecca. 
 The Mohammedans invariably build their minarets close to a 
 mosque and on a platform. This, like the Hindoo towers, has 
 no platform, nor any trace of a mosque (though that, of course, 
 may have vanished, as well as the palaces of the emperors). It 
 is known that when Tamerlane invaded Hindoostan, some 
 building stood here which struck him as so perfect that he 
 carried a model of it to Samarcand, and took with him Delhi 
 masons to build one similar for his capital. 
 
 Now all worshippers, Mohammedan and Brahmin, have alike 
 passed away; the glorious ruins are deserted, and the peerless 
 pillar stands majestic in its grand solitude. One magnificent 
 fragment of some ruin is a wall eight feet thick, covered with 
 graceful flowered tracery and pierced by tall pointed arches. 
 Just beyond stands one great domed building which above 
 all others fascinated us by the rare beauty of its exquisite 
 
 carving. 
 
224 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 It was built by Akbar as a college where his wise men might 
 meet for discussions. Being open on all sides, it acts as a great 
 gateway, and from its position, so near the giant minaret and the 
 old Hindoo pillars, it seems as if purposely built as a magnificent 
 portal to that court of rare art-work. Its four sides are alike— 
 deep-red sandstone inlaid with white marble, and covered from 
 the base to the summit with rich tracery standing out in bold 
 relief. From each side you enter by a flight of steps beneath a 
 tall Gothic arch, edged with beautifully-chiselled dog-tooth 
 pattern, which I did not observe on any other building. Your 
 eye passes from the intensely warm depth of maroon and claret- 
 coloured shadow of the interior to the dazzling blue of the sky 
 seen through the dog-tooth arch opposite. Over every inch of 
 the interior the same wealth of carving is lavished in endless 
 variety of geometrical patterns, standing out in bold relief, and 
 in utmost refinement of execution. Nothing but photography 
 could convey an idea of its richness of detail, and it would lack 
 the charm of warm delicious colour. 
 
 A few steps further we came to long colonnades with endless 
 rows of beautifully-carved Hindoo pillars, chiefly ornamented 
 with bells, but of infinite variety. Though all these columns 
 bear precisely the same character, every one is different in design, 
 showing an amazing fertility of invention. Of these there still 
 remain sever-al hundred, but the people say there were originally 
 upwards of a thousand, the spoil of divers Hindoo temples, 
 the materials of which were thus appropriated by the 
 Islamites. 
 
 This theory of amalgamation would sufficiently account for the 
 utter lack of repose in these strangely grotesque pillars, among 
 which the eye wanders, but can never rest, or shake off a feeling 
 of confusion as though perplexed by some troubled dream. But 
 the same thing is true of every Hindoo building I have ever 
 seen, and forms a notable contrast with the grand simplicity and 
 harmony of Mohammedan architecture. It seems as though the 
 monotheistic faith of the latter must needs declare itself in the 
 unity of design which gives such sublimity to all their great 
 
THE IRON PILLAR. 
 
 225 
 
 mosques; whereas the intricate and grotesque confusion of the 
 Hindoo temples seems but a reflex of the labyrinthine mysteries 
 of their mythology. 
 
 One thing worthy of note in these long colonna'des is that they 
 are surmounted here and there by small domes; ugly enough 
 compared with the thousand beautiful domes dotted over the 
 plain, but full of interest when you remember that to these 
 Hindoos the arch was unknown, so the domes were formed by 
 nicely posed layers of stone, laid horizontally. 
 
 I greatly fear that to any one, not having the beautiful reality 
 before their mind’s eye, all these descriptions of mosques, tombs, 
 and gateways must become very wearisome. I keep continually 
 thinking of a Scotchman’s comment on a very lengthy sermon 
 descriptive of the broad and narrow gates : “ Eh ! he was fully 
 stawsome about the yetts ! ” 1 but really I do not know how else 
 to convey to your mind any notion of these wonderful cities. 
 
 But before passing on, I must first tell you about an extra¬ 
 ordinary iron pillar, which stands near the base of the Kcotub; 
 and to which the city owes its modern name. It is a solid shaft 
 of metal, sixteen inches in diameter; it stands twenty-two feet 
 above ground, but there seems to be a difference of opinion 
 among engineers as to the depth to which the shaft is buried. 
 One declares its base to be twenty-six feet below ground, while 
 another maintains that it only extends a few feet, and terminates 
 in a bulb like a turnip. In either case, it will ever be a marvel 
 how such a massive column could have been produced at a 
 single forging, and that so early as the third century of our era. 
 It certainly would puzzle our own ironmasters to rival such 
 work without the aid of their modern steam-machinery—a 
 power which we can scarcely imagine to have lent its might to 
 these Vulcans of old. 
 
 It is wrought like our finest metal, and shows no symptom of 
 rust, though it has stood here for many centuries. It bears an 
 inscription in Sanscrit, describing it as tire “triumphal pillar of 
 Rajah Dhava, a.d. 310, who wrote his immortal fame with his 
 1 Eh ! but he was wearisome about the gates ! 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 sword.” This however, is the only record extant of his deeds. 
 There are several other inscriptions on the pillar, but of more 
 modern date. 
 
 The Brahman tradition is, that this pillar was erected in the 
 sixth century, after the stars had pointed out the auspicious 
 moment. It went so deep that it pierced the head of the 
 serpent god Schesnag, who supports the earth. The priests told 
 the Rajah that thus his kingdom should endure for ever. But, 
 like a child gardening, he could not be satisfied till he dug it up 
 again, just to see if it were so, and sure enough the end was 
 covered with blood. Then the priests told him that his dynasty 
 would soon pass away. He planted the pillar again, but the 
 serpent eluded his touch, and the pillar was thenceforth unsteady. 
 So the priests called the name of the place Dhilli (unstable) and 
 prophesied all manner of evil concerning the Rajah, who shortly 
 afterwards was killed, and his kingdom seized by the Moham¬ 
 medans, and since then, no Hindoo has ever reigned in Delhi. 
 
 Nevertheless, the pillar is now firm as a rock, and has even 
 resisted the cannon of Nadir Shah, who purposely fired against 
 it. The marks of the balls, are, however, clear enough. The 
 Hindoos believe that so long as this column stands, the kingdom 
 has not finally departed from them. 
 
 Now I have given you enough and to spare of dry detail, but 
 you must picture for yourself the delight of our gipsy life among 
 the ruins. How the long days slipped by; sometimes explor¬ 
 ing, sometimes drawing ; wandering from one deserted garden 
 to another, sometimes among rocks, sometimes on arid plains, 
 but almost always in utter solitude and silence, only broken 
 by the tinkling bells of some long string of camels, whose 
 great flat feet fell so noiselessly on the earth, that, but for 
 the bells, we should scarcely have noticed their approach. 
 Occasionally, a noisier chime reached us from the neighbouring 
 village, where one of the temples has a peal of eighty-four bells, 
 all rung by one single rope. 
 
 But the crown of delight was when at early dawn we gazed up 
 at the mighty pillar of fire, towering to the very clouds; its 
 
THE KOOTUB MINAR. 
 
 227 
 
 summit glowing in the sun’s first rays, long before the purple 
 shadows of night had faded from the base. Then we sometimes 
 climbed that long spiral flight of well-nigh four hundred steps, 
 
 TIIE KOOTUB MINAR, DELHI. 
 
 that, like the Hindoo princess, we might catch the first gleaming 
 light on the Jumna, and gaze far away over the vast, silent 
 plain. 
 
 Q 2 
 
22 S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 And when the evening drew on, we took up a position within 
 hail of the bungalow, lest any stragglers from the village should 
 molest us; sometimes we sat on a curious old ruined pyramid, 
 near the base of a second huge pillar, which, had it ever been 
 completed, would have been far more gigantic than its brother, 
 but was very early given up and left unfinished. Thence we 
 could watch the red gold of sunset flood the plain, and once 
 more transform the red stone column into a glowing pillar of 
 orange fire. And as “ the serpents of night ” crept upward, the 
 fire fled heavenward, till at last it vanished, and a solemn hush 
 and silence told that the day was done. 
 
 The only sound that broke that great stillness was a faint chaunt 
 from a Hindoo temple, so mellowed by distance, that it sounded 
 something between a Latin litany and a Gaelic hymn. It came 
 as a dreamy suggestion of some evening service at home, and 
 we listened and lingered, till the mighty giant before us towered 
 solemn and black against a deep-blue sky, lighted only by a 
 young crescent moon with her train of glittering stars. Then in 
 the waste wilderness around, the voices of the night began to 
 awaken; weird cries of jackals; plaintive wails and unearthly 
 laughing. We bethought us of the leopards which might be 
 lurking at our very feet, and with all due speed, retreated to 
 safer quarters. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MEERUT. 
 
 Life in a Military Station—The Old Church-yard—A Steadfast Elephant— 
 The Bazaar—Itinerant Tradesmen—Jugglers—Snakes—Native Servants 
 —War of Words, not Blows—Hindoo and Mohammedan Festivals— 
 Monkeys—-Sketching in Public—The Roast Beef of Old India—Cathedral 
 at Sirdhana—The Begum Somroo. 
 
 We found our gipsy life in Old Delhi so thoroughly enjoyable 
 that we sorely regretted when the time came to settle down to 
 civilised life at Meerut. Nevertheless it was very pleasant, after 
 some experience of Indian hotels and rest-houses, to find 
 ourselves again at home —in an unknown country certainly, but 
 with an unmistakably home-like feeling about the pretty drawing¬ 
 room, with its comfortable sofas and arm-chairs, and fresh, bright 
 chintz curtains, and crimson and white purdahs 1 draping all the 
 unsightly doors, which form such a conspicuous feature of every 
 Indian room. 
 
 In the cool shade stand quaint Indian vases of some silvery 
 metal, with delicious nosegays of roses and orange-blossoms and 
 all manner of sweet flowers, which the mail (gardener) brings in 
 fresh each morning. If you have any doubts of their being the 
 produce of your own garden, you need ask no questions; nobody 
 does so. So long as your table is duly supplied with vegetables, 
 and your vases with flowers, you may rest satisfied. The malts are 
 supposed to have a system of exchange or black-mail, and the 
 
 1 Portieres. 
 
230 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 best servant is he who best forages for his master. Indeed some 
 maintain that the best system of all is to keep a gardener and no 
 garden ! 
 
 Meerut is a purely military station, and has therefore little of an 
 essentially native character to mark it. It is far from any river, 
 and its situation is altogether hideous. It was selected in olden 
 days as an advantageous spot to concentrate a strong European 
 force wherewith to overawe Delhi, only forty miles distant; for it 
 had been stipulated in one of our treaties with the Moguls, that 
 no British infantry or cavalry or European troops whatsoever 
 should ever be quartered in the imperial city or its immediate 
 neighbourhood. Consequently, the whole town is modern, having 
 no buildings of any especial interest. The cantonments are divided 
 into four sections, namely the infantry, native cavalry, hussar, and 
 artillery lines. The European quarters consist of innumerable 
 bungalows, each standing quite apart from its neighbours in its 
 own compound, which may be field or garden, shady or bare, 
 according to the taste of some previous inhabitant. 
 
 Happily that taste has generally inclined to shade, so that all 
 the pointed thatch roofs, and white or green verandahs (the houses 
 are only one story high), are veiled by abundant greenery, and a 
 fair show of flowering creepers, and the general effect of the 
 town is pretty enough. Of course where each house and shop 
 has so large a compound, the town straggles over a very large 
 space, and a call at the other end of the station is quite a 
 morning’s work. The social mechanism of India has one 
 peculiarity in this matter of visiting, namely, that the new comer 
 must call first. Hence the remark of an Anglo-Indian lady— 
 “country-bred” as the phrase goes—about to visit Britain for the 
 first time, that as soon as ever she reached London she “intended 
 to invite all the station to dinner ! ” The story reminded me of a 
 certain dear old lady—one of my earliest friends—who drove her 
 own carriage and horses all the way from Forres to London, and 
 as she neared the city bade her coachman drive into town the back 
 way, as she did not wish to meet people that evening! 
 
 In so fluctuating a society as that of India, this arrangement 
 
“THE PESTILENCE THAT WASTETH AT NOON-DAY." 23 I 
 
 of first calls is really a very kindly institution, supposed to admit 
 the stranger at once to the full swing of social life, or else, should 
 he prefer solitude, to the full enjoyment thereof. It also allows 
 people time to shake into their new houses before being molested 
 by visitors, and this, in a country where a change of home is of 
 such frequent occurrence, is a decided advantage. 
 
 On the other hand it is very overwhelming to receive a list of 
 the inhabitants, all utter strangers, and, without any knowledge of 
 their various peculiarities and endless “cliques,” to go the round 
 of the station, knowing that should any one be accidentally 
 omitted, it would be a cause of most dire offence. Of course, 
 once this grand round has been accomplished, you are at liberty 
 to select as limited a circle of friends as you please out of the 
 mass of acquaintances. 
 
 The most absurd thing is, that the hours of calling are from 
 twelve till two, the only time of the day, during the cool season, 
 when it is unpleasant to leave the shade of your own verandah ; 
 and very few ladies have as yet found strength of mind to break 
 through this custom, and institute undisturbed forenoons and 
 social afternoons. Consequently the old definition of morning 
 callers as “ the pestilence that wasteth at noonday ” is rigidly true. 
 
 After these ceremonious visits, some of your more intimate 
 friends will probably drop in to tiffin, and remain chatting till the 
 hour for the evening drive; and as another batch of friends 
 probably looked in after the early morning ride, it follows that the 
 whole day is more or less cut up by perpetual small-talk.; and 
 some churlish spirits there are who, wearying of this pleasant, 
 easy society, are sometimes tempted to wish that people would 
 inflict le:s of their idleness on one another. The real grievance, 
 you see, lies in the mid-day calls, a grievance kept up by the 
 genuine old Anglo-Indian, who adheres so inflexibly to the old 
 custom, that after 2 p.m. he considers your visit quite a matter of 
 ignorance or incivility—if, indeed, he admits you at all. More 
 frequently the white-robed attendants have orders to dismiss all 
 comers with the curt announcement of “ darwaza band ”—“ closed 
 door.’ 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The expenditure of pasteboard on these occasions is very 
 great, as, owing to the native mispronunciation of names, it is 
 always considered necessary to herald your entrance to the house 
 even of intimate friends by sending in your card, which, having 
 been duly inspected by the lady of the house, results in her 
 either sending you her salaam, which is equivalent to a welcome, 
 or else, by that metaphorical closing of the door, you are dismissed, 
 after waiting some minutes in an open carriage under a grilling 
 sun. 
 
 The only persons who are exempt from the law of making the 
 first call, and indeed from the necessity of returning any, are the 
 governors of provinces and their families. But as we passed 
 through the various large towns we found a curious social war 
 raging here and there. It had occurred to the wives of a few men 
 holding high offices that, as their husbands are mentioned in the 
 public services of the Church in the same clause as the governors, 
 they were of course entitled to the same social homage. This 
 being by no means the opinion of the other ladies of the commu¬ 
 nity, a ludicrous schism ensued, which, in the lack of more worthy 
 matter, proved a fertile subject for conversation and dispute. 
 
 In the mother country, we had so often heard many dis¬ 
 paraging remarks upon Indian society that it was like a glimpse of 
 a world not realised to find, wherever we halted, so large and so 
 very pleasant a colony of kind and agreeable Britons, bearing the 
 well-known names of every good family in the United Kingdom, 
 in fact, the younger sons and brothers of all who constitute good 
 society at home ; the chief perceptible difference between the two 
 being that in the one case both bread and position have invariably 
 been earned by hard labour, while in the other they have generally 
 been inherited ; and I am not sure that the advantage lies wholly in 
 the scale of inheritance. 
 
 As a matter of course, honour and precedence are likewise 
 things to be earned, so that the rank which a man holds as his 
 birthright is set aside as a mere accident, social position being 
 determined by office or length of service, and consequent wealth. 
 Everybody knows to a fraction how many rupees per month 
 
SOCIAL BICKERINGS. 
 
 233 
 
 every one else draws, and both breadwinner and family take rank 
 accordingly, not only among their equals, but in the estimation 
 of the natives, who, aided by the rulers of the household and 
 house-keeping, do all that in them lies to make a man’s expenditure 
 advance with his income. 
 
 Foremost among the oft-repeated charges brought against social 
 life in India are those which tell of incessant broils and bickerings 
 as the inevitable result of the fiery climate. I doubt, however, 
 whether the sunny East has any monopoly of these amusements, 
 or whether the Western “ pot ” has any right to revile the Eastern 
 “kettle” on that score. “Fulness of bread, abundance of 
 idleness, and neglect of the poor,” do their work pretty much 
 alike everywhere; and there are few country towns or small 
 social cliques in Britain that could not tell the same tale of how 
 (not only in the case of mistresses, and servants, but even of 
 gushing friends) the angels of one year are the devils of the next, 
 and the whitest swans are proved to be the greyest geese. I 
 suppose it is a natural result of the exceedingly intimate social 
 life which some one has so well described as “ living under a 
 microscope.” 
 
 During our stay at Meerut we were very fortunate in the 
 position of our bungalow, being on the edge of the Maidan, or 
 common—a wide open space where all the troops exercise, and 
 where field-days and large reviews are held, generally in the 
 early morning, when batteries of artillery pour their volleys, and 
 skirmishing parties gallop about the Flindoo villages, to the extreme 
 disgust and awe of the natives. The Native Cavalry and our 
 own Horse Artillery are very picturesque ingredients; the former 
 of course have British officers, whose rich puggarees (turbans) are 
 the only exceptions to the thick helmet of white linen worn by all 
 our English troops. The Highlanders seem to be the only men 
 proof against sunstroke, adhering steadfastly throughout the 
 winter months to their feather bonnets, though the heavy mass of 
 black must draw heat frightfully, and of course gives no shelter to 
 neck or face. In summer, however, even they are driven to w'ear 
 the invariable white helmet. Except during the few winter months 
 
2 34 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 all the troops come out in white uniform, and very clean they look, 
 not to say glaring. 
 
 There is a very large church, always crowded, and the first 
 thing that arrests the eye fresh from England is the enormous 
 preponderance of men, the women being a mere handful. The 
 services are very short—litany and sermon, or morning prayer 
 and sermon, on alternate Sundays, being the general allowance for 
 which the mass of the congregation assembles. This is in con¬ 
 sequence of a pleasant fiction about heat, although these winter 
 months are really only like our own summer, and the wide-open 
 windows keep the interior of all buildings so cool that punkahs 
 are not required, nor do we suffer from the stuffiness and bad 
 air too common in European churches. 
 
 When the real summer heat begins, the troops march to 
 church on Sunday or to drill on week-days at 5 a.m., and be¬ 
 fore 7 a.m. must all be shut up for the day in their several 
 quarters, with native servants to do all needful work. Very 
 tedious these long days must be, in darkened rooms, under the 
 incessant monotonous swing of the punkah ; every breath of the 
 scorching air from the furnace outside jealously excluded, except 
 such as enters through screens of fragrant cuscas grass, on which 
 water is incessantly thrown, and the rapid evaporation produces 
 some coolness. 
 
 The “Therm-antidote,” which consists of great fans of the 
 same grass, set like a wheel, so as to revolve rapidly, is another 
 means to the same end, and woe be to the careless attendant 
 whose weary hand slackens at his work. There are not lacking 
 instances in which half a dozen men have been found dead in 
 one morning in barracks from heat apoplexy, owing to th apmikah- 
 wallah yielding to the soporific monotony of his work. Not that 
 he is himself exempt from danger. One gentleman told me 
 that the previous summer, turning suddenly round to revile the 
 idle hand that had ceased its work, he perceived that the man lay 
 dead, with the rope in his hand. 
 
 These being the conditions under which the English in the 
 plains must gasp through the weary summer, with friends and 
 
IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 235 
 
 acquaintances on every side sun-smitten, or fever-stricken, it is 
 little wonder that the crowded church-yards tell so dire a tale of 
 quick mortality. 
 
 As I now write, there pass before my mind visions of a mul¬ 
 titude of kindly faces of those who were so recently my com¬ 
 panions in those pleasant days; those who have shared our 
 wanderings and our mirth, young brides and young soldiers, sailors 
 and civilians, bright young girls or careworn mothers, and children 
 without number, all passed away; and the stream of life has 
 flowed on, and their absence has scarcely been noticed even in 
 the little circle of changing Indian society. 
 
 Nothing strikes a new comer with such amazement as the 
 apparent apathy with which these tidings of sudden deaths are 
 received. You inquire for the friend of last week, the belle of 
 that ball, the winner of the last race, and the answer commonly 
 enough is, “Buried this morning. Taken ill yesterday after¬ 
 noon, and only lived a few hours.” Most probably unconscious 
 all the time. One instance I know of a man who attended his 
 commanding officer’s funeral in the morning, and was himself 
 buried at noon. Another day, two young officers started 
 together for a morning in the jungle. They were to meet at 
 breakfast time. One duly returned, but becoming anxious 
 about his comrade, started in search of him. He found him 
 lying in a nullah, dead. One ray of “the Life-giving Sun ” had 
 been the swift messenger to call him home. Again and again 
 the orderly in going from barracks to the officers’ quarters has 
 been stricken down in a moment, and all the Bheesties in the 
 neighbourhood have been at work hour after hour pouring 
 mussocks of cold water over him, to restore him to consciousness! 
 or allay the agony of a brain on fire; a fire which Death in very 
 pity so often cools by laying his own chill hand on the throbbing 
 brow. 
 
 Should the victim be an officer, or the holder of any appoint¬ 
 ment worth having, the prospect of promotion—a step gained —or 
 the speedy applications for the vacant post, generally seem to be 
 the uppermost thought. And all this time the gay life of the 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 236 
 
 place goes on with as little interruption as though we were in 
 the great whirl of London itself, where nobody expects to be 
 missed, even for a day. 
 
 Close by the church at Meerut is the great uncared-for church¬ 
 yard, where many an exile in this Indian land has found his last 
 rest. It is scarcely seventy years since the first was laid there, 
 and now it covers nearly five acres of ground; a wilderness of 
 forgotten dead, whose tombs, old or new, are already half in 
 ruins. They are mostly built of brick and mortar, and covered 
 with white plaster, which soon yields to time and climate. Here 
 in regular rank and file, sleeps an army of several thousands of 
 England’s sons, slain by no visible foe; victims of a climate 
 created for another race—a race who love the sun, and delight in 
 lying down to sleep with its full rays pouring on their unturbaned 
 heads. 
 
 In one corner a line of several hundred tombs lying in file 
 three deep, marks the graves of the Cameronians, decimated by 
 fever. Then a vast number of the Buffs who died of cholera. 
 The men of each regiment lie together. The infantry in one 
 body, the cavalry in another, the artillery beyond. Civilians 
 keep aloof in death as in life. Farther off, in the children’s 
 corner, sleep countless little ones. Here, in one tomb, sleep two 
 hot-headed boys, who fought a duel to decide a dancing question, 
 and both fell mortally wounded. Beyond lies the once beautiful 
 cause of their quarrel, she having fevered and died of grief. 
 
 Long ago, an old soldier used to have charge of many of these 
 tombs, and had touching stories to tell of those whom he had seen 
 buried there. One of the first laid in the new church-yard was a 
 fair young wife, to whose grave, through forty long years, her 
 faithful husband returned at intervals; twice he came all the way 
 from England to spend a day or two alone beside the love of his 
 youth. There were other tombs that told no such tale of constancy. 
 One was a ruined heap of red sandstone and marble, the unfinished 
 monument to a lady so sorely mourned that her husband had to 
 be carried by force from the church-yard. He brought materials 
 from Delhi and Agra to do her honour, but before the costly 
 
A MUSIC-LOVING SNAKE. 
 
 237 
 
 tomb was half finished, the noisy grief had expended itself. A 
 new queen reigned, so the memorial to the dead was left half 
 finished ! 
 
 The old soldier had a strange companion in the church-yard, 
 namely, a huge cobra capella, with which he had lived on terms 
 of intimate friendship for thirteen years. He gave as his reason 
 for never molesting him, that on one occasion, when a native 
 came by night to steal the iron railing placed round a newly- 
 made grave, this snake bit and killed the thief. But when the 
 old man worked at his tombs, and sang his low songs the while, 
 the snake would crawl out of his hole and bask in the sun, lying 
 coiled up and quite still, charmed by “ Kathleen Mavourneen,” 
 and various old English ballads. Old Mortality was murdered in 
 the Mutiny, and the further history of his cobra is not on record. 
 
 One thing which strikes a new comer as somewhat singular, is 
 the extremely simple law of chaperonage. It seems to be quite 
 the thing for the prettiest young girls to accept horses and escort 
 from any gentleman, and ride or drive with them wheresoever and 
 whensoever they please ; and though Mrs. Grundy is bitter enough 
 on most occasions, she is pleased to sanction this convenient 
 arrangement to any extent. 
 
 Among the anomalies of Indian life in the stations is the hour 
 of daily driving. After having devoted the two most dangerous 
 hours (twelve to two) to the great business of making calls, it is 
 considered unsafe to venture out for mere pleasure till just at 
 sunset, when all beauty, animate and inanimate, is alike invisible, 
 and people drive up and down in the dusk like owls, hardly able 
 to distinguish their dearest friends, still less to profit by the 
 elaborate toilets that are considered essential for an appearance 
 on the Mall. Then comes the drive to dinner, and this also 
 seems curious at first. Evening dress and wreath in an open 
 carriage, in the months which we call winter; returning home in 
 the clear moonlight, or by the flashing sheets of lightning, while 
 the air is fragrant with Eastern blossoms. 
 
 As concerns the out-of-door varieties of so-called amusements 
 in the various stations, they struck me, as an outsider, as being 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 2 3 S 
 
 more wofully dull than any phase of sad pleasure I ever wit¬ 
 nessed in the mother country. The man who said that life would 
 be endurable but for its amusements must certainly have had a 
 good spell of India ! The daily drive along the Mall, and the bi¬ 
 weekly halt around the band-stand, when all the people sit still in 
 their carriages without an attempt at amalgamating, looking un¬ 
 utterably bored ; or the archery meetings, when each carriage-load 
 marches with business-like precision direct to the spot assigned to 
 it, never to move thence till the game is over ; and worst of all, 
 the deadly-dull races, at which no one seems to get up any en¬ 
 thusiasm, except in the rare instance where the rider is so popular 
 personally as to compel some interest! The chief excitement 
 always seemed to be among the native spectators, who dearly 
 love anything in the shape of horse-racing. 
 
 To me there was infinitely more satisfaction in going to see the 
 wise commissariat elephants at work or at dinner. It was a 
 never-ending surprise to see the matter-of-fact way in which each 
 huge beast accepted its portion of enormous chupatties 1 and a 
 small mountain of sugar-cane and other trifles, and how soon the 
 whole disappeared. 
 
 One day a native gentleman, who had made acquaintance with 
 some of our party on the hunting field, invited us to his stables, to 
 see a young elephant just brought in from the jungle, and about 
 to begin its education. The poor little thing was dreadfully 
 frightened, though the presence of sundry elephantine patriarchs 
 awed it into good behaviour, to which it was further encouraged 
 by being tethered with a strong rope of straw, illustrating the old 
 Hindoo proverb that “ Little things must not be despised, since 
 many straws united will bind an elephant.” I believe that every 
 working elephant in the empire has been thus free-born and 
 enslaved, as it seems that few, if any, are ever reared in captivity. 
 
 Some of the tales of loyal obedience on the part of these 
 strong, gentle creatures to the ■ master whom they have once 
 accepted, really surpass even stories of the faith of dogs. Such, 
 for instance, is the historical record of how the rocklike steadfast- 
 
 1 Flour cakes. 
 
A FAITHFUL ELEPHANT. 
 
 239 
 
 ness of a standard-bearing elephant turned the tide of victory in 
 favour of his master, the Peishwa of Poona, the conquering 
 Mahratta chief. 
 
 The troops were drawn up in line of battle, and the elephant 
 bearing the royal standard had just taken up his position and 
 received command to halt, when his mahout, conspicuous by his 
 post of honour, fell mortally wounded. All day long the battle 
 raged, but (like the immortal Casabianca on the burning deck) the 
 heroic elephant stood his ground, in brave obedience to the last 
 command of his master. 
 
 Again and again, the Mahratta host rallied around their steadfast 
 standard-bearer, but when at last victory was theirs, and they 
 swept onward in pursuit of the routed foe, the poor elephant was 
 left alone on the deserted battle-field, alone with the dead and 
 dying, who lay heaped around him, marking where the battle 
 had been hottest, in defence of the ensign which he had borne so 
 immovably. 
 
 When, weary of slaughter, the victors retraced their ground, they 
 sought to lead their hero home with all honour, but he utterly 
 refused to move. For three long days and nights he stood his 
 ground, eagerly listening for the word of command from the 
 master whose voice he might never hear again. 
 
 At last a messenger was despatched to a village on the Ner- 
 budda river, distant about a hundred miles, to fetch the mahout’s 
 little son, a mere child, to whom the father had sometimes deputed 
 the honour of directing his charge. The majestic beast instantly 
 recognised the child, and as a valiant soldier swears allegiance to 
 his infant sovereign, so did this gentle giant do homage to this 
 little one, accepting from him the order of release, consented to 
 abandon his post, and meekly followed the child back to his home. 
 
 Here, as in all Indian stations, the Native town is quite apart 
 from the European, and very few English ever set foot in it, 
 though to all lovers of the picturesque it offers the usual attrac¬ 
 tions of a native bazaar. The narrow street of small open shops, 
 with all goods exposed to the passers-by; the white-robed, tur- 
 baned shopkeeper, folded up within; the groups of idlers around 
 
240 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in every variety of dress ; sellers of fruit, of gleaming brass vessels ; 
 stalls of the favourite native sweetmeats; stalls of money¬ 
 changers, with heaps of divers coins and shells ; sellers of caged 
 birds, doves, parrots, hill minas ; shops of every species of cloth, 
 others whose whole trade is in embroidered skull-caps of brilliant 
 silk and gold. These are worn as demi-toilette instead of a 
 turban, or by young children who have not yet been shaven. 
 
 Then there are stalls for gold and silver lace—some for 
 jewellery—many for all things connected with the joys of smoking, 
 especially the pretty vases of silvery metal to hold water through 
 which the smoke must pass. These, and a thousand more, all in 
 brilliant light and shadow, are among the items which make native 
 life so wonderfully picturesque, though to the Anglo-Indians they 
 have so utterly lost their novelty that you can hardly induce them 
 to drive you through a bazaar. 
 
 But if such a drive is interesting, a stroll is infinitely more so, 
 when you can linger as long as you please, to watch these skilful 
 workmen producing their exquisitely refined artistic work with the 
 rudest, simplest tools, such as no British workman would deign 
 to touch, but which, in those delicate, flexible hands, produce such 
 admirable results. Then too in every department we are watching 
 true manufacturers—hand work—so that each object has a certain 
 individuality; there is none of the wholesale multiplication of 
 articles by the gross. Two points which conduce to the perfection 
 and careful finish of all work are, first, the natural patience of the 
 whole race, and further, the fact that all work is done as a religious 
 duty; the worker realises that he is fulfilling his appointed 
 mission, and must do it to the best of his power, so he will not 
 be hurried, neither will he scamp his work. 
 
 One great secret of his skill lies in the fact that in all things 
 Indian, fashions remain unchanged. He has not to expend time 
 and thought in devising novelties and how to produce them, but 
 has only to perfect the work of his own ancestors, for all trades 
 are transmitted from generation to generation. Moreover all the 
 workers in one trade live clustered together in one special corner 
 of the bazaar, rarely blending with other trades. 
 
ITINERANT TRADERS. 
 
 241 
 
 This individual perfection is however just one of the things 
 which is in danger of being lost by the introduction of wholesale 
 British manufactures. Very useful as giving employment to many 
 of India’s superfluous thousands, but certainly tending to dull 
 uniformity. Already vast factories have been erected, and steam 
 power introduced, and multitudes who hitherto have worked 
 individually, each in his own home, now crowd in gangs to attend 
 to the mechanical work of the 1,250,000 spindles already 
 employed in the cotton factories, or the 40,000 which are pre¬ 
 paring jute. 
 
 One of the regular Indian institutions is the race of pedlars 
 and itinerant merchants of all sorts, who wander from house 
 to house, followed by two or. three coolies bearing enormous 
 bundles, and, unless summarily dismissed, the contents of these 
 are in a few minutes, spread all over your verandah. Sometimes 
 they are precious cloths, shawls, and jewels from Delhi, or 
 beautifully embroidered woollen things from Cashmere—gorgeous 
 kincob woven of gold, silver, and many coloured silks, or muslins 
 from Dacca, so marvellously fine as to merit such names as “ web 
 of the wind ” or “woven air,” so wondrously fine is their texture. 
 Sometimes we have the verandah strewn with every variety of 
 carved wood and toys, or skins of birds of radiant plumage. Some 
 bring stores of fruit and jams; then comes the roti-wallah, or 
 bread-fellow, with tempting biscuits wherewith to bribe the 
 children, and so mollify the mothers. 
 
 The itinerant jewellers would astonish Storr and Mortimer by 
 the glittering treasures which they produce from a heap of 
 dirty old rags. Each jewel, which in London would be deemed 
 worthy of a satin-lined velvet case, is here wrapped up in a bit 
 of old linen, and by the time the elaborate process of opening 
 each little parcel is finished, your verandah becomes a sort of 
 rag fair, with a little heap of really valuable brooches, bracelets, 
 and earrings, and a wider circle of trash. It is quite in vain to 
 protest that you have no intention of investing in any of these 
 treasures, the snares must be duly set, and the very smallest 
 purchase seems to repay these patient traders. 
 
242 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The sonar, or goldsmith, is another variety of jeweller, the 
 tinker of the trade. His simple apparatus consists of a blow¬ 
 pipe, a few seeds which act as weights for miniature scales, and 
 a tiny pannikin. Should you have any mending to do, or your 
 servants possess any morsels of gold and silver which they want 
 fashioned into rings for their noses, or ankles, or toes, the sonar 
 will quickly prepare his furnace. He scoops a small hole in the 
 earth, fills it with charcoal and dry cowdung, and with his iron 
 blowpipe produces such a blast of air that the little furnace 
 soon glows hot and red; then the little pellets of precious 
 metal are weighed in the tiny scales, and the servants keep 
 close watch for any sleight-of-hand that might suggest dis¬ 
 honesty. Then in due time the new adornments are fashioned, 
 and the proud owner goes off to the bazaar to display his 
 finery. 
 
 A very numerous class are the Chicken wallahs, or sellers of 
 white embroidery ; admirable work, like our best Irish needle¬ 
 work, though too often the labour has been spent on muslin too 
 fine for lasting wear. 
 
 But the most useful of all are the Kapra wallahs, or cloth- 
 fellows, who carry a whole draper’s shop with them ; and the 
 Box wallahs, whose store is much the same as that of a general 
 merchant in a country village. (I remember one, in the High¬ 
 lands. who advertised “Tea, tar, and treacle, godly books and 
 gimlets ” !) Well, his Hindoo counterpart carries everything you 
 can devise, from Parisian jewellery and Sheffield cutlery to the 
 last new novel or patent medicine; and knowing that the value 
 of a thing is precisely what it will fetch, he finds out its 
 market value by asking double its worth, but generally ends 
 by taking a very fair price, which is more than can be said for 
 the English shops, where double and quadruple prices are un- 
 blushingly asked, and no reduction is made. 
 
 The most curious specimen, however, of itinerant salesmen is 
 he who brings an anonymous box from some lady who is just leav¬ 
 ing the station, and selling off her old clothes and other rubbish 
 —such rubbish ! Old bonnets, half-worn ; white shoes, cracked 
 
INDIAN JUGGLERS. 
 
 243 
 
 fans, sham jewellery, books, trash without end. Having dismissed 
 him with ignominy, tempered by gratitude for the amusement 
 his box has given us, we turn to welcome a solemn Wizard of 
 the East, who is sure to be worth some moments’ attention. 
 
 There are a certain set of tricks which most jugglers can 
 practise with considerable skill, such as swallowing knives, or 
 even a sword, and blowing fire from the mouth. 
 
 The sword swallowing is no sham ; eighteen inches of bright 
 cold steel do actually find their way down the man’s gullet, he 
 taking no other precaution than to oil the blade, which of course 
 is blunt. His throat has gradually been hardened by astringent 
 gargles, and in his early days has cost him many a sharp pain, 
 and restricted his food to spoon-diet. By the time he has got 
 well used to swallowing steel, he is ready to do likewise with 
 snakes, which he holds by the tip of the tail and lets them 
 crawl down, while he draws in his breath. As soon as he breathes 
 again they shrink back from the heat ! 
 
 Another curious feat is to throw a cocoa-nut into the air and 
 catch it on the head, when the nut shivers to atoms instead of 
 breaking the head, as might be expected. Of course this is all 
 knack, just like breaking a poker across your arm, and has been 
 capped by an Englishman, who substitutes nodules of flint for 
 the cocoa nuts, and produces the same result ! 
 
 Among the most common, yet most striking proofs of sleight- 
 of-hand is the mango trick. The juggler, whose drapery con¬ 
 sists of half a yard of cotton ; his theatre, your own verandah, 
 his stock-in-trade, a mere handful of toys, proceeds to bury a 
 mango-stone in a little mud and covers it with a jar. A few 
 minutes later the jar is raised, and lo ! a tender green seed-leaf 
 has sprouted. When next we peep into that magic hot-bed, the 
 tiny leaf has long since withered, and a flourishing young tree 
 has developed with a rapidity the secret of which would be a 
 boon indeed to our patient foresters. The same trick is shown 
 with the pineapple plant, whose ripe fruit, presented to the 
 spectators, gives a charming flavour of reality to the deception. 
 
 There were, however, some of these tricks for which I looked 
 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in vain. One, in particular, which I cannot refrain from quoting 
 from the words of an eye-witness. 
 
 He describes how a stout, ferocious-looking fellow stepped 
 forward, and made him examine a light wicker basket, which he 
 then placed over a pretty little girl about eight years old, utterly 
 guiltless of raiment. The ruffian then asked the child some 
 question, and the little voice answered from the basket. Ques¬ 
 tion and answer grew loud and rapid, till the man, in violent 
 passion, threatened to kill the child, who vainly prayed for 
 mercy. 
 
 There was a stern reality in the scene which was terrible to 
 witness. The man set his foot on the frail basket, beneath which 
 cowered the terrified child, and seizing a sword plunged it into 
 the basket again and again, with the blind ferocity of an excited 
 demon, his face frantic with rage. The shrieks of the child were 
 so real and distracting that the spectators stood pale and paralysed 
 with terror. Blood ran in streams from the basket; the child 
 was heard to struggle under it; her groans gradually sank to a 
 faint moan, fainter and fainter, then all was still. So vivid was 
 the scene that the impulse of the spectators was to rush on the 
 monster and fell him to the earth, when, to their inexpressible 
 relief and astonishment, the juggler muttered a few cabalistic 
 words, took up his basket, and there exhibited—no mangled 
 corpse—only a little blood-stained earth; and the little child, 
 with a graceful salaam, advanced from among the crowd to claim 
 a backsheesh, which was readily bestowed. What made the 
 deception more remarkable was that the man stood quite 
 aloof from the crowd, not a creature within several feet of 
 him. 
 
 After this he took a large earthen vessel with wide mouth, 
 filled it with water, and turned it upside down, when all the 
 water, of course, ran out. He then reversed the jar, which, all 
 present perceived to be quite full, and all the earth around was 
 perfectly dry. He then emptied the jar, and handed it round for 
 general inspection. He bade one of the company fill it to the 
 brim; after which he upset it, but not a drop of water flowed ; 
 
SNAKE-CHARMERS. 
 
 245 
 
 nevertheless, to the astonishment of all, it was quite empty. 
 This trick was shown repeatedly, and at last he broke the jar to 
 prove that it really was nothing but the ordinary earthenware that 
 it appeared. 
 
 Next a large basket was produced, and on lifting it a pariah 
 dog lay crouching on the ground. The basket cover was re¬ 
 placed, and the second peep showed a litter of seven puppies 
 with their interesting mother. A goat, a pig, and other animals 
 successively appeared from this magic receptacle, although, as 
 before, the exhibitor stood quite alone, and in full view of all 
 spectators. 
 
 Though we had not the luck to come in for any exhibitions 
 so striking as these, we, being novices, found a store of interest 
 in the curious beings who did find their way to us. Snake- 
 charmers came continually. They play on a sort of squeaking 
 bagpipe, which is supposed to have wondrous charms for all 
 manner of serpents, and it must be a deaf adder indeed which 
 will not come forth to listen to the voice of the charmer. There 
 have been undoubted instances in which really wild snakes have 
 been thus attracted, probably those which had a fine ear for 
 music. We heard of one instance in which a young Englishman, 
 much addicted to playing the flute, had been compelled to give 
 up that harmless pursuit because his house was in a snaky district, 
 and his gentle melodies attracted such a multitude of serpents 
 that even the natives objected ! 
 
 But of course, as a general rule, those so triumphantly pro¬ 
 duced from the garden hedge have been very well trained by 
 their dancing master. It is a horrible thing, however, to see a 
 shrinking child adorned with serpents of every size as bracelets 
 and anklets, with a great boa constrictor or a cobra curling about 
 his feet or round his body,—especially when we know for a 
 fact that there have been instances in which the poison fangs 
 have not been removed. 
 
 Mr. Forbes mentions a dancing cobra which lay on his table 
 for an hour while he painted it. He frequently handled it to 
 observe the beauty of the spots and the marks on the hood like 
 
246 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 a pair of spectacles, all the time fully believing that the veno¬ 
 mous fangs had been extracted. A few hours later the same 
 vicious reptile sprang at a young woman, bit her in the throat, 
 and in half an hour she was dead. Nor are even the most ex¬ 
 perienced snake-charmers always proof against accidents. Many 
 horrible cases have occurred where a cobra has caused his master’s 
 death. 
 
 But the strangest thing of all is to hear of a serpent causing 
 its own death, as in a case mentioned by Dr. Bearing, where a 
 snake having been much irritated, turned suddenly round, open- 
 mouthed, and caught its fang in its own flesh. Very soon after it 
 rolled over and died, poisoned by its own virus. 
 
 Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, mentions having seen a snake- 
 charmer at Cairo plunge his hand into a tubful of serpents ; thence 
 take a cerastes (a most venomous snake), and putting it on his 
 bare head, cover it with his red cap. After a while he put it in 
 his bosom, then twined it round his neck like a necklace. Shortly 
 afterwards it sprang at a hen and bit it, and the bird died a few 
 moments later. In order to prove that the snake was no precious 
 favourite, the man finally took it up by the neck, and beginning 
 at the tail, ate it up, as you would eat a piece of celery, without 
 the smallest repugnance ! 
 
 I have myself seen a refractory snake give his keeper a 
 bite so severe as to cause him very great pain. However the 
 wound bled freely, and after the man had sucked out as much of 
 die venom as he could, he produced something of the shape and 
 colour of a bean, very hard and polished. This he laid on the 
 sore finger. It seemed to draw out the venom, and then fell off 
 of itself. He called it snake-stone, and said it was made of 
 stag’s horn. So you see we are not the only people who know 
 that hartshorn, or ammonia in some form, is a cure for such 
 venomous bites. 
 
 Every one travelling in the East should have spirits of ammonia 
 in his medicine-chest, or still better, eau de luce, which is a pre¬ 
 paration of hartshorn, oil of amber, and spirits of wine, as the 
 servants’ bare feet are terribly liable to be found out by snakes 
 
SNAKE-STONE. 
 
 247 
 
 and scorpions; and although in cases of a severe bite the only 
 safety lies in instantly burning or cutting out the portion of flesh 
 bitten (having previously stayed the flow of blood by the tightest 
 possible ligature, for which purpose a supply of whipcord should 
 be kept ready besides the ammonia), it is always well at once to 
 administer stimulants freely, the best being half a teaspoonful ot 
 eau de luce, or forty drops of strong spirits of ammonia, in a little 
 water; a dose which should be repeated frequently, till the pain 
 gradually passes down the suffering limb, and seems to be drawn 
 out at the finger-tips or toes. 
 
 This is precisely the result produced by applying the snake- 
 stone, or horn. A piece of this was analysed by Professor 
 Faraday, who believed it to be “ a piece of charred bone, which 
 had been filled with blood several times, and then carefully 
 charred again. It consisted almost entirely of phosphate of lime, 
 and if broken, showed an organic structure with cells and tubes.” 
 I have been told of various cases of very severe bites, even those 
 of the cobra, in which immediate application of this snake-stone 
 has effected a cure. 
 
 The natives also have a kind of wood which they call the 
 root of the snake plant. They wave it close above the reptile, 
 which seems to shrink down, cowed. This plant is the 
 Aristolochia, which is much used in the West Indies as an antidote 
 to the bite of serpents. It is said also to be fatal to all manner 
 of snakes, and serpent-charmers stupefy their playthings with its 
 juice. The difficulty must be to insert it into their mouths ! It 
 is like the simple operation of removing the poison sacs, which is 
 easily performed “ by making an incision beneath and behind 
 each eye.” But the question to ordinary mortals would be how 
 to set about it!! 
 
 Certainly these snake-charmers are a race by themselves. Their 
 power is undoubtedly hereditary ; and there can be no doubt that 
 (like the Psylli of ancient Egypt) they have some mysterious 
 influence over the most deadly and venomous foes of our species. 
 There are most clearly proved instances in which enraged snakes 
 have first been lulled by the music of these men; then allowed 
 
2 -j.S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 themselves to be played with ; have shrunk back in dismay if they 
 were spat at; have lain for days curled up in their charmer’s tur¬ 
 ban ; and then, perhaps, broken loose, to try their fatal fangs on 
 some less masterful spirit. 
 
 It is said that in some cases the snake-charmers have anointed 
 their whole body with some decotion of herbs, hateful to the ser¬ 
 pent, so that the very smell of their skin is repellent to them ; and 
 that men not pretending to be professional, who had been thus 
 prepared for action, have been seen deliberately taking up snakes 
 and handling them, without receiving injury. 
 
 Many medical authorities assert that, when once the venom 
 has been thoroughly and intentionally injected, its career through 
 the whole system is so rapid that no antidote can be of much avail. 
 Nevertheless, I have been assured by one, through whose hands 
 hundreds of cases of snake-bite had passed, that he scarcely knew 
 of one instance in which the spirits of ammonia had failed to work 
 a complete cure, though the bites were often of the worst possible 
 character. 
 
 You can fancy how much this element of possible danger adds 
 to the fascination which the snake-charmers, with their baskets 
 of dread playthings, always possess. The reptiles are, in truth, so 
 beautiful, with their varied colouring, some grey, some brown, 
 some yellow, some beautifully marked with bands of black and 
 gold, and divers patterns ; all gliding so silently in the sunlight, 
 now raising their heads to watch with glittering eye the movements 
 of their master, or, with sudden dart, springing at some unwary 
 fly, as you might fancy their springing at and striking some 
 nobler foe. 
 
 How strange it did seem to us, while, with an irrepressible 
 shudder, we watched these creatures wriggling along in their horrid 
 coils, to remember that we were looking on the creature above 
 all others whose worship has been most universal, and which held 
 a place of honour even among our own forefathers ! 1 
 
 Although the living serpent has ceased to hold a prominent 
 place in public worship, it is still recognised in all villages 
 1 See In the Hebrides, p. 51, C. F. Gordon Cumming. Chatto & Windus. 
 
SERPENT GODS. 
 
 249 
 
 throughout Hindostan as the principal corn-god, to whom 
 sacrifice is offered at seed-time and in harvest, and at all other 
 times when rain or fair weather is unseasonably delayed. Even 
 the Brahmans (!) join in these snake festivals and receive their 
 share of the offerings. Some carry a snake-skin in their holy 
 books. The chief festival is held just after the season 
 when the snake, having cast its skin, comes forth in renewed 
 beauty. 
 
 In the mythology of Hindostan, as in that of many other lands, 
 the serpent maintains his two-fold character—sometimes as a 
 power of good, sometimes of evil. Even where he is not osten¬ 
 sibly worshipped, he appears in connection with the gods, either 
 as a symbol of Siva, as Mahadeo, the Lord of Life, or twined round 
 the neck or arms of Vishnu, Juggernaut, Parvati, and others ; 
 sometimes he is coiled up as a couch whereon the god slumbers, 
 the head of the cobra (sometimes single, sometimes five-fold, 
 sometimes seven-fold) forming a protecting canopy. Thus Vishnu 
 sleeps on the thousand-headed serpent Sesha, which symbolises 
 Infinity. Yet his attendant, the man-eagle Garunda, slays a 
 great serpent. 
 
 We know, too, that the chief feat of Krishna was to slay the 
 wicked serpent Kaliya, which, nevertheless, continues to receive 
 a certain share of worship, just as the Pythian snake was adored 
 at Delphi, even by the worshippers of Apollo, its destroyer, on 
 the principle that powers of evil must be conciliated; and in truth 
 this is a necessary precaution, for in the Hindoo hell, as in that 
 of Scandinavia, there are living walls of poisonous serpents, inter¬ 
 twined in horrible contortions. 
 
 The open and avowed worship of the serpent was so strenuously 
 prohibited by the Aryan conquerors that comparatively few shrines 
 of any note are to be found in Northern India. But in the 
 neighbourhood of Nagpore (‘the city of the Naga or snake,’) 
 and Kanara, and Southern India generally, the old worship is still 
 prevalent. Thus a richly jewelled image of the seven-headed 
 Naga is one of the three principal gods in the great temple of 
 Madura. 
 
250 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The presence of iiving serpents is encouraged, and earth taken 
 from their holes is believed to cure leprosy, if it be rubbed on the 
 leprous spot. It also finds favour with women who have no 
 children. Persons suffering from leprosy or from ophthalmia, 
 or who are childless, believe those curses to be the penalty 
 for having killed a cobra or other snake, in some former 
 state of being. So they make pilgrimage to the serpent shrine, 
 and laying themselves prostrate on the ground, they wriggle round 
 it a given number of times, in sunwise course, imitating the 
 movement of a serpent. They then present as their offering 
 a stone symbol of Siva or of Krishna, with a five-headed snake 
 upreared as a canopy. This they deposit beneath the sacred 
 Peepul tree, anointing it with water, if possible from the 
 Ganges. 
 
 In the native almanacs the fifth day of Srawan is noted as the 
 birthday of the Naga king, and the day whereon serpents must be 
 worshipped. So the people draw a serpentine figure on their 
 houses, and do homage thereto. Then they adjourn to the 
 nearest rocks or trees where serpents are known to live, and which 
 are marked by small cairns smeared with red or black paint. 
 They plant sticks near the hole, and, winding white cotton thread 
 round them, hang up festoons of fragrant flowers ; then they lay 
 offerings of fruit, sugar, ghee, and flour round the hole, into which 
 they pour milk, or lay it in saucers. Then the women, joining 
 hands, circle five times round the snake’s dwelling, after which 
 they prostrate themselves, and anxiously await his appearing to 
 know whether their gift is graciously accepted. Should the 
 serpent prove sulky, the omen is dire indeed. He receives 
 similar bribes in all times of sickness. Moreover, when a child 
 is first shaved, after teething or other infantile ailments, the hair 
 is generally offered to some serpent, the Brahmans being present 
 to sanction proceedings which they cannot prevent, and to accept 
 small offerings. 
 
 The Buddhists have equally displayed the wisdom of the serpent 
 in this matter, and finding they were unable to prevent the vene¬ 
 ration of the serpent, they judiciously incorporated it in their own 
 
SERPENT FUNERALS. 25 I 
 
 teaching. Hence the seven-headed Naga which forms Buddha’s 
 canopy. 
 
 This being the case, it is natural that the natives should strongly 
 object to killing a snake if they can by any possibility drive him 
 away. They infinitely prefer to catch him alive, and carry him by 
 night to the lands of the next village, where they turn him adrift. 
 If, however, compelled to kill him, they put a copper pice in his 
 mouth and give him a funeral-pyre, and, while burning his 
 body, assure him that they are guiltless of his blood; that 
 they slew him by command of their masters, or because they 
 could not otherwise prevent his biting their chickens or their 
 children. 
 
 These serpent funerals must latterly have given a good deal of 
 trouble to the natives of certain districts, where the destruction 
 of these reptiles amounts to quite a large item in government ex¬ 
 penses, so it is to be hoped that the desire of gain may induce 
 the natives to overcome their superstitions and attack their foe in 
 real earnest. 
 
 It has been suggested that a graduated scale of reward should 
 be offered for different species of snakes, varying with the deadli¬ 
 ness of their bite, the highest sum being of course given for the 
 cobra—at once the most sacred and the most dangerous—to 
 whose fang are attributed one-fourth of the annual deaths from 
 snake-bite. These, as a total, are annually estimated at from 
 15,000 to 19,000, in a population of 250,000,000.* It is hoped 
 that a judicious addition of strychnine and carbolic acid to the 
 offerings of milk and sugar placed at the entrance to the nest of 
 the reptile, may prove among the most efficacious means of ridding 
 the country of this pest. 
 
 By the way, this offering of milk to snakes and to symbolic 
 stones, is worthy of notice. In our own Highlands and Western 
 Isles the same libation was poured over sacred stones till very 
 recent times. 3 I have seen bowls of good milk poured into the 
 
 1 Vide Census tables—Snakes, Chapter III., p. 63; Inhabitants, Chapter 
 VII., p. 100. 
 
 - In the Hebrides , pp. 71, 192. 
 
252 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 sea from a sacred rock in Ceylon, and if a Hindoo is so unfor¬ 
 tunate as to be compelled to make a sea voyage (thereby 
 endangering his caste) he likewise pours an oblation of milk into 
 the waves. Then, too, a man who is suffering from a form of 
 witchcraft, produced by the utterance of an evil mantra or charm, 
 can annul it if only he can find out which mantra was said by re¬ 
 peating it while bending over a bowl of milk, which he must then 
 drink. The difficulty is to find out which charm was uttered, as 
 the professional mantra-wizards reckon 70,000,000 of these 
 formulas, which are supposed to render them omnipotent in 
 working spells of love and hate. 
 
 To return to the verandah of our bungalow, whence the snakes 
 have tempted me to wander. 
 
 Owing to the absurd manner in which caste rules limit the work 
 which may be done by any one servant, the most moderate house¬ 
 hold necessarily possesses quite a retinue of these, and as they 
 are perpetually flitting about, they naturally become objects of 
 considerable personal interest. 
 
 They certainly are a curious race. So strange a mixture of 
 childishness and cunning, delighted by the simplest pleasures, 
 children with children, unwearied in their devotion to the delicate, 
 white-faced little ones whom the climate renders so terribly frac¬ 
 tious ; great solemn men walking up and down for hours with 
 unruffled patience, trying to soothe shrieking babies, and probably 
 getting a good dose of the same sort at night in their own little 
 hovels—hovels, by the way, from which I doubt whether any 
 European could come in such spotless white robes. 
 
 As attendants they are wonderfully good. Quick, noiseless, 
 detecting in a moment what is wanted, patient and “ answering 
 not again ” to an extent that might sometimes shame their 
 masters, who certainly have no more claim to faultlessness than 
 “the niggers” of whom they think so lightly; for to see an 
 Englishman fly into a passion with a native, and strike a man 
 who dares not hit him back, is humiliating indeed. If not 
 cowardly, it certainly is horribly derogatory to British dignity, 
 and quite the most painful sight you are likely to witness. 
 
SYSTEM OF DOMESTIC FINES. 
 
 253 
 
 Happily the present state of the law enables the aggrieved 
 servant to summon his master before a magistrate, when a 
 tolerably heavy fine may be exacted. On the other hand, the 
 master will then probably refuse to give the man a chit, or note 
 of character, without which he may wait long enough for a re¬ 
 engagement. 
 
 These chits, however, are often of little value, as they may have 
 been just forged in the bazaar by some unprincipled baboo, 1 or, 
 if genuine, may have been given to some very different man by a 
 master either dead, or returned to England. I used to wonder at 
 the way in which servants would come to me in any house where 
 I might be staying for a few days, to ask for some chits (which of 
 course I could not give), till I discovered that they were saleable, 
 which cleared up the mystery. A native will do anything for 
 pice; he even seems to consider a timely backsheesh abundant 
 compensation for any amount of abuse or even maltreatment— 
 like the old sexton who used to rejoice in his vicar’s petulance, 
 
 for to provoke him into saying “ D- 1 take you ! ” was 
 
 worth a shilling any day, whereas so mild an expletive as 
 “ the deuce 1 ” was a shabby sixpenny speech, only fit for a 
 curate ! 
 
 The most curious thing in the way of compensation is, on the 
 occasion of any accident which has proved fatal to life or limb, to 
 note how readily the mourning relatives are solaced by such a 
 backsheesh as shall supply a funeral feast; a gift of fifty rupees to 
 the widow and children seems positively to turn sorrow into joy. 
 Economical masters avail themselves largely of the habit of fining 
 their servants on every occasion, and for every breakage or every 
 misdeed you hear “ I cut you a rupee,” or “ I cut you eight annas ” 
 —fines which, if always exacted, would leave little due to the 
 luckless servant, whose wages are at all times small, and are in¬ 
 variably kept a month or two in arrear, as otherwise the master 
 has no hold to prevent a man from going off suddenly, at the 
 moment when he is most needed. 
 
 I do not know whether the habit of mistrusting native servants 
 1 Clerk. 
 
254 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 may not of itself make them dishonest. Some masters say so, 
 and certainly he is a very exceptional man who will be better 
 than his character. But certainly, as a rule, the amount of 
 cheatery that goes on is desperately annoying. The most curious 
 thing is the composure with which it is done. A native is not in 
 the least ashamed of being found out in the most flagrant lie or 
 dishonesty. A European master and servant under such circum¬ 
 stances would feel a mutual distrust and disgust that would pro¬ 
 bably result in immediate separation. With these curious beings 
 this is not at all the case. It seems as if the masters became 
 more amiable towards the poor fellows whose little game they 
 have foiled, while the miscreants themselves have quite a 
 teeling of reverence to the superior intellect that saw through 
 them; so that for a few days after a little scene of this sort, 
 domestic life seems extra smooth and pleasant. 
 
 I remember one day in particular, when the culprit was a very 
 superior baboo—a sort of private secretary to his master. He 
 talked perfect English, and had for days been marching with us, 
 and discussing every subject, terrestrial and celestial; pointing 
 out the meaning of his name, which was “ Born in the light of 
 God,” and otherwise edifying us. When he, in the presence of us 
 all, was proved to have invented a tissue of lies to throw some 
 slight blame on another man, why, we commiserated the poor 
 crushed worm, and thought he would be overwhelmed with shame, 
 especially as his master lost no opportunity of playfully chaffing 
 him on his discomfiture; but he seemed to take it as a 
 matter of course, and comforted himself with his usual dignified 
 grace. Of course we have to bear in mind, that some of the gods 
 whom they so deeply reverence, so far from discouraging cheatery 
 and theft, are actually its patrons 1 
 
 One unpleasant point in the Hindoo servants is their readiness 
 to brawl among themselves. Of course I do not mean that they 
 would so far forget themselves and their abject submission to their 
 master as to quarrel in his bungalow, but once seated on their own 
 flat roofs, the most trivial dispute generally ends in a noisy quarrel, 
 in which there is no limit to the execrations heaped on one another, 
 
NOISY QUARRELS. 
 
 255 
 
 more especially on their feminine relations to the third and fourth 
 generations. Then the women’s voices chime in, loud and shrill 
 (painfully discordant when thus high-pitched), and aid the general 
 din with scolding and shrieks. They are as prodigal of choice 
 expletives as the men, and it is said that no race on the face of 
 the earth has so large a vocabulary of oaths as the Hindoo. Their 
 swords are bitter words, but as a general rule no other weapon of 
 offence comes into play. Such cases of stabbing as we hear of in 
 England are unknown, and a good honest trial of fisticuffs equally 
 so. The loudest, angriest tones rarely result in a blow; generally 
 each man stands on his own roof and throws handfuls of harmless 
 dust at his neighbour, or, if they are in closer quarters, the knock¬ 
 ing off of a turban, or a blow from a slipper creates a confusion 
 perfectly appalling. 
 
 These quarrels often result in an action at law, when the pa¬ 
 tient magistrate has to sit in broiling hatchery , 1 weighing evidence 
 and striving to get at the rights of some question involving lucre 
 to the value of twopence farthing. And the difficulty of 
 separating true evidence from false must in itself be oppressive, 
 for falsehood and equivocation seem to come so naturally to native 
 lips that those who know their character best avoid ever asking a 
 direct question. 
 
 This amiable peculiarity of our Aryan brother leads to most 
 extraordinary cases of perjury in our courts of law. I have heard 
 one instance after another when an acute magistrate has un¬ 
 ravelled the most complicated cases, in which all the witnesses 
 had apparently rehearsed the trial beforehand to insure success in 
 acting their false parts ; and perhaps all this would be for a matter 
 of a few rupees. Certainly the old motto, “Straightforward 
 makes the best runner,” is by no means appreciated here; and a 
 life without artifice and all above board would seem to have small 
 attraction for the average Hindoo whatever bright exceptions we 
 may find. 
 
 Among the milder terms of reproach which you will frequently 
 hear, such qualities as we describe by “ owlish ” and “ chicken- 
 
 1 The court. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 256 
 
 hearted” are almost literally rendered “ 00I00 ha hutcha ,” or 
 “ moorghie ka butcha,” meaning “ child of an owl,” or “ of a fowl.” 
 Why the Grecian emblem of wisdom should in these later days 
 bear so different a character in both the eastern and western 
 world, I know not. “ Toom gied/ia,” “ you donkey,” is another 
 playful observation common to both. After seeing the high honour 
 with which this most willing and energetic animal is treated in 
 Egypt, it is curious to land in India and find that its touch is 
 defilement, and that none but the lowest castes will have anything 
 to do with it. 
 
 We had a curious proof of this when it was proposed that the 
 children should have a donkey instead of being carried by men. 
 The servants came in a body to my sister to represent the horrors 
 of the case. Surely she could not be in earnest in wishing to 
 subject the children to such an indignity; but if indeed it were 
 so, they must with one voice protest that not one of them would 
 touch it. So great was the excitement, that as she passed through 
 the public bazaar strangers came up to her in a most respectful 
 manner to express their hope that the mem-sahib would not think 
 of such a thing, for indeed Charlie-sahib was worthy of more 
 honour—surely he might have a pony. Charlie-sahib, however, 
 resolutely refused to ride his pony, so a goat carriage was sub¬ 
 stituted, to the satisfaction of all concerned; whence you may 
 infer that the Indian goat is not afflicted with the fragrance of his 
 British brother, whom indeed he in no way resembles, being a 
 smooth, short-haired creature with short horns, with none of the 
 beauty of our silky-haired, long-horned old Billy-goat. 
 
 The Hindoo abhorrence of the luckless donkey is so great 
 that the very acme of revenge would be to slay an ass on the 
 threshold of a foe, whereby the house would be for ever defiled. 
 In such a case, all the inmates must for ever quit their home 
 before the blood has had time to cool, else their caste would be 
 destroyed, and the usual disgusting ceremonies required for its 
 restoration, the chief of which consists in swallowing each of the 
 six products of the sacred cow ! Of those in ordinary use, only 
 milk, curds, butter, and ghee are here recognised. Cheese is 
 
THE SPRING FESTIVAL. 257 
 
 apparently an unknown article, whether on any religious ground I 
 cannot say . 1 
 
 It is certainly wonderful to see the extent to which this venera¬ 
 tion for cattle triumphs over the usual habits of exceeding 
 cleanliness. If it is startling to see cow-dung applied to the floor of 
 a room, as the most purifying of substances, and the best preventive 
 of vermin, it is still more so, at first, to see a stately woman, 
 bearing her water-jug on her head, kneel (not daring to bend her 
 neck), and with her pretty, well-formed hands gather up fresh 
 material for fuel, which she will carry home triumphantly, and 
 thereof make cakes, which she will plaster over the walls of her 
 house to dry in the sun. This, however, is as much a matter of 
 economy as of reverence . 2 
 
 On one great festival in the month of March, we saw thousands 
 of women and children, gaily dressed in bright-coloured jackets 
 and very tight trousers of brilliant blue or crimson silk, the 
 common muslin shroud being replaced by a great veil of the finest 
 tissue, sometimes wrought in gold; and every woman and child 
 in that vast procession carried in their hands one of these 
 objectionable fuel-cakes, to be offered at some idol shrine 3 
 
 From a purely artistic point of view, I must confess that all 
 these native festivals are wonderfully fascinating. One of the 
 most celebrated festivals, which occupies several days at the time 
 of the full moon in February, is known as the Holi. It is the 
 spring festival which celebrates the awakening of nature to renewed 
 life after her winter sleep. It is a sort of carnival in which the 
 
 1 Strange to say this filthy reverence for the products of cattle even extends 
 to the Parsees, by whom it is practically exemplified in the ceremony of initia¬ 
 tion for every young Parsee. 
 
 2 I am told that this is done nearer home, namely in some parts of Cornwall 
 and the Orkneys, where fuel is as scarce as it is here, there being no firewood ; 
 and coal, and peat even, are luxuries too expensive for the very poor. The 
 sweepings of the byre are therefore so precious as fuel that the land is obliged 
 to accept sea-ware as a substitute for ordinary manure. 
 
 3 It is satisfactory to learn that in several parts of India coal mines have 
 been discovered, so there is no fear of a real failure of fuel. Moreover, 
 employment,, however uncongenial, is thus afforded for thousands as miners. 
 
 S 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 258 
 
 Roman showers of sugar-plums and plaster-of-Paris are replaced 
 by red and yellow powder, which is thrown by every one over his 
 neighbours. The effect of this on the white linen robes is par¬ 
 ticularly obnoxious. This is one of the few occasions on which 
 the natives indulge in fermented liquors, and as they are very 
 easily affected, much drunkenness results. Practical jokes of 
 every sort are indulged in, and the festival degenerates into a most 
 unseemly saturnalia. Consequently the whole population is more 
 or less “ agee ” during the continuance of this festival, which forces 
 itself on the unwilling attention of foreign householders from the 
 determination of all the native servants to spend these days in the 
 bazaar with their friends. 
 
 Fortunately for foreigners, the Plindoo and Mohammedan 
 festivals are generally quite separate concerns, though some days 
 are equally observed by both. One peculiar to the latter is that 
 of “ Buckrah Eade,” or Goat Festival, observed in memory of 
 Abraham having offered up his son—not Isaac, on Mount Moriah, 
 but Ishmael on Mount Ararat—and it is from Isbmael they trace 
 their descent. Many prayers are devoutly offered, and either a 
 goat or a camel is slain and its liver fried, small portions thereof 
 being eaten with bread as a sort of sacramental remembrance of 
 that sacrifice. 
 
 A very remarkable religious ceremony, strangely suggestive of the 
 scape-goat of Levitical law, was practised at Meerut at a time when 
 cholera had been raging and had carried off hundreds of the people. 
 Of course the visitation was attributed to the wrath of Kali, who 
 could no longer be appeased by the customary offering of a goat. 
 The people left their dwellings and took up temporary quarters 
 in open spaces and by the roadsides. They then selected a 
 buffalo for sacrifice, and drove it in procession round the town, 
 preceded by a company of musicians, and followed by attendants 
 who from time to time poured out offerings of milk, water, or 
 wine. After these came a company of Brahmans repeating passages 
 from the sacred books. When they had completed the circuit of 
 the city, one ear of the poor beast was cut off and offered to Kali 
 as a propitiation, but the creature, instead of being sacrificed, 
 
A HINDOO SCAPE-GOAT. 
 
 259 
 
 was driven out by “ a fit man ” 1 into the wilderness (which 
 here means jungle, i.e. a land not inhabited), and there aban¬ 
 doned. Should it approach any other town or village, the people 
 recognising the mark of Kali would drive it away, lest it should 
 bring upon them the punishment due to other men’s sins. 
 
 One great festival is especially held in honour of Hanuman, 
 the monkey-god, to commemorate the day when with his army 
 of monkeys he rescued from Ceylon a beautiful goddess, wife of 
 Rama, and slew the wicked giant Ravan. On the feast a gigantic 
 figure of Ravan is made on a frame of wicker-work, robed in 
 inflammable cotton and covered with fireworks and gunpowder. 
 
 Vast crowds assemble in their white holiday robes and gay 
 turbans, the wealthier coming on their camels and elephants or in 
 picturesque vehicles. A great procession represents the triumph 
 of the monkey-god and his friend Rama. The latter, amid a 
 brilliant display of fireworks, smites the giant with his spear, and 
 forthwith the whole framework bursts into flames, while the people 
 dance and shout with delight at so brave a bonfire ! Most of 
 their processions seem to end with some such infantile fun. 
 
 This reverence for Hanuman extends itself to all the monkey 
 tribes, which are considered very sacred indeed, and roam at their 
 own sweet will from end to end of every Hindoo city, careering 
 over the roofs, leaping from tree to tree, making a sudden descent 
 on garden or bazaar to help themselves to whatever dainty they may 
 fancy. Round the temples they may muster in exceeding force, 
 as the Brahmans feed them regularly. At one temple in Benares 
 we saw fully five hundred of all sorts and kinds, sizes and 
 ages, from the hoary grandfather down to the tiniest little baby 
 in arms. 
 
 We heard of one gentleman who had brought a pet monkey of 
 a rare species from the hills to the plains. A deputation from 
 Hanuman’s temple forthwith waited on him, craving permission to 
 conduct this stranger to the temple with all honour, as it was in¬ 
 cumbent on them to worship it! So the monkey had a night of 
 it, and was restored to its owner on the following morning, none 
 1 Leviticus xvi. 21, 22. 
 
 S 2 
 
26o 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 the worse for this curious episode. Just imagine what a treasure 
 Landseer’s great monkey picture would be to a devout Hindoo ! 
 What a magnificent altar-piece it would make ! 
 
 We generally observe a temple of Hanuman at the entrance of 
 almost every village, and although his hideous image, smeared 
 with a fresh coat of scarlet paint, is by no means attractive, he is 
 deemed a most beneficent being, so his worshippers adorn his 
 lovely brow with chaplets of fresh flowers, and hang long strings 
 of tiny lamps or of alternate leaves and marigolds all about the 
 temple ; lamps are kept ever burning in his presence. Saturday 
 is specially sacred to Hanuman, and all night long the clouds of 
 incense rise, amid beating of tomtoms, shrill pipes, monotonous 
 songs, and wild dancing. But every evening the women bring 
 him offerings of lighted lamps (an oil cup with burning wick), 
 and jars of water whereon float yellow marigolds. If on their 
 way they meet any one whom they wish to honour, they wave 
 before him the brass dish whereon stands the lighted lamp, with 
 intent to avert all evil from him and give him welcome. Some¬ 
 times they will even pour out the water and the marigolds at 
 his feet ! 
 
 The favourite drive in Meerut is round a very large artificial 
 tank, vulgarly called “ the Monkey Tank,” by reason of the sacred 
 apes and monkeys which come for their daily food to the temples 
 by the water side. The native name is more poetical: they call it 
 Sooraj Koond (the Fountain of the Sun), and it is held alike 
 sacred by heathen and Mohammedan. 
 
 You may see the latter drive up at sunset in his smart “ buggy,” 
 whence his servant will take a brilliant carpet and spread it near 
 the tank, and the stately worshipper will thereon kneel and worship 
 with his face turned westwards towards Mecca, little heeding the 
 poor Hindoo who kneels at the shrine close by, making pooja 1 
 so fervently, and presenting his humble offering of cakes and 
 flowers, thereby trusting to avert the wrath of the dread Goddess 
 of Small Pox, whose ruthless hand threaten's to leave his home 
 desolate. 
 
 1 Worship. 
 
GRAVE CHILDREN. 
 
 26l 
 
 Some of the most picturesque festivals are held at this spot, 
 where thousands assemble under the dark trees, on foot or in 
 every variety of native carriage. The aristocrats are mounted on 
 elephants, with rich trappings of velvet embroidered with gold and 
 silver. Here and there are raised platforms, where nautch girls, 
 in brilliant dresses and glittering jewels, dance and sing ; and as 
 the hours pass by unheeded, thousands of torches light up the 
 scene, dancers whirl round with enormous fans of peacocks’ 
 feathers and banners, while blue lights in the background throw a 
 wild glare over wood and water, temples and people. These 
 gatherings generally unite business with pleasure, and long rows 
 of booths for the sale of every species of native and foreign 
 wares to tempt purchasers. 
 
 Of course all the children are laden with grotesque toys, but 
 even these cannot raise more than a passing smile on those grave 
 little faces. There is something in the subdued mirth of Eastern 
 children which is singularly oppressive. You never hear a clear, 
 ringing laugh, or see an honest, hearty, romping game, such as 
 our little ones love. They are all grave and silent. Curious 
 small brown creatures, in long dresses of brilliant flowery calico, 
 with gold-embroidered silk skull-caps, and long silk shawls, the 
 small girls in tiny, tight trousers and veils, like diminutive women. 
 Long ago, Charles Lamb, speaking of the children of the poor, 
 described them as being adults from their cradle—little old men 
 and women in all the cares and anxieties of life. So it is with 
 the grave children of India. 
 
 There are noble faces amongst these people. Clear-cut features 
 and large eyes—soft, speaking eyes—and clear olive or copper 
 complexion, with the finest, glossiest black hair. The amount of 
 hair they may retain depends upon their caste; some submit to a 
 complete tonsure, no matter at what sacrifice of beauty. Among 
 my sister’s servants there was a beautiful boy whom we used to 
 think like the picture of “ The Cenci,” with the great white 
 turban, and large dark eyes. One day he came back from the 
 bazaar, and lo ! all his beauty was gone. He had been shaven 
 with all due ctremony, and his glory was departed. 
 
262 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Meerut has little to show in the way of architectural beauty. 
 One very large tomb, known as the Tomb of Aboo, is the 
 only striking thing, and though it lies only a hundred yards 
 off the daily drive, few of the oldest inhabitants know of 
 its existence ; still fewer take the trouble to go and look 
 at it. 
 
 It consists of a great raised platform of fine red sandstone, in 
 the centre of which lie white marble tombs. Above them, many 
 clusters of tall red sandstone pillars and arches support a group 
 of domes, of various sizes, all inlaid with bright green and blue 
 encaustic tiles. Smaller pillars and domes stand at the corners 
 of the platform, and others are raised in the neighbourhood over 
 humbler members of the same family. 
 
 This was the only place where I found drawing was really a 
 matter of difficulty, owing to the crowd of inquisitive natives, of 
 whom fully a hundred gave me the benefit of their society for 
 the whole day. As usual, they were perfectly civil and obliging, 
 except in utterly refusing to go away. All Hindoos delight in 
 pictures, and like to stand by the hour watching the progress of 
 any painting, their remarks thereon being always intelligent and 
 to the point, which is more than can be said for those of a good 
 many pale-faced art-critics. 
 
 No Mohammedan ought to look at anything so wicked, as he 
 is commanded by the Koran to abhor all likeness of everything 
 in heaven or on earth. Nevertheless, I suspect that my pupils 
 often included the followers of the Prophet, who had no objec¬ 
 tion to my infringing the law, provided they were sinless. It 
 seems that Mohammed has declared that at the Day of Judgment 
 all pictures and graven images will be set before the makers 
 thereof, and they will be commanded to breathe life into them, 
 failing which the unfortunate artists and sculptors will be cast into 
 hell for a season ! 
 
 I fancy the native interest in watching the sketching is very 
 much due to its rarity. They invariably told me that though 
 they often see the Sahibs making photographs, handwork is 
 quite a novelty. Doubtless also it is startling to the Eastern 
 
THE ROAST BEEF OF OLD INDIA. 
 
 263 
 
 mind, to see a high-caste white woman sit with unveiled face, 
 quietly pursuing her avocations in presence of all comers. Our 
 habits, however, are a riddle which they never hope to solve. 
 I think the native mind was considerably impressed by my 
 invariably sitting Hindoo-wise on a large waterproof with gorgeous 
 lining, so much resembling the Mohammedan prayer-carpet, that 
 they doubtless considered the whole proceeding to be some new 
 form of making pooja (i.e. worship) ! 
 
 I was much amused at the way in which my guardian spirit 
 made the best of the crowd which he could not disperse. He 
 awarded reserved seats in the dress circle to those whose drapery 
 entitled them to such honour. Those whose ■ whole raiment con¬ 
 sisted of a string and a coin were ignominiously expelled; but 
 the smallest strip of linen was considered quite respectable. 
 Certainly it is curious how rarely this native “ undress uniform ” 
 strikes any Englishwoman as being indelicate ; for the beautiful 
 silky brown colour of these living bronzes, and the total un¬ 
 consciousness of any lack of raiment, prevents any impression 
 of the sort. 
 
 When luncheon time arrived, a happy idea struck them, 
 and they asked my attendant whether my sandwiches were 
 made of beef, which he assured them was the case; whereupon 
 they all retired to a discreet distance, lest any chance crumbs 
 should be blown towards them, and they should thereby be 
 polluted. 
 
 This curious phase of reverence is one of the many wholly 
 unauthorised modern additions to the early faith of Brahma. 
 The ancient Sanskrit books make frequent allusions to feasts of 
 beef and ale, when solemn sacrifices of oxen were offered to 
 divers gods, each of whom had a well-known weakness for some 
 special colour or sex. One coveted the sacrifice of a bull, the 
 next of a heifer. Some preferred red, some grey, some black, 
 and others piebald. When duly offered, the animal was divided 
 into thirty-six portions; the priest, of course, reserving the 
 daintiest parts for the god. The flesh roasted, with ghee, was 
 then feasted on, and washed down with jovial draughts of ale 
 
264 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and soma-juice. It is supposed that these comfortable sacrifices 
 were only forbidden in order to counterbalance Buddhist teaching 
 of tenderness for animal life; a reason which, however, would- 
 equally apply to the sacrifice of goats and buffaloes, which still 
 continues. But of the actual beef-eating festivals, there is no 
 doubt, as has been recently pointed out to the astonished 
 Brahmans, by an intelligent Hindoo, who has given several 
 lectures in Calcutta on the subject of the Beef and Ale of 
 Old India, to lean rice-fed hearers, who consider the sacrifice 
 of a bullock, or the touch of beef, as sacrilege and defilement 
 unutterable. 
 
 The only place of much interest in the neighbourhood of 
 Meerut is the Roman Catholic Cathedral at Sirdhana, containing 
 marble groups by Tadolini, which you certainly would not 
 expect to come upon, after sixteen miles drive into this (so- 
 called) jungle. The cathedral was built and endowed by the 
 Begum Sornroo, who began life as a Nautch girl; and, having 
 succeeded in captivating the Nawaub, worried her own husband 
 till he committed suicide. She was equally successful in dis¬ 
 posing of female rivals, and having been duly established Queen 
 of the Harem, she, at the death of the Nawaub, succeeded to 
 supreme power, and like our martial Queen Bess, commanded 
 her own troops, and rode at their head. 
 
 She was a tiny woman but wonderfully clever. Foreseeing 
 that the English would be better friends than foes, she became 
 our most staunch ally; and, having embraced the Christian faith, 
 and compelled a number of her subjects to do likewise, she 
 built this large cathedral, and endowed it so handsomely, that 
 about 300 native Catholics continue faithful to it, and have the 
 privilege of eating all manner of meats, which they consider to 
 be the distinguishing feature of our faith. It is said that she also 
 contributed handsomely to the Protestant Church at Meerut, 
 which accounts for its being somewhat less shabby than our 
 churches at most other stations. 
 
 The Begum showed great kindness to a son of the Nawaub, 
 by name Dyce Sombre, formerly well known in England. Being 
 
MARCH TO UMBALLA. 
 
 265 
 
 greatly attached to his stepmother, he paid large sums to the 
 Church of Rome to procure her canonization, which honour was 
 accordingly conferred upon her. The ceremony on that occasion 
 was described to us by a lady who was living in Rome at the 
 time, and on whom, knowing the Begum’s history, it had made a 
 vivid impression. Dyce Sombre also caused the Italian sculptor, 
 above named, to execute a very elaborate monument to her 
 memory, in which his own ungainly statue in full uniform con¬ 
 trasts strangely with beautiful Italian groups of veiled figures, 
 weeping round the statue of the little Begum; an anomaly which 
 the aggrieved sculptor seems to have revenged by infusing a 
 touch of the ludicrous in some of his other statues. 
 
 Our stay at Meerut was happily curtailed by a sudden order 
 that the cavalry should march to Umballa, to grace the state 
 reception of the Ameer of Afghanistan. For the first few days 
 their march lay along the line of railway, and the daily “ play ” 
 of all disconsolate wives was to make amusing expeditions to 
 the camp and see the marvellous rapidity with which the direst 
 confusion gave place to most perfect order; more especially in 
 the great mess-tent, where snowy linen, and plate and glass, and 
 an elaborate bill of fare, would scarcely allow you to remember 
 that the good “ Brownies ” who had produced it all had just come 
 off a weary march, and that their cooking-range consisted of a 
 row of stones and mud ovens in the open air ! Weather never 
 discomposed their equanimity and in drenching rain everything 
 was as well served as in the sunshine; a proceeding which would 
 puzzle European chefs and footmen, more especially if clad in 
 white linen drapery and turbans. 
 
 There were, just at this time, a good many days of soaking 
 rains, with heavy thunderstorms, which must have made a camp 
 life unutterably disgusting ; but it was considered greatly to the 
 advantage of the troops, as tending to cool the atmosphere; and 
 though there were some delays, to allow the heavy wet canvas to 
 dry, before the camels could resume their loads, there is little 
 doubt that to this cause they were greatly indebted for so clean a 
 bill of health at Umballa. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A GRAND DURBAR. 
 
 Seharanpore—First sight of the Himalayas—Umballa—Gorgeous Rajahs— 
 Elephants—Camels—Reception, of the Ameer—A Durbar—Travelling 
 to the Hills—Indian Post Horses—The Foot-hills—Detention at a Rest- 
 house—The Mountain Battery—A Storm—An Art Critic—Scarlet Rhodo¬ 
 dendrons—Simla. 
 
 The journey from Meerut to Umballa which cost the cavalry 
 and artillery ten days under canvas, and ten morning marches 
 before sunrise, was accomplished by the rest of the world in an 
 afternoon by rapJL The line was still so new as to be liable to 
 considerable irregularity. On the present occasion we waited 
 three hours before our train appeared. Happily, being a cheery 
 set, we cared little ; and the railway officials had the more time 
 to master the intricacies of our baggage. I listened with much 
 amusement to my sister’s explanation: “You see I have tickets 
 for four horses and two dogs. Two of the horses are cows, and 
 one of the dogs is a goat, and the other is a cat ! ” I bethought 
 me of Punch's picture of an old lady whose menagerie had been 
 thus classified—all, save her pet tortoise, which, “being an 
 insect,” did not require a ticket. She looked as much disgusted 
 as did one of my friends on being told that her lovely green 
 frogs and pet salamander were “ vermin ! ” 
 
 Late in the afternoon we passed Seharanpore, where we had 
 already spent some pleasant days. It is one of the headquarters 
 of the Government Stud Department, which has immense stables 
 
“PERSIAN WHEEL” WELL. 
 
 2 67 
 
 here ; whence, at the periodical sales of rejected horses, wide-awake 
 individuals recruit their private stables greatly to their own ad¬ 
 vantage. Seharanpore is famed for its gardens, whence all 
 India is supplied with plants and seeds. Here an old well, of 
 the sort called Persian Wheel, struck me as extremely picturesque. 
 The water is drawn from an immense depth by an endless chain 
 of great red earthen jars, fastened between two ropes, and passing 
 over a wheel, which is in connection with another wheel, turned 
 by bullocks, and driven by brown men in white turbans, the whole 
 overshadowed by fine old trees. One of tire ropes, being new, 
 was adorned with a large bunch of flowers as a votive offering to 
 the Spirit of the Well. 
 
 Before us stretched a wide hill-range, bounding the intervening 
 plain. It did not seem to us very grand ; very much like the 
 Ochils from some points near Stirling. Only we knew that these 
 were indeed the low spurs of that mighty range we had come so far 
 to see, and that those little patches and peaks of glittering white 
 were our first glimpse of the eternal snows of the Himalayas. 1 One 
 mountain in particular, the Chor, we were afterwards taught to look 
 up to with reverence, but I cannot say that was our first impulse. 
 
 It was late and dark when we reached Umballa. Our luggage- 
 ticket was mislaid in the confusion, and there was no end of 
 tantalising trouble, and going to and fro, before we were allowed 
 to rescue one atom of our property, which lay piled before our 
 eyes. We forcibly carried off one box of nursery goods, and the 
 authorities, after wearisome delays, allowed the rest to follow us. 
 Tired and hungry, we at last found ourselves safe in a large empty 
 bungalow, of which a friend had kindly allowed us the use. The 
 house was literally empty, so we had commissioned a furniture 
 agent to supply such things as were actually necessary. The 
 sudden influx of strangers made all such supplies meagre in the 
 extreme; and you can imagine nothing more dreary than a large, 
 empty Indian bungalow, where the uncarpeted floors and bare 
 whitewashed walls make every voice and footstep resound; every 
 
 1 Himalaya, “the abode of perpetual snow”—from the Sanskrit hima, 
 “ snow,” and alaya, “ an abode.” Ilimmavat means the “ snow-covered.” 
 
268 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 room acting as a passage to its neighbours, and no curtains to 
 veil the ill-fitting doors. 
 
 However, when morning returned, with its flood of warm 
 sunshine, we no longer thought it dreary, but turning plaids into 
 table-cloths, and filling every native bowl and hubble-bubble vase, 
 on which we could lay hands, with loads of roses and jessamine, 
 we soon made our quarters cosy enough. Afterwards, when we 
 saw how every nook and cranny of the town was crowded with 
 strangers, we felt thankful indeed for our large cool rooms and 
 shady garden, where orange and pomegranate-shrubs (those “ busy 
 plants,” as old George Herbert calls them) mingled their white or 
 scarlet blossoms with their own ripening fruit, and where, more 
 beautiful than all, the tall beauhinia or camel’s foot (so Called 
 from the shape of its leaf) showered down exquisite blossoms like 
 large white geraniums, with lilac markings. 
 
 Here we often lingered in the cool evening watching the vivid 
 sheets of lightning, while crashing peals of thunder made the 
 night solemn, and harmonised the various camp-sounds on every 
 side, bands playing, bugles calling, voices of men and of camels. 
 One native regiment quartered near us seemed to be for ever 
 marching to the sound of a very musical little French horn. 
 In short, we soon made aural acquaintance with our many 
 neighbours. 
 
 On one side stretched the great Maidan, a fine, wide plain, 
 affording scope for all manner of military evolutions. The troops 
 were camped all round the edge of this plain ; and the mass of 
 white canvas cutting against the background of dark foliage, the 
 Himalayas lying blue in the distance, and the brilliant foreground 
 of native figures gorgeously attired, combined to make a very fine 
 picture. At the farther end of the great plain lay the Governor- 
 General’s camp, a white city of tents, all ready for his reception ; 
 and a little farther was that of the Commander-in-Chief, both 
 overshadowed by the Union Jack. 
 
 Such a plain would on most occasions have been veiled by its 
 own dust, stirred up by the ever-moving crowds and galloping 
 troops. Fortunately, however, the nights of heavy rain, which 
 
GORGEOUS RAJAHS. 
 
 269 
 
 conduced so much to the discomfort of those under canvas 
 proved not merely a safeguard of health, but a great addition to 
 the enjoyment of the days. 
 
 Besides, we were indebted to those kindly showers for a glimpse, 
 often repeated, of a genuine, unmistakable mirage. For the sun’s 
 hot rays drew from the moist earth a tremulous haze of misty 
 dew, which hung quivering over the plain; and the dark, distant 
 trees and white tents not only seemed raised, so as to float above 
 the mist, but their inverted images lay clearly reflected thereon, 
 as on the bosom of some quiet lake. 
 
 We had arrived on a Saturday, and our Afghan allies were not 
 expected till Wednesday, nor was Lord Mayo to arrive from 
 Calcutta till the following Saturday ; so we had time enough to 
 explore the neighbourhood, and to admire all the magnificent 
 natives and their gorgeous suites. Sixteen “burra ” Rajahs, very 
 great men, had assembled, besides innumerable lesser potentates, 
 each bringing his military escort; his elephants with magnificent 
 howdahs; his camels and gorgeously caparisoned horses, covered 
 with a network of silk and jewels, in addition to their jewelled 
 trappings and long sweeping yak’s tails. Some of the horses were 
 partly dyed pink, others stained russet with henna, a few were 
 adorned with anklets of gold and gems. 
 
 But a good deal of this splendour was reserved for the show 
 days, and it must be confessed that many of these great men cut 
 but a poor figure on first arriving, as most of them chose to drive 
 into Umballa in their English carriages, which, as a rule, were 
 of the shabbiest. Their followers too, were, naturally enough, 
 travel-stained and weary, and trudged along, in anything but 
 orderly style, to the intense dismay of our servants, who had 
 striven hard to impress upon us the overpowering magnificence 
 that was to dazzle our bewildered sight. These men have a good 
 deal of the old Highland pride in the greatness of their chiefs, 
 and never lose a chance of extolling their wealth, and apparently 
 with good reason. 
 
 The greatest man of all was the Rajah of Putialah, whose camp 
 was said far to outshine that of the Governor-General. The 
 
2/0 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 whole place seemed to swarm with his retainers. He brought 
 so many regiments that they amounted to a small army. The 
 excellence of his artillery corps drew forth much praise, while 
 their band played “Begone dull care,” “Cherry ripe,” “The 
 Bailiff’s daughter of Islington,” and many such popular airs, ad¬ 
 mirably. His elephants were apparently without number, and 
 the magnificence of their trappings was suggestive of the old 
 Arabian nights. Some had howdahs of silver; others of silver 
 inlaid with gold. One huge elephant was accompanied by a very 
 small one, bearing a great ladder of solid silver, whereby his 
 master might climb down from his tall perch. Sometimes his 
 rider preferred a gallop on horseback ; then the stately old elephant 
 knelt, and salaaming with his trunk, remained immovable during 
 his master’s descent, which was by no means the graceful action 
 of “vaulting from the saddle,” then rising, he salaamed again, 
 and marched on with majestic solemnity. 
 
 Some of the howdahs are quite too gorgeous; divans of gleam¬ 
 ing metal, apparently silver or burnished gold, and with a canopy 
 of the same to represent the honorific umbrella, the whole lined 
 with richest velvet and most luxurious cushions. This splendid 
 couch rests on a thickly-wadded velvet quilt, while a gorgeous 
 gold-embroidered velvet cloth hangs to the ground on either side, 
 so that the elephant is almost hidden with crimson and gold 
 housings. The attendants are well in keeping with all this 
 splendour, some bearing great fans of peacock’s feathers, others 
 waving yak’s tails as fly flaps, while some are privileged to hold 
 the regal oriental umbrellas. This was my first sight of elephants 
 in full dress, and I own I was rather startled to see those wise 
 faces painted with lines, stars, stripes, and curling patterns in 
 brilliant colours, more elaborate than the caste-marks of their 
 masters. Their great flapping ears, too, are pierced like a 
 woman’s, and adorned with jewels. Their huge ankles are circled 
 by heavy bracelets and bangles of silver and precious stones. 
 Their crupper and necklace consist of many large plates'of gold 
 or silver, suspended from a great chain. On their forehead they 
 wear some costly jewel, and the tips of their tusks are sheathed 
 
ELEPHANTS IN FULL DRESS. 
 
 271 
 
 in richly embossed gold or silver. Sometimes they wear a golden 
 crown as well, and a jewelled network on their head and neck. 
 Others simply have the head stained of a saffron colour, with 
 ears shaded off to green, all elaborate decoration in arabesque 
 being lavished on the proboscis, while very large tusks are added 
 on to those bestowed by nature, a piece of cunning dentistry 
 which is deftly concealed by golden bands. The legs are also 
 painted, and adorned with massive bracelets of gold and silver. 
 The finest elephant is none the worse for being thus got up, for 
 when in undress it is a wondrously untidy-looking beast, in its 
 loose, flappy, wrinkled skin, which seems much too large for it. 
 It does look so shabby, and no one, looking at its ugly little eyes, 
 would ever give it credit for so much sagacity as we know it 
 possesses. 
 
 The natives seemed much gratified at our admiration of their 
 barbaric splendour. One mahout (driver) (himself gorgeously 
 apparelled) showed me the heavy prod of solid gold, incrusted 
 with large turquoises, wherewith he encourages his charge, often 
 striking the poor brute on the skull till he bleeds horribly. 
 
 Whatever sameness there must necessarily be in describing such 
 a scene, there is considerable variety in the reality, one star 
 differing from another in radiance, but each individually splendid. 
 Only one thing is alike in all—the strange uneasy swaying of the 
 proboscis, which is never for a moment at rest. 
 
 Within each fantastic howdah sits some dark chief, glittering 
 with jewels, and robed in some brilliant material; silk or velvet 
 or cashmere, stiff with gold and silver; dress, turban, and waist- 
 cloth, each more rich than the other, yet always harmonious in 
 colouring. I confess our admiration was fairly riveted by some 
 of these beautiful beings. We had never yet seen such gorgeous 
 embroidery as this raiment of needlework, wrought with divers 
 colours—such cloth of gold, and priceless kincob from the looms 
 of Benares; such jewels, worn all over head and body; large 
 emeralds, often destroyed, in our eyes, by being elaborately 
 carved ; pearls, diamonds, and rubies of immense value, set in 
 silver; even the yak’s tails, wherewith the servants flick away the 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 flies from their lord’s presence, often have beautifully jewelled 
 handles. 
 
 The odd thing is, that with all this splendour there is invariably 
 some tawdry ingredient, very often something positively dirty— 
 in short, just such a lack of cleanliness as I have too often noticed 
 in certain churches, where fair white linen has been superseded 
 by richer, but non-washing, materials. As to these natives, one 
 of the commonest additions to their magnificent oriental robes is 
 a pair of common woollen or white cotton gloves, which certainly 
 do look out of place ! 
 
 Moreover in some cases both the Rajahs and their troops 
 assume English uniform, believing imitation to be truest flattery ! 
 But oh, Ichabod! their glory vanishes straightway. The dress 
 and the wearer are utterly incongruous, and the combination is 
 one of hideous vulgarity. 
 
 Of all the native troops none were so picturesque as an artillery 
 camel corps belonging to the Rajah of Putialah. The camels 
 and their riders are draped in scarlet and yellow, and each carries 
 a long gun, which revolves on a swivel fixed to the pommel of 
 the saddle. They are said to be a capital and very efficient corps. 
 An officer who has seen them on service describes how the 
 bombardier, sitting astride behind the gun, loads and fires with 
 wonderful rapidity, apparently placing the poor camel’s head in 
 imminent jeopardy. “The animals move along at a swinging 
 trot, following each other, with long outstretched necks, like a 
 flock of wild geese. At a word they halt, fire a broadside, and 
 jog off again at the rate of fifteen miles an hour.” 
 
 Our acquaintance with camels had hitherto been limited to the 
 Arabian camel or dromedary, with a single hump, which is the 
 only variety now in use in the plains, being by far swifter than 
 the Bactrian camel, to which it bears much the same relation 
 that a hunter does to a cart-horse. Moreover, the foot of the 
 dromedary, which is only fitted for walking on sand or dry earth, 
 naturally points to its use on the parched and arid plains ; whereas, 
 its Bactrian brother has no objection to any amount of hill work. 
 Not that the dromedaries refuse a moderate amount of climbing 
 
ARTILLERY CAMEL CORPS. 
 
 273 
 
 (as we saw at Cairo, where the patient creatures toiled up the 
 steep Mokattem crag, bearing water for the guard at the powder 
 magazine); the only walking which is positive misery to them 
 being over wet or slippery ground, when their feet slide in 
 every direction, and their long legs are in such constant danger 
 of dislocation that it is sometimes necessary to strap them 
 together, compelling the creature to advance with the shortest 
 possible steps. 
 
 The Bactrian camel is preferred for the artillery corps, for the 
 double reason that its foot is better adapted to variety of ground, 
 and also that it can carry nearly double weight. It is, however, 
 far worse-tempered, and in one sense is less enduring than the 
 dromedary, as it cannot go for more than three days without a 
 fresh supply of water; whereas the latter can carry nearly a 
 week’s store in its wonderful cistern stomach, thence drawing at 
 need. On the other hand, the Bactrian camel has a great advan¬ 
 tage in the double hump, whose cells of fat do undoubtedly 
 act as a larder in cases of starvation. Both humps will ac¬ 
 tually shrivel almost up to nothing before the rest of the body 
 wastes from hunger. They are merely excrescences, nowise 
 affecting the structure of the animal, so that it is only a skilful 
 anatomist who can discern between the skeletons of the two 
 species. 
 
 It is said that the most serviceable of all camels are those of 
 mixed breed; that is to say, of Bactrian parentage by Arabian 
 mothers. A corps of two thousand of these was employed by 
 General Harlan in a winter campaign on the snowy Indian 
 Caucasus, and more hardy beasts of burden were never known ; 
 in fact, during seven months only one was lost, and that was 
 killed by an accident. It is a curious fact that the original home 
 of the camel is not known. Apparently no wild species now 
 exist; even those untamed herds which roam on the frontiers of 
 China being all private property. 
 
 Like the elephant, the camel and dromedary move both legs 
 on the same side at once, thus swinging the whole body with 
 an awkward motion, which, like some other novelties, is very 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 unpleasant till you are accustomed to it. Nevertheless, the fact of 
 their being able to travel upwards of seventy miles daily for many 
 consecutive days would make them precious in other lands besides 
 the plains of Asia; but the attempt to transplant them to Europe 
 or America has invariably failed. They seem to pine for home, 
 and very quickly droop and die. The camel express messengers 
 are very striking features in oriental life. The camels are adorned 
 with trappings of gay cloth and tassels, ornamented with blue 
 beads and cowrie shells, and small brass bells round the neck, to 
 give notice of their swift approach. They are guided by a thin 
 cord attached to a bit of wood piercing the nostril. It is said 
 that their rough and rapid trotting, sometimes at the rate of 
 eighty miles a day, is so trying to the riders as to shorten their 
 lives. 
 
 Perhaps the most curious of all the quaint varieties of equipage 
 in the great gathering at Umballa was an English open phaeton 
 drawn by a pair of dromedaries ; and I heard of a similar carriage 
 and four! Anything more utterly incongruous you cannot 
 imagine. Of course, it was an object of special aversion to all 
 other carriages, as no horse can endure meeting either camels or 
 elephants, for which reason both are generally prohibited from 
 appearing on the Mall. 
 
 But as to the native vehicles, they are always picturesque. 
 Scores of queer little ekkas, with their curtained hoods, and high 
 shafts, balancing two wheels, were for ever tearing along as fast as 
 one fat pony could gallop; while the more stately family coach, 
 with its double pyramidal hood (a small hood in front and a large 
 one at the back), all closely draped with scarlet and gold, is 
 drawn by beautiful white oxen very richly caparisoned, and 
 stepping as proudly as though they knew how precious a burden 
 of “lights of the harem,” “coral lips,” “heart’s desires,” “delight 
 of the eyes,” “morning stars,” and other dainty dames, were 
 hidden from the vulgar gaze by that envious drapery. Sometimes 
 a little jewelled hand would cautiously draw back a corner of the 
 curtain, and a pair of beautiful bright eyes would peep forth, and 
 even favour us with a smile; then all too quickly retreat again, 
 
A HINDOO HOLIDAY CROWD. 275 
 
 and leave us to the contemplation of the casket only, wherein 
 were concealed so many dazzling gems. 
 
 As to the turbaned crowd on foot, each ingredient was a picture 
 in itself, and there were thousands upon thousands of such 
 picturesque mortals, each gaily attired, and all turbaned, and 
 perpetually forming new combinations of bright colour in the 
 clear sunlight. There were much the same figures as we had 
 already seen at various holy fairs. Women attired in jackets and 
 in the very tightest of silk trousers, worn on the leanest of legs ; 
 their veils of finest muslin, gold-spangled or plain, as the case 
 may be. Others were more draped. All alike were adorned 
 with every jewel they could muster, including small looking-glasses 
 set in silver and worn as thumb-rings. For the most part they 
 carried a child astride on the hip. Sometimes on the other 
 shoulder sat a still younger child, its head resting on its mother’s. 
 Perhaps the whole family were present, in which case the father 
 probably carried a bamboo across his shoulder from which two 
 large baskets were suspended by long cords. Probably one basket 
 contained a little brown boy, in robes of rich satin or silk, really 
 valuable jewels, and a gay silken cap embroidered with gold ; the 
 other represented the luggage of all the party, food and cooking- 
 pot included. 
 
 Even the varied methods of driving divers animals was not 
 without interest. The bullocks being driven by a rope through 
 the nose, and by a twist of the tail; drawing, as I before said, 
 only by pressure of a wooden yoke against the hump. The camel’s 
 bridle is attached to a piece of wood with small bits of cork, also 
 passing through the nostril. The elephant is generally obedient 
 to his driver’s voice; but if obstinate, a little gentle suasion is 
 applied with a spiked iron prod, horrible to behold. 
 
 Wednesday morning came, and with it should have arrived our 
 Afghan guests. Every one was waiting at the station, at dawn of 
 day, anxiously expecting the train. Crowds of Europeans and 
 brilliantly dressed natives, and a large cavalry escort, waited till 
 they were weary, when tidings were brought that His Highness 
 Shere Ali Khan, Ameer of Afghanistan, had unfortunately eaten 
 
 t 2 
 
2 76 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 a whole bottle of pickles and drunk the vinegar, and would 
 certainly be unable to come till the afternoon. So in the after¬ 
 noon we returned. Again there was a great gathering of Euro¬ 
 peans, as well as of gorgeous natives ; the road was lined with 
 native cavalry and other troops; an escort of Hussars awaited 
 our guests, and altogether the scene was as brilliant as heart 
 could wish. 
 
 The poor Ameer looked decidedly ill, and it must be confessed 
 that he seemed as horribly frightened as you or I might have done, 
 when twenty-one fog-signals successively exploded under the 
 engine as it came in, preparatory to a grand artillery salute 1 You 
 must recollect that the railway was in itself a startling novelty 
 to him, and to one trained from his cradle in the villanous 
 treacheries sanctioned in all Asiatic policy, such a step as ven¬ 
 turing unarmed, and with but a handful of followers, into the heart 
 of the British Empire, might well be accompanied by some qualms, 
 which, however well concealed in general, were likely to be fairly 
 roused by the first fog-signal ! Of the treacheries so freely sanc¬ 
 tioned in the politics of Asia, few better examples can be offered 
 than the career of Shere Ali’s father, Dost Mohammed, who may 
 be said to have founded the Afghan kingdom by the assassination 
 of one after another of the leading chiefs, till all power was vested 
 in his own hands. He appointed Shere Ali, his third son, as his 
 successor, a decision naturally objected to by his elder brothers, 
 and one which led to five years’ civil war ere his position was 
 established, and he himself recognised by the British Government 
 and accepted as an ally. 
 
 Next morning all the troops turned out at daybreak for a 
 grand review, but His Highness, not having quite got over the 
 pickles, deferred it till the afternoon—rather to the disgust of all 
 concerned, as the morning was exquisite. Happily the evening 
 proved just as fine, so we magnanimously forgave him. It was 
 a beautiful field. The mixture of native troops in turbans, the 
 79th Highlanders, with their tall feather bonnets defying the sun ; 
 the European cavalry and artillery with white helmets; the pic¬ 
 turesque corps of native horse; and the brilliant native foreground, 
 
HOLY WEEK. 
 
 277 
 
 with camels, bullocks, elephants, and horses, without number, each 
 with trappings and housing more brilliant than its neighbour. In 
 the background lay the city of white tents and dark trees ; and far 
 beyond all, bathed in the soft evening light, lay the snow-capped 
 Himalayas, aim and end of our wanderings. 
 
 The next morning dawned with a strange feeling of incongruity. 
 It was Good Friday. How it came to pass that the Holy Week 
 should have been the season of all others selected for this Grand 
 Durbar I do not know, but the utter lack of harmony between 
 scene and season jarred at every turn. Umballa has the advantage 
 of an unusually fine church—quite the best I saw in India—with 
 a full complement of well-ordered services. These would, I 
 believe, have carried the day if balanced against commonplace 
 pomps and vanities; but when it became a question of such 
 irresistible barbaric pageants, why, we argued like that worthy 
 Scot, a keen fisherman, who (looking from his windows one lovely 
 Sabbath morning on the quiet trout stream gliding beneath the 
 birch-trees) determined that “ he wadna bide to be tempted, he 
 wad just gang ! ” So the week slipped by, in the difficult attempt 
 to combine things incompatible, and with the usual result; for too 
 often the loud clear tones of the bells that sounded athwart the 
 plain to call all Christian people to matins or evensong rang 
 vainly in our ears ; too wholly engrossed by the strange new sights 
 and sounds that surrounded us. 
 
 But on this one great day the Ameer was informed that there 
 could be no reviews, for it was the Christian’s holiest day, and 
 from morning till night there was a succession of services, when 
 the great church was crowded to overflowing. But as we crossed 
 the plain in the afternoon we found a greater gathering than we 
 had yet seen, for all the Rajahs and their retainers were rehearsing 
 their part in the great pageant of the morrow, being therein 
 instructed by the English authorities. 
 
 Again the church was crowded, and “ a great company of 
 Christian people ” knelt in its solemn twilight, but strove in vain 
 to shut out the jarring sounds of the outer world ; for just as the 
 service commenced the distant roar of voices drew nearer and 
 
2/8 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 nearer, and the whole array of Heathendom slowly marched back 
 to its own camp, passing right in front of the great western door; 
 every strange fantastic form, of camels with long guns, elephants 
 with their howdahs, men on horseback, men on foot, all seeming 
 weird and unearthly as they cut black against the flood of golden 
 sunset-light. It was vain alike for the organ to pour forth its most 
 solemn tones, or for the full clear voice of the preacher to attempt 
 to make itself heard above that maddening din—the voices of 
 native officers shouting to their men, the beating of tomtoms, the 
 jingling bells of all the elephants, the creaking of wheels, the 
 march of that vast mass of human beings, while each regiment 
 had its own band playing every conceivable tune simultaneously 
 —operas, valses, polkas, every horrible discord you can possibly 
 imagine. 
 
 It was a strange accompaniment to that grand service. 
 
 I doubt whether Mohammedan authorities in a Mohammedan 
 city would have thus suffered a Christian procession to silence 
 the worship of their Mosque; but, you see, they are not troubled 
 with false shame in these matters, and do not try to hide their 
 faith in any corner, so it be out of sight. 
 
 By daybreak the following morning all the world was astir, to 
 receive the Governor-General. The English and native cavalry 
 were drawn up at the station as his escort. A broad green road 
 right across the Maidan led direct from the station to the Vice¬ 
 regal camp, a distance of two miles, the whole of which was 
 lined, on either side, with a living wall of Rajahs, and all their 
 belongings—their troops, their camels, their elephants. The 
 effect was somewhat spoilt by the width of the road, whereby all 
 effect of rich detail was lost. As the viceregal carriages and their 
 Hussar escort came slowly down the middle, each band in turn 
 struck up “ God save the Queen,” and as all played in different 
 keys, and began in succession, the effect was truly astonishing, 
 yea, electrifying ! There was an attempt at a cheer, but the 
 Hindoo lungs, however willing, seem quite incapable of making 
 themselves heard in that form. 
 
 This procession having reached the white tent where floated 
 
A DINGY GUEST. 
 
 279 
 
 England’s flag, with the Himalayan background, we next drove 
 to a corner of the plain, where we knew the whole of that vast 
 array must march past us; and this, I think, was the prettiest 
 sight of all. It was the first time we fully realised the mass of 
 human beings present, and they all passed so close to us that we 
 had full leisure to inspect every detail of physiognomy, armour, 
 dress, and jewellery, both of men and animals. 
 
 In the afternoon we returned to the Viceregal camp, to be 
 present at that embodiment of all our dreams of Oriental splen¬ 
 dour—a Grand Durbar—of which, as of most kindred enjoyments, 
 one taste proved sufficient. We would not have missed it on any 
 account, but henceforth we can sympathise with the Frenchman’s 
 summary of the joys of hunting, and say with infinite satisfaction, 
 “J’y a i etc-'” or, we may say, as Horace Walpole did of the 
 coronation of George III., “Well, it was all delightful, but not 
 half so charming as its being over ! ” 
 
 The 79th Flighlanders were on duty, as were also the 4th 
 Hussars. On one side of the great tent were seated all the 
 English ladies; on the other sat all the gorgeous Rajahs, and 
 between them stood the unoccupied throne. In due time the 
 Governor-General arrived, and walked up to the throne. Then 
 followed a most awkward pause. The Ameer had somehow been 
 delayed; and as it seemed against etiquette for the Viceroy to 
 speak to any lesser potentate on such an occasion, every one 
 stood waiting in a silence which befcame more and more oppres¬ 
 sive. At length he came, accompanied by his nice little son, 
 a pretty child with large dark eyes, the pet of the harem, and 
 his father’s special darling. He and all his followers were dressed 
 as usual, in a sort of dirty old brown dressing-gown, with a tall 
 black Astrakan cap; his retainers being a few shades dingier than 
 himself, and presenting a striking contrast to the array of mag¬ 
 nificently dressed native chiefs, who had assembled to grace the 
 reception of the ally whom England delighted to honour. 
 
 On these occasions the number of steps which a great man 
 must advance to meet his guest are all matters of rigid etiquette ; 
 Lord Mayo, being desirous to do great honour to the Ameer, 
 
28 o 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 advanced to receive him as far as the door of the tent, and they 
 returned, I think, hand in hand. As they passed up to the 
 throne, and there sat for some time conversing, I think all 
 present felt proud of England’s representative, and glad that the 
 dignity of our Queen and of our race should be so well upheld 
 before these native princes, as they assuredly were, by one so 
 calm and stately, and withal so thoroughly courteous and genial, 
 as was he whose untimely death India and Britain were so soon to 
 mourn. 
 
 In striking contrast with his dignified mien and commanding 
 presence was the appearance of the dark dingy man, with the 
 subtle, cunning eyes, and arrayed in the dirty brown robe, and tall 
 woollen hat, who certainly did not impress us favourably at the 
 time. Yet I think that when two years later tidings reached 
 England of that dastardly murder at which the whole world stood 
 aghast, there were few who were not touched by the genuine 
 sympathy and personal sorrow shown in the letter of the Ameer to 
 the Acting Viceroy, in which, after speaking of the universal love 
 and esteem in which Lord Mayo was held for his many high and 
 excellent qualities, and of his own personal loss in the death of 
 his friend, he added, that the unvarying kindness and friendship 
 shown him by Lord Mayo had been such as to induce him to 
 determine (should the affairs of Afghanistan permit of such a step) 
 to accompany his Excellency on his return to England, that he 
 might have the gratification of a personal interview with Her 
 Majesty, as well as the pleasure of travelling in Europe. Such 
 trust spoke volumes for the confidence inspired by the Viceroy’s 
 wise policy, and for the influence he had acquired with these half- 
 civilised sons of the mountains. Blow far the loss of that wise 
 strong counsellor may account for subsequent events it is of course 
 impossible to say. 
 
 The conversation at the Durbar was all carried on through an 
 interpreter, and in a low voice, and while we, the spectators, all sat 
 round in dead silence, gazing at the two great men, we could 
 perceive that Lord Mayo sometimes had hard work to suppress 
 a smile. For, as we afterwards learnt, Afghan phraseology is 
 
DISMAL POMP. 
 
 28l 
 
 peculiar, as you may judge from the Ameer’s reply to a courteous 
 inquiry whether all arrangements had been made for his comfort, 
 that since entering the British territory his stomach had been full! 
 Some other replies were equally remarkable. 
 
 The Queen’s presents to the Ameer were next produced; trays 
 without number were carried in and laid at his feet, and removed 
 again. Silver hubble-bubbles, clocks, trays full of gold and silver 
 ornaments, musical boxes, field-glasses, vases, guns and pistols 
 innumerable, gold-embroidered shoes, dresses of richest brocaded 
 silk of every colour of the rainbow, stiff with gold embroidery, 
 rich Cashmere raiment for his favourite wife, and jewels for her 
 and for the child. Of course it would be unseemly that he should 
 even glance at these things, far less seem pleased. Yet at the 
 sight of the fire-arms his eyes sparkled, for he was an out-and-out 
 soldier, who cared for nothing so much as weapons, and the 
 pleasure of using them. In addition to the trifles above named, 
 which were valued at ^5,000, England presented her ally with a 
 whole battery of artillery (nine-pounders), also with many 
 elephants and horses, and a sum of £12,000 in money. 
 
 The interview lasted about half an hour, after which the two 
 great men departed, and the Viceroy having escorted Shere Ali 
 Khan to the door, had the satisfaction of himself escaping for a 
 gallop on the Maidan, leaving all the gorgeous Rajahs and 
 Europeans still sitting in solemn silence round the tent, and the 
 Durbar was over. 
 
 Ere we dispersed, however, we took another lesson in Eastern 
 courtesies, and learnt by what small distinctions our degrees of 
 homage may be varied. So soon as the Ameer had driven off, 
 having received his full salute, two aides-de-camp returned, and 
 silently taking the great Rajah of Putialah by each hand, led him 
 out. Then one of them returned, and handed out each lesser 
 Rajah by one hand, each being on his departure saluted by one or 
 two guns fewer than his predecessor, till the turn came for the 
 very small ones, who got no hand, and no salute at all! It is 
 scarcely possible for an Englishman to realise what immense 
 importance the natives attach to these minute distinctions, or how 
 
282 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 immeasurable is the distance between the man who ranks as a 
 five-gun Rajah and he who is entitled to fifteen ! 
 
 Easter morning dawned fresh and home-like, with a light breeze, 
 cool and balmy. It was still early when we reached the crowded 
 church, whence a very large military congregation had already 
 dispersed. The building, as I before remarked, is so good as to 
 be quite exceptional, with very fine stained glass. The Easter 
 decorations were lovely. Masses of roses and jessamine, and all 
 green things of the earth, not reduced to the exceeding refinement 
 of modern English decorations, but a good old-fashioned wealth of 
 flowers, in great bunches and garlands, and twining in festoons 
 round every pillar and arch. I suppose this was the work of some 
 of the soldiers, and there was a well-trained military choir.- 
 
 A vast number of natives assembled near the door to see the 
 congregation “ scale,” as we say in the north. Not a very 
 entertaining process, I fear! I think after that, they must all have 
 gone to sleep, for the town seemed empty, and the quiet of that 
 evening’s service was in very marked contrast with the pan¬ 
 demonium during that of Good Friday. As we wended our 
 homeward way, there was no sound to disturb the “ soft stillness 
 of the Indian night,” save an occasional bugle-call, or the silent 
 footsteps of some peaceful pedestrian like ourselves. 
 
 One more day was devoted to the Afghans. By sunrise all 
 were astir to see a grand review and sham fight—a scene so 
 picturesque as to make everything of the sort in Britain seem 
 utterly commonplace, not even excepting the great Volunteer 
 Reviews at Holyrood, with Arthur’s Seat and its living throng for 
 a background. The ground itself was admirable, the great plain 
 affording ample room for the movement of troops, and the sur¬ 
 rounding trees, fields, and bridges serving as an enemy’s country, 
 where they might skirmish to their hearts’ content, appear¬ 
 ing and disappearing through the clouds of their own smoke. 
 But to me the endless centre of delight lay in the native spectators. 
 I might tell you, till you were weary, of groups of twenty or 
 thirty elephants here, a score of camels there, and all the other 
 ingredients of that enchanting kaleidoscope, but I could not give 
 
BAG-PIPES. 
 
 283 
 
 you the faintest idea of the life, colour, and movement that 
 surrounded us on that sunny fresh morning as we rapidly drove 
 from point to point. 
 
 The Ameer scanned the field with the keen eye of an old 
 soldier, and in Oriental phrase, compared it to a fair garden with 
 many blossoms, those on which his eye rested with most 
 pleasure being the Highlanders and the artillery. He showed 
 his appreciation of the former by bestowing large backsheesh 
 on the fifteen pipers, whose wild music doubtless pleased his 
 ear far better than the more polished strains to which in the 
 Viceroy’s tent he listened so politely. Probably they carried him 
 back to his own wild hills, and his own regiments of sturdy hill 
 men. 
 
 Do you remember how much Sir Walter Scott was interested in 
 noticing the similarities of these Afghan Highlanders with our 
 own ancestors ? The intense love of both for a wild untrammelled 
 life, the same curious superstitions, the same quaint method of 
 divination by reading marks on a sheep-bone whereon knife had 
 never come, the same frugal adherence to one meal a day, the 
 same curious form of submission, when resistance had proved 
 utterly hopeless, by delivering up their sword held by the point, 
 then laying their head on a block as if to await death. This last 
 acme of humiliation is one which, we may hope, did not often 
 occur in the north ! 
 
 The admiration of many of the hill tribes for the Scotch bag¬ 
 pipes has often attracted attention. During Sir John Lawrence’s 
 Durbar at Lahore, the Maharajah of Cashmere was so enchanted 
 by the pipers of the 93rd Highlanders that he sent an embassy to 
 Sealcote requesting that some of his own men might be taught the 
 use of the pipes; and another chief sent to Scotland direct for 
 divers stands of pipes, to ensure his getting the genuine article. 
 It is said, too, that in Nepaul, where a variety of the same instru¬ 
 ment is now considered national music, it was first introduced 
 by a Scotch officer of the name of Macrae, a Highlander from 
 Kintail, who beguiled his leisure by playing the old pipes, and 
 teaching the natives to do likewise. 
 
284 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 But, however much the Ameer admired the Highlanders, his 
 keenest interest was reserved for the cavalry and artillery ; more 
 especially the Mountain Mule Battery, which consists of small guns, 
 each of which can at a moment’s notice be separated from its 
 carriage and its wheels, and, together with its ammunition, may be 
 carried almost anywhere by sturdy mules, and at once be made 
 ready for action. These were to the Mountain Chief a source of 
 intense interest, and England’s gift of a similar battery was to him 
 a matter of unfeigned delight. 
 
 Having thus seen His Highness in his own element, it only 
 remained for us to meet him once more at the Viceroy’s evening 
 reception, or, as the natives would say, at the Lord Sahib’s and the 
 Lady Sahib’s great feast. There he appeared with all his attend¬ 
 ants, in the identical brown dressing-gowns and tall black caps of 
 curly sheep-skin, looking dingier and dirtier than ever, in contrast 
 with the magnificent evening raiment of the bejewelled Rajahs ; 
 to say nothing of the multitude of English ladies present. What 
 may have been the Ameer’s private opinion of the latter I know 
 not, for he had learnt wisdom in his travels, and kept his own 
 counsel. He had been less cautious, a few days previously, 
 when all the beauty and fashion of Peshawur had turned out 
 to receive him ; when, after coolly surveying them all, he re¬ 
 marked to the gentlemen beside him, that he perceived that the 
 English, just like their neighbours, kept all the pretty women safe 
 at hbme ! 
 
 This reception was held in great tents opening one into another, 
 and it was curious to see the Ameer and the Rajahs being formally 
 led about by the hand whenever it pleased them to pass from one 
 tent to the next. As to the Rajahs, they looked like a body of 
 magnificent dowagers ; you almost expected to see white satin 
 shoes, instead of brown bare feet, appearing from beneath their 
 splendid brocades. One magnificent old chief attracted my 
 special admiration. He was robed in green velvet, and his show of 
 diamonds was moderate yet priceless. Some of the other Rajahs 
 were like locomotive diamond mines. One, whose head-dress 
 blazed with gems was dressed in dark green and brown velvets 
 
RECENT HISTORY. 285 
 
 richly embroidered, and even his attendants were draped in 
 priceless raiment of needlework in the form of costly shawls. 
 
 The admiration of the ladies was divided between these heavy 
 butterflies and the Ameer’s pretty son with the large dark eyes. 
 This child, Abdoolla, seemed at that time destined to play some 
 part in Afghan history, Shere Ali having determined to repeat his 
 father’s political blunder, and (passing over his two elder sons) had 
 appointed Abdoolla his successor, thus threatening once more to 
 plunge his country in civil war ; a war which would have been the 
 more certain, inasmuch as the second son, Yakoob Khan, was a 
 man of rare ability and bravery, and one who, as governor of Herat, 
 had gained vast popularity with his subjects. 
 
 It is said that Shere Ali’s success in securing the throne was 
 greatly due to Yakoob’s wise tactics and firm support. Yet so 
 small a part does gratitude play in Eastern politics, that when, in 
 1874, Shere Ali formally declared Abdoolla his successor, he did 
 not scruple to induce Yakoob to pay him a friendly visit in Cabul, 
 under pretext of reconsidering the question, and treacherously 
 detained him prisoner. On that occasion British influence suc¬ 
 ceeded in averting the ordinary Asiatic catastrophe, and induced 
 the Ameer to recognise Yakoob Khan as his heir. 
 
 Britain’s influence however, was not of long duration. We all 
 know how quickly the promise of peace melted away, to be 
 followed by the prolonged Afghan war. In r878 Shere Ali 
 abandoned Cabul, leaving Yakoob Khan to carry on the war with 
 Britain, while he himself found a refuge on the northern frontier, 
 where he died a few months later. 
 
 Peace was signed in May 1879 by Yakoob Khan and Major 
 Cavagnari. The British army then returned to India. Cavagnari 
 was appointed Resident, and arrived at Cabul in July. In the 
 beginning of September he and his companions, Mr. Jenkyns, 
 Lieutenant Hamilton, V.C., and Dr. Kelly, were treacherously 
 murdered. Then followed the second part of the Afghan war. 
 The British forces under General Roberts returned to Cabul. 
 Yakoob Khan resigned early in October, and was sent to India, and 
 new blood was introduced in the person of Abdul Rahman Khan, 
 
286 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 who was appointed Ameer, and appears to hold his position 
 satisfactorily. 
 
 These circumstances add interest to the recollection of the little 
 child at the Durbar, who greatly excited our commiseration, because, 
 being trained up in the way he should go, he was only allowed two 
 meals a day, and having breakfasted at daybreak had tasted nothing 
 since then. How he must have longed for his supper! Nevertheless 
 he looked quite happy, and stood by the piano, watching the 
 motion of the inner leathers with a child’s usual delight. There 
 was some excellent singing, but I believe all oriental races consider 
 that music is the one thing of which we are incapable, infinitely 
 preferring their own wearisome, monotonous chants. 
 
 The following morning we bade adieu to Umballa, which con¬ 
 tinued in a state of ferment for some days longer, ere the British 
 and native camps broke up, and the multitude of visitors 
 once more scattered to their divers quarters. We were, however, 
 anxious to reach Simla, and so started without further delay, 
 travelling as far as Kalka at the foot of the hills by dak or 
 post gharry—a mode of travelling the joys of which have been 
 pretty often described, but never amended. The gharry itself is 
 comfortable enough. It is in fact a small travelling van, a long 
 box on wheels, hung high on account of the streams which may 
 have to be forded. A sliding door on each side acts as a window; 
 there is no glass, of course, so though you may shut out the sun in 
 some measure, there is no chance of excluding dust, which pours 
 in in stifling clouds. Level with the door is a long cushion 
 whereon you lie at full length; generally your bedding is unrolled 
 and outspread, so as to be less in your way. To sit up you must 
 either squat like a Hindoo, or send your toes out of the door. 
 There is a well beneath the carriage in which your smaller 
 luggage is stowed, but this has to be removed to the top if the 
 rivers are swollen. Inside the gharry are all manner of pockets 
 and shelves for your books, sketching-blocks, dressing materials, 
 food, and so forth. In short it is a house on wheels. As a 
 general rule each person has a gharry to himself, as it is rather 
 close quarters for two, especially on a long journey and in 
 
TRAVELLING BY DAK. 287 
 
 hot weather and choking dust. So far, nothing could be more 
 suitable to the work. 
 
 But the crown of sorrows lies in the unhappy team; miserable 
 brutes, whose happier days, if they ever had any, have been long 
 forgotten, and to whom the knacker’s yard would be a blessed 
 release from the torture of daily life. At each stage they seem 
 to grow worse and worse, so that to start them on a fresh run 
 is work for a dozen men, and never done under half an hour. 
 On a tolerably good road you are only allowed one horse; should 
 a second be necessary, he is harnessed outside the shafts, as an 
 outrigger, and simply runs alongside. At every halt you are 
 sure of some trouble before you are again under way ; constantly 
 the poor beasts that await you are galled, and exhausted by their 
 last run. 
 
 Should they chance to be fresh they are brought out biting, 
 screaming, plunging, kicking, rearing; held by main force of a 
 dozen coolies and syces. Once harnessed, nothing will induce 
 them to move. Vainly all their attendants seize the wheels, and 
 turn them so as to force on the gharry. The stubborn brutes 
 either turn right round, or throw themselves down. Then some 
 burning straw is produced, which probably brings them to their 
 feet again. A rope is now tied to their forelegs, another to their 
 heads, the wheels are turned by strong arms, and thus they are 
 dragged along for perhaps a mile, accompanied by an ant-like 
 black swarm of all but naked coolies, screaming, howling, 
 yelling, shoving, beating; alternately pouring forth maledictions 
 and persuasions, terms of endearment and of opprobrium, with 
 amazing volubility. 
 
 After half an hour has thus been wasted, the steeds pro¬ 
 bably go off at a tearing gallop, when you fully expect to 
 land in the ditch. Perhaps after a while you fall asleep. You 
 awake to find everything at a standstill. The coachwanee and 
 syce are quietly hubble-bubbling (i.e. smoking) together by the 
 roadside; the wheels are sunk up to the axle in a bed of sand 
 and shingle, or wet kunker (which becomes a sort of heavy clay), 
 for the roads have been cut up with heavy traffic, and long 
 
2 SS 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 trains of bullock-waggons are working their way to Simla, with 
 the heavy baggage of the whole English community. 
 
 There is nothing for it but to wait patiently till a squad of 
 men can be collected ; all passers-by are impressed, and lend 
 their aid to extricate the wheels from the deep ruts. Sometimes 
 even this fails; then you must wait till bullocks can be pro¬ 
 cured to drag you through the mire ; and then comes all the 
 trouble of another harnessing and another start. 
 
 About nine hours of this work brought us to Kalka; at the 
 foot of the Himalayas, which cast their grand cool shadows far 
 over the weary land. Here we still have the rich vegetation of 
 the plains. Sugar-cane, maize, plantains, all manner of flowering 
 shrubs, the sweet babool tree, with its silky yellow blossoms, and 
 tall date-palms (we have seen no cocoa palms since we left Calcutta 
 and the sea breezes). 
 
 Kalka is a pretty village, wonderfully like Dunkeld without the 
 river. These low spurs of the Himalayas are just like average bits 
 of Scotland, only rather more abrupt, with red sand cliffs. The 
 resemblance is further increased by our having to decide between 
 the rival claims of Bain’s Inn or MacBarnet’s Hotel. In either case, 
 however, the landlady proves a talkative half-caste. We selected 
 the former—with a jovial, bustling old landlady, who evidently ruled 
 her natives with a rod of iron. 
 
 From Kalka to Simla, you have your choice of two routes, the 
 old and the new; the former the more picturesque, the latter the 
 better road ; so much better, that on our return from Simla we 
 drove back all the way to Kalka. Once you reach Simla no 
 wheeled vehicle of any sort is allowed, for fear of accidents; 
 indeed I believe that the driving to Simla was a short-lived 
 experiment, very soon prohibited on account of its danger. 
 
 But no carriages had been started at this time. There were 
 only the bullock-carts in which vast quantities of luggage and 
 stores were being conveyed to Simla. Human beings had either 
 to ride, or to be carried by coolies in a jampan , a doolie, or a 
 dandie. The first is a sort of uncomfortable armchair, with four 
 poles and curtains, in which you are carried on a level with the 
 
1IILL CARRIAGES. 
 
 289 
 
 shoulders of your bearers. The second is a narrow bed, in a long 
 curtained box. In this you are carried almost on a level with 
 the ground, and get all the dust from the men’s feet. Moreover 
 you are so low that you can never see over the parapet, which 
 protects the outer edge of the road, all the way to Simla. Both 
 jampan and doolie are carried by relays of four men at a time, 
 and the motion is just like continuous trotting without a stirrup. 
 
 These vehicles are first cousins to the old English sedan-chairs 
 of our grandmothers—grandfathers too, according to Thackeray’s 
 description of the time of George III., when a day of fashion¬ 
 able life invariably ended “ by making two wretches carry you 
 home in a sedan-chair, with three pints of claret in you; 
 three miles for one shilling.” Of the three vehicles afore¬ 
 said, I infinitely preferred the dandie, of which there are two 
 varieties. In one of these you sit up as in a chair, looking 
 straight before you — this is called a canoe. In the other you 
 sit sideways in a bit of carpet slung on a bamboo ; and feel 
 much less motion, especially when only carried by two men 
 at a time. 
 
 We had already despatched all our heavy baggage by bullock 
 train ; nevertheless we found that fifty coolies were necessary to 
 carry ourselves and our small goods—a regiment which assem¬ 
 bled beneath our windows long before daybreak, talking and 
 bubble-bubbling in a style that insured our not over-sleeping 
 ourselves. 
 
 From Kalka to Simla is generally considered a four days’ march, 
 at the rate of about fourteen miles a day. Of course a rider can 
 get over the ground faster, but if it is a question of being jolted 
 along by coolies, fourteen miles involves sufficient fatigue for one 
 day, even for the person carried, as the motion much resembles 
 rough trotting without a stirrup ! 
 
 There is, however, nothing in the way of beauty to tempt 
 one to linger. These low spurs of the Himalayas are singularly 
 uninviting to the artistic eye, especially in this early spring time 
 (I speak of the beginning of April), when the great swelling 
 mountains seem altogether arid and barren — vast shapeless 
 
 u 
 
2go 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 masses of dry red earth, without so much as a wreath of kindly 
 vapour to lend mystery to their ugliness. There is something 
 intensely wearisome in this endless succession of long unbroken 
 lines, extending from far overhead to the deep valleys below. 
 Every hill-side or khad, as these braes are called, is so exceed¬ 
 ingly steep that it becomes a most difficult (I might say danger¬ 
 ous) scramble to keep your footing, the moment you step off the 
 road. 
 
 Yet it has none of the beauty that you might expect from such 
 precipitous ground ; in fact, till you go two or three marches above 
 Simla, you need never expect to see a natural precipice. The 
 only suggestion of such a thing is caused by the cutting of the road, 
 which, as it winds along the face of the hill, certainly has a con¬ 
 siderable rock wall on the inner side. 
 
 The timber, too, is of very average size and interest; small pine 
 trees, immense quantities of wild barberry, and great cacti (I had 
 almost said cactus trees, they are so large) stretch out their bare 
 jointed arms like huge candelabra, with invisible yellow blossoms ■ 
 not the handsome palmated cactus of the plains, but a much more 
 ghostly plant. I am quite aware that these our first impressions 
 of these hills were unfavourable. When we returned over the 
 same ground after the rains, those steep red khads 1 were clothed 
 in a verdure so brilliant that they seemed to us like richly-shaded 
 velvet draperies, over which the light mists floated in soft gauze¬ 
 like clouds. But now there was no such illusion, and when we 
 reached our first night’s destination, at a little roadside bungalow, 
 near the Military Hill Station of Dagshai, we agreed that we had 
 rarely seen anything more truly hideous than these great bleak 
 hills. 
 
 Of course they were not without some redeeming features. 
 Here and there the great red khads were gemmed with patches 
 of vivid green, marking where diligent hands had been at work, 
 cultivating tiny fields in long narrow terraces, only a few feet wide, 
 wherever a morsel of ground could be levelled. These very crops 
 were among the beautiful things that delighted us later in the year, 
 
 1 Steep hill-side. 
 
THE DAK BUNGALOW. 
 
 291 
 
 when they had turned to scarlet and gold, matted with brilliant 
 white and blue convolvuli, and attracting clouds of lustrous butter¬ 
 flies. Even now there was a wealth of wild flowers, and my coolies, 
 true highland lads, were for ever darting up and down the steep 
 khad to bring me some new treasure; so that very soon my 
 jampan (the funereal armchair with the black curtains) was all 
 wreathed with wild roses and long trails of delicate white clematis 
 and sweet jessamine. 
 
 Our halt each night was at a dak bungalow; in other words a 
 Government rest-house, where on payment of one rupee, every 
 traveller has a right to remain four-and-twenty hours, at the end 
 of which he may be required by any new comer to move on. 
 The larger bungalows have accommodation for six or eight sets 
 of travellers; that is to say six or eight rooms, each containing 
 a table, two or three chairs, and a charpoy or bedstead. Each 
 room opens on to the public verandah, where all the servants 
 sleep, and as the door is generally open for air, it is provided 
 with a chick, or thin blind made of grass. This room also opens 
 into an inner bath-room, and that again to the outer air, so that 
 each room has its own front and back door, thereby securing 
 thorough ventilation. 
 
 Every bungalow is supplied with a regular staff of Government 
 servants, and the khansamah, or head man, will supply you with 
 food on his own terms. Not that he has much variety. The 
 inevitable moorghie (chicken) alternates with mutton with un¬ 
 erring regularity. The moment you arrive and call out for 
 food, you are certain to hear a scuffle among the poultry, and 
 should you be rash enough to look out at the back door, you 
 would certainly see an unlucky hen having her throat cut 
 according to the injunctions of the Prophet. (Of course these 
 men must be Mohammedans, as no Hindoo would touch an un¬ 
 clean hen, sacred beef, or many other good things dear to the 
 gluttonous English.) The moment the hen is dead she is plunged 
 in boiling water, which saves all trouble in plucking, as her 
 feathers then come off with a rub, and half an hour later she 
 appears at your table, either as a “grilled moorghie," or disguised 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS, 
 
 in an excellent curry. Bread you are not likely to find, but chupat- 
 ties, which are very thick flour scones, are the order of the day. 
 
 A most unexpected addition to our little nursery party occa¬ 
 sioned a considerable detention at Kyrie Ghat, about sixteen miles 
 from Simla, and gave us ample opportunities of studying the 
 manner's and customs of dak bungalows, and of the very varied 
 travellers who halt there—the loud and self-asserting, who try to 
 impress the public with a vague idea that they must be “ somebody 
 in particular,” the courteous and unassuming, and all the inter¬ 
 mediate species. It was certainly not a spot conducive to the 
 ideal quiet of a sick room ! And besides, we were painfully aware 
 that the new comers must necessarily be over-crowded in conse¬ 
 quence of our compulsory detention, though all were most kind in 
 making the best of the situation. 
 
 Every one was. now pressing up to Simla, to escape from the 
 heat, which was already beginning to be oppressive in the plains, 
 whereas here the air was balmy and delicious, and a cool, sweet 
 breeze came to us from the far-away snow peaks, which we could 
 just discern on the horizon. But of “ mountain stillness ” we 
 experienced little, for though, happily, the majority of travellers 
 selected the old road, there was a continual influx of new comers, 
 each accompanied by thirty or forty chattering coolies, who, 
 together with the unhappy servants, vainly attempted to keep 
 themselves warm in the chilly night by continual smoking—and 
 a hubble-bubble is stick a noisy, gurgling pipe. Then with the 
 earliest glimmer of the dawn, they were all astir, and such a 
 clatter ensued of breakfast and packing, and getting away again ! 
 
 And all night long the jackals were careering about, and 
 uttering unearthly yells close to the house ; sometimes rushing on 
 to the verandah in their mad scampers. Sometimes they even 
 come into the empty rooms, and curl themselves up in a corner. 
 
 And worse than the jackals is the Chokidar, or policeman, who 
 guards each house all night, and is bound to yell from time to 
 time to prove that he is awake. An admirable method of im¬ 
 proving the sleep of the neighbours, and of showing thieves 
 whereabouts he is ! 
 
LIFE AT KYRIE GHAT. 
 
 293 
 
 And day and night alike there was the incessant grinding of 
 never-ending strings of heavy bullock-waggons, with their creaking 
 wooden wheels, making almost as much noise as the “ kites ”— 
 which to Indian ears speaks volumes. These bullock-trains were 
 perpetually passing up and down the steep hill road, either taking 
 baggage to Simla, or returning heavily laden with wood. 
 
 One poor bullock sank exhausted near our windows, and was 
 of course left to die. We would fain have had it shot, but no one 
 dared touch the poor sacred creature. All we could do was to carry 
 water to it in a brass basin, but it was too ill to drink. Next 
 morning it died, and the first passers-by threw its carcase down the 
 khad. Meanwhile eagles, kites, and vultures had assembled in a 
 great body on the hill above us. We watched them perched in a 
 row, expectant, till apparently one gave a signal — their dinner-bell, 
 I suppose, whereupon they all swooped down simultaneously, and 
 started fair. In ten minutes, only the carcase remained, picked 
 quite clean, and the bones were finally polished by swarms of ants. 
 
 Another day a large troop of monkeys came over the mountains 
 to have a look at us ; but our favourite playfellows were two lovely 
 little black and white silky Indian kids, “ Kidlings blithe and 
 merry” — the veriest darlings — which were for ever running away 
 from their natural companions, the cook’s black babies, and 
 coming to skip about our room, and dance attendance on the 
 new white baby. 
 
 Besides the travellers who actually put up at the bungalow there 
 were sundry others who brought their own tents, and who would 
 gladly have camped elsewhere, could they have found a morsel of 
 level ground. But such a thing literally does not exist in any 
 part of the Himalayas that I have seen. Even the tiny spots on 
 which all the bungalows are perched have invariably been 
 artificially levelled. And so at Kyrie Ghat, the only level ground 
 within many miles is a small bit in front of the house. 
 
 Here one day we had a most picturesque arrival, namely, that 
 new Artillery Corps, the Mountain Battery, which had attracted so 
 much admiration from the Afghans at Umballa. It was now 
 going for the first time to the hills, to be quartered at Jatog, near 
 
294 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Simla. They were marching in detachments. The first day all 
 the married men, women, children, and sick came up. They had 
 covered carts, in which to live night and day, but as a terrific 
 thunderstorm came on as usual, at night we shared our quarters 
 with some of the women. 
 
 They had scarcely departed the following morning, when the 
 whole battery came up. Such a “ natty ” corps, with their beautiful 
 little guns all taken to pieces ; wheels, carriage, gun, and ninety 
 rounds of ammunition for each gun; all packed so neatly on 
 many mules. I think there were a hundred and seventy mules 
 to six guns. Also a considerable number of bullock-carts with 
 baggage, and a long string of camels bringing up the tents. The 
 camels came and knelt beside our verandah, with their noses 
 almost in at the windows. Then they retired, as did also the 
 mules, which were picketed on a narrow ridge below us. In less 
 than no time the guns were put up in front of the verandah, and 
 the white tents beyond, while the bullock-carts were drawn up 
 for the night all along the road, and the blue smoke from all their 
 fires made up a very picturesque scene. Of human beings, there 
 were about ninety artillerymen in white uniform, with white 
 helmets, and a great number of native mule-drivers in dark-blue 
 uniform with scarlet turbans. 
 
 I can never forget the kindness of those men when they heard 
 that a lady was ill in the house, and their hearty good wishes for 
 the tiny little one, whose young life had commenced in so strange 
 a home. Literally, there was scarcely a sound to be heard. Cer¬ 
 tainly not a tithe of the noise made by many private parties; 
 though I must say that these, one and all, had done their utmost 
 to hush their servants and their coolies. Next morning at day¬ 
 break we saw the last of the gunners. For as the sun rose 
 
 “ They folded their tents like the Arabs, 
 
 And as silently stole away.” 
 
 That is to say, their departure would have been silent (and so, 
 perhaps, would that of Longfellow’s Arabs), but, unfortunately, 
 where camels are to be loaded there never can be silence; if they 
 
A STORM ON THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 295 
 
 are not grunting, and roaring angrily, and showing their wicked 
 ■teeth, they are groaning so plaintively that it is heartbreaking to 
 hear them. And I think, perhaps, we should groan too, if we had 
 a bit of wood passed through our nostrils, and jerked, to make us 
 kneel down. All the time a camel’s load is being adjusted, some 
 one holds a rope passed round the neck and under the leg, to 
 prevent his rising. When he is loaded, one vigorous shake and 
 struggle brings him to his legs, and he stalks off, still grunting and 
 groaning as he goes. 
 
 On the crest of the hill, high above the house, we could just 
 discern a small hill temple, whence from time to time some 
 solitary worshipper descended by a steep craggy path to our lower 
 world. This temple we determined to explore. It was late in 
 the afternoon before we started, and of course the distance doubled 
 as we advanced. Still we were determined to push on, though it 
 was not till sunset that we reached the little “ chalet,” which, 
 after all, contained only a few of the very roughest specimens 
 of idols. 
 
 From the temple, however, we had a very fine view of Simla, 
 but had scarcely time even to glance at it, for that strange, 
 brooding stillness that comes before a storm warned us that 
 mischief was brewung; and sure enough, as the sun sank, a wild 
 thunderstorm rapidly blew up from the west, and lurid red quickly 
 turned to total blackness. We commenced hurriedly to retrace 
 our steps—no easy matter; for in the excitement of clambering 
 up, we had scarcely noticed how very rude a path we trod among 
 scattered rocks, with small broken stones, and the most slippery of 
 dry grass. It was very nasty walking, and we knew that a false 
 step would land us a good deal farther down the khad than we had 
 any wish to go. 
 
 Meanwhile the storm had burst around us in full violence. 
 Sharp tongues of fire seemed to cleave the heavens ; and then 
 again the pale lightning quivered as though encircling all earth 
 and heaven in broad sheets of flame ; while, from the blackness 
 around, the great cactus arms were outstretched like grey spirits, 
 such as Gustave Dore w'ould love to draw. So vivid and incessant 
 
296 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 were the hashes of fire that we literally scrambled down the hill 
 by the light of those celestial lamps, and not daring to take one . 
 step at random, we waited for each flash to show us where next to 
 set our feet. 
 
 Meanwhile the deep echoes of the storm reverberated among 
 the rocky gorges of the surrounding hills, while the thunder 
 crashed overhead in awful tumult. Presently great drops of rain 
 began to fall, and in a very few minutes there came sucli a down¬ 
 pour as was positively bewildering, and made us indulge in many 
 futile resolutions against being caught in future in Himalayan 
 thunderstorms. It was not our last, however, by a good many. 
 We did get down in course of time, and having indulged in a 
 precautionary pinch of quinine, for fear of possible fever, had 
 the satisfaction of finding ourselves none the worse for our 
 ducking. 
 
 I was much amused at this place by receiving a message from 
 the big man of the neighbouring village, that if only I would 
 show him pictures of the plains he would supply us with vegetables 
 as long as we remained at Ivyrie Ghat. Evidently the subject 
 had been discussed in the bazaar. Of course I signified my 
 willingness to show him my portfolio ; so presently he arrived. 
 He was an unpleasant-looking man, whom I had frequently 
 noticed, as one who would be dangerous in times of mutiny. 
 However, he proved a gentle savage, and the servants gave him 
 an elaborate description of each drawing as I turned it over, 
 so I have no doubt his mind was greatly enlarged. The supplies 
 of flowers and vegetables duly arrived, and their somewhat 
 withered condition proved how far the poor fellow must have sent 
 for them. 
 
 A few days later we accomplished the last stage of our journey 
 to Simla. As the road gradually ascended we left the great, 
 many-armed cactuses, and the wild barberries, the heavy scent of 
 which was most oppressive. Then we came into a belt of lovely 
 wild flowers. For about two miles we passed through tangles of 
 the most exquisite large white clematis, each blossom being about 
 three inches in diameter. Of course we gathered long, graceful 
 
SCARLET RHODODENDRON TREES. 297 
 
 trails of this, till our hideous jampans were transformed into fairy 
 bowers, and we confessed that no flower had ever been more 
 appropriately named, than this “Traveller’s Joy.” 
 
 Then, when we had passed this clematis line, we found our¬ 
 selves entering the region of scarlet rhododendron trees. Real, 
 bona-fide trees, all flaming with gorgeous blossom, more beautiful 
 than any words can tell when seen in the immediate foreground, 
 cutting against deep-blue ranges of distant hills, with glittering 
 snows beyond, and the bluest of skies overhead. But as a 
 general feature in the landscape, they have actually less value, as 
 a bit of colour, than the good Scotch rowan-tree, by reason of the 
 richness of their glossy green leaves, which actually neutralise the 
 scarlet blossoms. How many of these we added to our starry 
 garlands of the great white clematis I need hardly say. Even our 
 flower-loving coolies laughed at our delight over our new treasures, 
 and as to the exceedingly grave and well-dressed inhabitants of 
 Simla, who were just setting out to perform their daily round of 
 duty on the Mall, I have no doubt they mistook our procession 
 for some Arkite festival of the Paharis, i.e. the hill-men—a con¬ 
 clusion which would certainly have prevented the majority from 
 ever giving us a second thought. 
 
 And so at length we were all safely landed in Simla. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SIMLA. 
 
 View of the Snowy Range—Life at Simla—Annandale—How to Soothe 
 Babies—'Wood-carvers—Thunderstorms—Luminous Plants and Insects— 
 Monkeys — Rhododendrons — Itinerant Tradesmen — Cuckoos — Wild 
 Thyme—May-Day—Difficulties of Water-supply. 
 
 Now that we had reached this much-desired spot I fear we were 
 rather disappointed. Certainly it has much the same kind of 
 beauty as many of our Scotch “hill stations.” In fact, as I have 
 already said of Kalka, it for ever suggested Dunkeld, greatly 
 magnified, only minus the Tay, for there is not a drop of water 
 visible anywhere. 
 
 But I believe we had expected to find ourselves close to the 
 snows, and to see wonderful pinnacles running up into heaven; 
 whereas what we did see, was a group of somewhat uninteresting 
 hills all clad alike with small deodars which, when young, are 
 precisely like spruce fir, in general effect, and, farther, ranges of 
 interminable hills, where red earth supplies the place of heather, 
 and myriads of tiny fields suggest toilsome cultivation. 
 
 Then, on the far horizon, distant fully a hundred miles, and not 
 higher, apparently, than the level on which you yourself stand, lies 
 a long, narrow white line, stretching right across the landscape, 
 and indented like the teeth of a saw. And this is the snowy range ! 
 After a while we learned to know and love each line of that picture, 
 and to recognise the infinite variety of shapely peaks; but now I 
 am giving you our first impressions. There is no denying the fact 
 
HIGHEST PEAKS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 299 
 
 that the first coup d’wil was disappointing, partly, I suppose, because 
 everything is on so vast a scale, yet all is so perfectly in pro¬ 
 portion that it needs a perpetual intellectual effort to realise its size. 
 You have to say to yourself again and again, like a child trying 
 to understand its lesson, here is a mountain range fifteen hundred 
 miles long, and so broad that you must travel for weeks before 
 you get to the other side. And those peaks of glittering snow, 
 which seem only like crested waves on the sea-line, are for the 
 most part seven times as high as those great Skye hills which a 
 few months ago seemed to us to tower up to heaven. In fact, one 
 peak, Mount Everest, is very nearly ten times as high as the 
 Cuchullins, and fully 5,000 feet higher than the crowning peak of 
 the Andes. 1 I believe its height has now been fixed at 29,002 feet, 
 while that of Kinchinjunga is 28,176, and Dwalagiri, the white 
 mountain, is not far behind. But then you have to remember that 
 instead of standing on the sea-level, you have unconsciously risen 
 to a height of 7,400 feet, which is the height of the Mall at Simla, 
 an ascent so very gradual that, as you wind upward from one valley 
 to the next, you never see any very great depth or height either 
 below or above you. 
 
 I believe that Simla owes its fame as a hill station to Lord 
 William Bentinck, who selected it as his summer quarters. 
 Then Lord Combermere made the Mall, that is, the broad riding 
 road right round the hill of Jakko, and now, as we all know, 
 it is the regular summer quarters of Government, and of as 
 many white faces as can follow in the train of so Luminous 
 a comet. 
 
 1 It is, however, thought probable that in that vast mountain range, of which 
 we really know next to nothing, there is probably a still higher range beyond 
 Mount Everest, and that this is the true water-shed. When Mr. Graham and 
 his companions recently succeeded in reaching a point on Mount Kabru 24,015 
 feet above the sea (i.e. 1,700 feet higher than any other Alpine climber has yet 
 attained), he beheld over the slope of Mount Everest a further range, beyond 
 which towered two high peaks, which appeared to them considerably higher than 
 Mount Everest. They record that on their various ascents to great heights 
 they had no headache, no bleeding at the nose, no nausea. Only the violent 
 beating of their hearts was audible in the stillness at that great altitude. 
 
300 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The majority of the houses are so placed that they do not get 
 even a glimpse of the snows, though a few of their inhabitants 
 find a compensating fact in having a far-away peep of the plains 
 where their friends are still grilling; plains which stretch away 
 in the immeasurable distance, right down to Calcutta, like a 
 boundless blue ocean, and lose themselves in a hot mist on the 
 horizon. 
 
 Many of the houses, however, are placed too low to get any 
 distant view at all, being dotted about, all over the fir-clad hills, 
 and right down into the cup at their base. There are upwards of 
 300 of these bungalows, all bearing the strongest family likeness to 
 one another. They are a good deal like Swiss chalets, having 
 verandahs up stairs and down. Moreover, they are generally two 
 stories high ; a style of building which, as we had hardly seen a 
 staircase since leaving Calcutta, astonished the servants consider¬ 
 ably. Moreover, they have fire-places and blazing fires, which are 
 a great centre of attraction. 
 
 Each bungalow—I might say “villa”—stands by itself on a 
 morsel of artificially-levelled ground, only just large enough for 
 the actual house. The tiniest garden is a luxury almost unheard 
 of. It is the most difficult thing you can imagine ever to find 
 your way to any house in particular, as the hills, which are all 
 alike, are intersected by hundreds of paths—also all alike—and all 
 running through precisely the same fir wood. 
 
 The paths leading up to each bungalow are frightfully steep, 
 zigzags cut into the hill-side, and generally built up on the outer 
 edge. It would be no joke to have such a clamber for nothing, 
 so the name of each proprietor is generally painted on a 
 wooden board, and nailed up on some conspicuous tree at the 
 point where his steep and narrow approach diverges from the 
 public path. 
 
 You can fancy that a round of morning calls on such hills as 
 these is a very severe exertion. At first we rather despised the 
 white men and women, who, in this invigorating climate, which 
 is just like Scotland at its best, adhered to their habits of the 
 plains and would never walk a step. But we were soon driven 
 
HUMAN PONIES! 
 
 301 
 
 to confess that, if conventionalities and the drudgery of morning 
 calls were to be the order of the day, there was nothing for it 
 but to resign ourselves, like our neighbours, to being carried 
 about by a small regiment of strong highland lads, a detachment 
 of whom form as necessary an item of your establishment in 
 these hills as your ponies do in Scotland. They also act the part 
 of grass-cutters, and forage all over the hills for your horse’s 
 fodder. 
 
 These lads are known as jampanees or dandie-wallahs, according 
 to the variety of carriage you prefer. The dandie, as I before 
 said, is the lightest, being merely a carpet slung on a bamboo : and 
 we considered it the more comfortable vehicle. Most people, 
 however, preferred jampans or armchairs, which, with their shining 
 leather canopies and black curtains, are suggestive only of coffins ; 
 and when accompanied by eight (I have even seen twelve) bearers, 
 dressed in black and dark blue or green livery, are funereal to a 
 degree. 
 
 These men are under command of a superior, known at Simla 
 as the mate, and at Mussourie as the tyndal. He never lends a 
 hand to carry you himself, and merely walks alongside of the 
 others ; and, so far, is more ornamental than useful. Moreover, 
 he levies blackmail from each of his men, who, nevertheless, will 
 not enter your service unless you engage through him. So you 
 see there are trades’ unions even in the Himalayas. A good 
 mate is, however, really a very important servant. He not only 
 keeps his men in order, engaging or dismissing them at his 
 own good pleasure, but he also trims the lamps, carries notes, 
 those incessant chits, as they are called, and makes himself 
 generally useful in a thousand ways; sometimes even carrying a 
 child. 
 
 Children, by the way, have a special variety of doolie — namely, 
 a bed with wicker walls, in which they sleep at night, and which 
 in the day-time can be slung from a bamboo, and carried by 
 two men. The multitude of attendants required for these small 
 creatures verges on the ludicrous. I remember one baby in 
 particular, provided, of course, with two ayahs, a high-caste and 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 302 
 
 a low-caste, nurse and nurserymaid in fact, as also with a bearer. 
 These three individuals being insufficient to take the little inno¬ 
 cent for its airing on the Mall, had called out the whole retinue 
 of jampanees—eight in number—who gravely shouldered their 
 burden; and so these eleven human beings marched along with 
 their microscopic charge. Its mother, who happened to be on 
 foot, met the ludicrous procession, and was so struck by its ab¬ 
 surdity that she confessed afterwards to having disowned her own 
 baby. 
 
 The dress of the jampanees is a fertile subject for invention, as 
 every lady devises her own livery, and a very difficult matter it is 
 to produce sufficient variety. The men come to you as coolies 
 with a minimum of raiment, and must straightway be clothed in a 
 thick woollen blouse, trousers, and head gear. That of the mate 
 is of a pattern peculiar to itself. The great question is how to 
 vary the combinations of black, blue, green, yellow, scarlet, and 
 so forth. Commonplace mortals, who only look for use and wear, 
 generally adopt black, with scarlet or yellow facings ; but some 
 tasteful ladies invent all sorts of varieties. The Lady Sahib (that 
 is, the wife of the Governor-General) has an exclusive right to 
 pure scarlet. In fact, all the Government servants don this royal 
 colour; those who wait at table having the royal arms wrought 
 on their breasts in gold and colours—and a very fine race of 
 “ buffetiers ” they are—as gorgeous as the so-called beef-eaters 
 of old England. 
 
 You cannot imagine what a curious sight it is, at any place of 
 public resort, to see the enormous multitude of these human ponies 
 squatting in long rows, in charge of their respective coffins, and 
 waiting for their masters. It always amused us to come quickly 
 out of church to see this motley army rushing to the door, and 
 trying to get the foremost place in this desperate charge : pounce 
 on their master or mistress, and rush away again. Suppose that 
 of the 1,200 Europeans said to be in Simla, 300 were present (not 
 that I ever saw so many), and that of these, 100 were riders, 
 there would remain about 200 vehicles of all sorts, averaging six 
 bearers each. Thus you would have about 1,200 natives scram- 
 
A SOOTHING WATER-NURSE. 
 
 303 
 
 bling for the congregation as it “ scaled,” even without including 
 the 100 grooms {syces), who run off after their masters, holding on 
 by the horse’s tail. The confusion, hubbub, and hustling which 
 ensue are beyond description. Even the inhabitants of the nearest 
 houses seem to think it would be quite infra dig. to walk half or a 
 quarter of a mile to church, and evidently thought it extraordinary 
 of us to prefer doing so. 
 
 The worst of this multitude of bearers is not only the amount 
 of dust which they raise, and the annoyance of their very pre¬ 
 sence, but also that, suppose three girls meet on the Mall, or in 
 the narrow streets of the actual town, and want a few minutes’ 
 chat, their attendants make a mob of about twenty men, literally 
 blocking up the road. It is curious how very rarely any one 
 seems to dream of varying the route from the daily routine 
 row. It seems as if every man, woman, and child has but one 
 attraction—always the same thing—up and down the Mall. 
 Should you diverge into any of the by-paths, you may be 
 pretty certain not to meet a soul, unless, indeed, some picnic to 
 the waterfalls or to Annandale has drawn them from their usual 
 round. 
 
 The former are the most miserable apologies for waterfalls that 
 were ever seen ; but the rarity of the article lends them value. 
 The coolies look on this expedition with extreme aversion, as well 
 they may, for the little streamlet flows in the depths of a ravine 
 down which you scramble by a path of interminable length and 
 steepness. But the favourite gathering point is at Annandale, 
 likewise a deep valley ; but one which, instead of being merely a 
 narrow gorge like most of its neighbours, allows considerable 
 space for locomotion. Here, too, is a marvellous rarity, a very 
 good garden, where, if you happen to be on the alert, you may 
 buy a tolerable supply of fruit. 
 
 Here you may notice one curious custom of the Pahari women. 
 Soothing syrup and such infantile narcotics have not yet been 
 introduced in their nurseries, but the mother, who has a good 
 day’s work before her, carries her little one to the edge of the 
 rippling streamlet, and there lays it down on the green bank ; then, 
 
304 
 
 IN TI-IE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 making a hollow reed or bit of bark act as a conduit, she diverts 
 a tiny rill, which drips from a height of six or eight inches on the 
 head of the chota Baba, and soothes it into the calmest sleep. 
 Thus you may see a row of these little sleeping innocents near 
 the “Falls” at Annandale. One might fancy that the babies 
 rocked by so strange a water-nurse would surely grow up idiotic, 
 but all the people declare that it is very good for the little ones, 
 and makes them hardy. 
 
 Here, in a corner of the old forest, stands one of those little 
 rough stone temples, roofed with cedar-wood, and having a certain 
 amount of rough carving; such temples as the hill-men love to 
 build to some forest-god, wherever they find a group of trees of 
 somewhat larger growth than those around : a graceful creed, 
 which reverences these silent forest sanctuaries, as places conse¬ 
 crated by nature herself to the mighty unknown Spirit, and so 
 seems constrained to build some tabernacle in His honour. 
 
 “ A temple, ’neath the pine and chestnut shade, 
 
 A green, and dim, and ancient solitude, where hidden streams 
 Went moaning through the grass in sounds like dreams, 
 
 Music for weary hearts ! ” * 
 
 The most attractive native manufacture at Simla is wood¬ 
 carving ; good work and very effective. There is no end to the 
 variety of tables, chairs, and frames in which you are for ever 
 tempted to invest. But the homeward carriage of such goods is 
 an objection which prevents your storing many things that would 
 be treasures in England. In fact, every change of residence in 
 India involves a complete selling off of your household goods at 
 a most frightful loss; while the new kit is never to be purchased 
 under its full value. Some one must profit on the arrangement, 
 but I fancy Europeans rarely do so. Really the exorbitant prices 
 charged for all manner of goods in Simla, and the merely 
 nominal sums which they fetch when sold off a few months later, 
 would suggest the possibility of furnishing a house for nothing, 
 should you choose to arrive there when Government leaves in 
 October, and spend a regular British winter among the beautiful 
 
SIMLA. 305 
 
 snows and fir-trees, a time which various residents described as 
 most delightful. 
 
 Speaking of fir-trees, by which I mean the deodar cedar, it is 
 very curious to notice to how small a growth it attains on these 
 low spurs of the Himalayas. Go a hundred miles into the in¬ 
 terior, and explore those glorious forests which no woodman’s 
 axe has yet profaned, and you will wander on and on beneath 
 mighty monarchs, the very sight of which fills you with awe and 
 reverence. Trees of from twenty-five to thirty feet in girth, and 
 perhaps two hundred feet in height, and growing in flat layers 
 precisely like the Cedar of Lebanon. It is difficult to realise that 
 these are merely the elder brethren of the little graceful deodar, 
 as we know it in Britain. At Simla it never exceeds the size of 
 an average spruce fir. On our return from the interior we 
 noticed this fact to some of our friends, who replied, “ Oh, but 
 you have not seen the big trees at Annandale.” Thither we 
 accordingly went, and looked in vain for the big trees. We 
 found that the timber alluded to was a group about the size of 
 well-grown silver firs. But as most English men, and almost all 
 ladies, who once reach Simla, seem quite content never to go any 
 farther, the glories of the primeval forests must to them remain 
 sealed books. 
 
 It seems as if the mere fact of a refuge from the heat of the 
 plains was all that could be desired from these beautiful hills; 
 in fact, social life here bears much the same relation to that of 
 Calcutta, that Brighton does to London ; it is an atmosphere too 
 silky and perfumed to be in keeping with wild mountain scenery. 
 Fancy coming to these uttermost ends of the earth to be pursued 
 by latest Parisian fashions; satins, velvets, “ the newest thing” 
 in bonnets, which have just been sent direct to the wearer by 
 pattern post—to say nothing of the last thing in white satin 
 boots ! 
 
 Not that I wish to deny the charms of Simla society ; nothing 
 could possibly be pleasanter than many of its social gatherings, 
 its amateur concerts, its admirable private theatricals, its hurra 
 nautches, as the natives call our balls, where to their amazement 
 
 x 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 306 
 
 they see ladies and gentlemen dancing for themselves , instead of 
 hiring dancing girls to do it for them. All these things in fine 
 weather are very charming, and have the additional advantage of 
 very early hours. 
 
 But when violent thunderstorms come on, as they are very 
 apt to do at night, it is not altogether pleasant to be carried 
 along in evening toilette in a downpour of rain, with the leathern 
 curtains of your jampan flapping about, and utterly refusing to 
 button; while the flashing lightning reminds you of a dozen 
 fearful accidents that have occurred hereabouts. There was 
 one house very near ours which actually would not let, by 
 reason of the attraction which it seemed to have for heaven’s 
 fire; the last instance of which was, that as a mother stood on 
 its verandah, with her baby in her arms, watching the storm, a 
 sudden flash struck her dead, leaving the little one untouched. 
 
 One evening I especially remember, when there was to be a 
 great ball at Government House; but so appalling a storm came 
 on that even the enterprise of Simla ladies was defeated, so 
 that a mere handful of the nearest neighbours were all who 
 managed to be present. Some who actually started, were fairly 
 blown home again, having had their curtains torn away; while 
 one lady beheld the whole canopy of her jampan whirled into 
 mid-air and tossed over the khad, while she herself was left in her 
 ball-dress, exposed to the pitiless rain. 
 
 This I call society under difficulties ; nor is it pleasant, when 
 you have reached your destination, to know that your unlucky 
 bearers are sitting shivering outside, coughing their very hearts 
 away. Even if the mate has the wisdom to curl himself up in 
 your rugs, and keep himself dry in your jampan after the manner 
 of the London “ cabby ” (woe betide him if he is caught there !), 
 there is no such refuge for his underlings; nothing for them but 
 to grin and bear it. 
 
 But in fine weather these evening expeditions in our uncovered 
 dandies were quite delightful. The air is so cool and pleasant, 
 the vivid glow of sunset, and the fleeting twilight as you go forth, 
 and the brilliant starlight in which you return, are all so beautiful 
 
FIRE-BEETLES AND LUMINOUS GRASS. 
 
 307 
 
 that we could not wish the distances shorter, though in some 
 cases they were a matter of four or five miles, as we followed the 
 windings of the paths. The mate generally led the way, bearing 
 a lantern to guide his men, and the light flashed sometimes on 
 masses of dark Indian oak, wreathed with Virginia creeper, or on 
 the glossy rhododendrons, whose scarlet blossoms faded all too 
 quickly. Then through the depths of the dark fir wood floated 
 little dancing, gleaming lights, which at first we believed to be 
 fire-flies, but a closer examination proved them to be beetles, with 
 transparent tails, within which, just as in a real lamp, glows the 
 palest green light. 
 
 More wonderful than these fairy fire-bearers, because so much 
 less widely known, are some of the luminous grasses and other 
 plants found in parts of the Himalayas. Some years ago a 
 report reached Simla that the grassy hills round Syree, on 
 the old road, were every night illuminated with a strange, pallid 
 fire, which gleamed with a tremulous spirit-light. On inquiry, 
 this was found to emanate from a grass, called by the Brahmans 
 jyotismati , 1 and common at Almorah and various other places 
 in the hills. It was only observed during the rains; nor was it 
 the property of every root, only perhaps of one in a hundred. 
 Nevertheless it was sufficiently powerful to make the whole 
 grass seem to glow here and there with a blaze of phosphoric 
 light. Another plant 2 is also found in these mountains, which 
 is reverenced by the fire-worshipping people, as “ a bush burning 
 yet not consumed.” Its light has been proved to proceed from 
 a volatile oil, which at times evaporates to such an extent that on 
 bringing a lighted match close to it the plant will be enveloped 
 in a transient flame, and yet will be in nowise injured. 
 
 There are various other instances known of these luminous 
 plants. I have been told of a beautiful phosphorescent fungus 
 which grows abundantly on the dwarf palms of Brazil, as also in 
 Australia, and which emits a pale-green light, so vivid that a 
 few specimens brought into a dark room will give sufficient 
 light to read by. Australia also produces a luminous moss, 
 
 1 Anihist’ria anant/iera. 8 Dictamnus Fraxinella. 
 
 X 2 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 30S 
 
 which gleams like a nest of glow-worms from the dark recesses 
 of the rocks. I was also told that some of the timber, floated 
 down from Thibet by the Cashmere rivers, has the same pro¬ 
 perty, which, however, it loses when dry. The root of certain 
 orchids likewise shines while moist, and though quite lustreless 
 when dry, renews its light as often as it is thoroughly saturated. 
 These are a few of the lamps dear to the fairies, which mortal 
 eyes are sometimes privileged to behold. 
 
 The church of Simla is the central point at which all di¬ 
 verging lines seem to meet. Here for once mosques and temples 
 have retired into the background. Christianity holds a promi¬ 
 nent place, being represented by a rather large, ugly church, 
 overlooking the native town and the bazaars. These are perched 
 on terraces down the face of the hill. The backs of these native 
 houses are decidedly picturesque, being several storys high, 
 and having verandahs and balconies of coloured wood, and a 
 certain amount of window gardening, with tall Indian corn and 
 similar grain. This is a place where no Europeans ever dream 
 of going, but my sketching propensities drew me thither, and the 
 flat roof of a cottage made a capital studio. The novelty of the 
 proceeding proved too much for the curiosity of the inmates of 
 the upper windows, who, after peeping cautiously forth for some 
 time, and making quite sure that there were no dangerous white 
 men in the neighbourhood, crept down to my side. Such courage 
 proved infectious, and I had on that occasion more glimpses of 
 bright eyes and rich jewels than have often fallen to my lot . 1 
 
 The hill on which the church stands rejoices in the name of 
 Jakko. One might imagine it has been so named in honour of 
 the monkeys; for certainly they are legion, both the common 
 
 1 I have been told that the only way in which a foreigner can ever obtain a 
 glimpse of Hindoo domestic life is by frequenting the native theatres. These, 
 strange to say, do not seem to possess the same interest for foreigners that they 
 do in China and Japan, and none of onr friends ever suggested that “ we should 
 goto a play ” in India. And yet, that theatrical entertainments hold high favour 
 with the people is evident, as the official lists of native publications show 
 a large annual return of dramas printed in the vernacular. Some years give 
 birth to upwards of a hundred such compositions. 
 
MONKEY NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 309 
 
 brown ones, which come careering all over the houses, and the 
 great big grey ones, with black face and paws, and fringe of white 
 hair round the forehead. I am told they are sometimes five feet 
 high, but I should imagine four feet was nearer the average. 
 
 They also come close to the houses in troops, and scamper 
 about all over the tall trees, swinging themselves from branch to 
 branch, leaping from tree to tree, and playing all manner of 
 antics; sometimes springing suddenly across the road, to the 
 great alarm of the horses, and no small danger of the riders, 
 considering the nature of the roads. It was too ridiculous 
 sometimes to see the exceeding gravity with which they would 
 sit among the great scarlet blossoms of the rhododendrons, 
 and stare at us. Sometimes an old grandmother would come 
 with a wee baby in her arms, and play all sorts of games with it, 
 giving it a swing on her tail, and playing hide-and-seek among 
 the glossy green leaves, in contrast with which these monkeys 
 look almost pure white. 
 
 One day a great, big, brown fellow came so close to the house, 
 and behaved so boldly, that the servants surrounded and cap¬ 
 tured him ; a proceeding to which he showed so little objection 
 that we suspected him of having escaped from some previous 
 master. We detained him for some days, in case his owner 
 should claim him, but as no one came forward, he was eventually 
 presented to the artillery at Jittog, where he quickly signalised 
 himself by treacherously pulling out handfuls of hair from the 
 head of an unwary gunner. 
 
 From the extreme steepness of the densely-wooded banks, it 
 follows that in many of the bungalows the tree tops are literally 
 on a level with the balconies, and their branches actually sweep 
 the windows, thus affording famous cover for the monkeys, should 
 it please them to enter and help themselves to any tempting food, 
 or other object. They did not favour us with any such visits, 
 but some of our neighbours were less fortunate. 
 
 None, however, suffered so seriously as Lady Barker, who has 
 so charmingly described the fate of her first dinner-party at 
 Simla. Being anxious to have an unusually pretty table, she 
 
3 io 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 had herself expended much care and trouble in its adornment 
 a la Russe : and having just received from Europe certain dainty 
 china figures and ornamental dishes, she had arranged such a 
 show of sweetmeats, flowers, and fruit as should have filled 
 all beholders with admiration. When dressing-time came, she 
 charged her servants on no account to leave the room till her 
 return; but hardly was her back turned, when the temptation of 
 hubble-bubble prevailed, and they slipped out for a quiet smoke, 
 quite forgetting the open window and the great tree just outside, 
 where sat certain watchful monkeys vastly interested in the 
 proceedings. Judge of the feelings of the hostess when, coming 
 down to receive her guests, she just looked into the dining-room 
 to make sure that her work was perfect, and there found a busy 
 company of monkeys hard at work, grinning and jabbering, 
 their cheeks and arms crammed with expensive sweetmeats, 
 while the table presented a scene of frightful devastation— 
 broken glass and china, fair linen soiled—everything tossed 
 about in hopeless confusion ! From this wreck she had to turn 
 aside, and try to look pleasant and quite at ease while enter¬ 
 taining the hungry guests, who had to wait patiently till something 
 like order could be restored, and a dinner served, shorn of all 
 frivolous adornments. 
 
 Nor was this her only quarrel with her troublesome neighbours. 
 She tells us how her favourite little terrier had conceived a violent 
 antipathy to the whole race, and never lost a chance of barking at 
 them, and frightening them off the premises. The monkeys 
 waited their time, and at last had their revenge. One day, as 
 little Fury was accompanying his mistress through a dark thicket 
 of rhododendrons, she saw a skinny arm suddenly dart out from 
 amid the scarlet blossoms, and quick as thought the poor little 
 terrier was seized by his long, silky hair, and in a second had 
 disappeared in the thicket. Vain were all attempts at rescue; 
 vainly and piteously the poor doggie yelped and howled, while a 
 shaking of the branches, and a sound of scuffling, were all that 
 betrayed his unwilling ascent to the top of a high tree, where a 
 monkey jury had assembled to try the criminal. Once there, his 
 
POOR fury’s fate. 
 
 3“ 
 
 unhappy mistress beheld her little favourite passed from one to 
 another, that each in turn might have the satisfaction of pinching 
 and tweaking, and pulling out his hair, till his particular grudge 
 was revenged. Then, when all were tired of this amusement, 
 they took him to the extreme end of a branch, and dropped him 
 far down the precipitous khad. And so ended poor Fury’s feud 
 with the monkeys ! 
 
 We were sufficiently unsociable to consider ourselves very 
 fortunate in the situation of our house, “ Raby Lodge,” which 
 stands on Jakko, just above the Mall, and about one mile on the 
 unfashionable side of the church—a sort of “ back of beyond,” 
 where we could reach “ the world ” on the shortest notice, but 
 were virtually beyond its pale, and, to all intents and purposes, 
 sole monarchs of the beautifully-wooded hill that rose some 
 five hundred feet above the house, with lovely paths in every 
 direction, where we might wander all day in the cool delicious 
 shade, and never meet a living soul. Partly because, as I before 
 said, every one is wedded to the Mall, and partly because the custom 
 of the plains is kept up—except to make full-dress morning calls 
 between twelve and two—no one goes out for pleasure till dusk. 
 
 This to a new comer is incomprehensible, the climate being 
 in every way suggestive only of the most heavenly summer 
 weather at home. There is, however, no doubt that experience 
 has taught her own lessons, and that there is too good reason 
 to beware of lurking treachery even with these sweet breezes. 
 
 For the delicious freshness of the atmosphere at these high levels 
 is no warrant for forgetting that you are still beneath a tropical 
 sun, and by no means beyond the danger of its vertical rays. 
 Apt as we are to think precaution no longer necessary in these 
 cool hills, the fact remains the same, and the risk of sunstroke 
 is not less here than in the plains. Even when the sky is veiled 
 by soft grey clouds, the natives warn you that the danger is just 
 as great, in fact they say greater; and they have some curious 
 proverbs which compare the sun unveiled to a mosquito, and the 
 clouded sun to a scorpion. 
 
 One remarkable health statistic is the number of cases of liver 
 
312 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 complaint developed in people of average sickly Indian health 
 on fast arriving in the hills, where every breath of keen ex¬ 
 hilarating air would seem to be laden with new life. That 
 blessed air is itself the cause of the mischief, for the languid 
 frame feels suddenly invigorated, and a delightful, almost forgotten 
 sensation of hunger entices the new comer to eat so voraciously 
 that the enfeebled internal machinery is unable to cope with such 
 unwonted labour, and too often gives way just when its luckless 
 owner imagines he has found an atmospheric elixir. 
 
 The house next to our pleasant home is known as the Priory, 
 and is that wherein Dr. Russell, of The Times, wiled away the 
 weary hours of convalescence with all his pets—his menagerie, I 
 might say—his young hill bears, monkeys, mountain rams, costurah 
 (or hill thrush), green parrots, chickore (hill partridge), ninety-six 
 aberdavats, &c., &c., besides sundry hill rninas or Llackbirds, 
 which are the favourite cage-birds in these parts, though not 
 always agreeable companions, inasmuch as they can at their own 
 sweet will vary their notes from a sound like the most musical bells 
 to the very harshest croak. 
 
 This hill of Jakko, on which we were now perched, is, I think, 
 a perfect Paradise for a home. It is clothed from base to summit 
 with the richest mixed timber, chiefly the Indian oak, with 
 a holly-like leaf, and the dark glossy green of the rhododendron 
 trees, with their gorgeous masses of blossom, the most vivid 
 scarlet, shaded with deep crimson. The only thing to be re¬ 
 gretted is that their glory is so short-lived. Early in May they 
 are on the wane, and by the end of the month a few withered 
 blossoms are all that remain to tell of their bright, short lives. 
 
 But when first they begin to flutter down in the breeze, they 
 fall like a shower of fire, and alight on the richest carpet of 
 maiden-hair fern, and blue dog-violets, which everywhere clothe 
 these hanging woods, so that you can scarcely set your foot on the 
 earth without crushing a tuft of such treasures as would enchant 
 the heart of an English gardener. 
 
 And now just imagine the loveliness of such glimpses of the 
 snows as you from time to time catch when you look down some 
 
THE SNOWY RANGE, FROM RABY LODGE, SIMLA. 
 
VIEW FROM OUR VERANDAH. 
 
 313 
 
 deep ravine, clothed on either side with these dark trees and 
 flaming blossoms ; down, down, down, over wave after wave of 
 billowy foliage, till all form is lost in the depths of blue haze far 
 below. Then as your eye once more rises from the gloom, it rests 
 on a group of dazzling snow-peaks, no longer dwarfed by their 
 own multitude, inasmuch as what you now see is a mere fragment 
 of that unbroken line which stretches right across the horizon, 
 and which seems to lose itself in the wonderful blue of the 
 heavens. 
 
 Anything more dazzling than that marvellous scarlet, blue, and 
 white, with the intensely dark foliage to give tone to the whole, 
 you cannot imagine. And sometimes Dame Nature seems to 
 crave more and more colour, and needs but the faintest pretext of 
 mist or shower to bridge the deep valley with vivid rainbow lights 
 (constantly a double arch), which seem like a softened dreamy 
 reflection of that more lasting prism which she has set here for 
 our enchantment, and which will remain unchanged for weeks 
 together. 
 
 This was the vision of loveliness that met us at every turn from 
 that beautiful hill side 3 and from our own verandah we looked 
 down over the rich masses of foliage into what seemed un¬ 
 measurable depth, and past the endless ranges of hills to the 
 * long, unbroken line of eternal snow. If we had had our pick of 
 all Simla we could not have selected a more perfect spot than 
 that on which the house was placed; nor a more delicious sitting 
 room than the bread upper balcony, which extending round three 
 sides qf the house, commanded the view from every corner, 
 including such glimpses of the Mall just below, as gave human 
 interest to the whole. A lounge so delightful, tempted us to 
 linger there for many a pleasant hour rather than explore more 
 distant scenes, good opera-glasses making us familiar with many a 
 ravine and peak which our feet might never tread. 
 
 Long before daybreak I was generally at my post, for then each 
 pinnacle of the distant hills stood out in clear, pale blue against 
 the welling light that foreruns the day. But when the first kiss 
 of the rising sun had transformed that steely blue into a sea of 
 
3H 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 glittering ice-peaks, then soft grey clouds rose up to meet the 
 dawn, and all the distance was veiled for a while. 
 
 With daybreak came the invariable tap at the nursery window, 
 and there stood the old gwala (cow-man) with a great bowl of 
 sweet new milk for the little ones ; and then came chota haziri, the 
 little breakfast on the balcony, and afterwards a delightful scramble, 
 knee-deep in maiden-hair fern, beneath the scarlet rhododendrons, 
 where the white monkeys were playing their antics, and sometimes 
 pelted us with blossoms. 
 
 Of course in the evening light the colouring was all reversed. 
 As the sun sank, it made the great hills fling their broad cool 
 shadows athwart the deep valley, and the pure white snows were 
 flushed with delicate rose light and tender lilac shadows, while the 
 sky beyond was tinted with faint sea-green. Ten minutes later, it 
 was the sky that was flushed rosy red, and the snow-peaks had 
 changed to a ghastly grey. 
 
 This was the colouring that we saw again and again without 
 any very remarkable effect of sky; nothing, at least, that differed 
 much from the loveliness of our own mornings and evenings 
 in Scotland, and I am more and more convinced that the people 
 who speak so enthusiastically of Eastern atmospheric effects, are 
 those who habitually oversleep themselves when in Britain, and 
 prefer their book or their dinner to watching a sunset! Even in 
 “ the rains,” in the month of September, we only saw about four 
 sunsets which, I could honestly say, exceeded many of those on 
 our northern shores. 
 
 One indeed there was, the glory of which did surpass my 
 wildest dreams of possibility. The rain had been pouring all day; 
 pouring as it only can pour in the tropics and in Skye. In the 
 evening, however, it cleared, and we were sitting in our beloved 
 balcony watching the black tree-tops appearing like spirits from 
 among the clouds of white mist which floated in the valley far 
 below. As the sun set, it seemed as though the mist had sud¬ 
 denly taken fire; it rolled towards us rapidly like a sea of flame. 
 Every white vapour seemed changed to a thousand tongues of 
 liquid fire. You could hardly think it possible that it was not in 
 
A WONDROUS SUNSET. 
 
 315 
 
 truth the dread consumer. We watched its progress breathlessly. 
 Literally we could not stir; for it seemed as though indeed 
 the “ Brath ” of the old Highlanders had come, and that the earth 
 was now in truth to be purified by fire from Heaven. Still it 
 rolled on and on. The whole valley was full of fire, for ever 
 floating and curling upward, and writhing with unquiet motion. 
 The wooded banks on every side of us, and the great, dark 
 trees, glowed like a sheet of molten iron. You felt convinced 
 that had you touched them they must have burnt your hand. 
 Even the brown faces of the awestruck natives shone ruddy-red. 
 Where the fire could not reach the mists because of the broad 
 shadow of the hills, they seemed all illuminated with weird blue 
 lights, and these were reflected on the deep grassy khads that lay 
 in the same shadow, so that they shone like intensely emerald 
 velvet. And in the far, far distance, the same spectral light 
 gleamed on the eternal snows. A few moments later the fiery 
 glory faded away, and was succeeded by a wan and pallid light 
 which shed an ashen hue on the cold grey hills, and a death-like 
 repose overspread the land. 
 
 Can you wonder that we loved to linger in a balcony from 
 which such sights were possible ? 
 
 Sometimes colour came to us in a more tangible form, for our 
 friends the Delhi shawl-merchants, followed the stream of trade, 
 and brought vast stores of their beautiful goods to tempt the 
 English at Simla. So, often we would look up suddenly, conscious 
 of some human presence, which had approached unheard, for the 
 natives all leave their slippers outside the verandah, and their bare 
 feet glide silently up the stairs. There perhaps stood a figure in 
 spotless white, making his lowly salaam, and followed by two 
 or three coolies with huge bundles on their heads. In a few 
 moments the balcony from end to end was strewn with the most 
 exquisite raiment of needlework that human hands ever wrought, 
 all the work of hands masculine—just imagine their patience ! 
 There were piled the most gorgeous hangings, shawls, cloaks, 
 cushions, materials of dazzling hue, half hidden by the richness 
 of gold and silver, and silken embroidery of every colour, and 
 
3i6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in every pattern that art could devise; such hangings and such 
 drapery as might carry a dream of Oriental grace and harmony of 
 rich colours into the pale greys of our murky, western mists. 
 
 Sometimes our tempters were traders from Cashmere, whose 
 goods were all of softest wool materials, and quiet Quaker greys 
 and browns, embroidered with darker shades of the same. The 
 wool of which they are made is a silky hair peculiar to the 
 goats of Cashmere, each of which yields about three ounces at a 
 time. It requires ten fleeces to make one average shawl. We 
 were told that sixteen thousand looms were employed in Cashmere, 
 each giving employment to about four men, whose joint work 
 produces two shawls a year. I fancy that must refer to the 
 shawls of many colours, as these delicious browns and greys are 
 not suggestive of so much labour, even though they are all richly 
 embroidered. It is a strange example of the manner in which 
 nation acts upon nation, to hear that the first effect of the blockade 
 of Paris should have been to throw forty thousand of the 
 shawl-weavers in far Cashmere out of work. 
 
 With regard to Indian silks we were told that all the best 
 raw silk is brought from Bokhara; the finest quality of all being 
 described by the natives as “ Hathee Singal,” “ strong enough to 
 bind an elephant,” and consequently ultra-durable. It is chiefly 
 manufactured at Lahore, not in one great factory, but in private 
 houses, where all the men of a family work together in small, 
 confined rooms, labouring in dark, dingy, stuffy holes, to produce 
 these delicate tissues. No women are employed, as with the 
 hand-loom workers of Britain, but a vast multitude of men find 
 work as weavers, twisters, dyers, and winders. 
 
 The shawl and silk merchants were by no means the only 
 tradesmen who created a locomotive market for their wares. 
 Here, as in the plains, sellers of fruit, toys, biscuits, cloth, haber¬ 
 dashery, jewellery, skins of birds, screens of peacocks’ feathers, 
 and nondescript articles of every conceivable sort, were for ever 
 wandering over the hills in search of customers at the most 
 remote bungalows, perhaps walking miles before effecting the 
 smallest sale, and waiting with inconceivable patience till it 
 
WILD THYME AND WHITE CLOVER. 317 
 
 might suit the inmates to look over their wares, all of which must 
 be carefully packed and unpacked a dozen times a day. One 
 who was generally sure of a welcome carried a great basket of 
 jams of every sort, from strawberry and apricot, down to rhodo¬ 
 dendron and grass, these being supposed to have a strong local 
 flavour ! 
 
 I need scarcely say that only a select few of these itinerant 
 tradesmen presumed to invade the sanctity of the upper balcony 
 —which was in fact our family sitting-room—and one which 
 certainly found more favour than the comfortable English 
 drawing-room down stairs. The mere fact of being up stairs 
 again was such a novelty 1 
 
 In every niche of that verandah was a nest of the loveliest 
 young swallows. All the morning they were skimming about in 
 every direction, just as happily as our own dear little summer 
 guests in the old country, and many a pleasant vision they recalled. 
 Only when the young birds began to try their wings, and some¬ 
 times fluttered to the balcony, they became to us a source of 
 most painful anxiety, as our educational efforts all failed utterly 
 to teach our little jungle kitten that young swallows were not fair 
 game. Indeed, she watched the nests day and night with a 
 true hunter’s eye, which never quite closed, even when she pre¬ 
 tended to be asleep, and many a dainty morsel she contrived to 
 secure. 
 
 But of all reminders of home none gave me such a thrill of 
 pleasure as a fragrant breath which one day reached me in a far 
 corner of the hills; and soon I scented out a purple bank of 
 wild thyme, with patches of white clover. There was a ruined 
 bungalow near, and at first I thought some exile had sown these 
 seeds for love of the old home beyond the great waters. But 
 afterwards I found other patches of the same sweet flowers, and 
 many more besides. Indeed, the multitude of such reminders of 
 old days struck me even more than the novelties of India. 
 
 This was especially true of human beings, for, from the first day 
 we reached the Indian land, it seemed as if some old friend 
 cropped up at every turn, generally the very last person we should 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 318 
 
 have dreamt of meeting. Every one we had ever known and lost 
 sight of, seemed to have drifted to some part of India, in some 
 capacity, high or low, rich or poor. At Meerut, for instance, the 
 first amazed voice that greeted me on arriving was that of our own 
 station-master from the far north. Another was a soldier’s wife, 
 from our own home, and from my sister’s Sunday school. Then 
 came a dozen callers, of whom one half were north-country 
 friends, the other half proved to have been schoolfellows or 
 “ chums ” of our brothers and nephews. On entering the church 
 we recognised, both in pulpit and reading-desk, faces long ago 
 familiar to Inverness, and others seemed to multiply as we looked 
 round. And this is merely an average sample of Scotch links in 
 most colonies, and of the consequent cheery welcome which we 
 found wherever we halted. 
 
 Next t.o the wild thyme, the most startling suggestion of spring¬ 
 time and olden days was the first song of the cuckoo, whose 
 clear ringing note was answered by a perfect chorus of his 
 brethren ; no shy, timid warblers shunning “ the passing hoof,” 
 but bold birds, who sing out bravely in defiance of all comers, 
 though the high road just below the house might be crowded 
 with human beings, equestrians, and ladies “ eating the air,” as 
 the natives say, when they see them carried out “ for an airing.” 
 More often there are long strings of wild-looking Paharis—hill 
 men and women, alike staggering under tremendous burdens of 
 timber, great wooden planks, such as no Englishmen would 
 dream of carrying half a mile, but which these comparatively 
 small highlanders have probably carried ten miles at least, from 
 the dark pine forest of Mahasso, or even farther. 
 
 May-day came, all too quickly, and with it came the hill black¬ 
 birds and hill thrushes-—bluish birds about the size of our own. 
 Long before daybreak we were astir, to greet “ the morning gale 
 of spring,” and, in obedience to old habits, to wash our faces in 
 May dew. But for once Beltane had no morning dew to give us. 
 We sought in vain, but solaced ourselves by bringing home ferns 
 and wild flowers innumerable, and by filling every corner of the 
 house with gay scarlet blossoms. 
 
MAY-DAY AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 3>9 
 
 I think, perhaps, the most wonderful thing about this fair earth’s 
 loveliness is the way in which its balance is preserved, so that no 
 beauty of any one spot can in anywise detract from the en¬ 
 joyment of the next, each new scene in the panorama of travel 
 bringing its own fresh delight with it, filling with calm and glad¬ 
 ness the heart that allows itself stillness to drink in these sweet 
 influences. Enchanting as was this May-day among the moun¬ 
 tains, I think the following one lost little by comparison. It 
 found us revelling in Kentish cherry, and pear, and apple orchards, 
 the whole air fragrant with their gummy perfume, and the country 
 looking as though a shower of white and pink snow had fallen, 
 indeed was still falling, for every gentle breeze shook down soft 
 showers of blossom into the rich meadow-grass, to the intense 
 delight of multitudes of white frisking lambs, and of a few 
 toddling cottage bairns in large white sun-bonnets, who were 
 wearing daisy-chains, or pelting one another with fragrant cowslip 
 balls. 
 
 If we turned aside from the orchards it was only to linger by 
 the clear purling brook, with its fringe of forget-me-nots, and 
 its golden kingcups and marsh-marigolds, overshadowed by 
 silvery beech-trees still in the first flush of their delicate spring 
 green. In the wood beyond, sweet melick grass and young 
 ferns crept up through banks of creamy primroses, and deep 
 blue hyacinths and orchids. And from every bush and tree 
 came the voice of many birds; a chorus of song, always in time 
 and tune, and with a constant undertone of wood-doves cooing 
 to their mates from their hiding-places in the dreamy depths of 
 the dark yews—the most soothing sound in all sweet nature’s 
 harmonies. 
 
 No such soothing note fell on my ear on this May morning in 
 the Himalayas, although in truth it seemed as if the summer music 
 of the woods had all awakened. Not only were the cuckoos 
 calling with the energy born of a winter’s silence, till every 
 wooded hill echoed back that dear old song of home, but the 
 cicada, whose voice had been unheard since we had fled from it 
 at Point de Galle, began this morning that sharp metallic note 
 
320 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 which, rising simultaneously from under every leaf, and every 
 crevice of bark, produces a deafening chorus of whirring sound, 
 like the hum of countless spinning-wheels. 
 
 To some ears this sound is said to be musical; the Greeks 
 described it as “ the nightingale of the nymphs.” To me it 
 was a perpetual annoyance, jarring on the ear throughout the 
 day. Each morning for one precious hour I might revel in still¬ 
 ness while peering into that wonderful range of clear cold peaks 
 cutting so sharp against the sky. Then, as the arc of lemon- 
 coloured light rose higher and higher in the blue heaven, I knew 
 my hours of torment were drawing nigh, for the moment the sun 
 could overlook those snows, and gild the wooded mass on every 
 side of me, the whole army of noisy insects awoke with one 
 accord, and continued their ceaseless monotonous din without 
 one moment’s intermission, till he sank again below the horizon. 
 Then these true courtiers of the great day-star were suddenly 
 silenced, and the effect on the ear was very much like that of 
 suddenly stopping a roomful of sewing machines. 
 
 I was told that these creatures are a sort of grasshopper, but I 
 could never succeed in catching one. One species has been de¬ 
 scribed as something like a moth with the most delicate gauzy 
 wings, just tinged with green, and body striped green and yellow. 
 Their musical apparatus is said to consist of “two membranes 
 tightly stretched, and acted on by powerful muscles; the sound 
 issues from two holes near the articulations of the hind-legs.” 
 The minstrels when caught were by no means silenced, but 
 “ rattled away as merrily as ever,” even when prisoners in the 
 human hand. 
 
 The one great drawback to most of these hill stations is the 
 terrible deficiency of water. To us, who consider it a remnant of 
 barbarism to build any house without having water laid on, even 
 to the topmost story, it is bad enough to know that even on the 
 plains every drop required for all household purposes must be 
 brought from the well by water-carriers; this inconvenience, 
 however, is common to all India, I suppose to all the East. But 
 in these hills the distances which these poor fellows have to go in 
 
DIFFICULTIES OF THE WATER-SUPPLY. 
 
 3 21 
 
 search of their supplies is something startling, and the bheestie 
 has hard work indeed, especially in a country where bathing is a 
 luxury indulged in, perhaps several times a day. Ours was 
 considered fortunate in having, at first, to go only about half a 
 mile down the khad to fill his water-skin. But as the season drew 
 on, the water retired lower and lower, so that he and all the other 
 bheesties of the neighbourhood had to go far down a deep, rocky 
 ravine, and sometimes wait long enough for their turn at the well 
 It was no joke to have to climb that rugged footpath a dozen times 
 a day, especially with a burden so heavy as a water-skin. Some 
 bheesties living far above us on the hill kept a strong pony to help 
 them. But these little beasts have an awkward habit of tumbling 
 over the edge of the khad, and divers horrible accidents occurred 
 while we were there. In the plains you sometimes see bullocks 
 used for this same work. 
 
 Certainly the bheesties and dhobies (laundry-men) have no easy 
 work in these hills; and you can scarcely marvel at the change in 
 the habits of the people, from the wonderful religious cleanliness 
 of the dwellers in the plain, with their incessant ceremonial 
 washings both of themselves and of their clothes, to the exceeding 
 filth of the Pabaris or hill-men, who only wash once a year on one 
 of their holiest festivals-; and who wear the same thick woollen 
 blouse, plaid, and trousers till they have spun themselves a new 
 suit, that is, till the first is worn out. 
 
 A month at Simla brought us to the end of May, by which time 
 the glory of the scarlet rhododendrons was departed, and the 
 delight of being grinned at by white langours and brown monkeys 
 had lost its novelty. Moreover the longing for a nearer view of 
 those distant hills grew more and more intense. 
 
 It was therefore with infinite delight that I arranged to join our 
 friends, Captain and Mrs Graves of the Buffs, in order to see as 
 much of the great mountains as we could accomplish during their 
 three months’ leave. 
 
 Y 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CAMP LIFE. 
 
 Start for the Valley of the Sutlej—The Fair in Mahasso Forest—Dress and 
 Jewels of the Paharis—Wilderness of Wild Roses—Sweet Jessamine— 
 Hatto Forest—Divers Altitudes marked by Diversity of Vegetation—Bears 
 —Varieties of Pheasants—Narkunda—An Allegory. 
 
 The preparations for our delightful expedition were soon made. 
 Stores were laid in, sketching materials sorted, tents and baggage 
 overhauled, and having loyally celebrated the Queen’s birthday 
 by a grand evening reception at the Viceroy’s, we celebrated mine 
 on the following morning (26th May) by a start towards the Snowy 
 Range. 
 
 We had determined to follow the Thibet road as far as the 
 frontier. Our daily march would, we knew, vary from six to 
 twelve miles, according to the supply of water. A halt at any 
 intermediate point involves sundry difficulties; chiefly in the 
 supply of next day’s coolies, and of the servants’ food which they 
 calculate on buying daily in the little native bazaars. 
 
 We were each provided with the smallest of tents, about six 
 feet square, and often could scarcely have found sufficient level 
 ground to pitch even these, except at the regular camping spots, 
 where previous travellers had levelled a space for themselves. A 
 light native charpoy (i.e. a bedstead consisting of a network of 
 strong fibre on a frame six feet by three, and raised a foot from 
 the ground, a contrivance for safety, not for luxury), a bundle of 
 bedding (with waterproof cover), a strong carpet, a large flat tin 
 box for drawing materials, a second for raiment and nondescript 
 
START FOR THE INTERIOR. 
 
 3 2 3 
 
 treasures, and a large native brass basin, completed the furniture 
 of my fascinating little gipsy home. Our provisions were packed 
 as for a monster picnic, in long native baskets, called kilters ; 
 they are covered with leather so as to be tolerably waterproof. In 
 these were stores of all sorts—preserved meats, flour, tea, sugar, 
 chocolate, lanterns, candles, oil, everything, in short, that a wise 
 housekeeper judged necessary. 
 
 A train of about thirty coolies shouldered all these treasures. 
 They are for the most part lithe, lissome men, whose spare, lanky 
 frames can get over the ground apace. They shouldered me into 
 the bargain, in my dandie, which is simply a strip of stout canvas 
 scientifically adjusted and fastened to the two ends of a bamboo 
 forming a sort of bag in which the person carried sits sideways. 
 The bamboo rests on the shoulders of two or four coolies walking 
 in line; not side by side, consequently this is by far the safest 
 mode of being carried on these narrow precipitous paths. 
 
 Mrs. Graves, being a first-rate walker, steadfastly refused to be 
 carried, and actually walked every step of the way, occasionally 
 diverging down some frightful native path, or over some tremendous 
 hill-top, whence she returned a few hours later to make me envious 
 by descriptions of spots to me unattainable. 
 
 The method of locomotion must always be an important question 
 for every one starting on such an expedition. Personally I much 
 preferred human ponies to quadrupeds, as the latter are very apt to 
 take fright when on the worst bits of a narrow track on the verge 
 of a precipice. Then they refuse to stir, and neither coaxing 
 nor whipping avail—they back, and slip, and sometimes occasion 
 frightful accidents. Moreover, most horses naturally object to 
 letting a rider carry a large open white umbrella, which is an 
 essential safeguard against sunstroke. Many of the paths to be 
 traversed are just tracks of loose shale, and often pieces are 
 dislodged by the heavy step of a horse, and fall so as to startle 
 him. Some of the steepest hill-sides are cut into regular stairs, 
 with very deep steps, which make ascent or descent alike difficult 
 and dangerous. There is also the probability of an occasional 
 landslip, where bits of the road have entirely disappeared. 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 
 
 TN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Then too the horses are very apt to lose their shoes on these 
 terrible paths and there is no possibility of getting them re-shod 
 except at certain points, few and far between. Sometimes local 
 blacksmiths are sent for from distant villages, and on arrival prove 
 quite unable to perform the simple job. So the traveller must 
 then get on as best he can, his groom being fully occupied in 
 leading the horse and occasionally struggling by main force to 
 prevent his falling over the cliff. 
 
 Naturally I much preferred being carried by men whose bare 
 feet or flexible sandal enables them to grip the ground as if they 
 were endowed with extra hands. 
 
 The pay of each coolie is sixpence per diem ; in other words 
 eight men will work all day to earn the same sum as an English¬ 
 man pays for one great bottle of beer—for the bottle which at Cal¬ 
 cutta costs you one rupee, has just doubled in price ere it reaches 
 Simla—not that the consumption of Bass or Allsopp is thereby 
 one whit diminished ! The notion of paying a man sixpence for 
 his day’s labour strikes the new-comer as being decidedly mean, 
 as, of course, he has to feed himself and his family. It is, how¬ 
 ever, the regular wage of the country, and the poor creatures not 
 only contrive to exist on it, but even lay aside a fraction as an 
 offering for their gods. The only objection of the hill-men to 
 act as coolies is that they are often obliged to neglect their own 
 fields just when their presence is most required. Their attendance 
 is, ho.vever, compulsory ; that is to say, the headman of each 
 village is obliged to furnish any reasonable number required by 
 travellers. Our regiment of thirty was about the minimum with 
 which it is possible for a party to travel. 
 
 We had also half a dozen servants, namely, khansamah , khit- 
 viatgar, dhobie , bheestie, bearer , shikaree, and syce, which being 
 interpreted, are cook, waiter, laundry-man, water-carrier, valet, 
 gamekeeper, and groom. The latter proved a most useless article, 
 and was left half way in charge of his horse, riding being very 
 undesirable on these dangerous paths, and being the cause of 
 almost every accident that occurs. 
 
 After leaving the Routine Road of Simla, our way lay along 
 
FAIR IN MAHASSO FOREST. 
 
 3 2 5 
 
 narrow paths, winding up and down along the steep hill-sides, 
 sometimes through thickets of rhododendron (now only brightened 
 by a few lingering blossoms) and sometimes skirting wearisome 
 hills of bare brown earth, so ugly as to give double value to the 
 bright lilac acacia which clothes the sheltered nooks. 
 
 At last we reached a belt of finer timber and of luxuriant wild 
 roses, and soon were fairly entranced with the forest glories of 
 Mahasso, where we made our first halt. 
 
 Diverging from the regular path, a long very steep scramble 
 down a deep ravine, landed us in a gloomy gorge, with dark hills 
 on every side, and darker deodars and pine-trees overhead. Here 
 a most picturesque fair was being held. It was a great annual 
 gathering of all the wild hill tribes : uncouth looking men from 
 every part of the country, with very handsome women. Some of 
 them were quite fair; one had blue eyes. 
 
 They are not shy like the women of the plains, and never dream 
 of veiling their faces; on the contrary, they look at you with a 
 bright pleasant smile, and would be quite ready for a chat, if only 
 you could understand them. But for the very exceptional blue 
 eyes, all, as a rule, have the same large, soft, beautiful brown eyes, 
 with long, silky lashes, and the soft, rich colouring of the Spanish 
 brunette, rather inclining to olive. Their expression, when in 
 repose, often inclines to melancholy, but brightens into the utmost 
 animation when speaking. 
 
 Their walk, too, is singularly graceful, being full of that natural 
 ease which strikes us so forcibly among our own Highlanders. 
 Only, curiously enough, whereas, in our Scotch Highlands, it is the 
 men who own the light foot and distinguished bearing ; here it is 
 all absorbed by the women, who look almost like creatures of some 
 otner race from their husbands and brothers. I noticed such a 
 pretty woman, balancing on her head a great basket full of bright 
 brass lotas, and her baby perched on the top of all ! She was 
 accompanied by another who carried her child astride her hip, and 
 while with one arm she encircled the little one, the other was 
 occupied in leading a somewhat unwilling goat, by its long soft ears. 
 It was a charming group, with a background of noble fir-trees. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 326 
 
 On such a gala-day as this all the women are loaded with every 
 jewel they can command. Very rich silver ornaments are worn so 
 as to fall all round the face, besides the usual large ear and nose 
 rings; to say nothing of an occasional large turquoise set in one 
 side of the nose. Sometimes the hair is plaited in a multitude of 
 little braids, in which are twisted silver chains, and these are 
 twined into one thick tress at the back. Then, on arms and 
 ankles, are worn such a profusion of armlets and bangles as are 
 oppressive even to behold. 
 
 The weight of these ornaments would literally weigh down any 
 European woman. Ears and nose, though decked with multitudes 
 of rings of all sizes, certainly carry little weight; but the necklaces 
 of glass or stone which are worn, together with heavy brass chains, 
 the large brass brooch, the heavy anklets of solid bell-metal 
 elaborately wrought, and six or eight bracelets on each arm, as well 
 as those worn on the wrist, make up a serious amount of metal. 
 The average weight thus carried by the women of the hill tribes 
 is fully twelve pounds ; while the ornaments of a damsel in full- 
 dress sometimes weigh upwards of thirty pounds. Nevertheless 
 she carries them gracefully, in addition to the weight of her heavy 
 woollen skirt and plaid, and is ready for an extra burden if necessary. 
 Thus equipped, she will walk for miles over hill tracks that would 
 make you shudder; and on reaching the rendezvous at some hill 
 temple, is ready to dance all night by moonlight and torchlight, 
 and return to her field-work next day. 
 
 At this fair we still saw a sprinkling of the dress of the plains. 
 Otherwise I might say that at Simla we had bidden adieu to 
 turbans and white drapery, and to veiled women clad in “breeks.” 
 The dress of the Paharis, 1 though varying somewhat in different 
 districts, is very similar to that of the Lowland Scot. All the men 
 are dressed alike in a warm blouse and trousers of grey home-spun, 
 with a similar plaid over the shoulders. They carry a rope round 
 the waist ready for emergencies, to tie up bundles, or whatever 
 else may be required. They also carry a hatchet, a small skin 
 pouch for tobacco, a net bag, containing two or three coarse 
 1 i.e. Hill-people, or Highlanders. 
 
HIMALAYAN-CELTIC BROOCH. 
 
 3-7 
 
 chupatties, their day’s food, and an amulet worn round the neck. 
 Their cap is of thick woollen material, not very unlike a Scotch 
 bonnet. All the hill-women wear a round woollen cap just like 
 that of the men, but sometimes with a scarlet top. At the back of 
 the head they have a great chignon of scarlet wool, with long plaits 
 of black wool. Both men and women almost invariably wear a 
 bunch of natural flowers in their hats, generally a tuft of sweet 
 yellow roses. 
 
 The women are dressed in bright, striped, woollen material: a 
 long petticoat and plaid, sometimes in one piece, like the old 
 Scotch dress. This is caught in a heavy fold at the back (en 
 panier), and, leaving one shoulder bare, displays a very shapely 
 arm, with quaint bracelets. These ornaments are sometimes 
 of great value; but the very poorest girl fastens her plaid with a 
 large brass brooch of precisely the Old Celtic pattern, though 
 with an Oriental addition of a curly pattern forming two outer 
 circles. 
 
 These fairs are generally held in some spot where the forest is 
 held sacred, and where a small cedar temple contains an image 
 of some hill-god who presides at the festivities. There were 
 many little booths for the sale of divers treasures, and we looked 
 about for something characteristic in which we might invest as a 
 remembrance of the Mahasso fair, but we found that tire viceroy’s 
 party had already ridden out from Simla and had bought up 
 everything that was in the least curious. One of the chief 
 amusements was highly suggestive of Greenwich—namely, the 
 presence of a number of “ merry-go-rounds,” in which these wild¬ 
 looking Paharis whirled round and round with infinite delight. 
 The whole scene reminded us forcibly of the pictures of 
 Norwegian festivals. 
 
 The various pine-trees here are all more or less like gigantic 
 spruce firs; upright as masts, and festooned to the topmost 
 boughs with graceful Virginia creeper or clematis, which now was 
 starry with beautiful large white blossoms. We felt that at last 
 we had reached something worthy of the name of forest. Not 
 that Mahasso can show any of the magnificent twisted and 
 
32S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 gnarled deodars which we find farther up the country, but finer 
 specimens of the morinda and rye pine could hardly be found, 
 some of them towering a hundred and fifty or two hundred feet 
 without a bend. 
 
 Leaving the dark valley, and the picturesque groups of natives 
 camped round their great wood fires, we wearily re-ascended to 
 the upper level, and resumed our journey till we reached the 
 spot where our little white tents were already pitched, and all 
 creature comforts duly awaiting us. 
 
 On the following morning we resumed our march to Theog, 
 only a distance of six miles, but we were not anxious to hurry 
 on, preferring to travel leisurely and allow me time for 
 sketching. 
 
 On this, however, and on the following day’s march to Muttiana 
 —there is little to tempt an artist’s pencil. On every side lie 
 somewhat shapeless hills, which in this spring-time are all of 
 one dull, red earth, though a little later they will be clothed with 
 vivid green, like velvet drapery. Here, too, as we noticed below 
 Simla, although the depth of the khads is very great, and the 
 slope so rapid that you can scarcely find footing when once 
 off the beaten path, they have none of the beauty of rock or 
 precipice, and the long interminable lines in continuous sweep, 
 nowhere relieved by streamlet or lake, become very wearisome 
 to the eye. 
 
 Moreover every hill facing the south is utterly barren, and 
 when our route lay along these, the dreary expanse of red earth 
 was truly hideous. On the other hand, as we turned to face the 
 north and west, we found ourselves surrounded with a wealth of 
 vegetation that made amends for the bleaker side; a stunted, 
 lilac acacia clothing the whole khad so thickly as to give the 
 appearance of heather, while masses of very sweet roses—red, 
 pink, white, and yellow—covered every tree with their long, 
 graceful clusters, growing in such profusion as you can hardly 
 imagine. They clamber to the topmost boughs of the tall trees, 
 and thence droop in long, graceful sprays, every spray bearing 
 perhaps thirty branches, each laden with bloom. Sometimes the 
 
A PARADISE OF BLOSSOM. 
 
 329 
 
 supporting tree is so wholly veiled by these luxuriant blossoms 
 as to suggest a pillar of rosy flame, or newly sprinkled snow. 
 The yellow rose is especially fragrant, and the hill-lads, who love 
 wild flowers, will climb far down the steepest bank to secure a 
 bunch of them. As I before said, almost every hill-man you 
 meet wears a bunch of flowers in his cap. 
 
 All these grow in the densest luxuriance, actually struggling for 
 space, though, the moment you turn the hill, facing southward, 
 you find the same dreary, barren, red earth, which at best will 
 only contrive, after the rains, to clothe itself with short grass. 
 Besides the roses, there is a perfect wealth of the large white 
 clematis, and sweet white jessamine, which scents the whole air. 
 I can never forget the delight with which for the first time I 
 recognised the scent of that dear white jessamine, which in one 
 second carried me far away from Himalayan crags, back to the 
 old porch at home, and conjured up one pleasant picture after 
 another of the merry groups that have gathered there in bygone 
 days, twining wreaths of its fragrant stars. In another moment 
 I had found the beautiful shrub, and robbed it of some of its 
 wealth of blossoms, as much for the sake of “ auld lang syne ” as 
 for present enjoyment. 
 
 One spot was pointed out to us as the scene of one of those 
 fearful accidents which bring the dangers of these hills so vividly 
 before us. It was the usual story of a startled horse, growing 
 restive, and backing over the lchad ; backing the more resolutely 
 as the terrified groom strove to lead him forward, till with one 
 frightful backward plunge, the horse and his rider, a lady, dis¬ 
 appeared over the precipice. 
 
 Our fourth day’s march, from Muttiana to Narkunda, was 
 very beautiful, lying partly through a rocky gorge, and through 
 picturesque wood. At this point I think the real beauty centres. 
 Hence we had perhaps the very grandest general view of the 
 snows, still stretching right across the horizon, but apparently 
 immeasurably higher than when seen from Simla, in fact, floating 
 sometimes far above the clouds. On one side of us lay the 
 dark forest of Ilatto, running right up to the sky, and in the 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 330 
 
 cultivated valley, far below us, lay the Christian Mission Station 
 of Kotghur. 
 
 We would fain have encamped in the forest itself, but the usual 
 thing, lack of water, prevented us. The only spring had been 
 dried up by the long drought, and when we wanted a drink we 
 found only hard, dry mud. We had therefore to be content with 
 spending a long day there. We clambered up through beautiful 
 forest scenery, grand old silver firs and all manner of pines 
 clothing the steepest hill sides. On reaching a very high point, 
 in the heart of the forest, we suddenly came on what I have seen 
 nowhere else in the Himalayas, a long green glade, like an English 
 meadow, embosomed in grand timber, and commanding an ex¬ 
 quisite view of the snows for hundreds of miles. The grass was 
 enamelled with blue and white anemones like those in our 
 gardens, and carpeted with the usual wealth of maiden-hair fern, 
 while beautiful creepers festooned the trees. 
 
 It is heartrending, however, to see how this splendid forest 
 suffers from the carelessness of the Paharis, who are for ever 
 kindling fires to cook their food or light their pipes, and the fire 
 smoulders on till one after another of these grand old giants is 
 a victim, and at last the blackened remains fall with a crash, and 
 then kindly creepers twine green wreaths above the poor charred 
 remains of the forest kings. I confess we followed the vile ways 
 of other men, and let our coolies light a fire in a great hollow 
 tree—not that they asked our leave, for after all, we were only 
 visitors, while they were doing the honours of their home. So 
 they lighted their fire as they had been accustomed to do all 
 their lives, and in a few minutes the flames rushed up to the very 
 top of the tree in a fiery, red pillar. The old trunk seemed, 
 however, to be so well accustomed to acting chimney, that it was 
 flourishing in full leaf, notwithstanding many previous experiences, 
 so we hope it was none the worse for our misdeeds. Then 
 we cooked our potatoes in the wood-ashes, and enjoyed them 
 vastly. 
 
 Nevertheless, we entered our protest against such vandalism, 
 as we came on one magnificent tree after another, such as in 
 
THE SNOWY RANGE, FROM NARKUNDA. 
 Looking down to Kotghur Mission Station. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
OIL OF CEDAR-WOOD. 
 
 331 
 
 England would be accounted beyond all price, even as timber, 
 now reduced to scorched, ghostly skeletons, standing up ghastly 
 against the sky, with outstretched arms like Gustave Dore’s spirit 
 trees. The mighty monarchs had stood their ground bravely, 
 and would not yield even in death, though their leafy crowns had 
 fallen, and wintry storms and summer suns had bleached their 
 upper branches, and though the soil around their burnt and 
 blackened stems was but a heap of wood-ashes and charcoal, 
 relics of their own departed glory. 
 
 Others there were (like that wherein the coolies had kindled our 
 gipsy fire), whose huge stems had been gradually hollowed by fire 
 till they were merely shells, and you marvelled how they could 
 uphold the lofty branches—these, in their turn, sustaining the 
 weight of green creepers, which seemed as though they would 
 lovingly strive to veil the unsightly ruin wrought by the fire-spirits. 
 In truth they grew all the more luxuriantly on account of the 
 thick layers of charcoal and wood-ash. 
 
 Here and there some poor old tree had been fairly worsted in 
 the unequal fray. Fire, storm, and tempest had done their worst, 
 and at last it had succumbed after many a hard-fought battle, and 
 now the scarred timbers lay rotting on the ground, which was 
 strewn in every direction with half-burnt logs, in all stages of 
 decay. 
 
 I need scarcely add that this is not a British state, but belongs 
 to a small Rajah. It is under British protection, however, and 
 the damage would be prevented if possible, but the careless 
 Paharis are many, and the white men few. In any case they are 
 slow to learn the value of timber, and even in cutting up grand 
 cedar-trees for their own use, they make such clumsy work from 
 the fact of having no saws, only hatchets, that they can hardly get 
 half a dozen good planks, where an English carpenter would get 
 fifty. Luckily the wood splits very readily, or they would have 
 harder work still. From its fragments they extract an “oil of 
 cedar,” which they consider a specific for various skin diseases. 
 I fancy it is something of the same sort as the fir-tree oil, 
 the value of which is now so fully recognised in Europe as a 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 preventive of gout and rheumatism, or that spirit which in 
 Scotland is extracted from birch-wood, and considered so excellent 
 a remedy for rheumatism. 
 
 You must not run away with an impression that Hatto is all 
 a burnt forest. On the contrary it is even richer and more 
 beautiful than Mahasso, as you would admit, could you once look 
 down a vista of dark firs, and over the waves of the sea of foliage, 
 extending for miles, while here and there some splendid group of 
 pines sends up its tall tapering spires in dark clusters, like spectral 
 fingers pointing to the gleaming snow-pinnacles, which, rising from 
 the misty valley, seem to cleave the blue sky. 
 
 The general effect of the forest is a dark evergreen ; yet here and 
 there you find yourself beneath high twining arches of transparent 
 golden green, where the light falls through glittering emerald leaves 
 and radiant blossoms—true bowers of roses—as if through the 
 rainbow windows of some old cathedral. From that calm solitude 
 comes the soft, murmurous cooing of mother wood-doves, and 
 frisky little grey squirrels dart along with their young ones, peeping 
 in and out among the blossoms, one moment in the clear golden 
 light, the next in the green shadow. 
 
 And on every side you hear a low subdued humming of all the 
 buzzing, busy creatures, whose home and life-work lies between 
 those rough scales of bark and the smooth solid bole of the old 
 trees; while grasshoppers are chirping and leaping among the 
 leaves, and doubtless enjoying the warm, mellow sunshine, just as 
 much as those strange human creatures who have presumed to 
 invade their sanctuary, and to steal one glimpse of all that 
 loveliness—such beauty as you know to be lavished in every 
 untrodden corner of the wide world—the device of One Who 
 “ rejoiceth in His work,” and for Whose good pleasure such fair 
 things are, and were created. 
 
 Of the infinite variety of foliage through which we passed day 
 by day, the greater part is very much akin to that of Britain. The 
 different species grow in clearly-defined belts at given altitudes, 
 so that when we had in the course of a long march ascended 
 so many hills, and descended so many khads as to have fairly 
 
VEGETATION OF DIVERS ALTITUDES. 
 
 333 
 
 lost all notion of our height, we could generally form a 
 pretty good estimate thereof from the character of the shrubs 
 around us. 
 
 Thus, on the very high levels, at about 13,000 feet, are found 
 common birch, gooseberries, and strawberries—real strawberries, 
 — not the dusty, tasteless species which grow lower down. Below 
 this grows the neoza, or edible pine (Finns Gerardianus ), a pine 
 with silvery bark, and whose cones are full of long-shaped nuts, 
 good to eat, which fall out when the cone is half-baked. At about 
 9,000 feet you find magnificent deodars, which love a dry rocky 
 soil, and flourish best where they can take root in the crevices of 
 the granite rock, and there hold their ground for centuries, for they 
 are slow of growth — slow and sure—for their timber is imperishable. 
 They decrease in size on lower levels. At the same height you 
 find wild apricot, on which the mistletoe grows abundantly, also 
 mulberry-trees, and walnuts of two species — the common sort, like 
 our own, and another variety, in which the nut is so incased in an 
 inner coating of wood that it is almost impossible to extract it. 
 The Paharis bring quantities of the good nuts to Simla, where they 
 sell them at absurdly low prices, in spite of the distance they have 
 had to carry them. At about 8,000 feet you find sycamore, 
 rhododendron, holly, ilex or evergreen oak, of which there are three 
 varieties here, horse-chestnut, yew, and various pines. At about 
 5,000 feet are large cactuses, acacias, oleanders, plantains, and 
 other vegetation purely tropical. 
 
 Among the commonest varieties of pine is the morinda, which 
 resembles a fine spruce fir with very short branches. It grows to 
 a height of 120 feet, straight as an arrow, and is sometimes upwards 
 of twenty feet in circumference at the base. Its foliage is very 
 dark. 
 
 Next comes the rye, which bears much the same general cha¬ 
 racter, only its branches and needles are longer, and more pensile 
 — a weeping pine. Its wood is far more perishable than that of 
 the cedar, and therefore has comparatively little value. The tall 
 dark spiral forms of the morinda and rye, constantly combine in 
 most effective groups, all interlaced with the brilliant Virginia 
 
334 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 creeper. The cheel-pine greatly resembles our common Scotch fir, 
 and makes excellent, resinous torches. 
 
 The kolin is another common pine, growing on the lower spurs. 
 Of the Himalayan oak there are three varieties, all evergreen. One 
 of these, the kharso, abounds on the higher levels. It has the 
 great merit of taking kindly to the neglected eastern and southern 
 slopes of the hills, so that you often see one side of a hill clothed 
 entirely with this oak, and the other side with divers pines. 
 
 On some of the very high levels the white variety of tree rho¬ 
 dodendron is found, as also the crimson species ; while the bush 
 rhododendron, which rarely exceeds eight feet in height, is found, 
 both white and lilac, at the same level as birch, that is, just below 
 the snow. 
 
 We had been weak enough to imagine that the abundance of 
 game in these forests would give large variety to our commissariat 
 —a notion, the fallacy of which we very soon realised. In fact, 
 the idea of shooting for the pot soon became a standing joke, the 
 extraordinary lack of all animal life being among the most re¬ 
 markable features of these hills. It was quite an event to see even 
 a hill blackbird; and as to a covey of chickore, or hill partridges, 
 it was a thing to be chronicled. 
 
 The fact is that these wild creatures have such boundless 
 feeding-grounds that of course they shun the path that is ever 
 trodden by human foot, albeit only the foot of the goat-like native. 
 He, however, is just as likely to carry a gun as the white man, and 
 is, moreover, a wary shot, for, as he cannot afford to waste his 
 powder, he generally contrives to shoot his game sitting. One way 
 and another, these native shikarees do bag a considerable amount 
 of game, which they bring to Simla for sale. Sometimes, however, 
 they fall into the clutches of the bears, and get frightfully mutilated. 
 We saw several men whose faces had been literally torn off, and what 
 remained was without feature of any sort—horrible to behold. 
 When I bethought me of my own brother clasped in that aAvful 
 embrace, I felt thankful indeed that the grisly mother-bear had been 
 content with crunching his arm, and had spared his face. 1 
 
 1 Wild Men and Wild Beasls. By Colonel W. Gordon Gumming. 
 
SCARCITY OF GAME. 
 
 335 
 
 As to bears, we met various gentlemen—several of whom were 
 experienced old sportsmen—who had been vainly toiling in pursuit 
 of the creatures, seeking them among the ripe apricots in the valleys, 
 and on the strawberry beds close to the snows, and the more they 
 sought the more they declared that the thing was a snare and a 
 delusion—-that there was no game in the country; and indeed it 
 seemed as if they were right, for not one of the men we met had 
 had any sport worth mentioning, only a great deal of very hard 
 work. 
 
 For you can imagine that toiling up and down these dreadful 
 khads is not exactly like a walk on a Highland moor. Perhaps, as 
 you pick your steps over the slippery short grass and fir needles^ 
 your foot may give one little slide, then woe betide you. The 
 whole bank seems one polished surface, glittering with fir needles, 
 and away you glide over the steepest, driest, most slippery grass- 
 slope that ever was created, at an angle all but precipitous, happy 
 indeed, if you do not go helplessly on, till you crash down over the 
 crags into darkness and annihilation. 
 
 But, apart from so horrible a contingency, sport on such ground 
 is at best a toilsome pleasure—emphatically pleasure under diffi¬ 
 culties. If you have the luck to shoot a bird, it will certainly 
 fall at some incredible distance below you, where the chances are 
 you never find it; or, if it is a wounded creature, it may crawl up 
 the other side, where you are bound to follow it. Sometimes the 
 ravine is so narrow that you can shoot game on the opposite bank, 
 but it may cost an hour’s scramble to reach the place where it 
 lies. 
 
 How, under such circumstances, you would envy the great eagles 
 and kites that float so easily about, sailing across the valley with 
 such smooth, gliding motion. Great lammergeyers, and bearded 
 vultures which sometimes measure nine feet from tip to tip, and 
 keen-eyed falcons, are among the birds of prey that contrive to pick 
 up a living. So we infer that some food must exist. 
 
 Dr. Russell, in travelling hereabouts, says that in the month of 
 September his party killed an immense number of chickore, kallidge 
 pheasants, and minaul, and that in November, when the cover is 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 33° 
 
 not so thick, they might have had far better sport. They were on 
 their way to Rampore by the old road, which is now impassable. 
 So perhaps the birds take refuge there still. Certainly in the 
 months of June, July, and August they were invisible. 
 
 The only exception we heard of, in the general chorus of ex¬ 
 asperated sportsmen, was in the case of Mr. Buck, a very keen 
 ornithologist, who is so perfectly skilled in imitating the calls of 
 different rare birds that the deluded victims respond, and, coming 
 close to the beguiling voice, pay the penalty of their curiosity- 
 This chiefly applies to the argus, or horned pheasant, wary as his 
 namesake of old, but withal so jealous that he can brook no rival, 
 and at once responding to the far-away call, flies to give battle to 
 the intruder, but finds the odds are hopelessly to his disadvantage. 
 Besides the argus, there are the kallidge, or black pheasant, the 
 cheer, or snow pheasant, and the minaul pheasant. 
 
 The latter is a magnificent bird. When you do have the luck 
 to see him on the wing, he flashes past you like a ray of pris¬ 
 matic light, a dazzling mass of iridescent metallic green, blue, 
 bronze, gold, purple, and crimson, changing in every light, and 
 glossy as satin, with a beautiful crest of drooping feathers. The 
 argus is more quaker-like, but beautiful in his neatness. His 
 plumage is brown with black and pearly-white spots. The snow 
 pheasant is rather a dirty-grey bird. There ought also to be 
 sundry varieties of partridges, snipe, and woodcock, but we had 
 little chance of making acquaintance with them, either on the wing 
 or in the larder. 
 
 Having spent a delightful day in Hatto forest, we returned to 
 our tents, which had been pitched near the travellers’ bungalow 
 atNarkunda, 8,676 feet above the sea. We had by this time 
 become thoroughly enamoured of our gipsy life, and were daily 
 more and more enchanted with its freedom. The escape from 
 every phase of civilised formality, from all fixed laws of action, 
 from regular hours, each meal being henceforth a movable feast, 
 no wearisome seven or eight o’clock dinner to waste two precious 
 hours, but a merry supper by our camp-fire whenever we were 
 ready for it; and then “ early to bed and early to rise ”—in short, 
 
DELIGHT OF CAMP-LIFE. 
 
 337 
 
 it was an escape from the old stereotyped existence whose com¬ 
 fortable, commonplace round we had run, till it had become 
 altogether monotonous and humdrum; and we rejoiced exceed¬ 
 ingly to think that for three whole months we could know 
 nothing of the well-appointed British social life, and its weari¬ 
 some sameness; but that day after day, and week after week, 
 must slip by in ever-changing scenes, while we wandered from 
 one beautiful spot to another, snail-like, carrying about our 
 locomotive homes, or rather not snail-like, making others fag 
 for us. 
 
 So here on this lovely starlit night we found our tent-homes 
 pitched on a grassy bank; a blazing camp-fire, both for warmth 
 and safety, as the leopards are apt to be troublesome in the 
 dark, and the most comfortable of suppers all ready for us. 
 
 And then, an hour later, looking out from the little tent, an 
 oft-recurring allegory of “ the near and the heavenly horizons ’’ 
 seemed to paint itself on earth and sky, an allegory of enduring 
 light, veiled by the nearer trifles of the moment. A very common 
 parable, but one which suggests itself as often as you sit at night 
 working beside an open window. Your work is engrossing, every¬ 
 thing within the rays of your little camp is so distinct, while 
 without all is thick night. 
 
 One breath extinguishes that earth light, and within your 
 home all is dark. But suddenly the great heaven is lighted by 
 10,000 gleaming worlds; and to-night as I looked up, not the 
 stars only were there, for' on the far horizon a pale, cold line 
 of glittering peaks towered above the mist like white spirits at 
 rest. 
 
 And one little glimmering taper close at hand had hidden all 
 this peaceful loveliness! 
 
 z 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 UNDER CANVAS. 
 
 Opium Fields — Kotghur Mission Station — Native Christians — Devil 
 Worshippers—Ascent to Thandarli—A Tea Plantation—A Sociable 
 Pariah—Descent from the Temperate Zone to the Tropics—Gorge of the 
 Sutlej—A March under Difficulties—Rampore—A Spoilt Rajah—Rest- 
 house versus Tent—A Plague of Flies—Camp at Gowrah. 
 
 On leaving Narkunda we likewise lost the general view of the 
 snowy range. Henceforth our path was to wind in and out of 
 valleys, and up and down steep hills, whence we could rarely 
 see more than a few peaks at a time. Of these we often caught 
 such glimpses on reaching our night’s camping-ground, as 
 promised good subjects for the morrow’s sketch. Too often, 
 however, the morning revealed only a sheet of grey vapour, so 
 blending with the sky that we could scarcely believe it possible 
 that hills lay hidden behind that filmy veil. There was nothing 
 for it but to finish a careful drawing of rocks and trees and nearer 
 hills, in the faith, rarely disappointed, that sooner or later a light 
 breeze would stir the clouds. Then, like some spectral vision, 
 a great shoulder would reveal itself here, and a tall peak there, 
 looming fitfully through the mist like phantoms from the spirit world. 
 
 Our route lay through Hatto forest, far below the green glade 
 where we had spent the previous day. The path lay along a 
 khad so steep that it sometimes rose and fell almost precipi¬ 
 tously above and below us, and we had to look far down for the 
 bases of the grand old pines whose tops seemed to reach up to 
 
OPIUM POPPIES. 
 
 339 
 
 heaven. The hill was here clothed with magnificent silver fir, 
 also with the morinda and rye pine. The latter occasioned an 
 irresistible confusion in our natural history, rye meaning mustard; 
 and certainly these tall “ mustard ” trees were the “ greatest of all 
 herbs.” I fear, however, they would scarcely have supplied our 
 cruet-stand ! 
 
 Here, as usual, we noticed that the trees half burnt away were 
 always the most richly festooned with Virginia creepers and 
 wild roses. In the sheltered hollows were clumps of fine 
 horse-chestnut in full blossom, also a large kind of bird-cherry, 
 and a few scarlet blossoms still lingered on the rhododendrons. 
 The ground in places was blue with larkspur and covered with 
 primrose plants; I also found one delicate lilac auricula, which 
 carried my heart straight home to the old garden where these 
 fragrant blossoms used to bloom so luxuriantly long ago. 
 
 On emerging from the forest we passed by a multitude of tiny, 
 terraced fields; some were full of white poppies, shortly to be con¬ 
 verted into opium, that curse of many lands. I had heard of the 
 poppy fields as being rainbow fields, purple, yellow, white, and 
 pink, and those of China are blood-red. Those we saw were all 
 pure white, which I believe is the case generally throughout India. 
 So fair a crop gave no hint of the evil which those fair blossoms 
 might be made to work, when transformed to that malignant poison 
 which has done so much to degrade and enervate myriads. The 
 opium is drawn from the seed vessels; as soon as these are fully 
 formed, an incision is made in each every evening, and by 
 morning a drop of milky juice has exuded. This is scraped off 
 carefully and boiled, and is thus prepared for market. 
 
 Happily this evil crop does not seem to be extensively culti¬ 
 vated hereabouts, but it monopolises a terribly large proportion of 
 the richest land in the fertile valley of the Ganges, especially in 
 the province of Behar, and in the neighbourhood of Benares— 
 the most thickly-peopled districts, where it would scarcely be 
 possible for the land to support so dense a population, even were 
 it all devoted to growing grain and cotton, instead of the most 
 fertile tracts being given up to these wretched poppies. 
 
 Z 2 
 
340 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 It is known that the produce of an acre of fair soil will keep a 
 human being in comfort, but the same extent of the very richest 
 irrigated land will only produce fourteen pounds’ weight of opium, 
 and yet India’s annual export of poison is something considerably 
 over sixty-thousand chests of 140 lbs each. 1 
 
 Is it not pitiful that notwithstanding the indescribable misery 
 resulting, on the one hand from the use of opium, and on the 
 other, from oft-recurring years of famine (which might at least be 
 mitigated, were good food grown on all the land now devoted to 
 raising deadly poison), Christian Britain actually continues for 
 filthy lucre’s sake to promote the still further increase of this 
 devil’s traffic, merely raising the price paid to its cultivators, to 
 enable it to maintain its ground against such crops as wheat, 
 rice and potatoes (which, of late years have doubled in 
 price !). 
 
 1 I have heard it asserted that the Supreme Government of India has no 
 monopoly of opium. This may be true as regards Bombay, which derives its 
 Opium Revenue from the Transit Duty of £70 per chest of 140 lbs., paid by 
 inland native states, for the privilege of transporting their produce through 
 British territory to the shipping ports. 
 
 But the opium shipped from Calcutta is purely the property of the Govern¬ 
 ment, which does not allow one acre of British India to be devoted to the 
 cultivation of poppies without license, and which encourages the poppy farms, 
 by granting advances of money without interest. All the opium produced 
 must be given to the official agent at Government price ; not an ounce may be 
 retained by the cultivator under heavy penalties, and any dispute concerning 
 weight or quality can only be determined by the opium agents, no reference to 
 ordinary courts being allowed. 
 
 The opium thus produced costs the Government about £40 per chest of 
 140 lbs., and brings in from £120 to .£130. In the year 1878-79, fifty-five 
 thousand chests were sold by auction for six million, seven hundred thousand 
 pounds. 1 In the following year the Indian revenue derived from opium had 
 increased to about eight millions sterling, and now has risen to about nine 
 millions sterling! 
 
 The openly avowed intention of the Government is “to push the cultivation 
 by every possible means, and obtain as much revenue as possible out of opium,” 
 avowing itself “ perfectly indifferent to the deleterious effect which opium may 
 produce on the people to whom it is sold.” This was the official statement of 
 a recent Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, and Sir William "Muir remarks that 
 
 55,500 chests realised ,£6,798,639. 
 
KOTGHUR MISSION STATION. 
 
 341 
 
 It is bad enough, that one-third of all the barley grown in 
 Scotland should be converted into whisky, for the destruction, 
 body and soul, of so many of our own countrymen, but here it 
 is a question of preparing poison of an infinitely worse 
 type. 
 
 As a general rule there was so little possibility of making any 
 mistake as to our day’s destination that our little party con¬ 
 stantly divided in the morning, sure of meeting again through the 
 day, or at least of finding the tents at night.. Thus I was free 
 to halt four hours at any good sketching point, while my com¬ 
 panions went in search of game or explored the forests. Very 
 often I started with my dandie-bearers long before the others 
 were awake ; a watchful brownie having brought me bread and 
 chocolate for breakfast, together with a bottle of milk and a 
 supply of cold meat and bread for the day. So it was very 
 often evening before we met at our next camping-ground to talk 
 over the adventures of the day as we gathered round the red 
 wood-fire. 
 
 All we knew at starting was that we were to halt at a dis¬ 
 tance of so many coss; a delightfully vague expression. A coss 
 is supposed to be about a mile and a-half, but this, like the 
 Scotch mile and a bittock, is capable of indefinite expansion. 
 
 On this particular morning we were bound for Kotghur, and 
 my companions started first, hoping for a chance of game in the 
 forest, before the coolies had disturbed the ground. In due time 
 I followed, and my dandie-wallahs very naturally took the road 
 to the Mission Station at Kotghur, whither the whole procession 
 of coolies followed with tents and baggage. The path wound 
 down an interminable hill, till we reached the level of the river 
 
 “the Government has strained every nerve to carry out the policy it has 
 adopted, endeavouring to secure a wider area of poppy cultivation by the bait 
 of large advances among an unwilling peasantry, at the risk of inoculating 
 them with a taste for the drug.” 
 
 This reads strangely when compared with the despatch of the East India 
 Directors in 1817, when they state that if it were possible to prevent the use 
 of the drug altogether, except as medicine, they would gladly do it, in compassion 
 to mankind. 
 
342 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Sutlej, and came to a dak bungalow. Nothing was, however, 
 to be heard of the others. It was evident they had taken 
 some other road, and, as several other bungalows were dotted 
 about the hills, it was very uncertain where they might be found. 
 At the dak bungalow I found an Englishman who had just 
 returned from the wilds of Kulu. He of course could give no 
 information. 
 
 In this emergency I bethought me of consulting the “Padre,” 
 and so made for the Mission Station. I was welcomed by Herr 
 Rebsch and his family to a pretty home with a wide verandah full 
 of flowers, and covered with trellis-work and vines ; a home with 
 all the comforts of civilised life—piano, harmonium, pictures. The 
 very sight of mine host’s kind, benevolent face seemed a haven of 
 rest from perplexities. In a very few minutes messengers were 
 despatched to the various spots where the wanderers might have 
 gone, and while we waited their return I accepted a cordial in¬ 
 vitation to breakfast, and did full justice to the unwonted luxury 
 of excellent, home-made bread, for it must be confessed that the 
 never varying chapatties very quickly became exceeding distasteful 
 to us, especially when, as in the early morning, we had to eat 
 them cold, and our souls loathed the heavy, round cakes, and 
 recalled the remark once made to us by a Highland lassie, that it 
 was “ so dull eating bad bread ! ” 
 
 On our return two months later, we made a long halt near 
 Kotghur, and had further opportunities of proving the kindness 
 of these good friends. Here they had lived seven years, and 
 have a fair handful of native Christians, whom we saw assembled 
 for daily morning prayer, and were struck by their very superior 
 look to the low castes, whence our converts are usually drawn. 
 It is, however, a very small proportion of the children trained in 
 the schools who show the slightest tendency to become Christians 
 in after years; the most that can be hoped is that gradually 
 prejudice may melt away, and that the people may lose faith in 
 their own superstitions. 
 
 Already very many are ashamed openly to call themselves 
 Devil-worshippers, as in fact they are, but the more unsophisticated 
 
A WEARY EXTRA MARCH. 
 
 343 
 
 still point out their temples as “ Sheitan ka Bungalow.” 1 Their 
 faith differs greatly from that of the Hindoo of the plains, in 
 more ways than merely in abstaining from ablutions, which is the 
 most palpable difference. They say that, as it is quite impossible 
 to worship all the thirty-three millions of gods, they must omit 
 the good spirits who will not harm them, and devote all their 
 energies to propitiate the evil spirits, who are always on the alert 
 to do mischief. 
 
 So every here and there along the road you see a sacred bush 
 covered with strips of rag, as votive offerings to the spirit of stream 
 or forest, and here every passer-by halts to do obeisance, or 
 “ make pooja ” as they say. 
 
 In a couple of hours tidings were brought of the runaways, who 
 had been found at a road bungalow at Thandarh, fully three miles 
 farther, where they were impatiently awaiting our arrival. They 
 had kept to an upper path, and had never lost level at all. The 
 tired coolies looked ruefully at their burdens, as they thought of 
 that weary three miles up a steep hill, and it needed all the hope 
 of backsheesh to brace them to their work. However they “ set 
 a stout heart to a stey brae ” with the usual happy result. 
 
 My poor dandie-bearers groaned audibly, but, being utterly 
 unable to walk myself, I had to abstain from all commi¬ 
 seration, remembering another good proverb which tells that 
 “ pity without relief, is like mustard without beef,” a stimu¬ 
 lant which it was as well to withhold. I confess I often did 
 feel sorry for these poor fellows, and would fain have lightened 
 their burden, but I found that the more I walked myself, the 
 more they grunted when they resumed work; so, knowing that 
 the fatigue would only involve an extra sleep for them, while it 
 would certainly mean exhaustion and fever for me, I found it best 
 generally to practise a judicious selfishness, and to sit still, 
 knowing that when they were really tired they would deposit me, 
 dandie and all, and go off for a smoke. 
 
 They are stout, sturdy little chaps, much the same build as our 
 strongest Highlanders, and it takes a good deal really to fatigue 
 1 House of Devils. 
 
344 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 them, though they would rarely miss their laugh, at the weight 
 of the “chota Missi Baba” (little Miss Baby), as they derisively 
 called their heavy burden. They are merry enough as a rule, 
 with a bright, independent manner, very different from that of the 
 subdued, obsequious Hindoo of the plains. It has often been 
 noticed of these latter that, like the Scotch Highlanders, they 
 cannot endure “chaff.” These hill-men, however, seem to give 
 and take any amount of it, and are for ever laughing and joking, 
 and ready to make the best of everything. I invariably heard 
 gentlemen speak in the highest terms of those who accompanied 
 them on their shooting expeditions ; no matter what hardships 
 they encountered, they were always sure of their men. 
 
 At last we reached the brow of the hill, where our hungry 
 companions were waiting, having found shelter from the sun in a 
 small bungalow, alive with flies. You would imagine that all the 
 flies that had ever been created assembled in these road bungalows 
 for the special annoyance of travellers; every nook and cranny, 
 every shelf, every chair, literally swarms with them. It was a 
 glad moment when our tents were pitched and we were “ at home ” 
 once more. There were dark clouds threatening on every side, 
 as indeed they had been doing for some days ; but we had learnt 
 to think nothing of a passing thunderstorm, which only added 
 grandeur to the hills. A few extra tent-pegs, and a little wall of 
 earth round the tent, leaving a tiny ditch to carry off rain, made 
 all snug for the night, whatever might happen, and we knew that 
 at this season we were not likely to be washed away. 
 
 How the servants managed to keep themselves alive was a 
 continual mystery. Even when we camped near a house, the 
 best they could hope for was a corner of the open verandah, and 
 often they had not even the shelter of a big stone, but just lay 
 round the fire all through the chilly night. And yet they were 
 always ready and willing. No matter how long and weary a 
 march they might have had, the fires were kindled and dinner 
 cooked in less than no time; and when I wanted to make an 
 unusually early start, at whatever hour of the night I might 
 order breakfast, it was certain to be brought to my tent as 
 
TEA PLANTATIONS. 
 
 345 
 
 punctually as clockwork. Just imagine how British servants 
 would grumble should such service and such irregular hours be 
 required of them ! ! 
 
 Our camp to-day was pitched on the edge of a tea-garden ; 
 perhaps it would be better to say a tea-plantation. The young 
 trees were planted in rows, several feet apart, and at this season 
 resembled well-grown cabbages. On our return we found them 
 about three feet high, pruned down to little dumpy shrubs, like 
 dwarf orange-trees. The young leaves are picked off, and carried 
 every evening to a factory near, where they are rubbed by hands 
 till most of their juice is squeezed out; they are then baked in 
 large metal cauldrons, after which they are dried in the sun, and 
 sorted. It is said that the finer sorts of tea grow best on the 
 higher levels, but that lower down the leaves are more abundant, 
 and the crop consequently heavier. 
 
 The jungly ground beyond the tea-fields was crimson and white 
 with the profusion of wild roses, and we also found a quantity of 
 most delicious, yellow raspberries, the berry somewhat resembling 
 the avron or cloud-berry of our Scotch mountains. From this 
 point we looked right up the gorge of the Sutlej, of which we 
 could catch an occasional glimpse in the valley far below. Its 
 deep roar reached us only as a distant, subdued murmur, as it 
 floated upon the breeze. On every side of us lay richly-wooded 
 hills, fragrant with the resinous scent of pine-needles baking in 
 the hot sun ; and beyond the river rose tier above tier of great 
 reddish mountains, snow-capped. 
 
 At Kotghur we were supposed to have reached the Ultima 
 Thule of civilisation. Beyond this point there is no regular post, 
 and whatever is required must be sent for by coolies, to whom you 
 entrust a chit, alias letter, which they carry at the end of a split 
 stick, just in the way that English village children bring you 
 bunches of sweet violets. Thus your letter is carried for. days, 
 and is at last delivered as clean as when it started. We found, 
 however, that two or three gentlemen, having work farther up the 
 country, had established a runner of their own. Consequently 
 we were never beyond reach of letters. Moreover, the baboo in 
 
34-6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 charge of the post-office proved a most invaluable traveller’s right- 
 hand. Whatever we might require—from live minaul pheasants 
 to bring home, down to sacks of potatoes, flour or sugar, for 
 present consumption—we had only to send word to our most 
 intelligent friend, who forthwith supplied all our need. 
 
 So we went on our way rejoicing, still followed by a huge pariah 
 dog, who had offered us the nose of friendship on the morning we 
 left Simla, and had utterly refused to leave us ever since, a mark 
 of affection which gratified us vastly, though, as we discovered 
 two days later, the curious creature had merely availed himself of 
 our escort for safety as far as Rampore, where, for reasons of his 
 own, he wished to go. At Rampore, therefore, he bade us 
 farewell, and refused to go another step! 
 
 Our next march was to carry us down to Neritt in the gorge of 
 the Sutlej. It was a frightfully steep descent of five thousand 
 feet, which brought us back to the tropical vegetation of the 
 plains, to large-leaved plantains and great cactuses in every 
 crevice of the rocks, while wild caper (suggestive of boiled 
 mutton) draped the cliff with its graceful tendrils and silky 
 blossom, which resembles a white and lilac passion-flower. 
 Imagine the suddenness of this change from the English tem¬ 
 perature and vegetation which we had quitted in the afternoon. 
 We tried to shorten the march by a short cut, which as usual 
 proved the longest way, inasmuch as the track was intolerably 
 steep. Of course my dandie was useless, and the scramble was 
 one much to be avoided. 
 
 The heat in the gorge of the river was so great that it was not 
 considered safe to halt there for many hours. We did not, there¬ 
 fore, descend till the evening, so that ere we reached the valley 
 the sun had set, and it was quite dark when we reached our desti¬ 
 nation. We found our tents pitched near the stream, which 
 roared with deafening noise, and we could just discern a picturesque 
 village, and houses roofed with great slabs of stone. 
 
 By 3 a.m. we were again astir, drinking our chocolate by the 
 pale starlight, which lent mystery to a curious old temple just 
 below us, overshadowed by plantains, whose broad crinkled leaves 
 
LACK OF COOLIES. 347 
 
 glistened with dewy jewels, and by pink oleanders, and other 
 flowers too lovely for a Sheitan ka Bungalow. 
 
 To me it was irresistible, and not having yet learnt a wholesome 
 dread of Indian heat, I could not but linger long enough to get a 
 slight sketch of the place. The others pushed on; the baggage 
 followed. Only the blue-eyed shikaree stayed to watch over me, 
 and a very faithful watch-dog he proved on this occasion, for, 
 owing to some mistake about the coolies, our number was 
 deficient, and only two could by any means be procured for my 
 dandie, a bad look-out, as we had fully fourteen miles’ march 
 before us, in really oppressive heat. 
 
 At last, when things began to look serious, Nanko (for so he of 
 the blue eyes was called, and, by the way, he was the only blue¬ 
 eyed native man I ever saw) contrived to capture two more, and 
 with promises and threats succeeded in getting them under weigh. 
 I believe the poor wretches were really anxious about their 
 fields ; certain it is that when we had gone two or three miles 
 they bolted. This was a pretty fix, for my scramble of the 
 previous evening had not improved my limited walking powers, 
 and the men generally relieve guard every few minutes. However, 
 sometimes walking, sometimes carried, we got on some distance. 
 
 Here I encountered the famous “ Briton of the Desert,” one 
 whom I knew well by sight, and knew his word was law with all 
 these natives, so I concluded my troubles were over. By no 
 means. We had never been formally introduced, so although 
 there was perhaps not another white woman within a hundred 
 miles, except Mrs. Graves, who by this time was near Rampore, 
 this knight-errant of the Sutlej, although a Scotchman, quickened 
 his pace to a trot, just as I tried to screw up the necessary courage 
 to ask his aid, and so we passed in solemn silence. So there was 
 nothing for it but to struggle on. 
 
 At length we reached a village, and then halted by a spring 
 overshadowed by a great banyan tree, and after wearisome delays 
 two other men were captured—a very insufficient number for so 
 long a march; but there was no alternative. We learnt afterwards 
 that the difficulty of obtaining coolies in this district is greatly due 
 
34^ 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 to the fact that there are in this district several purely Brahman 
 villages, and as these fair-skinned aristocrats will not cultivate their 
 own terraced rice-fields, they compel the dark-skinned race to 
 work for them. Foreigners are therefore obliged to procure 
 coolies from villages further up the mountains. 
 
 For fourteen miles our route lay close to the Sutlej, a most 
 uninviting stream at this season, when, swollen with melted snow 
 and full of white mica and sand, it rushes along in a vast mass of 
 dirty, turbid water, great tossing waves of dirty yellow and white 
 foam, very rapid and horribly noisy. O dear! how weary we did 
 become of the roaring of that stream, when sometimes we could 
 not get away from it all day long, being hemmed in on either side 
 by great precipitous cliffs. 
 
 But to-day it was all quite new—and this march was certainly 
 most beautiful—here and there we crossed small streams clear as 
 crystal, coming, not from the snows, but from their source in the 
 hard rocky mountains, far up the lovely little valleys which opened 
 from this main gorge, sometimes bare, sometimes richly wooded, 
 while here and there a waterfall came tumbling over the rocks, 
 boiling and hissing, adding its note to the deafening din, as it 
 fell into the deep dark pool below. 
 
 We met one or two men suffering from goitre—most hideous 
 deformity—the penalty of drinking ice-water. Undoubtedly in the 
 exceeding heat of these low-lying valleys it must be a sore 
 temptation both to bathe and drink of the cool streams, even 
 though they do come direct from the glacier and are fraught with 
 such danger. Certainly wherever we came to any little reach of 
 the river where a quiet back-water made such a thing possible, 
 there were sure to be a few bathers, and my little body-guard went 
 in and out of the river like a troop of seals. 
 
 At one place we came on a group of black tents of coarse goats’ 
 hair or camels’ hair canvas, round which were lying avast number 
 of goats. It was the camp of some Thibetan traders from far up 
 the valley, essentially Chinese in countenance, having narrow 
 oblique eyes and flattened features. They wear jackets of coarse 
 fur or leather ; men and women seem to dress much alike, but the 
 
RAMPORE, “THE CITY OF RAMA.’ ! 
 
A HOME IN THE CLIFF. 
 
 349 
 
 latter have sometimes coloured petticoats. Their fine black hair 
 is plaited in countless braids, and apparently never brushed; but 
 the common head-gear consists of a broad band of cloth, on which 
 are fastened large turquoises, coins, and lumps of agate; beads of 
 common English glass and the most precious gems are stuck on 
 quite promiscuously. These are generally heirlooms, from which 
 the owners never part. 
 
 At another place, as we toiled along through deep, dry sand 
 close to the river, we glanced up at the face of the cliff, and there 
 perceived some grass wattling high up. It was a regular home in 
 the rock, and a large family had here found shelter. Even the 
 smallest children clambered up and down the most dangerous- 
 looking ledge as if it were the smoothest pavement. Imagine 
 what a strange place to call home—among barren, naked, almost 
 inaccessible crags, with the roaring, rushing river for ever raging 
 just below. Fancy the utter loneliness of such a place when wild 
 storms come sweeping down the gorge, bringing great masses of 
 slaty rock crashing from the cliffs ; and never a living thing comes 
 near save the stately eagle, soaring against the tempest I There is 
 something strange, stern, and solemn in the very thought of such a 
 cradle, where every influence of mountain gloom and mountain 
 glory must by turns exert its might on the spirits of these wild 
 children of nature. 
 
 That our course must lie along the Sutlej valley was a matter 
 not left to our choice, as the only practicable road is that which 
 has recently been made by the English Government, and which is 
 still slowly progressing towards Thibet via Rampore, which is the 
 capital of Bussahir and stands on the brink of the river. The 
 name of this town conveys to the Hindoo mind precisely the same 
 idea as Allahabad does to the Mohammedan; it is emphatically 
 “the city of God.” Rampore is the city of Rama, whose name is 
 the Hindoo’s bond of brotherhood over the length and breadth of 
 the land; for just as two Mohammedans invariably greet one 
 another in the name of Allah, so the invariable salutation of two 
 Hindoos is simply the cry of Ram, Ram. 
 
 One of the largest fairs of the Himalayas is annually held here, 
 
350 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and all the treasures of Thibet, Yarkand, and all those far-away 
 districts are brought here to be exchanged by the merchants from 
 the plains for such simple products of civilisation as may find use 
 among men whose requirements are so few. 
 
 It was therefore necessary that whatever road was made to the 
 frontier districts should pass through the city; and as the old native 
 path was merely a track, winding among difficult and dangerous 
 cliffs—sometimes by natural ledges, sometimes over a bit of plank, 
 bridging some frightful chasm, and often so steep that no beast of 
 burden larger than a goat could clamber up—it became a question 
 of very difficult engineering to make such a road as that now in use 
 —one at any point of which two laden mules should be able to 
 pass one another in safety. It was also necessary that the road 
 should be constructed below the ordinary limit of snow, which is 
 estimated at 12,000 feet above the sea level ; and so it was found 
 that by generally following the course of the river, some of the most 
 overwhelming difficulties would be avoided. 
 
 There was formerly, however, another road of English con¬ 
 struction, with certain advantages of its own, for which we, 
 travelling only in search of the beautiful, did long exceedingly. It 
 commanded distant views of far-away snows, and led away into 
 a region of silence ; whereas by this new road one hardly ever 
 escapes from the noise of the waters, or from the steep precipitous 
 cliffs which hem one in. The old road formerly ran from 
 Narkunda to Serahan, which is two marches beyond Rampore, 
 keeping a high level the whole way, and altogether avoiding this 
 dangerous hot valley. There were good dak bungalows at intervals 
 all along the road. Now there are no travellers’ bungalows beyond 
 Kotghur ; and although, by the courtesy of the road commissioners 
 travellers are allowed to halt at the road bungalows, these are for 
 the most part rough and ready, and have, of course, no staff of 
 servants. Moreover, you are always liable to find them occupied, 
 so you must necessarily carry your own tent. Since this new road 
 has been made to Rampore, the old one has been allowed to fall 
 into disrepair, and is now impassable; so whether you like heat 
 or not, you must travel up the gorge. 
 
EFFECTS OF SEMI-ENGLISH EDUCATION. 
 
 351 
 
 As I before said, this march is very beautiful, and quite unlike 
 any other, from the purely tropical character of its vegetation, the 
 enormous cactuses which everywhere clothe the rocks, and the 
 silky blossoms of the wild capers. Nevertheless we were right glad 
 when at length we caught sight of the town of Rampore, with its 
 jula , or rope bridge, its temples, and all its quaint hill houses, with 
 their overhanging upper storys and balconies of carved cedar-wood. 
 The foreground was peculiar, having a great gallows beside the 
 river, where the Rajah of Bussahir hangs malefactors. 
 
 The Rajah (though of very noble ancestry, and priding himself 
 on a pedigree which carries him back through a hundred and 
 twenty generations to some legendary hero) is himself a very 
 contemptible mortal, being a youth'of semi-English up-bringing. 
 Elis education seems to have been entrusted to a baboo, who 
 taught him good English and the abuse of strong liquor, which he 
 at once demands from all travellers whom he honours with a call, 
 occasionally prolonging his visit for so many hours that his forcible 
 removal becomes necessary. One of his great topics is the subject 
 of English guns and gun-makers; and every gentleman whom he 
 visits is invariably requested to sell his favourite rifle or his 
 travelling clock, a negotiation which is generally closed by the 
 fumes of brandy obscuring the princely intellect. 
 
 Elis picturesque palace is perched on a rock overhanging the 
 river, and just opposite is his zenana, the balconies of which are 
 entirely closed in with carved wood. He generally, however, 
 prefers living in his summer palace at Serahan, much farther up 
 the hill. 
 
 All the houses in this part of the country are more or less alike. 
 A square base of stone acts as granary and stable for cattle. A 
 staircase outside leads up to an overhanging balcony which sur¬ 
 rounds the wooden dwelling-house. Perhaps a second still wider 
 story is above this. The roof is peaked, and slated with large 
 slabs of grey shingle or slate, or even of cedar-wood. All the 
 gables are elaborately carved with hanging ornaments of wood— 
 arabesques, or curious heads. 
 
 I was very anxious to buy some of the brightly-striped woollen 
 
352 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 material which most of the women hereabouts wear, and for which 
 this town is noted. It seemed, however, to be only forthcoming 
 at the time of the great fair, when all manner of treasures are to 
 be had. One or two pieces were offered to me, but as the pretty 
 damsels who brought them had obviously had considerable wear 
 out of them, our trading came to nought. 
 
 All this time the hot air was blowing down the valley like the 
 blast from a furnace, scorching our faces, which was the more 
 curious as it seemed to blow right down from the snows. I 
 suppose, however, that in passing over the burning crags it caught 
 heat on its way. We hurried through the town, having decided 
 to spend the night at a road bungalow about two miles farther— 
 on considerably higher ground, and consequently somewhat cooler. 
 We were still close to the river, surrounded by dark rocks, from 
 every cleft of which the great cactuses thrust forth their pale, 
 many-handed arms. They are such uncanny-looking plants that 
 I am sure they must hold some place in the ghost stories of the 
 land ! 
 
 We agreed to sleep in the bungalow, so that we might get away 
 sharp in the morning, and not have to waste time in packing the 
 tents. We paid the penalty, however, for so doing, having been 
 nearly consumed by sand flies, most aggravating little pests. It is 
 bad enough to be bitten by some creature that you can pursue, but 
 nothing can exceed the annoyance of these painful bites from 
 invisible foes. Moreover, the house was literally swarming with 
 flies, which clustered in black, disgusting masses on every crumb 
 of bread, and every grain of sugar. Knowing that the next march 
 was likely to be very hot after sunrise, we deemed it well to get 
 as far as possible while the hill lay in shadow, as our route lay 
 straight up its side. We were therefore astir at 3 a.m. in the cold 
 grey morning. Somehow in this clear atmosphere less sleep seems 
 necessary, and we wake feeling buoyant and up to anything. 
 We are glad of all our extra wraps too, for even the invariable cup 
 of hot chocolate cannot keep out the chill light breeze—that chill 
 that always sets in before the dawn, ’twixt night and morning. 
 
 But for the noise of the river, from which we are now rising 
 
“FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW. 
 
 353 
 
 rapidly, there would be no sound to break the spell of silence 
 which hangs around, save the calls and cries of wild birds 
 welcoming the returning light. As we look upward from the 
 deep shadow, we see the hill above us glowing like burnished gold 
 against tire bluest of blue skies, where delicate vapour-wreaths float 
 like angel wings ; and as the ruddy light of sunrise kisses the 
 golden lichen on the rocks, they seem as though gleaming with 
 living fire. 
 
 A few minutes later the sun clears the horizon, the light breeze 
 falls, but we are still glad of our thick woollen raiment, to protect 
 us from his burning rays. Such are the perpetual variations in 
 this climate — so cold in the shade — so hot in the sun. One day 
 in the depths of a tropical valley—the next in the heart of the 
 snows. No wonder that many people find such variations sorely 
 trying. 
 
 To-day our march was from Ram pore to Gowrah, about eleven 
 miles, up and down very steep hills, the track being partly cut into 
 steps forming almost perpendicular stairs, very fatiguing to climb. 
 We crossed sundry very pretty streams, and, as usual, passed 
 through different belts of vegetation, varying with our altitude. 
 Sometimes in the gloom of dark, pine-scented forests — then at 
 some very low level, overshadowed by rich hard-wood. One 
 variety of fragrant acacia especially delighted us, with its large 
 blossoms like great bunches of floss silk. 
 
 On reaching the brow of the hill a glorious view opened before 
 us, a foreground of rich foliage whence we looked down through 
 deep masses of forest, far into the valley, where we caught glimpses 
 of the river, beyond which rose tier above tier of great hills; and 
 above all, a whole line of snow-peaks and rock pinnacles. 
 
 Oh ! the delight of choosing the very spot, overlooking such 
 a scene, where you may pitch your own dear little tent— 
 knowing that in three minutes your home will be homelike. No 
 bare walls of a ghoulish bungalow, perhaps still reeking with the 
 tobacco of the last occupants, or full of buzzing flies attracted by 
 their good cheer, but all your own cosy arrangements of rugs and 
 boxes ; and above all, the delight of having chosen your own pet 
 
 A A 
 
354 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 nook, and the very best angle for your tent door, so as to see 
 least of your own species, and most of the glorious scenery around 
 you. Verily there is no such music as the hammering of your 
 tent-pegs—the earnest of having secured a pleasant resting-place 
 on totally new ground, where you may halt for exactly so long as 
 you please, and then strike once more, to seek “ Fresh woods and 
 pastures new.” 
 
 Of all pleasant camping-grounds I enjoyed none better than 
 Gowrah ; camped on the farthest angle of a little promontory, 
 projecting into the valley, so as to look down on three sides into 
 the deep gorge, or up a dark solitary chasm between bold, 
 precipitous rocks, and there to sit alone, 
 
 “ Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high, 
 
 Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown 
 Mingle their echoes with the eagle’s cry.” 
 
 It only needs the shadow of murky vapours, and of dark 
 thunder-clouds, such as are sure to rise ere long, and you get a 
 touch of awe which gives the finishing stroke of delight. Then the 
 sun will set, lurid and gloomy, throwing a warning, blood-red glow 
 over the mountain-tops, and lighting up the dark, troubled sky, 
 while the low rumbling of stormy voices suggests the awakening of 
 all weird spirits. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE SACRED ARK. 
 
 Wild Apricots—“So Near and yet so Far”—Frugal Flighlanders—Spoilt 
 Milk !—Spinning—Sunwise Turns—The Ark of the Mountain Goddess— 
 Sacrifices—Links to Judea—And to Abyssinia—Other Cars—Willows and 
 Water-cresses—A Hateful Forced March—Sir Alexander Lawrence— 
 Cholera—Able-bodied Women—Forest of Poindah. 
 
 At about this point we entered the region of wild apricot trees, 
 which are scattered all over the steep hill-sides, and which were 
 now laden with fruit, the golden crop attracting flocks of green 
 pigeons. In the absence of more exciting game, these offered an 
 irresistible target, and moreover proved excellent eating, as did 
 also some chickore , the red-legged partridge ; so with apricot tart, 
 and wild apricots and raspberries for dessert, we dined as kings. 
 The apricots, however, proved too much for poor blue-eyed 
 Nanko the shikaree, who suffered so frightfully from unrequited 
 attachment to unripe “plums,” as he called them, that he utterly 
 lost heart, and literally never smiled again. He, who had been 
 the most zealous and energetic of the party, became so utterly 
 wretched that he was allowed to return alone to the bosom of his 
 family, beyond Simla, where he found consolation, and in due 
 time rallied in health and spirits. I fear the poor fellow had been 
 subjected to a good deal of “ chaff,” and chaff under such 
 circumstances is apt to go against the grain ! 
 
 At this place we came in for the only instance of dishonesty we 
 ever heard of amongst these Paharis, whose general character in 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 these matters is irreproachable, “ Honest as a Pahari ” being a 
 proverbial expression. 1 In fact, theft is almost unknown, and 
 these men carry treasures, which to them would be priceless, for 
 days and days, along wild mountain tracks, whence at any moment 
 they might diverge, and never be traced. Even money is safely 
 entrusted to them, and is invariably delivered into the right 
 hands, though they are as ready as their neighbours to haggle for 
 a few pence in all their bargains. 
 
 The temptation which on this day proved too much for even 
 Pahari honesty, was a wretched sheep in which we had invested, 
 and on which our dinners for a couple of days depended. The 
 sheep was duly tethered in a place of safety, whence, however, it 
 shortly disappeared. ■ Great was the hue and cry ; great was the 
 righteous indignation of the chokedar , who nevertheless was proved 
 to be himself either the thief or the instigator of the theft. From 
 his house was our unlucky mutton rescued, and the crestfallen 
 expression of the whole man when thus detected was pitiful to 
 behold. It was a dear sheep to him, as he was of course dismissed 
 from a position of such trust. 
 
 For a chokedar is a sort of policeman who has charge of these 
 bungalows, and is bound to provide coolies and any provisions 
 that travellers may require, the general demand being for sheep, 
 which the people are most unwilling to sell, though the full value 
 is always given. But the people hate selling anything, however 
 high the price offered. 
 
 A new feature of the hills here is that little shelves of table¬ 
 land occur every here and there, on each of which is perched a 
 village surrounded with terraced fields. Sometimes six or eight 
 such villages are in sight at once, clustering all down the face of 
 the hill; and the natives, when they want the men from some 
 other village, instead of toiling up one khad and down another 
 in search of them, stand at their own doors, and call their friends, 
 
 1 This was somewhat dubiously expressed by a native, whose English was 
 not altogether faultless, when called upon to give evidence in favour of a man 
 accused of dishonesty. “ Sir,” said he, “ I have known the accused for years, 
 and am prepared to swear that his character is unbleachable ! ” 
 
FRUGAL HIGHLANDERS. 
 
 357 
 
 with a shrill intonation that seems to travel for miles, and you 
 hear the voices echoing among the distant hills. Then the owner 
 of the curious name, the Himalayan Donald or Ronald, responds 
 in a shout which reaches you, mellowed by distance, and explains 
 why he cannot come. So then Hugh or Ian are summoned, and 
 these, having put a couple of large bannocks into their string bag, 
 that they may be ready for all emergencies, start from the home, 
 from which they may perhaps be absent for many days. 
 
 Perhaps, in addition to the bannocks, they will take with them 
 an extra plaid and an extra supply of tobacco, and then they are 
 ready for whatever may happen. This is all the provision they 
 make for the longest march, for they are wonderfully frugal and 
 abstemious—just like those old Highlanders who scorned the 
 degenerate rising generation, when first it introduced the custom 
 of taking a light breakfast of oatmeal before starting for the chase, 
 and so necessitated the invention of new terms for the great and 
 little meal, instead of the old word Lon , which was the only 
 genuine Plighland word for the daily meal. These men are 
 almost invariably short and well knit; they are strong and hardy, 
 game for any amount of work and fatigue, on what would seem to 
 us starvation diet. 
 
 It has been noticed that this good qualification for a soldier is 
 utterly wasted when hill regiments are raised from these tribes, as 
 they are at once provided with the same luxuries as other troops, 
 consequently there is the same necessity for a baggage train when 
 on active service, a soldier’s bedding and other gear being a fair 
 load for a coolie. Think how astonished an agricultural Pahari 
 must be to see his military brother thus equipped ! 
 
 These Highlanders are sometimes very slack in keeping up 
 distinctions of caste. They will constantly, as a matter of ex¬ 
 pediency, and for the good of trade, eat with the merchants from 
 Tartary and Thibet. They will even sometimes accept a biscuit 
 offered them by Englishmen, and are generally willing to share 
 their meals one with another, provided they are not cooked with 
 water. Hence each man must make his own bread ; but should 
 game be killed, they will roast it, and have no objection to 
 
35S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 sharing that, or fruit or dried grain. I fancy this distinction must 
 exist also in the plains, as I have seen a high caste Brahman accept 
 fruit from my hand, though I dared not offer a child a sugar-plum 
 or a biscuit. 
 
 The Paharis are, however, by no means wholly free from the 
 shackles of caste. One day a whole regiment of wretched-looking 
 coolies came to us in great turmoil, declaring that they had proved 
 Ratna, our head servant, to be the son of a cobbler, which is a 
 very low caste, and that as he stood between them and the sun 
 his shadow had fallen on their milk, and so they had been com¬ 
 pelled to throw it away. Poor Ratna could not deny the foul 
 impeachment, but meekly declared his willingness to pay for more 
 milk and to remove his noxious shadow, and so the matter ended. 
 In other matters the coolies fully recognized his authority as 
 bear-leader, and were quite willing to honour him with the title 
 of Gee. 
 
 These cobblers, or shoemakers, are treated almost as slaves by 
 the villagers; they, and still lower castes, called Domes and 
 Mehters, being compelled to do all the work, even to cultivating 
 the land ; and as they may have no land of their own, they only 
 receive food in return for service done. Much of the farm work 
 is done by women, while the men look after the cattle and spin. 
 Every man you meet is invariably spinning. They work very 
 slowly, but incessantly, carrying a bundle of loose, short wool in 
 the breast of their blouse ; a bit of stick does the work of a distaff, 
 and so they prepare endless supplies of yarn, which they will 
 afterwards weave into sonsy “ home-spun ” raiment. 
 
 I cannot say that this sort of spinning has the charm of our 
 own old wheel, which, whether in cottage or in hall, in the hands 
 of a grey-haired granny or of a beautiful and high-bred dame, 
 certainly lends its aid in composing the most attractive of all 
 home scenes, with its low humming murmur, winding on and on 
 like some continuous old crooning song; soothing you into a 
 delicious, dreamy, idleness, while you watch the play of the red 
 firelight among its pleasant lines and curves. 
 
 This, however, is locomotive spinning, which allows of no idle 
 
SUNWISE TURNS. 
 
 359 
 
 hands. The coolie who waits for hours at your door, draws his 
 distaff from his bosom, and lies in the sunshine at his work, and 
 he who plods along the well-known road will, if not overburdened, 
 spin half a hank before reaching the next village. Sheep-shearing 
 occurs thrice a year, so the spinners must be diligent to keep pace 
 with the supply. 
 
 One very curious custom prevails among these shepherds, which 
 reminded us of the strange old Highland ceremony of the turn 
 Deisul, or Sunwise, round ’all manner of objects, partly for luck, 
 partly as a lingering trace of the sun-worship of our ancestors. 1 
 Here the villagers occasionally collect all their flocks into one 
 great herd, and, walking at its head, lead it slowly round 
 the village, following the course of the sun. They gradually 
 quicken the pace to a run, and so go thrice or oftener right round 
 the village. 
 
 The same turn sunwise occurs in various other instances. Thus 
 in case of sickness or accident, sheep and goats are solemnly led 
 twice or thrice round the sufferer, and then have their heads cut 
 off In the case of a rich man, many are thus sacrificed to divers 
 demons, who are suspected of having enviously caused the 
 mischief. Should the man recover, it is supposed that the demon 
 has been propitiated ; but should he die, it is said that doubtless 
 the Almighty, who over-rules all lesser powers, has so willed it. 
 To them this Great Spirit is a Being of infinite terror, to be served 
 with exceeding fear ; a mighty power that will send all manner of 
 famine and disease, unless they are for ever striving to appease 
 Him. As to anything in their faith that can gladden life—any¬ 
 thing like love, or companionship, or daily help, that is utterly 
 unknown, and quite incomprehensible. 
 
 Nevertheless they say the God of gods requires no sacrifice— 
 only worship. Their sacrifices, therefore, are offered to the lesser 
 gods and demons ; sometimes merely offerings of sweetmeats and 
 such delicacies, or even flowers. This notion of propitiating evil 
 spirits, is, however, by no means peculiar to the hill tribes, for the 
 
 1 See In the Hebrides, C. F. Gordon Cumming, pages 241-245. Chattoand 
 Windus. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 360 
 
 whole Hindoo race are from their cradles to their graves haunted 
 by the fear of demons—malignant beings who ever find pleasure 
 in doing them harm, causing illness and trouble—loss and 
 disaster. 
 
 These demons are assorted in numerous classes, concerning 
 whom stories innumerable are told. Some are dwarfish monsters 
 —some are tall as palm-trees. A horrid kind are the man-eating 
 Rakshasas, who keep their souls in parrots, and who are so bold 
 that they even dare to disturb holy rite's and harass saints. 
 
 Then there are the Bhutas, the spirits of men who have been 
 eaten by tigers, or have died a violent death from any cause, and 
 have not received proper funeral rites. There are also Pisaea 
 demons, who are embodied ghosts of very wicked men, and Pretas, 
 who are restless spirits of cripples or deformed persons, sufferers 
 during life and after death; no wonder that such spirits should be 
 malignant, ever on the watch to do evil, and woe betide the man 
 who yawns and neglects to cover his mouth, or snap his fingers— 
 a watchful spirit may dart down his throat, and thenceforth 
 establish himself within, feeding on the food swallowed by the 
 man. A demon specially dreaded by women is the spirit of a 
 woman who has died within fifteen days after childbirth, for her 
 special joy is to attack all young mothers. 
 
 There are, however, some points of especial interest in the 
 worship of these mountain tribes. Some of their sacrifices are 
 most solemn, and suggestive of old patriarchal days. The people 
 assemble in the dark cedar forest, and set up an altar of unhewn 
 stones, w'hereon fire is kindled, and sheep and goats are offered for 
 a burnt-offering. 
 
 In spite of their belief in the thirty-three millions of good and 
 evil spirits, their worship seems to be not so much directed to 
 general deities as to the special god of each village, to whom is 
 dedicated a picturesque temple of cedar-wood, somewhat resem¬ 
 bling a Swiss chalet, and enriched with a good deal of ornamental 
 wood-carving. Within this temple there is a draped shrine, form¬ 
 ing a sort of ark, wherein dwells a veiled image of the Devi, or 
 goddess. This ark is, fastened to long poles and is carried out in 
 
THE SACRED ARK. 
 
 361 
 
 state for a daily airing. In front of the temple there is a circular 
 platform, in the centre of which stands a sort of summer-house 
 (simply a cedar-wood roof, supported by pillars of the same). 
 Beneath this shelter, which is called a Dharmsalah, the ark is 
 deposited, while the worshippers circle around, dancing or making 
 music. 
 
 Once a year, about the middle of July, this mysterious veiled 
 goddess is carried in most solemn procession, when all the people 
 of the village assemble, and dance before the ark, from the greatest 
 man to the least. Above this tabernacle, which is draped with 
 hangings of some bright material, is generally set a brazen head, 
 having four or more faces, above which nod huge plumes of dark 
 or scarlet wool; they are yaks’ tails, such as are used on the plains 
 to brush away flies from the presence of great men. Sometimes 
 other faces of polished metal are set all round the tabernacle, and 
 glance in the sun as the procession moves on. Generally a deep 
 fringe of silky, white yaks’ tails hangs all round, reaching almost to 
 the ground, effectually concealing the bodies of the men who carry 
 the goddess, so that she seems to be stalking along, like some 
 hideous centipede, with black legs; (an effect, by the way, which 
 constantly occurs to you as a string of grass-cutters comes along a 
 road, each presenting the curious appearance of an immense load 
 of grass moving on two lean black legs). 
 
 The ark is escorted by attendants waving chowries, to keep off 
 the flies, and musicians who produce a hideous din by the aid of 
 very large trumpets, four or five feet in length, some straight 
 and some curved, but all alike torturing to the ear! Though 
 there is no Brahmanical priesthood here, each village has a set of 
 people devoted to the service of the temple. The men must 
 beat a reveille at dawn in honour of the gods, and to waken the 
 villagers, and in the evening the same sound of unmusical shells, 
 bells, and cymbals, acts as a combination of curfew and evensong. 
 Although these people only think it necessary to wash themselves 
 and their clothes twice a year in honour of their principal festivals, 
 the goddess must be washed and dressed daily in water scented 
 with leaves of wild mint, which grows near the well, and is 
 
362 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 gathered as a daily offering; incense also is burnt before the 
 Devi. 
 
 Some of the more solemn festivals are made the occasion of 
 immense gatherings of all the tribes. Each village sends forth its 
 ark, accompanied by all the women and most of the men, dressed 
 in their gayest holiday suit, and covered with all their jewels, so it 
 is a very bright and festive gathering. They sing and dance as 
 they go, and play all manner of antics. The ark is carried by 
 specially appointed men, the leader walking backwards to avoid 
 
 DEVI AT CIIEENEE,. SUTI.EJ VALLEV. 
 
 turning his buck to the goddess. I do not think any of the othei 
 worshippers ever touch it; certainly they would on no account 
 have allowed us to do so, or to obtain even a glimpse of the 
 veiled presence within the curtains, though these, being sometimes 
 blown aside by the breeze, might otherwise have revealed some 
 hint of the beauties of Durga Parvati, she being the pet goddess in 
 these hills. 
 
 They call this tabernacle of their god a Khuda. As they carry 
 it along up the hills and through the forests, all present must 
 
DANCING ROUND THE ARK. 
 
 363 
 
 dance and sing. Probably the forest sanctuary whither they 
 are bound is one of those temples of rudely carved cedar-wood, 
 which we so constantly see, beneath any remarkably fine group of 
 trees ; for 
 
 “ The simple savage, whose untutored mind 
 
 Sees God in cloud, and hears Him in the wind,” 
 
 believes that such fair trees are His chosen dwelling-place ; so they 
 are spoken of as “ the trees of God,” and wherever a little temple 
 shows that the spot is held sacred by the Paharis, the Government 
 officers who have charge of the forests are bound to respect that 
 place, and the stately timbers are spared from the ruthless axe, 
 which else would have turned them all into railway sleepers. So 
 all we, who love these glorious monarchs of the forest, have good 
 cause to rejoice over the reverence which protects these choice 
 cedar trees, “ the trees of the Lord, even the cedars which He hath 
 planted.” 
 
 Near this little temple there is generally a space artificially 
 levelled, perhaps paved. Here the Khuda is laid down. Perhaps 
 other villagers have assembled, bringing their Khudas, and all the 
 people rejoice greatly, and for, perhaps, three days, they keep up 
 their sacred mirth ; and the sellers of grain make rather a good 
 thing of it, for they set up their little white tents and booths and 
 provide divers refreshments for the hungry dancers. Every now 
 and then the Khuda is lifted from the ground, and carried in a 
 little circle, sunwise, while the huge plumes wave and shake, keep¬ 
 ing time to the rude music; and an outer circle of men, joining 
 hands, dance a wild dance, all keeping step. Then the idol is 
 once more deposited, and all the people make obeisance, while the 
 dance continues; and the women, linked in one long undulating 
 chain, go on circling round the Khuda, strange to say, moving 
 with their left hand toward the centre, consequently making a 
 contra-sunwise turn. 
 
 They are linked together with one arm ; each woman, clasping 
 her neighbour by the waist, keeps the other arm free, and there¬ 
 with, as she bows to the Khuda, she waves a plume-like chowrie 
 or yak’s tail; not all waving together, but in rapid succession, so 
 
364 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS, 
 
 that the wave of motion never ceases, but rolls for ever and for 
 ever with singularly graceful action. When one woman is tired, 
 another slips into her place; sometimes the men form the circle, 
 then both men and women join, and keep up the same winding 
 and turning, circling round and round. And when night comes, 
 great fires are lighted and torches of pine wood, and still the wild 
 dance goes on, and the incessant monotonous music of tom-toms 
 and great trumpet shells ( sankhs ) and other discordant instru¬ 
 ments never ceases, as you will have good cause to know, should 
 your camp be pitched too near these sacred revels. 
 
 At length, when their energies are exhausted, the meeting 
 breaks up, the annual festival is over, and each group of villagers 
 carries their patron goddess back to her own temple, while the 
 rest of the congregation disperses in little groups along every path, 
 up hill and down dale. 
 
 A ceremony so strange, naturally sets one wondering what it 
 all means, and how it all originated ; various suggestions have 
 been made as to the possibility that some tradition may have 
 reached even these remote hills of that Sacred Ark whereby the 
 Hebrews were taught to realize the actual Presence of the Most 
 High. 
 
 That some legends of a remote past still linger in these 
 mountains is well known, as for instance that tradition of the 
 Deluge which tells how Manu and the Seven Sages built them a 
 mighty ship, wherein were stored seed of all living things, and how 
 Brahma, taking the form of a great fish (in whose honour, it may 
 be, that so many fish are still held sacred, and preserved in all the 
 tanks), rescued this ship, when the Great Deluge came and over¬ 
 whelmed the earth. And Brahma drew the ship for many days, 
 till at length it rested on one high peak of the Himalayas, to which 
 he bound the vessel. And the mountain has ever since borne the 
 name of Naubandhana , which means the fastening of the boat. 
 Which peak bears this name, the people themselves do not know, 
 but this is their legend; it is, however, one which they hold in 
 common with many other nations, and need prove no connection 
 with Judea. 
 
JEWISH FEATURES. 
 
 365 
 
 It would certainly be deeply interesting to know if any such 
 connection had at any time existed. Some have even fancied 
 that they might here find traces of the lost tribes of Israel, and 
 have pointed out various other resemblances between the simple, 
 primitive religious ceremonies of these people and those of the 
 old patriarchs. 
 
 I believe the first person who called attention to these remark¬ 
 able Arkite ceremonies was my friend Mr. William Simpson, who 
 spent a couple of months at the village of Cheenee, in this 
 
 KHUDA OF A POOR VILLAGE. 
 
 valley, closely observing the manners and customs of his neigh¬ 
 bours, and reproducing all these striking scenes in admirable 
 water-colour sketches. To him I am indebted for the accompany¬ 
 ing illustrations of the Khuda and prayer-wheels (I may remark, 
 that when I visited Cheenee the Khuda had been enriched by 
 offerings of so many yaks’ tails as to form a fringe sweeping the 
 ground). 
 
 He was vividly impressed by the strongly defined Jewish type of 
 countenance, so common among these people. Still more was he 
 struck by the strange similarity of their heathen worship with 
 certain parts of the old Jewish ceremonial. “Here,” he says, 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 366 
 
 “are a people, scarcely one of whom had ever been a dozen 
 miles from their own village. It was almost impossible for a 
 single idea from the outer world to reach them. Yet they had 
 been practising the most ancient rites of rvorship, which must 
 have remained shut up and unaltered in that wild valley for ages.” 
 
 He goes on to tell how the people, having indulged in the rare 
 luxury of a good (ceremonial) washing a few days previously, had 
 assembled at the village of Coat! to do homage to the strange 
 mysterious Khuda ; that many-headed goddess whose faces only 
 appear above the covered box, or ark, or tabernacle, the veil from 
 which is never withdrawn, and which no stranger is allowed to 
 touch. Only, as we have already observed, her devout worship¬ 
 pers are honoured by being allowed to carry this ark by turns, by 
 means of long poles attached to it, and one must walk backward 
 so that both may face her holiness. 
 
 Thus borne, and escorted by all the great men of the village, 
 dancing before this their goddess, to the tune of drums, trumpets, 
 cymbals, and horns, her procession came winding through the 
 primeval forest, and through deep, dark glens, till they reached 
 a temple, standing alone near some grand old cedars. In front 
 of this was a roughly paved court, precisely similar to the 
 threshing-floors in common use. Here they deposited their ark 
 in front of the temple of carved cedar wood. A village patriarch 
 with strikingly Jewish features, who officiated as priest, and wore 
 a red robe like those of the Lamas in this district, washed all the 
 faces of the goddess with mint leaves and water, then he offered 
 incense, flowers, fruit, and bread. 
 
 As my personal acquaintance with the Khuda was limited to 
 its ordinary processions, and I was never present at one of these 
 sacrifices, I must give you Mr. Simpson’s most interesting de¬ 
 scription of this in his own words. He says : “ A number of 
 playful young kids were now brought forward, and Dilloo, the 
 patriarch, sprinkled them with water. A large flat brazen dish 
 was placed on the ground, and one of the villagers stood ready 
 with an ornamental sacred hatchet belonging to the temple. 
 With one blow he struck off the head of the kid ; then the priest’s 
 
THE WALNUT FESTIVAL. 
 
 367 
 
 assistant raised the head, and advancing to the Khuda presented 
 it, muttering certain words. He put his fitiger into the blood, and 
 then by a jerk jlicked it upon the idol. Thus the blood was 
 * sprinkled.’ After doing this once or twice, he dipped his fore- 
 jinger into the blood and touched the Khuda -with it. The head 
 was then deposited with the other offerings. Meanwhile the body 
 of the kid had been so placed that all the blood ran into the 
 brazen vessel, and when two or three animals had been sacrificed 
 and the dish was full, one of the men lifted it up, and, first 
 
 DILl.OO, A MOUNTAIN PATRIARCH 
 
 presenting it to the Khuda, turned round, and giving a great 
 swing of his body, emptied the blood against the whitewashed wall 
 of the temple. This ceremony was thrice repeated.” 1 
 
 A curious sort of game was now played, whence the festival 
 takes its name, the Akrot-ka-pooja, or Walnut Festival. The 
 priest and a few companions having ascended to a balcony in the 
 temple, all the young men present assailed them with volleys 
 of walnuts and green pine-cones ; these the men on the balcony 
 gathered up, and threw back at their assailants. This quaint 
 
 1 Compare Exodus xxix. 12, 16. 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 368 
 
 fight lasted half an hour, when the besieged descended, and once 
 more mixed with the throng. Mr. Simpson failed to ascertain 
 the meaning of this ceremony, but alludes to the frequent occur¬ 
 rence of the pine-cone as a religious emblem in the Assyrian 
 sculptures, and to its ornamental use in Cashmere and throughout 
 India and Central Asia. 
 
 It is doubtless due to this symbolic sanctity of the cone, wherein 
 lie cradled the germs of life, that some special idea of reverence 
 seems attached to so many of the coniferous tribe, as we may 
 gather from many of the native names for divers kinds of fir trees. 
 
 Thus, the Abies Morinda, that weeping fir, whose long pensile 
 branches are laden with narrow cones, sometimes six inches in 
 length, is here called the Khudrow, a name signifying, in the 
 native dialect, “ sacred tears,” in reference to the resinous drops 
 which exude from the cones and bark, and which are made into 
 cakes as offerings for the gods. The name is of course derived 
 from the same source as Khuda. 
 
 Of the Indian Silver Fir, known to botanists as Picea Webbiana, 
 both wood and cones are, or were, used by preference in the 
 offering of burnt-sacrifice. Its cones are long and narrow 
 varying from four to six inches in length, and are of a purply- 
 green colour. 
 
 As to the Sacred Cedar, the Deodar (or, as it is called by the 
 natives, and in the sacred Shastras—Devadara or Devadaru), its 
 name, whether derived from the Sanskrit Deva or the Latin Deus , 
 alike describes the stately cedars as emphatically the Trees of 
 God. The second syllable, variously rendered as Da or Do— 
 Dara—Daru, may be translated, the gift—the spouse—the wood, 
 but all alike denote the sanctity of the tree. 
 
 While the young men and priests were engaged in pelting one 
 another with these sacred cones and walnuts, the slaughtered 
 kids were being cooked, ready for the solemn feast which followed. 
 Then “the people having seated themselves all round upon the 
 space before the Khuda, the cakes and flesh were dealt out to 
 them and eaten. The women were helped before the men , which 
 is altogether foreign to Eastern custom.” 
 
ARKITE CEREMONIES. 
 
 369 
 
 Just as the people were preparing to return home, the Khuda 
 commenced shaking violently, and in some mysterious manner, and 
 so intimated its intention of visiting the neighbouring village of 
 Cheenee. It was at once obeyed. The people recommenced 
 singing and dancing with all their might, and were in a state of 
 wild excitement. The trumpets sounded, the tomtoms were 
 beaten, and the strange procession went on its way through the 
 dark forest. Some of the men ran on before to give warning to 
 the authorities of the honour in store for them. So at the confines 
 of the village of Cheenee, the rival goddess was waiting with her 
 trumpets and drums to receive her guest with all due honour. 
 The two Khudas spent a night together, after which the lady of 
 Coati returned to take care of her own dominions. 
 
 Now turn to the description of a very different scene; a scene 
 nevertheless which has points of resemblance so strange as surely 
 to imply some traditional link in far bygone times. It is a story 
 of Judea, of the return of that “ Ark of God which dwelleth within 
 curtains,” that Holy Place within the vail, into which even the 
 high priest might enter but once a year, with the offering of 
 sweet incense, and the blood of atonement, wherewith to sprinkle 
 the mercy seat. 
 
 The king and thirty thousand of his men had gone to fetch the 
 ark, to bring it to the city of David, and they set the Ark of God 
 upon a new cart. And David and all the house of Israel accom¬ 
 panied the ark. And they played before God with all their 
 might, on all manner of instruments, made of fir-wood ; even on 
 harps, and on psalteries, and on timbrels, and on cornets, and on 
 cymbals, and with singing, and with trumpets. But, ere long, the 
 oxen stumbled, and Uzzah put forth his hand to hold the ark. 
 And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God 
 smote him there for his error, because he put his hand to the ark, 
 and there he died before God. Then David was afraid to bring 
 the terrible ark to his city. 
 
 But after three months he took courage, and remembered that 
 “ none ought to carry the Ark of God but the Levites, for them 
 hath the Lord chosen to carry it,” so he called the priests and 
 
 B B 
 
3/0 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 told them, that because they had not sought God after due order, 
 therefore He had made this breach upon them. So they sanctified 
 themselves, and carried the ark upon their shoulders, with the 
 staves thereon. And with them were a great company singing, 
 and playing on instruments of music. And David danced before 
 the Lord with all his might. So he and all the house of Israel 
 brought up the Ark of the Lord with shouting and with the voice 
 of the trumpet. “ And they brought in the Ark of the Lord, 
 and set it in his place, in the midst of the tabernacle that David 
 had pitched for it, and David offered burnt-offerings and peace- 
 offerings before the Lord. . . . And he dealt among all the 
 
 people, even among the whole multitude of Israel, as well to the 
 women as men , to every one a cake of bread and a good piece of 
 flesh.” Then all the people returned, every man to his own house. 1 
 
 I think we must admit that the trumpery, tawdry ark, wherein 
 the poor Pahari reverences a presence, which he desires to honour, 
 has, to say the least of it, some curious affinities to that glorious 
 Tabernacle of the Israelites. Even the coincidence in size is 
 very remarkable, the measurement of the holy ark being generally 
 reckoned at two and a-half feet in width and height, while the 
 length was something under four feet. The proportions of the 
 Khuda are slightly variable, being probably decided by rule of 
 thumb, still they approximate roughly to the above. 
 
 The name of this Himalayan ark and some of the ceremonies 
 connected with it are also singularly suggestive of certain customs 
 in that strange Abyssinian Church which still continues to blend 
 some trace of Jewish tradition with its Christian ritual. The 
 priests have a legend which tells that when Menelik, son of the 
 Queen of Sheba, was sent to Palestine for his education, he was 
 on his return accompanied thence by many Jews, in compliance 
 with the advice of King Solomon, a fact which fully accounts for 
 all the Jewish colonies in Abyssinia. Amongst these emigrants 
 were many of the chief priests, who, however, were greatly averse 
 to deprive themselves of the guiding presence of the holy ark. 
 They therefore made one exactly similar, which they contrived to 
 1 2 Sam. vi. 17-19. 
 
THE KHUDA, OR SACRED ARK. 
 
 371 
 
 substitute for the original, and thus were able to carry the real 
 ark to Abyssinia, where it is now concealed in the Church of 
 Axum. none save the primate, or high priest, being allowed 
 to enter that Tabernacle or look on that most holy thing. The 
 Governor of Axum is known by a title signifying “ Keeper of the 
 Ark.” But although this city alone claims possession of the true 
 Ark, each church, like the modern Jewish synagogue, has, within 
 its inner sanctuary, a representation thereof, supported by wooden 
 posts, which have been fashioned without the use of any instru¬ 
 ment of steel or iron. 1 Here the priests consecrate the sacred 
 sacramental elements, and at each division of the service they 
 march three times, sunwise, round the ark, carrying the cross, the 
 book, and the incense. 
 
 This Holy of Holies is hidden from the congregation by a 
 heavy curtain or veil. The part of the church which surrounds 
 this most holy place is called the Kudist, answering to Kodesh, 
 the name by which the Hebrews describe the sanctuary, while the 
 title Kudosh, or holy, is uttered before the name of any Christian 
 saint. Moreover in the Mohammedan catalogue of the ninety- 
 nine titles of the Almighty we find Kuddus, the Holy One. So 
 the Himalayan Khuda shows its origin pretty plainly by its title 
 and its affinities. 
 
 Its existence, however, is not confined to these regions. When 
 Mr. Simpson, who first called attention to these Abyssinian arks, 
 pursued his travels into Japan, he there also found small arks 
 carried on staves, in religious processions, and I have myself seen 
 them used in Ceylon both by Buddhists and Tamils. The former 
 thus carried a small ark containing only a golden lotus blossom. 
 The latter, at Ratnapoora, and probably elsewhere, have a full- 
 sized ark, wherein, on great festivals, are deposited the sacred 
 arrows of Rama, which are brought forth from an inner sanctuary, 
 and closely veiled from the curious gaze by heavy curtains, while, 
 
 1 In all Celtic superstitions it was believed that the touch of steel or iron 
 deprived sacred plants of all mystic virtue. In Rome also a statute of the 
 Twelve Tables commanded that the funeral pyre should be built of wood 
 untouched by the axe. 
 
 B B 2 
 
372 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 mid music and dancing, the ark is borne on staves, and the car of 
 Jagannath is dragged round the precincts of the Temple, as it is 
 in many an Indian village. 
 
 Having made the most of a day’s halt at Gowrah we again 
 pushed on, up and down the steepest of braes, sometimes crossing 
 streams clear as crystal, overshadowed by the exquisite acacia with 
 blossoms like pink and white floss silk. The wild apricot-trees 
 were loaded with fruit, and mulberry, walnut, and pear-trees all 
 gave promise of an abundant crop. The people were busy 
 harvesting in the tiny, narrow ridges, sometimes not four feet wide, 
 which act as fields, even these being artificially levelled all down 
 the hill-side. The reapers cut the heads off the grain and burn 
 the straw as it stands, to enrich the land ; straw, remember, which 
 stands six or eight feet, the size of the ear being in proportion. 
 The heads they carry home, and throwing them on the flat roofs 
 of their houses, or on a threshing-floor, they beat out the grain, 
 and shaking it against the wind, winnow the grain from the chaff. 
 (Just so did our Anglo-Saxon forefathers nearly two thousand 
 years ago, according to an old Sicilian historian, 1 who, writing a 
 hundred years before Christ, described the mode of gathering the 
 harvest in Britain, when the reapers cut off the ears of corn and 
 carried them home, to be stored in underground granaries.) I 
 generally saw women at this work, sometimes very handsome 
 girls, whose well-shaped bare arms were clasped by large silver 
 armlets, and their wrists covered with bracelets, their ankles and 
 their toes being likewise adorned. 
 
 This night our halt was at Serahan, where we found a house so 
 large and so comfortable that we had no excuse for putting up the 
 tents. An excellent garden supplied us with abundant vegetables 
 of all sorts, even to artichokes. Close to the house rises the 
 brightest of crystal springs, overshadowed by weeping-willows, 
 and the clear stream which flows thence is full of the most 
 delicious watercresses. These were found in divers streams 
 along the route. The natives did not seem to know their 
 excellence, and looked rather astonished at our gathering them, 
 
 1 Diodorus Siculus. 
 
A HIMALAYAN BELLE. 373 
 
 but they soon tried the experiment for themselves with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 With unspeakable pleasure we rested beneath the shade of 
 those beautiful drooping willows, nibbling the fresh green cresses, 
 or drinking from the clear bubbling spring just for love of its 
 beauty. Some months later, on a dull grey day in Edinburgh, I 
 alluded to this Himalayan paradise, and a lady, 1 then unknown 
 to me, replied that she knew it well, for she had lived in that 
 bungalow for months while her husband was employed in engineer¬ 
 ing the road, and that she herself had planted both the willows 
 and the watercresses. I think her name ought to be inscribed 
 in letters of gold beside the fountain, that all future travellers in 
 these wilds may bless it ! 
 
 Just above this bungalow stands the summer palace of the 
 Rajah of Bassahir, whose winter quarters we had seen on the 
 cliff at Rampore. He intimated his intention of honouring us 
 with a visit, but fortunately for us, was too drunk to do so. The 
 situation of his palace is beautiful, as is that of all the grounds 
 hereabouts. A beautiful mixture of grey rock, terraced fields, 
 and dark foliage (horse-chestnuts, I think) extending far down 
 the steep hill-side to the brink of the river, while right overhead 
 the grand snow line towers far above the clouds, its gleaming 
 white broken by quaint pinnacles of black rock. The tiny 
 villages on the hill-side seem numberless and very picturesque; 
 the houses are a good deal like Swiss chalets. 
 
 Groups of lads and lassies in holiday attire, were assembling 
 from all these, and making for one point on the hill-side, where 
 some festivity was going on, which was kept up all night long, for 
 the music and dancing never ceased. One very handsome woman, 
 whose dress was of unusually rich colours, and the weight of her 
 jewels startling, came and fraternised with us, showing us her finery 
 with a very pretty half-bashful manner. From her nose to her 
 toes she was covered with ornaments. I regret to say that her 
 toes were not adorned with bells, only with rings. As to her ears, 
 she must have had fully a dozen rings in each. Her dress and 
 1 Mrs. Houchin. 
 
374 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 plaid were, as usual, of striped wool, very heavy, and of brilliant 
 colours. The heavy fold at the back was precisely the pannier 
 then in fashion in London, and the large chignon differed only from 
 that of our dames in that, instead of being made of some convict’s 
 hair, it was of scarlet wool—a foil to the silkiest black hair and 
 clear olive complexion. Of course she wore the invariable plaits 
 of black worsted hanging down her back like false plaits attached 
 to the scarlet chignon, and on her head the usual round woollen 
 hat, with scarlet top, and a bunch of sweet yellow roses stuck in 
 coquettishly in front. 
 
 No one was more delighted with beautiful Serahan than our 
 excellent dhobie, who here found such facilities for his laundry 
 work as rarely fell to his lot. Imagine the feelings of a British 
 laundry-maid at being turned adrift on these hills with a large 
 washing to do, when and how she could, in any stream she came 
 to. Then having to bundle up her wet heavy linen and get it 
 dried and ironed as best she might, marching twelve or fourteen 
 miles between each process ! 
 
 So the dhobie, like ourselves, rejoiced in being at rest in pleasant 
 quarters, and would fain have lingered for many days. Imagine, 
 therefore, his dismay and ours, when a detestable baboo, who was 
 himself hurrying on to a farther point, and who had received 
 orders to make himself generally useful to us, came up, and in 
 most fluent English poured forth a stream of eloquence, to prove 
 what frightful danger we should incur by halting many hours 
 at the next point, namely Tranda, where cholera was raging, and 
 the people were dying “like rotten sheep,” as'the saying is; that, 
 therefore, we must arrive there late one evening, and leave again 
 at daybreak. This might have been excellent advice for a future 
 day; but he pointed out such difficulties that would attend our 
 attempt to get coolies there without his valuable assistance—in 
 fact, the impossibility of our doing so—and he was altogether so 
 determined that we should push on at once, that in a weak 
 moment (oh, how weak !) we gave in. 
 
 Again the poor dhobie bundled up his half-washed goods; 
 again we packed our books, our bedding, our divers treasures, and 
 
A SUNDAY MARCH. 
 
 375 
 
 with very heavy hearts turned away from the willows by the water¬ 
 courses—to say nothing of the watercresses—where we had 
 purposed spending so peaceful a Sunday, or rather a Sabbath, ot 
 welcome rest . 1 Already the sun was high in the heavens, and of 
 course all the coolies were scattered all over the fields at their 
 work. However, the baboo would have his way; so he des¬ 
 patched messengers to all the villages, and they were gradually 
 collected. By midday a small detachment of unwilling men had 
 arrived, and were got under weigh, together with half the servants. 
 Then Mrs. Graves and I started; she, with her unflagging energy 
 on foot, I, as usual in the dandie. The march was unusually 
 long, ostensibly fourteen miles, but certainly a good deal more; 
 with perpetual ascents and descents of very steep khads. Cer¬ 
 tainly it was wonderfully lovely, both for mountain views and 
 beauty of foreground. 
 
 We passed the Drali Cliff, where a stone cross marks the scene 
 of a terrible accident. It is the place where Sir Alexander 
 Lawrence was killed. The path, which is now blasted on the 
 face of the precipice, was then in places carried over wooden 
 
 1 It doubtless sounds strange to ears unaccustomed to Indian manners to hear 
 Sunday spoken of by Christians as a suitable day for laundry and other house¬ 
 hold work, and certain old words relative to “thy man-servant, and thy maid¬ 
 servant, and the stranger that is within thy gates,” very naturally suggest 
 themselves. Probably the extreme laxity of Sunday observance among white 
 men and women may in great measure account for its total disregard by their 
 household. In point of fact, the gardeners and the tailors are the only members 
 of an Indian establishment who, as a matter of course, take their Sunday holi¬ 
 day ; and it certainly is a dubious question whether there is much advantage 
 in enforcing an institution which, of course, is now'ise binding on tjie conscience 
 of men who have their own innumerable fasts and festivals to attend to. For 
 instance, while the Mohammedan servants are required to observe Friday, the 
 Hindoos must on Saturday make their offerings to Hanuman, the Monkey- 
 god, while Monday is sacred to Maha-deva, “the Great Lord,” i.e. Siva, 
 whose wife Durga claims the eighth day in every lunar fortnight, when all study 
 is prohibited. 
 
 Moreover, in the matter of day-labourers, such as coolies, whether working 
 for Government or for private individuals, no work means no pay—a very 
 serious consequence of a compulsory (and to them) unmeaning holiday, which 
 is no holyday. 
 
37 
 
 6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 biidges, which lay across frightful chasms. Sir Alexander was 
 
 THE DRALI CI.IFP. 
 
 riding a heavy horse, at rather a quick pace, along this dangerous 
 ground, when one of the biidges gave way, and he was hurled 
 
WEARY! WEARY ! 
 
 377 
 
 down an appalling distance—sheer down to one of the clear 
 streams which flow into the Sutlej. His horse was stopped half¬ 
 way by a projecting rock. It is said that his dog, unable to 
 follow his master, turned back to meet Sir John Lawrence, and 
 so conveyed the first dread that some mischief had befallen his 
 nephew. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon before Captain Graves, having got 
 all the baggage started, was able to overtake us, happily accom¬ 
 panied by one coolie with a kilta of provisions; so at sunset we 
 halted beside a delicious stream, in the greenest ferny dell, with 
 overarching trees, and did most thoroughly enjoy our dinner, as 
 did also a sheep which was marching with us, ready for future 
 use, but which in the meantime proved itself a genuine cannibal, 
 and ate up every scrap of mutton that we could spare. Then on 
 we went again. 
 
 My dandie-bearers had proved a weak lot from the beginning, 
 and I had walked fully half way. A good deal of the path lay 
 along the edge of a precipice, where a false step of either coolie 
 would have sent us down thousands of feet. As the darkness 
 closed in, the men stumbled so that I had to give up the attempt 
 to use the dandie, and we all struggled along on foot in the 
 starlight. Presently the men lighted blazing torches, which are 
 made of bundles of long resinous splinters bound together. 
 Each torch is about three feet long, and burns for nearly half an 
 hour, so that one man can carry such a supply as will last for 
 hours. We passed sundry encampments of wild-looking Paharis 
 and Thibet merchants, whose tents and blazing fires were most 
 picturesque, especially one lot, who were camped beside a clear, 
 beautiful stream. 
 
 The last two miles, up a very sleep hill, seemed interminable ; 
 and it was ten o’clock before we reached Tarandah road bungalow. 
 Oh ! but we were weary, weary, and oh ! how glad to be at rest! 
 Most of the servants and coolies never appeared till ten o’clock the 
 next morning, having yielded to the attractions of the comfortable 
 fires by the way. Happily the cook was not among the de¬ 
 faulters, and with the usual amazing power these men have of 
 
37S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 girding themselves to serve their masters, after the longest march, 
 he rapidly gave us hot tea and other good things. Happily, too, 
 one bundle of bedding had arrived, which we divided, and soon 
 slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. 
 
 As usual I woke with the dawn to see the snow peaks far over¬ 
 head, glowing in the red morning light; and to revel in the 
 fragrant scent of pines that came wafted from the dark cedar 
 forest close by. Everything felt strangely solemn and still. 
 Hardly a breath stirred in the valley, and never a sound, save 
 the deep, hoarse roar of the Sutlej, hidden in the chasm far 
 below. It was a most unusual silence, for generally the voices of 
 the villagers calling to one another from hill to hill make anything 
 but mountain stillness. This strange hush would therefore gene¬ 
 rally have been most welcome. To-day, however, it spoke only 
 of pestilence and death, of a valley decimated by cholera— 
 mysterious and terrible scourge—from which the affrighted vil¬ 
 lagers had fled, no one knew whither ; they and their wives, and 
 their little ones, their flocks and their herds, to seek a refuge in 
 some remote corner of their mountain fastnesses, until the evil 
 hour was past, and the Angel of Death had passed on, weary of 
 lingering where there were none to smite. 
 
 The cholera had been capricious as usual in its selection of 
 victims. Not those homes only which lay low in the valley, in 
 the hot steaming miasma, had yielded their dead, but those in 
 the clear pure air, perched on the edge of such cliffs as ensured 
 their own good drainage, had likewise suffered. And even at 
 this very house, the servant of an Englishman who had but 
 passed through the valley had died within a few hours. It 
 was hard to realise that such danger lurked in so fair a spot, 
 where the bright sunlight glanced so pleasantly on the slopes 
 of vivid green turf, and chequered the cedar shade with such 
 sparkling gleams. Nevertheless, it was the part of wisdom 
 to hurry on, so we watched anxiously for the arrival of the 
 truants. 
 
 Meanwhile a party of merchants from Ladawk came up, 
 terribly dirty, but the women loaded with quaint jewels. They 
 
travellers’ medicines. 
 
 379 
 
 brought with them a poor fellow who had just fallen from a high 
 tree, and was considerably damaged. They wanted dawcu (medi¬ 
 cine), but were well satisfied with a supply of rum, which was 
 all we had to give. It was with some satisfaction that we saw 
 him some days afterwards decidedly on the mend, and knew 
 our treatment had not fevered our patient. Few of these men 
 are above the vanities of dress, and they generally wear some 
 quaint jewel or charm. This poor fellow had a large tuft of 
 peacock’s feathers in his cap, which were all broken and draggled 
 by his fall, giving a most comic-pathetic look to the group as they 
 came up. 
 
 Most of these people have no knowledge whatever of medicine, 
 not even of the medicinal properties of their own herbs. Their 
 one idea is the use of fresh turpentine from the pines as a poul¬ 
 tice, or of cedar oil for skin complaints. Firing, as an English¬ 
 man would fire a horse, is a favourite remedy for all manner of 
 pains. Nevertheless they have a perfect passion for physic of 
 all sorts, and were continually asking for dawai, and putting un¬ 
 limited faith in our prescriptions. The most popular medicine 
 is quinine, especially with the servants from the plains, who are 
 very liable to get a touch of fever. 
 
 The demand for quinine is apt to become so heavy that it is 
 sometimes well to substitute chiretta , a tonic and intensely bitter 
 febrifuge, which is by no means so popular or so expensive, and 
 which is a fair test whether they really need it or not. Chiretta 
 can be purchased in most villages, whereas, to run short of 
 quinine would be serious indeed. As a general rule, however, a 
 petit verve of spirits is the best medicine to administer at random. 
 This shrab, as they call it, is a forbidden luxury, but so long as 
 we call it medicine their consciences are at rest—much on the 
 same principle as the lax Mohammedans evade the sumptuary 
 laws of the Koran, and declare that one drop of vinegar poured 
 into a cask of wine changes the prohibited beverage into one 
 worthy of an Islamite. 
 
 Our friend, the baboo, had kept faith with us, and in due 
 time fresh coolies arrived. I must do him the justice to confess 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 380 
 
 that without his aid we probably could not have captured any 
 in this cholera-smitten district, but the summons of a great 
 man’s head clerk was one which none dared to disobey. Hence¬ 
 forward fully half our daily supply of coolies were women— 
 women of wonderful strength, though often fragile in appearance, 
 with pleasant refined faces. Others were great strapping wenches, 
 who shouldered loads from which I have often seen a railway 
 porter shrink, while these girls carried them for a whole weary 
 march up and down these dreadful hills with never a murmur— 
 and that for the beggarly sixpence a day ! Not only did the 
 women never murmur, but they constantly laughed and chattered 
 all the way, chaffing the men, who worked twice as well in 
 consequence. 
 
 I suppose this is common work for women in other parts of 
 Tndia, as we were told that when the Madras cavalry were on 
 active service in Bengal, a number of wild-looking women fol¬ 
 lowed their lords, often doing the work of syces in grooming the 
 horses, and always acting as grass-cutters; a sort of foraging 
 that sometimes involved long, wearisome expeditions in addition 
 to their day’s march. Perhaps we might see something of the 
 same sort nearer home, for some of our Highland lassies can carry 
 a very fair burden for many a long mile. I remember seeing one 
 delicate-looking little woman in Skye shoulder a heavy chest 
 that had arrived by the steamer, and march across the steep 
 hills up and down for fully twelve miles to her home. So our 
 maidens are not altogether fusionless , 1 even compared with these 
 Himalayan damsels ! 
 
 As soon as the truant servants and coolies arrived, we at once 
 made a fresh start for Poindah, a very short and beautiful march 
 along the face of a steep hill with long slopes of greenest grass. 
 The higher ridges and crests hereabouts are generally of gneiss 
 intersected by granite veins. Masses of limestone and sand¬ 
 stone, however, crop up in various places, giving varied character 
 both of form and colour. We halted by a cool waterfall in a 
 deep, wooded valley, where all the coolies, men and women, 
 1 Without strength. 
 
POINDAH FOREST. 
 
 381 
 
 bathed in the clear stream which comes rushing and tumbling 
 down through Poindah forest; above which rise a succession of 
 dark solemn hills clothed with divers varieties of pine, and 
 topped with snowy crests. 
 
 Poindah itself is a beautiful spot with a foreground of great 
 boulders of grey rock and fine foliage, and with three distinct 
 views, each more beautiful than the other. On the one hand 
 we looked up to the Babee snows, while right in front of us lay 
 a long reach of the river, with precipitous cliffs, and a distant 
 vision of yet more snows. Then when the eye wearied with 
 gazing on those glittering peaks and the dazzling blue of heaven, 
 it turned with a sense of relief to rest on the sombre hues of the 
 changeless cedar forest which clothed the deep gorge on our 
 right. A night of heavy rain gave us soft fleecy mists in the 
 morning’s sunshine. A scene more peaceful and beautiful could 
 hardly be devised, and we drank greedily of its loveliness, dreading 
 the summons that should once more bid us hurry on and forsake 
 that happy valley. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CEDAR SHADE. 
 
 Mirage—Sungri Forest—Smokers—Cholera—New Arrivals—After the Storm 
 —Himalayan Bridges and Roads—Stupendous Cliffs. 
 
 A succession of soft grey days were pleasantly in keeping with 
 the dark forest scenery now around us, where every hill wore 
 that sombre hue which marks a forest wholly composed of 
 resinous trees, albeit of many species. On every side were dark 
 ravines clothed with the same everlasting pine, where in the 
 brightest midday the gloomy shadows of night still lingered. 
 Sometimes a gust of wild wind came moaning down the gorge, 
 tossing the dark plumes of the morinda and rye pines, as 
 though the shadowy spirits of the forest were wailing dirges for 
 all their dead. And far above this broad cedar shade the snowy 
 peaks stood out, pure, cold, and majestic in the unbroken still¬ 
 ness of a solitude where no foot of man or goat could rest, the 
 ice-mountains and realms of eternal snow, in whose dark and 
 dreary caverns dwell only the awful giants of the frost. 
 
 Some travellers in these regions have told us that sometimes, 
 when the deep valley is filled with level- mist so as to give the 
 impression of a quiet lake lying in deep repose, the illusion 
 has been infinitely heightened by its actually reflecting inverted 
 grey rocks and trees with all their trembling shadows ; a very 
 lovely species of mirage, which we had not the good fortune 
 to see. 
 
SUNGRI FOREST. 
 
 383 
 
 About two miles from Poindah lies Sungri forest; the first 
 place where we really saw something of the glory of old deodars. 
 Here, thanks, I believe, to the especial request of Lady Canning, 
 a little corner of the forest has been left untouched, and groups 
 of magnificent old cedars, some well-nigh thirty feet in girth, 
 still hold their ground as they have probably done for a thousand 
 years or more. 
 
 We were told that on the more inaccessible spots scores of 
 such trees of even larger growth, perhaps twelve feet in diameter 
 at six feet from the ground, are still common enough; but alas t 
 for this age of utilitarianism, wherever it has been possible to 
 bring this precious timber to market, the monarchs of the forest 
 have been ruthlessly felled, and their poor scarred logs, tossed 
 from khad to khad, floated down torrents, and finally committed 
 to the foaming rivers to be for weeks the sport of mocking 
 waters, at length to be drawn ashore on the burning plains, 
 hundreds of miles from their birthplace, and consigned to some 
 timber-merchant’s yard. The value of this timber is such as to 
 make it worth any amount of labour; as when well seasoned 
 it is almost imperishable; those bridges for instance which are 
 built of deodar logs are considered a fait accompli once and 
 for ever. 
 
 Here, however, for once, a morsel of primeval forest remains 
 intact, and very grand it is. These cedars rarely exceed a hun¬ 
 dred and twenty or at most a hundred and fifty feet in height, 
 but their flat branches reach out laterally on every side, forming 
 a great pyramid of dark green with a sunlit edge, and dozens of 
 large pale-green cones resting on each flat layer. So when your 
 eyes are dazzled with gazing on snows, you turn with double 
 delight to look down into the cool depths of this delicious dark¬ 
 ness. Only here and there a solitary sun-ray falls on the silvery 
 grey rocks with their golden-brown lichens, or on the carpets of 
 delicate ferns and mosses which flourish in the deep, rich leaf- 
 mould. But the ferns and mosses find no welcome on the great 
 grey and red stems and mighty branches of the old trees. When 
 after the rains they cover every bough of the oak and other 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 384 
 
 hard wood, I do not think you will find one green frond so 
 venturesome as to take root on the cedars. 
 
 In this old forest I lingered alone for many pleasant hours of 
 the sleepy midday, listening to every harmonious whisper of wind 
 and stream and corriej all nature’s voiceless melodies for ever 
 murmuring low “songs without words” in dreamy delicious 
 cadences—such music as Mother Nature sits crooning in the deep 
 stillness of noon. And beyond this forest sanctuary, the hot, 
 bright sunshine bathed the snows in subtle light ; while in the 
 immeasurable space above, soft vapoury clouds, like angels’ wings, 
 floated on the dreamy blue. 
 
 I said I was alone. Such luck as that, however, was rarely 
 in store for so indifferent a walker as myself. But my brown 
 brothers generally retreated to some quiet corner, where they 
 might smoke to their hearts’ content, and then lie down and 
 sleep till they were wanted. Sometimes, during the mysterious 
 process of sketching, they would sit for hours, like patient bronzes, 
 watching with the utmost interest. Occasionally if they were very 
 anxious to get to their journey’s end, they would pretend to have 
 forgotten to bring their dinners, and to be half starving. As I 
 generally knew this to be humbug, I would offer them half of 
 mine; and then so excellent a joke as my supposed ignorance of 
 the laws of caste would keep them laughing for an hour or two. 
 
 Sometimes when they struggled to explain something about 
 the country, I did sorely regret my ignorance of their language, 
 which prevented the possibility of learning anything from them¬ 
 selves of their legends and customs; and the more intelligent 
 men often looked much disgusted at finding they had charge of a 
 speechless log. However, I daresay the peace and quietness 
 thus secured fully counterbalanced my loss. 
 
 The worst of their smoking was generally the exceeding bad¬ 
 ness of their tobacco, which sometimes was anything but fragrant. 
 The method of smoking here is quite different from that in the 
 plains, or rather the pipe is of simpler construction. The com¬ 
 monest thing is to make two holes in the earth, some inches 
 apart, meeting underground. Into one hole they place dried 
 
SMOKERS. 
 
 3S5 
 
 grass lighted, and over that drop their tobacco. Then covering 
 the other hole with their hand, they inhale through the fingers, or 
 insert a bit of bamboo grass as mouth-piece. Every man carries 
 flint and steel, and a bit of inflammable cloth or fungus. Some 
 curl up a leaf as a pipe, and smoke it as they go along. Others 
 carry a very rude sort of hubble-bubble, with an oval leaden bowl 
 for water, and the smoke which has been cooled, by thus passing 
 through water, is greatly preferred. 
 
 But whatever be the form of pipe used, these frugal beings will 
 not waste their tobacco by lighting more than one pipe for a whole 
 party, so each patiently waits his turn while his brethren take their 
 three whiffs, the last so long and so deep that the smoke is taken in 
 and held, for about a quarter of an hour, at the end of which it is 
 ejected from mouth and nostrils like a cloud. Sometimes they 
 manage to inhale a breath so deep that they turn stupid and giddy, to 
 the great disgust of their fellows, who consider this sheer gluttony . 1 
 
 1 The sight of these human chimneys giving forth their clouds of tobacco 
 reminded me of the story of poor Sir Walter Raleigh (who had learnt the 
 soothing art from the North American Indians) sitting down by his own fireside 
 to smoke his first cigar in England. To him entered an old servant — a regular 
 family “piece”—who, seeing smoke issuing from his master’s mouth, imme¬ 
 diately suspected spontaneous combustion, and without one word, rushed for a 
 bucket of cold water, wherewith he douched the luckless smoker without 
 allowing time for remonstrance ! 
 
 Those were strange days in Britain when tobacco sold for its weight in silver— 
 one shilling being weighed against so much tobacco, the heaviest shillings being 
 “ waled out ” to act as weights—days when, at the tables of English gentlemen, 
 as now among the Paharis, one pipe was handed round, and passed from mouth 
 to mouth ; wealthy folk having devised a silver pipe, while ordinary mortals 
 used a walnut-shell, with a straw or a small reed. On one occasion Sir 
 Walter was guilty of lighting his pipe in presence of ladies, at Acton Park, 
 whereupon they one and all retired, till the noxious weed was burnt out and 
 the tainted atmosphere purified. 
 
 However, the delights of the aromatic weed seem to have been very quickly 
 discovered, as fifteen years later we find King James publishing his curious 
 Counterblast to Tobacco, wherein he states that some gentlemen bestow 
 /300 and ^400 a year on smoke, and although the duty thereon was the greatest 
 custom that came to the royal treasury, the king would fain check a practice so 
 detrimental to his subjects, and gravely asserts that certain great tobacco- 
 takers had been examined after death, when it was found that their insides were 
 coated with an unctuous and oily kind of soot 1 
 
 C C 
 
3S6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Four miles beyond Sungri forest lay our next camping-ground, 
 at Nachar, another bit of grand cedar forest where splendid old 
 trees overshadow a glade of greenest grass, chequered with vivid 
 lights and deepest shadows. At this lovely spot an officer of the 
 Forest Department has wisely made his home, a cheery Briton, 
 commonly known as “ the Laird of Nachar,” who gave us a 
 cordial welcome to his domain, and pointed out a quiet, delightful 
 nook for our tents, beyond his rough-and-ready little bungalow— 
 a nook whence we could overlook the beautiful cedar glade, where, 
 in the sacred grove, stand two very picturesque hill temples. One 
 of these is a regular temple, built, like all the native houses here, 
 and farther up the country, principally of wood, with overhanging 
 roof, and a wide, elaborately carved balcony round the upper 
 story. The other is merely a wooden roof above a paved terrace, 
 whereon to rest the Khuda (the idol tabernacle) on the occasion 
 of the great festivals. 
 
 It would have been a pretty sight to see the hill tribes all 
 dancing their twining circles in this grassy glade, beneath the 
 grand cedars ; but there were no festivals now, only lamentation, 
 and mourning, and woe, by reason of the cry of those stricken 
 with cholera ; for on every side, on hill and in valley, the people 
 were dying wholesale. Of course these poor creatures, whose 
 diet always is what to us would seem starvation, have terribly 
 little stamina to resist any attack of illness ; and though they 
 have immense powers of endurance in the way of bodily fatigue, 
 they at once succumb to sickness of any sort; and so, when 
 cholera or kindred scourges come, their ravages are frightful. 
 
 One of the upper men who was attacked, told me in excellent 
 English (he was a baboo, or clerk) that having been very busy 
 the two previous days, he had neglected to cook his own food, 
 and had eaten nothing but a large bag of sour apples and sourer 
 grapes. As soon as he was taken ill, his amiable servants, instead 
 of coining to get medicines for him, fled, and left him to die 
 alone, though he had himself nursed those very men in previous 
 illnesses. Illness seems a test that few uncivilised tribes can stand, 
 and the Paharis are much like others in this respect, neglecting 
 

 # 
 
 OUR CAMPING-GROUND AT NAOHAR. 
 
ALARM OF CHOLERA. 
 
 387 
 
 their sick very cruelly. One poor woman who was seized with 
 cholera, sent to ask us for medicine. We desired her husband 
 to give her certain cholera pills, which he administered on the 
 point of a long stick, to avoid nearer contact. In fact, it seems 
 as if most wild men, like wild beasts, leave their sick to die 
 alone—fortunate for the sufferers, that they do not, like these, 
 also peck them and goad them to death ! 
 
 Close to the deotas (god-houses) is another building, a rest- 
 house provided by the gods for their worshippers. Of this our 
 servants took immediate possession, and soon were most comfort¬ 
 ably established. Altogether we found this place so fascinating 
 that we halted here for a week both going and returning. For 
 my own part, I believe I was very near having a long sleep under 
 those glorious old cedars. Not from the workings of imagination, 
 for it had never occurred to any of us that the cholera could 
 possibly affect ourselves, but from the most vulgar physical causes. 
 Chiefly, I believe, from very bad potatoes, which were all we could 
 get, but which we had nevertheless eaten, on the principle that 
 travellers must not be squeamish ; and also from the insanity of 
 sleeping in sheets which had become damp from the heavy rain 
 and mists, though the tents were perfectly water-proof. 
 
 Whatever was the cause, I certainly thought my summons had 
 come, and felt infinite satisfaction in the certainty of so beautiful 
 a resting-place—the one in all the world which I should have 
 selected. Moreover, it was pleasant to think that I had just 
 finished a most careful drawing of the green glade, which would 
 give every one at home a capital notion of the place where these 
 poor bones were laid, and that they would never look at it without 
 remembering the dear old song that tells how 
 
 “ The Indian knows her place of rest, 
 
 Far in the cedar shade.” 
 
 It really was quite a throwing away of romance to get well again. 
 But the truth is, that in one of those tin boxes was stowed a 
 precious store of all manner of useful remedies for possible evils 
 —vulgar but most precious castor-oil, sulphuric acid and quinine, 
 
 C C 2 
 
3S8 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 brandy and chlorodyne, to say nothing of Brand’s essence of 
 beef as consolation for the convalescent—so, thanks to a series 
 of experiments with these, the foul cholera-fiend was routed 
 ignominiously. 
 
 Then there came a day of most wonderful excitement. Three 
 tents were pitched one evening beneath the great cedars, and 
 straightway their unknown owners became objects of intense 
 interest. Now such meetings in the wilderness have a charm of 
 their own. People must be very churlish indeed who cannot find 
 a few pleasant words for one another under such circumstances, 
 and, generally speaking, they are only too glad to make themselves 
 agreeable. Sometimes, too, the arrival of the baggage and the 
 little white tent heralds the most unexpected meeting of old 
 friends, whose kindred love of wandering has led them from 
 opposite ends of the earth to the same spot. 
 
 On the present occasion there was good cause for excitement, 
 for among the servants who had arrived with the tents we detected 
 an ayah , 1 and sure enough there presently arrived a lady, the only 
 one whom we met in our wanderings in the character of sister 
 gipsy, though we afterwards found two ladies resident in the far 
 wilds. We did indeed hear of another lady who had accompanied 
 her husband on a shooting excursion right into Thibet. She had 
 last been seen vanishing into space on the back of a yak, like 
 Una and her lion, and whether they have ever been heard of 
 since, deponent knoweth not. 
 
 One marked peculiarity of the new comers proved to be a 
 passion for bezique. (Imagine cards in these forests! !) They 
 seemed to live in a chronic state of be'zique, and if they happened 
 to be in the middle of a game when the hour for marching 
 arrived, they carefully noted their cards, and renewed their battle 
 the moment they reached the next halt. Notwithstanding which, 
 however, the two gentlemen of that party had done more in the 
 way of sport than any others whom we met. 
 
 Meanwhile we were having a fair foretaste of the rains, thunder, 
 lightning, and tempests; and though our social instincts drew us 
 1 Native lady’s maid. 
 
IN THE FOREST OF NACHAR. 
 
 339 
 
 together for the pleasantest of merry meetings in the Robinson 
 Crusoe bungalow of the Laird, we had sometimes to keep on our 
 waterproofs, and hoist our umbrellas in the house, and so sat, 
 during the most elaborate of amalgamated dinners, each cook 
 supplying what he could. How they managed to cook at all was 
 a standing mystery. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe’s menage was a matter of much interest; 
 it included live-stock of various sorts, but especially poultry, which 
 were in a state of perpetual antagonism with his garden. Poultry, 
 by the way, was a luxury which we had well-nigh forgotten, being 
 as unattainable as beef in this purely Hindoo region, the former 
 being as unclean as the latter is sacred. 
 
 But the chief luxury of this home in the wilds, was the excellent 
 white bread, manufactured by Pier Bux the king of the household, 
 who strove hard to rule his master with the same rod of iron with 
 which he guided other men, failing in which laudable effort, master 
 and servant were in perpetual phases of loggerheads and recon¬ 
 ciliation. Not least in that household was a gigantic leopard-dog, 
 so large, and so fierce and rough, as to be a terror to all beholders, 
 while his iron-spiked collar rendered him proof against sudden 
 assault from nocturnal marauders. 
 
 When our evening party broke up, we sallied forth, bearing 
 lanterns, and picked our way through the wet moss and mire to 
 the little white tents, which had kept out every drop of rain; 
 moreover the carpets had been lifted, and charcoal fires lighted all 
 day in a hole in the earth, so that our nests were warm and snug. 
 The rain had ceased, and the clear stars gave promise of a glorious 
 morrow. Nor were we disappointed. So lovely was the dawn that 
 we determined to march straightway, and get to higher regions 
 beyond the influence of the rains. 
 
 It was a morning much to be remembered. No trace remained 
 of the dark thunderstorm of yesterday, save that on every side 
 countless streamlets, clear as crystal, were rushing down every cleft 
 in the mountains, and dashing over the precipitous rocks in 
 headlong fall, filling the air with a murmurous sound as of the 
 voice of many waters, which floated upward on the breeze, as it 
 
390 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 “ soughed ” through the topmost branches of the dark dreamy 
 pines; and, save where the delicate cloud-shadows rested for 
 a moment, the whole valley lay bathed in that clear shining after 
 rain, in which the eastern mind so readily perceives the glad 
 rejoicing of what we call inanimate nature—the trees of the 
 forest, the laughing harvest fields, the mountains and hills, the 
 winds of God, and all green things of the earth, yea, all the 
 deep-toned harmonies of nature, taking up the chorus of praise, 
 which lightning and cloud had proclaimed through all the tumult 
 of the tempest. 
 
 At a very short distance from Nachar we first caught a glimpse 
 of that group of snow peaks, towards which we were specially 
 directing our steps ; as also of the deep wide valley into which we 
 were about to descend ; thence, crossing the Sutlej and the Wanga 
 rivers, which here meet, but which must nevertheless be crossed 
 by separate bridges, our route lay along the precipitous cliffs on 
 the other side of the Sutlej, which at this point narrows into a 
 very confined gorge. 
 
 The river here comes down with a frightful rush—its velocity in 
 the rains being frequently over twenty miles an hour, and masses 
 of snow are occasionally washed down, which endanger the 
 existence of all bridges. 
 
 One of these was carried away one beautiful night, when neither 
 storm nor tempest seemed to threaten evil. But when morning 
 broke, the bridge was gone, and there remained only a well-defined 
 water line, which left it to be inferred that a large avalanche must 
 have passed down in the night, having probably lain wedged in by 
 cliffs, till the pressure of a great body of water accumulating behind 
 it had caused it to burst down with overwhelming violence, sweep¬ 
 ing all before it. 
 
 The bridge built by Capt. Lang, R.E., which we were to cross 
 this day, had a narrow escape of being destroyed in its infancy, a 
 great mass of rock having fallen from a perpendicular cliff about 
 1,500 feet above the bridge, and a large fragment lighted on the 
 bridge itself, which was partially destroyed. 
 
 Just above this point the lovely Wanga river mingles its 
 
BRIDGE BUILDING. 
 
 391 
 
 crystalline waters with those of the turbid, yellow Sutlej, which, 
 swollen by a vast body of melted snow, rushes impetuously along, 
 carrying with it whole beds of mica and sand, and by no means 
 improving its own beauty by the addition. The Wanga itself is a 
 clear and beautiful stream, rushing down with tremendous violence 
 over huge boulders of water-worn granite. One of the loveliest 
 expeditions possible lies up this valley, to the Spiti Pass. It offers 
 no great difficulty, and no one who is master of his own time 
 should miss going at all events as far as the head of the valley, 
 which is three days’ march. 
 
 This bridge at Wangtu is a very fine specimen of the Himalayan 
 construction, wherever a solid roadway is required. It is built 
 entirely on the principle of leverage. Several large trees are felled 
 on each side of the river, and their trunks are laid on either shore, 
 with the narrow ends projecting over the river, and heavy stones 
 laid over the thick ends to increase their counter-weight. Cross¬ 
 bars of wood are then laid over the projecting ends. Thus the 
 first layer is complete. The process is repeated again and again, 
 each layer of trees projecting some feet beyond the last, till the 
 two sets of timber almost meet in mid-air; and one more layer 
 crowns both. Then planks laid crosswise form the roadway. 
 The base of the timbers on either side is imbedded in solid masonry. 
 Strong railings guard against accidents, and an excellent substantial 
 bridge is thus formed. The timber generally used is the deodar, 
 which seems almost imperishable, proof alike against heat and 
 wet, and all other influences tending to decay. The same principle 
 of bridge-making, but in rough-and-ready style, is to be seen on a 
 small scale on many little streams, such bridges being occasionally 
 rapidly made just when required ! Rough logs are laid on either 
 bank, weighted by stones. On these are laid others, tied together 
 with coarse ropes of goat’s hair, and of course overlapping the first 
 layer, then a final layer unites both. Still narrower torrents arc- 
 bridged by a couple of tall trees felled so as to fall across the 
 stream side by side; on these are laid flat slabs of stone, and the 
 bridge is complete. There is no sort of rail, and often the spray 
 from the foaming waters dashes right over these slippery logs. 
 
392 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Such solid bridges as these are, however, generally confined 
 to the lesser streams. The broader rivers are more frequently 
 crossed by different varieties of rope bridges. In some cases ropes 
 are slung across from rock to rock; from these hangs a kind of 
 seat fastened to a triangle, which slips along the main ropes as the 
 traveller works it with his hands. Sometimes he sits in a coil of 
 rope and is drawn over from the opposite side—a very giddy 
 operation, as I can testify. The more experienced Paharis disdain 
 any extraneous aid, and I have watched them crawl along a single 
 rope like monkeys, just holding on by arms and legs, with the 
 boiling torrent thundering along far below them, and the know¬ 
 ledge that one moment’s giddiness or hesitation would plunge 
 them beyond all reach of human aid. 
 
 These ropes are made of grass, and in an old neglected bridge 
 they occasionally slacken so much as to dip right down in the 
 middle, and as the great snow-waves rise and heap themselves up 
 in mid-stream they sometimes reach the rope, and dash over the 
 luckless traveller till he is actually drowned. Such an accident had 
 occurred at the Jula 1 of Chargaon a few days before we had to cross 
 by it,—a sad story which the natives took good care to impress on 
 us, byway of encouragement. Sometimes, too, an old rope breaks 
 and leaves the passenger short time for shrift, as the angry waters 
 whirl him playfully along. 
 
 We heard of an instance in which a party of foreigners had to 
 cross a raging torrent by a single rope, over which was slung a 
 bamboo, bent into the form of a horse-shoe; below this each was 
 slung in turn, and having been allowed to slip rapidly down the 
 steep incline to the middle, they were pulled up the other side by 
 a draw-rope. Just before the last man crossed, one strand of the 
 solitary rope broke ; it was however supposed that it would still 
 bear his weight, but on reaching the obstacle thus formed, the 
 bamboo could slide no further ! The man on the bank he had 
 just left, strove in vain to draw him back. There he was stuck fast, 
 —no effort could draw him backwards or forwards, and for hours 
 the luckless traveller hung suspended in mid-air, with the raging 
 1 Rope bridge. 
 
DANGERS OF CONSTRUCTING CLIFF-PATHS. 393 
 
 waters leaping and roaring below. At length, by an almost super¬ 
 human effort he contrived with his own hands to hoist the bamboo 
 over the broken strand which had caused the hitch, and at long 
 last reached the further bank in safety. 
 
 Another variety of rope bridge is a very dangerous species of 
 ladder; two ropes slung across the river being connected by 
 steps of wood fastened at short intervals. Two other ropes act 
 as supports for the hand, generally attached to the former by an 
 occasional bamboo. As you pick your steps along the frail ladder, 
 you see the turbid waters rushing below you, and many a stout 
 heart has turned sick and giddy before reaching the opposite shore. 
 Not even a goat can be induced to cross a path of such open-work 
 construction, so when a flock has been led to the one shore, the 
 shepherd must carry each creature over, on his own shoulders. 
 When acting as beasts of burden, they must of course be unladen, 
 and their little saddle-bags carried over separately. You can 
 imagine that this is rather serious work, with a flock of perhaps 
 one thousand goats ! 1 
 
 Sometimes, as we wound securely along the dizzy height, so 
 comfortably profiting by other men’s labours, the thought would 
 flash across us of what it must have been for the first workers, and 
 the awful danger of beginning such a road, winding round sheer 
 precipices where one false step would hurl the bold cragsman into 
 an almost fathomless abyss. 
 
 Along perpendicular cliffs of the very worst description, where 
 natural ledges are few and far between, galleries have to be con¬ 
 structed. The most able climber in the district will creep along, 
 where hardly a goat would ve'nture, and will contrive to bore 
 holes at intervals of about fifteen feet, and therein fix strong iron 
 bars, from which to suspend ropes and planks, to enable his 
 fellows to begin work. 
 
 Suppose, however, the leader comes to a part of the cliff so 
 smooth that even he can find no footing, he must scale the 
 cliff, and either scramble down a little farther on, or else, fixing 
 an iron bar at a higher point, must be let down by a rope thence 
 1 Himalayan Bridges. See chap. xvii. 
 
394 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 suspended, till he finds himself once more on his original level. 
 Then he must repeat the old operation of boring the rock, and 
 fixing a jumper; after which, a rope bridge must be suspended 
 between this and the last point gained, and men can then set to 
 work to bore, and let in bars at the intermediate points. 
 
 Thus, foot by foot, the work progresses, and every characteristic 
 of a keen cragsman is called into play—a cool, clear head, a 
 steady foot and hand, and great power of endurance. 
 
 We met Mr. Cregeen, the “ Road Sahib ” as the people call 
 him, on some of his surveying expeditions, and I think I cannot 
 do better than quote his words, and those of Captain Lang, his 
 predecessor, to describe this portion of our route. 
 
 “Below Serahan we find very precipitous cliffs rising several 
 thousand feet above the Sutlej. Of these, the Taranda, Wangtu, 
 Neoza, Maizong, and Rogi cliff's, are fine examples, and more 
 grand and dangerous than anything that has been before attacked 
 in the construction of the Hindostan and Thibet road. 
 
 “ The first passage of the smooth, water-worn, granite face of 
 the Wangtu cliff, rising like a wall from the foaming waves of the 
 Sutlej as it rushes through the narrow Wangtu gorge, a feat 
 possible to but few men in the world, was unhesitatingly executed 
 by Bhulku, celebrated as the keenest cragsman in Bussahir, who 
 fixed in the crevices of the cliff all the first irons for the attach¬ 
 ment of the rope and planking, on which, suspended above the 
 river, worked the coolies, who constructed the viaducts. 
 
 “ Near Rogi are precipices of stupendous height, scarcely to be 
 surpassed in grandeur by any in the Himalayas; and, to carry 
 a road across their apparently inaccessible faces required bold 
 and active hill-men, careless of being perched on dizzy pinnacles, 
 boring for blasts, of being suspended on narrow planks over 
 infinite space, or of crawling or creeping where there seemed no 
 place for hand or foot to advance the work.” 
 
 The Rogi and Maizong cliffs are at an elevation of several 
 thousand feet above the Sutlej. They have doubtless been 
 caused by immense landslips, and are very precipitous. The 
 cliffs are rugged, many parts overhanging, and there are in many 
 

THE R06I CLIFF-GREAT KIPYLAS PEAKS. 
 
ROAD-MAKING ON THE CLIFFS. 
 
 395 
 
 places drops of 500 feet before touching another projection, 
 whence, rebounding, the hapless climber whose foot has failed 
 him, must be hurled down and down, till his shattered fragments 
 find anything but a resting place, in the tossing, raging river. 
 
 The Rogi cliff is of very compact gneiss, and, from its continual 
 tendency to scale, very great additional difficulties arose, as 
 •ordinary methods of blasting generally brought down any rock but 
 that which was intended. For instance, after boring upwards of 
 eight hundred mines in one cliff, it was hoped that by simul¬ 
 taneously firing them a continuous line of fracture would be 
 produced. Instead of this, all the result was that immense 
 quantities of overhanging rock were brought down from above, 
 while the rock over which the road should have lain scaled off 
 entirely; the cradles were smashed, the stanchion bars twisted — 
 serious losses, where every tool and nail has to be carried up by 
 coolies from the plains, a march of many days. The weather¬ 
 worn rock face, being thus impracticable, it was found necessary to 
 cut it back considerably, and thus reach amass less liable to scale. 
 
 In the Wangtu cliff, on the other hand, the chief difficulty lay 
 in the smooth water-worn granite face, along which, at about 
 100 feet above the water, the road must be led — scarcely one 
 crevice, projection, or ledge marks the slippery face along which 
 men must crawl. “ If a man had the misfortune to slip or make 
 a false step, the chances were very considerably against his ever 
 having another chance. There is really and literally nothing which 
 a man could hope to clutch; nor could assistance be rendered 
 him if he fell. In an instant, the waters of the Sutlej would 
 hurl him along, and he would either be dashed to pieces against a 
 rock or large boulder, or be jammed between a couple of them.” 
 
 These, then, were some of the dangers and difficulties which 
 had attended the making of that path along which we now wound 
 so safely, though in truth it still looked somewhat “ kittle work ” 1 
 as we say in the north, to see the path projecting from the 
 smooth granite face, and carried over wooden supports over¬ 
 hanging the river. 
 
 1 Kittle, uncertain, anxious. Scotch, unreliable. 
 
396 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The opposite cliff has its own sad tale to tell. Another of 
 those terrible accidents when a restive pony backed over the khad, 
 and the strong right arm that strove to hold it up by main force 
 could avail nothing, for in the agony of the moment the rider 
 had fainted, and fallen from her saddle, unconscious of all the 
 misery that in that moment fell on two sunny homes which, by 
 her “ going away,” were left desolate. 
 
 For a considerable distance after crossing the bridge at Wangtu, 
 our rocky path lay so close above the river that its noise was 
 almost deafening. The vast body of melted snows, which at 
 this season come rushing down the gorge, swell the stream to 
 such a size that it goes tearing along in huge, yellow waves, foul 
 and turbid. It was, therefore, with positive delight that we turned 
 up a steep zigzag path which at last brought us to Urni. 
 
 Our recollections of this place are, I fancy, considerably tinged 
 by the small discomforts of the moment. The fir-clad hills were 
 round us, and snowy peaks as usual, but my chief impression is 
 of a night spent in the dirty mess of a half-finished bungalow, for 
 as we could find no convenient place to pitch our tents, we put 
 up in half-built rooms, with a fair view of the sky through all the 
 chinks. While we sat at supper by a blazing fire, a silvery hill-fox 
 crept up to have a look at us. We only caught sight of two of 
 these pretty creatures, and both were wary enough to escape, and 
 preserve their valuable fur for their own benefit. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 VILLAGES ON THE CLIFFS. 
 
 Scale of Size—Vegetation of divers Altitudes—A Great Dinner !—Three 
 Mighty Pinnacles—The Mountain Heaven—Villages on Cliffs—Pahari 
 Customs—Polyandry—Goat Caravans—The Snow-line in Europe anil 
 Asia—Snow-blindness—Stone capped Ice Pillars—Cheenee—Pangi— 
 Celtic Brooches—A Study for Murillo—Scarcity of Animal Life—The 
 Yak. 
 
 Next day a beautiful march of twelve miles up the Kunawur 
 valley brought us along the face of tremendous cliffs, with the 
 river far below, and dark masses of wood, running like broad 
 shadows right up to the snows. While looking at such a scene 
 without any especial sense of its vastness, it was curious suddenly 
 to catch some landmark that acted as a scale of measurement. 
 Here, for instance, where at an immeasurable distance below us 
 flowed the troubled yellow waters of the Sutlej, I noticed that 
 they were just edged with a line of cliff. That cliff I knew to be 
 far higher than the highest cliff along our Moray sea-coast of 
 which we think so much. 
 
 And I knew too that in every crevice of that rock there grew 
 tropical plants, such as belong to the plains of India, while as 
 the eye slowly travelled upward, it noted one belt after another 
 of changing vegetation ; and I knew that though I could distin¬ 
 guish nothing save a general mass of greenery, each changing 
 shade of colour marked the plants of divers altitudes, passing 
 from the cactuses and acacias of the tropics, to the oak and 
 rhododendrons of cooler levels, thence to the cedar forest, higher 
 
39 § 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 still to the neoza pine, and finally to a fringe of birch, of juniper, 
 and green pasture land, reaching to the very verge of the snows, 
 where the smooth sheets of dazzling whiteness are only broken 
 by the green shadows of glaciers, lying between huge masses of 
 bare, black rock. On those grassy slopes above the birch grow 
 cowslips and polyanthus, sweet as those of our own green 
 meadows, and with them beds of strawberries, and other well- 
 known favourites. Thus at one glance the eye ranged from the 
 torrid to the arctic zone, but it was only by some such mental 
 effort that it seemed possible to realise the colossal scale of all 
 around. Sometimes too we noticed some little atoms of dark 
 foliage, dotting the face of the precipice, like flies on a castle wall. 
 On nearer approach, these generally proved to be fine old cedars, 
 whose gnarled and twisted roots had taken a mighty hold of some 
 crevice, though their great weather-beaten trunks, and bare, con¬ 
 torted arms, told what awful battles they had fought with storm 
 and tempest. 
 
 Thus, sometimes winding along the face of stupendous precipices, 
 (where one false step would have hurled us from the safe path 
 into the immeasurable depths of an almost fathomless ravine,) 
 and sometimes through the cedar forest, we reached the road 
 bungalow at Rogi. On its balcony, to our dismay, we detected 
 two topee-wallahs, or wearers of hats, as white men are called. A 
 very few minutes, however, sufficed to prove them both Scots, and 
 nearly akin to friends whom we had just left in the far north ; so 
 it did not take us long to fraternise. To these were presently 
 added two others, officers of the Rifles, and as we all agreed to 
 make common cause, this halt in the wilds proved a very pleasant 
 gathering. 
 
 We did our best to make our meeting suggestive of home, by 
 producing all the Scotch dishes at our command. At dinner a 
 famous bowl of hotch-potch (thanks to the admirable preserved 
 tins), and at breakfast Findon haddies and genuine porridge. 
 There was always some amusement at these amalgamated dinners, 
 in seeing what each housekeeper had produced. One would pro¬ 
 vide Liebig’s soup, cod’s roe, and mmaul pheasant; another a 
 
A GREAT DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 399 
 
 dish of white-bait and roast mutton ; a third a genuine lobster 
 salad (the lettuce sent perhaps for miles by a coolie, from some 
 oasis in the mountain desert), and a chicore stew ; perhaps some 
 bear-steaks also, and a pate de foie gras , also potatoes, perhaps 
 curry — rice inevitably—or the young curly tops of common 
 bracken stewed with butter, which we then considered fully equal 
 to asparagus. I cannot say that on repeating the experiment in 
 Scotland, they seemed quite as good ! We also found that young 
 nettles made capital spinach ; watercresses we gathered in the 
 brooks, and green peas we had imported from England ! Several 
 other vegetables grow wild, including gooseberries and rhubarb; 
 but these make too heavy a demand on limited stores of sugar. 
 We were especially charmed at finding loads of excellent mush¬ 
 rooms on some of the grassy slopes, and when our gathering 
 exceeded our daily consumption, we had a grand brew of ketchup 
 —the real unadulterated article, with no fear of fried liver, and 
 blacking, or other foreign ingredients ! 
 
 As I before said, the supply of game is most uncertain, and the 
 only meat that can be purchased from the natives is the wearisome 
 toujours mutton; even that being sometimes difficult to procure, 
 while, as I have already observed, the absence of Mohammedan¬ 
 ism makes itself quickly felt in the commissariat, inasmuch as the 
 Hindoos consider poultry too unclean, and beef too holy, for 
 human food. 
 
 Therefore for all variety of diet, travellers chiefly depend on the 
 inestimable tins of preserved meats of all sorts, the value of which 
 is so well understood by all Anglo-Indians, that one lady was 
 heard to remark, that doubtless nothing else was ever used at 
 Her Majesty’s table ! Just imagine the luxury of opening a tin 
 of fresh lobster, or perhaps salmon—pq^sibly a little “tender” as 
 the cockneys say,—and with the addition of excellent lettuce and 
 cucumbers from the Road Sahib’s garden, making a salad that 
 would rejoice the veriest gourmet in the kingdom ! I dwell at 
 some length on all this good fare, for I am telling you of a great 
 social gath^jng—a sort of Lord Mayor’s feast. Our daily bread 
 was of course very much simpler, having for its main feature a pot 
 
400 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 ait feu wherein divers meats generally found themselves reduced 
 to a savoury hash, always ready on the shortest notice. 
 
 Our feast was spread in the open verandah, whence looking 
 upward beyond the awful desolation of that chaotic waste of rocks, 
 “ the tumbled fragments of the hills,” towered three mighty pin¬ 
 nacles of whitest snow, with blackest peaks—peaks of hard black 
 rock, so steep that even the light snow could there find no resting- 
 place, only here and there a ledge where it might cling, marking 
 the barren precipice with veins of silver. The great central mass, 
 known as the Raal Dhang, rises to 21,000 feet; while on either 
 side the greater and lesser Ivylas follow closely, being upwards of 
 19,000. All day long we watched the ever-varying lights and 
 shadows playing over these untrodden ice fields, as they glowed 
 fiery red at morning and evening, or changed to deepest purple as 
 storms swept over them. But oftener than all, the cold white snow 
 glistened with strange, spirit light against a pale, green sky, while 
 strange, fair vapours drifted restlessly to and fro, half shrouding 
 those phantom peaks. 
 
 Then, as our glance turned downward, we looked beyond a 
 waving sea of foliage, the tops of apricot and other forest trees, to 
 another vast precipice of yellowish stone, dotted with old gnarled 
 cedars, each one a study for an artist. Beyond that again, rose 
 hundreds of tiny terraced fields ; then a great cedar forest, shelv¬ 
 ing downward for thousands of feet, till it reached the waters of 
 the Sutlej, which lay hidden in the black chasm far below, only 
 betraying its presence by the hoarse, hollow murmur of its sullen 
 waters, as they boiled and foamed and thundered on their way. 
 On the opposite cliff, the waters, rushing down from the melting 
 snow had formed a torrent which leapt from height to height in 
 its headlong career till it dashed over the precipice in a cloud 
 of silvery spray, seeming to lose itself in rainbow light. 
 
 We had risen considerably since we camped at Rampore, which 
 is only 3,000 feet above the sea. Now we were looking up to the 
 source of the Sutlej which issues from a sacred lake famous in 
 Sanskrit mythology, which lies on the slope of great Kylas at 
 about 15,000 feet above the sea. 
 
THE CELESTIAL HILLS. 
 
 401 
 
 As there was no convenient level spot close to the bungalow 
 where we could pitch our tents, the previous occupants resigned 
 half the house to us. A tiny wooden room fell to my share, in 
 which I found a strange reminder of England, for some previous 
 tenant had papered it all over with the Illustrated Londoti News 
 of 1864; so when I awoke in these distant regions, I found 
 myself surrounded with pictures of St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, 
 and the Prince of Wales’s marriage; Edinburgh illuminated; 
 quiet reaches of the Thames, and all the principal pictures that 
 we remembered in that year’s Royal Academy. 
 
 It was a pleasant vision of home, but soon forgotten in the 
 entrancing beauty of the reality before me; the early dawn 
 throwing its flood of pearly light on the peaks right in front of us, 
 and revealing cliffs, crevasses, and glaciers vast and wonderful; 
 while all the valley below lay bathed in silver mist. Looking up 
 to that mysterious world of whiteness, we could not but share 
 the awe with which the Paharis gaze on those pathless snows, 
 where human foot may never hope to tread. For they believe 
 the mighty Kylas to be the chosen dwelling-place of the Great 
 Spirit, chief of all the gods; and heaven, they say, lies high 
 among those inaccessible peaks. (I wonder if there can be any 
 connection between this word Kylas and the Latin Ccelus, or 
 between Himalaya and the German Himmel?) The word 
 Kylas would seem to be applied to any especially heavenly 
 spot, as we find the Kylas temples at Ellora, hewn in the solid 
 rocks. 
 
 We also find the same faith which invests the hill tops with a 
 sense of religious awe, in Southern India, where the Todas point 
 out Makarty Peak in the Neilgherries as the portal of heaven, 
 whence not only the souls of their dead, but also those of the 
 spirits of the buffaloes slain at their funerals, pass into the dreamy 
 unknown world. 
 
 Such of the Paharis as care to find a name for the Great and 
 Awful Spirit, say that on the Kylas, Siva sits enthroned, together 
 with his wife, Durga or Parvati, who is the favourite goddess of 
 the hills. She has another name, which describes her as the 
 
 D D 
 
402 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 lady of the fishy eye. At her temples there are frequently tanks 
 full of sacred fish. What connection may exist between these 
 and her eyes, I cannot say ! 
 
 Looking up the valley, we could discern two villages—one 
 clinging to the face of the cliff among the cedars; another perched 
 on a little plateau far below, jutting out from the precipice, so 
 that on three sides this village on the cliff literally overhung the 
 stream. How any children survived so dangerous a nursery was 
 a standing miracle. Some one suggested that they were tethered, 
 which possibly might be of some use. Literally, I have scrambled 
 through such villages as would have turned most heads giddy. 
 Luckily for me, however, my early training in scrambling along 
 the steep cliffs of the Findhorn has made me proof against such 
 weakness. 
 
 In the tiny, terraced fields the people were working busily. 
 Some had already gathered in their little crop, and were ploughing 
 the land with just as rude a plough as the caschrom of Skye; 
 merely a crooked piece of stick, of which one end acts as a 
 handle, while the other is shod with iron, and tears up the ground. 
 The crops were of many sorts—chiefly Indian corn, and a deep 
 crimson grain with scarlet leaves, which produces a field red as 
 blood, and of which a red pottage is made ; in colour, at least, 
 like poor Esau’s pottage of lentils. They grow lucerne, grass, 
 and green stuff for forage ; also buckwheat, and a very tall corn, 
 a sort of millet which hangs in a bunch of loose grain like giant 
 oats—a very pretty crop as the breeze ripples over it. 
 
 We were told that the people sometimes have much ado to 
 protect their fields from the bears, when these come down in 
 search of wild apricots. We should have been uncommonly glad 
 if they had come while we were there, as a supply of fresh bear’s 
 grease would have been particularly useful. But the gentlemen 
 toiled in vain ; and as a general result of two or three days of 
 stiff walking right up among the snows, would bring us back a 
 few snow-balls, and tantalise us with accounts of the delicious 
 strawberries on which they had feasted. They only shot one bear 
 all the time we were out; and so far from his supplying us with 
 
SOUR PORRIDGE OF APRICOT MEAL. 403 
 
 bear’s grease, the natives forthwith ate him up to the uttermost 
 fragment, and left us only his skin as a trophy. 
 
 Meanwhile the apricot crop was safely gathered in, and the 
 golden fruit was spread in masses on the flat roofs of the houses, 
 and there left to dry in the sun. They are then pounded into 
 flour, and form the staple food of the Paharis, to whom attah, or 
 grain flour, is far too expensive a luxury for ordinary use. From 
 the habit, which I suppose is necessary, of gathering the fruit 
 before it is fully ripened, the flour is very sour, and when made 
 into gruel, tastes much like tomato sauce — a good accompaniment 
 to more solid food, but very poor diet. No wonder that the men 
 to whom this sour porridge is daily food should so quickly suc¬ 
 cumb to the cholera. The apricot kernels are carefully collected 
 and subjected to pressure, when they yield an oil which is burnt 
 in the rude lamps. 
 
 The village on the cliff of which I spoke just now is a fair 
 sample of many others. It seems as though they were invariably 
 perched on the very verge of the steepest precipices, and in the 
 most inaccessible places. Each house is built of wood, and 
 several stories high, with widely projecting roofs and balconies, 
 where all manner of scenes in domestic life reveal themselves 
 to the passers-by. The roofs are often high and peaked, com¬ 
 posed of heavy slates of irregular form, and very thick. 
 Sometimes they are made of great cedar planks : occasionally 
 they are made flat, supporting a wooden cistern to catch the 
 rain-water. 
 
 On many houses you see a luxuriant crop of cucumbers, vines, 
 and gourds, climbing all over the roof and carved wood-work, 
 twining round arches and pillars, the large fruit covering even the 
 roof. 
 
 Formerly it was common to build houses of five or even six 
 storeys high: now they rarely exceed three; though some of the 
 old sort are still standing. One sportsman mentioned having 
 seen three such, near the source of the Ganges, that were six 
 storeys high ; he had also taken the trouble to measure a house 
 door which was made of a single plank of cedar-wood, one foot 
 
 d d 2 
 
404 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 thick and six feet wide. The lower storey is almost invariably 
 of rough stone-work, being the cattle stable ; an outer staircase 
 leads to the dwelling-house, the door of which is generally so low 
 that you must stoop to enter. The women have no separate 
 quarters, as in the plains, but the family live together, much as 
 they do elsewhere. Occasionally the houses are whitewashed 
 externally, which, however, does not denote any special cleanliness 
 of the interior, as there is no sort of drainage, and dirt of all 
 sorts is allowed to accumulate. I do not think, however, that 
 these villages are as foul as many of our own. 
 
 One thing which tends greatly to their dirt (may I say their 
 richness of colour?) is the amount of pine and cedar wood which 
 is burnt in the chimneyless houses; and no fuel could be more 
 smoky and sooty in its deposits, though at the time, it burns with 
 a clear, ruddy blaze, which cheers the inmates through the long 
 winter evenings, while they wile away the hours with stories and 
 wild legends of old adventure on hill or in forest; stories of the 
 chase, or traditions of demi-gods and weird spirits. Like our 
 own old Highlanders, they delight to sing or recite (as they sit 
 round the red wood fire) such stories as find favour with a race 
 superstitious and imaginative ; peopling the dark forest, and the 
 blue ice-caverns, with a spirit-world such as that recognised by our 
 forefathers, to whom the soughing of the wind before a gathering 
 tempest seemed the sigh of the mountain spirit, and the voice 
 of the rushing storm whispered of terrible, dark demons of the 
 night, flying on the wild wind, bearing to some devoted wretch 
 the dread doom of death—while every mountain and valley was 
 the home of some mysterious creature, and Echo, “ the Son of the 
 Rock,” was as truly a living being as any of those now reverenced 
 by these Paharis. 
 
 I.ike all dwellers among the mountains, these men have a 
 passionate love of home, and of their dear native valleys. Of their 
 extraordinary honesty I have already spoken, and of that we had 
 good cause to speak well, having never missed the value of a 
 farthing at their hands. Their character for truthfulness does not 
 stand so high. Those who have most to do with them say they 
 
PAIIARI SOCIAL CUSTOMS. 
 
 405 
 
 cannot rely on their word, and that they not only lie without 
 scruple, but are scarcely annoyed at being detected. Moreover 
 to prove how truly “evil-doers are evil-deemers,” they are always 
 ready to accuse one another of falsehood, and are said to be 
 vindictive and envious among themselves. 
 
 Of that we can say nothing—to us they seemed a cheery race, 
 generally ready to make the best of things; but then the white 
 skin always secures more or less ready service from the dark, it 
 being part of the native character to submit at once to proven 
 superiority, whether of intellect or brute force—to refuse things 
 to a man weak and helpless, and obey with alacrity in obedience 
 to sharp words. So that sometimes the supplies of goods and of 
 coolies that had been refused to courteous demands have been 
 brought quite pleasantly in obedience to threats. 
 
 Still the hill-men are undoubtedly very independent, and 
 dearly like to show off occasionally. Thus in some of the more 
 remote districts, where English influence has less authority, 
 sportsmen have sometimes been compelled to give up their 
 choicest hunting-grounds, because the village mates have point- 
 blank refused to provide coolies ; and not one would volunteer, 
 though offered any wages they liked to ask-—a state of things not 
 suggestive of deep poverty. These villages also utterly refused to 
 supply sheep and flour at any price. 
 
 One curious thing that we were told was, that from some odd 
 superstition, akin perhaps to the feeling which makes a Highland 
 wife speak of her husband as “ Himsel ” without mentioning any 
 name, these Pahari women have the strongest objection to utter 
 their husband’s name, and that he, likewise, will always call his wife 
 by that of the village from which she came, but never by her own. 
 
 There is a curious distinction in the social customs of the 
 people in the upper and lower part of this valley. Below 
 Wangtu it is said that polygamy prevails, as elsewhere ; every man 
 buying his wives from their parents for a given number of rupees. 
 When he is tired of one of these, he sells her to his neighbour 
 for something under cost price, and purchases a new inmate for 
 the zenana ! 
 
406 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Farther up the valley, however, where the people are very poor, 
 and the tiny ridges of cultivation will not support large families, 
 polyandry is common, as among the Todas in the Neilgherries, 
 and certain of the Cingalese tribes. The elder brother of a 
 family chooses one wife for himself and all his brothers. The 
 children are common property, and seem equally beloved by all 
 the family, so they , at least, do not suffer by the arrangement. 
 Possibly this curious state of domestic life may account for the 
 fact, so often commented on, of the intense love of the Paharis 
 for their children, for whose sakes they are content to make any 
 sacrifice, whereas this sentiment is by no means reciprocated by 
 the rising generation, who, as a rule, are cruelly neglectful of their 
 parents, even of the mothers, who, it is said, generally nurse their 
 offspring for two or three years ! 
 
 The sisters of the wife, being considered “ detrimentals,” are 
 placed in Buddhist convents, whence they come forth to work in 
 the fields, or as coolies. Many men also find homes in these 
 convents, though this seems rather a matter of social convenience 
 than of religious feeling. 
 
 This extraordinary, and, to our feeling, revolting system of 
 fraternal polyandry, combined with that of nunneries as a home 
 for the superfluous women, is common throughout Thibet, and all 
 regions where its language is spoken ; in other words, it is legally 
 recognised by many millions of the Turanian race, who find it ex¬ 
 pedient, both on account of the deep poverty of the sterile land, 
 which makes increase of population so undesirable, and also 
 because of the dangers and difficulties which would inevitably 
 surround any woman left alone in her remote home, during the 
 prolonged absences of her lord, whether he be engaged in traffic 
 or in the chase; whereas, in the case of two or more brothers, 
 owning but one fireside, it must be a rare occurrence when.both or 
 all are compelled to be absent at once. So it seems that something 
 may be said in defence of even so startling a social arrangement 
 as this, at least among races of so phelgmatic a temperament as 
 the Thibetans. 
 
 In this valley we saw goats employed as beasts of burden, 
 
TARTAR GOAT CARAVANS. 
 
 407 
 
 bringing the products of Thibet for barter in the lower lands. 
 These consist chiefly of wool and salt, the latter brought from the 
 “ salt-licks,” where it seems to ooze from the rocks on the high 
 steppes. 
 
 The goats go in large flocks, each being laden with a small pack 
 like two saddle-bags; each goat carrying eight seers (sixteen 
 pounds). A small child generally walks at the head of each flock, 
 its little dark shaven head being a curiosity in itself. Several goat¬ 
 herds are of course in charge, but so great is the trouble of 
 catching and loading a flock of perhaps a thousand goats, that they 
 are often not unloaded for two or three days and nights. The 
 long string winds its dangerous way among the crags, for many a 
 weary coss, and when at last they reach some quiet nook where 
 they may halt in safety—something as near akin to “green pas¬ 
 tures beside still waters,” as Himalayan valleys can yield — then 
 the flocks are turned adrift, the little black tents of camels’ hair 
 are pitched, the goods are stored under canvas, and the Tartar 
 encampment is complete. 
 
 The goats are generally the property of Ladakh merchants, a 
 curious-looking race with the jolliest good-tempered faces, always 
 ready for a laugh; a character borne out by their invariable 
 kindliness to whoever they have to do with. They have the 
 oblique eyes and flat features of China, with the most placid 
 countenances; and are robust and muscular. They are dirty 
 beyond description, with heads of rough hair never combed since 
 they were born. Some, however, remedy this by cropping their 
 hair like convicts, and wearing it about an inch long. The 
 women have, at some remote period, dressed theirs elaborately 
 in countless small plaits, generally all caught back together 
 and twisted into a thick pigtail, tipped with a woollen tassel. 
 Across the head from the forehead they invariably wear a 
 strip of dark cloth, incrusted with every jewel they can com¬ 
 mand, chiefly very large, coarse turquoises two or three 
 inches in diameter, and stuck on about an inch apart. This 
 hangs right down the back, the principal woman of the 
 party having invariably the largest gems. They sometimes 
 
IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 408 
 
 wear good strings of amber, together with the commonest 
 English beads. 
 
 We were told that their houses in Ladakh are generally 
 whitewashed, and coloured with broad bands of red, yellow, or 
 blue. It is curious that people caring thus to colour their homes 
 should dress so dingily. Men and women dress just alike, in 
 blouse and trousers of coarse woollen stuff; and jackets of divers 
 skins. The blouse, like that of the Paharis, is tied in at the 
 waist, and made to bag, so that the bosom becomes a convenient 
 receptacle foj all manner of treasures ; little balls of dough, made 
 of coarse flour; little packets of tea; a little wooden saucer, 
 tobacco, knives, string, bundles of wood, and small tobacco-pipes, 
 in form much like a common “cutty pipe.” A wooden spoon is 
 generally stuck in the girdle. The men, like the women, wear 
 necklaces, bracelets, and amulets ; chains of bright metal, and 
 ornamental boxes for flint and steel. Their shoes are of coarse 
 grey yarn, and soled with the same material, which gives the foot 
 a grip as though walking in stockings : (I noticed that our servants 
 from the plains, generally went barefoot on any difficult ground, 
 their smooth-soled slippers being ill-adapted for rough walking.) 
 
 Many of these merchants had come across immensely high 
 passes; sometimes through storm and snow. Even the Paharis 
 themselves suffer much from sickness and headache owing to 
 the rarified atmosphere of these high levels ; also from languor 
 and difficulty of breathing. They have great faith in certain 
 apricot cakes, which are supposed to be a good remedy. It 
 seems to be only men who suffer, as dogs and loaded sheep are 
 apparently happiest when nearest heaven. It seems, however, 
 that this oppression is not felt at so low an altitude as on Euro¬ 
 pean mountains. In the Alps, for instance, men say that they 
 can hardly breathe at 15,000 feet, while on these passes there 
 rarely seems any great difficulty even at 18,000. One gentleman 
 returning from Thibet told us he had felt no inconvenience 
 whatever at that height. 
 
 A similar difference seems to exist as to the limit of eternal 
 snow, which certainly is very much higher here than on the 
 
TIIE LIMIT OF ETERNAL SNOW. 
 
 409 
 
 Alps, where 8,885 feet is stated to be the average snow-line. 1 
 This is said to be subject to modifying influences, such as the 
 neighbourhood of much water, which should warm the atmo¬ 
 sphere. Yet here, where the vast mass of land with hardly any 
 water (certainly no lakes) would seem to demand a lower snow¬ 
 line, it is certainly very much higher. The level varies with 
 climate. Yet on the Himalayas the snow-line is calculated at 
 an average of 16,000 feet on the southern slopes, and 17,400 
 on the northern, the south being invariably, as we have seen, 
 the bleaker aspect, while the more sheltered north absorbs all 
 richness of vegetation. 
 
 As an example I may cite the wheat crops and other grains 
 which flourish in the neighbourhood of Dankar, the capital of 
 Spiti, which is situated 12,774 feet above the sea-level. Here 
 small willows and other stunted trees are the only foliage. 
 
 Among the chief inconveniences of which men complained on 
 these high passes were the excessive alternations of heat and 
 cold. Of course an atmosphere so rarified can hold but little 
 moisture, and the clear air allows the sun’s rays to strike with 
 very great heat during the day. This is succeeded by intensely 
 cold nights, and dew, of course, is almost unknown. Few travel¬ 
 lers start on such a journey without providing shelter for their 
 servants; but these, in any case, suffer very severely from cold, 
 
 1 The Alps in some places extend from the 44th to the 48th parallel of North 
 latitude, and the mass of the Himalayas from about the 27th to the 40th, a 
 difference in latitude which accounts for the higher snow-line. To any general 
 statement, however, concerning snow-lines, those of the Himalayas form a 
 striking exception. The line is about 4,000 feet higher on the north than on 
 the south side, owing to the greater depth of snow which falls on the south 
 side, and to the greater dryness of the climate of Thibet on the north, which 
 increases the evaporation and the heating power of the solar rays-, and to the 
 bare rocks and soil of the north absorbing more heat than the southern surfaces, 
 which are densely covered with vegetation. The immense range of the 
 Himalayas, which extends over more than 22 degrees of East longitude, forms 
 a screen which intercepts and condenses most of the moisture which the winds 
 carry up from the Indian Ocean and deposit on the southern face of the moun¬ 
 tains either in rain or snow, the quantity of rain measured at a considerable 
 altitude having been known to amount to 600 inches in a year. 
 
4 io 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in spite of hunting out the warmest nooks under the lee of big 
 stones, and building up earth-walls round their little tents. The 
 coolies lie curled up in their plaids, or croon over the big fire 
 which must be kept up for fear of stray bears. 
 
 White men and dark are alike subject to agonizing attacks of 
 snow-blindness, from the terrible glare and wind. It is said to 
 be positive torture ; though there is nothing like inflammation 
 of the eye : only a convulsive spasm causing the eyelid to close 
 involuntarily with such force as to press upon the pupil, which 
 seems to burn as though on fire, and the only relief is incessant 
 bathing in ice-water. This may continue for two or three days, 
 during which, if it is necessary to continue the march, the 
 sufferer has to be led by the hand, and goes tottering along in 
 blind agony. After a while the pain rapidly subsides, and the eye 
 generally seems none the worse. 
 
 I am told that the most efficacious of all preventives is simply 
 to take a burnt stick and blacken a large circle all round each eye. 
 How it acts, I cannot imagine, but it is said to be even more 
 efficacious than wearing spectacles of smoked glass. I should 
 incline to try both ! 
 
 Some of the gentlemen who returned from these high levels 
 gave us most tantalizing descriptions of their wild magnificence. 
 Their camping-ground had been, perhaps on some great moraine 
 on the verge of some mighty glacier, which, they said, seemed to 
 glimmer in the darkness with something like phosphoric light ; 
 its edges of clearest green, and its depths of an intensely deep 
 cobalt blue. All round them were piled stupendous masses of 
 black rock, heaped together in wild confusion, with pinnacles of 
 ice, and seas of mixed ice and snow, which, however, was too often 
 dirty and soiled with muddy earth, in fact rather a hideous 
 object. But there were deep fissures in the ice-cliffs, and dark 
 rocky ravines, half choked with great boulders of rock and frag¬ 
 ments of far-away hills, brought thither by the ever-moving 
 glaciers, in their slow, sure wanderings. 
 
 Of the distant views their praise was not so warm. Generally 
 they could see only the next ridge, or at best a sea of wavy 
 
DEODARS AT I’ANGf, 
 
ICE-PILLARS. 
 
 411 
 
 mountain ranges, just crested with billowy snows and glaciers, 
 so they comforted us by declaring the views we saw at our lower 
 levels were in reality far lovelier; an unction so flattering to the 
 soul of a bad walker that I tried hard to believe it: and to be 
 satisfied with our nine thousand feet, which was the average height 
 of our camping grounds. 
 
 There is one phase of that upper world which we would fain 
 have seen; when the ice-field is dotted all over with ice-pillars, 
 six or eight feet in height, about the thickness of a man’s body; 
 each supporting a great block of stone, much larger than itself, 
 as a capital; something like a huge mushroom-bed, or like some 
 marvellous Druids’ temple, with a thousand pillars. It is sup¬ 
 posed that these blocks have fallen on the ice-field when at a 
 much higher level, and that it has gradually melted down, save 
 where these, acting as a sun-shade, have sheltered the ice, and 
 so preserved these slender columns, which, however, are always 
 gradually melting, giving way at the base, where the sun’s rays 
 can strike soonest. Then new blocks fall, and repeat the process. 
 Sometimes a fresh avalanche sweeps down from above, and then 
 it may be long years before the ice-pillars are again formed, so 
 that the traveller who has climbed these heights on purpose to 
 behold the scene, described by others, may chance to find it all 
 buried deep beneath the snows. 1 
 
 Well, as we could not reach this wonderful ice-world, we con¬ 
 trived to be uncommonly happy at our humbler level, exploring all 
 manner of lovely nooks in cliff and forest. Nowhere did we find 
 more beautiful groups of gnarled old cedars than those clinging to 
 the face of the precipice at Rogi ;—the extraordinary richness of 
 colouring of those red stems and grey rocks, with many-coloured 
 lichens; the great, twisted roots, and weird, dead arms, are alike 
 
 1 Alin to these Himalayan ice columns are the stone-capped mud-columns 
 in the valley of Botzen in the Tyrol; where hundreds of such pillars, some 
 twenty, some fifty, and some a hundred feet high, are now standing. The 
 stone capitals brought there in bygone ages by the great ice-rivers, have pro¬ 
 tected the earth beneath them from the perpetual, perpendicular action of the 
 rains, which have washed away the soil from the rest of the valley. 
 
412 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 bleached pure white ; while here and there the storm has torn off 
 some great limb, revealing an intensity of orange that painter’s 
 brush can hardly imitate. Cadmium and burnt sienna are pale 
 before such cedar wood in sunlight. And then the intense 
 shadows from that dark foliage ! And beyond all, the hills and 
 deep valley in purple shadows and grey mist. 
 
 Our next march lay along the face of a stupendous precipice 
 ■—the Maizong cliff • a sheer fall of several thousand feet, declared 
 by the engineers to be probably the mightiest precipice in all the 
 Himalayas. After a couple of miles, the angle of the ground 
 allows cedars to find a hold, so our path lay in deep forest gloom. 
 Far below, we could catch glimpses of a whitish line, that was in 
 truth the boiling torrent whose voice mellowed as it rose through 
 the still air. 
 
 Suddenly, as we rounded a corner, we seemed to have entered 
 some other world. Before us lay the sweetest, greenest valley, 
 watered by sparkling brooks half hidden by tall bracken. 
 Meadows of rich grass were golden with large yellow buttercups, 
 and quiet, well-cultivated fields lay beyond. It was more like a 
 bit in Berkshire than anything else I know, with the addition of a 
 background of low Scotch hills. This is the Happy Valley of 
 Cheenee or Chini, as it is variously spelt. 
 
 Here, near a group of tall dark pines, stands a bungalow built 
 by Lord Dalhousie, who delighted in this place. Since he left 
 India it has been a refuge for all travellers, but has now been 
 allowed to fall to pieces for want of the simplest repairs, and is 
 used by the villagers as a stable for their cattle ! It really is in¬ 
 comprehensible that this pleasant house should have been allowed 
 to go to ruin ; one would rather have expected it to become the 
 nucleus of a European settlement, being one of the very few 
 places in these hills where nature offers room for house building. 
 Here is level land, good water, beautiful trees, a fine fall of ground 
 down to the Sutlej, allowing perfect drainage, and a climate 
 almost beyond the reach of the rains. 
 
 When I say these green meadows were suggestive only of 
 England, I speak of course of one half of the picture. The other 
 
/ 
 
 A WEDDING FEAST. 41 3 
 
 side remained unchanged ; there were the same huge terraces of 
 dark granite, the same ridges of crags and ice-cliffs, the same 
 wild barren expanse of desolate grandeur, and the same three 
 mountain-tops-—“ three silent pinnacles of aged snow ”—reaching 
 up to heaven. 
 
 I found a lovely halting-ground beneath a clump of apricot and 
 larger trees, and let my brown brothers go and amuse themselves 
 in the village. It was so delightful to wander by those tiny 
 rippling burns, gathering large marsh buttercups and fresh water- 
 cresses ; or in the hot noon to rest on some cool bank of fern and 
 moss looking up through the tremulous pale-green cloud to the 
 tender blue overhead ; or watch the dancing light reflected from 
 glossy leaves on to the white stems, which else were hidden in 
 shade. And ever and anon came a sound of flapping wings, an 
 undertone of murmurous hidden waters; 
 
 “ The song of bird and bee, 
 
 The chorus of the breezes, streams, and groves, 
 
 All the great music to which nature moves.” 
 
 Presently there came past me groups of laughing girls with 
 the musical voice so common among the Pahari women. They 
 were got up in their best, with sweet flowers in their hair; one of 
 them wore a vest of pure white linen, which was very unusual. 
 Her hair had just been done in countless fresh plaits, and twisted 
 with silver chains. Both she and her companions wore an unusual 
 number of silver ornaments, and all looked bright and pleasant. 
 I cannot imagine why these girls are so much better-looking than 
 the men. Some of them walk quite beautifully, with light, graceful 
 carriage. 
 
 These, I believe, were bound for some wedding festivities. 
 We were told that one dish at a Pahari wedding feast is roast 
 goat ; the goat having been sacrificed to the gods, has had his 
 head cut off at one blow. He is merely “gralloched,” 1 and is 
 then roasted without even being skinned. This nice dish is eaten 
 with ghee and sweetmeats. 
 
 1 Had the entrails removed. 
 
4 I 4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Three miles beyond Chini we came to Pangi, one of the most 
 picturesque of the very striking Himalayan villages; it seems 
 as if the people purposely selected the steepest precipices and 
 the most inaccessible cliffs, there to perch their eyrie. Here the 
 highest available point is crowned with a temple like a very large 
 chalet; thence all down the face of the hill the houses nestle 
 among apricot-trees and other foliage. Right above the river 
 one group of houses occupies the top of a projecting crag, with 
 the river boiling below. Surely these hill babies must need 
 double care from their guardian angels ! 
 
 This, I think, was quite the most beautiful spot where we had 
 yet been. The valley was more open, the expanse of snow wider, 
 the foreground more striking. One magnificent group of old 
 gnarled cedars overhung the path, and carried the palm over all 
 we had yet seen. Half a dozen stems each from fifteen to twenty- 
 five feet in circumference all started from one twisted mass of 
 roots which turned themselves snake-like in every crevice of the 
 rock face. A second great cedar close by, met the first overhead 
 and their branches interlaced, framing a beautiful mountain 
 torrent that rushed down through dark pine forest from a new 
 mass of snows that had just opened to our view. For we were 
 now in the heart of the snows, and white crests rose on every 
 side of us. 
 
 That cedar group gave me pleasant work for several days; 
 though sometimes it was rather awkward to “ dodge” the little 
 stones that rolled down the crag, and were uncomfortably suggestive 
 of larger ones in store, such as occasionally come crashing down 
 'from far up the mountain side, leaving the unhappy traveller whose 
 path they may cross short time for shrift. One such grievous 
 accident occurred at Simla, where four men of the Governor- 
 General’s band were crushed in a moment. Four brothers were 
 sitting together in a bullock-cart, which slowly toiled up the hill, 
 while the father and another brother walked on in front. Suddenly, 
 without a moment’s warning, an immense mass of earth fell from 
 the cliff right upon the cart, crushing the unlucky inmates and 
 breaking the leg of the driver. The bullocks escaped unhurt. It 
 
SNOWY RANGE FROM PANGI, THE VILLAGE ON THE CLIFF. 
 
DELIGHTS OF A GOOD OPERA-GLASS. 
 
 415 
 
 so happened that Lord Mayo and one of his staff were passing 
 within sound of the crash, and hastened up in time to help the 
 wretched father in extricating the bodies of his sons. 
 
 So you can imagine that on the whole I felt a good deal safer 
 when sitting under a large apricot-tree, drawing the village, to the 
 immense amusement of the inhabitants, whose acquaintance with 
 white women was very limited. My water-colours, paint-box, and 
 the growth of a sketch, were subjects of much interest; moreover 
 our watches delighted them exceedingly. They would listen with 
 astonishment, then as they moved off we could hear them repeat 
 “ tick-tick” to one another. 
 
 But the unfailing source of delight was my opera-glass, with which 
 they could explore some of the marvels of that icy world to which 
 no human foot might penetrate. And many a long hour’s solace 
 did this afford to the patient brownies, while they sat waiting 
 during the mysterious process of making pictures. In general these 
 were my sole companions from early dawn till they carried me back 
 to camp at night, and leal, kindly Highlanders they proved. 
 Sometimes they were of a musical turn, and their weird, monotonous 
 songs with abrupt endings reminded me strangely of those which 
 but a few months before were sung to us by the boatmen of the 
 Hebrides. This resemblance often struck me forcibly, when in the 
 evening a wild, wailing song rose from some of the temples, 
 recalling some old Gaelic psalm, till I almost fancied myself once 
 more on a brae-side in the bonnie north, instead of being in the 
 cool shadows of these spectral hills. 
 
 I use the word “ cool shadows” with good reason, for n where 
 are you more vividly conscious of the sun’s presence ; so long as 
 you are in the shade you feel almost chilly, as the cold breath from 
 those white snows blows upon you. Yet you could not move one 
 step into the sun without your thick sun-hat and white umbrella. 
 In sketching I always had a great umbrella pitched above that. 
 Then in good, thick, woollen clothes you might sit or walk just as 
 you would do in Scotland, and I must add that woollen under- 
 raiment is a matter of much more serious importance here than 
 on our own hills. I told you that all these women wear thick 
 
416 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 woollen materials with bright stripes. It so happened that my 
 last investment in Skye had been in a fishwife’s petticoat of many 
 colours. This greatly took the fancy of these people, and I 
 constantly noticed them quietly take up a corner and feel it, and 
 then discuss it among themselves, so perhaps the Pahari weavers 
 have adopted a new thing in stripes a FEcossciise. 
 
 coolie's tinder-box, full size. 
 
 After the cringing manner of the natives of the plain there is 
 something very pleasant in the frank, cheery way these people come 
 up to you ; not caring to conceal their wonder and interest at the 
 curious and almost unknown variety of the species that has come 
 among them : they show you their ornaments and inspect yours 
 with such endless amusement. 
 
 We tried to persuade some of them to sell us their amulets 
 and curiously wrought knives, but without success. They had no 
 objection, however, to sell us tinder-boxes of curious patterns, 
 
HIMALAYAN-CELTIC BROOCH. 
 
 417 
 
 and a considerable variety of the brass brooches with which every 
 girl, however poor, fastens her plaid. These vary from three to 
 eight inches in diameter. The actual brooch, and very peculiar 
 pin, are of precisely the old Celtic pattern as worn in Scotland 
 and Algeria, and as dug up in Irish turf-bogs. But the simple 
 old form has been adapted to Oriental taste by the addition of 
 two elaborate circular wings, so that the form of the ornament is 
 
 HIMALAYAN BROOCH. 
 
 now a trefoil. To the brooch is attached a brass chain with sharp 
 hook, which catches the plaid on the shoulder for additional 
 security, and I am told that some of the old Scotch brooches 
 have the very same. These brooches fasten the heavy plaid of 
 striped colours, very much like those worn in our own Highlands, 
 and caught in precisely similar folds. It certainly is curious that 
 the Celts of Scotland, the Khabyles of Algeria, and these Paharis 
 of the far East, should fasten their striped woollen laiment with the 
 
 E E 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 418 
 
 same very peculiar brooch. But here, the belted plaid leaves one 
 shoulder and arm bare, showing heavy metal bracelets. 
 
 The writers’ inkhorns are also curious. They are made of 
 wrought silver or brass, and have a bottle fastened alongside of 
 a case to hold pens or reeds. They are worn in the belt like a 
 dagger, just like those alluded to by Ezekiel 1 when addressing 
 the children of Israel in the Babylonian captivity—that captivity 
 whence they never returned. So possibly if there be any truth in 
 the theory that some of the lost tribes did find a refuge in the 
 mountains of India, they may have brought these inkhorns with 
 them, as well as those more curious eastern customs we have 
 already noticed. 
 
 We had now got fairly beyond the influence of the rains, and 
 if only “leave” had permitted us to linger, we might have re¬ 
 mained in this paradise with the blissful consciousness that not 
 one drop of rain could come near us. As we looked down the 
 valley whence we had come, the dark lowering clouds told very 
 plainly what a wet world lay there, while we were revelling in 
 unchanging sunshine. Just imagine the artistic delight of return¬ 
 ing day after day to your sketching-ground with the certainty 
 of seeing just the same light you saw yesterday and the day 
 before that ! 
 
 If I had not far to go and so could dispense with bearers, a 
 nice, venerable-looking old man was always on the look-out to 
 carry my goods; then he would ensconce himself as watchdog 
 under some fine old tree. One day I was conscious that a third 
 person had joined us. Struck by the unwonted silence I looked 
 up to see a study worthy of Murillo. A strikingly handsome girl, 
 with clear, olive complexion just flushed with pink, and large, 
 pensive, brown eyes with silken fringe, sat under a great apricot 
 tree. The venerable old head rested on her knee while she 
 pursued most successful entomological researches in the elf locks, 
 just as in the old ballads, the unkempt warriors, returned from 
 their forays, laid their heads on the lap of some fair princess, 
 who doubtless performed the same kind office, while the knight 
 1 Ez. ix. 2, 3, 11. 
 
IN THE GRAPE COUNTRY. 
 
 419 
 
 recounted his adventures ! In the present instance the old 
 patriarch was too happy for words, but lay still in the cool shade, 
 lazily cracking apricot-stones with an expression of serene enjoy¬ 
 ment. Just imagine my feelings ! But there was no use in being 
 disgusted, it was as natural a part of village toilette as the work 
 of the barber in the plains ; and one which we constantly saw 
 being quietly performed on the open balconies for the edification 
 of all passers by—girls thus tended their lovers, and mothers their 
 children, and as Paddy observed on the subject of picking up wee 
 beasties, “indeed there was no question of picking—he just took 
 them as they came ! ” 
 
 Sometimes where a tame monkey forms part of the establish¬ 
 ment it is considered immensely amusing to let him sit on 
 the shoulder of one of the family diligently seeking for hidden 
 treasures. The creature beats his preserves with the same neat¬ 
 ness and regularity that you may observe any day in the zoological 
 gardens, but I must say he keeps his own hair a good deal neater 
 than the tangled unkempt jungle provided for him by his human 
 descendants. 
 
 We were now in the grape country; and from about this point, 
 and up the valley, vines are extensively cultivated, chiefly, I 
 believe, near the river banks, for we did not see very many 
 vineyards, though some of the houses were half covered with the 
 graceful trailer. About a month later when the fruit is ripe, you 
 may buy a whole kilter full, that is, a basket like a gigantic 
 strawberry pottle, two feet high, for sixpence. This, you must 
 allow was an additional reason to regret being compelled to turn 
 away from this laughing valley. We were also struck by the 
 quantity of mistletoe growing on the wild apricot-trees. Just the 
 common English plant reverenced by our ancestors. 
 
 As to animal life, I have already stated that our attention was 
 not distracted by its abundance. One bear and a few pheasants 
 and partridges of divers sorts were all that rewarded the gentle¬ 
 men for many and toilsome expeditions. And for my own part 
 I saw only two silvery hill-foxes, a number of black ants fully 
 three-quarters of an inch long, and a couple of snakes. 
 
 e e 2 
 
420 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Amongst the domestic animals, however, you may here see the 
 yak, which is a most precious addition to the herds of the h 11 
 people. There was much joking going on, about an Englishman 
 who had recently stalked and shot one of these tame cows to 
 his own immense satisfaction, which, however, was sorely damped 
 on finding himself compelled to pay heavy damages for his 
 sport ! 
 
 This little Ox of Thibet is a very precious possession in such a 
 country as this. He is short and thickset, like our Highland 
 cattle, and covered all over from his nostril to his tail with long 
 shaggy hair, 1 perhaps I should rather call it wool, which all but 
 touches the ground, and which when cleaned is soft and silky, and 
 spins remarkably well. It is familiar to us in Europe in its 
 manufactured form as yak lace. The hair becomes thicker and 
 longer, and the creature larger, that is, as tall as fourteen hands, 
 on the high table-lands of Thibet. Its natural home being in a 
 climate so severe, and where pasture is so scanty, it seems to be 
 altogether indifferent to both, and is therefore an invaluable beast 
 of burden; as it will carry the heaviest loads across the most 
 inaccessible passes quite regardless of paths, content to pick up the 
 scantiest and foulest fare. 
 
 Nevertheless the little yak cows yield an abundant supply of the 
 very richest milk, thick and creamy, and producing just twice 
 as much butter as the common cow of our dairies, also excellent 
 cheese. The butter is rather hard, but if the milk of the yak is 
 mixed with that of the common cow in equal parts, the result is 
 highly satisfactory. Various experiments of this sort have been 
 tried at the dairy farms in the Vosges, where the little yak has 
 been successively acclimatised. In India it does not seem to thrive 
 at a lower level than 9,000 feet. Here, as in the plains, the 
 cowherds declare that the cows will not yield their milk unless the 
 calf be present. So that if the calf be dead, they either give the 
 
 1 It is somewhat remarkable that both the appearance and the name of this 
 shaggy Bull-horse should bear so strong a resemblance to the common descrip¬ 
 tion of the mysterious water-bulls and water-horses of the Celts, the dread 
 Yak-Urisk. 
 
THE YAK. 
 
 421 
 
 mother its little foot to lick, or else have its skin stuffed with 
 straw; in short, it is precisely the “Tulchan” in which our Scotch 
 dairymaids used to place such implicit faith. The yak is of divers 
 colours, but generally black and white; the length of its wool 
 increases so much on the higher levels as sometimes to trail on the 
 ground. 
 
 As a beast of burden it is slow, but wonderfully sure of foot, 
 picking its way in perfect safety over the very roughest ground. 
 Sometimes when a difficulty arises about getting coolies, a tra¬ 
 veller is supplied with quite a little herd of these, which carry his 
 tents, his goods, and even himself if he so wills it. The only 
 objection to riding one of a herd is that his social instincts 
 draw him so close to his fellows that he may bring you into 
 undesirable proximity to tent-poles and cooking-pots. The shaggy 
 little creature has the broad hump peculiar to Indian cattle, 
 and which doubtless, like that of the camel, is nature’s provision 
 for times of scarcity, affording a storehouse of fat on which to draw, 
 when other food fails. Instead of lowing like other cattle, its 
 conversational powers are limited to an almost inaudible grunt, 
 which to a creature so gregarious must really be very trying. 
 Perhaps this accounts for his anxiety to walk close to his com¬ 
 panions. Hence his scientific name, Bos grunnuns. 
 
 It is the tail of this creature which is so common on the plains 
 of India, as the chowrie, wherewith to drive away flies, and 
 ornament horses and elephants. Its horns are short and massive, 
 beautifully curved and pointing forward. 
 
 So this curious little cow, with a horse’s tail and sheep’s wool, 
 combines the properties of all three animals. It finds its own 
 scanty food, yet yields the richest milk. To the plough it brings 
 the strength of an ox. It clothes its master in silky and abundant 
 wool, while to a beef-eating people it would also supply meat and 
 leather. So it may well be prized by these poor highlanders. 
 
 More surefooted than the surest pony, it carries its load or its 
 rider along pathless mountains, and is most at home on the highest 
 passes. The only point where it fails is in climbing very steep 
 broken ground, where climbing from rock to rock is necessary. 
 
422 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Here its very short legs are a serious obstacle, and riders find it 
 necessary to dismount. 
 
 At Pangi we lingered for a happy fortnight. Arriving as total 
 strangers, we received a cordial welcome from the “ Road Sahib,” 
 Mr. Leupolt, whose wife and child had made their summer home 
 in this paradise. Instead of pitching our tents, therefore, they 
 made us share their house. Other little white tents, however, 
 soon appeared on the morsel of artificially levelled ground close 
 by, occasionally without even going through the courteous form 
 of asking leave, or making the smallest acknowledgment to the 
 inhabitants of the bungalow, who, however, were invariably ready 
 to show their hospitality to all comers. Several parties of gentle¬ 
 men arrived on their way to or from various mountain passes, 
 such as the Rupin Pass, the Buspa and Sangla Valleys, Thibet, 
 and other places. So we got tidings from the wilds: and tidings 
 too from the civilised world, for even here the daily post came in 
 with as much regularity as in Simla itself. 
 
■ 
 
 A PEEP INTO CHINESE TARTARY. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A PEEP INTO CHINESE TARTARY. 
 
 Prayer-Wheels of all Sizes—Water-wheels—Village Wheels—Thibetan 
 Genealogy—Tartar Funerals—Edible Pine—Crossing the Sutlej by a 
 Rope Bridge—A Pleasant Home in the Wilderness—A Deserted Village— 
 Flying Squirrel—A Glorious Forest—Felling Timber under Difficulties. 
 
 One march more brought us to our farthest point, at Rarung. 
 Beyond this there was no road, and though I believe a dandie can 
 be carried wherever a man can walk, there was no particular object 
 in pressing on farther; at least so we were told, and so, at the 
 moment, being entranced with the loveliness of the spot where 
 our tents were pitched, we were content to believe. Of course, 
 as soon as you get home again you begin crying over your “ spilt 
 milk,” and feel convinced that if only your last grain of energy 
 had not failed you, you might have seen something more beautiful 
 than all else. It is vain to say that “ what the eye sees not the 
 heart rues not.” In your secret heart you believe that that gorge 
 in the far-away, forest, that crystal stream which you might so 
 easily have traced to its parent glacier, that ruined city, which at 
 the moment you assumed must be just like all the others, and so 
 passed by, would in truth have eclipsed all that you did see, and 
 have become to you a joy for ever. So the wanderer is never 
 satisfied. At all events, we had the childish joy of having got 
 “ the best for the last,” for indeed the loveliness of this place 
 exceeded even that of Pangi. Whichever way we looked the 
 beauty was the same. In every direction snows, huge hills, 
 
4 2 4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 mixed foliage, and rushing water. Close behind us a grand 
 expanse of cedar forest, and far up the valley a shapely group 
 of snow-peaks, which we were told were to be our only glimpse of 
 Chinese Tartary. 
 
 A very few miles more would have taken us right into that land 
 of Hue and Gabet, but we should no longer have been travelling 
 under British protection, and might have met with divers diffi¬ 
 culties. So although we were now fairly in the country of the 
 
 POCKET PRAYER-WHEEL. 
 
 Lamas, that is to say, the Buddhists, we never even saw one of 
 the great Buddhist monasteries of which we heard so much, but 
 what did strike us as very strange was, every now and again to 
 meet respectable-looking hill-men, twirling little brass cylinders, 
 only about eight inches long, which they were incessantly spinning 
 round and round as they walked along the road. What these 
 toys were, we could not at first make out, till it was explained to 
 
FOCKET PRAYER-WHEELS. 
 
 425 
 
 us that they were prayer-wheels, and that turning them was just 
 about equivalent to the telling of beads, which in Christian lands 
 we have sometimes seen devout Catholic workmen counting as 
 they go forth to their morning’s toil, or wend their homeward way 
 at eventide. 
 
 But if we think the telling of beads a somewhat mechanical 
 piece of formalism, just imagine finding all the adoration of a 
 whole village being ground by machinery like so much corn ! 
 These ascriptions of praise to Buddha (they are not supposed to 
 be prayers, those being unnecessary) are all closely written on 
 strips of cloth or paper, the same sentence repeated many 
 thousands of times. These are closely rolled round a spindle 
 of which one end forms the handle. The upper end is inclosed 
 in a metal cylinder on which also the sacred words appear in 
 embossed characters. From the middle of the cylinder hangs a 
 small lump of metal, which whirls round, and gives the necessary 
 impetus to the little machine, so that it twirls with the slightest 
 exertion, and goes on grinding any given number of meritorious 
 acts of worship, while the owner, carrying this pretty little plaything 
 in his hand, goes about his daily work. 
 
 Of course his mind otiglit to be absorbed all the time in quiet 
 meditation on the perfections of Buddha, but that would be too 
 much to expect from a busy, working man, so he says the sentences 
 aloud at the beginning and end of his devotions, and in the mean¬ 
 time twirls slowly, while a tiny bell marks each revolution and 
 reminds him if he is unconsciously going too fast. 
 
 There is one who speaks of prayer, as that whereby 
 
 . . . “ the whole round world is every way 
 
 Bound by gold chains around the feet of GoJ.” 1 
 
 But such material metallic links as these gold, brass, or coppet 
 cylinders are indeed strange ties to bind earth to heaven ! 
 
 Some of these little pocket cylinders are very beautifully 
 wrought; some are even inlaid with precious stones. I saw one 
 great beauty which I coveted exceedingly. The owner would on 
 no account sell it. I returned to the temple next morning, 
 
426 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 wishing at least to make a drawing of it, but I think he mis¬ 
 trusted me, for he and his plaything had both vanished, and 
 I had to be content with a much simpler one of bronze, inlaid 
 with copper. 
 
 The people have the greatest reluctance to sell even the ugliest 
 old mills. They cling to them as lovingly as you might do to 
 your dear old Bible; not merely from the charm of association, 
 but from a dread lest a careless hand should turn them against the 
 sun, and so change their past acts of merit into positive sin. So 
 there was a great deal of talk, and many irons in the fire, before I 
 w r as allowed to purchase two of these, at a price which would have 
 supplied half the village with new ones. 
 
 One of these was procured for me, and sent, together with a 
 copy of St. John’s gospel in Thibetan, by Mr. Paged, the Moravian 
 Missionary at Poo, far in the interior—a green oasis surrounded 
 by bare rocky hills—a wild desolate region, where he and his wife 
 have for many years devoted their lives to the almost vain attempt 
 to Christianise their neighbours; their labours being attended with 
 the usual discouragement, and their earnest endeavours to teach 
 others resulting in a very small handful of converts. Neverthe¬ 
 less, they are content, for their work’s sake, to remain in exile, 
 very rarely seeing even one white face ; and that only when some 
 stray sportsman wanders so far into the wilds. 
 
 During their twenty years’ residence, i.e. till 1881, only three 
 white ladies have found their way to this remote station. Once 
 in two years Mr. Paged travels to Simla, there to lay in needful 
 stores, and exchange ideas with his fellows. Imagine, in so solitary 
 a life, the trial of having to part with their son, their only child, 
 when it became necessary to send him to Europe for education 1 
 
 Mr. Paged told me that the mid he had procured for me con¬ 
 tained a strip of paper, on which was written a short, but very 
 comprehensive prayer in Thibetan; a prayer for the six classes of 
 living creatures, namely, the souls in heaven, the evil spirits in the 
 air, men, animals, souls in purgatory, and souls in hell. 
 
 But as a general rule, ad worship begins, continues, and ends, 
 with one unvarying sentence, Om Mani Padme Houm. These 
 
THE SIX-SYLLABLED CHARM. 
 
 427 
 
 words are known as the six-syllabled charm. As I have just said, 
 they are raised in embossed letters outside the cylinder, and are 
 closely written, perhaps many thousand times, on strips of paper 
 inside. They are engraved all over sacred places—on the face of 
 the rocks — on the walls of the temple—in one great monastery in 
 Ladakh the wall is literally covered with these words of sacred 
 mystic import, ascribing perpetual adoration to Buddha, as the 
 Jewel on the Lotus, in reference to his lotus-throne ; 1 that is to 
 say, the pattern symbolical of the lotus or water-lily with which his 
 throne is always adorned, and which is supposed to convey the 
 same idea as that suggested by the words, “ The Lord sitteth 
 upon the flood, yea, the Lord sitteth King for ever.” 
 
 The literal meaning of the sentence is as follows : A.U.M. or 
 Om equivalent to the Hebrew Jah, the holiest and most glorious 
 title of the Almighty; Mani, the Jewel, one of Buddha’s titles ; 
 Padme, the Lotus; PIoum, equivalent to Amen. This “ six- 
 syllabled charm,” is the sovereign balm for every conceivable evil. 
 
 Some Buddhist sects vary this magic sentence. Those of China 
 and Japan substituted the reiteration of the Sanskrit name of the 
 Buddha for whose coming they now look, Amitabha Buddha. But 
 somehow the original form of the invocation has been lost by 
 priests and people to whom Sanskrit is an unknown dead 
 language, so the unvarying refrain of all Buddhist worship in 
 Japan is Namu Atnida Butzu, which is rendered, “Save us, O 
 Buddha ! ” 
 
 In China where the name of Buddha becomes transformed into 
 
 1 As an instance of how literally Brahmanism has adopted the symbols of 
 Buddhism I may cite a sample of Benares brass-work, a small but most com¬ 
 prehensive compendium of symbolism. The sacred bull of Siva bears on its 
 back a lotus blossom, whose petals opening reveal, enthroned within it, a small 
 oviform pebble.* The sacred blossom is overshadowed by a hooded cobra, 
 holding a minute brass water-vessel, so perforated as to allow one drop to fall 
 from time to time on “the jewel in the lotus.” Here Hindooism has appro¬ 
 priated not only the lotus-throne, but also the cobra canopy, which generally 
 overshadows the images of Buddha. 
 
 * For reference to sacred symbolic pebbles ; see chapter xxi. 
 
428 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Fu or Fo, the millions of Fo-ists repeat the name Ommi-to-fu in 
 endless chorus. Every devout Fo-ist desires to utter these charmed 
 
 PRAYER-WHEEL. 
 
 words at least three hundred thousand times 1 in the course of his 
 life. To this end, many of their priests shut themselves up in the 
 
 1 Buddhism does not monopolise vain repetitions. We find them in all 
 faiths. In India, the worshippers both of Siva and Vishnu accumulate merits 
 and secure admission to heaven by merely reiterating their sacred names. One 
 votary of Krishna devoted his life to the daily utterance 300,000 times of the 
 name of Hari, the Sun-god. Another was promised a vision of Vishnu when 
 he should have repeated one text 800,000 times. After three months’ hard labour 
 he completed his task, but with no result, whereupon the Brahman teacher told 
 him that he must have made some slip in one repetition, which would invalidate 
 the whole, and advised him to begin again 1 
 
MECHANICAL WORSHIP. 
 
 429 
 
 temples for months together, with no other occupation than that of 
 repeating these words over and over again, day and night. Some¬ 
 times ten or twelve devotees will .thus voluntarily imprison them¬ 
 selves, and continue all day shouting the holy name in chorus, 
 while at night they take it by turns, and one party keeps up the 
 weary, monotonous chaunt while the others sleep. Those who 
 have undertaken this means of heaping up merit must never leave 
 their cell for any purpose whatever, till the appointed period is 
 ended, but sit immovably, incessantly jabbering their idiotic song, 
 with vacant faces. 
 
 Nor are the laity slow to practise this simple method of laying 
 up treasure for eternity. As they go about their daily business, 
 the same words are for ever on their lips. The devout and the 
 aged carry strings of beads, whereon they instinctively count their 
 reiterations of the life-insuring spells, and while they speak to 
 you, or to one another, on all manner of secular subjects, between 
 each sentence comes a low murmur Om-mi-to-fuh ! Then as they 
 pass away down the street, still you see their lips moving, and you 
 know that they are still whispering the unvarying ascription of 
 praise to Buddha, Om-mi-to-fuh ! Om-mi-to-fuh ! 
 
 That first word Om is said to have been the holy and mystical 
 name of God amongst the ancient Celts. Here in the East, it is 
 precious alike to all sects, for while the Buddhists reiterate it as 
 their one infallible charm, and sculpture it on all holy places, the 
 Brahmans esteem it so holy that they will not utter it aloud; while 
 the Jains, laying the hand upon the mouth, whisper it in deepest 
 reverence. 
 
 Thus finding the same sacred word in use at the opposite ends 
 of the world, suggests a link which carries us far back, from the 
 ceremonies of the Buddhist, working his little charm, to some 
 remote age when these dead customs were all instinct with life, 
 and were to the worshippers merely symbols of some grand reality, 
 well known to them all. That reality was once probably em¬ 
 bodied in the worship of the revolving sun ; accepted by so many 
 nations either as God, or as the representative of the Almighty 
 Creator. 
 
430 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Hence the intensely strong feeling in favour of always following 
 the course of the sun;—that term Deisul of which we find so 
 many traces still lingering in our own Highlands, 1 and which 
 here, in India, crops up at every turn. As we there noticed the 
 old custom of walking sunwise round people, cattle, houses, or 
 chapels, so here we find the people making Deisul processions 
 round their temples, leading their flocks sunwise round their 
 villages, dancing sunwise round their idols, and turning the mani 
 (prayer-mill) in the same course. 
 
 Very early in the world’s history, a revolving wheel of light 
 came to be reverenced as the symbol of the Sun-god. Such an 
 one was turned as an act of worship in the temples of the Greeks, 
 who derived the custom from the still more ancient Egyptians. 
 The Scandinavians represent their god of time, “the Seater,” as 
 holding a wheel in one hand, and flowers in the other. And the 
 image of the Saxon Sun-god has also a wheel of fire. 
 
 The same idea is said to attach to the wheels of the car of 
 Jagannath, and similar idol cars, common throughout India, which 
 once a year are drawn forth, and perform a solemn circuit, sup¬ 
 posed to be symbolical of the course of the sun. 2 
 
 1 See In the Hebrides , C. F. Gordon Cumming. Chatto and Windus. 
 
 2 That this really was the original meaning attached to this ceremony is 
 plainly proved by the season at which the great car festival occurs, namely, 
 Midsummer, the very worst period which could possibly be imagined for a 
 pilgrimage, and one which even Hindoo obstinacy would surely alter were it 
 not acting in obedience to the sun’s fixed laws. It is the season when its most 
 burning rays alternate with such floods of rain as make the land wholly unfit 
 for prolonged travel, and yet these devoted worshippers start year after year on 
 the journey that must occupy many weeks, and on which at least ten thousand 
 of their number, and sometimes a very much larger proportion, perish miser¬ 
 ably from exhaustion and exposure to the inclement weather. This, remember, 
 is in a land where every variation of weather can be foretold with the utmost 
 certainty, and consequently nothing but a steadfast determination to do honour 
 to Midsummer could account for the selection of such a season. 
 
 We all know the picture of those three huge towers, the principal of which 
 is forty-five feet high and thirty-five feet square, and roils on sixteen great 
 wheels, each measuring thirteen feet in diameter, which form the cars whereon 
 “The Lord of the World” and his fellow idols sit enthroned, as they are 
 dragged over the bodies of prostrate worshippers,—a form of self-immolation 
 
TIIE SYMBOLIC WHEEL. 
 
 431 
 
 You must bear in mind that Jagannath is only another name 
 for Vishnu, the All-Preserver, who, in another incarnation, is 
 worshipped as Krishna, the Sun-god. The temples of Vishnu 
 are almost invariably marked by a mystic wheel, generally crown¬ 
 ing the spire, just as the temples of Siva are marked by the 
 trident. Moreover, Vishnu is represented holding a wheel in one 
 of his four hands. And the same sacred symbol is stamped on 
 the breast and arms of his worshippers, with a golden brand. 
 
 ANCIENT SCULPTURE SHOWING THE WHEEL AS THE OBJECT OF WORSHIP. 
 
 The wheel being thus recognised as the symbol of supreme 
 good, it was natural that it should be adopted by the early disciples 
 of Buddha as the emblem of their master, who is accordingly 
 
 which, by the way, is now proved to be of the very rarest occurrence, and 
 indeed is wholly unauthorised, as this beneficent god protects all living creatures 
 and rejects all animal sacrifices. Though his vast temple at Orissa is that best 
 known to us. from its superior sanctity, there is scarcely a village in Bengal 
 without its car of Jagannath. Dr. Duff says that in Calcutta and its neigh 
 bourhood there are scores of them, varying in size from a few feet up to thirty 
 or forty feet in height, and on the day of the great car festival—that is to say, 
 at Midsummer—all these are brought forth, in the most remote districts and 
 cities and villages, that the myriads who cannot have the privilege of a pilgrim¬ 
 age to Cuttack may nevertheless behold the same mystic circuit performed. 
 
432 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 reverenced as the Tchakravarta Rajah, or King of the Wheel. 
 Thus it is, that in some of the most ancient Buddhist sculptures 
 at the Bilsah and Sanchi topes in central India, Buddha is repre¬ 
 sented simply by a wheel, overshadowed by a golden umbrella, 
 which is a common emblem of his power. His worshippers are 
 represented as making their offerings to this symbolic wheel. 
 The same sacred emblem is found again and again among the 
 Jain and Buddhist sculptures in the Caves of Ellora and Ajunta, 
 in most cases projecting in front of Buddha’s lotus-throne. In 
 one instance an astronomical table is carved above the wheel. 
 In another it is supported on either side by a stag, supposed to 
 represent the fleetness wherewith the sun runs his daily circuit. 
 Others again show the wheel supported by kneeling elephants. 
 
 When, therefore, it came to be accounted an act of merit 
 merely to turn over the pages whereon holy words were inscribed, 
 the adaptation of the already sacred wheel to this purpose might 
 very naturally present itself, and the necessity of invariably turning 
 it sunwise would follow as a matter of course. 
 
 The Buddhists trace back the use of these wheels, or rather 
 barrels, for at least 1,400 years, and believe them to have originated 
 from the notion that it is an act of merit, and an efficacious cure 
 of sin to be for ever reading or reciting portions of the sacred 
 writings of Buddha. But as many of the people could not read, 
 it came to be considered sufficient to turn over the rolled manu¬ 
 scripts containing the precious precepts. This convenient sub¬ 
 stitute was found to save so much time and trouble, that the 
 custom rapidly spread, and the action was further simplified by 
 the invention of wheels known as Tchu-Chor —great egg-shaped 
 barrels full of prayers ; a cord being attached to the base of the 
 barrel, which on being pulled, sets the cylinder twirling like a 
 child’s whirligig. 
 
 These are set up in all public places in Thibet, so that the poor, 
 who do not possess such luxuries as little pocket Wheels of 
 Devotion, may not lose their chance of thus heaping up merit; or, 
 as our friends in the Emerald Isle express it, “ making their souls.” 
 They are erected at the doors of dwelling-houses, that every man 
 
ROCK-HEWN PRAISES. 
 
 433 
 
 going in or out may set them spinning for his own benefit and that 
 of the inmates, and in some of the Lama monasteries there are 
 many rows of such cylinders, about one foot in height, so con¬ 
 veniently arranged, and so lightly poised, that the most casual 
 passer-by could scarcely abstain from running his hand along 
 them, and so set them all spinning diligently, weaving “ a garment 
 of praise ” for the behoof of him who set them to work. 
 
 Only think what a benefit it would be to the annoying little 
 boys in London, who will rattle sticks all along the area rails, as 
 they run along the street, if only the said rails responded by 
 jotting down in their favour a score of acts of merit ! 
 
 In the case of the great terraces on which devout persons have 
 laid innumerable stone slabs, each inscribed with the charmed 
 words, merit must be acquired by walking round them in sunwise 
 circuit. Some of these Mutt is, as they are called, are half a mile in 
 length, one near the town of Leh is a mile long. They are gene¬ 
 rally about ten feet in width and the same in height. They are 
 erected at intervals of from two to eight miles, along the principal 
 thoroughfares in Thibet, and the road is invariably led on each 
 side of them, so that the traveller may pass them on one side in 
 going and on the other in returning on his way. 
 
 In this case, however, as also in turning the barrels of Praise, I 
 believe that the direction to be followed has reference to the 
 sacred words written and engraven on barrel or terrace, as it is 
 necessary that the characters forming the holy phrase should pass 
 in proper order before the eyes of the person turning. So as all 
 oriental books are read from the right hand of the last page, 
 towards the left, this direction must be followed in walking round 
 the great terraces and other buildings on which the holy words are 
 inscribed, thus keeping his left hand towards the object round 
 which he is walking. Happily .a doubly satisfactory result is thus 
 produced, as the merits of the sunwise turn are thus combined 
 with the reverential homage due to the six-syllabled charm. 1 
 
 1 I am told that Buddhism has now made its way farther down the Kunawar 
 valley, and that a small terrace covered with the six-syllabled charm is to be 
 seen in a ravine between Nachar and Tarunda. 
 
 F F 
 
434 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 It is not only on these terraces that the mystic words are 
 engraven. Near the town of Ladakh there are in every direction 
 great cairns of slates and slabs, all bearing the same inscription, 
 and in every village, and by every road-side it meets the wayfarer, 
 sometimes roughly hewn on the rock, sometimes elaborately carved, 
 sometimes coloured, in characters varying from a couple of inches 
 
 WATER PRAISE-WHEELS. 
 
 to half a yard in height. The cylinders likewise vary in size, from 
 the little hand-barrels the size of a policeman’s rattle, to huge vats 
 perhaps fifteen feet in height by ten in diameter, co-operative casks 
 wherein is stored the mead of praise, which (at the touch of a 
 heavy iron crank) flows forth for the benefit of a whole district! I 
 have been told that in some of the monasteries at Ladakh a 
 mechanical arrangement like a clock is so contrived as to make a 
 
RIVAL TEMPLES. 435 
 
 number of these cylinders revolve, by means of a system of heavy 
 weights which are wound up at sunrise and sunset. 
 
 But far more ingenious, and I may say poetic, is the device 
 which has enlisted the breeze and the mountain streams in multi¬ 
 plying a never-ceasing silent benedicite, ceaseless ascriptions of 
 praise whereby the villagers acquire unlimited stores of merit 
 without any trouble save the preliminary labour of erecting wind 
 or water-wheels. In the latter, the cylinders containing the mystic 
 words are placed upright in a shed, built over running water. A 
 spindle passing through each terminates in a horizontal wheel, 
 having the cogs turned diagonally to the water. These wheels 
 rotate with the action of the running stream, and so turn the 
 cylinder. Sometimes several of these are placed abreast across 
 the stream, the rudest form of cedar-wood temple being built to 
 support and shelter them. 
 
 The wind-wheels are so constructed as to rotate obedient to the 
 action of fan-like wings, these also being inscribed with the sacred 
 words. 
 
 Another form in which the winds do duty may be seen at 
 Darjeeling, where there is an important Lama temple and a large 
 prayer-wheel. Here ceaseless ascriptions of praise are offered on 
 behalf of the dead, whose names, together with the mystic words, 
 are inscribed on flags of great length, and only about four feet in 
 width. These streamers are affixed to lofty poles, and as they 
 flutter in the breeze they are accounted to be offering praise in the 
 name of the dead. Similarly inscribed flags flutter from many a 
 cairn on the lonely mountain passes. 
 
 Close below the little green spot where we had pitched our 
 tents stood a Lama temple, and beyond that, on a crag over¬ 
 hanging the river, was perched the village, in the middle of which 
 stood the Hindoo temple, for even this little spot in the depths of 
 these glorious hills had its religious dissensions, and its divers 
 paths in search of the unknown. So the earliest stillness of dawn, 
 and the hush of evening were alike disturbed by bells, horns, and 
 trumpets calling the people to worship in one temple or the other, 
 or else to do homage to the Khuda, that Is, the tabernacle in 
 
 F F 2 
 
43*5 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 which the veiled image of Durga is daily carried out for an airing 
 in her curious, closely-curtained ark, similar to those of which I 
 have already told you—an ark set on long poles or staves, and 
 carried by two priests, one of whom always walks backwards, and 
 into which no one save the priest is allowed to look. 
 
 Whenever the Khuda was carried past it was always surrounded 
 by a large number of the villagers, playing on divers instruments, 
 and leaping and dancing. I suppose this temple is wealthy, for the 
 metal faces which are always set round the box seemed to me to be 
 of silver, instead of the usual brass, as was also the large head 
 
 DEVI AT BALAH ON THE GANGES. 
 
 surmounted with a tuft of yak’s tails on the top, while lower down 
 hung the usual fringe of long silky yak’s tails, almost sweeping the 
 ground as the ark was carried along. 
 
 What with Buddhist prayer-wheel and Hindoo ark, we found 
 ample interest in the religious peculiarities of our neighbours, but 
 the Lama temple was the height of attraction, as being the greatest 
 novelty, and the old Bonze (priest) always gave us a cordial welcome, 
 and doubtless looked at us with equal curiosity, we being the first 
 British women who had found our way so far by this route. Of course 
 we were equally objects of inquisitive interest to all the villagers, 
 
BUDDHIST PRIESTS AND MONKS. 
 
 437 
 
 and as it is the custom for them to testify their surprise or ad¬ 
 miration of any object whatsoever, by constantly putting out their 
 tongues, the frequent appearance of these was at first startling to the 
 uninitiated, and of course struck us as barely civil, which, however, 
 was by no means the case. The same curious custom is expressive 
 of most joyous greeting when two friends meet ! 
 
 Unlike the lightly-draped yellow-robed Buddhist priests of 
 Ceylon, these in the valley of Kunawar are dressed in scarlet, with 
 a scarlet or orange-coloured cap like a biretta. Further in the 
 interior, the Lamas of Spiti wear an orange-coloured under-garment 
 reaching to the ankles, and over this a loose jacket of dark red, 
 with long wide sleeves. They are closely shaved and go bare¬ 
 headed. I am told that a much more curious difference exists in 
 the regulations of these two orders, in that the priests of Kunawar 
 are celibates, but are allowed the solace of tobacco, whereas the 
 Spiti monks are allowed to marry, but are denied their ’baccy ! 
 In Spiti the majority of the brothers in each family are Lamas, 
 and even small boys wear the ecclesiastical yellow robe, but 
 without the red jacket. The Lamas all wear rosaries, but the 
 lay brothers indulge in necklaces and earrings of coral and 
 turquoise beads strung on wool—a primitive adornment which 
 is passed through the ear, and fastened with a knot at either end. 
 
 The relations of these Buddhist priests and people seemed very 
 kindly. You may see one going along the road twirling his little 
 prayer-mill, and the people meeting him bow lowly, and crave a 
 blessing, which he bestows, laying both hands on the head of the 
 suppliant. A bunch of specially attractive flowers is sometimes 
 carried for miles, as an acceptable offering. 
 
 The general arrangement of this little hill temple is curiously 
 like that of an ordinary Roman Catholic Church; there are 
 divers small altars, with images of saints and vases of flowers, 
 and incense burning before each image. All round the walls 
 are admirably drawn mythological pictures, especially one fair 
 saint riding a tiger, which recurs frequently. On one side of 
 the temple sits a grand gilt image of Buddha, calm and con¬ 
 templative, his throne, as usual, edged with lotus leaves. Before 
 
438 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 him is set a low table, whereon are placed many small cups of 
 water, tea, flour, milk, and butter. These, and the aforesaid wild 
 flowers, are the offerings brought by worshippers, to whom animal 
 sacrifices are forbidden. Those are reserved for the neighbour¬ 
 ing Hindoo temple, and to a creed which appeals more to the 
 superstitious fears of the people. 
 
 Beside Buddha stands a second image almost as tall (eight or 
 ten feet), representing an exceedingly hideous being, quite unlike 
 any Hindoo image. A creature with enormous eyes painted on 
 its stomach, and wings of the orthodox demon type. Who was 
 thus represented we could not make out for certain, but we were 
 afterwards told it was a thunder-devil, a personage wholly unknown 
 to Buddha. At his feet lay the Thibetan holy books, written on 
 strips of parchment about eighteen inches long by four broad, 
 bound with wooden boards and wrapped up in curiously em¬ 
 broidered silk ; a large Sunkh shell on which was carved the sacred 
 lotus; a very precious trumpet, made of the thigh-bone of some 
 deceased Lama, elaborately carved ; some medallions made of the 
 ashes of another holy Lama; a row of little vases containing 
 flowers and peacocks’ feathers; seven brass cups filled with water; 
 cymbals, and an incense burner. All manner of gaudy drapery 
 was hung on every side, by no means clean. Indeed, I must 
 confess the whole place was very dirty, and smelt so very filthy, 
 that my companions beat a precipitate retreat, and I could hardly 
 even sit at the door long enough to get a rough sketch. 
 
 It was curious to see what trash some of the offerings were, but 
 the people are very like children in some things, and like to hang 
 up any queer thing they find. Mr. Simpson told me of one temple 
 in which a great treasure was found hanging up. This was an 
 English tailor’s book of patterns, with all the prices for coats and 
 trousers marked thereon ! He also mentioned the delight with 
 which they had received an old gin-bottle, marked with a large 
 cat, symbolical of Old Tom. This and some empty brandy-bottles 
 found honoured place on the altar as vases to hold flowers and 
 peacocks’ feathers, while some crystal stoppers of old decanters 
 were held more precious than diamonds ! 
 
CO-OPERATIVE PRAISE STORE. 
 
 439 
 
 But the really striking feature of this temple is a colossal Prayer- 
 wheel, like a very large barrel-organ, turned by a great iron crank, 
 which acts as handle. It is a great cylinder, about twelve feet 
 
 LARGE PKAISE-WHEEL IN THE LAMA TEMPLE AT KARUNG. 
 
 high and six or eight in diameter. It is painted in circular bands 
 of gold and bright colour, and on every band is inscribed the one, 
 oft-recurring Buddhist ascription, which usurps the place of all 
 prayer—the ascription of praise “ To the most glorious Jewel, the 
 
440 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Lotus.” The cylinder is said to be full of similar sentences, and 
 as it slowly revolves on its axis, a most musical bell marks each re¬ 
 volution, and the worshipper is accredited with having uttered that 
 short compendium of devotion just so many times as it is repeated 
 within the cylinder. This great barrel is the devotion-store for the 
 neighbourhood, and men from distant villages which are not 
 provided with such time-saving wheels of devotion, take advantage 
 of a visit to Rarung, to work off a few thousand acts of praise on 
 their own behalf and that of their relations. It is rather hard work, 
 as a stiff handle works the great iron crank which causes the 
 cylinder to revolve on its axis. 
 
 Each would-be worshipper, too poor to possess a little hand- 
 mill of his own, comes to the temple, kotows to the head Lama, 
 who, laying his hand on his head, blesses him; then squatting in. 
 front of the great wheel, he turns the crank for himself and those 
 dear to him. If many worshippers arrive simultaneously, the 
 priest works the crank, that all may share alike in this unspeakable 
 benefit. It seems really hard work, but when first I went to the 
 temple I found my poor coolies, already weary with carrying their 
 human burden so far, grinding away, as though in very truth their 
 hearts’ desire depended on their diligence, the mechanical striking 
 of the musical bell marking how rapidly their store of celestial 
 credit was accumulating. You see there was no prayer-wheel at 
 Pangi, where they lived, so they were making the most of their 
 opportunities. 
 
 Is/ it not strange to think that for at least fourteen centuries, 
 successive generations should thus have continued grinding their 
 acts of devotion to the saintly philosopher whose words of 
 wondrous wisdom even now afford food for deep study to the 
 wise men of Europe—and that this dreary formalism should 
 have emanated from a faith so subtle and metaphysical as 
 Buddhism ? 
 
 I am told that these Wheels of Praise are now to be found only 
 in these wild Himalayan regions—in Mongolia, Thibet, Chinese 
 Tartary, and other dominions of the Grand Lama, the teacher of 
 the way of life {/am being the Thibetan for path), who still turns 
 
LIFE IN THIBET. 441 
 
 the wheel of Buddha for the benefit of upwards of four hundred 
 millions of the human race in all solemnity and earnestness . 1 
 
 The flippancy and the enlightenment of this nineteenth century, 
 its progress or its scoffing, are to him alike matters of supreme 
 indifference. He knows that during his earthly life none can 
 gainsay him, for he is at once high priest and king; and he knows 
 that after death his soul will be re-absorbed into the Divine essence, 
 so if there is anything more for him to learn he will know it all then. 
 
 Finding that it was impossible for us to penetrate into Thibet, 
 our friends comforted, us by very uninviting pictures of the bleak 
 plains that lay beyond the beautiful peaks that bounded our 
 horizon. They told us how after climbing on and on, from one 
 high pass to another, they had at length reached a high cool table¬ 
 land. There they saw no more picturesque beauty, no more 
 beautiful timber, in fact no timber at all, not even sticks for fire¬ 
 wood. But they found dirty tribes living in dirtier tents, leading 
 a wild pastoral life; their flocks of goats, sheep, camels, and 
 oxen supplying them with all the necessaries of life — raiment and 
 tent canvas, food and fuel. Add to these a bowl of Tartar tea, 
 thickened with oatmeal, and an inch of melted butter floating 
 on its surface, and the happiness of these frugal folk is' complete. 
 The fuel is called argols ; that of sheep and goats is said to burn 
 with a heat so intense as to bring a bar of iron to a white heat. 
 So you see Mother Nature has provided for the lack of firewood. 
 As to the suffocating smoke produced by this noxious fuel as 
 well as by the clouds of tobacco, which blind unaccustomed eyes, 
 and blend with the fragrance of garlic and rancid oil, the people 
 seem rather to enjoy these things, and are moreover wholly in¬ 
 different to the swarms of vermin of every species which here 
 congregate. 
 
 All this sounded by no means inviting, so we were quite 
 content to limit our circle of Thibetan acquaintance to such 
 
 I subsequently found many large Scripture-wheels in the Buddhist temples 
 in Japan—revolving libraries containing the Sacred Books. I also discovered 
 kindred wheels or barrels containing images of Buddhist saints at the Lama 
 temple at Pekin; also among the ruins of the Summer Palace. 
 
442 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 wandering merchants as we met on the narrow high-roads, those 
 quaint dirty creatures, women whose frowzy hair had been guilt¬ 
 less of brushing since the day they were born, though it was 
 plaited in such an incalculable number of small tails, and 
 ornamented with such large turquoises and lumps of amber. 
 And, you must know, we accounted ourselves highly honoured in 
 adding these ladies to our visiting list. Talk of old blue blood ! 
 why, here are a race who pride themselves on their direct lineal 
 descent from the King of the Monkeys ! They tell how he came 
 to dwell in the mountains, and made his home in a cave, there 
 striving to live a life of holy contemplation, undisturbed by the 
 outer world. A beautiful demon, however, sought him out, and 
 prayed the monkey king to marry her. The apish St. Anthony 
 resisted her blandishments for a while, but finally yielded. So the 
 beautiful demon became the mother of children more cunning 
 and imitative than any mere human beings, though they were 
 content to wear the human form, and the descendants of these 
 ape demons peopled Thibet, and their posterity hold their memory 
 in loving reverence ! 
 
 Nor were these the only people of whom we heard strange 
 stories, as we gathered round the bright cedar-wood fire beneath 
 the clear starry heaven. We tried to exercise strong faith, 
 while recalling Hue’s curious accounts of Tartar funerals, telling 
 how, when a great chief dies, several of the finest young men 
 and women of the tribe are made to swallow mercury 1 till they 
 suffocate ; the supposition being that those who thus die con¬ 
 tinue to look fresh after death ! Their corpses are placed as a 
 solemn body-guard round the bier of the dead chief; one hold¬ 
 ing his fan, another his pipe, a third his snuff-box. Thus they 
 are left within a great tomb, covered with frescoes of Buddhist 
 saints, the entrance to which is curiously guarded by a cluster 
 
 1 Quicksilver is believed to endow the body with power to resist death and 
 avoid further transmigration. So Hindoo wizards prepare elixirs of mercury 
 and powdered mica, which are supposed to contain the veiy essence of‘the 
 god Siva and one of his wives. By a long course of swallowing this decoction 
 the devotee believes that he becomes actually one with Siva. 
 
THIGH-BONE TRUMPETS. 443 
 
 of bows ready strung, with arrows poised ; ready to fly at any 
 rash intruder! 
 
 While great men are said to be thus honoured after death, the 
 bodies of the middle classes are burned in furnaces, and their pow¬ 
 dered bones are mixed with a little earth and water from the sacred 
 Indus, and of this clay small images of Buddha are modelled and 
 deposited in tombs. The very poor are either carried up the 
 mountains or cast into ravines, a prey to wolves and birds of prey. 
 
 Sometimes while we were thus gleaning whatever travellers 
 more adventurous than ourselves thought fit to tell us, a flourish 
 of bells, trumpets, and horns, from the neighbouring Hindoo and 
 Lama temples, would summon the people to their evening worship ; 
 and at each rotation of the great Praise-wheel the soft, musical 
 bell chimed with a pleasant tone, which, together with the sub¬ 
 dued hum of human voices, seemed borne away by the breeze, 
 through the solemn cedar forest, till it floated higher and higher, 
 and died away among the glittering snows. 
 
 But other notes there were, by no means so musical, — horrible, 
 discordant sounds produced by a large shell, or by that trumpet 
 which we have noticed, made of an elaborately carved human 
 thigh-bone, the thigh-bone of a Lama. The longer the bone, the 
 more valuable the trumpet. These are generally brought from 
 Thibet, procured from such bodies as have simply been exposed 
 to kites, and other birds of prey, instead of being burnt. Some¬ 
 times figures of Buddha are very beautifully carved on these 
 thigh-bones, and become household gods. One such was sold to 
 me by a woman, who, with her family, had done it homage for 
 many years, but had latterly come to the conclusion that it was 
 not good for much, and that rupees in the hand were preferable. 
 The sun-bleached skulls of such Lamas are also sought for, and 
 the upper portion is highly esteemed as a medicine-cup. They 
 are of course endowed with special properties. Such a cup is 
 mounted in gold, silver, or copper, and is treasured as an heir¬ 
 loom. 
 
 Here, and at Pangi, we made a new acquaintance in the great 
 family of pine-trees, namely with the neozo or edible pine (Pinus 
 
444 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Gerardii ). Its stem is of the most silvery white, like that of a 
 very smooth birch, and its cones are full of oblong seeds which 
 are obtained by half roasting the cone. They are very nice and 
 nutty, though generally rather charred in the process of ex¬ 
 traction. This tree abounds here, and runs up as high as the 
 birch and juniper level. Then come the slopes of short green 
 grass, which some one has compared to the twilight, gleaming 
 softly between the broad expanse of dark forest gloom, and 
 the dazzling dome of snow, which glitters in the eternal sun¬ 
 shine ; not a bad threefold description of the great, grand 
 mountain, from the very base of which we looked up, feeling 
 ourselves such insignificant pigmies as our glance travelled up¬ 
 ward, past great walls of black rock, and green glaciers, and 
 sharp pinnacles of dark crag, right up to the summit of the 
 great mountain mass, which towers to a height of 21,000 feet; 
 a mountain— 
 
 “ Whose head in wintry grandeur towers 
 And whitens with eternal sleet, 
 
 While Summer in a veil of flowers 
 Is sleeping rosy at his feet.” 
 
 Pigmies though we were mid scenes of such stupendous 
 grandeur, we were very happy in the little white tents on those 
 glorious moonlight nights of never-to-be-forgotten beauty. And 
 all night long, great fires blazed to scare away the leopards, 
 which we knew abounded, and though unluckily we never had 
 the luck of seeing them, we knew that they were none the less 
 prowling silently round the camp, ready to make short work of 
 the dogs should they venture only a few yards into the darkness, 
 and so give their watchful foe a chance of making a sudden 
 spring, and taking them unawares. The servants revelled in the 
 warmth of the great cheery bonfires, and lay close round the 
 lire curled up in their blankets, and all was very peaceful and still. 
 
 When our eyes could spare time to gaze earthward, they had the 
 joy of resting on many lovely wild flowers—specially abundant 
 were the deep blue gentians. I am told that about one march 
 further, we might have seen handsome wild hollyhocks, crimson 
 
HIMALAYAN EDELWEISS. 
 
 445 
 
 and deep mauve. Moreover, had we gone on to Spiti beyond the 
 Kansum pass, we should have found the edelweiss growing so 
 abundantly, that in places it literally covers the ground, and 
 travellers sometimes select camping-grounds where their tents are 
 furnished with a thick carpet of these much-lauded woolly 
 blossoms. 
 
 It was with unutterable regret and many a lingering backward 
 look towards all the unexplored beauty we were about to leave 
 (more especially that lovely group of peaks up the valley), that we 
 were forced to bid adieu to beautiful Rarung, and turn once more 
 towards civilisation. Happily, however, we had not got there 
 yet; and still allowed ourselves some pleasant days in the happy 
 valley. Even here, however, some rain contrived to come, making 
 it a great matter of exultation occasionally to find that some 
 huge stone had so poised itself above the roots of some great 
 cedar-tree as to form a natural sketching tent just in the right 
 place! 
 
 We had now added considerably to our anxieties by having 
 adopted a large family of young chicor, little baby partridges; 
 which we hoped to be able to rear and take home. I need 
 scarcely say, that one after another died, and our little nursery was 
 sadly reduced ere we reached Simla. However, they amused us 
 considerably, being beautiful little creatures. 
 
 To avoid too closely retracing our steps, we determined to cross 
 the Sutlej at Urni, and explore some of the grand primeval forests 
 which are all too quickly disappearing before the ruthless British 
 axe. We had been promised a welcome from Mr. Paul and his 
 sister, who had made their pleasant home in this wilderness, and 
 who had undertaken to have the jula or rope-bridge put in good 
 order for our benefit. We were therefore considerably dismayed 
 when the mate, that is, the head man of the village, assured us 
 that there was certainly no jula at Urni, and the nearest was three 
 miles down the river at Chergaon, and utterly unsafe; the last 
 person who had attempted to cross by it, the previous week, having 
 been drowned. Of course the servants were terrified, and the 
 coolies vowed they would not risk their lives. 
 
446 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 However, we had too much faith in our friends to believe in 
 the unsoundness of the bridge, and (tantalizing as it was to look 
 down on their bungalow at Kilba 1 just opposite to us) we started 
 on a very rough three miles’ scramble to Chergaon, where, sure 
 enough, we found a most horribly unsafe jula—four ropes, quite 
 decayed, stretching from rock to rock, while far below raged- the 
 turbid river, swollen by the mass of melted snow, and tossing up 
 angry waves, whose spray, blending with the heavy morning mist, 
 made the farther bank almost invisible. It was evidently impos¬ 
 sible for us all to cross, and the question was how to get a message 
 sent to Kilba for new ropes. 
 
 While we were anxiously discussing the knotty point, one of our 
 party, an officer of the 6 oth Rifles , 2 having made up his mind 
 that the ropes would bear his weight, and that in any case it was 
 fairer to risk his own life than that of a servant, had quietly 
 taken his place in the coil of rope, which was the only seat pro¬ 
 vided, and gave the signal to the men on the other side to draw 
 him over. We could not hear their voices for the raging of the 
 flood, but they wrung their hands, and evidently implored not 
 to be compelled to obey, while the coolies round us added their 
 protestations as to the imminent danger of the proceeding. How¬ 
 ever, British sangfroid had made its calculations, and in another 
 minute the little coil of rope, containing the plucky atom of 
 humanity, was trembling in mid-air, the mad river boiling and 
 foaming below, and any accident involving certain death. It 
 was a moment of breathless anxiety when a hitch in the rope 
 kept the coil poised in mid-air for some seconds before it could 
 be dragged up to the rock, and with thankful relief we could just 
 discern through the mist a dozen strong arms out-stretched to 
 draw it in. 
 
 We knew it would be several hours before the new ropes 
 could arrive, so made up our minds for a quiet picnic, and 
 having now time to look around us, we were much struck by the 
 
 1 The Sutlej at Kilba is 6 ,ooo feet above the sea-level. It descends i,ooo 
 feet ere reaching Wangtu, where its elevation is about 5 > 000 f eet - 
 
 2 Lieut. O’Brien. 
 
CROSSING THE SUTLEJ BY A JULA OR ROPE BRIDGE. 
 
HOW TO MAKE A ROPE BRIDGE. 
 
 447 
 
 beauty of the spot. Before us lay a very fine fir-clad ravine, 
 down which tumbled a hill-torrent into the raging river, and 
 looking up the valley, one snowy peak, 21,000 feet in height, 
 towered above the mist. In the foreground were grouped the 
 native servants, cooking our breakfast; and all the picturesque 
 coolies, in their bright, striped, woollen raiment. Some of them 
 had attempted to follow the Sahib’s example, and cross the river 
 with some luggage, but the fact of two of the ropes having given 
 way, though happily without serious accident, had been a warning 
 not to be disobeyed. So they all sat patiently about the bank, 
 chatting and laughing. Just at this spot, Chergaon, a bloody 
 battle had once been fought, in which the brave little Ghoorkas 
 distinguished themselves, but who their opponents were I am not 
 certain. 
 
 Any one who is very anxious to try the effect of crossing such a 
 jula as this, on a small, safe scale, can get a capital notion of it 
 without coming so far, as there has from time immemorial been a 
 rope-bridge wherein people are drawn across the Dee at Ballater 
 in a basket . 1 
 
 • On these Indian streams (and I suppose elsewhere, for we 
 hear of precisely similar rope-bridges being suspended by the 
 natives of Upper Peru in the Cordillera mountains) the method 
 of beginning a bridge is that a party of natives post themselves 
 on either side of a river, each carrying a coil of thin string with a 
 small stone attached to the end of it as a weight. Each flings his 
 string as far as ever he can, and after an immense number of fail¬ 
 ures, and perhaps several hours’ time, they succeed in entangling 
 their strings. Then - one thin string after another is twisted on 
 till it can support a rope. And to this is added another and 
 another—loosely twisted ropes of wool or of grass. At last half 
 a dozen or more strong ropes are laid side by side and fastened to 
 a stout wooden beam on each side of the stream. This is weighted 
 
 1 Till recently an outlying crag in the Shetland Isles was thus connected 
 with the mainland, and “The Cradle of Noss ” was a very fair specimen of 
 the jula. It became so dangerous, however, that it was deemed prudent to 
 remove it, and I am not aware of its having been replaced. 
 
 0^. 
 
44 § 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 with heavy stones. The ropes are drawn as tight as possible. 
 Then it is ready for use. 
 
 Some of the natives swing themselves along just like monkeys, 
 holding on by hands and legs; but this is horrible to see, know¬ 
 ing that one moment’s dizziness would involve certain death. 
 Sometimes you sit in a rope coil, like that in which we crossed ; 
 at other places a wooden triangle is slung on the rope pointing 
 upwards, and you sit in the base of the triangle; if you are 
 sensible, you will be lashed in for fear of accidents. Then hal¬ 
 yards are fastened to this locomotive seat, and so you are pulled 
 across in due time.* 
 
 In some of the rough and ready julas across mountain torrents, 
 far from any village, and where you might wait long enough 
 before any one appeared on the other side to draw you over, there 
 is no second rope for that purpose, but sitting within a hoop slung 
 on the main rope, the traveller must work his own way across— 
 a matter requiring no small strength and steadiness of nerve, espe¬ 
 cially when giddy with the mighty rush and roar of the torrent 
 dashing with fearful force down the steep mountain side, and the 
 certainty of being himself dashed to pieces among the cruel rocks 
 should he slip or fall. 
 
 Another variety of native suspension-bridge has a wattling of 
 wicker-work laid on strong ropes, and sometimes has side ropes 
 with the same wicker trellis-work ; even with this such a bridge is 
 horrible to cross, as the foot -is apt to slip through the open 
 wicker-work, through which you see the water rushing below. 
 The natives too are apt to be careless in renewing the ropes, 
 which are very liable to decay . 1 
 
 A still more dangerous form of jula gives no flat roadway at 
 all for the foot. Only a stout rope of twisted osier or bamboo, 
 while two similar ropes give some support to the hand, the sides 
 being slightly interlaced to connect them with the foot rope. 
 Such a bridge quivers at every step, and sways with every breath 
 of wind. No goat even will cross it, and the shepherds who 
 bring their laden flocks from Thibet must carry each goat and 
 1 Himalayan bridges. See Chapter XV. 
 
ON A ROPE BRIDGE. 
 
 449 
 
 its burden over separately in their arms. Such work requires 
 the head of a Blondin, while the ropes are anything but “ tight 
 ropes.” And yet bridges such as these are the sole means ot 
 crossing many streams perhaps a hundred yards wide, from rock 
 to rock. 
 
 In smoother rivers, where such a thing is possible, a traveller 
 sometimes floats his own charpoy 1 on four inflated massaks ,' 2 and 
 four natives then swim the stream and draw after them this floating 
 couch, whereon he sits in royal state. 
 
 After a delay of some hours, a welcome shout announced the 
 arrival of the strong new ropes. These were quickly slung across 
 and made fast, and in a very few minutes more we each in turn 
 took our seat in the coil of rope, taking the precaution of being 
 tied in. I should imagine the sensation was akin to that of travel¬ 
 ling in a balloon. It was supremely unpleasant. 
 
 Though our rope hung about a hundred feet above the seething, 
 foaming torrent, it seemed as though we must touch the waters, 
 also it seemed as if the waters were at rest and we were dashing 
 up the stream. The noise was deafening, and the time of cross¬ 
 ing seemed interminable. It was like a horrible nightmare, 
 in which there was no escape from the surging, tossing mass of 
 yellow waves below, and from the inaccessible black rock that 
 rose perpendicularly far above. The hitch of the ropes seems 
 an invariable part of the programme, allowing ample time to 
 realise the situation, and the frailness of the barrier which alone 
 separates the two worlds. At last you feel your rope coil once 
 more in motion, and by a succession of short jerks you are hauled 
 upward to the rocky ledge, where you still hang poised for a few 
 moments, till a dozen strong brown arms can catch the coil and 
 draw its helpless inmate safely to the shore with some pleasant 
 words of cheery welcome. Then you can sit perched on the rock 
 and watch your friends, your coolies, and the baggage being drawn 
 over piecemeal, and very thankful you are when the last human 
 being has come safely to land. 
 
 A long, steep scramble eventually brought us to Kilba, where 
 1 Bedstead. 2 Water-skins. 
 
 G G 
 
450 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 we received a warm and hospitable welcome. It was strange to 
 find ourselves surrounded by all the luxuries of a London home, 
 except indeed a piano—nevertheless we had the pleasure of 
 hearing the very newest and most difficult songs warbled without 
 accompaniment, by an Anglo-Himalayan nightingale, who pos¬ 
 sesses the rare gift of accurately singing at sight all the treasures 
 of music brought her by the European post. This was a strange 
 life for an English lady, often left quite alone for weeks among 
 these wild mountaineers, while her brother was looking after his 
 workmen in distant forests, leaving her in charge of money and 
 of stores for the supply of hundreds of men. Doubtless the 
 knowledge that she was fully prepared in case of need to make 
 good use of her dagger and life-preserver in guarding the treasure- 
 chest, may have done much to deter midnight robbers. But in 
 truth, such a life involved an amount of energy and pluck rarely 
 met with. 
 
 Among her more practical accomplishments was a sufficient 
 knowledge of medicine to enable her to comfort and aid many 
 sick and wounded, while her equally precious skill as a baker 
 supplied her brother and her guests with the rare luxury of 
 delicious bread—a delightful change after a prolonged course of 
 chupatties. 
 
 Nor was it only while under this hospitable roof that her 
 countrymen shared in its comforts. Scarcely a day passed without 
 some coolie being despatched with a load of excellent newly- 
 baked bread to some little tent, pitched perhaps thirty miles off 
 on some wild pass, whose inmate had well-nigh forgotten the 
 taste of such dainties. In truth, no travellers whose far up-country 
 wanderings have been cheered, and his commissariat again and 
 again replenished by Miss Paul’s thoughtful care, can abstain 
 from adding his tribute to her praise. 
 
 Speaking of medicines, I forget whether I have already told 
 you that the Paharis extract from the deodar an oil which is found 
 to be highly efficacious in the treatment of rheumatism, just as 
 we in Europe are now learning the value of fir-tree oil, and of 
 garments made of fir-wool fibre, for the same painful malady. 
 
A DESERTED VILLAGE. 
 
 451 
 
 Now came the explanation of all our morning’s adventures. It 
 seems the jula at Urni had been thoroughly repaired for our 
 benefit, in fact, twelve new ropes had been put on the previous 
 day. But the villagers of Kilba, being determined, if possible, to 
 keep away all mutton and flour-consuming sahibs, had sent to the 
 mate at Urni desiring him at all costs to prevent our crossing the 
 river; in compliance with this request he had denied the existence 
 of the Urni jula, thinking that we would probably be deterred by 
 his report of the other from even giving it a thought, and so 
 would return by the same road as we had come. He little knew 
 what it was to have to do with “ the dominant race.” Some one 
 suggested that a little personal chastisement would be the only 
 form in which our righteous retribution was likely to be felt, and 
 I think we all agreed that it was well merited. However, the ad¬ 
 ministering thereof would have been illegal and perhaps somewhat 
 derogatory; so the lords of the creation practised a “masterly 
 inactivity,” and I fear the rascal escaped scot-free. 
 
 The villagers, finding that their little stratagem had failed, tried 
 a new plan, and when we reached the village we found it deserted ; 
 every soul had vanished with their flocks and their herds, nor did 
 they return for some days after the departure of their unwelcome 
 visitors. We wandered in and out of their vineyards, among their 
 fields and picturesque carved houses, overgrown with rich tangles 
 of gourds and divers fruits, in every corner of their sacred inclo¬ 
 sures and temples. We might even, had we been so inclined, 
 have taken Durga’s sacred fish from their tanks—for there 
 remained literally no one to say us nay. 
 
 Meanwhile we could get no milk, and even firewood was 
 difficult to obtain, while the servants found no bazaar at which to 
 replenish their stores, and of course, would not touch our food. 
 Happily our kind hosts were able to supply this last deficiency 
 from the godowns or storehouses, whence Mr. Paul supplies his 
 army of woodcutters with their daily flour. 
 
 But for this inconvenience, there was something rather pleasant 
 in the unwonted stillness of the village, and while the gentlemen 
 were exploring the forest, and the other ladies were crooning in 
 
 G G 2 
 
452 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 a real drawing-room, I spent a long, pleasant day sketching a very 
 picturesque cedar temple, richly carved, perched above terraced 
 vineyards, with the river sweeping almost calmly below, in a broad, 
 smooth reach, and white snow-peaks far above. That temple was 
 adorned with many trophies of the chase, chiefly ibex-horns, the 
 offerings of Pahari sportsmen. 
 
 Sometimes travellers in crossing the higher passes of these 
 mountains come to some great cairn of huge stones, which have 
 been heaped up to the honour of the Spirit of the Pass, and here 
 the skulls and horns of all manner of wild creatures have been 
 fastened as to a shrine. The skulls of the barral, the ooriyal, 
 the ovis amnion, and the ibex are among those which have thus- 
 been offered. I fancy that the sight of a good specimen thus 
 abandoned to the winds and snows must be rather a temptation 
 to most sportsmen, but the reverence and honesty of the Paharis 
 would certainly prevent the sacrilegious appropriation of such 
 treasure-trove. No coolie would care to shoulder such a burden. 
 
 Among the various charms of Miss Paul’s mountain home 
 were all manner of tame creatures, the greatest pet of all being 
 a flying squirrel, a most delightful little animal. It is just the 
 size of a common squirrel, but the fore-paws are united to the 
 hind ones by a membrane, covered with soft thick fur, and these 
 outstretched act the part of wings. Even the tail assists its 
 flight, as each hair seems to set itself, as a bird would set its 
 feathers, and so acts as a rudder to guide the little creature in 
 its flight. It is the gentlest of pets, with very large soft eyes, 
 and the richest warm brown fur, and never seemed so happy as 
 when curled round his mistress’s neck, or eating bread and milk 
 from her hand. 
 
 A less pleasant reminiscence of this place was finding a large 
 snake in Captain Graves’ tent. It was, however, detected and slain. 
 But though we never lost the conscious dread of possible serpents 
 lurking in every corner, they certainly are not so common as our 
 fears would suggest—in fact this was only the second snake we 
 have seen since leaving Simla. 
 
 When the gentlemen returned from their expedition in the 
 
FOREST OF KUNAI. 
 
 453 
 
 forest of Kunai, they one and all burst into such unwonted rapture 
 over the glory of one especial group of magnificent old cedars 
 that I determined to find my way there next morning. I think if 
 I had realised beforehand how difficult a scramble it would entail, 
 I might have added it to the list of unattainable beauties. Happily 
 I did not quite believe the general account of the road, and 
 though even our hostess had never found her way there, I accepted 
 the version of her brother, whose seven-league boots make light 
 of all difficulties. So next morning, when all the gentlemen had 
 gone off in search of bears, I started alone with six sturdy Paharis, 
 who quite entered into my wish to reach this almost inaccessible 
 spot, and carried my dandie bravely in such places as was 
 possible. 
 
 Very soon, however, this became literally an impossibility, the 
 path being so frightfully steep that each had enough to do to look 
 out for himself. So fastening a rope round my waist, for fear of a 
 false step, which they seemed to think inevitable, they helped me 
 in the dizzy climb. Sometimes we clambered up the steepest 
 banks of shingle and large stones, clambering from one to another, 
 while our feet sank in loose earth and pebbles which slipped from 
 under us, so that we lost ground almost as fast as we climbed. 
 These long slides seemed almost interminable. At other times 
 the path was merely a ledge along the face of the precipice, where 
 even a wild goat might find its footing difficult; wherever this 
 slight support failed, a bit of rude scaffolding was built out from 
 the rock-face, whereon were laid narrow bits of plank and shingle, 
 so as to make a giddy roadway actually projecting from the cliff ; 
 and as the loose stones or planks were rather apt to tilt beneath 
 the foot, it was always a satisfactory moment when we had crossed 
 the abyss, and reached the farther rock in safety, steadying our¬ 
 selves with one hand against the face of the precipice, while at 
 every touch loose stones would fall, and go rumbling and tumbling 
 down thousands of feet into the valley. Meanwhile the path 
 wound higher and higher, and at length with intense delight we 
 reached the cedar shades of Kunai. 
 
 As we strayed farther and farther into the pathless depths of 
 
454 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 that glorious primeval forest, or glanced far above the dark cedar 
 tops, to where the glittering ice-peaks flashed against the deep-blue 
 of heaven, I thought of Longfellow’s song, telling how Nature, 
 the dear old nurse, taught her child day by day to read her 
 precious book. She says to the little one :— 
 
 “ ‘ Here is a story book 
 
 Thy father hath written for thee. 
 
 “ ‘ Come wander with me,’ she said, 
 
 Into regions yet untrod, 
 
 And read what is still unread 
 In the manuscript of God.’ 
 
 “ And he wandered away and away 
 With Nature, the dear old nurse. 
 
 Who sang to him day by day 
 The rhymes of the Universe. 
 
 “ And whenever the way seemed long, 
 
 Or his heart began to fail, 
 
 She would sing a more wonderful song 
 Or tell a more wonderful tale.” 
 
 —and in truth she had never yet shown this child so grand a 
 picture as the forest sanctuary which we at last reached in the 
 depths of that dark shade. 
 
 It was only a little cedar-temple, a mere pigmy beneath the 
 magnificent clump of deodars that seemed to reach up to heaven. 
 But the fact of its being there had shown that the natives con¬ 
 sidered those trees “ God’s trees,” so they were sacred and safe 
 from the cruel axe which was making such sore havoc on every 
 side. It really must be dreadful to a lover of nature to be sent 
 to explore a splendid forest such as this, while yet untouched by 
 workmen’s tools; and to know that henceforth the aim and end of 
 his life must be to devise means of conveying those beautiful trees 
 to the burning plains to be converted into railway sleepers and 
 bridges, and all manner of commonplace useful things. 
 
 Certainly it is a wonderful thing to see the various contrivances 
 by which their transit is effected. In most cases the trees grow 
 out from the precipice at such an angle as to make the mere work 
 
DEVASTATION OF THE FORESTS. 
 
 455 
 
 of cutting them a matter of danger and difficulty. When at last 
 the cloven giant has fallen thundering down the khad, the chances 
 are, that in its fall it has been smashed into two or three pieces ; 
 in any case it must be sawn into suitable lengths of about twenty 
 feet. Even then the weight of these ponderous beams is enor¬ 
 mous, as they are frequently of immense girth. When the huge 
 logs have thus been felled, they must be stamped with the brand 
 of the contractor or Government, as the case may be. A system 
 of leverage brings them to the next descent, probably an arti¬ 
 ficially constructed slide down the face of the khad, at a very 
 steep incline, and down this, when wet and slippery, or when 
 newly frozen, the great timbers glide, and lie heaped together in 
 piles, all tossed at random and exceedingly dangerous to handle. 
 No wonder that serious accidents sometimes occur. 
 
 Several of these slides in succession, assisted by occasional 
 leverage, carry the logs from khad to khad, probably landing them 
 at last in the bed of a mountain torrent; and when the next flood 
 comes, roaring and thundering, foaming and dashing down over 
 the rocks in a mighty cataract, it will bring the great beams 
 crashing down the abyss, and will at last hurl them into the raging 
 snow-flood far below, where the Sutlej will toss them to and fro in 
 its seething waves, and at last float them down to the plains 
 hundreds of miles away (the river itself being upwards of a 
 thousand miles in length), where only poor, mutilated, scored 
 logs (massive indeed, but oh ! so battered), are all that will survive 
 to tell of the peaceful, green solitude in which the first thousand 
 years of their calm, restful life glided so gently by. 
 
 The unaided force of the current only suffices to carry them to 
 a certain point where the Forest Department has a station, and 
 where the timber is collected and formed into rafts, and so is 
 floated to a place near Loodiana, where the railway crosses the 
 Sutlej, and carries the poor remains of the forest to the cities. 
 
 The forests themselves tell a mournful tale of wholesale de¬ 
 struction, and though enough of beauty remains to fill one with 
 delight, the joy is sadly tempered by the sight of countless stumps 
 of far more mighty monarchs than any now remaining. And cut, 
 
456 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 as we should think, so wastefully • always several feet above the 
 ground, leaving great blocks such as might veneer half the tables 
 in London . 1 
 
 Can you not almost hear the “ sad daughter of the River-god ” 
 making her low, heartbroken moan for the devastation of her dear 
 solitudes by ruthless men ?— 
 
 “ They came. They cut away my tallest pines 
 My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge 
 High over the blue gorge ; and all between 
 The snowy peak and snow-white cataract 
 Fostered the callow eaglet. From beneath 
 Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn 
 The panther’s roar came muffled. 
 
 .... Never, never more, 
 
 Shall lone CEnone see the morning mist 
 Sweep through them—never see them overlaid 
 With narrow moonlit slips of silver cloud 
 Between the loud stream and the trembling stars.” 
 
 Now poor CEnone must take refuge in still more remote soli¬ 
 tudes, if perchance some spots may prove inaccessible to her foes 
 —some sanctuary where silence yet reigns, and where the presence 
 of mankind has not yet insulted her lonely majesty. 
 
 Imagine how glorious these forest depths must be in winter, when 
 the light snow falls in dazzling layers on each flat surface of those 
 mighty pyramids of green which tower aloft so still and so solemn ; 
 half revealed through the silent, drifting showers, with here and 
 there a tree half burnt and blackened, standing alone, monstrous 
 and spectral. Sometimes when each weird and awful form is 
 
 1 Just think what a prize such massive lumps of cedar-wood would have 
 been to those old Roman connoisseurs who were willing to give such fabulous 
 prices for furniture made of it, that we hear of Cicero having paid a sum 
 equal to four thousand pounds for one table, while others sold for the price of 
 a fine estate ; those most prized being carved from a single block of cedar, 
 mounted on an ivory pillar, and surrounded with a circular band of gold. 
 Pliny has recorded how the charms of this ivory and cedar-wood had caused 
 all the forests of Libya to be stripped. Imagine his feelings if he had seen 
 them converted into railway sleepers, or used for firewood, while the green 
 forest glades are strewn knee-deep with torn and ragged branches—all 
 that now remains of the beautiful and lost! 
 
MAJESTIC TREES. 
 
 457 
 
 magnified by the cold grey mist, they must seem transformed into 
 an army of mysterious spirits—so pale and dreamy, appearing and 
 disappearing amid the vapours like gigantic blue phantoms. 
 
 But to-day the forest was all bathed in sunshine, and the glow¬ 
 ing light shone on great red stems and glossy layers of green, 
 studded with paler cones, and the air was scented with the breath 
 of wild flowers, and resinous fir-needles. Presently the hill- 
 women assembled from far and near, with their little ones, to 
 inspect the first white woman—so still called from courtesy, though 
 in truth retaining small claim to such a distinction !—who had 
 penetrated to their fastnesses. Some of them were strikingly 
 handsome, with very fair complexions, and masses of beautiful 
 dark hair; having moreover calm, thoughtful faces, that agreed 
 well with the deep, dreamy eyes of these children of the forests. 
 
 As usual, we could fraternise only by signs, for I hardly knew 
 a dozen words of Hindustani, and not one of the semi-Thibet 
 patois spoken in the hills. But though we could not exchange ideas, 
 the human courtesies are always easily understood, and the novelty 
 of watching a sketch being made, and the pleasurable alarm of 
 looking through my opera-glasses, was sufficient attraction to keep 
 them happy for some hours. As to my watch, it had unfortunately 
 ceased to tick, a matter however of very small importance, where 
 the position of the sun and its lengthening shadows were an all- 
 sufficient guide for such vague laws of time as those we owned. 
 
 These lassies, thus assembled in picturesque groups around the 
 little temple, afforded a good standard of size, whereby to judge of 
 the real magnitude of the stately giants which overshadowed them. 
 At first the mind could hardly take in the possibility of anything 
 much grander ! 
 
 Yet I suppose that scarcely one tree in that group could have 
 much exceeded thirty feet in girth ; so that, in the wonderful scale 
 of Creation these are, after all, mere pigmies compared with some 
 of the mammoths of the New World—the stupendous cedars of 
 California . 1 
 
 1 For notes on the glorious Californian forests, see Granite Crags, by C. F. 
 Gordon Gumming. Blackwood and Son. 
 
45$ 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Yet while I am driven to confess that my dear cedars of Kunai 
 cannot claim a foremost rank among the giants of the tree world 
 as regards actual size, I do maintain that no group more stately and 
 majestic ever ruled in the broad greenwood, in any corner of the 
 globe, and many a time they rise before my memory as a vision of 
 beauty that sadly dwarfs the smaller growth of other lands. 
 
 It was quite distressing to have to turn away again, but the 
 afternoon was drawing on, and the long steep descent proved fully 
 more difficult than even the morning’s climb, so that the snows 
 were sunset-flushed, and the valley bathed in purple evening light, 
 long ere we reached the pleasant bungalow, where an evening of 
 rest, and of music, proved even more acceptable than usual. 
 
 From Kilba we were sorely tempted to diverge, and explore the 
 lovely Baspa Valley, at least as far as the village of Sangla, where 
 the climate in summer is said to be quite delightful. It is beyond 
 the influence of the rains ; and for months together we might there 
 have found the bliss of one long summer’s day, feasting on the 
 grapes which abound throughout the Koonawar district, and which 
 are fine and of excellent flavour. They are of many varieties, some 
 of which are made into wine; others dried and exported to Thibet. 
 
 The Baspa Valley is about sixty miles long, and mostly is richly 
 cultivated, or else is green pasture land, with rivulets, flowers, and 
 fruit trees. The valley is sometimes wide, sometimes narrow, 
 dotted with most picturesque villages. The hills are clothed with 
 cedar, walnut, pine, and birch, above which rise the glittering snow- 
 peaks. A rise of 8,000 feet brings you to the source of the river, 
 near which there is no wood, only a wide grassy valley, with grassy 
 hills on either side, and the snow-ridge appearing just above. 
 
 Many pleasant plans were discussed for exploring this paradise. 
 Could we have lingered for one blissful month, our homeward march 
 would have been quite delightful, as we should have altogether 
 missed the rains. However, having already obtained a short 
 extension of leave, there was no possibility of extracting more ; 
 so rvith sore reluctance we turned from all this unattainable beauty 
 to face the wet world which we knew awaited us within a couple 
 of marches. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE MIST. 
 
 “Unprotected Females” in Ramnee Forest—Fleas!—Noise—Flimalayan 
 Collie Dogs—A Dear Dog—Life in the Forests—Thunder-storm—Mists 
 —Locusts—Scarlet and Crimson Grain-fields—Rough Night Quarters— 
 Kotghur Mission Station—Orchard—Wild Flowers—In Hatto Forest— 
 Simla in the Rains—Leeches—Start to Spend a Month at Massourie— 
 Journey to Umballa. 
 
 “ To roam at large among unpeopled glens 
 And mountainous retirements, only trod 
 By devious footsteps : regions consecrate 
 To oldest Time ! and while the mists 
 Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes 
 And phantoms from the crags and solid earth, 
 
 .... And while the streams 
 Descending from the region of the clouds 
 And starting from the hollow of the earth 
 More multitudinous every moment, rend 
 Their way before them—what a joy to roam 
 An equal among mightiest energies ! ” 
 
 Our next camping-ground was in the dark forest of Ramnee. 
 Thither the would-be sportsmen had preceded us, in search, as 
 usual, of those mythical bears. We two ladies preferred remaining 
 a few days longer at Kilba. When, however, we judged that it 
 was time to follow, we started one afternoon for Ramnee. On 
 arriving, we received a message that the gentlemen had prolonged 
 their hunting expedition, and had gone for some days to higher 
 ground. 
 
460 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 I believe that in our innermost hearts we were both very 
 much delighted at the novelty of finding ourselves thus literally 
 “ unprotected females ” in this wild place; so on the morrow 
 we pitched our tiny tent (we had but one) on an open space in 
 the heart of the great forest. On the night of our arrival we 
 and our coolies were so weary that we dispensed with even the 
 exertion of unpacking the tent, and made the best of a room 
 in a wretched old bungalow. Luckily the night was dry, as 
 we could see a foot of star-lit sky at intervals through the 
 shingle roof! But oh! ! the fleas ! the starving host of fleas ! 
 “ No sleep till morn, when flesh and hunger meet! ” We 
 reminded one another of the gentleman who complained to his 
 landlord of the bugs in his lodgings. The host indignantly 
 asserted that there was not a single bug in his house. “ Right 
 you are,” was the reply, “for they are all very much married, 
 and have large families ! ” 
 
 Assuredly the fleas of Ramnee bad multiplied as miraculously 
 as those other nice insects in the Egyptian plagues. Like them, 
 they invaded all our property, and though on the morrow we rose 
 up in haste and pitched our tent as far off as we dared, hoping to 
 shake off all memory of our miserable night, our tormentors 
 migrated in our baggage, and formed a flourishing colony in our 
 new abode ! We dared not move our tent farther from the 
 servants’ fire, for fear of the leopards, which abound. 
 
 Another crook in our lot was the incessant noise. We had 
 imagined that here at least we should surely be allowed to revel 
 undisturbed in the blessed stillness of the mountains, but, as usual, 
 we were doomed to disappointment. Hundreds of wild Paharis 
 were at work in the forests all round us ; while others were 
 hammering away early and late at a new bungalow, which was to 
 be the home of the Officer of the Forests, who was one of the 
 shooting party. In truth, all our visions of the grand stillness of 
 these ancient forests had long ago been dispelled. Wherever we 
 went, Sunday and week-day alike—from early dawn till deepening 
 twilight—the unvarying noise of the axe, the crash of trees 
 smashing over rocks far down the khad, and the incessant 
 
RAMNEE FOREST. 
 
 461 
 
 monotonous chant and refrain of the coolies as they work, greeted 
 our wearied ears, varied by the barking of dogs at night, or the 
 Hindoo chatter and hubble-bubble, which seem never to cease. 
 So we were fain to spend much of each day in a nook close by 
 the stream, whose ceaseless noise, in some measure, drowned the 
 human voice. 
 
 The forest in which we now were, much resembled that of 
 Poindah, the tall tapering spires of morinda, rye, and kindred 
 pines greatly predominating over the deodar. One dark hill 
 towered behind another, all pine-clad, and beyond lay the Shatool 
 Pass, where the sportsmen were encamped; a pass just the height 
 of Mont Blanc, but overlooked by one great peak towering five 
 thousand feet higher. 
 
 “ A peak of dread 
 That to the evening sun uplifts 
 The griesly gulfs and slaty rifts 
 Which seam its shivered head.” 
 
 A magnificent crown to this savage forest scenery, a crest where 
 oft-times the eternal sunshine rests steadfastly, while dark clouds 
 gather round its base, and the voice of rolling thunder whispers 
 of the raging storms that have shattered so many of the grand 
 old trees, and of the wild winds that have uprooted others, leav¬ 
 ing the depths of the forest strewn with priceless timber, rotting 
 where it fell. 
 
 The rocks hereabouts include granites of divers colours; also 
 mica schist, which we were told is full of garnets. We did not 
 care, however, to add our hammering to the various distracting 
 noises; but rather loved to sit in idleness beneath green leaves, 
 sometimes watching the great logs gliding down long grassy slopes 
 from the crags above, right down to the river, sometimes content 
 with merely watching the light drapery of mist, the silvery cloud 
 that sometimes 
 
 “ Lost its way between the piney sides of this long glen j” 
 
 and that curled and twined in and out among,the dark trees, as 
 though it could not escape. 
 
462 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 On the third evening our Nimrods returned. As soon as we 
 espied their torches glimmering on a far hill-side, we lighted 
 blazing wood fires to guide them to our camp. Their foray had, 
 as usual, been unsuccessful; they had found literally no trace 
 of animal life, though enough of beautiful scenery to make some 
 amends. They brought with them, however, a very great prize, 
 namely two “ Pahari Koote,” hill dogs. The only sort that will 
 face leopards, therefore the only dog of any use in guarding the 
 flocks. In size and form they are like very large Scotch collie 
 dogs. As soon as the dog is old enough to bear it, he is adorned 
 with a wide metal collar, armed with strong spikes. Thus pro¬ 
 tected, he will face and often kill a leopard. 
 
 Nevertheless, these, by cunning craftiness, sometimes take him 
 unawares, and contrive to spring on him, so that sooner or later 
 almost every hill dog falls a victim, for although the leopards are 
 very rarely seen (as they only prowl about at night, and hide shyly 
 and warily in the daylight), they are nevertheless very numerous. 
 Nor are they the only foes of the flocks, for although the bears are 
 properly speaking vegetarians, they are not proof against an oc¬ 
 casional feast of mutton. Generally they feed on grass and roots, 
 fruits and berries, often attacking the corn-fields, or sitting on the 
 branches of some big oak or apricot-tree, eating their acorns and 
 fruit, their animal food being confined to beetles, scorpions, and 
 such insects, but once they have tasted sheep their preference for 
 blood is incurable. They become worse enemies than sheep- 
 worrying dogs. Then, too, they become fearless, and will attack 
 men, generally making for the face; several times we saw their 
 victims, whose countenances, horribly mutilated, told a hideous 
 tale. When the flocks are thus endangered, traps are set ahd 
 baited with flesh ; and the bears, having now learnt to eat un¬ 
 scrupulously of any meat they can find, are thus snared. 
 
 The pluck of the hill dogs of course makes them priceless 
 treasures to the shepherds, who greatly object to allowing one to 
 leave the country, especially as they are morbidly jealous of 
 allowing the breed to pass into other hands. We were indebted 
 to a Forest Officer for procuring us these two black puppies, which 
 
LEOPARD DOGS. 
 
 463 
 
 already were about the size of an average sheep-dog. They were 
 only three months old, yet the poor infants were already orphans, 
 father and mother and various other relations having been eaten 
 by the leopards. Henceforth it was our anxious charge every 
 evening to tie them up in camp at sunset, lest they should share 
 the same fate. Mrs. Graves called her dog Kilba; mine was 
 named Ramnee, in memory of our two last halts. A more 
 beautiful pair of dogs never were seen than these silky creatures, 
 of the glossiest blank and tan. They were the admiration of all 
 beholders. All the natives of the lower valleys would gather 
 round to look at them; and amongst white men too they proved a 
 fertile subject of conversation, as every one declared that, beautiful 
 as they were, the whole breed was horribly treacherous, and that 
 sooner or later we would find good cause to repent having 
 adopted such playfellows. 
 
 I overheard many such pleasant prophecies when we returned 
 to Simla—stories of such dogs having become household pets, 
 and then turning savage. In one instance, when a huge dog had 
 thus made himself the terror of the whole family, more especially 
 of the natives, he continued perfectly obedient to his little master, 
 a child of about six years, whose commands he would at once 
 obey implicitly. All I can say for our beautiful puppies, is that as 
 they grew up, they became more and more gentle. In character 
 they proved as unlike as most other brothers. As to Kilba, his 
 intellect and his affections were alike concentrated in his stomach, 
 and he transferred his allegiance so entirely to the mess, that his 
 mistress shortly resigned all claim to him. 
 
 But Ramnee proved a perfect darling, and became the pet of 
 the household. He would lie for hours on the balcony, beside 
 the nursery window, and would allow the children to pull his 
 ears and his tail and his great brown feet, and sometimes would 
 .take a little hand quite gently in his great mouth; or else lie 
 sleepily wagging his tail, just to show how pleased he was with 
 things in general. Another of our household pets was a jungle 
 kitten, who had adopted my brother-in-law for its master, and 
 coming shyly to the house, used to ask him for daily milk, till at 
 
464 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 last it became a natural inmate of the house. At first we were 
 rather nervous as to how our canine and feline pets would agree ; 
 and with good reason, for the kitten would sometimes make most 
 unprovoked attacks on the puppy, who could not always resist 
 giving an indignant snap in return. But very soon they became 
 sworn friends : and it was the prettiest sight imaginable to see the 
 huge, black puppy playing great, heavy antics with the neat, active 
 little kitten, springing about and attitudinising in the most affected 
 way. 
 
 As to the brown monkeys and the white langours who came to 
 inspect him, they were to him a source of endless astonishment. 
 He would fly at them the moment they approached, and very 
 quickly banished such intruders from the premises; whereupon 
 they would take up safe quarters in some tree close by, and chatter 
 derisively at him. We did not think, however, that he might 
 have equal influence with the leopards who had occasionally 
 carried off dogs from the neighbouring verandahs, and would 
 doubtless have thought him a delicious morsel. So he always 
 slept in my room, and had his morning cup of tea like the 
 other members of the family, while Miss Kitten had her bread 
 and butter. 
 
 We determined that kitten and puppy must never be separated, 
 so when the time came for our return to England the kitten was 
 provided with a travelling basket, to which, however, it showed so 
 unconquerable an aversion that after reaching Meerut, it was 
 handed over to a family en route to Peshawur, and was last seen 
 perched on the back of an elephant on its way thither. As to 
 the dear black dog, his journey was a time of exceeding misery. 
 The railway officials could give him no cooler carriage than a dog- 
 compartment, next the engine, and all we could do was to give 
 him a great brass basinful of water to freshen him a little. His 
 antipathy to the sacred monkey-tribe came near to causing me 
 trouble on our return to the plains, for as we neared the sacred 
 Nerbudda river he suddenly espied a great encampment of devout 
 yogis accompanied by a regiment of revered monkeys. He was 
 sitting beside me in an open dak-gharry, and ere I could possibly 
 
MY BEAUTIFUL HILL DOG. 
 
 465 
 
 check him, he sprang out and made for them. To their usual 
 caste horror of being defiled by a dog, was added the terror 
 which even in the plains attaches to a “ Pahari Koote,” so in an 
 instant the whole camp was routed, and men and monkeys put to 
 flight by this cleanest of unclean animals. The general confusion 
 produced was too ludicrous, but I was heartily glad when, tardily 
 obedient to my recall, the great big gentle puppy returned, like a 
 gentleman, to his seat in the carriage. 
 
 Then the obnoxious-looking company plucked up courage to 
 approach and claim backsheesh for their insulted monkeys, when 
 happily it occurred to me to turn the tables, and claim backsheesh 
 for my beautiful dog who was sitting gravely at my side. Whether 
 they were dumfoundered by the exquisite absurdity of the 
 demand, or simply considered that a white woman who would sit 
 beside a dog was altogether impracticable, I cannot say; but they 
 grinned and departed. This was poor Ramnee’s last scamper in 
 India. 
 
 By the time we reached Bombay he was seriously ill, and the 
 heat there being very great, although it was December, he lay for 
 a week panting breathlessly, though our balcony, at the top of the 
 Byculla Hotel, caught every faint sea-breeze. 
 
 On the homeward voyage he suffered still more. A halt at 
 Cairo, however, quite set him up, and when he reached England 
 and had the delight of once more rolling in deep snow-drifts, 
 Ramnee was himself again. He wandered about the park, making 
 friends with all the bucks ; and fraternised with all the Sussex 
 farmers, amongst whom he established a regular visiting-list; 
 trotting off to any house he fancied, condescending to accept a 
 drink of milk, and presently trotting home again. 
 
 But alas ! evil days were at hand. A summer, well-nigh 
 approaching Indian heat, proved too much for this child of the 
 snows. One Sunday, like a respectable Christian, he accom¬ 
 panied the family to a church so unenlightened as to make no 
 provision for dogs. So he had to wait outside. Next day he was 
 seriously ill, and for a whole week he lingered in great suffering 
 without any apparent cause. It has been suggested that he was 
 
 H H 
 
466 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 maliciously poisoned by some miscreant, but we tried to believe 
 it was a case of sun-stroke. 
 
 The following Sunday he died, and though he was “ only a dog,” 
 few human beings have been more truly missed and mourned. 
 He was buried beneath a fine old beech-tree beside the water 
 where he used to sit and contemplate things in general. And 
 this is all I have to tell you about the dear hill dog. He was the 
 first dog I had ever cared to call my own, and he has had no 
 successor, for herein I hold with that faithful dog-lover who said, 
 “ On n'a dans la vie qu'un chien , comme on ?i'a qu im amour ! ” 
 
 We remained one day more in Ramnee forest, then started 
 again. At first our route lay through greenwood—filbert, elm, ash, 
 walnut, horse-chestnut, and so on. Then along very precipitous 
 cliffs above the Sutlej, on the opposite side to those we had 
 traversed on our way up the valley. The river seemed fuller, and 
 its yellow waves more noisy and boisterous than ever. We could 
 scarcely believe those who assured us that a month or two later, 
 when the snows had ceased to melt, a calm clear river reflecting 
 the blue sky would here run its peaceful course. We had now 
 reached Wangtu, whence we merely retraced our former steps. 
 Three miles more brought us back to Nachar, where we again 
 camped so as to overlook the green glade beneath the great deodars. 
 
 The rains were now setting in in good earnest; yet such sunny 
 hours as came between the storms seemed all the more brilliant in 
 contrast with the sullen grandeur that had gone before, when 
 the dark clouds had rolled away, and the distant thunder still 
 muttered among the black crags, giving a voice to every mountain, 
 so that wooded valleys and icy peaks seemed to call one another 
 in some strange language of their own. We halted here another 
 week, partly detained by lack of coolies, for the cholera had not 
 stayed its ravages, and many more victims had died while we 
 were up the valley. To us it was no hardship to be detained 
 in such beautiful quarters. 
 
 We explored different forests—for the most part, however, 
 sorely devastated by the hand of man ; while here and there the 
 shattered pieces mark the ravaging storms that sweep down from 
 
A MOUNTAIN STORM. 
 
 467 
 
 the mountains with such overwhelming force—grim, weather-beaten 
 veterans, stately mourners that will not bend though often the tall 
 stems are stripped of their limbs, and remain torn, battered, 
 and desolate. 
 
 Sometimes we lingered in the forest under shelter of some great 
 rock, to watch the gathering storm, when the low “ soughing ” 
 of the wind in the tree-tops and the hush of every twittering bird 
 told what was coming. Then over earth and sky would spread a 
 lurid, leaden colour, stern, cold, and desolate. Grey clouds, grey 
 rocks, grey stems. Soon the distant trees begin to rustle and bend, 
 heralding the approach of the tempest, and the wind sweeps down 
 in hollow intermittent gusts and then loses itself in the forest, 
 howling and moaning on its way. The gusts come quicker 
 and quicker, till the wind is incessant. The tall pine-trees bend 
 and sway and writhe, as though wrestling with some invisible foe, 
 raging in fury. Sometimes they disappear in the cloud wreath. 
 Then comes a crash, and some great stem has snapped and fallen, 
 mortally wounded by the spirit of the storm. The hills are 
 all shrouded in grey drift, and heavy blackness rests on the 
 mountain-tops, but every now and again, the whole earth and 
 heavens are lighted by the crimson fires that play round the 
 summits, 
 
 “ Flashing through lurid night infernal day.” 
 
 Then a rumbling, rolling sound tells that some riven rock has been 
 shaken down by the thunder, and leaping from height to height is 
 dashing downward in headlong career. 
 
 Presently the lightning’s glare is followed by an awful darkness, 
 and a perfect deluge of rain. It is more than rain—it is a water 
 spout. Then comes a sudden change. The tempest is past, the 
 rain ceases, the storm-spirits flee, and capricious lights and 
 shadows begin to play hide-and-seek in every corner where you 
 least expect them. First comes one vivid gleam falling on moss- 
 gnarled stems, and revealing delicate ferns in the sheltered crevices 
 of the rock. Soon the sun bursts forth in his glory, and shows 
 every hill-side streaked with silvery streamlets, while in the valley 
 
 H h 2 
 
468 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 float white wreaths of mist, noiseless as spirits, which glide 
 ghostlike through those dark glades, shrouding the ghastly, 
 burnt trees with softest, fleeciest drapery, and lending a strange 
 veil of mystery to the primeval forest, where every bough of 
 the gaunt old timber is bearded with pale grey lichens, falling 
 in long filaments from beneath the dark foliage of the pines. 
 There is nothing so deathlike as this silence of the mist, when 
 your own footfall sounds dull and muffled, and even the insects 
 cease to chirp; awed by that still spiritual presence of 
 
 “Ancient silence, robed in thistledown.” 
 
 There was one crag not far from our tents that was my especial 
 delight on a misty evening such as this. A patch of the forest 
 had accidentally been burnt years previously ; but still the ghostly 
 white stems pointed heavenward, like weird fingers, and the place 
 had such an eerie feeling of desolation and solitude that the 
 dullest imagination could not fail to people it with spirits such as 
 the Paharis recognise. I found my way back to the same spot 
 night after night. 
 
 Looking from here, one day, we saw a curious effect of what 
 seemed to be quivering light in the valley. At first we thought it 
 was the tremulous haze of steam rising; then it seemed almost 
 like a snow shower, with the bright sun glittering on each dazzling 
 flake. We could scarcely believe those who assured us that it 
 was “ only a locust cloud ” : yet so it was, the valley was full of 
 them. They had come, tempted doubtless by the lovely pale 
 green fields, of which they would soon make sore havoc, and 
 meanwhile, as the light glanced on their gauzy wings, the whole 
 air seemed quivering. 
 
 Once more we started on our homeward route, still retracing 
 our former steps, yet often almost wondering whether the scenes 
 so altered by rapid growth of vegetation could really be the same. 
 The change of our own valleys from the barren ploughed lands of 
 March to the laughing harvest-fields of August could not be more 
 complete. Each mossy stem was now clothed to the topmost 
 bough with every species of graceful fern, growing in wild luxu- 
 
IN THE RAINS. 
 
 469 
 
 riance. Each crevice of the rocks, each stem of fallen tree, was 
 alike veiled with the same delicate tracery ; the light, feathery 
 fronds of what we call hothouse ferns: some powdered with gold, 
 some with silver, some smooth and glossy, some like finest lace- 
 work. And the ground below was one bed of dewy moss 
 brilliant with large white anemones, scarlet or crimson potentilla, 
 and masses of forget-me-not of a blue more vivid than any paint 
 can render. Whole fields of the plant we call “ Prince’s Feather ” 
 are here cultivated as grain, and a beautiful crop it is; the grain 
 being of the deepest crimson, hanging like a plume, while the 
 leaves are vivid scarlet. These lie like patches of deep red, 
 among the rich ripening corn-fields, and light green pasture 
 lands, which here and there nestle amid the dark forest. 
 
 - The hills we had left so dreary and brown, were now one vivid 
 green, with deep blue shadows running right up to the snows, and 
 showing red and purply cliffs, the whole half-veiled by soft 
 mysterious “clouds of dewy steam,” which one of our men 
 pointed out, unconsciously reminding us of our unscientific 
 translation of King David’s words. “ See,” he said, “ how the 
 mountains do smoke ! ” 
 
 Beautiful as were the curling vapours, revealing wonderful 
 glimpses of mountains magnified even beyond reality, and vivid 
 the glorious outgoings of morning and evening, we bitterly re¬ 
 gretted the fate which was bringing us more and more into the 
 rains, the ground in many places being so complete a swamp that 
 camping was impossible, and we were generally compelled to halt 
 at the road bungalows. Several of these were in process of re¬ 
 building, so that on one night a couple of sheds, with a fine view 
 of the sky thiough the open rafters, and on another, one unfinished 
 room with neither door nor window to keep out the drifting storm, 
 was the only refuge for all our party — human and animal, young 
 hill partridges and Pahari puppies included. The servants found 
 refuge under a big rock, in a cactus-grove hard by (the cactuses 
 were as large as well-grown elder-trees), and there turned out a 
 dinner which to us, blessed with keen mountain hunger, seemed 
 all that could be desired. 
 
470 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 At Kotghur our friends at the Mission Station lent us a 
 charming bungalow on the hill at Tbandarh for as long as we 
 liked to remain. Right glad we were when we had accomplished 
 the last steep ascent of five thousand feet, and once more reached 
 the pleasant rest-house, overlooking the tea-plantations. It was 
 with positive joy that we heard the wearisome roar of the Sutlej 
 growing fainter and fainter, till at last it became merely a low, 
 distant murmur that from time to time floated upward in whispering 
 echoes on the pine-scented breeze. 
 
 It was with great regret that we at length bade adieu to our 
 kind friends Herr Rebsch and his family, who had proved such 
 good friends in time of need. On my last morning, when I was 
 to start alone for Narkunda, I went down the hill at break of day, 
 and spent a pleasant hour sketching their vine-covered home. 
 After a cheery breakfast, I went on my way rejoicing, escorted for 
 same distance by these kind genii of the wilds. As we passed 
 through their orchard (where European fruits grow well—peaches 
 as standard trees, and apples and pears in abundance) they shook 
 a laden tree for my special benefit, and filled my dandie with 
 golden apples, a share of which won the hearts of many brown 
 bairns. 
 
 My companions remained at Thandarh two days longer, but I 
 was anxious to halt at Narkunda to finish a drawing. On arriving 
 there I was greeted by dear little Ramnee, the hill puppy, whom I 
 had left at Thandarh with his brother, but who came in search of 
 me on his own account. So he and I went off drawing together; 
 and two lovely brown children, all eyes and eyelashes, who had 
 seen me gathering flowers, devoted the whole afternoon to col¬ 
 lecting armfuls of scarlet, and white, and blue, till they had heaped 
 up a flower-wall round us. 
 
 Next morning was g'orious. Just the day to paint in Hatto 
 forest; so thither we went, Ramnee and I, with the usual lot of 
 brown Highlanders. Far overhead the tall tree-tops were still 
 wreathed with clustering masses of red and white roses clambering 
 in endless profusion to the very topmost boughs, and thence 
 hanging in rich festoons, while every breath that stirred sprinkled 
 
'—' 
 
HATTO FOREST. 
 
THE MIST. 
 
 4 71 
 
 the earth with showers of rosy petals. And the ruddy sunlight 
 shone warm on roses and trees, and played in broken gleams on 
 the feathery undergrowth of ferns and reeds, glancing on the 
 velvety black and gold mosses till they, too, sparkled like jewels. 
 And far above all, the glittering ice-peaks seemed to reach up into 
 heaven, and their brightness so dazzled our sight that as we gazed 
 they seemed to lose themselves in the glowing light. 
 
 But our path lay down the hill, and from the valley far beneath 
 us, quiet grey mists were silently stealing upwards. Soon we had 
 left the sunlight, and the shadow of the great pine-forest encom¬ 
 passed us. Still we descended, and slowly the mists were creeping 
 upwards, and a chill breath seemed to go before them, as though 
 giving warning of their approach, and hushing all nature to silence. 
 Even my brownies shivered as we entered that cloud. As they 
 carried me down, it felt as though they were bearing me on into 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death. On every side white spirits 
 seemed to float, impalpable, and grave, and solemn. As I stretched 
 out my hands it seemed as though I could well-nigh grasp some 
 tangible form, but the pale shrouded ghosts passed on unheeding, 
 with slow, measured, noiseless pace. 
 
 Even the trees seemed floating by, as if I were at rest and they 
 in motion. The rugged half-burnt stems seemed transformed to 
 earth-dwarfs and frost-demons — those strange shadowy beings who 
 dwell in these dark forests. On every side the tall cedars reached 
 out giant arms. They seemed doubly giants now — pale diaphanous 
 blue ghosts, like the shadowy, moonlit heroes of weird German or 
 Gaelic legends ; mighty sentinels, keeping watch in solemn silence 
 — an oppressive silence ; a stillness so intense that you could not 
 but feel it. Fain would I have broken the spell by speaking some 
 human words, but I could find none, for the language of the hill- 
 men was to me an unknown tongue ; and the brownies, too, were 
 hushed, like every living thing. 
 
 Soon the chill mist gave place to heavy drops of rain, and ere 
 we had time to seek a sheltering rock a very deluge was upon 
 us. No English rain, gentle and summery — not even an English 
 storm--but a rain pouring as though the floodgates of heaven 
 
472 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 were opened wide and their work must be done quickly. Soon 
 from every crag the waters were rushing down, leaping in sudden 
 torrents ; and the path seemed gliding from beneath our feet, 
 while streams rushed past us, as though along their natural 
 channel. Then overhead the heavens gathered blackness. The red 
 lightning streamed and flashed on every side, till to our blinded eyes 
 it seemed to glance down the black tree-stems at our very feet. 
 
 When the storm had in some measure abated, we returned to 
 Narkunda soaked and crestfallen. It was mortifying to see the 
 calm sunshine in the afternoon, as if the morning’s work had 
 been all a dream. As usual, however, it was only a case of 
 reculerpour mieux sauter, and at night again the whirling tempest 
 raved and shook the house, and the tall pines rocked in the 
 howling blast, while all manner of plaintive night-voices mingled 
 with the roaring of mountain torrents, swollen by the rains. 
 
 “ The thousand sparkling rills 
 That from a thousand fountains burst 
 And fill with music all the hills.” 
 
 Henceforth each day’s march was just the same story with 
 variations. Nowhere were we more struck by the grandeur of 
 storm effects than in the black pine-forests of Hatto and Mahasso. 
 Beautiful as these had been in sunlight, the intense, misty dark¬ 
 ness now overhanging them gave a weird solemnity to the scene, 
 which lent to it an inexpressible charm. Every day we were 
 overtaken by terrific thunderstorms, which crashed around us with 
 deafening grandeur; then lingering echoes reverberated from one 
 dark mountain to another, and ere they died away the next vivid 
 flash of lightning seemed playing all around us. In truth it was 
 very glorious, and we felt only exhilaration at the majesty of the 
 scene. 
 
 Still there is no denying that our perceptions of the sublime 
 were apt to be somewhat damped by the drenching rains that 
 invariably followed, and that, when at length on a day of calmest 
 sunshine, we once more found ourselves at Simla—- 
 
 “a wondrous token 
 
 Of Heaven’s kind care, with necks unbroken” 
 
SIMLA IN THE RAINS. 
 
 473 
 
 —we were forced to admit that its luxuries were very charming, 
 and that a cheery welcome home was no bad termination to our 
 delightful three months in the wilds. 
 
 I fear we must have bored our friends a good deal with the 
 attempt to make them realise the scenes in which we had found 
 such enjoyment, for of course all verbal descriptions must be full 
 of sameness, while nature is always varied ; and we may use up 
 all the superlatives expressive of beauty without conveying the 
 ghost of an idea of what the reality was. At best our bored 
 hearer can but evolve some fancy picture from out his “inner 
 consciousness.” In the present instance, however, there was as 
 much to hear as to tell. Simla small-talk for three months—births, 
 marriages, and oh ! how many deaths ! 
 
 Then we got our map of the Himalayas to trace our route, and 
 felt what pigmies we were when we found that the whole ground 
 of our three months’ wanderings lay between the H and the I of 
 
 HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS 
 
 and that the mountain region covered a tract well-nigh as wide as 
 it was long! 
 
 For a whole month longer the rains continued, sometimes 
 pouring and clattering, till you would have fancied the house must 
 be washed away—a perfect deluge. There was no whole day, 
 however, of which some hours, or at least some small portion, was 
 not beautiful, all the more so b^ contrast; but even then the whole 
 world seemed shrouded in dense grey mist, veiling the hills, and 
 trees, and sky. 
 
 We were, indeed, true children of the mist, for often from dawn 
 till night it encompassed us on every side, sweeping into the house 
 in dull leaden clouds, so thick that often we could scarcely see the 
 other end of the verandah, or even the tall Indian oaks close 
 round the house, or the tops of those growing on the khad below, 
 whose masses of dark foliage appeared one moment only to vanish 
 the next, like spectres in a dream. Even the ferns, which fringed 
 the dripping branches, looked black, as the light mist played in 
 and out amongst them. 
 
474 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Perhaps after several consecutive days of this dull, grey cloud- 
 world, some invisible hand seemed to draw aside the thick curtain 
 for a moment, and show you a glimpse of what might well seem a 
 spirit-land—a few glittering peaks of snow, distant upwards of a 
 hundred miles. You never saw the whole range ; only a little 
 mysterious peep, perhaps just flushed with rosy light. No fore¬ 
 ground—no middle-distance—nothing but one little rift in the 
 grey cloud-curtain. Before you had half drunk in this vision of 
 delight, it was gone. Perhaps a few moments later you might 
 catch a glimpse of the valley far below you,—of deep khads richly 
 wooded, or terraced fields of many colours, dotted with tiny 
 villages, or perhaps only a sweeping drapery of emerald green 
 pasture, like smoothest velvet, or it might be a group of dark 
 oaks and rhododendrons, with blackest foliage. But only one 
 thing at a time, and all else utterly blotted out in cold grey mist, 
 as if a great picture had all been sponged clean out, save some 
 little pet bit in the middle. There was, however, almost always an 
 hour before sunrise when the whole snowy range stood clear from 
 end to end—in clear cold outline. Then soon after dawn, the 
 mist rose. 
 
 With the rains came an increase of insect life; nothing very 
 serious however. A considerable number of those lovely little 
 silver fish-insects, which riddle muslin and destroy paper with their 
 sharp invisible teeth. And a vast number of flying creatures, a 
 sort of ant, I believe, which dropped countless wings all over the 
 table every night. In fact, but for their wings, we should hardly 
 have noticed their presence. 
 
 But our bath-rooms were the favourite haunts of horrible 
 creatures. Some people found scorpions, and occasionally the 
 mother scorpion carried several babies on her back! when the 
 whole family were exterminated at one fell swoop. Our discoveries 
 were limited to creatures with lean bodies, and a hundred long, 
 hair-like legs; not the true centipede, but doubtless some near 
 relation. And as to spiders ! ! ! There is a picture by Gustave 
 Dore showing “ The spare attic ” in some fairy tale, where every 
 corner of the room is haunted by huge, hairy, horrible black 
 
LEECHES. 475 
 
 spiders with long thick legs. That spare attic is the counterpart 
 of every Indian bath-room in the rains. 
 
 Occasionally, to complete your entomological studies, you may 
 find a young leech in your tub. These abound in the warm damp 
 valleys, and sometimes find their way even here. They are of two 
 species— the land and the water leech ; and prove intensely annoy¬ 
 ing both to human beings and other creatures, as they lie hidden 
 in rank vegetation or in deep stagnant pools, and fasten on the 
 animals that come to drink, getting into their nostrils or throat, or 
 adhering to the legs of human beings. The natives rub the bites 
 with tobacco and lemon-juice, with some effect. But once a leech 
 has taken up its abode in the nostrils of a dog, it is very difficult to 
 extract it again. The poor creature’s head swells. Everything is 
 tried by turns. It it tied up far from w r ater, and its nostrils filled 
 with salt. Then after some hours it is brought close to water, yet 
 not allowed to drink. A cup of Tantalus, it is thought, will induce 
 the leech to crawl out. Even this rarely answers, and the only 
 remedy is for some native to sit watching for hours with pinchers, 
 ready to seize the little black head the moment it appears. 
 
 The “rains” made wonderfully little difference in the gregarious 
 propensities of the Simla world. There was just the same continu¬ 
 ous round of balls, theatricals, concerts, parties of all sorts, by day 
 and by night, and a very pleasant social life it was, whenever the 
 weather happened to be fine—and somehow it had rather a kindly 
 habit of clearing up towards evening — so that on the whole, a 
 wetting was not quite so common as might have been expected, 
 and we learnt to look on waterproof cloaks as the natural finish of 
 our evening toilets. 
 
 As the rains began to cease, the country became beautiful, the 
 hills so clear, the people so pleasant, that it became a matter of 
 positive regret when the last day of September came, on which I 
 was again to leave my own people and go to other old friends at 
 the hill station of Massourie, alias Landour : the former being the 
 Civil, the latter the Military division of the same station on the 
 great mountains, of which I thus obtained another glimpse far 
 away from the scene of our previous wanderings. 
 
4 7 6 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 My start was delayed a few days, owing to a landslip which 
 carried away part of the new road, and there was no possibility of 
 getting away by it, and not a coolie could be obtained to go by the 
 other road. The Dak Gharry {alias little travelling van) Company 
 had now for the first time discovered that it was possible for 
 a carriage with real horses to go up and down moderate hills with 
 a good road ; and that instead of the journey from Simla to Kalka 
 involving a three days’ march, it might very easily be done in one. 
 So startling a discovery had hardly yet explained itself to the 
 Indian mind, and in fact, the only time the experiment had been 
 tried had, I think, been the day before the landslip, when the 
 carriage had unfortunately rolled over the khad with all its 
 inmates. 1 
 
 However, I had every intention of repeating the experiment, so 
 waited patiently till the road was repaired. I confess I had some 
 qualms as to how my six words of execrable Hindustani would 
 carry me over so long a journey. However, in India these 
 matters are made very simple to the verdant traveller Some one 
 “lays your Dak” from Simla to Umballa. Thence the railway to 
 Seharanpore is of course plain sailing. And there you find that 
 your friends at Massourie have again “ laid your Dak ” right up to 
 their door. In fact you are merely a bundle of goods, consigned 
 to a series of intelligent natives, who will not fleece you more than 
 they can be sure of doing with impunity. 
 
 As no carriage is allowed to enter Simla, this enterprising 
 company had established itself beside the new road, about a mile 
 below the town, fully tw’o miles from our house. Thither I went 
 by agreement, early in the forenoon, preceded by all my worldly 
 goods. But owing to one delay after another, and conflicting 
 reports as to the condition of the road, it was 4 p.m. when my 
 gharry started at a tearing canter downhill. That of course was 
 too good to last. The road all along was frightfully cut up; and 
 when we got a few miles from Simla the parapets had all been 
 washed away, and were replaced by piles of small rocks, which 
 
 1 I believe the attempt to run carriages on this road was very soon given up, 
 owing to several serious accidents having occurred. 
 
SIMLA DAK TRAVELLING. 
 
 477 
 
 had rolled down from the hills into the road, and had thus come 
 in useful in building a temporary dyke, the road itself being just 
 sufficiently cleared to enable us to pass, and still very much 
 resembling the bed of a mountain torrent, in which, indeed, the 
 waters were still flowing. 
 
 The owner of the carriage, or gharry, or caravan, had requested 
 me to spend the night at Kyrie Ghat, to avoid the danger of 
 travelling in the dark. There we were due in a couple of hours. 
 However, it took us more than that time to get half way. As we 
 neared the landslip, which it was very desirable to pass in good 
 daylight, we found a whole bullock-train, extending over nearly 
 half a mile, encamped for the night, in double row along the road, 
 blocking it so effectually that the bullocks had to be yoked, and 
 heavy waggons drawn aside, ere the carriage could pass. Long 
 ere this was accomplished the sun had set; and we had still seven 
 miles before us. 
 
 The horses at tire next stage were such miserable brutes that 
 they could not move the carriage at all. A whole hour was 
 wasted in vainly battling with them. One of them fell three 
 separate times, and then apparently went through all the agonies 
 of death. It was sickening to witness. At last the vain attempt 
 was given up. The coachman and syce went off leading the one 
 available horse, and as soon as they were gone the other staggered 
 to his feet again—poor brute ! There I sat alone in the dark 
 for a whole hour, as no lantern was to be obtained. I had made 
 so sure of having no further use for one, that I had left mine in 
 Simla. 
 
 At last two great, comfortable-looking white bullocks were 
 procured, and slowly drew the carrrage to Kyrie Ghat. It was 
 midnight when we reached the Dak Bungalow, and found every 
 room full of sleepers. The old Khansamah brought me out hot 
 tea in the verandah, for which he utterly refused payment; a fact 
 which, together with that of a sweeper having refused all back¬ 
 sheesh when we halted here for so long on our way to Simla, is 
 worthy to be recorded in letters of gold, being quite without 
 parallel. I tried to sleep in the gharry for the next three hours, 
 
47 S 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 by which time, there was clear moonlight; then, calculating that 
 there was no time to spare, we again started, and except when the 
 horses took to jibbing, which they occasionally did for half an 
 hour at a time, found no further difficulty. 
 
 When daylight broke it was pleasant to see how here also the 
 brown hills, which in the early spring had seemed to us so hideous, 
 now on this first day of October were all covered with greenest 
 pasture, and softened with a light drapery of mist. And in the 
 little fields grew tall corn of divers sorts—green and gold; hand¬ 
 some crops, eight or ten feet in height. Especially lovely were 
 the blood-red fields of Prince’s Feather—I think the natives 
 call it Baton —they eat the young leaves and the grain which 
 hangs in great tossing plumes of deepest crimson ; each spike was 
 about seven feet high, with scarlet and gold leaves. There was 
 also a pale pink variety; and another yellow, with leaves of 
 rich olive. 
 
 The whole fields were sometimes interlaced with large beautiful 
 convolvuli, fully four inches in diameter; some purest white, 
 others the most vivid blue, pink, or purple ; some white with 
 blue edge and pink heart, in fact all varieties ; but the pure bright 
 blue predominated, like great bright stars against the scarlet grain. 
 And floating amongst these the loveliest butterflies, of every hue— 
 some like burnished gold; others, metallic crimson; some of 
 bronze and delicate violet; some of emerald powdered with golden 
 dust; others, opal or salmon colour; and some that flashed in the 
 sunlight like gleams of silvery azure—all of surpassing loveliness. 
 But I never again saw a pure scarlet dragon-fly like one which 
 tantalized me near Pangi and then fluttered down the rocks far 
 out of reach. 
 
 At midday we reached Kalka, which in the spring had seemed 
 so dry and arid, like an ugly bit of Scotland; now it looked simply 
 lovely, for softest showers had capped the hills with mist, and the 
 fresh greenness of semi-tropical vegetation was quite enchanting. 
 It was also pleasant once more to see a picturesque bazaar, and a 
 fine old banyan tree twisting itself all round an old temple. Here, 
 however, I had short time to pause ; for the jolly old half-caste 
 
KALICA TO UMBALLA. 
 
 479 
 
 landlady, Mrs. Bain, not only “ welcomed the coming ” but cer¬ 
 tainly also “speeded the parting guest,” for she would only allow 
 me five minutes to wash and to swallow hot tea; then started me 
 again, threatening the driver with condign punishment, bamboo 
 backsheesh, and all sorts of dreadful things, if he did not catch 
 the train at Umballa; which he accordingly did, starting as usual 
 at a hard canter down the hill! 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FROM UMBALLA TO MASSOURTE. 
 
 Up the Mohan Pass—Dehra Boon —Night March to Massourie—Grand View 
 of the Snowy Range—also of the Plains—Gorgeous Wild Dahlias— 
 The Convent—Romance Shattered—Military Station at Landour— 
 Customs of the Hill Tribes—Usury and Slavery—Views of the Plains 
 and of the Snowy Range—The Siwalik Range and Giant Fossils— 
 Game. 
 
 Exactly six months had elapsed from the day when we had 
 first set foot on the low spurs of the Himalayas, till I now found 
 myself retracing the same road. On the xst April we had com¬ 
 menced the ascent from Kalka to Simla, and now on the ist 
 October the same cheery landlady was speeding me thence to 
 Umballa—across the belt where the Mighty Range so abruptly 
 blends with the Plains. 
 
 It was a very striking contrast to find oneself one half-hour still 
 toiling up and down among the mountains, where for the last six 
 months I had never seen half an acre of level ground ; and the fol¬ 
 lowing half-hour to be driving over a dead level, as though we were 
 heading straight for a boundless blue sea—but in truth we were 
 only passing to the immeasurable plains. It was the suddenness 
 of the transition that was so strange—and the effect of looking 
 back to the mountains across this wonderfully rich green level 
 foreground was one of most unwonted repose to the eye. 
 
 Each field seemed more beautiful than the last; heavy crops of 
 tall rich grain of every sort, growing to a height of six or eight feet 
 
CROSSING THE GOGGRA. 
 
 481 
 
 —Indian corn, and sugar-cane, the haunt of all manner of birds; 
 golden-crested hoopoes, and bright blue jays, and flocks of tame 
 pigeons, purple, and green, and white; and then large fields of 
 lucerne and other sweet succulent grasses, of which diligent grass- 
 cutters were binding up huge bundles for their masters’ horses, It 
 was so charming to be once more among palm-trees and sweet 
 yellow-tufted acacias, and surrounded by all the picturesque life of 
 the plains — camels, elephants, ekkas, bullock-carriages, natives in 
 
 CROSSING THE GOGGRA. 
 
 fair linen and turbans, even to the darling little grey squirrels that 
 scampered about in every direction. 
 
 We reached Umballa about xo p.m., just catching the train, and 
 four hours (in a comfortable railway carriage, built on purpose for 
 the convenience of sleepers on long journeys) brought me to 
 Seharanpore, where another gharry or van was in readiness. We 
 started all fair, and I soon fell asleep, and awoke towards day¬ 
 break to a sense of unwonted repose, to find the coachman and 
 syce comfortably hubble-bubbling, as they had apparently been 
 
482 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 doing for the Inst hour. We had reached the banks of the Goggra, 
 a wide expanse of sand with a river of moderate size. This, 
 however, when full, is a very different matter, as Lord Clyde 
 found to his cost, when, hoping to have surprised a body of 
 rebels on the bank, he found they had succeeded in crossing just 
 a few hours before, carrying every boat to the other side. The 
 river was in flood, and proved an effectual barrier to his further 
 progress. 
 
 To-day, however, it was moderate; and a whole regiment of 
 half-naked coolies had assembled to drag the carriage across. 
 It really was rather alarming to be thus forcibly carried off, 
 but it was all in the day’s work, and evidently part of the 
 programme. 
 
 After this it was all plain sailing till we reached the Siwalik hills, 
 which separate the plains from the beautiful valley of Dehra. 
 The road lies through the Mohan Pass, when a gradual ascent of 
 six miles brings you to a level two thousand feet above that which 
 you have just left. There can be no reason why horses should 
 not run here, quite as well as along the new road to Simla; but 
 the Indian mind had not then mastered this possibility, so every 
 carriage must either be dragged up the weary six miles by coolies, 
 or else the inmate must be carried in a jampan, while the luggage 
 is divided among coolies just as on a march, another carriage being 
 in readiness at the top of the hill. 
 
 The latter is by far the more rapid method ; but a stupid clerk 
 having misunderstood his orders, insisted on the carriage being 
 dragged up the weary road, to the intense disgust of a whole army 
 of coolies, who gathered round the carriage in vehement expostu¬ 
 lation, and made me plainly understand that they wanted to carry 
 me and my luggage separately. This hubbub had continued for 
 about a quarter of an hour, when to my great satisfaction I espied, 
 as I thought, a fair-haired Englishman sitting under a tree. Think¬ 
 ing he would be able to interpret the rights of the case, I went up 
 to him ; but imagine my disgust on perceiving that the russet 
 locks which I had mistaken for the sure sign of a countryman 
 belonged only to a fair native, who, like certain dark-haired 
 
THE MOHAN PASS. 483 
 
 maidens in our own land, had dyed his glossy black hair a golden 
 auburn! 1 
 
 His imitation of Western fashions had not imparted any know¬ 
 ledge of the English language; so I returned unsuccessfully to the 
 malcontents, and grimly bade them obey the sahib’s hookam, in 
 other words, the orders they had received ; never of course 
 imagining that the clerk could have made so stupid a mistake. 
 All I could do was to soften the unpopular decision by a promise 
 of backsheesh, whereupon a team of fourteen wretched coolies yoked 
 themselves to the heavy carriage, and slowly dragged it up the long 
 ascent of about seven miles. This transaction occupied four hours, 
 during which I walked on, following the course of a brawling moun¬ 
 tain-stream, which rushed down the valley over great rocks and 
 boulders. Here and there a patch of dense jungle, and everywhere 
 endless varieties of tall rank grass, each beautiful. 
 
 All this time I found myself provided with an honorary escort, 
 namely, a white-robed moonshee 2 who had taken a lift on the top 
 of the carriage, and who, in return, was continually bringing me 
 fruit, and insisted on teaching me to chew betel-nut as the greatest 
 delicacy he had to offer. It was unspeakably nasty, and I was 
 thankful next day to find that my teeth were not permanently 
 stained red. 
 
 At the head of the Mohan Pass we first caught sight of the 
 fertile valley of Dehra, or, as it is called, the Dehra Boon, a 
 rich plain, with wealth of tropical vegetation, large clumps of 
 graceful bamboo, and large-leaved plantains; rich crops of all 
 sorts, and here and there picturesque villages. The valley is 
 about sixty miles long and fourteen wide. On its farther side 
 rise the Himalayas, where, at an elevation of 5,000 feet, lie the 
 scattered bungalows of Massourie; and 1,000 feet higher is 
 perched the military sanatorium of Landour, where soldiers from 
 Calcutta and elsewhere are sent on sick leave. 
 
 1 So, at least, I supposed at the time. I am, however, informed that such 
 lusns natures are not unknown, being a phase of albinoism which chiefly 
 affects the hair. 
 
 ■ Scribe, or teacher. 
 
 
4§4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 In the middle of this plain is the town of Dehra, like a lovely 
 English village, each house surrounded with rose hedges, and 
 bowery, billowy greenness. There is scarcely a house that has 
 not its own group of beautiful bamboos, growing with a richness 
 such as I have never seen elsewhere. These form a long avenue 
 as you drive through the town, the general appearance of which 
 is most attractive. No wonder that many old Indians never wish 
 to return to Britain, but make their winter home in this fair semi- 
 tropical spot, and in the warm summer days merely move their 
 camp to Massourie, whence they can look down on the blue, 
 ocean-like plains, while the eternal snows tower above them. 
 
 Driving rapidly through this pretty town, I caught a glimpse 
 of several native temples half hidden in the rich foliage. One 
 in particular was so striking that I resolved to halt here on my 
 return, on purpose to see it. Meanwhile we hurried over the 
 next six miles, and reached the town of Rajpore at the foot of 
 the hills so late in the afternoon that the friends who had come 
 thus far to meet me, had given me up in despair, and I found 
 them just starting for a long evening’s ramble, to which my 
 arrival put a stop. The part of wisdom would have been to 
 remain at the hotel, but it was Saturday night, and I preferred 
 a quiet Sunday at Massourie to spending it on the march ; be¬ 
 sides, the thought of a cheery welcome to a sunny home was very 
 pleasant; so the order was given to have coolies ready at once 
 for my dandie and lighter luggage, my companions trusting to 
 their own walking powers. 
 
 It was with some trouble that these were procured, owing to 
 the immense demand occasioned by the crowds of English 
 flocking to the Dehra races ; moreover the supply of men at 
 Massourie is always rather deficient, and doubly so now, owing 
 to the high wages given at Sacrata, a new hill-station in this 
 district. Of course the number of men required is immense, as 
 not only must every household have its own regiment of human 
 ponies, but all supplies of every species of goods must be carried 
 up from the plains on men’s shoulders. You can scarcely con¬ 
 ceive anything more awkward than to meet a dozen men, or more, 
 
A BAD NIGHT MARCH. 485 
 
 carrying heavy furniture^ such, for instance, as a great piano, up 
 these narrow footpaths. 
 
 To a population thus dependent on the multitude of human 
 workers, any cause that diminishes the supply is a serious matter. 
 Imagine, then, the effect of a story having, some years ago, been 
 circulated among the hill tribes that the Europeans required a 
 vast supply of “ Pahari oil,” and intended to take every hill man, 
 woman, or child, whom they could catch, and hang them up by 
 the heels before a big fire in order to extract their oil ! This story 
 was so universally believed that all the coolies ran away from 
 Massourie, and were only persuaded by slow degrees to return ; 
 and for months they continued to work tremblingly, still believing 
 in danger. Indeed it was some years before they were altogether 
 satisfied about the matter. 
 
 To-night there was considerable difficulty in procuring even 
 six men to carry my dandie, bedding, and bag, and we found 
 out, too late, that they had only been bribed to go at all by 
 receipt of double pay in advance , and the promise of backsheesh 
 at their journey’s end. 
 
 How we came to start without a lantern I cannot imagine. 
 Generally the natives are in such terror of leopards that they will 
 not stir from one house to the next without either torch or lantern. 
 To-night, however, we started on this twelve miles’ march without 
 one. Our path was a narrow zigzag, cut in the face of the hill, 
 and running up pretty steeply. Very soon the sun set, and thick 
 darkness with heavy mist rolled down upon us. The thick foliage 
 of the oaks which overshadowed the path added so much to the 
 obscurity of the night that we could scarcely distinguish anything. 
 
 Thus we plodded on for the first four miles, when with a sudden 
 bump I found myself sitting on the ground, on the very verge of 
 the khad, over which my leader had walked, vanishing in the 
 darkness. The others raised a shout of “ Killed, killed ! ” which 
 was truly horrible to hear. Happily the poor fellow had stuck 
 half way, and before long managed to scramble up again, having 
 mercifully escaped with some bad cuts and bruises. Had we 
 been a few steps farther, he would have bad a frightful fall. What 
 
436 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 possessed the other wretches I cannot imagine, but they main¬ 
 tained that another man had fallen over, and as several other 
 coolies had by this time overtaken us, we could not possibly 
 distinguish whether one of ours was missing. We vainly shouted 
 down the khad, but there came no answer—and they all declared 
 the man must be dead. There was nothing for it but to despatch 
 one of them to the nearest village, about a mile farther, for ropes 
 and lanterns. I need scarcely say he never returned ! 
 
 After some delay another traveller came down the hill, and by 
 the light of his lantern we had the pleasure of just distinguishing 
 all our rascals taking to their heels, leaving us alone with the 
 wounded man, who proved a very good fellow. As soon as he had 
 recovered sufficiently to walk, we pushed on to the village, leaving 
 the dandie at a corner of the road. Here we found the two baggage 
 coolies quietly waiting with their bundles to see what would happen 
 next. They declared the others had fled for fear of being beaten 
 for letting me fall ! a dread which, I must say, was by no means 
 justified, as these men are generally treated with great kindness by 
 the English. In the present instance, the three who remained were 
 treated to an extra supper by way of encouragement, immediately 
 after which, one of them bolted. But the poor wounded man 
 shouldered the bundle of the runaway and marched cheerily on. 
 
 We had still six miles to walk, up lull, about two miles being 
 generally my utmost limit, and to-day I had already trebled my 
 average in walking up the Mohan Pass. However there was 
 nothing for it but a grim determination as usual to set a stout 
 heart to the stey brae. It was now pitch dark, and although we 
 had succeeded in borrowing a lantern from the merchant, not a 
 bit of candle could be obtained. Luckily, oh joy! I recollected 
 a small piece in the depths of my bag; a treasure which was 
 forthwith fished out. Then we started cheerily. By this time the 
 rain was pouring in a perfect deluge, literally like a waterspout, 
 and rushing down the path, till it felt as if we were walking in a 
 river against the current. A violent gust blew out the feeble lamp, 
 leaving us in total darkness, feeling our way with one hand along 
 the side of the khad. 
 
THE PLAINS FROM MASSOWRIE. 
 Looking across Dehra Doon to the Siwalik Range. 
 
WILD DAHLIAS AT MASSOURIE. 
 
 487 
 
 At last we espied a hut, where we again got a light, and so 
 struggled on till we reached Massourie, and found ourselves on 
 the Mall, an excellent broad road. We had still a long and very 
 steep ascent before we reached the top of Vincent’s Hill, where we 
 arrived at midnight, to receive such a welcome as made amends 
 for all the dangers and perils of the night : only one sad memorial 
 of that midnight expedition still haunts me, in the shape of a 
 beloved old manuscript music-book, whose blurred and blotted 
 pages show too plainly how grievously its constitution suffered on 
 that occasion ! 
 
 Sunday, as you may imagine, was a genuine day of rest. We 
 could see the pretty church in the heart of Massourie, but the 
 thought of the long descent and the weary climb up again 
 was quite too much. It was enough for to-day, that sky, 
 plains, and snows were all steeped in rest and in sunshine, and 
 that every voice of nature seemed to blend in one joyous hymn 
 of praise. / 
 
 From the house itself we looped right down, past wooded hills, 
 to the Dehra Doon, six thousand feet below. Beyond, as on a 
 map, lay the low range of the Siwalik hills, intersecting the pic¬ 
 ture, and beyond that again, two thousand feet below, stretched the 
 plains—a wide expanse of blue, vanishing in a boundless hori¬ 
 zon in soft atmospheric blending of earth and sky. Here and 
 there fine threads of glittering silver marked the course of divers 
 rivers. On the one hand the Jumna, on the other the Ganges, and 
 far in the distance a little straight line, like a scratch of a pin, 
 represented the great Ganges Canal. 
 
 All round us were grassy hills, studded with grey rocks and 
 Indian oak, of which not the mossy stem alone, but literally every 
 branch, was covered with rare ferns of every species. And now, in 
 the beginning of October, every bank was literally carpeted with 
 wild flowers in richest luxuriance. 
 
 Above all, every here and there you came on a perfect jungle of 
 brilliant dahlias, possibly once tame, as I do not hear of them else¬ 
 where in these hills ; and so it has been suggested that they must 
 have been brought here by the first settlers. In any case, they are 
 
483 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 wild enough now, and grow in patches of half an acre together, in 
 such dense luxuriance that you can hardly distinguish one green 
 leaf. They are almost all single 1 and very large, and of every 
 brilliant colour that you could possibly imagine—white, yellow, 
 orange, scarlet, lilac, purple, deepest maroon—literally one dazzling 
 blaze of colour. To lie on a grassy bank, looking up past such a 
 sea of colour as this, to the grey rocks and intense blue of the sky, 
 is a sense of bliss rarely equalled ! It seems as though the sun’s 
 rays fell through crystal prisms, scattering rainbow lights in every 
 direction. 
 
 It certainly is quite a new sensation in dahlias to see these lovely 
 blossoms which have never been subjected to the rigid educational 
 theories of gardeners growing up, as Nature intended them to do, 
 with all the freedom of gigantic anemones. They are as different 
 in charm from the highly cultivated dahlias of our flower-shows, as 
 a judge’s tightly curled wig differs from the glossy ringlets of a 
 joyous child ! 
 
 In the afternoon we crept up to a hillock just above the house, 
 where the grey rocks were fringed with scarlet Virginia creeper and 
 other graceful plants. We still looked down on the boundless 
 earth-ocean below us, and across the scattered town of Massourie, 
 which is the abode of civilians, to Landour, the military station ; 
 far beyond which—faint and spiritual—gleamed the mighty fields 
 of everlasting snow ; not a mere line, as at Simla, but apparently 
 twice as high; for Gangoutri, where the Ganges finds its source, is 
 nearer to Massourie than are any snow-peaks to Simla. 
 
 There, far away in the distance, beyond the intervening abyss of 
 deep, blue shadow, lay piled the mighty mountain ridges, rising 
 tier above tier, their shapeless summits lost in soft fleecy clouds, from 
 which, as phantoms in a dream, rose a long line of snowy peaks, 
 stretching light across the horizon ; each form distinct in its own 
 beauty, yet all so soft and shadowy that they almost blended with 
 the sea of billowy grey clouds, above which they seemed to float. 
 
 1 What a curious instance of fashion in garden flowers is the recent discovery 
 of the beauty of single dahlias, as though gardeners had invented some new 
 wonder in suffering a flower to bloom naturally 1 
 
SNOWY RANGE AND LANDOUR FROM MASSOWRTE. 
 
THE CONVENT AT MASSOURIE. 
 
 489 
 
 The rosy evening light just flushed the summits with a delicate 
 pink, marking deep clefts and crevices with a touch of lilac, and 
 melting away into that tender ethereal green, paler than a thrush’s 
 egg, which we know so well in our northern skies. Not a sound 
 broke the intense stillness save the occasional cry of a great brown 
 eagle, soaring in the valley far below, where the deep, calm shadows 
 of night had already hushed the noisy whirr of insect life. 
 
 Never elsewhere have I experienced the same sensation of 
 vastness as when in presence of these two boundless semicircles. 
 One half of that wide horizon was marked only by the faint, hot 
 haze that told of the burning heat of those plains which seemed to 
 stretch away into immeasurable space. And then, you had but to 
 turn your head to behold ridge beyond ridge of huge mountains, 
 heaped together in endless confusion : while from right to left of 
 that horizon the snow-peaks glimmered and melted away into the 
 light. 
 
 I spent a very happy month at Massourie, or rather, I should say> 
 a fortnight there, and a fortnight on Vincent’s Hill, which is 
 incomparably the finer situation, being very much higher, and 
 commanding a more extensive view, including the whole of 
 Massourie and Landour, both of which come in as a foreground 
 to the snowy range. 
 
 The finest position in Massourie is occupied by a great Roman 
 Catholic convent, the sisters of which undertake the education of 
 a very large proportion of the Protestant girls in the station. The 
 convent is perched on the brow of a hill, whence the view on 
 every side is magnificent; in fact, no view to be compared with 
 it is obtainable without a weary scramble to the top of Vincent’s 
 Hill. The bungalow in which we were living is situated at the 
 farther end of this hill, and just above it, at a considerable distance 
 from the convent, lies the little lonely burial-ground where sleep 
 such of the sisters as have died in this far-away land — a peaceful 
 and calm resting-place, with the great solemn hills outspread on 
 every side. To me there was a charm in this quiet nook, associated 
 as it was with the thought of the meek lives that had here spent 
 themselves in patient well-doing. And often at sunset and at dawn 
 
49© 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 I found myself tracing the little woodland path that led from our 
 domicile up to the nuns’ graves, till I had acquired almost a 
 romantic interest in the sisterhood, and a sincere desire to 
 cultivate their acquaintance. 
 
 J udge of the sudden collapse of these kindly feelings, when, 
 one evening, as I was returning alone by the brow of the hill from 
 a distant sketching expedition, and laden with a heavy sketching 
 block and other paraphernalia, lo ! I encountered a grave and 
 silent band of solemn sisters, the foremost of whom accosted me 
 with the utmost acerbity, and informed me that the whole hill and 
 all the walks on it were the private property of the convent, and 
 that I was a trespasser ! Imagine being pursued by such a word 
 even in the Himalayas ! Whether they had legal right on their 
 side I know not. They certainly had might, in point of numbers, 
 whereas 1 was alone and heavily laden, so that there was no use 
 in disputing the question, or in attempting to point out to these 
 irascible and illogical women that the path whereon we stood 
 would in a very few minutes land me at home. I could not well 
 get past them, as they might have given me a rapid impetus down 
 the khad, so there was nothing for it but to return half a mile 
 or more, and descend to the high road, whence all view of the 
 snows was effectually shut out by the very hill whereon those 
 sour and selfish old maids were taking their eventide con¬ 
 stitutional. I need scarcely say that such rare lack of courtesy 
 dispelled at once, and for ever, all romantic illusions concerning 
 the meek and holy sisters, and that my future visits to the hill-top 
 were so judiciously timed as to avoid further acquaintance with 
 them, though I am bound to add that I heard them highly spoken 
 of by sundry Protestant mothers who had intrusted their daughters 
 to their charge. 
 
 The weather became daily more and more cloudless, and we 
 did pity the victims of that arbitrary law which compels all work¬ 
 ing bees to return to the plains before the 15th of October. Then 
 all the hill-stations seem to empty, as if by magic, within a couple 
 of days. It certainly is a strange regulation, as the hills are 
 just then at their most perfect phase, while the plains are still 
 
MASSOURIE VERSUS SIMLA. 
 
 49 I 
 
 simmering in sultry heat, and many a half-recovered invalid finds 
 out too quickly that he has only returned to this purgatory to lose 
 all that he had gained. 
 
 It is said that Massourie and Landour are very much healthier 
 than the military stations round Simla, where cholera, dysentery, 
 and fever have a full share of victims. Here, as in all the hill 
 stations, the gay season begins in April, when the rhododendrons 
 are in their glory, and continues till the end of September, in one 
 unceasing round of picnics, archery parties, and every variety of 
 evening gaiety, which, as a general rule, have the superlative 
 advantage of early hours. All October and November the climate 
 is simply heavenly, and the sky cloudless. Then in December 
 comes the snow, when the residents flee down the hill to Dehra, 
 where it has very rarely been known to follow them. 
 
 Unlike the houses at Simla, all those here are built like the 
 bungalows of the plains, only one storey high, with pillared 
 veranda of white plaster on stonework. But all alike are 
 perched on artificially level sites. It is the fashion of many 
 people to decry Massourie as being ugly compared with Simla. 
 I cannot say I thought so. Moreover, a sweeping assertion 
 declares that there are no trees here. Here again I can only 
 imagine that they use the word to denote cedars only (just as we 
 in Scotland understand salmon, by the term fish). For though 
 in bygone years all deodars were ruthlessly cut down, as a ridiculous 
 sanitary measure, there still remain rich masses of rhododendron 
 and Indian oak, where troops of brown monkeys and grey 
 langours disport themselves right merrily; while the especial 
 peculiarity of Massourie is the' number of its small weeping 
 willows. Now, all timber is so strictly preserved that it is a 
 matter of difficulty to get sufficient firewood ; and all wood for 
 other purposes is absurdly expensive. 
 
 The hill people hereabouts are in some respects different from 
 those among whom we have been wandering hitherto. They are 
 said to be pure Hindoos, though here also all religious feeling 
 seems vague and undefined. Every household has its special 
 god or deota, to which one corner of the house is assigned. 
 
49 2 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Sometimes you may meet wild-looking men almost naked, daubed 
 all over with yellow powder, made from the blossom of the pine- 
 tree. These are generally returning from a curious religious 
 dance, when a whole village goes mad for several days; men and 
 women supposing themselves to be possessed by evil spirits, or 
 at least pretending to be so, and going through all sorts of antics, 
 as if they were bears, monkeys, leopards, or other varieties of 
 wild beasts. 
 
 They have one great festival at midsummer, when the milk of 
 three whole days is collected and consecrated to the use of the 
 temple. On the feast day each family brings its offering. The head 
 man of the village dips a bunch of flowers into each lota full of 
 milk, and therewith sprinkles the image (the deota) which has been 
 brought out gaudily dressed. All the milk is then emptied into 
 one vessel and every one is invited to drink. The village street is 
 strewn with flowers, and men and women are both adorned in their 
 gayest raiment, wearing bunches of flowers. 
 
 When a Pahari dies, in this district of Garwhal, his relations 
 shave the head and beard, and make much lamentation for ten 
 or twelve days, during which they must abstain from all pleasant 
 food, such as meat or ghee. They must also refrain from hunt¬ 
 ing. At the end of their time of mourning they offer a sacrifice 
 to the spirit of the departed, and go their way. Should he, how¬ 
 ever, have died from any epidemic, such as cholera or small-pox, 
 no public mourning is allowed. In the districts where wood is too 
 expensive to be wasted on funeral pyres, it is customary simply to 
 expose the dead on a hill-top, where the fowls of the air quickly 
 dispose of him. 
 
 Hindoos though they be, there seems to be no prejudice among 
 these people against the re-marriage of widows, and should such 
 a one remove the great nose-ring worn by all wives, it is a sign 
 that she purposes seeking a second mate. Should she have no 
 son, her re-marriage is compulsory, as by the laws of Garwhal the 
 property of a man dying without male issue reverts to the Rajah ; 
 and the term “property” includes all female appendages. So 
 the widow and unmarried daughters are forthwith provided with 
 
USURY AND SLAVERY. 493 
 
 husbands, and the dower paid for them goes to the pocket of the 
 Rajah. 
 
 The people complain in vain of this arrangement. It is said 
 that practically the position of the very poor is abject slavery, 
 as, owing to the amazing extent to which usury is carried, a very 
 small debt once contracted rapidly accumulates such frightful 
 interest, as to become a hopeless clog on the debtor, and in many 
 cases he himself and his family are actually sold in payment 
 of it. Children are sometimes sold to pay their parents’ debts. 
 Thus whether slavery is or is not nominally allowed, it is so vir¬ 
 tually, and the wretched debtors have a life-long period of hard 
 labour for their owners, though the value of their labour soon 
 covers the amount of the original debt. The owner also pockets 
 whatever dowers are paid for any members of the family whom 
 he may see fit to dispose of. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, whose name is celebrated in India as that of a keen 
 and successful sportsman, tells of one instance that came under 
 his notice, in which a man, having broken the leg of a goat, had 
 to borrow two rupees to pay the fine. This debt was allowed to 
 stand over, accumulating interest till it amounted to twelve 
 rupees, when he was seized and sold as a slave, his family and all 
 their work being included in the bargain. The owner had actu¬ 
 ally sold one of the daughters for sixty rupees, and a quarrel about 
 the sale of the second brought the case before Mr. Wilson’s notice. 
 If only these wretched creatures can succeed in running away, 
 and can settle on British territory, they are of course free, but 
 every possible difficulty is thrown in their way. Besides, the love 
 of home amounts, in these men, to a passion, though indeed it is 
 often anything but a “ sweet ” home. 
 
 Amongst all my Himalayan memories none return more 
 pleasantly than the recollection of the early mornings at Mas- 
 sourie, looking down upon a sea of mist, bathed in mellow, 
 rose-coloured light. Then as it slowly rose, a chain of islands 
 would here and there appear, as if floating upon those white 
 billows. These were the peaks of the low Siwalik range ; none 
 of them more than three thousand feet in height. Yet the deep 
 
494- 
 
 in THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 gloomy ravines of those pine-clad hills have an interest lacking 
 to many a higher range ; for in their dark, mysterious solitudes 
 have been discovered such strange and wonderful fossils as 
 have filled geologists with delight; fossils of camels, far larger 
 than any now extant; fossils of tortoises, crocodiles, giraffes, 
 elephants, and hippopotami. Similar discoveries have been 
 made in the Dehra Doon, and all these remains are on a colossal 
 scale. 
 
 For instance, there is the gigantic land tortoise, with shell six 
 inches thick, which measures eight feet across the back, and is 
 upwards of twelve feet in length, while with head and tail pro¬ 
 truded he must have been fully eighteen feet from tip to tip, and 
 stood about six feet high. He is called the Atlas tortoise, as 
 if to suggest the Hindoo legend which tells of that tortoise on 
 the head of which rests the earth. It is supposed that this 
 great creature must have existed until comparatively recent ages, 
 that is to say, till long after the creation of man, as various old 
 Greek travellers have recorded how both in Ceylon, on the shores 
 of the Red Sea and of the Persian Gulf, tortoises and turtles 
 existed so enormous that huts and boats were roofed with a single 
 shell. Even at the present day turtles are sometimes captured 
 which measure from four to five feet in length; such shells, raised 
 on four sticks, make a very fair sunshade. 
 
 Besides the huge elephants, there are found remains of the Siva- 
 there, a heavy ungainly beast, the size of a rhinoceros, adorned 
 with two pairs of horns of different form—one pair on the fore¬ 
 head like those of an ox; and behind these another large massive 
 pair, palmated and branching like those of a fallow deer, but on a 
 gigantic scale. All these revelled in vast forests of teak and dense 
 bamboo jungle. 
 
 Of those great forests small trace now remains, though in the 
 early part of this century the Doon was covered with fine timber, 
 a survival of those dense primeval forests which (from the descrip¬ 
 tions preserved in the old Sanskrit poems) must have clothed the 
 greater part of India at the time of the Aryan invasion. Gradu¬ 
 ally the country was cleared, but vast tracts of hill country in 
 
INDIAN FORESTS. 
 
 495 
 
 central India, and on the slopes of the Himalayas, remained 
 untouched—indeed, were purposely preserved by the men of the 
 plains as a barrier betwixt themselves and the wild mountain 
 tribes whose incursions they had such good cause to dread. 
 
 These mighty belts of forest secured a steady average rainfall, 
 but when under British rule the rapidly increasing population 
 found they had no longer cause to dread their mountain neigh¬ 
 bours, the work of de-forestry was carried on so recklessly, that 
 broad tracts were wholly denuded, and the rainfall so seriously 
 affected as greatly to increase the desolating droughts which result 
 in such terrible famines. The regular timber supply was also 
 seriously diminished by this ruthless destruction, and but for 
 Government interference in the last thirty-five years, in rigidly 
 preserving all such forests as still remain, the whole would ere 
 now have vanished, and Hindoostan would be a treeless waste. 
 
 Now all is under most careful supervision of the Forest Depart¬ 
 ment : the cutting of timber is strictly regulated; stringent precau¬ 
 tions are adopted to guard against fire; some waste districts have 
 been re-clothed by planting millions of timber trees ; others by 
 sowing tons of seeds of shrubs and forest-trees broadcast over the 
 land. Certain forests are wholly reserved; in others the people 
 are allowed to retain hereditary rights of pasturage and wood¬ 
 cutting, while throughout the whole Empire certain tracts are 
 specially reserved to furnish fuel, with a view to possible railway 
 extension. 
 
 It is estimated that the Reserved Forests of India cover an area 
 of about forty-six thousand square miles, in addition to vast tracts 
 of forest which are merely under protection. Apart from the im¬ 
 mense good done to the whole Empire by this work of Forest- 
 Conservancy, it already increases the national revenue by upwards 
 of 310,000/. annually, after paying all its own expenses, which 
 amount to over 557,000/ Altogether it is a great and good 
 work. 
 
 The great belt of dense jungle stretching along the base of the 
 Himalayas formerly gave all this district a very unhealthy charac¬ 
 ter in autumn, owing to the malaria produced by such a mass of 
 
496 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 sodden, decaying vegetable matter, so that the Terai was accounted 
 a very dangerous camping-ground. Where, however, the country 
 has been cleared, and fertile cornland has replaced the wilderness, 
 the whole character of the valley has changed, so that beautiful 
 Dehra Doon may now claim to have her old ill fame forgotten as 
 a dream of the past. 
 
 She still, however, keeps some quiet corners, where an occasional 
 wild elephant or bear may be found in spite of multitudinous 
 sportsmen. Leopards, deer, and pigs there find a haven, while 
 snipe and florikan, quail and black partridge, pheasants and pea¬ 
 fowl, still abound. In the rivers are fish enough and to spare. 
 Great mahseer that would mock our finest salmon, fish that think 
 nothing of weighing twelve or sixteen pounds, inasmuch as some 
 have been captured weighing a hundred pounds, and one that 
 weighed 105^ pounds was some years ago caught at Mapoorie with 
 rod and fly. Not bad sport! 
 
 October slipped by all too quickly. Its most marked memories 
 are of exhilarating, bracing air, decidedly chilly in the mornings 
 and evenings—of pink sunrises on the boundless plains—pink 
 sunsets on the eternal snows, with foreground of dark Indian oak; 
 and steepest banks, clothed with a waving sea of gorgeous dahlias, 
 only relieved here and there by patches of grey rock which carry 
 the eye upward till it loses itself in the vivid blue of heaven. 
 Here, indeed, the lover of radiant colour may revel to his heart’s 
 content. 
 
 The very ground near these dahlia beds is rainbow-hued, being 
 strewn with fallen petals. And every jampanee you meet, carrying 
 his mistress out for her airing, is sure to be adorned with some of 
 these bright blossoms. 
 
 Many of these are fine merry lads, and they carried us cheerily 
 up steep hills, or down the deepest valleys to see waterfalls, 
 and explore damp ravines, where on dewy banks or in dark cre¬ 
 vices the rarest and daintiest ferns grow in wild luxuriance, their 
 light feathery fronds weaving a delicate tracery over the black 
 rocks. Here in the cool shade we would sometimes seek shelter 
 during the heat of the deep mid-noon, where only a soft, sub- 
 
PLEASANT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 497 
 
 dued light came trembling through green leaves, just revealing 
 the wonderful intricacy of all that fragile, fairy foliage, such mellow 
 light as calms the spirit like the dim twilight of some old cathedral. 
 Then, when the shades of evening once more called us up from 
 this underworld, it was perhaps to see the grey mist drawn aside, 
 revealing a far-away range of ruby and opal, while the world at our 
 feet was one carpet of rarest emerald. 
 
 So you see Nature has done her work gloriously, and many 
 pleasant human beings did all that in them lay to make Massourie 
 still more delightful. And so it remains stared up amongst 
 memory’s pleasantest pictures. 
 
 K K 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM MASSOURIE TO HARDWAR. 
 
 A Sikh Tomb at Dehra Doon—Sikh Tenets and Sacred Books—Ghoorkas— 
 Animal Sacrifices—Dripping Well—Bamboo, its many Uses—Giant 
 Grasses—Reach Hardwar—Colour of Rivers—Floods—Town of Hardwar 
 —Picturesque People—Sealing up Holy Water—Brass Idols—Architecture 
 —Forest Bungalow. 
 
 While rapidly driving through Dehra on my way to Massourie, 
 I had caught glimpses of divers temples appearing through the 
 rich foliage. There was one in particular which I felt convinced 
 would reward a closer inspection. But as usual when I came to 
 inquire about it, not one of the English inhabitants had ever 
 noticed it, or indeed knew of the existence of any native building 
 of the smallest interest, though the majority had just returned 
 from spending the race week in the little town itself. I was 
 further assured that there was no hotel there where I could put 
 up with any sort of comfort. 
 
 Nevertheless I was fully resolved to halt and have a look at the 
 place. I there found quarters more comfortable and home-like 
 than I had met with in all my experience of Indian hotels, a 
 house kept by a kindly family who took every possible pains to 
 make my stay pleasant. Under their guidance I explored every 
 nook of the pretty town. We went in and out of temples, onto 
 roofs, into gardens, along bamboo avenues, and in fact saw all 
 there was to see. 
 
 The large building that had first attracted my attention was the 
 centre of interest. It proved to be a remarkably fine Sikh tomb, 
 
THE SIKHS. 
 
 499 
 
 in fact it was that of the grandson of Nanak, the founder of the 
 sect. This was the only specimen of their handiwork I ever had 
 a chance of seeing, so it would have been annoying indeed to 
 have passed it by. Its architecture is much the same as that of 
 the great Mohammedan tombs at Delhi and Agra, and the 
 building is on the same colossal scale. There is the same cluster 
 of domes crowning the central building; the same tall minarets 
 at the four corners of the great platform on which the whole is 
 raised. The Sikhs are a sect of Hindoos with very peculiar 
 religious tenets. The most apparent are that they allow no idols; 
 and that they totally eschew tobacco in all forms, but allow a free 
 use of spirits. They also eat all manner of meats: pork, fowls, 
 and eggs, thus making themselves unclean in the sight both of 
 Mohammedans and Hindoos; fowls being as vile in the eyes of 
 the latter, as pork in those of the Mussulman. 
 
 Nevertheless they are as particular as any other sect in up¬ 
 holding the divinity of cattle, and hold that to cause the death of 
 a cow is an offence worthy of death. This tenet was very 
 practically exemplified in 1871, when a body of the Kooka sect 
 made a raid on two villages just outside of Umritsur, inhabited 
 by the town butchers, who in their lawful trade had been guilty of 
 slaughtering cattle. To avenge this sin, the Kookas massacred 
 the inhabitants of both villages. Much to their astonishment, 
 they were duly brought to justice for this outrage, and twelve men 
 were condemned to death by the Court at Lahore. 
 
 In the days of the Moguls, Umritsur frequently changed hands, 
 and when the Mohammedans gained ground they killed cows, 
 and smeared the Holy Fount of Immortality with their blood. 
 When the Sikhs triumphed they slew pigs, and defiled the 
 Mohammedan mosques with the blood of the unclean beasts! 
 
 Although the Sacred Book of the Sikhs apparently inculcates 
 the worship of only one God, they reverence all the principal 
 incarnations of Vishnu, whose symbols are invariably branded on 
 the breast and shoulder of his worshippers. 
 
 The Sikhs hold that, having thus been touched with fire during 
 life, it is unnecessary to burn the body after death. Hence they 
 
 k k 2 
 
5 oo 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 are the only Hindoos who bury their dead, and who take pleasure 
 in erecting tombs to their memory. 
 
 (I am told that certain great Brahman saints are buried instead 
 of being burned, but this is from a belief that owing to their 
 exceeding sanctity they have not died, but are lying entranced. 
 So' the tomb is to them only a place of rest, to which their 
 followers make pilgrimage.) 
 
 The word Sikh means literally Disciple, and though now applied 
 as a national distinction of the people of the Upper Punjaub, it 
 was originally merely the name of a religious sect founded in the 
 fifteenth century by a high-caste Hindoo, by name Nanak. So 
 rapidly did the new faith spread that, when Nanak died in 
 a.d. 1539, his disciples already numbered one hundred thousand; 
 a race bound together in a mystic commonwealth by the intensity 
 of religious fervour and warlike temperament. 
 
 The object of the founder was to break down all barriers of 
 caste, and to combine the best points in the faith of Hindoos 
 and Mohammedans, that both might accept a common creed. 
 Establishing himself as Guru or spiritual teacher, he founded a 
 theocratic government, and embodied his teaching in a sacred 
 book called the Adigranth , which to the present day lies open 
 before his successor, the great Guru, who receives actual worship 
 in the far-famed Golden Temple of Umritsur. Not only are 
 divine honours paid to the Guru, but also to the sacred Scriptures 
 —the Granth, as they are commonly called—and which are 
 deemed visible representatives of Hari, alias Vishnu. Notwith¬ 
 standing the prohibition of idol worship, this sacred book is 
 treated with exactly the same childish reverence as any other 
 Vishnuvite idol. It is daily dressed in oft-changed precious 
 coverings of costly brocade, and is laid open on a rich throne 
 beneath a jewelled canopy, while attendants wait around it waving 
 chowries. Each night it is carried in state to its sleeping quarters 
 in another temple on the brink of the sacred tank, where it is laid 
 by to rest in a golden shrine. 
 
 Umritsur, “the Fount of Immortality,” is so called because of 
 the exceeding holiness of the great tank, in the centre of which 
 
THE SIKHS. 
 
 501 
 
 stands this beautiful golden temple. Here the Guru, who is a 
 venerable old man, still holds sway, and receives the homage of 
 his martial devotees, and their offerings of flowers and jewels, 
 though his chief office seems to be the constant study of the 
 sacred volume. He is surrounded by a bodyguard of Akalis, 
 who represent the concentrated essence of the Sikh faith. They 
 call themselves the soldiers of God, and are distinguished by 
 their invariable blue dress, bracelets of steel, and conical turbans. 
 Round the waist they wear circles of sharp steel, which act, when 
 so required, as very dangerous weapons, being thrown at a foe 
 with unerring aim. These Akalis are a turbulent lot of fanatics, 
 and give no small trouble to the good old man, whom they 
 nominally reverence as their spiritual superior. 
 
 The sect was at first essentially peaceful in its tenets. This 
 state of things, however, could not be of long continuance, inas¬ 
 much as the hand of every man was against them — Hindoo and 
 Mussulman being alike furiously opposed to a sect which had 
 ventured to make its own selections from its neighbours’ creeds. 
 Thus the Sikhs were forced into a position of perpetual self- 
 defence, which in the very nature of things soon became aggres¬ 
 sive. Rut it was not till the accession of the great Guru Govind 
 that the strong spirit of ambition was infused into their ranks and 
 their military character developed. In addition to common tenets 
 of faith, he insisted on uniformity in external matters. Hair 
 and beard were to be unshaven; dress blue, and the use of arms 
 habitual. He gathered his recruits from every caste and every 
 tribe, admitting them to a perfect equality of rank ; and, assuming 
 for himself and them the title of Singh (lion), managed to infuse 
 a wondrous spirit of unanimity, which, strange to say, has so 
 manifested itself in outward life that from this multitude of mixed 
 races has sprung the finest people in India, with strongly marked 
 physical characteristics, tall, well-built, lithe and agile in action, 
 generally dark in colour, and unmistakably warriors. 
 
 Their first struggles to establish their power were a series cf 
 desperate and hopeless enterprises, but at length, crossing the 
 Sutlej, they forced their way to the very gates of Delhi. Repulsed 
 
502 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 by the son of Aurungzebe, they were driven back to their hills, 
 whence, returning to the charge in 1716, they were again defeated, 
 and the sect of Sikhs so mercilessly persecuted that for the next 
 thirty years no more was heard of them. 
 
 Nevertheless there were certain attractive points in their creed 
 which brought them many proselytes. For instance, one rule 
 prescribes the maintenance of the poor members by the richer; 
 and the latter find compensation in being allowed the free use of 
 wine and all strong spirits—a fact which came so prominently 
 forward at the time of our treaties with Lahore, that Sir John 
 Malcolm said, “ it was rare to see a Sikh soldier quite sober after 
 sunset,” and the most urgent political business had to wait day 
 after day in consequence of the state of helpless intoxication of 
 every individual concerned. 
 
 This does not seem to have lessened the warlike tendency of 
 this fiery and turbulent sect, which next came into notice under 
 the chieftainship of Runjeet Singh, who, having established his 
 own supremacy in the Upper Punjaub, and accepting the course 
 of the Sutlej as his boundary from British States, made treaties 
 with England under Lord Auckland, whereby his kingdom was 
 recognised as an independent State, on a footing of equality 
 with the older Powers of India. By this treaty England secured 
 a faithful ally and a secure boundary, up to 1839, when the Old 
 Lion of Lahore died. It is difficult to picture the mighty old 
 chief—the warrior whose influence kept all these aggressive spirits 
 in check—as “ a little, tottering, one-eyed old man,” which is the 
 description given of him at the time of his treaty with Lord 
 Auckland. 
 
 After his death a desperate conflict for his throne arose among 
 his near kinsfolk, who contrived by all the ordinary Oriental 
 methods to secure a marvellous rapidity of succession: methods 
 which history sums up as a bloody saturnalia; thirty-six members 
 of the royal family having disappeared in seven years! 
 
 This cheerful process continued till the chief survivor of 
 Runjeet Singh’s dynasty was a child, the Maharajah Duleep Singh, 
 son of a dancing-girl, who now assumed the title of Ranee, and 
 
THE KOOKAS. 
 
 503 
 
 the reins of government. The vast body of soldiery, however, 
 having by this time realised their own power, utterly set at nought 
 such feeble rulers, and, acknowledging no law but their own 
 reckless will, determined on the conquest of Hindoostan, and the 
 overthrow of the British sway. 
 
 Then followed those battles which are still matters of con¬ 
 temporary history; the result of which was, that to Goulab Singh, 
 who had continued faithful to Runjeet’s policy, was awarded the 
 fair vale of Cashmere, and those precious teak-forests whence 
 Britain now has to purchase timber at a tremendous cost—while 
 the Maharajah Duleep Singh has been relieved of the care of his 
 fiery subjects, and found a more secure and peaceful home 
 among the heathery braes of Scotland, till his practice of Eastern 
 falconry proved so grievous to the terrified grouse that he has 
 latterly been content with southern coverts. His British home 
 is happily beyond the reach of dangers from the fanatical rage 
 which his adoption of the Christian faith must certainly have 
 excited. 
 
 The Kookas, whose name has latterly become so familiar to us 
 as being a dangerous ingredient in the undercurrent of Indian 
 discontent, are a sect of ultra-fanatical Sikhs, founded about 
 thirty-five years ago, near Attock, by Baluk Ram, who became 
 their high priest. His object was to restore the Sikh religion to 
 its original purity; and also to organise a secret political body, 
 ready at any moment to do his bidding. This sect now numbers 
 fifty thousand men—a brotherhood bound together by the most 
 solemn oaths never to flinch from any work appointed them, and 
 ready to obey unhesitatingly the commands of their superiors. 
 
 This is a long digression from the old Sikh tomb at Dehra ; 
 bilt I confess that the fact of this sectarian meaning of the word 
 was to me altogether a new idea ; and the notion of a buried 
 Hindoo, and one moreover who had forsworn the joys of hubble- 
 bubble in exchange for the pleasures of strong drink, threw alto¬ 
 gether a new light on the manners and customs of the race. I 
 spent several days here, much interested in sketching, but never¬ 
 theless envying my sister and her husband, who had gone off to 
 
504 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Umritsur to have a look at the great Guru in his Golden Temple 
 •—travelling, however, at a pace too rapid for my taste. 
 
 Near the tomb, which is guarded by many devout men, there is 
 a large tank, where from morning till evening the people come to 
 bathe. As usual, men and women are all together. Nevertheless 
 they accomplish their bath with the modesty of perfect uncon¬ 
 sciousness. They bring all their vessels to scour, and their clothes 
 to wash. More especially they polish their teeth, with their 
 wooden tooth-brushes, till you would imagine there could be no 
 enamel left. Then they pray, and taking water in their hands 
 hold it up towards the sun ; then pour it out as an oblation. 
 After this, they fill their brass vessels with the same water, which, 
 although constantly running, is by this time moderately dirty, and 
 go their way. 
 
 During the summer months Dehra is the spot where the Vice¬ 
 roy’s bodyguard make their home. There is also 1 a Ghoorka 
 regiment always stationed here. These little Ghoorkas are about 
 the finest native battalion in the British service, not by reason of 
 their size, for it is the old story of “ great goods in little bundles,” 
 but as possessing all manner of soldierly virtues; wonderful 
 honesty, power of endurance, and a talent for making the best of 
 things, that would do credit to Mark Tapley himself. 
 
 In addition to the accoutrements supplied by Government, each 
 Ghoorka must provide himself with the weapon peculiar to his 
 race, namely the kookeree, which is a very broad, sharp, and 
 curiously curved knife, capable in skilful hands of doing wonderful 
 execution. There is an annual festival when the Ghoorka gods 
 must be propitiated by the sacrificing of divers animals, even (to 
 the horror of the Hindoos) of an ox. To make the offering truly 
 acceptable, the creature must not only be slain with one blow, but 
 its body should be cleft right in two—no easy feat, especially with 
 so short a weapon. To attain proficiency, therefore, Ghoorka lads 
 try “ their prentice hands ” on a multitude of kids, who, on the 
 whole, must have a bad time of it. 
 
 The kookeree, however, comes in useful in a thousand other 
 ways, and two small knives which nestle in its sheath are handy 
 
THE AVENUE OF BAMBOOS. 505 
 
 for dinner purposes, therein answering to the little knife appended 
 to a Highlander’s dirk. 
 
 One of the points of interest near Dehra is a certain dripping 
 rock overhanging a sheltered pool, hidden among richly wooded 
 hills. The water, filtering through the rock in a continuous 
 shower, has formed an incrustation of glittering stalactites, and 
 this dripping cave in the deep wooded dell is altogether a very 
 pretty and fairy-like retreat. Of course it is a favourite rendez¬ 
 vous for the Dehra world. 
 
 But the chief attraction after all is the extreme fertility of 
 this rich valley. The luxuriance of all manner of crops, the 
 large Government tea-gardens, or rather tea-plantations, the 
 wealth of flowers, more especially of one beautiful plant, the Rosa 
 hibiscus-mutabilis, which in the early morning is loaded with 
 pure white blossoms, like large scentless roses, and when you look 
 again at noon, your roses have changed from white to deepest 
 crimson. These grew in beautiful clusters round the little church 
 in the middle of the village. 
 
 Lovelier than all else were the rich masses of tall bamboo, 
 which line the central street, and stretch away in a beautiful 
 avenue, fully a mile in length, the great plumes intertwining 
 their feathery arms in one long continuous arch, far overhead. 
 It was especially charming to ride along this pleasant shady 
 grove on the gentlest of elephants, which the kindness of a 
 friend had placed at my disposal — a nice, easy way of seeing the 
 country from an advantageous height. So we could overlook 
 fields and streams, and count the great bamboo clumps dotted 
 all over the valley. 
 
 It would be impossible to imagine foliage more graceful than 
 these great isolated clumps of bamboo, which, after all, are only 
 magnificent colossal grasses. They grow in clusters like gigantic 
 plumes of ostrich feathers. Each reed may average four or five 
 inches in diameter at the base, and rise to a height of forty 
 or fifty feet, with joints two or three feet apart, fringed with 
 long, slender leaves. The tapering canes bow their elegant, 
 feathery heads in graceful curves and bend at every breath 
 
506 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of wind, while the vividly green leaves quiver tremulously and 
 incessantly. 
 
 Sometimes these beautiful reeds have been taught to whisper 
 low, musical responses to the wooing of the breeze. The Malays 
 call them the cane of melody, and at their bidding the mysterious 
 forest voices blend in wild cadences like some strange iEolian 
 harp. These people have a custom of boring holes in each joint 
 of these hollow pipes, the holes being of divers dimensions, larger 
 or smaller according to the girth of the bamboo, so that as the 
 ■wind sighs through them it produces various notes, more or less 
 rich and full in tone—sometimes soft and flute-like—sometimes 
 melodious as the full swell of an organ—sometimes whistling shrill 
 and piercing as the cry of some tortured spirit. So the winds and 
 the grasses have their own rare music in the deep shade of these 
 tropical forests. 
 
 In beautiful contrast with this feathery foliage rise the broad 
 shining leaves of the giant plantain, each leaf eight or ten feet 
 long, crowning a low stem, whence hang simultaneously the 
 great crimson blossoms and the clusters of ripe creamy fruit, 
 one such cluster affording a satisfying meal for several persons. 
 It is a noble plant, and the young fresh leaf when first expanded 
 is the loveliest, greenest, and smoothest thing you can imagine, 
 though too soon cracked and split into a thousand shreds by the 
 combined action of sun and wind. 
 
 If you care to build up an imaginary bamboo from a small 
 British weed, you may get a faint idea of its pattern from the 
 common Equisetum, which abounds in most of our woods. But of 
 the loveliness of the reality nothing save sight can convey a notion. 
 To the Hindoo of the plains it is as precious as is the cocoa-nut 
 to his brethren on the sea-coast. The young sprouts, which must 
 be diligently pruned so as to strengthen the main shoots, are 
 either eaten as a vegetable, like asparagus, or else boiled with 
 sugar and made into sweetmeats, or with vinegar to make 
 pickles. Sometimes they are cut up small and mixed with 
 honey; a bit of hollow bamboo is filled with this mixture, and 
 is then coated with clay, and roasted over a wood fire till the 
 
USES OF BAMBOO. 
 
 507 
 
 clay splits, and a very excellent sort of sweetmeat is ready for 
 food. In China the young shoots of the bamboo are a common 
 article of consumption. 
 
 The bamboo supplies physic too. A decoction of its leaves is 
 considered a very good cough-mixture. Its outer rind acts as a 
 febrifuge. The root is an ingredient of a valuable salve, while 
 a cooling drink is made from the young buds. It sounds like 
 seething the kid in its mother’s milk, but you may, if you choose, 
 boil these buds in water procured from the large hollow stems, 
 many of which contain a considerable amount of fluid, which is 
 considered a most wholesome and pleasant beverage. This juice 
 as well as the outer rind contains a large quantity of silica, which 
 is obtained by burning the wood, and is believed to have 
 wonderful powers of healing. 
 
 The bamboo is, however, too precious to be often burnt. 
 Every conceivable thing is manufactured from it, from the light 
 fishing-rod to the mast of the vessel, indeed the vessel itself, hull, 
 sails, and ropes, are made from bamboo in some form. Houses 
 are built of it, rafters and floors and door-posts. When split, it 
 forms the sharp spears used by watchmen or hunters, and when 
 very finely divided it forms admirable wickerwork of all sorts ; 
 matting and baskets, blinds, bows and bow-strings, arrow-shafts, 
 reed-pens, and poles, flutes and fifes, water-wheels and buckets, 
 water-pipes of any required length (miles perhaps, made by placing 
 them end to end), are a very small proportion of the countless 
 uses of this precious grass. Its joints act as oil-jars, wherein the 
 peasant keeps his store. As an instrument of punishment its use 
 is commonly well known, “bamboo-backsheesh” being among 
 the endearing words of promise most frequently addressed by the 
 Briton to his followers, for their special encouragement. The 
 Chinese find still more varied treasures in the bamboo-mine, not 
 the least of which is a soft white paper, with which they cover the 
 bamboo skeletons of their umbrellas. 
 
 When I was about to leave Dehra, my landlord most wisely 
 suggested that surely it was foolish to have come within thirty 
 miles of Hardwar, the holiest of all Hindoo cities, and one which 
 
508 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 even bears away the palm of sanctity from Benares, and yet not 
 to see it. Therein I fully agreed, but could not see any satis¬ 
 factory way to accomplish it, as Hardwar is a purely native city, 
 without one resident Englishman, and not possessing even a 
 Dak Bungalow where a tentless traveller could lodge. That 
 difficulty, however, was soon dispelled, as my host most kindly 
 allowed his pretty daughter to accompany me, and a very pleasant 
 companion she proved, as well as a most useful one; for being 
 thoroughly mistress of the language she was able to make all 
 arrangements in the most satisfactory manner. 
 
 A gentleman in the Forest Department did much to make our 
 way smooth, having most courteously placed at our disposal the 
 largest, gentlest elephant in his stud, and allowed us the use of 
 the Forest Bungalow, a roughly furnished house built for the 
 accommodation of the foresters when on their tours of inspection. 
 He further sent an intimation to the principal moonshee and big 
 men of the town, announcing our approach, and laying on them 
 strictest commands to see that no evil befell us. 
 
 So one beautiful morning we started before sunrise in doolies 
 (a sort of canvas box-bed), each carried by six men, who walked 
 calmly along for the whole thirty miles, with only one rest of 
 half an hour for their poor, frugal dinner. I never saw such 
 walkers. On our elephant rode the khitmatgar, who was to 
 cook for us, together with all his degchis (alias cooking-pots) and 
 other stores. 
 
 Our road lay along the rich wide valley, bounded on the left 
 by the Himalayas bathed in lilac light, and on the right by the 
 low, pine-clad Siwalik range. Soon, however, we were in the 
 uncleared jungle, which was not very striking. Here and there 
 was a good tree, but the general effect was of very tangled 
 underwood. There were pretty bits, however, where delicate 
 parasitical plants of tenderest green bind their large-leaved 
 neighbours to the slender palms, and swing from branch to 
 branch in light feathery festoons. And a closer look reveals 
 an endless variety of greenery, all interwoven with bright 
 blossoms, and sometimes a quick flash of wings gleams in the 
 
HARDWAR ON THE GANGES. 
 

BEAUTIFUL GRASSES. 
 
 509 
 
 sunlight. One lovely plant, growing in rich profusion, seemed 
 like a wild asparagus; but each little feathery tuft of the tall 
 plume was covered with tiny white blossoms, set at regular 
 intervals, and each tuft was guarded by one sharp thorn. 
 
 But the beauty of the grasses was beyond telling, and their 
 endless variety was a source of unbounded pleasure. Scarcely 
 one common English pattern of grass was missing, but all on 
 a Brobdingnagian scale. Jumping grass, and trembling, bowing 
 grass; spiky grass, and tufted grass ; waving grass like wild oats ; 
 silky, feathery grass. Go into our English woods and autumn 
 fields, and count, if you can, the almost innumerable variety of 
 these little delicate plants. Then imagine every one of these 
 reproduced eight or ten feet high, some far higher, and add to 
 them very many species unknown to Britain, and then you will 
 have some notion of the Indian jungle grasses! 
 
 There are white, silky spikes like pampas grass, and tall, tossing 
 plumes like ostrich feathers. Great, black, drooping plumes also, 
 like the English marsh-weed exaggerated; and tall, pink, sirkee 
 grass, whose great rosy plumes waved far above our heads as we 
 sat on the tall elephant. The latter is, I think, the commonest 
 of all. Imagine all of these growing together in densest luxuri¬ 
 ance, and you will see that Indian grasses are not a feature to 
 be overlooked. 
 
 As we drew near Hardwar, or Haridwar, that is, the gate of 
 Hari, the Sun-god, alias Krishna, alias Vishnu, we made the cook 
 dismount, and distribute his cooking-pots among the coolies, 
 while we took possession of the elephant, so as to command a 
 better view on entering the city. Here, indeed, the country is 
 lovely. The two mountain chains almost'meet, and in the inter¬ 
 vening valley flows the broad, clear, beautiful Ganges, as yet 
 unsullied by the filth of her worshippers, for though she has 
 already travelled nearly 150 miles since she left her snowy cradle, 
 her journey has lain through difficult mountain gorges, where only 
 the very devout and physically strong can seek to do her homage. 
 The water is clear as crystal, of the most exquisite aquamarine 
 colour, and delicious to drink. No wonder that the people see 
 
5 io 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 in her the purest of goddesses, and adore Ganga, the daughter of 
 Himarat (the Himalayas), above all their other gods. 
 
 We did congratulate ourselves on having found her in this 
 calm, heavenly temper ; had we been three months earlier we 
 might have learned to hate her as cordially as we did the yellow 
 Sutlej. For the colour of these rivers varies not only with 
 the soil where they have their source, but also with the season 
 of the year. All those which flow from the snows and glaciers 
 are turbid in summer, and are generally clear and bluish in 
 autumn and winter, whereas those rising in lower ranges are 
 generally clear at all seasons. Thus the Ganges at midsummer 
 is a rushing, mighty, muddy cataract, of twenty times the volume 
 it has in winter, and fully a mile in width. Then, instead of the 
 green, glassy pools and quiet reaches that so enchanted us in 
 autumn, we should have found a boisterous river swollen with 
 melted snows, and mud and rain, tearing and foaming along in 
 rapid overwhelming current. 
 
 I am told that the sister stream, the blue Jumna, is invariably 
 clear, inasmuch as she does not rise in the snow. I confess I do 
 not understand the statement, as her birthplace, Jumnoutri, is a 
 snow-peak as glittering as that Gangoutri whence flows the mighty 
 Ganges. The Jumna, however, although thus cradled amid the 
 eternal snows, is said to be greatly affected by the vicinity of hot 
 springs. 
 
 These glacial streams contain no animal life, at all events no 
 fish, till they have received the waters of warmer tributaries. 
 Here, as in all rivers of the plains, one striking feature is the wide 
 extent of shingly, sandy soil, showing how broad a space the 
 waters sometimes cover, and also how the bed of the river varies 
 from year to year. In fact, in passing through soft yielding sand, 
 it makes no definite channel, so that the main stream of one year 
 may flow a mile away from that of the previous year. Having 
 once taken a new line of its own, it must perforce go on, rushing 
 onward with an impetus that sweeps all before it. 
 
 Such inundations too often destroy whole villages, carrying 
 with them all the little household treasures; to say nothing of 
 
RIVERS IN FLOOD. 
 
 511 
 
 grain, goats, sheep, and all little farm stocking, the people barely 
 escaping with their lives ; a heartrending scene too often repeated, 
 and one which gives tremendous meaning to that Hindoo proverb 
 which, in allusion to matrimonial quarrels, describes a wife who 
 goes away in anger “ like a river in the rains.” In the plains, 
 where the low, flat shores afford no strong boundary line to resist 
 the fury of the advancing flood, it sometimes extends for many 
 miles on either side of the usual bed of the rivers, so that vast 
 tracts of land are wholly submerged, and continue so for many 
 days. As far as the eye can reach, the country appears like one 
 gigantic lake, dotted with tree-tops, and with the roofs of the 
 houses whereon the wretched starving inmates cower, beholding 
 the destruction of all their property in those seething waters, and 
 waiting in hopeless patience for the day, perhaps far distant, when 
 they should once more subside; or when some friendly boat shall 
 come to their rescue, possibly too late to be of any avail. 
 
 As an example of such an inundation, I may instance that of 
 1866, as described by Dr. Hunter, when in a single district of 
 Orissa, 275 square miles were submerged, for from five to forty- 
 five days, the depth of the water averaging seven feet, but in some 
 villages being fully ten. 
 
 “The rivers came down like furious bulls, bursting their 
 banks in every direction. More than 412,000 people were 
 suddenly driven out of house and home, and found themselves 
 in the middle of a boiling ocean. Thousands of miserable 
 families floated about in canoes, on bamboo rafts, on trunks 
 of trees, or on rice sacks, which threatened every moment 
 to dissolve into fragments beneath them. Every banyan tree 
 had its rookery of human beings, while the Brahmans, from the 
 roofs of their brick temples, looked down in safety as the flood 
 roared past. 
 
 “ The common danger disarmed all creatures of their natural 
 antipathies. Snakes glided up to the roofs, and burrowed harm¬ 
 lessly in the thatch. Sheep and goats were carried away by herds 
 in the torrent, and in a few days their carcasses came to the surface, 
 and floated about, covered with crows and kites. But the most 
 
512 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 pitiable sight of all was the plough cattle, standing in shallow parts 
 up to their necks, and hungrily snuffing the barren waters for food, 
 until they sank exhausted into the slime. Ere the flood subsided, 
 many a famished family had also sunk beneath the waters.” 
 
 Of course such an inundation as is here referred to is happily an 
 extreme case, but even the ordinary rains cause most troublesome 
 deviations in the courses of rivers, as what is arable land one year, 
 may be selected by the river as its channel the following year— 
 a channel which may shortly be once more forsaken, and left as a 
 worthless sandbank or marsh. In like manner, the field that in 
 spring was the centre of a compact farm, may, ere the autumn, 
 have become an island, difficult of access. 
 
 One of the most remarkable instances of erratic conduct on 
 the part of a river was in the case of the Brahmapootra, which 
 within the first thirty years of the present century actually 
 changed its course two hundred miles to westward, thus com¬ 
 pletely revolutionising the condition of two great tracts of country, 
 the ancient cities which it forsook being thereby ruined, while the 
 poorest villages that chanced to lie on the brink of its new channel 
 became rich and prosperous, not only on account of the great road¬ 
 way for trade thus brought past their very doors, but also because of 
 the facilities for irrigation, and the rich soil annually brought down 
 by the overflowing waters. This mighty stream, which now unites 
 with the eastern mouth of the Ganges, and helps to form the great 
 delta, formerly flowed to the east of Dacca, and found its way to 
 the sea in a wholly different direction. 
 
 This tendency to a wayward course is more or less betrayed by 
 all Indian streams, and is the reason why our first vision of the 
 Ganges, above Hardwar, was of wide reaches of sand, apparently 
 extending right across the valley—sand, however, which was half 
 covered by the tall sirkee grass, whose great pink feathers waved 
 and quivered in the light of the setting sun. And through the 
 faint hot haze gleamed the soft delicate outline of the hills, which 
 an eastern poet has compared to some celestial spirit assuming 
 visible form and crowned with sun and snow. 
 
 We rode on through the holy city, thereby acquiring unutterable 
 
HARD WAR—THE MOST HOLY CITY. 
 
 513 
 
 sanctity, and becoming objects of envy to many a poor Hindoo 
 in far-away districts. The town is very small, and by no means 
 imposing, although every house we passed was more or less or¬ 
 namental ; indeed many are richly carved and painted; each 
 window has its own small overhanging balcony, and some of the 
 domestic architecture is very fine. Most of the buildings are of 
 brick, but many are of a fine white freestone, and rise from the 
 very brink of the sacred stream wherein they lie mirrored. 
 
 But in the middle of the main street comes the usual, odd, 
 Eastern blending of the tawdry and the magnificent, for the most 
 rubbishy little booths, with brown thatch, fill up each side of the 
 road, being built up against these fine, tall houses. Of course the 
 effect is most picturesque, and the intense depth of colouring, and 
 rich brown shadows thus obtained are very pleasant to the artistic 
 eye. Of course there are monkeys innumerable all over the 
 place, careering over the roofs, running along balconies, suddenly 
 dropping into the street to help themselves to some coveted 
 dainty—with their babies in their arms or sitting on their backs, 
 with their little arms round the parental necks. And in every 
 direction squat groups of human babies far more naked than the 
 monkeys ! 
 
 The crowds who throng the street are purely Hindoo, all pur¬ 
 suing their ordinary avocations. Groups of women, draped in 
 bright colours, are preparing cakes of the “ sacred ” fuel of the 
 country (cow-dung) and plastering them all over the fine houses, 
 as high as they can reach, to bake in the sun. Multitudes are 
 provided with great baskets of flowers, lovely garlands of roses 
 and marigolds, as offerings to the idols, but especially to the 
 river, on which they float so gracefully. The lip of the water is 
 generally actually lined with blossoms. 
 
 Many Brahmans are engaged all day long in sealing up very 
 peculiar tall long-necked bottles of the thinnest green glass, filled 
 with Ganges water, which all pilgrims must purchase from the 
 priests only, therewith to anoint their domestic idols or to shrive 
 their dying kinsfolk perhaps at the other end of the Empire. The 
 peculiarity of the bottles, and the seal of the Brahman priest, are 
 
5'4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 safeguards against fraud in the substitution of unhallowed 
 water. 
 
 Even this sealing process is curious, for, instead of a little 
 commonplace fire, the men we noticed had each kindled one end 
 of a whole tree, and were allowing it gradually to smoulder. 
 This, remember, was all in the open street, and the blue smoke 
 from the fires curled upwards in a light film, blending with the 
 warm brown tones of thatch and shadow. Each bottle is pro¬ 
 tected by a wicker case, for doubtless it has far to travel. A vast 
 number of ecclesiastical traders devote their lives to the sale of 
 this holy water, not only for the service of the idols, and for 
 medicinal purposes, but also for use in British courts of justice 
 (where it takes the place of the Bible in the administration of 
 oaths.) So large covered baskets are filled with these thin bottles, 
 of all sizes to suit all purses, from tiny bottles two inches long, to 
 large ones containing about a quart. (We may be sure that the 
 tiniest bottle is costly, by the time it has been carried a thousand 
 miles !) 
 
 The water carriers travel in companies, each carrying two of these 
 baskets slung from the ends of a bamboo which rests on his shoulder. 
 The baskets are decorated with peacock s feathers and little red 
 flags, and in each company there is apparently a leader, whose 
 basket is more ornamental than the others, having a large arched 
 cover with numerous little jingling bells, which tinkle as they travel. 
 
 This traffic in holy water seems to be the chief trade of the 
 town. The only secular business of which I saw any sign was 
 cotton-picking. Everything else was more or less in the sacred 
 line. Many stalls were exclusively for the sale of brass idols of 
 every sort and kind, chiefly neat little pocket idols. There were 
 thousands of brass bells, such as are rung in the temples; in¬ 
 cense burners, flower vases, absurd brass toys, mirrors, lotas, glass 
 bottles of every size for holy water, while many men are wholly 
 occupied in making basket-work cases for these. I think all the 
 other booths were devoted to the sale of sweetmeats and beads 
 —beads of every sort and kind and colour, ridiculously cheap, 
 made of Ganges mud painted and gilded. 
 
A LOVELY CITY. 
 
 515 
 
 The temples lie all along the edge of the river. There are 
 none of very striking architecture, but the general effect is never¬ 
 theless picturesque in the extreme. The domes are chiefly 
 pyramidal, very tall in proportion to their height, almost like 
 thick spires, and much carved. Some are short and low, and in- 
 crusted with a pattern like huge roses in stone. They are mostly 
 overshadowed with sacred peepul trees—the abode of innumerable 
 monkeys, who have the run of the temples and of the town; and 
 who sit perched on roofs or balconies, inspecting the various 
 goods offered in the market below, and, suddenly pouncing down, 
 help themselves to whatever they fancy, none venturing to thwart 
 the sacred animals. 
 
 Passing through the town, our road lay for about a mile beside 
 the river, sometimes overshadowed by fine old banyan-trees and 
 small temples. We found the pleasant little Forest Bungalow all 
 ready for us, a secluded nest, in a compound surrounded with a 
 hedge of tall aloes in blossom, far above which waved pink sirkee 
 grass, which in fact was actually higher than the house. Beyond 
 were fine trees and clumps of tall bamboo. Two bed rooms and 
 a large sitting-room, with sufficient furniture for all requirements, 
 seemed to us luxury, and being very dusty, very hungry, and very 
 tired, supper, baths, and bed, happily crowned a day of much 
 enjoyment. 
 
 L l 2 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN THE HOLY CITY OF HARDWAR. 
 
 A Brave Christian— 1 The Telegraph—The Great Canal—The Great Fair—A 
 Terrible Catastrophe—Scorpion and Snake Bites—In the Temples— 
 Familiarity with Idolatry—Sacred Pebbles—The Five Daily Services— 
 Sacred Bulls in Marble or Metal—Animals associated with divers Gods 
 —A Priest’s Home—A Living Image—A Lovely Island—The Ganges 
 from its Source to the Ocean—Shrine at Gangoutri—The Town of 
 Kanthal—Night March through the Forest—Adventures—Nynee Tal— 
 Almorah—Darjeeling. 
 
 Very near the house in which we were so comfortably lodged, 
 stands another, inhabited by the only Christian resident in the dis¬ 
 trict, a clerk in the telegraph office. I believe he is an American, 
 quiet and shy in speaking to such a rai-a avis as ourselves, but 
 brave and plucky enough in other matters. Fancy this only 
 Christian in that hotbed of heathenism, going bravely out to the 
 temples at the hours of sacrifice, to preach, which, I was told, he 
 does most eloquently. If you can imagine a solitary Hindoo ex¬ 
 plaining his views of religion at some great revival meeting in 
 Ireland or Scotland, you may perhaps realise the situation. The 
 people listen to his words as to a curious and pleasant story, 
 but he told me that he had not the smallest reason to hope he 
 had ever made one convert. Nevertheless if pleading for the 
 Master’s cause, when that catise is unpopular , be the truest test 
 of discipleship, it may be that from this far-away village there 
 shall some day be gathered one of earth’s least, who shall be 
 chief in the Master’s kingdom. 
 
TIIE TELEGRAPH AT WORK ! 
 
 517 
 
 How strange it did seem to find a telegraph working in this 
 out-of-the-way place, and to know that, if need were, I could have 
 flashed a message home by lightning! Nor is this the only 
 wonderful proof of England’s skill that has astonished the people 
 of Hardwar. Within a stone’s throw of our bungalow was the 
 head of the great Ganges Canal, the work which above all others, 
 not even excepting the railway, has most amazed the natives, and 
 which will, through long ages, prove the most priceless boon to 
 this thirsty land. 
 
 Of all India’s difficult questions, that of irrigation has always 
 proved one of the most fertile sources of trouble in a land subject 
 to sudden and prolonged droughts, such as must inevitably destroy 
 the growing crops, especially the rice-fields on which so many 
 myriads are wholly dependent. This too in a country where vast 
 districts have even now no good roads whereby to bring food from 
 afar. Of course a frightful famine follows, such as that of which 
 we have in several recent years received such appalling statistics; 
 human beings dying in numbers almost incredible, while bullocks, 
 cows, sheep, and goats have all shared the same horrible fate. 
 And looking back a few years farther, we find that in 1833 
 a million and a half of human beings perished in the awful 
 famine. 
 
 To avert such horrors as these, the Mogul emperors devoted 
 their chief energies. Thus we hear of Feroze having made one 
 great canal from the Chetang river to Hansi and Hissar, and he 
 bordered his canal with trees which should give to all travellers 
 shade, blossom, and fruit. Moreover, he made thirty great 
 reservoirs, and fifty dams across the river, for purposes of irriga¬ 
 tion. He also constructed roads that should open up the country, 
 with one hundred and fifty bridges, and one hundred caravanserais 
 for travellers. When Shah Jehan succeeded to the throne, he 
 made a branch canal from that of Feroze which was carried by 
 an aqueduct of masonry right through Delhi, whence watercourses 
 diverged to supply all quarters of the town, the tanks and gardens. 
 Akbar’s chief part in this matter seems to have been repairing the 
 works of his predecessors. 
 
5i3 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Two hundred years later these were choked up during intestine 
 wars till they were once more restored at enormous cost by the 
 East India Company, to the exceeding joy of the people, who went 
 forth as to a great religious festival to meet the returning waters, 
 and cast in their offerings of flowers. 
 
 For England was reserved the honour of devising this mighty 
 Ganges Canal, and for Sir Proby Cautley the merit of designing 
 it. Its first suggestion was met with utter amazement on the 
 part of the Hindoos. To those who dwelt in distant regions, the 
 possibility that these sacred, life-giving waters might perhaps be 
 brought to their very doors was so astounding that they could 
 hardly believe in it, more especially as the Brahmans denounced 
 the undertaking as altogether impious, and declared that the 
 great goddess Gunga would swiftly avenge herself on the rash 
 mortals who dared attempt to divide the sacred stream, and 
 assign to her any course save that in which it should please her 
 to flow. 
 
 Great, then, was the interest with which they marked the 
 vicissitudes of the work, and of course the difficulties of such an 
 undertaking were manifold. In many places the canal is con¬ 
 stantly endangered by the overwhelming torrents which, only 
 during the rains, rush down from the mountains, varying their 
 course from year to year at their own sweet will. Sometimes 
 foundations had to be laid on the shifting sands across these vague 
 river beds. Across one of these—the River Solani — the canal has 
 been carried by a great aqueduct, ending in a raised embankment 
 three miles long, thus reaching the town of Roorkee. Beyond 
 Roorkee two long tunnels of strong masonry carry the canal below 
 the bed of similar torrents. 
 
 But in some places the levels will not admit of either of these 
 methods, and then comes the sorest test of engineering skill, 
 when, by the help of mighty weirs and sluices, the flood is carried 
 right across the bed of the canal, whose own waters are held back 
 by great floodgates. Those who have witnessed this bridling 
 of the mad, foaming waters, thus mightily forced back by the 
 work of puny human atoms, speak of it as a scene of breathless 
 
THE GREAT GANGES CANAL. 
 
 519 
 
 excitement utterly indescribable. The raging torrent comes tear¬ 
 ing down from the mountains in headlong career, sweeping 
 onward with irresistible might, and bringing with it huge tree- 
 trunks, rocks, and every conceivable variety of heavy plunder, accu¬ 
 mulated on its way. These act as battering-rams to beat down 
 whatever might dare to oppose its course, and as the boiling 
 flood dashes over the canal works their very existence is often 
 endangered. 
 
 These are a few of the difficulties with which the engineers cf 
 this wonderful canal have had to contend. 
 
 Imagine, then, what a moment of excitement that must have 
 been when, in 1854, the mighty work was complete, and the canal 
 opened ; an excitement extending over the length and breadth of 
 the land, as the great body of water, four times the volume of the 
 Thames at Windsor, flowed quietly away from the mighty river 
 into its new channel, exchanging its free wanderings over vague 
 sands for an imprisonment in a bed of hewn stone ! Then pass¬ 
 ing gently onward, on a course of four hundred miles, it supplies 
 means of irrigation to about six hundred thousand acres, besides 
 bringing joy and gladness to myriads of Hindoos, who went out 
 to meet the advancing waters with wildest enthusiasm, casting 
 thereon garlands without number, therein recognising the pre¬ 
 sence of their favourite goddess, and knowing, moreover, that 
 henceforth they would be spared the trouble of long and weary 
 pilgrimages to her shores. The canal that has done so much good 
 work on its way, rejoins the mother stream at Cawnpore, its last 
 action being to supply abundant streams of life to the Memorial 
 Gardens, thus transforming a sea of driest dust into a peerless 
 rose-garden with greenest turf. 
 
 The canal is entirely in the hands of Government, the farmers 
 paying a given sum per acre, varying with the nature of their crop. 
 Of course such grains as Indian corn, and others requiring a 
 dry soil, pay very much less than sugar-cane or rice, more espe¬ 
 cially the latter. In fact, the “paddy fields,” as they are called, 
 require for several weeks to be kept entirely flooded. The land 
 thus fertilised yields quick returns. The crops of barley, wheat, 
 
520 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and divers other grains sown in October are reaped in April, while 
 the rice and other crops sown in early summer are reaped in the 
 end of autumn. 
 
 Thus, then, the blessed waters carry life to all this district. 
 Wherever their influence extends there are splendid crops and 
 healthy flocks. Where it ceases there is drought and starvation ; 
 dry beds of sand instead of green fields, cattle dying for lack of 
 forage, poverty and misery on every hand—in many places a 
 difficulty in obtaining even the scantiest supply of foul water. 
 Well may the Hindoos acknowledge the priceless blessing of this 
 pure stream. 
 
 Close to the head of the canal is a very fine bathing ghaut, long 
 flights of wide stone stairs, recently built by the British Govern¬ 
 ment to endeavour in some measure to lessen the awful crush of 
 pilgrims who here assemble at the great annual fair. For Hard- 
 war, being the city nearest to the source of the Ganges, is accounted 
 well-nigh as holy as Gangoutri itself, where the river rises at the 
 base of a mighty glacier. 
 
 Every year, therefore, pilgrims assemble from every corner of 
 the Empire, and devote a fortnight at high pressure to religious 
 duties. The fair must be held at the end of March or beginning 
 of April, when Jupiter is in Aquarius, at the time of the sun 
 entering Aries ; and eager crowds await the announcement by 
 the Hindoo astrologers as to which day and hour is shown by the 
 stars to be specially auspicious. Then comes the awful struggle 
 for precedence in reaching the blessed waters. The city, as I 
 before observed, is especially sacred to the Sun-god Hari, alias 
 Krishna, and is dear to the Hindoos as being the Gate of the Sun 
 “ Hari-dwar.” 1 
 
 For days before the great fair of Hardwar the people arrive, 
 
 1 Many of their old legends tell of the great deeds of the ITaricules, the 
 lords of the race of Hari the Sun, and it has been suggested that some of these 
 may have travelled to Egypt, and from thence have been adopted by the old 
 Greeks, who thus originated the fables of their Sun-god Hercules. You 
 remember that the ancient Egyptians worshipped the Sphinx as Harimukli— 
 that is, the Sun on the horizon. 
 
THE GREAT FAIR. 
 
 521 
 
 streams pouring in incessantly, and encamping on every available 
 spot, but chiefly on the broad dry bed of the river, which at that 
 season is very low. They bring their whole families, for all alike 
 need to wash away their sins in that pure stream, and the vilest 
 wickedness will assuredly be cleansed by one plunge in those cool, 
 clear waters, provided only that the golden atonement be not 
 lacking. Coins must be freely showered into the sacred river at 
 the time of prayer; and the priests (who have already received 
 their offering before allowing the pilgrim to enter the cleansing 
 flood) are privileged to search the sands for any coins which the 
 goddess may not think worth taking for herself. 
 
 Here, then, multitudes from north, south, east, and west, come 
 once a year to worship—Cashmerians, Persians, Paharis, Hindoos, 
 of every possible sect. To these are added merchants from 
 Calcutta, Sikhs from Umritsur, horse-dealers from Bokhara, 
 Tartars, Afghans, Cabulees, and Mohammedans of many nations, 
 drawn thither simply by the great fair, as to a profitable market. 
 In the first place, it is the chief horse fair of the year, and every 
 conceivable variety of the animal is here to be found, from the 
 sturdy ponies of Cabul and Cashmere, to the fleet Arab or 
 heavy “Whaler,” as the steed of New South Wales is commonly 
 called. 
 
 Nor is the fair for horses only. Elephants, camels, buffaloes, 
 mules, cows, sheep, monkeys, dogs, cats, bears, and occasionally 
 hunting cheetahs and leopards, are among the zoological varieties 
 here offered for sale. Every man brings whatever he has got to 
 dispose of. There are merchants selling all manner of dried 
 fruits; Cabul grapes in those well-known round boxes, where the 
 grapes are laid separately in layers, packed in cotton-wool to 
 exclude the air; sweetmeats, nuts, all manner of Indian and 
 Cashmere shawls, woollen goods, jewels for rich and poor, precious 
 stones unset, silvery hubble-bubble vases, together with all manner 
 of European goods. You may even sometimes detect a case of 
 French rouge lying beside the henna prepared for the fingers of 
 Eastern damsels. 
 
 The holiest spot in all Hardwar is a certain ghaut, in the heart 
 
522 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of the little town, just below a favourite temple. Here every one 
 rushes to bathe on the great day of the festival, and often half a 
 million of people contrive to plunge in at this consecrated spot 
 within a few hours. Men, women, and children, as usual, all 
 bathe quite indiscriminately. They plunge joyously in, as if 
 thoroughly enjoying themselves in the clear rippling stream, and 
 the women washing their long raven hair, and all coming out 
 again, as fresh as . . . well, I cannot say as fresh as daisies ! 
 more like glossy horse-chestnuts ! The richer pilgrims are led 
 into the water, supported on either side by a venerable Brahman, 
 who carefully takes them to the mid-stream, plunges them in thrice, 
 silently and solemnly, then escorts them to land once more; a 
 very grave proceeding, much in the style of the solemn three dips 
 and out again, of the genuine health-seeker at the seaside. 
 
 The average attendance at the annual gathering is somewhere 
 about two hundred thousand human beings. Every twelfth year, 
 however, it increases to something very considerably over a million. 
 For on the twelfth year it is supposed that Krishna himself revisits 
 the earth, and is invisibly present at the great fair. Therefore the 
 sanctity of Hardwar at that time is beyond telling. It is literally 
 the gate of heaven, and such a concentrated essence of holiness is 
 shed abroad as to insure the salvation of all who are present. 
 Death under such circumstances merely means a sudden transla¬ 
 tion to a world of bliss, and it is even supposed that any Christians 
 present would have some chance of being included ! 
 
 In bygone years some very awful accidents have occurred at 
 this time, when these observers of times and seasons, and days 
 and hours, all struggled to reach the holiest ghaut at the very 
 moment declared by the astrologers to be the most propitious. 
 The most appalling scene of all was enacted at the great fair in 
 1820, when the concourse of people was unusually great. The 
 crowd poured in from both sides along a broad street, from 
 which a narrow street, diverging down a steep flight of steps, 
 leads to the sacred bathing-place. As the hour drew nigh, the 
 multitude pressed on more and more eagerly. New comers, not 
 knowing the nature of the ground, and the steepness of that 
 
AN AWFUL SACRIFICE. 
 
 5 2 3 
 
 narrow street, still pressed more and more earnestly, struggling 
 to force the others onwards, themselves crushed by those behind. 
 Thus the living torrent was borne along with irresistible impetus, 
 the crush becoming more and more awful as the immense mass 
 of living beings became so tightly wedged as to be perfectly 
 immovable. 
 
 Every moment the pressure became more terrific, and every 
 attempt at extrication more utterly hopeless. At first the appalling 
 shrieks of agony of the crushed and dying were merged in the 
 general roar and hubbub of Hindoo voices, at all times tumultuous, 
 and the eager worshippers in the rear still pressed on, so that it 
 was some hours before the street could be cleared. When, at 
 length, they began to suspect that something was amiss, and the 
 human mass recoiled, the city presented a scene as of a dreadful 
 battlefield. Upwards of one thousand corpses strewed the ground ! 
 hundreds more were maimed for life, thousands more or less 
 injured. A terrible sacrifice indeed, to the calm, sunny goddess, 
 whose clear, green waters flowed on unperturbed, little heeding 
 the agonising struggles of those who sought to do her honour. 
 
 Now the bathing is all under supervision of the native police— 
 Government servants—and their arrangements are admirable. By 
 simply dividing the stream of pilgrims they are kept in order, their 
 numbers regulated, and the recurrence of any accident such as this 
 becomes impossible. 
 
 The spot which is supposed to be especially dear to Krishna on 
 the occasion of his twelfth yearly visit is just above the great new 
 bathing ghaut, where a stone throne is set for him on a raised stone 
 platform between two stately Indian fig-trees, whose thick glossy 
 leaves cast a deep, cool shadow all around. These trees are 
 surrounded by short, very broad pillars of divers heights, whereon 
 loathsome, naked Yogis, of varied degrees of sanctity, lie crouching 
 or sprawling the livelong day, awaiting the offerings of the 
 faithful. No beings could be imagined more villanously ill-favoured 
 and repulsive than these revolting creatures, the very sight of whom 
 always fills one with invincible disgust. 
 
 It was a source of intense satisfaction to us that at the time of 
 
5 2 4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 our visit all these foul wretches had removed their saintly presence 
 from beside the grand old trees, which were so close to our bun¬ 
 galow that we spent many pleasant hours beneath their green 
 shadow, looking down on the glassy river. On these occasions 
 the worthy moonshee who had received such strict commands 
 concerning us, was sure to be hovering somewhere in our neigh¬ 
 bourhood. He was a Mohammedan, one of the very few whose 
 work brings them to this Hindoo city. He was a very great man 
 indeed, and most anxious to impress us with a due sense of his 
 own importance. More especially he was always laughing at the 
 follies of Hindoo worship, though he escorted us to an infinite 
 number of temples, which he would not enter, however, but gave 
 us in charge to the priests, who made the most of their little show, 
 just like children showing their doll-houses, and really appeared 
 quite anxious that we should be amused thereby. 
 
 But the great moonshee had some curious little jugglery of his 
 own, at least I hardly know what else to call it, in this faithless age 
 which cannot believe in evident answers to modern prayer. One 
 day, while we were sitting under the great tree, a poor woman 
 came past, half carried by her son. She was writhing in agony, 
 having been bitten in the foot by a scorpion. When the great man 
 heard what was the matter, he at once knelt down on the ground 
 muttering prayers, and taking up a handful of dust, he therewith 
 rubbed the wound. The woman v r ho had sunk down, almost in a 
 convulsion, slowly came to herself, and in a few minutes arose, 
 blessed him, and walked away, scarcely needing any support at all. 
 We asked him what he had really done to her, and he declared 
 that he had only prayed for her and then touched the foot. 
 
 I find that Forbes, in his “ Indian Travels,” has recorded a very 
 similar occurrence which he attributes to magnetism. It was the 
 case of a man named Lalla Bhai, who certainly had almost 
 miraculous power in curing the bite of the most venomous 
 serpents, and who recovered many natives when apparently on the 
 very brink of death. On one occasion the Resident of Baroche, 
 believing this to be all deception, determined to test his skill. 
 One of the gardeners having been bitten by a cobra, Lalla Bhai 
 
A MEDICAL MYSTERY. 
 
 5^5 
 
 was sent for, and asked whether he could cure the sufferer, who 
 lay in great agony, and quite delirious. He replied that by the 
 blessing of God he should doubtless succeed. But it was not till 
 the man had become speechless, and the state of his pulse showed 
 the rapid approach of death, that Lalla Bhai was permitted 
 to approach him. He stood for a few moments in silent prayer; 
 then commenced waving a short dagger over the dying man, 
 without touching him. The patient still continued motionless, but 
 at the end of half an hour his heart appeared to beat, circulation 
 quickened ; within an hour he moved his limbs and recovered his 
 senses. By the end of the third hour his complete cure was 
 effected, and he was sent home to his family, and in a few 
 days recovered from the weakness occasioned by the convulsive 
 paroxysms which, probably, would never have been so severe 
 or of such long continuance had the counteracting influence been 
 sooner applied. 
 
 The poor woman, whose scorpion bite had been thus strangely 
 cured, had already departed when another poor soul came along 
 and sank down to rest beneath the widespreading shadow of the 
 old trees. She was utterly exhausted, well-nigh fainting; but 
 what was that to her ? for she had walked the whole way from 
 Cashmere to worship at these shrines, and was she not now within 
 a mile of her goal ? The moonshee gave her a handful of pice, 
 but could not resist a little playful chaff on the utility of the 
 journey ! If you glance at a map, and see how far Hardwar lies 
 from Cashmere, you will have some notion of the weary weeks it 
 must have cost that poor fragile woman to reach the shrine whence 
 her prayer must so surely rise to Heaven. I wonder how many 
 Christians would have done as much! 
 
 I must say for our bear-leader, the faithful Sadi Khan, that 
 he obeyed to the letter the commands he had received, and did 
 take immense care of us. Wherever we went, riding the stately 
 elephant, he followed on another, attended by a series of “ forest 
 rangers,” who relieved guard in so important a charge, so that our 
 progress was quite imposing. Considering that we were generally 
 out from dawn till long after sunset, I think the worthy man was 
 
526 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 probably, in his secret heart, glad of our departure. As I before 
 said, he took us a round of innumerable temples, though he 
 himself would not cross the idolatrous threshold, but always 
 waited for us outside. I noticed the same thing at Benares, where 
 we were also in charge of a Mohammedan. 
 
 I think the priests must have favoured us considerably, for 
 they showed us all over the temples without even objecting to 
 our boots, and seemed quite delighted to do the honours of all 
 their hideous idols, painted and carved, their multitudinous brass 
 bells, their brazen horns, their sacred courts all covered with 
 elaborate carving and mythological sculptures. 
 
 This being “ the slack season ” for pilgrims, they had plenty of 
 time on hand, and our visit was quite an event. Anyhow we 
 invariably found them most courteous, gentle, and respectful; and 
 I felt quite sorry to see them look mortified when we shrank back, 
 declining to allow them to adorn us with neck-garlands of sweet 
 roses, or unfragrant marigolds, from off the idol shrines. They 
 were merely offering us the best they had to give, but the innocent 
 flowers seemed tainted from having been offered to idols, so we 
 always refused these gifts. 
 
 I frankly confess, however, that there is something startling in 
 the rapidity with which one gets quite at home amongst all this 
 paraphernalia of heathenism, and how very soon idolatry ceases 
 to shock the mind, and becomes merely a curious study with 
 picturesque adjuncts. Six months previously the sight of a 
 veritable temple with its hideous idols and devout worshippers 
 was a thing from which we shrank in shuddering pity. Now 
 we were quite connoisseurs, and lounged from one temple to an¬ 
 other, inspecting jewels and exquisite stone carving, and anything 
 wonderful the priests had to show, and quite forgot to be shocked. 
 It was all so natural and seemed so entirely in accordance with 
 the feeling of the people ! 
 
 And yet, the more I think, and see, and hear, and read about 
 Indian mythologies, the more bewildering to me do their endless 
 intricacies become. It is like watching the dancing of midges on 
 a summer’s evening, but then each midge is a divinity, who to 
 
SACRED PEBBLES. 
 
 527 
 
 thousands of our fellow men represents a great reality, to be 
 worshipped with the most intense devotion of body, soul, and 
 spirit. Of such midges, the Hindoo Pantheon numbers 330 
 millions, and records long-winded histories of many—biographies 
 celestial or infernal, of their wives and their sons and brothers— 
 prescribing elaborate rituals for the service of many. 
 
 From beginning to end, every detail is eccentric and grotesque, 
 and the whole is a tissue of incoherent confusion, only to be 
 compared to some troubled dream, wherein winds and rain, storm 
 and tempest, sun, stars, and clouds, birds and beasts and fishes, all 
 take active part in the ordinary life of Earth and Heaven, blending 
 in inextricable labyrinths of sacred legends. Yet all of these are to 
 be implicitly believed, and do in some measure influence the 
 daily life of two hundred millions of our fellow subjects, every 
 one of whom, in successive generations covering perhaps three 
 thousand years (no matter to what sect he belongs), has never 
 failed day by day to consecrate his awakening by turning to the 
 east, to address to the rising Sun-god a prayer that he, the Divine 
 Lord of Life, may enlighten the understanding of his servant. 
 
 Truly the Hindoo capacity for worship is extraordinary ! He 
 seems ready to deify and worship everything that can do him 
 either good or ill—human beings noted for virtue or for vice, the 
 animals he most dreads or most venerates—forces of Nature, stocks 
 and stones, ghosts and goblins. He even does homage to the 
 implements of his profession, so the fisher worships his nets, the 
 peasant his plough, the literary man his pen and ink, the merchant 
 his business books, the weaver his loom, the carpenter his plough. 
 Even the conch-shell and the bell which call the worshipper to 
 the temple at the hour of prayer each receive adoration, the bell 
 being recognised as a goddess. 
 
 Among the multitudinous eccentricities of symbolic worship, one 
 of very frequent recurrence is the homage accorded to certain water- 
 worn pebbles, brought from various holy rivers. These are arranged 
 in little metal trays, and attendant priests spend hours daily in 
 pouring single drops of oil on each, while reciting certain prayers. 
 A red pebble symbolises Ganesa, the god of good fortune. Here, 
 
523 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 as in Japan, a crj stal symbolises the Sun, a bit of metallic ore 
 represents the female principle in Nature, white quartz pebbles, 1 
 called Bana-linga, are symbolic of Siva, but these have no value 
 unless they have been brought from the sacred river Nerbudda, 
 otherwise they have no indwelling deity. Krishna is represented 
 by a black fossil ammonite called Sala-grama, but these likewise 
 have no special virtue unless they have been found in the 
 Gandaki river, and as it is not possible to prove whence a fossil 
 has been brought, it is to be feared that frauds are sometimes 
 perpetrated in this matter. 
 
 In some of the temples I observed dozens of oviform pebbles 
 simply set in rows on a great metal dish, but more commonly 
 the five above specified are arranged on a small tray, and by 
 placing each in the centre by turns, and moving the positions of 
 the other four, five distinct orders of ritual can be arranged, so as 
 to honour each god in his turn. Granting any amount of 
 symbolism, all this seemed more like a childish game than like 
 the religion of devout men. 
 
 The ceremonies in the various temples, of course, differ some¬ 
 what; but the following description, taken from the Ras Mala, 
 of the ordinary routine in the temples of Vishnu, may serve as 
 a fair sample of the whole. Each day there are five services. 
 The first is at sunrise, when bells are rung in the temple, 
 and drums and conch-shells are sounded to awaken the . Dev, 
 or god, from his slumbers. The officiating priest, having bathed, 
 enters the temple, and swings before the idol a lamp having five or 
 seven branches. An hour or two later the Dev is dressed in 
 raiment suited to the season. In cold weather he wears a quilted 
 coat, and has a lighted brazier placed near him ; whereas in hot 
 weather he is anointed with sandal-wood dust and water; 
 clothed in fine linen, and adorned with flowers and jewels. Ele 
 is then placed beside a fountain and fanned by his attendants. 
 In the rainy season he is dressed in scarlet cloth and shawls. 
 Then his breakfast of rice, milk, and other things, is set before 
 
 1 Sacred white quartz pebbles are found in Celtic tombs. See In the 
 Hebrides, 0. F. Gordon Gumming. Chatto and Windus. 
 
DAILY LIFE OF A GOD. 
 
 529 
 
 him, while his votaries perform “the sixteen acts of worship.” 
 At noon there is a third service. The Dev is again rubbed 
 with oil of sandal-wood, or sandal-dust and water, and adorned 
 with fresh flowers j the lamps are trimmed, incense burnt, and his 
 dinner is set before him, after which he retires for his noonday sleep, 
 during which perfect silence must be maintained in the temple. 
 
 At three in the afternoon the beating of a drum announces 
 his awakening; his attendants bring in fruit and sweetmeats, 
 and various games for his amusement. At sunset he is set on 
 a throne; his feet are bathed, water is sprinkled over him, his 
 mouth is washed, more sandal-wood ointment, flowers and incense 
 are offered. He is again clothed, goes through the form of a 
 lengthy dinner; concluding with the offering of betel-leaves, and 
 again the branched candlestick is waved before him. 
 
 Meanwhile all the congregation again perform “ the sixteen acts 
 of worship,” one of which is to walk round the temple following 
 the course of the sun (the deisul of the Celts), a ceremony which 
 some perform only once, others seven times, and some even as 
 often as one hundred and eight times ! Only think how giddy they 
 must be ! At each turn a certain formula of prayer is uttered. 
 The number of the turns has reference to the hundred and eight 
 most sacred names of Vishnu, for the record of which the Brahmans 
 have adopted this for the number of beads in their oft-told rosaries. 
 
 The last of the five daily services takes place at night, when the 
 image is supposed to sup on bread and milk, and having received 
 the usual oblations of incense and flowers, he is undressed and put 
 to bed, if he be movable, otherwise he is covered with shawls and 
 quilts. And this is the daily life of Vishnu and Rama, and sundry 
 other favourite deities 1 
 
 Among the most remarkable objects in these Hindoo temples 
 here and elsewhere, are the great statues of bulls in white or black 
 marble or in metal. Great bulls and small bulls, adorned with 
 precious necklaces, or garlands of gay fresh flowers. 
 
 It has often struck me as singular, that in the great Brazen Laver, 
 which Solomon was commanded to make for the use of the Temple, 
 the symbols selected for the adornment of that consecrated Molten 
 
 M M 
 
530 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Sea should have been those which in later ag,es were to hold so 
 prominent a place in the symbolism of faiths so widely spread as 
 those of Brahma and Buddha. That huge laver, you will remember, 
 was supported by twelve oxen of cast metal, three looking to each 
 point of the compass, while the brim of the great sea itself was all 
 wrought with flowers of lilies,, much the same, I suppose, as the 
 pattern of lotus or water-lily with which the throne of Buddha is 
 invariably edged. That sea, as we all know, was broken up by the 
 Chaldeans, and carried to Babylon as old brass. 1 It might happen 
 that some wandering Child of the Captivity may have carried some 
 fragment of this “ lily work” still farther east. 
 
 However, without straining at such vague possibilities, it is 
 impossible to walk through any Hindoo “ ecclesiastical bazaar ” 
 without recalling the descriptions of all vessels of the Temple : 
 the cauldrons, the pots, and the bowls, the shovels and the snuffers 
 and the spoons, the censers, the basins, the lamps, the candlesticks, 
 and all manner of things to be made either of gold or of bright brass 
 which might be continually scoured. Here in the open sunlight, 
 are stalls heaped up with all sorts of brass-work for the use of the 
 worshippers. Incense burners and curious spoons, basins and 
 lamps, pots and bowls, and a thousand other things of which we 
 knew neither the name nor the use, but which the owners were 
 continually scouring, till they gleamed in the sun. 
 
 As to the marble or metal bulls, these seem to have found a place 
 in almost every known form of idolatry, for it is said that the 
 worship of the sacred bull may be traced in almost all lands, 
 beginning of course, with the Apis of the Egyptians, and the golden 
 calf. It also existed in Persia, Rome, Greece, Tyre, and Assyria. 
 It is said that even in Britain this faith once found a place, though 
 I believe that such bovine images as have from time to time been 
 dug up in this country have generally been proved to be of Roman 
 origin. 2 
 
 1 i Kings vii. 25, 26 ; 2 Kings xxv. 13. 
 
 2 Such doubtless were those thirty small stone bulls found at Burghead, in 
 Morayshire, while making the harbour in the immediate neighbourhood of the 
 old Roman well. 
 
ANIMALS SACRED TO DIVERS GODS. 
 
 531 
 
 Here the images represent the mythological bull Nandi, who is 
 ever in attendance on Siva. Most of the gods are generally 
 represented as attended by some bird or animal, on which they can 
 ride should it so please them. Thus while Siva usurps the symbolic 
 bull, his fierce wife Durga, claims the tiger and sometimes the lion. 
 Moreover, Vishnu was incarnate as a man-headed lion. He is also 
 escorted by the human-headed eagle, Garunda. Varuna rides on 
 a human-headed fish, Indra on an elephant. The ram is sacred 
 to Agni, the buffalo to Yama, the goose to Brahma, the vulture to 
 Sani, the white crane to Saravasti, the rat to Ganesa; the parrot to 
 Kamadeva, and the peacock to Skanda (who is a son of Siva, and 
 god of war). He commands the hosts of good spirits and makes 
 war against demons. He is sometimes represented with six heads, 
 and twelve arms, each bearing a different weapon. At other times 
 he appears as a handsome lad, riding on a peacock—a great contrast 
 to his ugly fat elephant-headed brother Ganesa, the god of wisdom, 
 who is escorted by the sagacious rat. 
 
 All these, and many other animals, seem to take their place 
 naturally in this all-embracing mythology—but the association of 
 Christian saints with animals is more remarkable; and, as in the 
 incomprehensible vision of Ezekiel, 1 one wonders how St. John first 
 came to be associated with the eagle, St. Luke with the ox, St. Mark 
 with the lion, and why St. John’s immunity from poison should 
 have been symbolised by a serpent rising from the sacred chalice. 
 
 Before coming to Hardwar I had been somewhat afraid that the 
 people might dislike my sketching propensities in a place of such 
 sanctity; but I found that, on the contrary, this proved a strong 
 bond of sympathy, as the usual Hindoo interest in anything like a 
 picture insured me every facility for my work ; and so it came to 
 pass that my pleasantest studio was the balcony of an exceedingly 
 reverent old Brahman, whose curious, simple little household 
 arrangements were in themselves interesting. His little mud oven 
 in one corner of the room ; his poor little cooking-pots and lotas, 
 a rickety old bedstead, and little bags of grain, in another; while 
 the place of honour was, of course, assigned to a hideous idol, 
 
 1 Ezekiel i. 10. 
 
 MM2 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 5 0 *\ 
 
 crowned with flowers, and wet with holy water, and smeared with 
 red paint to symbolise the offering of blood. 
 
 From that balcony I could look right up the main street, with 
 its carved houses, its thatched bazaar, its rich lights and shadows, 
 and the ever-changing groups of monkeys and human beings 
 passing to and fro, or loitering in the market-place—an ever- 
 shifting living kaleidoscope. Right before me was the great 
 smouldering log, whereat the priests were sealing their bottles of 
 holy water. 
 
 Just beyond sat a young Brahman perched on a table, dressed 
 up to represent one of the gods. He was thus passing his days 
 in a pleasant inaction truly profitable, inasmuch as almost all who 
 went down to worship and bathe at the holiest ghaut made him 
 some little offering. He sat on the topmost step, where every 
 bather must leave his slippers; so that there were sometimes 
 such piles of these heaped up, that you wondered how any man 
 ever hoped to recover his own queer curly-toed treasures. 
 Doubtless they were safe enough here, but at railway stations 
 and other places, the trusting owner of anything extra smart 
 is very apt to find that something amazingly shabby has been 
 substituted ! 
 
 Close to these steps a brisk sale of flowers was going on ; and 
 great baskets of roses and large African marigolds added to the 
 brilliancy of the foreground. Every worshipper of the beautiful 
 river invested largely in these, and many garlands were showered 
 upon the waters. Multitudes of Yogis were starting on distant 
 journeys with great jars of Ganges water in wicker cases slung 
 across the shoulder from a bamboo adorned with peacocks’ feathers. 
 These men are almost invariably dressed in deep yellow or saffron 
 robes, that being the most sacred colour of these worshippers of 
 the Sun-god—just as the old Highlanders accounted it lucky, as 
 being the colour of his rays. 
 
 Deeply interesting as were these days in the city, there were 
 others still more pleasant, when our steady elephant carried us 
 right through the Ganges to a large grassy island in mid-stream, 
 where we might spend the livelong day in perfect peace. As the 
 
THE QUEEN-CITY OF THE GANGES. 
 
 533 
 
 huge creature walked through the river, his great body made a 
 swirl in the water like the track of a steamboat. The crot sing was 
 a very slow process, as even this half of the river was exceedingly 
 wide, and the sensible old “Hathi” never moved his feet till he 
 had sounded the ground before him, and made sure of safety. 
 The only inhabitants of the green island were a set of wild-looking 
 Yogis, intent only on their adoration of the lovely river, to which 
 every now and then they rushed down, always jabbering the 
 same unvarying cry, and ending with a yell. Then they once 
 more retreated to their hut. I suppose our watch-dog considered 
 them safe neighbours, for having once seen us safely settled, 
 he allowed us two days of the most enchanting repose, only 
 fetching us in the evening for an elephant ride to some place 
 worth seeing. 
 
 When I call our island grassy, you must remember that I speak 
 of Indian grasses, waving far overhead; tall tossing plumes and 
 spikes, black, white, pink, or green, but chiefly pink. Part of the 
 island was covered with low brushwood, bearing small yellow 
 berries like little plums, of which the natives eat quantities—an 
 example which on this occasion we followed with more pleasure 
 than was warranted by the flavour of the fruit, its wild growth on 
 that far-away island giving it a charm which you would well under¬ 
 stand could you catch but one glimpse of that lovely spot, with 
 the glassy, green river flowing so calmly by. 
 
 Indeed, Hardwar at this season had altogether a feeling of calm 
 and repose that I found nowhere else in India. I do not, how¬ 
 ever, suppose that many who have seen the place would endorse 
 that sentiment, inasmuch as the only week when English people 
 come here is at the time of the great fair. Then their white tents 
 are pitched among a thousand more, every available corner is 
 alive with swarms of pilgrims or merchants, and all is noise and 
 stir and hubbub ; such ceaseless noise as none can fully realise 
 who have never mingled in an Eastern crowd. 
 
 But to-day there was peace unspeakable on earth and sky : the 
 crystalline goddess and the beautiful home of her worshippers 
 were alike looking their very best. And, in truth, the little city 
 
534 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 as seen from the island is very fair to look upon. Each temple 
 and stately dwelling faces the river; and clinging to its banks, 
 the city extends in one long line of graceful pyramidal spires 
 and domes, with porches of pillars rising from hallowed courts, 
 and overshadowed by sacred trees, which throw their trembling 
 shadows athwart their own fair image, reflected in the clear mirror 
 below. 
 
 The beautiful goddess loves her own birthplace too (those 
 snowy peaks above Gangoutri), and in her clearest, stillest pools, 
 she reflects them faithfully, as though she would cherish the image 
 of that pure home of her infancy ere she hurries on to receive 
 the gross homage of myriads of worshippers, by whom her clear 
 depths are too quickly polluted, and the loveliness of her aqua¬ 
 marine waters changed into the foul yellow stream, from touch of 
 which we in turn shrink, in her later days. The Ganges at 
 Hard war—the Ganges at Benares! no sweet country village, 
 rapidly transformed into a seething, bustling, manufacturing city, 
 with blackness of busy chimneys and horrors of chemical works, 
 can afford a more striking contrast than does the lovely river at 
 these two most sacred places of pilgrimage. One week later we 
 beheld the spoilt beauty, which, having passed from city to city, 
 had reached the very acme of fame and of pollution, and was 
 hurrying on to that ocean whose waters would for many miles be 
 discoloured by its filth. 
 
 The total length of that mighty stream is fifteen hundred miles, 
 of which thirteen hundred are navigable. It is difficult for us 
 in these days of swift railways to realise the incalculable value 
 of such a river as the Ganges, forming a broad highway from the 
 sea to the very foot of the Himalayas, affording a constant route 
 for communication and traffic in a country where good roads 
 and the art of making bridges were alike unknown till first 
 the Mohammedan conquerors, and afterwards the English, made 
 them for themselves. 
 
 We raise our eyes from the reflections in the clear green waters 
 to the glittering snow-peaks. The highest of these is Gangoutri, 
 where, at the base of the mighty glacier, lies a low ice-arch called 
 
THE GANGES FROM ITS SOURCE TO THE SEA. 535 
 
 the Cow’s Mouth, whence, at a height of 13,800 feet above the 
 sea, flows the Bhagirathi or true Ganges, in a stream which is 
 about twenty-seven feet wide. This shortly afterwards receives 
 the waters of the Alcananda, and the double stream enters the 
 great plain of Hindoostan at Hardwar, and is henceforth known 
 to us as the Ganges, and reverenced by myriads of Hindoos as 
 the goddess Ganga. Hence she flows onward, doing her good 
 work in fertilising the land, and receiving the loving worship of 
 her followers, receiving moreover the waters of many tributary 
 streams, the Jumna, the Goggra, the Goomtee, the Sone, and 
 many others. 
 
 About two hundred miles from the sea, the delta begins to be 
 formed—a delta twice as large as that of the Nile. In the net¬ 
 work of waters which now interlace the country in every direction, 
 two principal arms dispute the supremacy. The eastern, retaining 
 the name of Ganges, mingles its waters with those of the Brahma¬ 
 pootra; but the western, or Hooghly, is said by the natives to be 
 the true Bhagarathi, and therefore the most holy. Between these 
 two lies a vast alluvial flat, nearly two hundred miles in breadth ; 
 the remaining waters, passing through a swampy, pestiferous 
 jungle, known as the Sunderbunds, the haunt of tigers and other 
 evil beasts, enter the sea by about twenty mouths : in short the 
 mouths of the Ganges form a series of estuaries—a triangular 
 network of streams extending two hundred miles along the 
 coast. 
 
 Brahmans and Buddhists alike have strange legends concerning 
 the source of this and other mighty streams, from dim caverns in 
 that mysterious world of rock and ice. They tell how Siva once 
 came down to earth on a pillar of fire; and how when he returned 
 to heaven he converted his fiery pillar into the mythical mountain 
 Meru, that it might for ever be to his worshippers a symbol of his 
 divine protection and presence. This vast world-mountain, though 
 invisible to any eye save that of faith, towers heavenward, far 
 above the highest Himalayan summit. It is surmounted by three 
 cones, on the greatest of which are three golden peaks whereon 
 repose the sacred Triad. 
 
536 
 
 IN TIIE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Within the hidden recesses of this mysterious mountain, the 
 gods prepare the Life Drink, which is the germ of all organic life. 
 In its dark caverns dwell the Asurs or giants of the Buddhists, 
 while their Yakas or demons roam on its surface, and around the 
 summit are the abodes of such human souls as have attained to 
 exalted degrees of merit. 
 
 From this sacred mountain of Meru there issues a celestial 
 river, which flows round the invisible city of Brahma, and then 
 discharges its waters into a mystic lake, Mansarovara. This lake 
 is guarded by four huge rocks in the form of animals, from whose 
 mouths issue four great rivers. The Ganges, as we have seen, 
 flows from the mouth of the cow, which symbolises earth. The 
 Hoangho is said to issue from that of an elephant, which is another 
 symbol of mother earth. The Oxus flows from the mouth of a 
 horse, symbolic of water, while the tiger, emblem of evil, vomits 
 forth the Yenisei, which flows towards frozen deserts. 
 
 Various traditions tell how in some of the wars of the gods, the 
 mystic peaks of Meru have been broken, and fragments thereof 
 hurled far and wide, each becoming a centre of holiness for the 
 land where it fell. One great rock-mass, having fallen into the 
 sea, became the island of Lanka or Ceylon. Many other myths 
 have sprung up concerning this invisible crown of Himla, for 
 there is no ending to the labyrinths of Oriental fable. Neverthe¬ 
 less as we watch the golden sunset lighting up the great white 
 masses of cloud, piled in fantastic form, like etherealised moun¬ 
 tains, and dwarfing the true snows of earth, we recognise the 
 poetic glory of that mystic Meru, which to so many millions of 
 our fellows, represents the very throne of the Creator. 
 
 Descending once more from the ideal, we gaze on an outline 
 well-nigh as shadowy, and quite as inaccessible, namely, that of 
 Gangoutri, the highest snow-peak we have yet seen. It towers to 
 a height of 22,798 feet, that is to say, about ten thousand feet 
 above the source of the Ganges, near to which there is a small 
 temple, holier than all others, but so difficult of access that com¬ 
 paratively few pilgrims venture farther than Hardwar, which is 
 considerably more than a hundred miles short of the mark. The 
 
PILGRIMAGE TO THE SOURCE OF THE GANGES. 537 
 
 peak stood up so distinct and bold that we could not have guessed 
 a quarter of that distance, but then the wonderful clearness of the 
 atmosphere so soon after the rains brings everything close to the 
 eye. The apparent distance is very much greater in hot weather, 
 when a filmy haze overspreads the landscape. 
 
 In the little temple at Gangoutri there is a silver image of the 
 goddess Ganga, in the form of a woman ; also of Bhagirath and 
 other local deities. A small wooden shed is provided for such 
 adventurous pilgrims as reach this holy of holies, where they must 
 remain for seven days. Should they chance to die of cold during 
 this pilgrimage, it matters little, as such a death would atone for 
 the greatest crimes of which man could be guilty. The pilgrim 
 must accomplish the last day of his journey fasting. On reaching 
 the shrine the Brahmans take him in hand, receive his offerings, 
 shave his whole body, and then allow him to bathe in the icy 
 stream, and to perform funeral rites in honour of his deceased 
 ancestors. At the end of the seven days he may depart in peace, 
 fully shriven, and carrying with him precious treasures of holy 
 water, ashes of sacred cow-dung, and withered basil-leaves. The 
 merit of having accomplished such a pilgrimage will be to him a 
 safeguard against many of life’s troubles, and will carry him 
 satisfactorily through his subsequent transmigrations. 
 
 It appears that here, as in other lands, the poor are most rich 
 in faith, for the pilgrims who undertake this toilsome journey are 
 mostly of the poorer sort. It is said, however, that the number 
 of all classes who find their way to these hill sanctuaries has 
 greatly increased in proportion as the attendance at the great 
 gatherings in the central provinces has lessened. Moreover, 
 railways and good roads give facilities for travel of which multi¬ 
 tudes gladly avail themselves. 
 
 The hill festivals here seem to be much the same as those 
 we noticed in the Kanawur valley, the sacrifices being followed 
 by the same mystic religious dance to the music of loud brazen 
 instruments. The girls and the men form in two long rows, 
 men and women vis-d-vzs. Each line is linked together by every 
 individual clasping his or her neighbour on either side round 
 
533 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 the waist, and for an hour at a time they go on advancing and 
 retreating, while singing choruses. These festivals are kept up all 
 night by moon and torchlight. 
 
 It is not only religious devotees who visit this shrine. It is 
 a favourite hunting-ground for musk-deer, snow-bears, and burrell, 
 or wild sheep. Sometimes the sportsmen who have come hither 
 in search of these, have come in for more than they expected, 
 from severe shocks of earthquake; and these have told us how, 
 when peacefully encamped in the calm moonlight, they had 
 suddenly become conscious of that dread trembling, when the 
 strong foundations of the earth seemed to upheave and huge 
 masses of rock fell with headlong crash from the cliffs overhead, 
 and rebounding, vanished in the abyss below. 
 
 While we were basking on our pleasant island like a pair of 
 turtles, or crocodiles, or any other creatures that love the warm 
 sunshine and the ripple of gleaming waters, and while we were 
 moreover rejoicing in the sweet cool breath brought down by the 
 river from the ice-range, suddenly we beheld a most startling 
 apparition ! Something rustled in the tall grass, and brushed aside 
 the wild plum-trees, and stalked curiously onward. We could 
 scarcely believe our eyes. Just imagine Robinson Crusoe’s feelings 
 on seeing Friday, and then imagine ours on beholding a brace 
 of white men taking a day’s shooting on our beloved desert 
 isle ! Its romance was gone. In another second they were 
 also gone, but we were conscious of no longer being the sole 
 pale-faces in the district, and as we sat next morning on the 
 Yogis’ pillars beneath the great sacred banyans, we could see 
 civilised creatures clad in common domestic broadcloth, busy 
 photographing! 
 
 Twice in the lovely evenings the gentle old elephant Motee, 
 “ The Pearl,” took us to Kanthal, a picturesque town two miles 
 down the river, where, at the time of the great fair, the wealthy 
 and high-caste Hindoos encamp, so as to be out of the tumult of 
 Hardwar itself. Here are more temples, more carved houses, 
 more gateways, great huge gateways like exaggerated bars of York ; 
 nut miserable architecture, with stucco, as on the palaces of 
 
CITY OF KANTHAL. 539 
 
 Lucknow, instead of such carving as we had seen in the Mahom- 
 medan cities, such as Delhi and Agra. 
 
 As to the monkeys, they were literally innumerable. Every 
 branch of every tree seemed alive with them. On houses and 
 balconies they were perched, now swinging over garden walls, now 
 scampering over the roofs ; sometimes nursing their babies tenderly 
 as a woman ; then darting suddenly off, leaving the little one 
 swinging on the tip of the maternal tail; sometimes carrying a 
 baby in each arm ; sometimes running on all-fours with the baby 
 slung below and grasping the parental body. Sometimes the 
 young one sits on the shoulder, or astride on the back; in short 
 whatever attitudes human beings could devise seem to come quite 
 naturally to these absurd creatures. 
 
 We passed from one shady, bowery garden to another, and in 
 each were loaded with roses and jessamine, graceful offerings from 
 the inhabitants. Then we took up our station on a terraced 
 garden-wall, with turrets; a high wall rising from the river’s brink, 
 whence we could look right down into its clear green depths, far 
 below us ; or else might look up the quiet reaches and along the 
 wooded shores, to where the city of Hardwar with its long line of 
 temples lay mirrored in the calm aquamarine pools; and the 
 grassy island, and the Siwalik hills (honeycombed with the cave- 
 dwellings of the Yogis) and the Himalayas, with their ethereal 
 peaks, which the natives call Himla, “ the Palace of Snow,” all 
 were softened and blended by the mellow rose-coloured light of 
 evening. 
 
 Soon the pleasant twilight deepened into night; faint lights 
 began to twinkle among the black foliage. A thousand fairy flies 
 gleamed through the darkness, now veiling, now revealing, their 
 pale green lamps; till the whole air glittered with these “ winged 
 lights that spangle India’s fields.” 
 
 Presently the fire-flies seemed to be floating on the river also. 
 These were tiny lights, set in little boats, which, launched at 
 Hardwar, had come thus far in safety, weathering all dangers of 
 currents and ripples, and auguring well for the safety of him whose 
 welfare they symbolised. For still, as in the days of Lalla Rookh, 
 
540 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 the Hindoo maids or mothers launch a frail raft, a bamboo, a 
 cocoa-nut, an earthenware jar, or some other tiny boat, wherein is 
 placed a cluster of lamps. If these burn stedfastly till the boat 
 floats out of sight, all goes well with the loved one. But should 
 the little bark be caught by a sudden gust of wind, or engulfed in 
 the darkness, then the shrinking woman with the sad gentle eyes 
 believes that the blast of adversity will surely overcloud his 
 future. And so she steals home through the darkness, heavy of 
 heart. 
 
 We are in duty bound to believe that these lamps burn only for 
 child or husband ; lover being a relationship by no means acknow¬ 
 ledged in a land where no maiden may choose her own lord, or 
 even behold him, until her bridal day. We tried to make our 
 great moonshee weave some graceful romances for us, d la 
 Feramorz, but he preserved a discreet silence, for it is quite against 
 etiquette to allude to the existence of women, and all the native 
 men seemed invariably to shrink from any comment on feminine 
 actions. 
 
 If we had only reached Hard war one night sooner, we should 
 have seen the Dewali, or feast of lamps, when the town was 
 illuminated, and the whole river covered with little fire oracles. 
 At Dehra, where there is no river, the people had to be content 
 with commoner sorts of light. But in every door and every 
 window the women placed tiny earthenware saucers of oil, with 
 a wick, which acted as simple lamps. I think the only person 
 who had no light, was an English clergyman in the hotel, who 
 feared it was something idolatrous. To me it only seemed a 
 graceful custom, so I still cherish my little Dehra lamp in memory 
 of the Dewali. 
 
 I am told that at the Japanese feast of lanterns, small lighted 
 lamps are sometimes thus launched on the waters; not, however, 
 with reference to the well-being of the living, but that their fate 
 may reveal that of the souls of friends and relations, who have 
 passed away to the spirit-land. 
 
 Only one day more remained to us in this sweet calm spot. We 
 spent part of it in the old priest’s balcony ; and his neighbours, 
 
A NIGHT MARCH IN THE JUNGLE. 
 
 S4i 
 
 mustering courage, came to inspect the drawing of the street, and 
 each with immense delight pointed out his own house, and wanted 
 to be represented at his own door. They said surely we would 
 not go away without a picture of the sacred ghaut; and strongly 
 advised us to stay where we were, as indeed we were sorely 
 tempted to do. But we feared that our bungalow might be 
 required by the forest officers who had so courteously placed it 
 at our disposal. So, soon after sunset, we very regretfully said 
 good-bye to our moonshee and the foresters, and the quiet little 
 bungalow, and saw the last of Hardwar. 
 
 Once more we were in our “ doolies,” the canvas box-beds, with 
 our dozen strong bearers, and a couple of extra men as “masal- 
 chees” or torch-bearers, who marched before each doolie to show 
 the way, feeding their torches from time to time with oil from a 
 hollow gourd. The red torchlight only made the darkness of the 
 jungle seem more intense ; while throwing a strong glare on our 
 white canvas box-beds, and the coarse white turbans and drapery 
 of the bearers, and falling with ruddy glow on their dark faces 
 and glossy limbs—a fine study in browns. 
 
 There is something very strange—almost solemn—in such a 
 night march; when the deep stillness is only broken by the 
 measured tread of the bearers, and the deep-toned “Khaberdar,” 
 “ take care ! ” which, uttered by the leader, is chorused by all at 
 every difficult bit in the road. Then, too, strange voices resound 
 through the forest; insects of every sort awaken, and by turns 
 you hear sounds of chirping, and drumming, and whirring ; 
 some harsh, some shrill. Sometimes they seem all to join in 
 chorus, as if to suggest something of the exuberant animal life 
 which lies hidden under the green leaves. Then pale phos¬ 
 phorescent lights glimmer in the darkness, and mark the track 
 of the so-called fire-flies, which are really luminous bettles. 
 
 Our bearers took their onward march in shorter stages than 
 they had done in coming. They halted repeatedly, to rest and 
 hubble-bubble; always first kindling a great bonfire, to scare 
 away possible tigers or other noxious creatures—a precaution by 
 
542 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 no means unnecessary, as a night adventure in the forest is not 
 desirable in reality, however thrilling to remember. My host 
 had told me how one night, returning through this jungle on an 
 elephant, an old rogue elephant 1 had come up and joined com¬ 
 pany, running alongside for a considerable distance. The position 
 was one of extreme danger, and he was unarmed. Happily he 
 chanced to have two or three boxes of lucifer matches; these 
 he struck at intervals, and the elephant, not knowing what to 
 make of them, was fairly puzzled, and finally turned aside, to the 
 infinite relief of the traveller. 
 
 We heard of another gentleman whose bearers suddenly 
 dropped him, shouting “Tiger! tiger !” and took to their heels. 
 He too was defenceless, so he did the only thing he could. He 
 closed both doors of his doolie—a feeble protection indeed against 
 the tiger’s mighty paw! It proved efficacious, however, for when 
 the great beautiful creature came up, and found only a canvas- 
 covered box, she did not quite know what to make of it, so after 
 snuffing round it for some time, and rolling it clean over and 
 over once or twice, she trotted back into the jungle, and was no 
 more heard of. 
 
 It is not, however, always that these night alarms end so 
 satisfactorily. One friend of ours had a very awful adventure 
 on her night march from Nynee Tal, accompanied only by her 
 English maid. She had been asleep, and awoke suddenly to find 
 her doolie on the ground, and a great blaze of light all round her. 
 Her maid stood by, and told her there was an alarm of wild 
 elephants. Springing up, she saw that her coolies were encircling 
 her with a ring of bonfires, while in the darkness beyond she 
 could just discern the grey forms of a troop of these great wild 
 creatures. A few paces farther was another doolie, which had 
 likewise been stopped by the same alarm. Its occupant, a 
 gentleman, was standing by, in a state of great agitation, holding 
 in his hand a revolver, which he occasionally fired vaguely to- 
 
 1 A solitary old male elephant, who had been expelled from the herd, 
 invariably fierce. 
 
RETURN TO DEHRA DOON. 
 
 543 
 
 wards the beasts, to scare them. So tremulous, however, was 
 his hand, and so uncertain his aim, that pointing his revolver 
 full at the unhappy maid, he shot her dead, the bullet winding 
 the face of the lady. In the horror of the moment all crowded 
 round the body of the poor girl, quite forgetting the fires ; where¬ 
 upon the elephants watching their opportunity, made a grand 
 charge, and utterly routed the intruders. Away rushed every one 
 helter-skelter into the forest. Happily for the lady she tumbled 
 into a hole, and there lay quietly concealed till some hours 
 afterwards, when, with returning daylight, the elephants re¬ 
 treated ; and her coolies coming to search for her, they once 
 more resumed their dreary march, carrying with them the body 
 of the poor girl. 
 
 I am thankful to say we had no adventure of any sort, but full 
 leisure to see how picturesque were these night fires in the dark 
 forest; with the groups of coolies squatting round, and the tall 
 pink grasses and sombre foliage overhead, with openings here and 
 there through which the glittering stars looked down. 
 
 We reached Dehra in the morning, and gave full account of our 
 pleasant gipsying. Then, having restored my pretty companion 
 to her parents, and taken one last general look at beautiful Dehra. 
 I resumed my southward route, to rejoin my own people on their 
 return from Lahore. One more night of travelling, parti} by 
 gharry, partly by doolie, alone with the wild-looking (but in truth 
 patient and gentle) brownies, and then once more a return to 
 railways and highly-developed civilisation. 
 
 I was then sorely tempted by several pleasant invitations to 
 Nynee Tal; another favourite hill station, and one which possesses 
 a great advantage over its rivals in the beautiful lake, whose 
 pleasure-boats of all sorts lend a very unwonted charm to 
 Himalayan scenery, where any piece of water larger than the 
 tank of the temples is rare indeed—so rare, that I for one 
 never saw even a pond. So this blue lake is thought very 
 precious and very lovely indeed by the dwellers in Nynee Tal, 
 whose countless pretty bungalows, perched on the steep wooded 
 
544 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 shores, look down on those placid waters through tangled mazes 
 of scarlet rhododendron and oak, each branch of which is matted 
 with rich brown mosses, a soft bed of luxuriant ferns of every 
 species. 
 
 Only the houses on the highest levels, however, can catch a 
 glimpse of the snowy range, the grandest view of which is to 
 be had from Almorah, a station somewhat farther in the hills, 
 now chiefly noted as a tea-growing district; this is the village 
 which Bishop Heber said reminded him of Chester—one long 
 wide street, paved with slabs of slate and closed at either end 
 by a gate. One half of the street being on higher ground than 
 the other half, the ascent is made by a low flight of steps, up 
 which the hill ponies walk, as easily as the Maltese donkeys 
 do up the streets of stairs. The houses have wooden verandahs, 
 in some cases richly carved. At one end of this long street is an 
 old Ghoorka fort (for Almorah is near the Ghoorka frontier), at 
 the other is a modern English fortification. 
 
 Tantalising as was the thought of a visit to Nynee Tal, I was 
 still more sorely tempted southward by Darjeeling, which I am 
 told is the most beautiful of all the “ hill stations.” It also is in 
 the Himalayas, though fully 800 miles from Simla, and only 361 
 miles from Calcutta, from which indeed it can now be reached 
 by twenty-four hours of luxurious railway travelling ! This rail¬ 
 way, which was opened in the summer of 1881, is considered to 
 De a triumph of engineering skill, the terminus at Darjeeling being 
 7,690 feet above the level of the sea. Some of the gradients 
 mount one in twenty-one feet, and there are curves of seventy 
 feet radius. The line has been described as suggestive of “ a 
 snake winding up into the clouds.” 
 
 But this travelling-made-easy had not become possible at the 
 time of my visit, so when the friend who was to have accompanied 
 me became seriously ill, I gave up the idea. Had we carried it 
 out it is probable that we should have followed it up by a second 
 winter among innumerable quaint native cities; and then such 
 a summer in Cashmere as would have been a memory of delight 
 
FROM HARDWAR TO BENARES. 
 
 545 
 
 for ever. And from Cashmere, a rapid run to Southern India, 
 and a third winter spent in exploring its wonderful temples, 
 such temples as are nowhere to be seen in Bengal! In short, 
 there seemed no particular reason for not gliding on for years, in 
 one unvarying summer, and ever passing from one new beauty to 
 another ! 
 
 However we just drifted along as usual, and so it came to pass 
 that a very few days after we had paid our homage to the Ganges 
 at its source, we awoke to find ourselves within sight of the same 
 broad river nearly a thousand miles farther down the country, at 
 the holy city of Benares. 
 
 N N 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BENARES. 
 
 The City of Siva—Ancient History—Grotesque Architecture—Temple of 
 Doorga—Of Ganesa—Of Maha-devah—Tables of Money-changers— 
 Sacred Bulls and Peacocks—Sarnath, the ancient Buddhist City—Benares 
 from the Ganges—Sale of Holy Water—Mud Idols—-The Retention of 
 Breath—A Devoutly Spent Day—The Threefold Cord—Manufactured 
 Brahmans—Undermining by the Ganges—Of various Sunwise Turns— 
 The Goddess of Small-pox—The Burning Ghaut—Hindoo Rosaries— 
 Shaving—A Wedding—Zenana Mission—Eastern Women—England. 
 
 From Hardwar to Benares! No words can convey to any 
 western mind the concentrated essence of sanctity conferred on 
 the Hindoo pilgrim by visiting these two most holy cities. Such 
 a pilgrimage would in bygone days have involved many weeks of 
 slow and painful progress, with hardships and difficulties on every 
 hand ; and many a pious Hindoo has lived and died without 
 being able to accomplish an act which would have loaded him 
 with merit. 
 
 Now the swift railway has so simplified the business that in 
 less than a week he can slip easily from one to the other; and, 
 having worshipped the clear transparent waters of the beautiful 
 Ganga at her source, can, a very few days later, catch his first 
 glimpse of the wonderful city of Siva, with its thousand domes 
 and pyramids glittering in the early light, while the yellow rays 
 of the rising sun lend a halo and a charm to the broad stream, 
 though its waters are now turbid and foul, polluted by the filth of 
 myriad worshippers. 
 
 As Muttra and Bindrabund are emphatically the cities of 
 
BENARES. 
 
A COMPLEX DEITY. 
 
 547 
 
 Vishnu, so is Benares especially sacred to Siva, that complex 
 deity, who, under his title of Maha-devah, “ the great God, is 
 adored as the author of all life, while, as Siva, he is worshipped 
 with trembling, as the dread destroyer of his own work. Thus he 
 embodies the most varied qualities, appearing sometimes as the 
 source of happiness, the deliverer, the blessed one,—sometimes 
 terrible and adverse. Now he is young and beautiful, and now 
 grotesquely hideous ; now he is portrayed with one face and three 
 eyes, and from the central eye flashes destructive fire—again he 
 has five faces on one head. He is the patron of most respectable 
 tradesmen and of most disreputable robbers. He is lord of the 
 storms and of the goblins, and so comprehensive and all-embracing 
 are his functions that his worshippers have to enumerate 1008 
 names and attributes when rendering him homage. 
 
 Though Vishnu is the most popular god, and most in sympathy 
 with the human beings in whose likeness he was incarnate, the 
 worship of Siva is more general and more apparent throughout 
 the land. This is said to be in a great measure a matter of 
 economy, inasmuch as the worship of Siva requires only the offer¬ 
 ing of a few sacred trefoil leaves 1 and red flowers, or a smear of 
 red paint, with a libation of water, to a rude stone emblem,— 
 whereas the worship of Vishnu seems to involve a temple and 
 priests and continual offerings of food and raiment for the use of 
 the divine doll, which must be dressed and undressed and 
 fed, like any other great man, his attendants of course consuming 
 the offerings. Such little trifles as flowers, perfumes, and sacred 
 tulasi (basil) leaves must be brought as a matter of course. 
 
 Here, however, there is no question of economy in worship, for 
 the wealth of Hindoostan has from time immemorial flowed to 
 enrich the city of temples. 
 
 At this spot the river sweeps in a stately curve, its banks on one 
 side rising abruptly, so that the city rises from its waters in the 
 form of a crescent, facing the east; and the morning sun lights 
 up each beautiful line of its strange architecture. The opposite 
 shore of the river is flat and bare, for though the worshippers of 
 1 Of the Bilva, i.e. the wood-apple, /Egele Marmelos. 
 
 N N C 
 
543 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Vishnu did in olden times attempt to build on the right bank a 
 city which should rival that of Siva, their attempt failed, and the 
 triumphant inhabitants of the ancient Kasi mocked at their am¬ 
 bition, declaring that whoever died in the new city of Vyas-Kasi 
 would certainly be metamorphosed into an ass, than which no 
 greater depth of degradation could be conceived. This threat 
 had its weight. The city was forsaken, and only a few picturesque 
 ruins near Ramnuggur mark its site. Here the Maharajah of 
 Benares has his luxurious palace, but no Rajah in his senses would 
 risk transmigration into the body of an ass ; so when his last hour 
 approaches, he is carried across the river that he may die in the 
 sacred city, and so secure a certain and direct passport into 
 heaven. Not only must he die there, but there also must he 
 be cremated, as only the north bank of the Ganges has special 
 virtue for this purpose. 
 
 The name of Benares is derived from the rivers Barana and 
 Asi, which flow into the Ganges on either side of it. This name, 
 however, has only been adopted for the last five hundred years, or 
 thereabouts. Probably it was given when the worshippers of 
 Siva rebuilt the city after their expulsion of the Buddhists. 
 
 The original city of Kasi is said to have heen coeval with 
 Babylon and Nineveh, when it was the chief centre of Hindoo 
 learning, and great and wise men flocked to it. Its earliest fame 
 was in the days of the Rig-Veda, when faith was pure and mono¬ 
 theistic. At that time we are told that temples and places of 
 public worship were unknown in India. In the course of ages, 
 however, when men had learnt to worship many gods, and to 
 multiply temples and holy places, Kasi became not merely the 
 wisest, but also the most sacred city in the land. Hence when 
 Buddha desired to spread his new faith, he selected Kasi as the 
 most fit city wherein to “turn the wheel of the law.” 
 
 At that time there were 700 schools and colleges in the city; 
 the wealthiest merchants dwelt here, and great nobles and warriors 
 assembled at all festivals in vast throngs. Treasures of all sorts 
 were stored in the town, and the streets glittered with the gold 
 and precious raiment of the people. 
 
THE CITY OF TEMPLES. 
 
 549 
 
 Where the ruins of the modern fort now stand, there was then 
 a strong Hindoo citadel, commanding the junction of the rivers 
 Barana and Ganges. Here especially, the men-at-arms assembled 
 in force, armed with spears and scimitars, and iron-bound clubs ; 
 while the turrets were defended by archers whose arrows were six 
 feet in length. Chariots of war, and elephants whose tusks were 
 armed with sabres, were among the locomotive defences of the 
 the city. 
 
 When the faith of Buddha overspread the city, his temples and 
 monasteries grew up on every side. Of the latter upwards of 
 thirty are known to have existed. When the reaction came, and 
 the sect of Jains sprang up, seeking to amalgamate both faiths, a 
 third set of temples arose, and the city became one great cluster 
 of domes, pyramids, and pinnacles. Then came the invasion of 
 the Moslem hordes, who, sweeping down from beyond the Indus, 
 carried fire and sword wherever they went; and, seeking to destroy 
 all idolatrous worship, razed to the ground a vast multitude of 
 unholy places, without respect to their beauty, and built in their 
 places mosques and minarets. 
 
 Once more, however, the Hindoo faith ventured to lift its head, 
 and once more did Benares become a City of Temples ; num¬ 
 bering fifteen hundred spires and pyramids. Yet again must Islam 
 assert itself, and the great Emperor Aurungzebe overthrew so many 
 of these, that the soil of the city is said to be raised to a very 
 considerable height by their ruins. Then, on the highest and most 
 central point in the city, he built the grand mosque that bears his 
 name ; which, placed on the verge of a steep cliff, rises sheer from 
 the river, overtopping all other buildings. No wonder his Hindoo 
 subjects hated him ! Now, under the religious toleration of British 
 rule, a new supply of modern temples has arisen, insignificant 
 compared with those of the past, but numbering about fifteen 
 hundred, while every ghaut, garden, and tree has its own especial 
 idols and shrines besides. It has been calculated that there must 
 be fully half a million of idols in the city, each receiving a fair 
 share of worship ! Mohammedanism is represented by about three 
 hundred mosques. 
 
550 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Thus we see that every phase of faith has here reigned by turns, 
 and even now, though the Brahmans would fain make it appear 
 that Siva, alias Maha-devah, alias Bisewara, is the god of the city, 
 multitudes of others are worshipped ; and every sect into which 
 Hindooism is subdivided has here found a home. So we pass 
 from the temples of Siva to those of Ganesa, of Hanuman, of 
 Krishna, Vishnu, and others without number. 
 
 As the most distinctive symbol of Vishnu, the Sun-god, is the 
 wheel which he carries in one hand, so is Siva specially distin¬ 
 guished by the trisula, or trident, which is generally said to symbolise 
 his threefold work—creative, destructive, and regenerative. One 
 or other of these symbols, placed on the summit of a temple-spire, 
 shows at a glance which god is therein worshipped. 
 
 Moreover, these and other distinctive symbols are branded on 
 the breast and arms of the worshippers with a red-hot golden in¬ 
 strument. Only priests of a specially high order—the Bishops of 
 Brahmanism—are competent to impress the mystic brand. Boys 
 are thus marked at about seven years of age, and girls not till 
 after their marriage (a proviso which, however, may not augur 
 advanced years). 
 
 The successive waves of conflicting faiths that have swept over 
 Benares have destroyed every magnificent ancient temple, such as 
 still remain intact in southern India. Nowhere need you hope to 
 find any beauty of architecture that can strike home to the heart, 
 and irresistibly claim reverent homage for its sheer loveliness, as 
 in the Mohammedan buildings of Agra, still less any that can 
 compare with the grey aisles of our own glorious old cathedrals. 
 For quaintly beautiful as are many of the great mosques and temples 
 of India, especially in matters of detail, I doubt if throughout 
 the length and breadth of Hindoostan there exists one building 
 that could bear comparison with Canterbury or Westminster, even 
 were such comparison possible. 
 
 Very few of the temples now standing in Benares date farther 
 back than two or three hundred years, and of these few are indi¬ 
 vidually striking. Their main characteristic is that of grotesqueness, 
 with bewildering intricacy of detail, truly symbolising in stone 
 
THE CITY OF SIVA. 
 
 551 
 
 carving the complex mythology which has given them birth. Yet 
 though lacking in individual beauty, collectively they form groups 
 as picturesque as they are novel to the eye of a traveller. No¬ 
 where but in a Hindoo city do we see such freaks of architecture, 
 such strange fancies in stone, such clusters of domes and cupolas, 
 and odd richly-sculptured pyramidal spires, new and old, half veiled 
 by sacred trees, or reflected in holy tanks, or in the river itself. 
 
 Of the fifteen hundred temples which now exist in the city, the 
 greater number are clustered along the river bank. Some are of 
 elaborately carved stone; some are painted, some are gilded, all 
 have glittering gilt spires. Behind these rise the houses of wealthy 
 men, with overhanging balconies, and rich gardens, with stately 
 trees laden with scented blossoms. From the midst of these, peep 
 the glittering cupolas of some private oratory, for not here only, 
 but throughout the country, almost every wealthy Hindoo has his 
 own private temple, where the “ tame Levite ” of the family 
 attends to his spiritual interests. Most rich Mohammedans also 
 have their own little mosque. Along the brink of the broad river 
 are terraced ghauts, where, beneath huge grass umbrellas like 
 enormous fungi, devotees rest all day in contemplation, while 
 myriads of people come down to bathe. 
 
 The Brahmans teach that the world ever since the Creation has 
 rested on the thousand heads of the serpent Ananta (eternity) 
 and will eventually be destroyed. But the ancient city of Kasi 
 the Magnificent, now known as Benares, rests securely on the 
 three points of the trident of the terrible Siva, or, as he is generally 
 called, Mahade'o, the great god, whose especial care it is ; there¬ 
 fore it is that all who die within its walls are for ever blessed. 
 Siva himself built this wondrous city, with streets of purest gold, 
 and temples of priceless gems, and although, by reason of sin in 
 the beholder, all may seem to be but common stone, the faithful 
 Hindoo well knows that it is because his own eyes are blinded, 
 and that, could he attain to perfect purity, he would indeed see 
 this glorious city as it is. This is actually believed by multitudes 
 who come from the far ends of the lands to make the “ Panca 
 kosi or five miles’ pilgrimage round the city; a sunwise turn, 
 
552 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 which may nowhere exceed a distance of five miles from the centre 
 of the city, whose atmosphere of sanctity so pervades this charmed 
 circle, that whoever dies within it, is transported straightway to 
 Siva’s heaven. 
 
 The protection of Siva is no mere fiction. There have indeed 
 been times when, to punish the sins of the people, he has 
 suffered their enemies to desolate his own sacred city; neverthe¬ 
 less in many ways his favour is apparent. All natural powers 
 are propitious to the Holy City. From remotest ages, no earth¬ 
 quake has ever been known within the sacred circuit of five 
 miles, though the country around has been devastated. This of 
 itself would be proof positive, were such required, of its isolation 
 from the rest of the earth. Though innumerable crocodiles bask 
 on the sandbanks, or lurk in the reedy shallows, not one has ever 
 been known to hurt any of the myriad bathers, however rashly 
 they might plunge into the stream . 1 Hurricanes and tempests have 
 
 1 It seems, however, that once at least Siva proved himself a careless 
 guardian of the city. Perhaps he was asleep when that savage tiger stole into 
 the city, and wounded a dozen of his worshippers. Here is the story, as 
 related by the Indian papers :— 
 
 Tiger Hunt in the Streets of Benares. —On Monday, December 
 18th, 1871, Mr. M'Mullin, assistant superintendent of police at Benares, was 
 surprised at being told that some wild beast during the night had seriously 
 wounded several people in the city. He was further told that the animal was 
 then sitting in a dark recess on the top of some steps. Going to the spot, he 
 could plainly see two eyes glaring in the darkness. Taking a musket from one 
 of the police, he fired, when, with a fearful roar, a huge tiger bounded from 
 the recess and rushed down the steps. Fortunately, Mr. M'Mullin had hit him 
 in the fore-arm, and the tiger fell into a hole. A policeman then fired at him, 
 but missed, and the tiger, recovering himself, sprang on the policeman, mauling 
 him severely. A large crowd was now gathered round, and a scene of the 
 utmost confusion ensued. The tiger bounded furiously about, wounding people 
 on all sides. Files of policemen now marched up with loaded muskets, but, 
 unfortunately, the police were not provided with caps, and had to beat a 
 retreat. Mr. M ‘Mullin rode off to cantonments to obtain assistance; he 
 returned with some officers, and the tiger was brought to bay in a place in¬ 
 closed with walls near the Raj Mandil. A well-directed volley from a number 
 of guns at length laid low the noble animal, who was game to the last. Alto¬ 
 gether he had wounded twelve people, one of whom is not expected to recover. 
 No one can tell where the tiger came from, but it seems probable that he had 
 
RAJAH SIR DEO NARAIEN SINGH. 
 
 553 
 
 devastated other spots, while calm and peace enfolded the loved 
 abode of the gods. Here, too, the rains invariably fall moderately, 
 while the neighbouring districts are either deluged or parched 
 with long drought. 
 
 This question of “ the rains ” and the consequent rise and fall 
 of all Indian rivers, is a matter of very great moment to towns 
 or villages situated, as is Benares, on the very brink of the flood. 
 For the rise of one year gives the very smallest possible clue to 
 what that of the next may be. It depends of course on the in¬ 
 tensity of the summer rains. These begin in the mountains about 
 the end of May; thus the inundations by the rivers begin fully a 
 month before the rains set in on the plains. By the end of July 
 the lower flats of Bengal are flooded in all directions, and con¬ 
 tinue till the end of August to present the appearance of large 
 lakes, sometimes extending over many miles, and dotted with 
 villages like islands. Early in September the waters gradually 
 begin to subside, the sun’s scorching rays making evaporation 
 rapid, and leaving a thick deposit of rich soil. Throughout the 
 winter months the rainfall is nil, so that the rivers shrink into 
 mere streams : their size is thus as varied as their course, which is 
 remarkably vague. 
 
 Our thorough enjoyment of our visit to Benares was greatly 
 due to the kindness of Rajah Sir Deo Naraien Singh, one of 
 the kindest and most courteous gentlemen I have ever had 
 the pleasure of meeting. There was something about him that 
 always reminded me of a courtly Prelate, in fact his benevolent 
 countenance greatly resembled that of Pio Nono. It was with 
 very great sorrow that shortly after our return to England we 
 received letters from his son announcing the sudden death of 
 the kind old man. He had received his well-earned knighthood, 
 and the Star of India, for very great service done to the English 
 during the Mutiny, where, to his good influence both with the 
 
 come from the Maharajah’s preserves at Chuckea, crossing the Ganges at Raj 
 Ghaut by the bridge of boats during the night. The natives are in a state of 
 great excitement, there being a tradition that when tigers eat people in the 
 streets of Benares, then the day of tribulation will have come.— Pioneer. 
 
554 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Maharajah and all the people, it was due, that in this hotbed of 
 fanaticism, there was no outbreak whatsoever. Yet at that time 
 there were in the whole Province of Benares only twenty-five 
 artillerymen and sixty invalids to represent European soldiers, 
 all the other troops being native regiments ; while the population 
 of the district is three times that of all Scotland. Amongst 
 many other steps taken to secure peace, and to inspire con¬ 
 fidence, Sir Deo quitted his own palace, and actually lived 
 with the English Resident during the worst time of trouble and 
 anxiety. 
 
 Throughout his long and useful life Sir Deo had always shown 
 the same unvarying kindness to all English ; and a letter recom¬ 
 mending us to his care, called forth such genuine and cordial 
 hospitality as is not often accorded even to old friends. For so 
 long as we chose to remain in Benares, an English open carriage 
 was placed at our disposal, with two, sometimes three, relays of 
 excellent horses. A large houseboat on the river, fully manned, 
 was always at our service from dawn till night. Also an elephant 
 and tonjauns (portable armchairs) should we go into the city. 
 Two of his own confidential servants had orders always to be in 
 attendance to make every possible arrangement for our comfort, 
 and to show us everything; and very needful we found their 
 presence, for the priests and riotous beggars proved a very 
 different lot to our peaceful friends at Hardwar. 
 
 Our first impression of Benares was literally of Pandemonium 
 let loose. Some great feast was going on, and heathendom was 
 in triumphant riot. Houses and temples were hung with gay 
 stuffs, and in the streets a surging sea of human life swayed to 
 and fro, with shouts and screams and hubbub, such as only an 
 eastern crowd can produce. They pressed on from one shrine to 
 another with deafening shouts, blowing horns and conches, and 
 ringing bells, and reiterating the praises of their gods; some in 
 holiday garb, others travel-stained, having assembled from all 
 quarters of the empire. Every tribe and every trade were there 
 present, with the distinctive marks of their kingdom and their 
 profession. 
 
doorga’s sacred monkeys. 
 
 555 
 
 Under the safe escort of the Rajah’s servants, we too visited 
 shrines and temples without number, thereby accumulating untold 
 merit! and only wishing we had each fifty pairs of eyes to feast on 
 the ever-varying and most picturesque throngs of human beings, 
 and the fantastic grouping of grotesque architecture, all seen in 
 intense light and shadow, with a vivid blue sky over all. Where 
 the streets were broad we drove; where they narrowed we 
 mounted the elephant. Where he could not pass, we got into 
 the iotijauns, and where they fairly stuck we got out and walked, 
 changing backwards and forwards incessantly, at the bidding of 
 the Rajah’s trusty servants. One advantage of the elephant was 
 that it raised us to the level of the upper windows, and so from 
 time to time we fancied that we caught glimpses of bright eyes 
 and jewelled dames peeping out from within their curtained 
 windows. 
 
 First we drove rapidly to the Doorga Khoond, or Mirror of 
 Doorga, the chief temple of that amiable goddess—the guardian 
 angel of the city. I have already told you what a bloodthirsty 
 fiend she is, and how her temples always reek with blood of 
 goats and buffaloes which are sacrificed at her altars. Of course 
 a bullock must in no case be put to death, therefore the buffalo 
 is a convenient substitute. Before her shrine, which is always 
 heaped up with golden marigolds and other flowers, stands a 
 stone obelisk surmounted by a dragon. At the foot of this lies 
 a huge sacrificial sword, wherewith are slain victims innumerable 
 to appease the rage of the insatiable goddess. She is generally 
 supposed to come and eat their bodies, but it is whispered that 
 the city butchers come by night to buy them from the priests, 
 and then retail them to the vulgar public. So it may chance 
 that the European population eat their full share of things 
 offered to idols ! 
 
 This temple of Doorga is very fine, being of elaborately carved 
 red sandstone. Round the great tank (her mirror) are some old 
 trees, which are literally alive with monkeys. This one temple 
 supports five hundred of these ludicrous creatures. An old priest 
 called them down for our amusement, when they scampered 
 
556 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 up to us in a perfect mob, and the attendant satellites of the 
 temple showered grain among them, for which they all, from 
 the hoary grandfather to the infant in arms, scrambled in most 
 undignified style. Then, swinging themselves up by post and 
 pillar, they perched on every carved nook of the temple, 
 swarming to the topmost peak or swinging themselves up the 
 tall trees. 
 
 We then went on from one temple to another, sometimes 
 passing down streets so narrow that we could well-nigh touch 
 both sides at once ; between tall houses, like those in the old 
 town of Edinburgh, six or seven storeys or more, with projecting 
 windows, and balconies actually meeting overhead, so that the 
 narrow street seemed arched with flying bridges, and just showing 
 narrow peeps of bright blue sky. Houses with carved pillars; 
 sometimes with projecting verandahs of rich brown wood, casting 
 dark shadows, and sculptures of mythology on the walls. Most 
 of these open into small courts, whence low doors lead into dark 
 cool rooms. These low rooms are favourite quarters in the day¬ 
 time, as they lie in cool, deep shadow, while the top storeys catch 
 all the hot sun. But at night these have the benefit of the clear, 
 cold starlight, while the street below is comparatively hot and 
 stuffy. 
 
 Among the most magnificent, though by no means most fre¬ 
 quented temples here, are those of Ganesa, alias Ganapatu, the 
 subtle god of wisdom and good luck. He is the son of Siva, and 
 is always represented as a fat Brahman, wearing the mystic thread. 
 He sits cross-legged, and has many arms. He has, moreover, 
 the head and trunk of an elephant, that wise beast whose sagacity 
 afforded a ready type of wisdom. The story, however, told 
 concerning him is that he was originally born with a human head, 
 but having lost his own in a fight, his mother vowed to supply 
 him with the head of the first living creature she met. This 
 proved to be an elephant, and her son happily inherited the 
 wisdom of the elephantine brain. In some of his temples each 
 pillar represents the leg of an elephant, while the capitals are 
 monstrous elephantine heads. 
 
MULTITUDE OF BRAHMANS. 
 
 557 
 
 He is escorted by a rat—the type of sagacity; and owns two 
 wives, who are the goddesses of prosperity and success. He is 
 one of the popular gods whose shrine is found in every village, and 
 who is worshipped by every schoolboy, for he is the patron of 
 literature, and famed for good writing, so his sign must be inscribed 
 at the top of every page. 
 
 Formerly a multitude of female infants were sacrificed to Ganesa; 
 not a bad speculation, as daughters were expensive to dower, and 
 the pious offering received its due reward, as the tiny life thus 
 consecrated was sure to be eventually returned in the birth of a 
 son, a far more acceptable article. These sacrifices in the temples 
 were very horrible scenes, and moreover very expensive to the 
 parents, as the priests claimed heavy fees for butchering the poor 
 babies ; consequently the majority of people found it cheaper, 
 and quite as efficacious, to dip the little innocents into cauldrons 
 of boiling milk ! 
 
 We passed on and on, through streets and through bazaars, past 
 shops for the sale of all eastern goods : vessels of brass, sweet¬ 
 meats, raiment, toys innumerable; fruit merchants selling cocoa- 
 nuts, guavas, plantains, pomegranates, pumeloes or shaddocks, 
 loquats, limes, custard-apples, pine-apples, bringals (which are a 
 common vegetable shaped like an egg)—all manner of good things ; 
 and here and there stalked some tall adjutant, or a great, white, 
 Brahmanee kite, seeking what it might devour, without the smallest 
 regard for the ever-moving, noisy throng, which passed before the 
 eye in a confused jumble of bright colours and glittering jewels, 
 and clear brown skins of divers shades. 
 
 What chiefly impressed us was the multitude of white-robed 
 priests, and in truth they muster strong in this city, where no less 
 than 25,000 Brahmans rule as absolute lords temporal and eccle¬ 
 siastical, holding the 200,000 residents,' and the innumerable 
 pilgrims in most rigid bondage. As an evidence of their wealth 
 we were told that the Brahmans alone own 8,000 horses ; never¬ 
 theless begging holds a conspicuous place among their religious 
 duties, and this, at least, is one which they fulfil con amove. Not 
 only the Brahmans, but all the Yogies and Sannyasis and other 
 
553 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 varieties of holy people, and the vast swarm of idlers who always 
 haunt every temple, beg lustily, as though demanding a right, and 
 make the life of all visitors a burden to them. It required all the 
 influence of the Rajah’s trusty servants to steer us safely through 
 the haunts of these rapacious harpies. As to the Hindoos, they 
 consider it an inestimable privilege to be allowed to contribute to 
 the necessities of these saints. They, in their turn, are charitable 
 enough: and are said to administer the funds of the temples with 
 wisdom, these being generally endowed by wealthy Hindoos for 
 the relief of weary, wayworn wanderers, when, as is too often the 
 case, sickness and misery overwhelm them. 
 
 In several temples we saw carved marble bulls, like those at 
 Hardwar, and multitudes of the real animals walking quietly about 
 the street, among all the people, beautiful white creatures, adorned 
 with garlands of flowers, and having the trident of Siva stamped 
 on their hind-quarters. They went calmly about the bazaar, eating 
 whatever they fancied, for none dare contradict them ; so one 
 moment their noses were in some merchant’s cherished sacks of 
 grain, the next they would begin snuffing the garland of some 
 white-robed worshipper, who would straightway take it off and 
 present it to this living representative of his god ! Thus the sacred 
 robbers exact what blackmail they please, while the luckless owners 
 look on in reverential awe. The Brahmanee bull is generally rather 
 small, with the hump between the shoulders strongly developed. 
 
 We went into one large temple where the open court was full of 
 brilliant peacocks, sacred to Skanda, one of Siva’s sons, while the 
 side aisles, if I may so call them, were divided into stalls for 
 sacred cows, the representatives of the earth-goddess. In the 
 mythology of Scandinavia the chariot of the same beneficent earth- 
 mother is drawn by cows. In the centre of the court was an image 
 of Doorga, literally buried beneath the fresh, beautiful flowers that 
 had been heaped upon it. I could not, however, venture on a 
 very close inspection, as I had left the rest of the party in the 
 “ecclesiastical bazaar,” and nothing would induce my Moham¬ 
 medan bodyguard to cross the threshold of this idolatrous 
 temple. 
 
AN ECCLESIASTICAL BAZAAR, 
 
 559 
 
 So I very quickly rejoined the others, in a bazaar whose contents 
 were wholly brazen vessels for the use of the temples. These 
 stalls were most tempting curiosity shops. Apart from every 
 
 A STREET IN BENARES. 
 
 species of idol, great and small, in which we were not anxious 
 to invest, there were such endless varieties of beautifully engraven 
 brass lotas, or pots, brass plates inlaid with other metals or of some 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 560 
 
 silvery material, curious incense-burners, such as quaint figures 
 supporting lamps, odd spoons, silvery boxes for betel-nuts—in 
 short, all kinds of delightful curiosities, such as old Indians never 
 think it worth while to bring home, but which are really far more 
 characteristic than the far more costly orthodox Indian treasures 
 which are so familiar to us all. 
 
 To see the brassworkers’ quarter was especially fascinating. It 
 was so strange to see such engraving—wondrously intricate and 
 artistic patterns, with only a hammer and an old nail as their 
 stock of engraving implements. The admirable results produced 
 by these wretched appliances was a practical commentary on 
 those bad workmen who quarrel with their tools! 
 
 The tables of the money-changers are an interesting feature of 
 the approach to an eastern temple—the heaps of gold and silver 
 coins and piles of shell-money, i.e. the white cowrie-shells, which 
 children compare to chicken with white sauce, but in which 
 orientals, both Egyptians and Hindoos, recognise an effectual 
 charm against the evil eye, and which here passes current for some 
 incredibly small sum of money. Sweetmeat stalls also abound, 
 and some of their dainties are rather tempting. These “ tables of 
 the money-changers,” and the presence of the white oxen, the 
 flocks of tame pigeons, and the goats prepared for sacrifice, to¬ 
 gether with all the brightly-polished brazen vessels for temple use, 
 might well have recalled a scene in another Temple, when the 
 changers of money, and those who sold oxen and sheep and 
 doves, were driven out by the Master. But there was an incon¬ 
 gruity and lack of dignity in all this ecclesiastical fair which 
 rather happily prevented the suggestion of any such comparison. 
 
 This bazaar is in the outer court of the Great Golden Temple, 
 which the natives prize above all others. One dome, and all the 
 pinnacles, are gilt, and glitter in the sun. There is a large group 
 of domes and pyramids; some red, some grey, and overshadowed 
 by sacred peepul trees. The streets and bazaars come so close 
 round it, that it is difficult to get a good,—at least a sketchable,— 
 view of it. My brown guardian-angel took me to an upper 
 balcony of a house opposite, whence we could look into the court 
 
LEAPING THROUGH THE FLAMES. 
 
 561 
 
 of the temple, and down on the throng of worshippers, mostly 
 clad in white, and adorned with huge necklaces of great African 
 marigolds. The balcony was full of men playing on every species 
 of discordant brass instruments and shells, and we were nearly 
 deafened, both by them, and by the insatiable and clamorous 
 crowd of priests and beggars. This certainly was the vilest nest 
 of orthodox Hindooism we had ever seen, and went far to efface 
 the memory of its calmer aspect in peaceful Hard war, beside the 
 pure river. Here, everything seemed as foul as the sullied waters. 
 
 Beneath the Golden Dome we saw sacrificial fires burning, and 
 devotees leaping through the flames in honour of Maha-devah, the 
 great god. This was formerly a common custom throughout the 
 country, just as it was on midsummer night’s eve and Hallowe’en 
 in Britain, and wherever else Baal-worship has prevailed. Here 
 it has long been discouraged by the Government; nevertheless 
 the rite is still greatly in favour in parts of Southern India, e.g. in 
 North Arcot, where so many deaths have recently resulted from 
 the practice, that it became a question whether a positive prohibi¬ 
 tion might not be necessary. This, however, has .been deemed an 
 undesirable interference. 
 
 Many such practices have, however, been happily checked, such 
 as the Churuk Poojah, or Swing Worship, which is now illegal, 
 though still occasionally practised. We chanced to see it once, 
 and a very disgusting exhibition it was, the wretched devotee 
 inducing the Brahmans to pass great iron hooks through the 
 muscles below the shoulder. He was then somehow slung from 
 one end of a bamboo, balanced on a tall pole, and swung 
 violently in a circlb in mid-air. The whole weight seemed sus¬ 
 tained by those muscles. This agonising torture was supposed 
 to be so pleasing to the cruel goddess Kali that her votaries 
 used constantly to undergo it, and a very few years ago there were 
 still hundreds of these swinging-posts always at work in Bengal. 
 There were scores in the immediate neighbourhood of Calcutta, 
 some even in its streets. I think that in their secret hearts the 
 people must bless the foreign rule, which takes on itself the 
 responsibility of prohibiting such horrors. 
 
 O O 
 
562 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 The priests point to the great Golden Dome, and tell you it is 
 overlaid with thick plates of pure gold, which were an offering 
 from Runjeet Singh to the great god Bisewara (Siva). The gold, 
 however, has long since been removed, and common gilding is all 
 that now glitters in the sun, and the great golden chain by which 
 the lamp was once suspended above the altar is now replaced by 
 one of commonest brass. Nevertheless, worshippers assemble in 
 vast crowds to throng these courts, more especially at the time of 
 any eclipse of the sun or moon, when the altars are more than 
 ever loaded with flowers and sweetmeats. For Bisewara loves 
 these, and shows a just appreciation of sugar-plums, betel, and 
 such like. Day by day he is duly washed with water from the 
 holy Ganges, and dressed with all solemnity, and at night he 
 is laid away, safely wrapped up in his summer or winter raiment 
 as the case may be — either a light shawl or a rich warm brocade. 
 
 His worshippers, mindful of his tendency to slumber, never fail 
 to preface their prayer by ringing the bell above his shrine to 
 arouse his attention ! 
 
 Hard by is the temple of his one wife, Annapurna, variously 
 named Parvati, Kali, and Doorga, a veiled goddess, whose face 
 was not displayed to us heretics. True believers declare her to be 
 of marble, with a variety of masks and faces of gold and silver 
 changeable at pleasure, which perhaps accounts for Siva being con¬ 
 tent to have but one fair minister, instead of the Eastern allowance ! 
 
 A beautiful marble well, with canopy of rich carving, is espe¬ 
 cially sacred to her, and here devout offerings are thrown, of all 
 manner of food, of which it is supposed she eats what she requires, 
 and gives the remainder to the poor, so everything is thrown in 
 quite promiscuously—milk, flour, cakes, fruit, flowers — and the 
 result is, as you may suppose, a horrible mass of putrescence, 
 sickening to approach, and one which loads the air with the seeds 
 of pestilence. Our Mohammedan friend looked on with an 
 expression of unutterable loathing, and exclaimed, “ Well! I am 
 thankful my Allah does not eat and drink! ” A small boy 
 pressed forward to give us information, in excellent English. 
 “ That,” he said, “ is the well into which god jumped !” 
 
A FILTHY SACRED DRINK. 
 
 563 
 
 The legend to which he referred is to the effect that when the 
 Mohammedan emperor Aurungzebe destroyed the temple of Siva 
 to build his own grand mosque on its site, the image of Siva took 
 refuge of its own accord at the bottom of this deep well. There¬ 
 fore do the endless throng of pilgrims come ceaselessly to cast 
 in their offerings. From the invisible depths the attendant priests 
 draw up lotas full of foully unfragrant fluid—I cannot call it 
 water—and bestow it on the pilgrims, who therewith anoint their 
 bodies, even drinking some of the holy liquid. 
 
 This is one of the curious points in Hindoo notions regarding 
 cleanliness, as distinct from ceremonial purity. To drink the 
 most sparkling water which had been drawn in a leathern bucket, 
 or on which the shadow of a low caste man had rested, would 
 involve defilement; but no matter how foul is the water drawn in 
 a correct manner from a sacred source, that is a desirable draught. 
 Therefore the dirty water, in which the images of Krishna have 
 been washed at their daily dressing, is drunk as cleansing holy 
 water. So too in one of the Vishnuvite sects (the Vallabha) whose 
 high priests receive actual worship in the temple ; the people 
 prostrate themselves before them, and devoutly offer flowers and 
 incense, eagerly drinking the filthy water in which the clothes and 
 feet of these spiritual chiefs have been washed ! ! 
 
 Still we went on and on, through wide streets and narrow 
 streets, among big gods and little gods, meeting at every glance 
 some image or symbol to remind us that in truth this is a city 
 “ wholly given to idolatry.” Wherever we turned there was the 
 same noisy throng of worshippers, the same insatiable and 
 clamorous crowd of priests and beggars, all covered with garlands * 
 of flowers, all howling for backsheesh, and many playing on 
 horrible musical instruments. 
 
 It was with unspeakable relief that we at length found our¬ 
 selves at the entrance to Aurungzebe’s Grand Mosque, with its 
 tall minarets cleaving the sapphire sky, like fingers pointing 
 heavenward. Slim fingers indeed, for while their height is about 
 147 feet, their diameter at the base is only eight and a half feet 
 decreasing to seven and a half at the summit. It was Friday, and 
 
 0 0 2 
 
564 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 the hour of prayer, and the great court was full of solemn, silent 
 worshippers. Everything about both mosque and people was of 
 dazzling cleanliness, the brilliant sunlight showed no stain on 
 white robes or snowy turbans, as every man knelt on his own 
 square of the marble pavement. Everything was hushed and still, 
 and the broad blue sky formed a meet canopy for so noble a 
 temple. It was a very solemn and impressive scene, all the more 
 so in contrast with the wild devil-worship that was going on in all 
 the rest of the city. 
 
 ■We felt deep sympathy with Aurungzebe, though we could not 
 wonder at the hatred with which the Hindoos behold this stately 
 building, which to them must be a perpetual eyesore, overtopping 
 all else in the city of their many gods, so that from its lofty minarets, 
 his hated soldiers were wont to look down on the Hindoo bathers, 
 to their intense annoyance. These minarets are found to have a 
 very distressing fascination for men who are “ weary of life and 
 light,” amongst them we were told of one gambler who during the 
 “ Feast of Lanterns ” had lost all his money, and finally staked and 
 lost his wife. This last straw was the finishing touch which decided 
 the wretched man’s fate. 
 
 We ascended to the top of one of the minarets, whence we 
 commanded a magnificent view of the city, the river, all the 
 temples, and the surrounding country. But above all, our eyes 
 were riveted by a heap of nondescript ruins, lying about three miles 
 north of Benares, for there we knew lay all that remained of the 
 once mighty city, Sarnath, a city which was to the Buddhists all 
 that Benares is to the Brahmans, for here it was that Buddha firs.t- 
 publicly preached the newly discovered “Way of Life,” and how 
 all men might enter “ The Gates of Righteousness.” 
 
 Here, in the days of its glory, were thirty great monasteries, 
 inhabited by three thousand monks. There were also eight 
 “ Divine Towers,” one of which is stated to have been three 
 hundred feet high, and adorned with most precious jewels. 
 Amongst the innumerable statues of Buddha which adorned the 
 city at every turn was one great copper image, representing him.as 
 the teacher, in the act of turning the wheel of the law. In this 
 
ANCIENT BUDDHIST CITY OF SARNATII. 
 
 565 
 
 city Buddha was worshipped for upwards of a thousand years, 
 after the Brahmans had driven his followers out of Benares. So 
 the two great strongholds of the rival faiths flourished for many 
 centuries within sight one of another. 
 
 At length the Brahmans seem to have been goaded out of all 
 their usual theories of toleration, and falling suddenly on their 
 unsuspecting neighbours, sacked and burned the monasteries, 
 overthrew the colleges, and reduced the city to ashes, while such 
 of the terror-stricken inhabitants as escaped the sword fled for 
 their lives. So sudden was their flight, that they left their bread 
 half-baked in their little mud ovens, and there it was found in 
 very recent years, buried beneath the general pile of ruins that 
 the fire had in some measure spared. Amongst these were 
 numerous statues of Buddha and other images, and elaborately 
 carved stones, but so little value was set on these precious relics 
 of antiquity that they were carted away wholesale, and cast into 
 the river Barana to serve as a breakwater to protect the piers of 
 the bridge ! 
 
 The multitude of carved stones of unmistakably Buddhist 
 origin, which are built into so many Brahman houses at Benares, 
 tell their own tale. There are capitals carved with lotus-leaves, 
 shafts of pillars, and more especially broken umbrellas of stone, 
 just like great mushrooms, which were once the most sacred 
 symbol of Buddha’s sovereignty. The great round tower, the 
 ruins of which are so conspicuous even as seen from our post on 
 the minaret, was one hundred and ten feet in height, and ninety- 
 three feet in diameter, its top being of ancient brickwork. This, 
 until a very few years ago, was cased with finest stonework, all 
 carved with lotus leaves and blossoms, with figures seated therein, 
 contemplative Buddhas floating on still waters. Now the carved 
 stones have been removed, and there remains little more than an 
 unsightly heap of rubble. 
 
 Descending from our high post of observation, our next halt was 
 at a private house belonging to Maun Singh, where a great terrace 
 of stonework acts the part of an astronomical observatory, or 
 Man Mandil as it is called —Alan meaning measurement, and 
 
566 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Mandil the globe. On the terrace are built all manner of huge 
 sun-dials and other astronomical instruments, of solid masonry; 
 contrivances for finding out the declinations of stars, the meridi¬ 
 onal line, and other things, also an enormous gnomon, globe, and 
 huge stone buildings like giants’ playthings, just like those we 
 saw in the great ruins of the observatory at Delhi. All these 
 things were elaborately explained to us by a very scientific old 
 Hindoo, who, in the abstruseness of his calculations, had quite 
 forgotten his raiment ! 
 
 This old man is a very important person in Benares, as is the 
 astronomer or astrologer in every community of Brahmans,- for no 
 Hindoo will do anything important without consulting the stars, 
 and a regular astrological almanac is published for the convenience 
 of such as cannot conveniently go in person to the astrologer, a 
 process which is at once simpler and more economical. There 
 were formerly some great instruments of brass belonging to this 
 observatory, but these were removed, and are still preserved by 
 the Hindoo Princes of Rajpootana. 
 
 Once more we plunged into the mazes of the city, into the noisy 
 thronged streets, with their quaint architecture, their intense 
 lights and shadows, their brilliantly coloured figures sprinkled here 
 and there, amid a crowd of which the vast majority were clad and 
 turbaned in dazzling light, and garlanded with flowers, while 
 all the small boys, too young to wear the turban, were adorned 
 with brilliant skull-caps of silk, embroidered with gold and silver. 
 
 Now we turn aside into a small dark shop. Thence we were 
 led along dark, winding passages, till we reached a small upper 
 room, where, at the bidding of our guide, one roll after another 
 of priceless kincob was spread before our admiring gaze. Kincob 
 is that marvellous silk and gold brocade for which the looms of 
 Benares are so justly celebrated. Brocades of every brilliant hue, 
 wrought with richest patterns of gold and silver, the most gorgeous 
 materials you can imagine. What their price per yard was, we 
 hardly paused to inquire, so obviously were they far beyond our 
 reach. Not that we coveted them particularly, even as hangings, 
 and no one but a Begum, or a Ranee, or their spouses, could wear 
 
IDOLS FROM BIRMINGHAM ! 
 
 567 
 
 such stuffs. Their own rich colouring harmonises all this splen¬ 
 dour, so that dress and wearer are all in keeping, but the fair skin 
 is overpowered by it. And nowhere is the perfect Oriental taste 
 in colouring shown more strikingly than in this exquisite manu¬ 
 facture. The one standing miracle is how these natives, who can 
 devise and execute such designs—so perfectly becoming to them¬ 
 selves—can ever be guilty of showing a corner of toleration for our 
 hideous, western garb, and even occasionally of adopting it, or part 
 of it, for their own use. 
 
 When at length we returned to rest, after the bewildering sights 
 of the day, we found a fresh deputation of servants from the dear 
 old Rajah, bearing trays of the most delicious sweetmeats, and 
 fruits of all sorts. Various tradesmen soon scented us out, and 
 brought us huge baskets of Benares toys, all carved in coloured 
 wood, highly polished ; boxes of every sort, with dozens of lesser 
 ones fitting into one another, and all sorts of ingenious playthings. 
 We invested in a great number, and still further increased our 
 store of brass curiosities, though one man grinned from ear to ear 
 when I remarked that we only wanted genuine Benares work, and 
 that he need not take the trouble to show us Birmingham goods. 
 I strongly suspect that every little idol in his basket was pure 
 “ Brummagem,” and not without good reason, for it is currently 
 reported that Birmingham exports an immensely large proportion 
 of the idols of Hindoostan, and finds them a very profitable 
 speculation !! 
 
 One might have supposed that Benares was competent to supply 
 its own idol market, so numerous are the cunning workers in divers 
 materials, who devote their skill to this manufacture. The potters 
 mould images of clay for daily worship, these are always thrown 
 into the river, so must be renewed daily. Sculptors produce more 
 lasting idols of stone or marble, the carpenters make great wooden 
 idols for the temples, while the workers in metal, goldsmiths, 
 coppersmiths and brassworkers, find a ceaseless demand for their 
 respective productions. Special value attaches to golden images 
 of certain gods and goddesses, while for others, copper or brass or 
 an amalgam of mercury and tin is preferred. Shitala, the goddess 
 
568 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 of small-pox, is always represented in silver, but the most sacred 
 of all materials for the manufacture of gods is a perfect alloy pro¬ 
 duced by mixing eight metals — namely, gold, silver, brass, lead, 
 iron, tin, mercury, and copper. I need scarcely say that as objects 
 of art, the rudest of these hand-wrought productions, are far more 
 interesting than the most highly finished factory work. 
 
 All that night a never-ceasing whirl of native carriages jingled 
 past our door, chiefly little ekkas, those picturesque one-horse 
 vehicles, with hoods supported by four posts, the funniest little 
 machines, utterly unlike anything in Europe. They were all 
 crammed with natives, men and women, in their very brightest 
 apparel, and all chattering and laughing. It was a clear moon¬ 
 light, and we would fain have followed them, for they were bound 
 for a great native festival, when part of the town would be 
 illuminated, and would doubtless have been most picturesque. 
 But our watch-dogs, the Rajah’s servants, were greatly scandalised 
 by the proposition, as they vowed the fair was by no means 
 respectable, and I have no doubt they were quite right, as we 
 learnt subsequently, that the principal feature of the festival 
 consisted in the free use of shfab and bhang and other intoxicating 
 liquors, of which libations were poured over certain idols, in 
 whose honour the night was spent in wildly licentious revelry. 
 This is a festival only observed by certain sects. 
 
 But a real illumination at Benares would be a sight worth 
 travelling far to see, when every line of the tall pyramidal temples 
 is marked by myriads of small oil lamps—when fire-balloons float 
 upward to the dark blue heaven, and down the silent stream float 
 star-like points of glittering light produced by lighted wicks floating 
 in little earthenware saucers full of oil, and many coloured fires 
 shed wondrous effects of gorgeous crimson, blue or green glow, 
 on the temples and the dense crowds of dark figures. 
 
 Our chief enjoyment of Benares certainly lay on the river, 
 where we spent five long, and most pleasant days, from dawn till 
 sunset. Each morning the Rajah’s carriage was at our door 
 between five and six o’clock, and a four miles’ drive through 
 palmy groves brought us to the brink of the river just ere the 
 
5 <59 
 
 A WONDERFUL CITY. 
 
 sun’s first ray touched the city. The house-boat was always in 
 readiness, and then we slowly rowed up the broad stream for 
 several miles, past the marvellous piles of temples, wonderful 
 bathing ghauts, palaces, and buildings of every sort, which rise 
 mass upon mass — tier above tier, from the water’s edge, right up 
 to the broad blue sky. 
 
 Every morning we came with fresh delight, each day revealing 
 some new, curious detail that had hitherto escaped our notice. 
 Some new spire of the thousand temples, some quaint, religious 
 ceremony hitherto unnoticed; some new combination in the ever- 
 changing groups of temples, pinnacles, balconies, overhanging 
 windows in indescribable variety; green trees telling of shady 
 gardens; pigeon roosts,—always a conspicuous feature in Hindoo 
 cities ; steep flights of stairs reaching up to the blue heaven; 
 broad landing-places of solid stone, never two alike, but all showing 
 endless variety of detail. 
 
 Along the water’s edge are groups of huge umbrellas, thatched 
 with grass matting and resembling great mushroom-beds, beneath 
 whose shade squat imps that would astonish Puck himself. Others, 
 also of matting, are covered with scarlet calico, and add one 
 more touch of colour to the gay scene. There are bathers and 
 worshippers without number—thousands on thousands—washing, 
 sprinkling holy water, reading sacred books, clamouring for 
 backsheesh, all in endless confusion; everywhere there is light, 
 colour, motion. The blue of heaven is reflected even by the 
 river, now alas, little better than a filthy sewer of many great 
 cities, and the blue overhead and the blue below are blended by 
 an incessant film of bright blue smoke, for ever rising from the 
 burning ghaut, and from the bodies of those happy dead who 
 have breathed their last in this city beloved by the gods, and 
 whose ashes will soon be sprinkled on the sacred river. 
 
 The great mass of the people come to bathe at sunrise, when 
 the ghauts are indeed a scene of wondrous animation. As usual, 
 men and women all bathe together as a matter of course, and think 
 no evil thereof; and the daintiest dames (who at other hours of 
 the day veil even their eyes from the chance glance of a stranger, 
 
5/0 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 and are carried to the river’s edge in closely curtained tonjauns, 
 wherein, after their bath, they will again take refuge from the eyes 
 of the vulgar), now stand revealed in the very airiest of drapery, 
 probably only a sheet of the finest muslin—without the slightest 
 hesitation. It is the custom of the land, and no one thinks it 
 strange. So, at every few yards you perceive beautiful groups in 
 bronze of most graceful bathing nymphs, such as would rejoice 
 the heart of a sculptor, and indeed these beautiful bronzes never 
 strike you otherwise than as statuary, and that, of a very high 
 class, so that the faintest idea of immodesty or indelicacy never 
 for a moment suggests itself. 
 
 All day long the washing of human beings, dead or alive, and 
 of their clothes and their vessels, goes on unceasingly. One 
 constant succession of new comers pour down to the river to 
 bathe and to pray before eating : afterwards they take water in 
 the palms of their hands, and hold it up to the Sun as an offering, 
 or else filling a brass lota with Ganges water, they pour it out 
 before him while they stand praying. Then falling prostrate, with 
 their forehead in the dust, they worship in silence. Next, with 
 infinite relish, they drink a draught of the sacred water, while the 
 men all round are diligently polishing their teeth in the most 
 approved style, standing knee deep in the river ! They then fill 
 their vessels with the same filthy water, which they carefully seal 
 up, and carry home for all household purposes, while Yogis in like 
 manner, start on pilgrimage to distant parts of India to sell the 
 sacred fluid to the faithful for immense sums, so that the idols in 
 the most remote districts may not lack this precious anointing. 
 
 Nor is it the idols only for whose service this holy water is re¬ 
 quired, for, as I mentioned at Hardwar, in Indian Courts of Justice 
 it holds the place of the Bible, for a Hindoo knows of no oath so 
 solemn as that which is sworn by the water of the Ganges, on 
 which has been laid a branch of the sacred tulasi-shrub. 1 
 
 On one ghaut we saw a huge gaudily-painted image of Bhim 
 Singh, a noted giant. It was made of Ganges mud and would 
 soon return to its pristine condition ; meanwhile it lay like a 
 
 1 The basil. 
 
THE IDOL OF AN HOUR. 
 
 571 
 
 modern Gulliver among his Lilliputian worshippers. Beside it 
 stood a little group, like a nest of ants. One was a European, 
 and beside him a native, evidently a convert, preaching, but 
 collecting a mere handful of listeners, who rarely paused for two 
 moments consecutively. Various other idols, similarly fashioned 
 of Ganges mud, adorn the neighbouring steps: and often we saw 
 a devout worshipper fashioning a little god for himself, of mud or 
 of cow-dung. To this he prayed most earnestly; then, when 
 his prayer was done, he chucked it into the river, as being of no 
 further use. Rather suggestive of the fate of a good many human 
 idols, among worshippers of the ideal! But if you ask any 
 educated Hindoo whether that mud image is indeed his god, he 
 will answer that he worships an invisible Spirit, without reference 
 to any created matter, but the use of this outward symbol is a 
 help to concentrate his thought, which else would wander over the 
 vast heaven. 
 
 Every morning we slowly rowed up the stream, keeping close 
 in shore, so as to have full benefit of all the picturesque life at 
 the ghauts, and to notice the quaint religious ceremonies of the 
 people; and often I wished that some of our friends, with a strong 
 turn for Ritualism, could come and see a little of heathendom, 
 just to see what formalism can come to. It is curious enough to 
 see the little ceremonies of an ordinary worshipper. First, he 
 casts on the river his offering of flowers, he then rinses his mouth 
 with holy water, never heeding the bloated corpse that bobs up 
 and down in the stream close to him, and which may have died 
 of some horribly infectious disease. Then he prays, while standing 
 first on one leg, then on the other. Next he falls flat on his face, 
 kissing the earth. Rising, he bows to the four points of the com¬ 
 pass. Then looking heavenward, he raises his hands in supplication. 
 He next pours out an offering of Ganges water to the sun. Perhaps 
 he daubs his own body with Ganges mud. He washes his turban and 
 the cloth wrapped round his loins, and goes on his way rejoicing. 
 
 But the simple ceremonial of the laity is nothing compared 
 with the quaint means adopted by the quiet, meditative Brah¬ 
 mans, to stir up their own minds and increase their powers of 
 
5/2 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 concentrated thought. Remember what an intellectual race these 
 high-caste Brahmans are, with their pure Aryan descent written 
 on every lineament of their clear-cut features and high foreheads 
 —a race whose distinctive characteristics have been evolved by 
 fully three thousand years of hereditary self-culture, self-restraint 
 and life-long discipline, perpetually aiming at the highest standard 
 of ideal perfection. 
 
 Imagine thousands of these proud men with little raiment save 
 the mystic, threefold Brahmanic.al cord, which to mortal eyes is 
 only a bit of whipcord, worn over the left shoulder and under 
 the right, but which is really a certificate of the highest aristocracy 
 for both worlds. Picture to your mind these men sitting for hours 
 —sometimes the livelong day, on wooden stands, or platforms, 
 built out into the river, where, beneath the shadow of the huge 
 grass umbrellas, they sit absorbed in silent contemplation, striving 
 to intensify their devotion by a religious rite called Habsidam or 
 Pranayama , i.e. the retention or regulation of breath !! ! 
 
 The manner in which this is practised is to close one nostril 
 with the first finger of the right hand, while drawing a long breath, 
 and then reverse the process with the left hand ; then, closing 
 both nostrils, sit in silent, concentrated thought, till well-nigh 
 suffocated ; then, removing the finger first applied, breathe slowly 
 through that nostril. It sounds like a little joke ; but this never¬ 
 theless, is a most solemn act of faith. It is sometimes practised 
 while sitting calmly gazing on the river; sometimes while stand¬ 
 ing on one leg, while adoring the sun; and is probably followed 
 by a series of rapid grotesque prostrations and mutterings. 
 
 Similar concentration of mind is aimed at in another ceremonial 
 wherein the devotee is required to repeat a mantra or sacred 
 charm sixteen times while in the act of inhaling, and sixty-four 
 times while holding the breath. By snapping the fingers ten times 
 in different directions, during the ceremony, evil spirits are 
 scared ! 
 
 One great practical advantage of this mode of slow breathing 
 is the prolongation of life, for, as every man is fated to draw only 
 a given number of breaths between his birth and his grave it 
 
THE RETENTION OF BREATH. 573 
 
 follows that the longer he can take about it, the longer he will 
 live ! 1 
 
 The virtue of prolonged retention of breath is further exempli¬ 
 fied by a man suddenly taking a header under water, and there 
 remaining till you think he is certainly drowned. Not at all. 
 He is only trying to work out some abstruse, metaphysical train 
 of thought, or perhaps striving to realise to the uttermost how 
 very great and holy is the river goddess, and how certainly she is 
 even then washing away all his sins. He must also strive to 
 realise the indwelling within his own heart and brain of the three¬ 
 fold god whom he adores ; of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, all of 
 whom are symbolised by the holy and mystic word Aum which 
 he must reverently whisper—a name as sacred to the devout 
 Hindoo as was the title Jah to the Hebrew worshipper of Jehovah. 
 Who can say that in these earnest aspirations after more perfect 
 union with that Great Unknown Power in Whose presence within 
 himself he so firmly believes, he may not have more than we often 
 imagine, in common with creeds which we account more orthodox ? 
 
 Strange and childish, even ridiculous, as many of their cere¬ 
 monies are in our eves, those who can speak with these men think 
 that many among them are not so far from the Kingdom of God 
 as some might fear who glance only at their myriad idols, or as 
 they would say, symbols of faith. If it be true that “ in every 
 nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteousness, is accepted 
 of Him,” we little know how far some of these strange, earnest, 
 anxious creatures may have outrun many an easy-going Christian. 
 It was one of these men, who, speaking of his own death, said 
 “he knew that though his body might die, his spirit could never 
 
 1 This extraordinary method of gaining merit has been adopted by a sect of 
 Reformed Buddhists which originated about a hundred years ago in the province 
 of Shantung in China. They worship no images, but reverence the characters 
 which signify Heaven, Earth, Emperor, Parent, and Teacher. They are 
 vegetarians, and some practice celibacy. But their peculiar rite is THE 
 PRACTICE OF HOLDING THE BREATH TILL THE DEVOTEE IS BLACK IN THE 
 FACE, AND LIFE IS WELL-NIGH EXTINCT. SOME HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO 
 THIS FOR NEARLY HALF AN hour ! ! Meanwhile they imagine that the soul 
 has gone out into the unseen world collecting information, which, on his 
 recovery, the devotee divulges oracularly to the congregation. 
 
574 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 do so ; because, just as he who puts off his old garments, does so 
 only to assume better ; so he who lives in God only lays aside his 
 old body that he may put on a new and more glorious one.” 
 “ What is this world ? ” said a Brahman sage ; “ it is even as 
 
 A BOUGH OF A TREE, ON WHICH A BIRD RESTS FOR A NIGHT, AND 
 
 in the morning flies away.” Therefore he seeks to attain to 
 a perfect indifference to the pleasures or pains of the body, in 
 order that he may finally be reabsorbed into deity. Who can say 
 that hereafter, those who have striven to walk so faithfully by 
 such dim light as they have, may not be numbered amongst those 
 “ other sheep that are not of this fold ” ? 
 
 The devout Brahman is early at his prayers, and greets the 
 dawn by the recital of very beautiful ancient Sanskrit hymns (we 
 judge of their beauty from the translations by Monier Williams, 
 Max Muller, and other oriental scholars). Then, as the sun rises, 
 he stands to do it homage, throwing up water into the air from 
 his united hands, or from a brazen vessel. 
 
 Believing each part of his body to be the temple of some 
 divine person, he touches each reverently. Then follows a long 
 prayer, during which he twists his fingers (each consecrated to a 
 different god) into fanciful shapes to indicate different mystic 
 symbols, such as a garland, a tortoise, a fish, &c. He ought to 
 utter 108 prayers, and keep count of them on his rosary. This must 
 be done secretly, his hands and rosary being covered by a cloth. 
 
 Now standing up, he invokes Mitra, the Risen Sun, and, for the 
 good of his ancestors, he offers them homage, and repeats his own 
 genealogy! Then follows a closing ascription of praise to the 
 Trinity of Brahma, Rudra (i.e. Siva), and Vishnu ; and after a 
 final cleansing drink of (dirty Ganges) water, the elaborate 
 morning service is over. 
 
 Its minor details are innumerable. At different points, water 
 must be taken up in the hand with fingers straightened, now 
 again with fingers bent, now poured on one side of the hand, now 
 on the other. 
 
 Moreover the sacred Brahmanical thread is constantly being 
 shifted. In acts of ancestral worship it is worn over the right 
 
ALL-PERVADING WORSHIP. 
 
 575 
 
 shoulder and under the left. In worshipping gods it is worn 
 over the left and under the right. In worshipping saints it is 
 worn round the neck as a necklace. 
 
 An almost identical service must be performed at sunset. 
 
 Besides these there is a solemn form of family prayer in the 
 house every morning. This is the Deva-puja before the domestic 
 idols, when the worshipper (having duly placed the mystic three¬ 
 fold cord on his right shoulder) pours a libation of water from 
 his hand, praying that the water thus consecrated by the virtue of 
 his sacred thread may be accepted by such of his dead relatives 
 as have died without leaving sons to make offerings on their 
 behalf. 
 
 Mr. Monier Williams, who has devoted years of study to all 
 phases of religious thought and practice in India, past and 
 present, calculates that an orthodox modern Brahman must 
 devote about five hours a day to the performance of his devo¬ 
 tional routine, the chief duties incumbent on him being: i. Cere¬ 
 monial bathing. 2. Prolonged morning and evening worship. 
 3. Repetition of the first words of every sacred book. 4. The 
 daily oblation of water to the lesser gods, the sages, and deceased 
 human beings. 5. The sacrifice by fire, butter, and rice. 6. Do¬ 
 mestic worship in the family. 7. A prolonged service before the 
 mid-day meal. 8. Offerings of food to gods and beggars. 
 9. Daily visits to the temple. 10. More reading of sacred 
 books, and frequent fasts. 
 
 To our rarely reverent western minds, which barely brook the 
 utterance of the shortest form of thanksgiving before even one 
 daily meal, the practice of the really orthodox Brahman in this 
 respect certainly suggests a serious test of patience. In the first 
 place, the Hindoo family has generally only two meals daily — the 
 principal one at noon, and the second at sunset. 
 
 Before eating, offerings must be made to all the food-giving 
 gods. First to the Fire which cooked the food, and which will 
 now bear the offering to heaven. So consecrated fire is kindled 
 with consecrated fuel in a small brazier, and sacred kusa grass 
 having been strewn around, one of the family recites sac ed 
 
576 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 texts. He then goes through the ceremonies of sipping water 
 and holding his breath, as in the morning ritual. 
 
 Rice is then cooked, with a running accompaniment of ancient 
 prayers and hymns, and when the food is ready, the worshipper 
 purifies his hands, and offers a small handful of rice to each 
 food-god, throwing it into the fire. Then he takes ashes from 
 the fire and rubs them on his forehead, neck, head, and shoulders, 
 while invoking Siva in his character of Rudra, and praying him 
 not to harm the family or their cattle, but he prays Vishnu to 
 grant life for a hundred years with wisdom, strength, health, 
 happiness, intellect, and other good things. The prayer is 
 offered to Brahma the Supreme. 
 
 After this, small portions of food are arranged on the ground in a 
 double circle, an inner circle of little rice heaps for the gods already 
 worshipped, and an outer circle for all other gods and beings, 
 addressing each byname (thirty-six classes are enumerated, includ¬ 
 ing waters, plants, household deities, the earth, gods of the founda¬ 
 tion of the house, good spirits and evil spirits, spirits of day, and 
 spirits of night. Also to the four-eyed hell-dogs, Syama and Sabala. 
 
 In offering to these, he prays the lord of food to grant a blessing 
 on the food he is himself about to eat. Then going out of his 
 house he places portions on the ground for persons of low caste 
 and no caste, for dogs and all other animals, and for the crows 
 whom he summons from the four quarters of heaven. He waits 
 a little in case some beggar may come and crave alms. Then he 
 again washes his hands and feet, drinks a little purifying water, 
 and re-enters the house, invoking peace upon it. 
 
 Even now he and the family cannot fall to ravenously, as they 
 must long to do, for the ceremony is a punctiliously religious one. 
 The men now sit on the ground, and the women of the family 
 wait on them, on no account eating till they have finished. Again 
 they sip water ceremoniously for purification—each from the palm 
 of his hand. Also it is sprinkled round each green leaf, which 
 acts as plate. They may use plates of polished metal but not of 
 earthenware. Then a text is recited and a long grace, and then 
 four small portions of food are laid on the ground beside each 
 
THE MYSTIC COTTON CORD. 577 
 
 man’s plate. Then at last they may eat their simple meal of 
 cooked or curried vegetables. 
 
 Afterwards the green leaves and the portions of dedicated food 
 are given to the cows or other animals. 
 
 Methinks a hungry Briton would find it hard to tolerate such 
 lengthy preliminaries for even a civic festival! Nor is it easy 
 for him to realise all the mystical ideas associated with the 
 insignificant looking bit of cotton-twist to which such immense 
 importance is attached by India’s millions. 
 
 The said sacred thread was by all early writers on India 
 supposed to be the distinguishing mark of Brahmans from all 
 other castes. Now, however, it appears that it is only the Sudras 
 or servile castes who do not wear this simple badge of honour. 
 The military Kshatriyas wear such a cord made of hemp only. 
 The Yaisyas, or industrial class, wear one of wool, and the only 
 DISTINCTION OF THE THREEFOLD BRAHMANICAL CORD LIES IN THE 
 
 fact that it must be of cotton only . 1 It must be made of 
 three cotton threads, each composed of three fine threads, which 
 must be twisted to a running accompaniment of sacred texts, while 
 sprinkled with holy water from a sprinkler of the divine kusa 
 grass. The cord is supposed to symbolize the three incarnations 
 of Brahma, and it must moreover be entirely the handiwork of 
 some parental Brahman, who must himself gather the cotton 
 from the plant; spin and twist the mystic cord, which is the 
 bearer’s patent of nobility. 
 
 As soon as a young Brahman attains his eighth year, he is in¬ 
 vested therewith. His eyelids are painted. He is adorned with 
 a coral necklace and a new garment; he is anointed with oil, and 
 made to offer solemn sacrifices to the sacred fire and to the nine 
 planets. Various other ceremonies and religious rites of all sorts 
 are observed. All his kindred celebrate this glad day with feast¬ 
 ing and gladness, and the boy is henceforth admitted to all the 
 privileges of his high estate. He now assumes the title of Dvi-ja, 
 
 1 The Parsees of Bombay likewise wear a sacred cord of seventy-two 
 threads of pure white wool, forming a flat cord, or “girdle,” which is coiled 
 three times round the body. 
 
 P P 
 
573 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 i.e. “twice-born.” No matter how poor he may be, servant 
 perhaps to some rich Sudra, or other man of low caste, it matters 
 not; all other castes, his own master included, owe him reverence 
 as to one intrinsically holier than themselves. 
 
 Not that all Brahmans are of equal rank. They are subdivided 
 into so many classes that the highest is as far removed from the 
 lowest as that lowest is from the Pariah. 
 
 The old belief in the divine right of the Brahmans, and of 
 their mighty power as a vast united body overspreading the whole 
 land, has melted away on a closer examination of their actual 
 condition. It has now been ascertained that, besides their in¬ 
 numerable petty subdivisions, there exist in every province of 
 India two great classes, both bearing the name of Brahman and 
 wearing the sacred thread, yet utterly despising one another ; 1 
 dwelling side by side, yet refusing all intercourse ; never inter¬ 
 marrying, not eating together. Their very countenances betray 
 the difference, one class retaining the strikingly handsome features 
 and clear, fair skins of the old Aryans, the other being dark in 
 colour, and stamped with the common features of the lowest 
 castes. The only theory by which this can be explained (for the 
 true solution has been jealously concealed by the Brahmans them¬ 
 selves) is, that when the Aryan conquerors took possession of the 
 land, and found it impossible wholly to crush the aboriginal 
 aristocracy, they invented a compromise, so as, nominally at least, 
 to hold all power in their own hands ; and so, just as the old 
 Greeks and Romans bestowed their name and citizenship on such 
 of their conquered subjects as could either purchase that honour 
 “with a great sum,” or else obtain it as a reward of merit, it 
 would appear that the Brahmans, even while thoroughly despising 
 the aboriginal races, were driven to the expedient of receiving 
 certain of the more wealthy families into their own body by 
 giving them their name and investing them with the sacred thread. 
 
 That this is the case is evident from the fact that the farther 
 south you go, the lower does the type of thread-wearers become, 
 so that in the extreme south, as in the hill-country of Central 
 1 See chapter vii. p. iSo. 
 
MANUFACTURE OF BRAHMANS. 
 
 579 
 
 India, whither the aboriginal tribes were driven, and where only 
 a small proportion of the fair-skinned race followed, the pure 
 type of Brahman is almost unknown ; and the mystic thread is 
 worn by gold and silver smiths, stonecutters, carpenters, and even 
 blacksmiths, all of whom are, in Northern India, accounted 
 Sudras, that is to say, quite low caste. Passing still farther south 
 to Ceylon, it appears that the true Brahman literally does not 
 exist, and that all who bear the name have been manufactured as 
 a matter of expediency. 
 
 Of the possibility of conferring this dignity on one not born to 
 it, there still exists a practical proof in the fact that the low-caste 
 Rajahs of Travancore are to this day elevated to this high 
 honour on their accession to the throne; part of the cere¬ 
 mony observed being that they must pass through the body of a 
 golden cow , symbolizing the cleansing of all sin, and the new birth 
 by which they become regenerate. 
 
 But of the wholesale Brahman manufacture of olden times we 
 find only dim legends telling how certain great princes, desirous 
 of offering such vast sacrifices as demanded the presence of ten 
 thousand priests, did actually collect whole tribes of the lowest 
 of the people to the number of perhaps a hundred thousand, all 
 of whom were duly invested with the sacred thread ! In most 
 of these legends, Krishna kindly appears to sanction this very 
 irregular proceeding. The story, with a few variations, is told of 
 several arbitrary monarchs reigning respectively in Oude, Orissa, 
 and other kingdoms widely separated. Sometimes Krishna is 
 said to have indulged in this transformation of castes for his own 
 special amusement, as for instance, when, in one of his incar¬ 
 nations as a holy sage dwelling in Southern India, he caused the 
 sea to recede from the mainland, and thus formed the level coast 
 of Malabar, whither he retreated. Many fishermen followed him 
 thither, but the sage wearied for the companionship of Brahmans, 
 so he determined to raise his followers from their degraded caste 
 to that for which his righteous soul craved. Therefore he took 
 their nets (the very nets which had been instrumental in the 
 destruction of animal life), and untwining them, he proceeded to 
 
 P P 2 
 
IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 580 
 
 manufacture an unlimited supply of cord, of the orthodox three¬ 
 fold twist, and therewith invested the whole male population. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that, although the Malabar Brahmans of 
 the present day try to hold their heads higher than the purer 
 families who have emigrated thither in more recent days, and try 
 to ignore their fisher origin, it is alluded to as a well-known fact 
 by a Dutch writer who visited the coast early in the last century. 
 Moreover, they retain many of their aboriginal customs of the 
 worst class, herein assimilating closely to the neighbouring tribes 
 of Nairs—a race by whom polyandry is recognised as the orthodox 
 form of wedded life. These fisher-priests also retain one trace of 
 their despised origin, namely, that the casting of a net and 
 catching a fish forms part of their marriage ceremony , 1 which, 
 however, they carefully conceal from Europeans. 
 
 One marked characteristic whereby the descendants of the 
 manufactured Brahmans may be distinguished from those of pure 
 Aryan blood, is by their habitual ministration at the bloodstained 
 altars of Siva; the sacrifice of life, and indeed the recognition of 
 Siva in his character of destroyer, being remnants of aboriginal 
 worship, and therefore abhorrent to the true Brahman, though 
 admitted as a matter of expediency; a compromise, whereby in 
 olden days the aboriginal tribes might be attracted within the pale 
 of the church. 
 
 In many districts of India large numbers of Brahmans devote 
 themselves exclusively to agriculture, and are accordingly despised 
 by the idler classes, who declare that in bygone ages their 
 ancestors forsook the priestly office and gave themselves up to 
 this degrading work. The peasant Brahmans are scattered all 
 over the country, some work as coolies and day-labourers, some 
 as domestic servants, many are soldiers, others even serve as local 
 police, which is considered as very low work indeed. 
 
 In the Himalayas several distinct races are found, some of 
 whom are shepherds, some ploughmen, others will do almost any 
 work, even to carrying a jampan or palanquin, and a very small 
 proportion of them seem to hold any especially priestly office. 
 
 1 Orissa. By W. W. Hunter. 
 
BRAHMANS OF ALL GRADES. 
 
 P Q r 
 
 5^ r 
 
 These hill Brahmans eat meat freely, they allow widows to re-marry 
 and indeed will themselves marry their deceased brothers’ wives ! 
 
 In short, everything that can be said on the subject goes to 
 prove that the generic term of Brahman is applied indiscriminately 
 to innumerable totally different races, who have no pretension to 
 a common ancestry, and who hate and despise one another with 
 their utmost energy. Every shade of character is thus included, 
 from the most lazy and improvident, to the most frugal and hard¬ 
 working ; every gradation of faith, from the most subtle and 
 refined which the unaided mind of man can devise, down to the 
 very grossest and most childish, is alike represented, not by 
 individuals only, but by distinct classes, with as little affinity one 
 for another as oil has for water — however closely they may be 
 associated, they will never blend. 
 
 The highest grade of sanctity that the Hindoo mind can con¬ 
 ceive is embodied in the Coolin Brahman, before whom all other 
 men bow down in humble reverence. The highest favour that 
 can befall any family is that a Coolin should marry a daughter of 
 the house. Not that the family cares are thereby lightened. The 
 damsel never leaves her father’s roof, and perhaps may not behold 
 the face of her husband from one year’s end to the next, nor does 
 he make her any allowance whatsoever. On the contrary, he has 
 thenceforth a right to come whenever he pleases to the house of 
 his father-in-law, and there remain as long as suits his convenience. 
 Moreover, there is no limit to the number of families on whom he 
 may confer this inestimable privilege. 
 
 There is no doubt that in some cases the favour really does lie 
 in his marrying the damsel unportioned ; as, to be still “an un¬ 
 appropriated blessing,” at the age of ten years, would be a most 
 terrible disgrace ; while to marry a man of an inferior caste would 
 be worse still ; and at best, an Indian marriage is a mere bargain, 
 heartless and soulless, so perhaps the wives of the Coolin are 
 better off than many of their sisters, in that they are left with their 
 own mothers instead of being made over to the tender mercies of 
 an Indian mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, who rule the harem 
 with absolute power. 
 
532 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Certainly, it must be a weary enough lot that generally awaits 
 these much bejewelled young brides, and the sight of an eastern 
 wedding ceremony invariably called to my mind a story, which, 
 by the way, suggests itself pretty often in England, where woman’s 
 rights and womanly freedom of choice are so loudly asserted—a 
 story of a farmer’s wife explaining to a neighbour how admirably 
 she had married her daughter, what endless plenishings were in her 
 new house, how many cows, and sheep, and pigs, and poultry, to 
 say nothing of a gig, in which to drive to market, “jist like a 
 leddy,” concluding her description with, “ Ou, there’s nae doubt it’s 
 a grand marriage ; an’ it wasna jist for ae thing.” The neighbour 
 naturally inquired what the ae thing might be, to which her 
 friend at first seemed unwilling to recur. However, at last she 
 was brought back to the point, a mere trivial drawback : “ Weel, ye 
 see, THE PUIR SILLY CRATUR CANNA THOLE 1 HER MAN ! ! ” So I 
 fear there may be a good many brown brides as well as white 
 ones who cantia thole their lords ! 
 
 There are some rather amusing stories told of the way in which 
 covetous thieves have circumvented the Brahmans whom they 
 dared not rob. One such tells how three thieves once found out 
 that a Brahman was coming along a certain road, carrying a goat 
 on his shoulder. They coveted the goat exceedingly, and agreed 
 to separate, so that each in turn should meet the holy man, 
 and salute him with all reverence. Then they would suddenly feign 
 disgust and dismay on perceiving that he carried on his shoulders an 
 unclean dog instead of a goat. Assuredly the holy father must be 
 mad. So they parted. The first came up as had been agreed, 
 and feigned unutterable horror. The Brahman thought the poor 
 fellow was deranged. When the second met him and did likewise 
 he began to be somewhat uncomfortable in his own secret heart. 
 But when the third accosted him with the same horrible exclama¬ 
 tion, the poor Brahman believed that in very deed they spoke the 
 truth, and that in punishment for some-forgotten sin, Ganesa had 
 in truth afflicted him with madness; whereupon, casting away the 
 dubious animal, he fled to the temple to make atonement. Then 
 1 To thole, to endure. 
 
INSECURE FOUNDATIONS. 583 
 
 the rascals laughed among themselves, and having slain the goat, 
 they feasted to their heart’s content. 
 
 As we leisurely rowed up the stream, stopping from time to 
 time to make careful drawings from different points, our attention 
 was arrested by one magnificent bathing ghaut of finely hewn stone, 
 with elaborate carving, and obviously new, which nevertheless had 
 fairly tilted backward, as though bodily subsiding into the river. 
 This ghaut was built by Scindia, when he had risen from his 
 original position as a slipper-bearer, to the high estate of his 
 later days, and had determined to eclipse all other ghauts in the 
 holy city. But alas for 
 
 “ The little rift within the lover’s lute 
 
 That by and by will make the music mute.” 
 
 It seems that a tiny streamlet trickled along the ground where 
 the builders laid their foundation, and instead of allowing a 
 channel for this insignificant watercourse they simply built over it. 
 But the little rivulet was not going to be ignored ; and though it 
 worked quietly underground, it was gradually sapping the founda¬ 
 tions of the great new ghaut, and ere the finishing stones were laid, 
 the whole building gradually settled backward, and will probably, 
 sooner or later, topple over altogether. This is the native version. 
 
 Of course no earthquake could have occasioned this accident, 
 for as we already know, Siva, who carries the city on the point of 
 his trident, has exempted it from all such. I noticed however that 
 one of the neighbouring temples which stands in the river is as 
 much off the plumb as the tower of Pisa, while other buildings half 
 a mile up the stream have assumed much the same angle, and I 
 am told that within the last fifty years many ghauts and temples 
 have subsided, undermined by the current, which in the rainy 
 season sweeps this bank with impetuous flow, submerging many of 
 the temples along the shore. At such times some of the best 
 swimmers glory in swimming to their accustomed temple and 
 diving beneath the porch so as to enter and worship at their 
 accustomed shrine. But already several of these temples on the 
 shore have been engulfed, and assuredly others will soon follow. 
 
5 §4 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 As we rowed along, we noticed a vast number of pilgrims, 
 wearily and painfully making their five-mile circuit sunwise round 
 the holy city, sometimes wading up to their waists in deep mud, men 
 and women alike floundering along. These were the conscientious 
 ones. The careless and easy-going took a simpler and drier part 
 within the boundary of the city. 
 
 In one form or another, these PrcuMkshinas, or religious tours 
 sunwise, are as much in favour here as they ever were in the 
 Scottish Highlands—and in this great country we find them on a 
 very extensive scale, the most remarkable of all being those of 
 holy rivers, from their source down the left bank to the mouth, 
 and then crossing, follow up the right bank, and so returning 
 to the source. This meritorious circuit of the Ganges, from 
 Gangoutri to Ganga-Sagara and back, takes the pilgrim about six 
 years!! A similar circuit of the sacred Nerbudda requires 
 about three years, but that of the Godavari and the Krishna 
 rivers can be accomplished in about two years. How much 
 hard labour is involved in such a pilgrimage may be estimated 
 by those who have traced great rivers to their mountain cradles ! 
 
 A small domestic firadakshina is performed by women who 
 sometimes make 108 sunwise turns round a sacred tulasi, or 
 basil shrub, i.e. keeping their right shoulder towards the plant. 
 The basil is held sacred, from having been the form once taken, 
 either by Krishna’s wife, Rukmini, or by Vishnu’s wife, Rama- 
 candra—a point of dispute between their respective worshippers. 
 Anyhow, it is a plant endowed with mystic powers of healing, and 
 counteracts the poison of serpents ; so a tulasi shrub holgls a place 
 of honour among the household gods of almost every Hindoo 
 home, where it is enthroned on an ornamental pedestal, and 
 receives offerings of rice and flowers. Moreover, a plant of 
 basil is often grown on the raised platform at the base of the 
 pipal tree, 1 and village matrons who have no domestic tulasi 
 shrub, come here to make their 108 turns, while repeating the 
 108 names of Vishnu. 
 
 From opposite Scindia’s Ghaut the view is very grand, both up 
 
 1 Ficus religiosa. 
 
THE GODDESS MOTHERS. 
 
 5S5 
 
 and down stream. Looking back we have a very fine palace of 
 deep red sandstone, a group of temples with quaint lantern 
 towers, that is, tall towers incrusted with projecting lamp-stands 
 for festal occasions. Above, on a steep bank overhanging the 
 stream, towers Aurungzebe’s Mosque, and beyond lie gardens 
 and bathing ghauts without number, and the ruins of the Old 
 Fort overlooking the bridge of boats. 
 
 On the opposite side of the river is Ramnugger, the palace of 
 the great Maharajah, whose boats of divers form float past us, 
 one of them fashioned and painted like a peacock. 
 
 As you turn to look up the river you see in the foreground one 
 cluster after another of conical-shaped towers of richly carved 
 stone, mostly marked by the golden trident, that shows them 
 to be the temples of Siva. Beyond his temples comes one like 
 a Chinese pagoda. That is the Nepaulese temple. Next to 
 this is that of the Goddess of Small-pox, alias the Mother 
 of Death ! Strange to say, in a country where cremation is the 
 rule, the victims of small-pox (of all others ! !) are frequently 
 exempt from burning, from a fear lest this goddess should object 
 to the process. It is one of the peculiarities of this strange 
 people, that deeming all illnesses to be occasioned by demons 
 of various sorts, they worship these as Goddess Mothers. It is 
 said that there are no less than 140 of such recognised, all of whom 
 require propitiatory offerings of blood of goats, swine, and cocks. 
 One of those worshipped in Gujerat requires an annual supply 
 of about 4,000 black kids! Many of these very unlovable 
 “ mothers ” are represented nursing a young child. 
 
 For hours we lay moored off one great ghaut, that I might 
 thence sketch the towering city, heaped up the steep hill-side, 
 with its narrow, almost perpendicular streets of stairs running 
 up to meet the blue sky; its fine houses and green trees, its 
 countless temples piled one above another, and its innumerable 
 bathing ghauts, all thronged with ever-changing picturesque 
 groups ; 'each item so attractive, and the whole so bewildering, 
 that it needed a strong effort to persevere in the patient attempt 
 to produce anything like a faithful study of the scene. 
 
5S6 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 In the middle distance towers one great temple, painted deep 
 red, and pointed all over with gold spikes, which is always half 
 veiled by the brightest blue smoke from the burning ghaut just 
 beyond, where I sometimes counted as many as eight or ten 
 funeral pyres blazing at once, while the dying lay along the 
 muddy edge of the river waiting for their order of release. 
 How far that may be occasionally expedited by an additional 
 dose of mud, it would be hard to say. Once there, nothing 
 may again pass their lips save a drink of Ganges water—a few 
 leaves of the shrub-goddess, the sacred tulasi plant, are placed 
 in the mouth—and if death should linger too long, a little kindly 
 mud is no great harm. Many a weary soul just crawls to the 
 holy city to end his long pilgrimage, and attains the boon he 
 craves ; an end of all life’s suffering in the one great rest for 
 weary limbs, and a certain welcome to the longed-for heaven. 
 What more can he desire ? Are there not scores of holy Brah¬ 
 mans as ready to speed the dying on their way as to absolve the 
 living, promising rest for the weary, pardon for all sin, and 
 blessings without number in return for offerings and priestly 
 fees? So the sick and the aged whose hour is supposed to 
 have come, are laid on the brink of the river, and their relations 
 wait with apparently the utmost apathy, while Pariah dogs and 
 birds of prey watch eagerly for the moment when their horrible 
 carnival may begin. 
 
 I am not now speaking of the burning ghaut in the city. Those 
 who bring their relations here are probably rich enough to pay 
 for the shelter of a murhi, which is a covered shed on the brink 
 of the river, and while the dying slowly breathe their last breath 
 on the hallowed shore, their friends repair to the wood-merchant 
 close by, and buy as much wood as they can afford. Sometimes 
 they can only get enough to char the body, which is then cast 
 into the river and floats down the lazy current together with 
 many another, in every stage of putrefaction, spreading the seed 
 of pestilence on the quiet air. And so it comes to pass* that you 
 cannot row up the stream without your boat or your oar again 
 and again coming in contact with an unsightly bloated mass, 
 
THE FUNERAL PYRE OR THE RIVER ? 
 
 537 
 
 once human ; a something whose late inmate has doubtless solved all 
 the mysteries at which in his own strange way he worked so hard. 
 The boatmen look with the utmost indifference at these common 
 objects of the stream and shore, and giving them a shove with 
 their oars to prevent their becoming entangled with the boat, send 
 them on their unrestful course. 
 
 Just imagine how frightfully this system of disposing of the 
 dead must tend to the spread of cholera and other diseases ! 
 
 It is bad enough to know that the people coming from infected 
 houses are in the daily habit of washing their clothes and all 
 manner of vessels, at the very edge of the wells and tanks, into 
 which, of course, the foul water is at once drained. But the rivers 
 fare still worse, for into them are cast the very bodies wherein 
 fever, leprosy, and cholera fiends have held triumphant revel, and 
 wherein they still lurk, hatching fresh mischief, and sending forth 
 other spirits as vicious as themselves in search of fresh victims. 
 
 Of course it is the usual story of poverty revenging itself on 
 its unsympathizing rich neighbours, for in the case of the wealthier 
 Hindoo, the funeral pyre is carefully built, and when the corpse 
 has been washed in the river it is swathed in fair linen, white or 
 scarlet—or still more often the shroud is of the sacred saffron 
 colour, on which is showered a handful of vermilion paint, which 
 is said by some to symbolize the blood of sprinkling as the atone¬ 
 ment for sin. Sometimes the body is wrapped in cloth of silver 
 or of gold, and is laid upon the pyre. Sweet sacred grass is then 
 laid over it, and precious anointing oil which shall make the flame 
 burn more brightly; and more wood is heaped on till the pyre is 
 very high. A Brahman then brings sacred fire and gives a lighted 
 torch to the chief mourner, who then walks thrice or nine times 
 sunwise round the body. He touches the lips of the dead with 
 the holy fire, then lights the pyre. Other torches are applied 
 simultaneously, and in a very few moments the body is burnt, 
 though the fire smoulders long. 
 
 This simple ceremony of cremation as now practised under the 
 regulation of British law, is shorn of all the ghastly horrors which 
 have so often been enacted at this spot, ere the burning of widows 
 
538 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 on the funeral pyre was declared illegal. I believe that about fifty 
 years have elapsed since the last case of sati; surely the Hindoo 
 widows, like the self-torturing ascetics, must secretly rejoice in this 
 intervention of the infidel rulers. 
 
 There is one very curious item in this cremation ceremonial. 
 It is supposed that in the moment of death, the soul of a bad man 
 passes downward from the body, while that of a righteous man 
 escapes upward through the skull. Of course, every one assumes 
 his own dead to be bound in the right direction, so, to facilitate 
 the upward flight, it is proper during cremation for one of the 
 mourners to approach with a club of sacred wood to crack the 
 skull with a well-aimed blow. 
 
 When great saints are buried, instead of being cremated, a 
 blow from a sacred conch-shell, or from a cocoa-nut, is equally 
 effectual. 
 
 When the body has been consumed, all the mourners come 
 down to the river, beating their breasts and howling, and proceed 
 to wash themselves and their clothes, and go through divers 
 ceremonies of purification necessary after touching a dead body. 
 On the fourth day after cremation the ashes are collected and 
 sprinkled on the sacred river, which thus absorbs all that was 
 mortal of its devout worshipper. 
 
 Close by a pretty ceremony is going on. A gaily-dressed 
 family party, including every member, from the old grandfather 
 to the youngest child, have come to the brink of the river to give 
 thanks and offerings to the goddess Ganga, on the occasion of a 
 boy having been shaved for the first time. Not his beard, for not 
 the silkiest down suggests such a future decoration, but his head 
 has been shorn of all its locks, save the small tuft allowed by his 
 caste ; and the magnificently dressed little fellow stalks along in 
 all the conscious pride of manhood, and casts his offerings of 
 flowers and coins and sweetmeats into the stream. 
 
 This boy was apparently about seven years of age. Small 
 Brahmans are subjected to the tonsure when they have attained 
 their third year, when the father sprinkles the child’s head with 
 butter and curds and warm water, and passes stalks of sacred 
 
ROSARIES OF THE VISIINUVITES AND OF THE SIVITES. 589 
 
 kusa grass through the hair, with invocation to the divine grass, 
 after which the little head is shaved, with the exception of one, 
 three, or five locks, which are left to adorn the scalp ; and very 
 quaint henceforth is the appearance of the tiny copper-coloured 
 mortal. 
 
 A child’s religious education begins in its third or fourth year, 
 when it is taught to repeat the formula, “ Great Krishna is my 
 soul’s refuge,” which it must henceforth reiterate many times a 
 day. To aid it in this task it is invested by the ministering Brah¬ 
 man with the japa mala , or muttering beads, i.e. a rosary of 108 
 beads of tulasi-wood, i.e. the sacred basil. These beads typefy a 
 selection of 108 of the most sacred names of Vishnu, taken from 
 his full catalogue of 1,000 names and attributes — including such 
 titles as “The Way, the Truth, the Life, the Physician, the Most 
 Holy, the Pure One, the Auspicious, the Omnipresent.” 
 
 In the same way, the little Sivite is presented with a rosary of 
 either thirty-two or sixty-four rough berries of the Mundrasi, or 
 Rudraksha tree, 1 a berry probably selected from being five-sided, 
 and therefore suggestive of Siva’s five faces. This rosary is to 
 help the worshipper in reciting the 1,008 attributes of Siva. 
 
 The shaving party have now gone on their way rejoicing, and 
 on the platform where they stood a new group has now arrived, 
 bearing something in a sheet. That something is a corpse, carried 
 miles perhaps, to be washed in the holy Ganges. The mourners 
 do their work slowly and deliberately, and the marriage party 
 take no heed of their neighbours, for though in any other land 
 such meetings would be deemed evil omens, here they are the 
 common things of daily life, and excite no comment whatever. 
 Perhaps they lend to the feast that strange incentive to pleasure 
 which the old Egyptians sought to introduce, when at their merry 
 festivals they handed round an exquisitely carved ivory skeleton in 
 a small sarcophagus—and sometimes even carried in a genuine 
 mummy — to remind the guests how short a time they had for 
 mirth, and bid them make the most of it. Death at the feast ! — 
 a strange, piquant sauce to lend new zest to jaded appetites ! 
 
 1 Eleocarpus Ganitrus. 
 
590 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 Meanwhile a very gay Mahratta marriage-party has assembled 
 on the next platform which projects as a pier into the river. 
 Tire young couple are a very small boy and girl gorgeously 
 dressed. They are so close to us that we can count every ring 
 in the little bride’s ears, nose, and toes. The tiny bride and 
 bridegroom are tied together by a consecrated scarlet scarf, 
 fastened to both their dresses and concealing their united hands. 
 A priest winds the sacred cord round their necks, while reciting 
 prayers ; water is poured out from a brass lota, also cocoa-nut juice. 
 
 For a while they sit silently gazing into the water, supposed to 
 be making poojah, that is, worshipping ; and the stillness is only 
 broken by the cries of a burying party, who pass just behind them, 
 bearing a corpse shoulder high, which they are carrying to the 
 burning ghaut just beyond, whence a thick cloud of blue smoke 
 is for ever rising in the calm sunshine. 
 
 Then there is a sprinkling of rice over the young couple (just 
 as at a London wedding), with the addition of a little red powder, 
 and then the wedding party return home. I am told that part 
 of the ceremony in the father’s house is the kindling of a sacred 
 fire, round which the little bride and bridegroom walk three 
 times hand in hand, only seven steps being allowed for each 
 circuit. Then, waxing affectionate, he puts his own arm round 
 her neck, and again walks thrice round the sacred flame while 
 throwing in offerings of emblematic barley and other seeds, and 
 while the priests burn clarified butter, just as in the early Aryan 
 rites. 
 
 Meanwhile the wedded children have said their little prayer, 
 and have cast on the water their garlands of roses and marigolds, 
 their handful of coins, a little grain, and some other offerings, 
 and Ganga in return gives her blessing to their marriage. 
 
 While young life is thus beginning to work out its endless 
 problem, one who has solved all its mysteries comes floating 
 past, with dead eyes fixed, in horrid, lifeless stare. And the 
 bridal wreaths of crimson and golden blossoms, which the child- 
 bride and her little lord have just offered to the river goddess, 
 are drawn by the eddying currents till they circle round the dead ; 
 
A LIVING KALEIDOSCOPE. 
 
 591 
 
 and one fresh, lovely garland clings to his head as a crown. And 
 so, swiftly and silently, life and death float together down the 
 smooth, solemn stream—the old story, “ the Spirit of Life ever 
 weaving, the Spirit of Death ever unweaving ”—just as they have 
 done through countless ages; while new generations fill the place 
 of those who are gone, as swiftly and as surely as fresh floods 
 pour down from the mountains, for ever hurrying onward to the 
 sea, yet for ever flowing in the same channel; so that the pilgrim 
 returns, year after year, to find the same broad brimming river all 
 unchanged. 
 
 Thus, as our boat lay moored at any spot where it might please 
 us to halt, this stream of life flowed past us, ever varying: youth 
 and age, sorrow and joy, life and death, in strangest combination. 
 And all day long, mingling with the sharp cries of the white and 
 brown kites that floated between us and the sun, or quarrelled 
 noisily over some precious find of dainty offal, the ceaseless clang 
 and murmur from the countless temples assailed our ears ; trumpets, 
 sunkhs (shells), tomtoms, and big drums mingling their horrid dis¬ 
 sonance. Verily ! it is a holy city. 
 
 It seems to me that its interest is inexhaustible, each moment 
 presenting some strangely picturesque incident, utterly unexpected, 
 as if that wonderful kaleidoscope never could exhaust its curious 
 combinations. As to giving you the faintest idea of Benares by 
 mere description, the attempt is too ludicrous ! 
 
 Among the commonplace scenes of daily domestic life are the 
 groups of veiled, jewelled women for ever passing up and down 
 those long stairs to fill their red earthenware jars with water, 
 which they poise on their heads, having perhaps also a child 
 astride on the maternal side. Others are busied in scouring their 
 brazen vessels, which gleam in the sun like burnished gold. 
 
 One small incident of parental discipline amused us considerably. 
 A boy had been sent down to fill his great red jar, but the 
 temptations of the river had been too much for him, and he lingered 
 till his angry father came in search of him, and administered 
 summary justice. The poor little wretch howled for mercy, and 
 on being released, filled his jar, and poising it on his head, slowly 
 
SQ2 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 ascended that long, long stair ; his father following close, and 
 administering a sharp “ spank” at every step. Poor child ! it was 
 very cruel of us to laugh, but the absurdity of the scene was 
 irresistible. 
 
 All day long boats of every description floated past us; some¬ 
 times crowding all their quaint sails — pure white, or tattered, as the 
 case might be; multitudes of large house-boats, thatched with straw 
 or bamboo — the sole home perhaps of a large family; others laden 
 with grain or with cotton, and steered by enormous rudders. 
 Little pleasure-boats of every sort and kind pass to and fro, full of 
 gaily-dressed people, or else bearing pilgrims to the opposite shore. 
 Sometimes men swim across, bringing with them a raft, whereon are 
 set their milk jars. In olden days palanquins and travellers were 
 thus floated across the river on a raft made of earthenware vessels 
 tied together, while all the bearers swam, and lent a hand to guide 
 the raft. Now, however, most people would prefer taking a longer 
 round, and coming across the bridge of boats. 
 
 One pleasant feature of our days on the river was the excellent 
 supply of fruit which was daily sent by our kind Rajah. In fact, 
 there was always a first-rate breakfast, or rather d'cjeimer a la 
 fourchette , ready for us at any moment when we could spare time 
 for anything so commonplace as eating and drinking. What we 
 chiefly enjoyed was the capital hot tea. On the last day, however, 
 as we were finishing our breakfast, a thought flashed across us too 
 horrible for utterance. We looked at one another in blank dismay; 
 
 and every face expressed the same mute disgust.Whence 
 
 had the water been drawn to fill our little kettle ? Was there any 
 room for doubt—one lingering hope that out of deference to our 
 feelings it had been brought from some pure well ? or that reverence 
 for the great goddess Ganga had prevented her being converted 
 into tea for unbelievers ? Alas ! there was no chance for such a 
 thing. There was no doubt that we, like most of our neighbours, 
 had unwittingly swallowed our peck of dirt — had involuntarily 
 incorporated a very large amount of essence of Hindoo. There 
 was nothing for it but resolutely to determine to forget the fact 
 with all possible speed—a resolution more easily made than kept!! 
 
ZENANA MISSIONS. 
 
 593 
 
 Several times when we returned from the river in the evenings, 
 the kind old Rajah came to see us, and, leaving his gold-wrought 
 slippers at the door, would sit chatting quite happily for a good 
 while. Of course, I could not understand him, but a little 
 interpreting made the conversation general ; and it was pleasant 
 to watch the benevolent expression of a face that always reminded 
 me of some saintly bishop. I confess it was a great shock to my 
 feelings, on going to return his visit, to see that dear old face painted 
 with streaks and caste marks, received that morning at his temple. 
 He received us with all ceremony in a large handsome house, took 
 us to the roof to see the view, adorned us with large silver harrs 
 (necklaces of silver ribbon, plaited), and offering us pcm (betel-nuts 
 and cardamoms, chatted on all manner of subjects, while his 
 confidential servants, our trusty guides and guardians, looked on 
 with evident interest, very anxious that we should be duly impressed 
 by everything. They were men of just the same stamp as the 
 faithful, trusty Highland retainers of olden days—such men as 
 we still happily find from time to time—attached old servants. 
 
 I did not venture to ask for “the house,” meaning the women- 
 kind, as I could not have talked to them; so when we had said 
 our say, Sir Deo himself escorted us back to his own carriage, his 
 servants looking on admiringly. The good old man was as anxious 
 to ensure our church-going on Sunday, as all other ploys of the 
 week. He knew the exact hours of morning and evening service, 
 and insisted on sending us there in the usual state, though we 
 ventured to plead that for so short a distance we might surely walk. 
 So from first to last there was no end to his kindness, the remem¬ 
 brance of which ranks very high amongst happy memories of India. 
 
 Amongst my many pleasant reminiscences of Benares was a 
 chance railway acquaintance with a very charming English¬ 
 woman—one of the ladies of the Zenana Mission—whose life- 
 work it is to fraternise with as many of her Hindoo sisters as 
 care to welcome her to their homes (and these are legion), and 
 then try to impart to them some of the commoner branches of 
 civilised education. It is only of late years that such a thing 
 has become possible, as hitherto learning of any sort has been 
 forbidden to all women of good character, and a knowledge of 
 
 Q Q 
 
594 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 reading, writing, singing, or dancing, has marked those damsels 
 only who were essentially “fast.” Thus, anything more dreary 
 than the home-life of a Hindoo matron could scarcely be devised. 
 She may cook for her husband, but may not eat in his presence; 
 nor may she even speak to him in presence of his mother or 
 sisters, who rule the house, in which she is but a cipher. Very 
 lew even know how to sew. 
 
 Now a new era seems dawning on these dull lives. Multitudes 
 are gladly learning to read and write, and the “ Zenana ladies ” 
 receive a cordial welcome wherever they go, and are often invited 
 to extend their visits to new houses, of rich merchants and great 
 men. Some, even of the influential Rajahs, have formally ad¬ 
 mitted them to visit “ their house ” (as they say, in order to 
 avoid even a distant allusion to their feminine relations), and seem 
 well pleased that their women-folk should now begin to cultivate 
 their minds after the manner of their white sisters. Hitherto, 
 when any one ventured to suggest such a possibility as that of 
 allowing dark women the same freedom as white ones, the men 
 would scout the idea, declaring that they would be utterly incapable 
 of using it. Now little by little they seem to be admitting the thin 
 end of the wedge, and allowing the first glimmer of light to enter 
 into those Zenanas, in which their sons and daughters are being 
 reared. Who can tell how this may act on the next generation ? 
 
 As regards the intellect of the women of India, there have 
 already been a sufficient number of notable examples among such 
 as have from time to time dared to escape from the trammels of 
 their early training, and to assert their own powers of thought and 
 action. Some of the most beautiful hymns in the Rig Veda are 
 ascribed to women — the Miriams of the Aryan host ! The 
 writings of Avyar, a female philosopher of the ninth century, are to 
 this day taught in the Tamul schools, and are classed among 
 the standard works of the land. 
 
 Moreover, as I have already had occasion to remark, 1 there 
 seems no reason to doubt that the most intellectual of all games, 
 which even to this day is deemed worthy exercise for the brains 
 of our wisest men—I mean chess—was invented by an Indian 
 1 See p. 156. 
 
WOMAN’S POSITION IN INDIA. 
 
 595 
 
 queen who lived two thousand years before the Christian era, in 
 those good old days when husband and wife shared life’s re¬ 
 sponsibilities, and were jointly described as “rulers of the 
 house,” 1 and together worshipped the gods—those good days ere 
 the Brahmans had invented the horrid rite of widow-burning, and 
 otherwise degraded the position of women. 
 
 There are also countless instances of clever wives and mothers 
 of princes, who have ruled the dominions of sons or husbands with 
 readier wit and stronger arm than these chanced to own. Such 
 was the late Begum of Bhopal, who did not scruple to lead her own 
 armies to the field, and even to appear in council in presence of 
 Europeans with unveiled face; a proceeding which scandalised 
 and shocked some of her followers, though it was admitted that 
 they rather liked the shock ! 
 
 There seems every probability that an internal upheaval has 
 even now commenced, which will greatly facilitate the work of 
 female education in India. Four years ago a fascinating and ac¬ 
 complished young Brahman lady, aged twenty-two, the daughter of 
 a learned pundit, started to travel through Bengal, accompanied by 
 her brother, in order to hold public meetings on the education and 
 emancipation of women in India ! Here certainly was a remark¬ 
 able stride, and the charming lady found great favour, and doubtless 
 her words will carry weight on behalf of many a dull harem. 
 
 One thing, however, I am bound to say, in favour of the results 
 of Indian guarding of women, which is, that our Hindoo sisters 
 certainly hold a better position than those of Britain in regard to 
 criminal statistics, for I find that whereas, for every million of 
 women in England and Wales, 340 are in gaol, only twenty-eight 
 per million of Indian women contrive to place themselves within 
 the grasp of the law. Indeed, for that matter, the men too 
 stand well as compared with ours, for whereas about 870 per 
 million Britons find their way to gaol, only 614 Hindoos are 
 there to be found 1 
 
 Our days at Benares were over. Once again we devoted a 
 long morning to sightseeing in the wonderful city. Then once 
 more crossing the bridge of boats, we found ourselves in the 
 
 1 Dampati . Q Q 2 
 
596 
 
 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 
 
 nineteenth century, and in the stables of the great iron horse, 
 which bore us swiftly away from a life that seemed rather like some 
 curious dream than like the common every-day existence of myriads 
 of ordinary mortals. 
 
 A few hours more, and we were again in Allahabad, encamped 
 in a great tent beneath shady tamarind trees. A week later found us 
 whirling along by rail to Bombay, halting at Nagpore “ the city of 
 the Naga,” i.e. of the Serpent—once a stronghold of his worshippers 
 —and likewise halting at Jubbulpore to see the far-famed marble 
 rocks, which rise like gleaming walls on either side of the clear 
 green waters of the Nerbudda, most sacred of all rivers. One 
 more expedition through the beautifully wooded mountain country 
 near Bombay and Poonah, and one long day spent in exploring 
 the wondrous rock temple on the Isle of Elephanta, and then we 
 bade adieu to the beautiful Indian land. 
 
 Then followed a voyage of many storms, and at length we caught 
 our first glimpse of the white cliffs of Albion on a wild March 
 morning, in the short intervals between sweeping snow-showers. 
 And 
 
 “ Oh ! the frosty cliffs looked cold upon me, 
 
 All things blurred and dull and vague. 
 
 Not a hill or stone with heart to strike a radiant colour 
 Or active outline on the indifferent air ! ” 
 
 Cold too, and pinched, and poverty-stricken, and eminently 
 unpicturesque looked the squalid crowd of tattered men, women, 
 and children. Oh, so different from the brilliant sunlit throngs 
 we had so recently left! 
 
 Many weeks elapsed ere I could shake off this first impression 
 of Britain. Therefore, should any who have read these pages be 
 inclined to follow in my footsteps, let me give them one solemn 
 warning, namely, so far to extend their twelve months’ wandering, 
 as not to return to England until the summer sun has warmed 
 these grey isles into such kindly heat and colour as may save 
 invidious comparisons between East and West. 
 
INDEX 
 
 A. 
 
 Aboriginal languages, 170 
 origin of Pariahs, 179 
 tribes of India, 178 
 Adjutants, 27 
 
 late Brahmans, 84 
 Afghan cats, 40 
 Afjhan policy, 276, 285 
 Afghanistan, Ameer of, 275-286 
 his estimate of beauty, 284 
 Afghans and Celts, 283 
 African Bushman, 179 
 Agra, 123, 141, 155 
 Akbar impales his relations, 126 
 Akbarabad, 123, 141, 155 
 Akbar’s college at Delhi, 224 
 court of justice, 158 
 encouragement of art and letters, 
 142 
 
 fort, 144 
 pilgrimage, 154 
 summer palace, 155 
 tomb, 152 
 vast harem, 141 
 Albino, a Hindoo, 483 n. 
 
 Allahabad, 67 
 fort, 73-76 
 great fair at, 85 
 
 junctions of railways and rivers 
 
 at, 73 
 
 Allegory, an, 337 
 Alluvial soil, 43, 66, 99 
 Almorah, 544 
 
 Alternation of heat and cold, 409, 
 415 
 
 Alum Bagh, 113 
 Ameer of Afghanistan, 275-286 
 his estimate of beauty, 284 
 
 Anemone, the wild, 469 
 Annandale, 303 
 
 Animals in Christian legend, 531 
 sacred to divers gods, 531 
 the source of great rivers, 
 536 
 
 Antagonism of races, 31 
 Ants, red, 70 
 white, 69 
 Apoplexy, 46 
 Apricot attracts bears, 402 
 cakes in rarefied air, 408 
 sour porridge, 403 
 the wild, 333, 335 
 Architecture, Hindoo, is perplexing, 
 224, and grotesque, 551 
 Mohammedan, is grand, 224 
 of tall houses at Benares, 
 556 
 
 Argus pheasant, 336 
 Ark, Hindoo sacred, 361-371, 436 
 Arrack taverns, 10 
 Artists’ paradise, 220 
 Aryan Celtic beliefs, 174 
 hymns, 175-177 
 Aryans, 173-179 
 Arzumund, Banoo, 126 
 Asoka, rock edicts, 195 
 stone pillars, 74 
 
 supports Buddhist monasteries, 
 161 
 
 Asparagus, thorny wild, 509 
 Astrology, 566 
 Attitude of rest, 25 
 Aum, the most sacred name of 
 Buddha, 427 ; of Brahma, 573 
 Auricula, lilac, 339 
 Aurungzebe, 12 
 
 his mo=que at Benares, 549 
 
598 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 B. 
 
 Baboo, distinctive dress of, 37 
 Babool sweet, 64 
 Bagpipes in India, 283 
 Bamboos, beautiful, 505-507 
 Barana river, 548 
 
 Barber caste higher than banker, 181 
 Barber’s work, 22 
 
 Barefooted servants versus boots, 72 
 Barker, Lady, her monkey party, 310 
 Bars of York, compare tombs, 201, 
 
 213 
 
 Basil shrub sacred, 547, 570 
 why held sacred, 584, 586 
 Baspa valley, 458 
 Bath, daily, 22 
 
 Bathing, promiscuous, 89, 569 
 Bathroom at Agra, 147 
 Bears, 402, 462 
 Beautiful cities, 55 
 Bedding necessary, 43 
 Beef, recent prohibition of, 183, 187, 
 263, 264 
 
 Beef-eating the one unpardonable 
 crime, 183 
 Beer, price of, 324 
 Begum Somroo, 264 
 canonised, 265 
 Benares, 546-569 
 
 500,000 idols at, 549 
 1500 temples, 551 
 25,000 Brahmans, 557 
 Bengal, population of, trebled, 47 
 starvation at, 49 
 
 Berhampore, the cradle of the Mutiny, 
 
 56 
 
 Betel pepper, 21 
 
 pepper and areca nut reddens 
 the mouth, 21, 483 
 Bezique, 388 
 Bhagirathi, 51, 56 
 
 Ganges m >st sacred, 535 
 Bheestie, the, at Simla, 321 
 Bhurtpore hills, 152 
 Bindrabund, old Buddhist city, 161 
 now Hindoo, 168 
 Birmingham idols, 567 
 Bisewara (Siva), 562 
 Black Hole of Calcutta, 58 
 Black Town, Calcutta, 19 
 Blood, sacrifice of, 75, 219 
 Blue eyes, 325, 347 
 gentian, 444 
 
 Brahman at home, 531 
 daily life of, 575 
 devotion of, 572 
 lady lecturer, 595 
 manufacture of, 579, 580 ; of all 
 grades, 581 
 mystic thread, 577 
 origin of, 173 
 power of, 85 
 
 sitting at the receipt of custom, 
 532 . 
 
 subdivisions of, 180 
 symbolic arrangement of the 
 sacred thread, 189, 574 
 Brahman and goat, 582 
 Brahmapootra river, 512, 535 
 Brahminical cord, how distinguished, 
 577 . 
 
 Brahmins and Buddhists, number of, 
 
 3 
 
 Brahm-Somaj, 12-14 
 Brazen laver, 529 
 vessels, 559-567 
 Breath, retention of, 572-576 
 practised in China, 573 n. 
 
 Bridge of boats, Cawnpore, il8 
 grass, 392, 393, 446-449 
 making cedar-wood, 392 
 railway, across the Jumna, 76 
 Britain’s gifts to India, 143, 144 
 British Government schools, 199 
 in the Himalayas, 348 
 Briton of the desert, 347 
 Brooch, Himalayan Celtic, 327, 
 417 
 
 Buckra Eed festival, 79, 258 
 Buddha, 192, 194 
 
 images of, 195, 565 
 Buddhist and Catholic ritual, 196 
 monasteries, 161, 197, 198 
 nations, 197 
 Buffalo, 50 
 
 milk, prejudice against, 73 
 Buffaloes, sacrifice of, 3, 4, 555 
 spirits of dead, 401 
 Bullocks, cruelty to, 30 
 dare not kill sick, 293 
 saired, 30 
 
 Bulls, found in Scotland, 550 n. 
 sacred, 88, 560 
 statues of, 529 
 Bungalows, 68 
 Burning ghaut, 569, 586 
 Burial-ground, Agra, 132 
 
INDEX. 
 
 599 
 
 Bussahir, Rajah of, 351 
 
 his summer palace, 373 
 Busy plants, 26S 
 Buttercups, 413 
 Butterflies, 478 
 
 C. 
 
 Cactus, 295, 296, 346, 352, 469 
 Cairns, 452 
 
 Calcutta, Christmas in, 1, 32, 34 
 development of, 26 
 Camel, Bactrian, 273 
 carriage, 274 
 corps, 272 
 
 express messenger, 274 
 foraging, 220 
 noisy, 203, 295 
 wild species unknow n, 273 
 Camp at Meerut, 269 
 Candle, a precious bit, 486 
 Caper, the wild, 346, 351 
 Cart-horses unknow n, 50 
 Caschrom, plough, 402 
 Cashmere gate, Delhi, 203, 204 
 embroidery, 316 
 
 Caste, barber higher than banker, 
 
 181 
 
 how restored, 256 
 its development, 179 
 lost, restored by using sacred cow- 
 dung, 256, 257 71. 
 marks, 23, 24 
 not ancient, 178 
 
 requires ceremonial purity in 
 cooking and drawing water, 
 
 182 
 
 restored or conferred by pass¬ 
 ing through a golden cow, 
 579 
 
 Caste 5 , diverse, wear sacred cord, 
 
 577-579 
 
 low, 181, 182, 358 
 Castor-oil plant, 109 
 Cats, 40 
 
 Afghan, 40 
 
 delight in bare brown feet, 71 
 Simla, 464 
 
 Cattle sacrificed, 183, 1S7, 263, 
 
 504 
 
 slain impiously, 165 
 Caubul merchants, 40 
 Cavagnari, murder of, 2S5 
 
 Cave temples, 153 «. 
 
 Caunpore, 100 
 Cedars of California, 457 n. 
 Cedar-wood, finest upright grove of, 
 453 
 
 house 5 , 403 
 imperishable, 383 
 
 oil- 331 
 
 sacred, 368 
 ten pie, 452 
 value o f , 456 n. 
 
 very gnarled specimens of, 411, 
 
 4*4 
 
 Census of animals and deaths, 63 
 Christians ai.d LuddLists, 196 
 creeds, 200 
 trades, 41 
 
 Celtic Himalayan brooch, 327, 
 417 
 
 Ceylon, how formed, 536 
 Chandnee Chouk, 207 
 Chapatties, “ dull bread,” 342 
 Cheel-pine, 334 
 Chergaon rope bridge, 446 
 Chess, invention of, 156 
 Chickore, hill partridge, 334, 445 
 Children, solemn, 269 
 Chini, happy valley cf, 412 
 Chiretti, a substitute for quinine, 
 379 
 
 Cholera, 378, 387, 466 
 how pioductd, 94 
 Chota Nagpore Mission, 192 
 Christian, a brave, 516 
 Christ an teacher at a fair, 93 
 Chunam, C9 
 
 Church-going, statistics of, 19S n. 
 Churchyaid. Meerut, 236 
 Churuk Poojah, 561 
 Cicada, noisy, 319, 320 
 Clarified butter, sacrifice of, 590 
 Cleanline: s, 20 
 Clematis, w hite, 296 
 Cliff villages, 403 
 Cliffs, stupendous, 156, 394 
 Coal-minesf India, 66, 257 >1. 
 
 Cold, 66, 67 
 
 Colour, gorgeous, 313, 315, 4S7, 
 
 496 
 
 of livers varies with the season, 
 5io 
 
 Convent at Marsourie, 4S9 
 Convents for w omen, 406 
 Convolvulus, 291, 478 
 
6oo 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Cooking, religious ceremonial in, 33 
 Co-operative prayer wheel, 439 
 Cornmill, 20 
 Coughing, natives, 36 
 Cow, caste restored or conferred by 
 passing through a golden, 579 
 Cow-dung, sacred, 20, 24, 188 
 
 used to restore lost caste, 256, 
 257 n. 
 
 Cows’ blood, the Sikh temple at 
 Umritsur defiled with, 499 
 Cremation, 569 
 
 ceremonial of, 587 
 hymn, ancient Aryan, 134 
 in Japan, 139 
 
 legal for 200,000,000 of our 
 fellow subjects, 135 
 not practised by Sikhs, 499 
 skull to be cracked, 588 
 Crows, 71 
 
 Crystal chandeliers, 114 
 Cuckoo, 318 
 
 D. 
 
 Dacoits, 144 n., 173 
 Dagshai, 290 
 Dahl and rice, 33 
 
 Dahlias, wild, luxuriant, 487, 488, 
 496 
 
 Daily life of a devout Brahman, 
 
 575-577 
 
 god (Vishnu), 528 
 (Siva), 562 
 Dak bungalow, 291 
 from Simla, 477 
 gharry, 286 
 Damning at large, 25 
 Dances, sacred, 167, 363,. 537 
 Dandie and doolie, 288, 301, 321 
 Dangerous scramble, 453 
 Darjeeling, 544 
 Deaths 235 
 
 Degrees of homage, 281 
 Debra Doon, 483, 484, 498 
 bamboo avenue at, 505 
 great Sikh tomb at, 499 
 Delhi, 201 
 
 beautiful palace of, 206 
 Deluge, legend of the great, 364 
 Demons much dreaded, 360 
 Deodar, full grown, 383 
 sacred, 368 
 
 Deodar, small at Simla, 305 
 Deserted village, 451 
 Destruction of forests, 331 
 Deterioration of land, 48 
 Detura poison, 36 
 Devil worship, 191 
 Dewali, feast of lanterns, 540 
 Dewan Serai, 61 
 
 Dhobies (laundry-men), 140, 321, 
 
 374 
 
 Dilkoosha, 113 
 
 Dinner party in the wilds, 399 
 service, 39 
 
 Dog, sagacious paidah, 346 
 Dogs’jewelled collars, 164 
 Dogs, leopard, 389, 462 
 
 our puppies, 463-466, 470 
 Domes in Hindoo architecture, 225 
 Domooder river, 66 
 Donkey, the abhorrent, 256, 548 
 a term of reproach, 256 
 Doorga Khoond, 555 
 Doorga, the twelve weapons of, 6 
 Doorga-pooja, festival of, 6 
 Drali cliff, 375 
 Dress, minimum, 263 
 of women, 92 
 Drive at sunset, 37-39 
 Driving divers animals, 275 
 Dromedary, the, 272 
 Drought, 78 
 
 Durbar at Umballa, 279-281 
 Dust of Cawnpore, 99 
 storm, 66 
 
 E. 
 
 Easter morning, 282 
 Echo, the Son of the Rock, 404 
 Edelweiss, 445 
 Edible pine-nuts, 333, 443 
 Elephant, adventures with a wild, 
 542 
 
 a noble, 239 
 at dinner, 238 
 creeper, 115 
 in full dress, 271 
 riding, 58 
 
 Elephants frighten horses, 37 
 Engine worshipped, 44 
 Equality in schools obnoxious to 
 Mohammedans, 200 
 Estimate of proportion, 398 
 
INDEX. 
 
 601 
 
 Evidence often false, 67, 255 
 Exhibition of sketches, 296 
 Eyes, colour of the, 19 
 
 F. 
 
 Fair at Allahabad, 93 
 for horses, 521 
 Hardwar, 520, 521 
 in the forest, 324 
 Rampore, 349 
 
 Faiths of Hindostan, the successive, 200 
 Fakir, 217, 218 
 
 Mohammedan, 217 
 False hair hateful to Hindoo women, 
 88 
 
 Ferns, 469, 487, 496 
 maidenhair, 312 
 Feroze Shah, his works, 213 
 Festival of Doorga-pooja, 7 
 Few converts, few teachers, 199 
 Fifteen-gun rajah, 282 
 Filthy saints, 217 
 Fire beetles, 307, 541 
 
 flies on the Ganges, 539 
 versus earth burial, 137 
 Fish insects, 70 
 
 supply exhausted, 79 
 Flames, leaping through the, 561 
 Fleas in an old house, 460 
 Flies, plague of, 344, 352 
 Floods, 511, 553 
 
 effect of, on arable land, 512 
 Floor decoration, 20 
 Flower supply, 228 
 Flowers, wild, 291, 296, 327, 32S, 
 339 . 469. 470 
 Fog-signals, 276 
 Foliage like England, 50 
 Forest Department, work of, 495 
 fire-, 320 
 
 Forests, destruction of, 455, 494, 
 Forres to London, 230 
 Fort William, 28 
 
 Fossils found at Dehra Doon, 494 
 Futteypore Sicri, 152, 153 
 
 G. 
 
 Game, scarcity of, 419 
 
 Games, imperial, 156 
 
 Ganesa, the elephant-headed god, 556 
 
 Ganga, the goddess, 510 
 
 Ganges, at Hardwar, 509, 534 
 
 Ganges ceases to be holy in 1S95, 94 n. 
 death on the, 83 
 holy water, 513 
 
 water to wash colossal golden 
 statue of Somnath, 146 
 Gangoutri, 510, 534, 535 
 Garnets, granite, 461 
 Gardener, vegetable versus flower, 
 101, 102 
 
 Garwhal district, the, 492 
 Gautama Buddha, 192 
 Geological formation, 380 
 Ghee, 20, 21 n. 
 
 Ghoorka fort, 544 
 regiment, 504 
 Glacial streams, 510 
 Gloves, white cotton, 272 
 Goat caravans, 407 
 Goats, intelligent, 220 
 sacrifice of, 413 
 Goddess mothers, 585 
 Goggra river, 482 
 Goitre, 348 
 
 Golden Temple, Benares, 562 
 Good Friday, 277 
 Gorgeous rajahs, 269, 284 
 Gour, ancient Buddhist city, 53 
 Governor-General, reception of, 278 
 Government House scarlet livery, 72, 
 302 
 
 Gowrah, grand camping ground, 353 
 Gram, 72 
 
 Grand durbar, 279 
 Grape country, 419 
 Grapes, 39 
 
 Grasses, gigantic, 509-533 
 pink sirkee, 512 
 Great Mogul, the, 205 
 Guru worshipped at Umritsur, 500 
 
 H. 
 
 HABSIDAM, the retention of breath, 
 572 , 576 
 
 practised in China, 573 n. 
 
 Hair, offering of, 89 
 Ilanuman, the monkey-god, his festi¬ 
 val, 529 
 
 Hardwar, 508, 5 13-515, 533 
 great fair at, 520 
 awful tragedy at, 523 
 Haricules, the, 520 n. 
 
 Harvest of heads of grain only, 372 
 a custom in ancient Britain, 372 
 
602 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Hatto forest, 329, 332, 338 
 storm in, 471, 472 
 Havelock, 113, 122 
 Heaven localised, 401 
 Heavens and hells, Hindoo, 189 
 Hell dogs, 576 
 Hell, serpent rulers of, 189 
 Hibiscus-matabilis , 505 
 Highland dress, 111 
 Himalaya, 267 «. 
 altitudes of, 299 
 Kylas peaks of, 400 
 rarefied air of, 408 
 snow-level of, 409 
 the Pa'ace of Snow, 539 
 Himalayan Celtic brooch, 327, 417 
 Hindoo and Mohammedan diversities 
 in shaving, 22 
 architecture perplexing, 224 
 deeply religious, 9, 527 
 domestic life, 308 
 drama, 308 
 
 gods number 339,000,000, 177 
 homes, women’s quarters in, 113 
 houses, internal arrangements of, 
 
 112 
 
 mythology bewildering, 327 
 self-denial, 8 
 trinity, 165, 174, 574 
 Hiouen Thsang, a Chinese pilgrim, 
 90, 161 ti. 
 
 Hodson (of Delhi), 205, 214 
 Holi festival, 257 
 Holy fair, 86, 92 
 food, 184 
 
 water, to swear by, 514 
 Hollyhocks, 445 
 
 Hooghly at Calcutta, incessant dredg¬ 
 ing necessary, 37 
 must sacred river, 535 
 Horse-chestnut, 339, 373 
 Horse fair at Hardwar, 521 
 Horse-shoes, luck of 80, 81, 146 
 Horses, cart, unknown, 50 
 dyed pink, 269 
 sale of Government, 267 
 8000 owned by Brahmans at 
 Benares, 266, 557 
 Plowdahs, elephant, 270 
 Hubble-bubble, 36 
 Humaioon, the emperor,his tomb, 213 
 Hump, bullock, 29 
 Hunting, a Frenchman’s estimate of, 
 279 
 
 I. 
 
 Ice pillars, 411 
 
 Iconoclast, a Mohammedan, 15S 
 Idol of an hour, 567, 571 
 Idols, made of special metals, 567 
 pocket, 514 
 serpent, 4 
 
 unconsecrated and broken, 6, 7 
 Images, use of, forbidden, 143 
 Indian bedroom, 15 
 India-rubber trees, 56 
 Indrapraslh, Delhi, 212 
 Insects in the rains, 474 
 Intermarriage caste prohibitions, 180 
 Iron pillar, Delhi, 225 
 Irrigation works, 517 
 Itinerant tradesmen, 316 
 
 J- 
 
 Jackal (goddess Doorga), 60 
 Jagannath car, 431 
 
 lord of the world, 183-186 
 pilgrimage, 95 
 Jains, 162 
 Jakko, Simla, 312 
 Jampan, 2S8, 301 
 Jampanee dress, 302 
 Jehanari, 150 
 
 her grassy grave, 215 
 Jesamine, wild, 328 
 Jewels of bathers, 90 
 Jugglers, 243, 244 
 Jula, rope bridge, 392, 393 
 Junagadh rock, 196 
 Jumma Musjid, Delhi, 20S 
 Friday service in, 211 
 Jumna river, Delhi, 202 
 its great fair, 85 
 junction with the Ganges, 73 
 sacred cities on the, 168 
 source of the, 510 
 
 Jungle, march through the, 50S ; the 
 return, 541 
 
 K. 
 
 Kali, the goddess, 5 
 temple of, 2-4 
 Kalka, Himalayas, 288 
 Kanthal, near Hardwar, 538 
 
INDEX. 603 
 
 Kasi, ancient Benares, 548 
 Kharso oak, 334 
 Khonds, 171 
 
 Khuda, or sacred ark, 361-371, 436 
 Kid sacrifice, 4 
 Kid', sacrifice of 4000, 585 
 playful, 293 
 
 Kilba, temple at (frontispiece), 452 
 village of, deserted, 451 
 Kilter basket, 323 
 Kincob gold brocade, 566 
 Kites, 26, 27, 31 
 Kol mission, 191 
 Kolin pine, 334 
 Kookas, Sikh sect, 503 
 
 avenge the slaughter of cattle, 499 
 Kookeree, 504 
 
 Kookes, aboriginal tribe, 171 
 Kooshroo Bagh, 79 
 Kootub-Minar, 206, 219, 221, 227 
 Kootub-ud-deen, 223 
 Kotghur mission, 330, 341, 345 
 Kotghur, return to, 470 
 Krishna, 165 
 
 avatars of, 166 
 his heaven, 168 
 his miraculous birth, 166 
 Kunai forest, 453 
 Kunawur valley, 297 
 Kunkur, 99 
 Kylas peaks, 400 
 Kyrie Ghat, 293 
 
 L. 
 
 Ladakh houses, 4C8 
 merchants, 407 
 
 Lady lecturer, a Brahman, 595 
 Lama monasteries, 433 
 Landour, 483, 488 
 Landslip, 414 
 Langour monkey', 309 
 Languages, diversity of, 170 
 Larkspur, blue, 339 
 Lawrence, death of Sir Alexander, 375 
 Sir Henry, 115-119 
 Leeches, 475 
 Lepers, 186 
 
 Leprosy, how cured, 250 
 Level ground, none, 293 
 Limited wanderings, 473 
 Literature, god of, 557 
 Liver complaint aggravated in the 
 hills, 312 
 
 Lizard, Mohammedan superstition 
 regarding, 68 
 
 Locomotive diamond mines, 284 
 Locusts, 46S 
 Loodiana railway, 455 
 Lucknow, no 
 
 the relief of, 121 
 Luminous grasses, 307 
 
 M. 
 
 Magh Mela, 85 
 Magisterial court, 67 
 Magnetism, 3, 524 
 Mahadeo (Siva), 190 
 Maha-devah, becomes identified with 
 Siva, 190 
 
 the great god Siva, 547, 550 
 Maharajah Duleep Singh, 503 
 Mahasso fores% 325 
 Mahmoud sacks Somnath, 145 
 Muttra and Bindraband, 164 
 Mahratta wedding, 590 
 Mahseer, a fish, 496 
 Maidenhair fern, carpet of, 312 
 Maizong cliff, 412 
 Mango brick, 243 
 Manufactures, hmd-work, 2^9 
 March to Umballa, 2^5 
 “ Mariage de convenanre,” 5S2 
 Marigold neck garlan Is, 4, 75, 526, 
 532, 555. 55 8 . 561, 590 
 Markets in Calcutta, 17 
 Massacre Ghaut, Cawnpore, 104 
 Massourie, 483, 488, 491 
 Mate, 301 
 May Day, 319 
 Medical mystery, 524 
 Medicine-travellers, 379, 387 
 Meerut, 229 
 
 fine tomb at, 262 
 
 Meriah, human sacrifice, 171, 172 
 Metals sacred to special gods, 567 
 Midnight mass, 33 
 Military review at Umballa, 282 
 Milk, boiling, used in infanticide, 557 
 charms, 251, 252 
 festival, t'ahari, 492 
 jars, 592 
 
 offered to serpent', 250 
 rendered w rlhless, 338 
 Milking, 73 
 
 Mimosa, yellow blossom, 64 
 Minar, or seven s.sters, 68 
 
604 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mirage, 382 
 
 Missions, good done by, 199 
 Mist, at Simla, 473 
 
 deathlike silence of, 468 
 in the forest, 471 
 Mistletoe, 333 
 
 Mohammedans losing office, 200 
 Mohan Pass, the, 482 
 Monkey tank, Meerut, 260 
 worship, 259 
 Monkeys, 259 
 
 at Benares, 555 
 at Hardwar, 513 
 at Kanthal, 539 
 at Simla, 309-311 
 king of the, 442 
 put to flight, 465 
 Moorshedabad, 52 
 Morinda-pine, 333, 368 
 Morning calls, 231 
 
 Mosques always open for prayer, 210 
 Motee Musjid, 149 
 Mountain mule battery, 284, 293 
 Mount Meru, mythical, 535, 536 
 Mud, sacred Ganges, 570, 571, 586 
 Muggers, 76 
 
 Mussuk, buffalo-skin for water, 18, 
 107, 321 
 
 Mutton club, the, 72 
 Muttis, prayer terrace, 433 
 Muttra, an old Buddhist city, now 
 Hindoo, 161, 168 
 
 N. 
 
 Nachar, forest of, 386 ; return to, 466 
 Nadir Shah, pillage by, 206 
 Nagpore, “ the serpent city,” 249 
 Nairn, Gaelic and English, 170 
 Nalanda, theological college for 
 io,ooo Buddhist students, 161 n. 
 Names, objection to utter, 405 
 Nana Sahib, 103 
 Narkunda, beautiful, 329 
 Nawaub Nazim, 52, 61, 66 
 Naza Bazi, “ tent-pegging,” 77 
 Nerbudda, most sacred river, 87 
 Neritt, a gorge on the Sutlej, 346 
 Nests, pendant, 51 
 New Year’s eve, 62 
 Night festival, Benares, 568 
 march from Hardwar, 541 
 to Massourie, 485 
 
 Nirvana, 193 
 
 Nizam-ud-deen, tomb of the saint, 
 21 $ 
 
 Noise, ceaseless, in the forest, 460 
 Noisy Hindoo voices, 17 
 river, 348, 466, 470 
 quarrels, 255 
 Noor-Mahal, 128 
 Nynee Tal, 543 
 
 O. 
 
 Oath on Ganges water, 514, 570 
 Observatories of stone at Benares, 565 
 at Delhi, 219 
 Offertory, 34 
 
 Oil-makers in Telingana, 180 
 Oil of cedar, 331 
 Om-mi-to-fuh, 429 
 Opera-glass confers delight on all 
 manner of nations, 415 
 a traveller’s best introduction, 415 
 Opium, 339-341 
 Oriental almsgiving, 91 
 hospitality, 554 
 
 Ostrich-eggs in an Indian mosque, 
 
 21S 
 
 P. 
 
 Pacheesee, human ches=, 156 
 Paddy-birds, 50 
 Pahari belle, a, 375 
 
 funeral customs in Ganvhal, 492 
 jewels, 326 
 
 offerings of horns, 452 
 oil scare, 485 
 songs like Gaelic, 415 
 timber coolies, 318 
 usury and slavery, 493 
 very dirty, 321 
 women handsome, 325, 457 
 Paharis, frugal highlanders, 357 
 good escort, 344 
 harvest, 372 
 heaven, 401 
 independent, 405 
 lax caste of, 357 
 love of home, 404 
 proverbially honest, 356 
 strong cheery girls, 380 
 wash only twice a year, 361 
 
INDEX. 
 
 605 
 
 Paharis, wedding feast, 413 
 worship, 366, 435, 439 
 Pangi, village on the cliffs, 414-422 
 Paradise of blossom, 328 
 Parental discipline, 591 
 Parrots, familiar spirits of man-eating 
 demons, 360 
 Patience, 25 
 
 Paul, Miss, at home, 450 
 Peacock throne, Delhi, 205 
 Pearl Mosque, 149 
 Peel, Sir William, 114 
 Pebbles, sacred symbolic, 527 
 Pheasants, Himalayan, 336 
 Phosphoric plants, 307 
 Picture-making forbidden in the 
 Koran, 262 
 Pigeon fanciers, 49 
 Pig-sticking, 62-65 
 Pigs’ blood, mosque defiled by, 499 
 Pilgrimage, fifty-one centres of, 5 
 Pilgrimages of Europe and Asia, 97 
 to Allahabad, 85 
 to Benares, 551, 586 
 to Hardwar, 520 
 to Puri, 95, 185 
 
 to the source of the Ganges, 537 
 Pilgrims to various shrines, 66 
 Pine-cones sacred, 368 
 Pipal tree, truth-compelling, 80 
 Plantain, 506 
 Pocket idols, 514 
 
 prayer wheel, 424 
 Poindah forest, 381 
 Polyandry, 406, 580 
 Polygamy, 405 
 Poppy-fields, 339 
 
 Population, average per square mile, 
 48 
 
 Porcupine quills, 159 
 Post-horses in India, 287 
 Pots broken daily, 216 
 Potter’s field, for burial, 217 
 Poultry-plucking made easy, 291 
 Pradakshina, see Sunwise turns. 
 Prayaga, “ the confluence,” 85 
 Prayer of faith, 524 
 
 wheel, Buddhist, 424-441 
 Prince’s feather, fields of scarlet, 469, 
 478 
 
 Propitiation of evil spirits, 259, 369 • 
 “Pukka,” “cutcha,” hi 
 P unjab, 202 
 Punkah in church, 35 
 
 Puranas, 197 
 
 Purgatory, Buddhist, Hindoo, 187- 
 190 
 
 Puri pilgrimage, 95, 185 
 
 Q- 
 
 Quarrels, noisy, 255 
 Quicksilver prevents transmigration, 
 442 n. 
 
 R. 
 
 Railway bridges, 76 
 journey, 43, 46 
 tickets, animals, 266 
 Rainbows, 313 
 Rainfall, 409 
 Rains, the, 418 
 Rajah Rammohun Roy, 13 
 
 Sir Deo Naraien Singh, 553, 593 
 Rama, incarnation of Vishnu, 165 
 sacred name of greeting, 17, 349 
 Ramazan, 79 
 
 Ramnee forest, 61-66, 459 
 Ramnuggur, 548 
 Rampore, 349-351 
 Raneegunge, 66 
 Rebsch, Herr, 342, 470 
 Red sandstone, 124, 160, 164, 201- 
 202, 209 
 
 charm of the colour, 224 
 Religious services for the dead, 189 
 Residency, Lucknow, 115 
 Review at Umballa, 282 
 Riding, dangerous, 323, 329 
 Rig Veda, 173, 174 
 Ritual of Roman Catholic and Budd¬ 
 hist, 196 
 River burial, 133 
 
 Rivers, divers methods of crossing, 
 107-108 
 
 Rhododendron jam, 317 
 trees, 297, 312 
 white, 334 
 
 Road-making along cliffs, 393-396 
 Rogi bungalow, 398-401 
 cliffs, 393-396 
 
 Rope bridge across the Sutlej, 446 449 
 Rosaries, Buddhist, 437 
 Vishnu, 529 
 
 Roses, luxuriant wild, 327, 328, 470 
 Rudra, i.e. Siva, 576 
 
6c6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Runjeet Singh, 502 
 Running grooms or footmen, 38 
 Russell, Dr., his pets, 312 ; and sport, 
 335 
 
 Rye-pine, 333, 339 
 S. 
 
 Sacred cord worn by various castes, 
 
 577, 579 
 
 wood and cones, 368 
 Sacrifices of beasts, 4, 7 
 
 cf blood symbolised by red paint, 
 75 219' 
 
 of cock, goat-, and chicken, 191 
 Saint Si non Stylites, 88 
 Sakya-Muni, 192 
 Salutation, form of, 17 
 Sanskrit books a de id letter, 142, 173 
 Santhals, 191 
 
 Sarnath, ancient Buddhist city, 564 
 Scale of measurement, 398 
 Scape-goat, Meerut, 258 
 Scarcity of game, 334 
 Scarlet grain crops, 469-478 
 rhododendron, 297, 312 
 Sceptical books, 11 
 Schools, equality of scholars, 200 
 
 effect of, in breaking down caste 
 prejudice, 200 
 Scorpion bite, 525 
 
 Scotch names borne by Eurasians, 288 
 Scripture wheel of Japan, 441 n. 
 Secundra, Akhar’s tomb at, 152 
 Secundra Bagh, Lucknow, 115 
 Sedan chairs, 289 
 Seharanpore, 481 
 gardens, 267 
 Government stud at, 266 
 Selim Ghur, Delhi, 202 
 Serpent Ananta, 551 
 bites fatal, 251 
 charmers, 245 
 eating a living, 246 
 funeral, 251 
 god, Schesnag, 226 
 idols, 4 
 rulers, 189 
 
 slain by Krishna, 167 
 Serpents, three demon, 189 
 wall of, 190 
 
 Servants, native, 252-256, 265, 301, 
 
 344 
 
 Shah Jehan, 126-128 
 
 Shah-Jehan-abad, 202 
 Shatool Pass, 461 
 Shaving, Europeans, 16 
 
 a child’s head, a religious act, 586 
 Hindoo and Mohammedan di¬ 
 versities in, 22 
 pi’grims, 88 
 
 Sheitan ka Bungalow, 343, 347 
 Shepherd, Himalayan, 3^9 
 Shere Shah, emperor, his work, 213 
 Shoes, patent leather, 37 
 Sikh not cremated, 499 
 tenets, 500 
 
 tomb at Dehra Doon, 499 
 Silence of mist, 468 
 Silk weavers, 316 
 Silver gates of Taj, 130 
 Simla, 298 
 
 from our verandah, 313 
 in the rains, 474 
 kitten, our, 464 
 return to, 473 
 society, 305 
 wild thyme at, 317 
 Sirdhana Roman Catholic Cathedral, 
 264 
 
 Siva and his wife, 5 
 
 as Maha-devah, 547 
 as Rudra, 576 
 Benares the city of, 547 
 complex nature of, 546 
 h aven of, 401 
 his mark, 23, 550 
 the destroyer, 165 
 Siwalik hills, 487, 493 
 fossils in, 494 
 Six-syllabled charm, 427 
 Sketching in mLt, 338 
 popular, 262 
 
 Skinner, Colonel, mixed faith, 208 
 Skull caps embroidered for simll boys, 
 566 
 
 cracked during cremation, 588 
 of a Lama used as a medicine 
 cup, 443 
 
 Slippers left outside, 532 
 Small-pox, goddess of, 260, 585 
 Smokers, 385 
 Snake stone, 247 
 Snakes rarely seen, 452 
 three demon, 189 
 Snapping the fingers, 572 
 Snow-blindness, 410 
 how to prevent, 410 
 
INDEX. 
 
 607 
 
 Snowy range, 298 
 
 Sooraj-oo-Dowlah, 53, 59 ; his tomb, 
 
 58 
 
 Somnath, golden statue of, 146, 147 
 sandal-wood gates of, 145 
 Spinning locomotive, 358 
 Sport nil , 335, 419 
 Sportsman’s paradise, 220 
 Squirrel, grey, 71 
 
 flying. 45 2 
 
 Stone, none near Calcutta, 43 
 
 Storm at Kyrie Ghat, 295 
 
 Storms in the forests, 466, 467, 472 
 
 Strawberries 333, 402 
 
 Study for Murillo, 418 
 
 Suicides, 61, 91 
 
 Sunmer, life in, 234 
 
 Sunset in the Himalayas, 315 
 
 Sunday work, 375 n. 
 
 Sungri forest, 383 
 Sunwise, Contra, 188, 363 
 Sunwise turns, 359, 430 
 Sunwise turns round basil shrub, 
 584 
 
 Benares, 551 
 
 rivers, from source to mouth and 
 back, 584 
 sacred fire, 590 
 serpent shrine, 250 
 temple, 529 
 temple of Kali, 4 
 
 Surgical skill and medical science of 
 ancient Buddhist India, 161 n. 
 Sutlej, 346 348, 378, 397, 400 
 levels of the, 446 n. 
 
 Swallows, 317 
 Swastika, 23 
 Sword-swallowing, 243 
 
 T. 
 
 Tailor’s book of patterns, 438 
 Taj, Agra, beauty of, 124-128 
 Tamarinds, 79 
 Tarandah re-t house, 377 
 Tartar females, 442 
 Tattooing, 24 
 Tea plantations, 345 
 Teeth scraping, 21, 504 
 Telegraph at Hard war, 517 
 Temptation, how to resist, 277 
 Tent club, 61 
 
 Tent life delightful, 336, 353 
 
 Tents, tiny, 322 
 Terai jungle, 496 
 Terraced fields, 290, 402 
 Thandarh rest-house, 343, 470 
 Therm-antidote, 234 
 Thibet, life in, 441 
 Thibet road, 322, 349, 350 
 Thibetan traders, 348, 379, 407, 
 442 
 
 Th gh-bone of a Lama, 438, 443 
 Things offered to idols—city butchers, 
 4, 555 
 
 Threshing-floor, 372 
 
 Thugs, 144;/., 173; see also Dacoits. 
 
 Thumb-licking, 89 
 
 Thunder devil, 438 
 
 Thyme, wild, at Simla, 317 
 
 Tiger-hunt in Benares, 552 
 
 Tiles, brilliant colour, 221 
 
 Timber transport, 318 
 
 Tinder-box, 416 
 
 Tobacco poisoned with detura, 36 
 Togluck-abad, Delhi, 212 
 Traders, itinerant, 316, 241 
 Trades, hereditary, 240 
 Transmigration taught by Brahmans, 
 174 
 
 by Buddhists, 162, 193 
 Travelling by dak, 2S7 
 Tree wedlock, 218 
 “Trespass” in the Himalayas, 490 
 Tribes, how diverse, 170 
 Troupers of women, 92, 275 
 Truth compelling trees, 80 
 Tulasi shrub sacred, 547, 570 
 why held sacred, 584, 586 
 “ Tulchan,” 421 
 
 Turban, enormous length of cloth in 
 
 a, 37 
 
 Two-handed rajahs, 281 
 Tyndal, 301 
 
 U. 
 
 Umballa, 267, 481 
 Umbrellas of grass, Benares, 5O9 
 of state, 206 
 Umritsur, 500 
 
 “ Unbleachable ” character, 356 
 Unclean food — pork to Mussulmans, 
 fowls to Hindoos, 499 
 Unexpected meetings, 318 
 Urni rest-hou-e, 396 
 
6 o8 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 V. 
 
 Vain repetitions, 428 «. 
 
 Varuna, Lord of the Ocean, 176 
 Varying altitudes of rarefied air, 408 
 of snow, 409 
 
 Vedas, Aryan hymns, 174 
 Vegetarian nation, 78 
 Vegetation of divers altitudes, 333, 
 353, 397, 444 
 
 Vehicles drawn by animals, 18, 19, 
 28, 274 
 
 carried by men, 288, 302 
 Verandah life at Simla, 313-317 
 Virginia creeper, 333, 339 
 Vishnu, avatars of, 166 
 beloved, 165 
 as Jagannath, 183 
 his mark, 23 ; the wheel, 550 
 his wife, Lakshmi, 165 
 incarnate as a hog, 65, 166 
 rosaries, 5 2 9 
 Voices, quarrelsome, 17 
 
 W. 
 
 Walnut festival, 367 
 
 Himalayan, two sorts, 333 
 Wanga river, 390 
 Wangtu bridge, 391, 396 
 Water—ceremonial purity necessary, 
 182 ; but faith of no conse¬ 
 quence, 504, 563, 592, 570, 571 
 nurse, Simla, 303 
 praise wheel, 434 
 supply, 82 
 
 at Simla, 321 
 
 Water-cresses, 373, 413 
 Well, a loathsome, 562 
 at Cawnpore, 100 
 Persian wheel, 267 
 Wells, 60-83, 216 
 Wheel sacred, 45 
 to Buddha, 431 
 to Vishnu, 550 
 
 Widow-burning not authorised by 
 ancient custom, 595 
 Willows, 373 
 Wind praise wheel, 435 
 Wolf nurses, Simla, 109 
 Women of India, 594 
 Women’s quarters in Hindoo homes, 
 113 
 
 Wood-carving, Simla, 304 
 Woollen Himalayan stuff, 352, 416, 
 417 
 
 Writer’s ink-horn, 418 
 Writing, patron of good, 557 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yak, 420 
 
 Yama, Lord of Death, 174 
 Yawn, danger of a, 360 
 Yogi, Hindoo sacred medicine, 4, 87 
 5 2 3, 532, 533 
 cave-dwelling, 539 
 of Benares, 557 
 yellow robe, 532 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zenana missions, 593 
 Zoological fair, 521 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS.