The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Months of My Life, by J. F. Foster
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Title: Three Months of My Life
Author: J. F. Foster
Release Date: November 30, 2004 [EBook #14213]
Language: English
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[Transcriber's Note: At the conclusion of this diary, the author writes:
"If these notes should ever be written out by my relations after my
death--for I am now like to die, let me beg that the many mistakes in
spelling, consequent upon the hurry and roughness of the writing, may by
corrected and not set down to ignorance." The relations may indeed have
corrected many errors, but many remain, and they have been left as in
the original.]
THREE MONTHS OF MY LIFE.
A DIARY
OF THE LATE J.F. FOSTER, ASSISTANT-SURGEON, HER MAJESTY'S 36TH FOOT.
_Edited by LIZZIE A. FREETH._
GUERNSEY:
LE LIEVRE, PRINTER, STAR-OFFICE, 10, BORDAGE STREET.
LONDON: SIMPKIN & MARSHALL
1873.
I DEDICATE,
_Firstly,_
MY GRATITUDE TO GOD--
FOR HIS MERCY IN PRESERVING ME THUS FAR,
AND BRINGING ME SAFELY HOME AFTER
SEVERAL YEARS SERVICE IN INDIA,
TO MEET AGAIN ALL (SAVE ONE) THOSE MOST
DEAR TO ME.
_And Secondly,_
MY BOOK TO MY PARENTS,
WITH THE CERTAIN AND HAPPY KNOWLEDGE
THAT THEY WILL READ WITHOUT CRITICISM
AND ONLY WITH AFFECTIONATE INTEREST,
THE ACCOUNT OF MY THOUGHTS AND EXPERIENCES
WHILE WANDERING IN A REMOTE
AND LOVELY CORNER OF
THE EARTH.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
In laying the following pages before the public, I do so with a feeling
that they will be read with interest, not only by those who knew the
writer, but those to whom the scenes described therein are known, and
also those who appreciate a true description of a country which they may
never have the good fortune to see. We are all familiar with Kashmir in
the "fanciful imagery of Lalla Rookh," at the same time may not object
to reading an account--with a ring of truth in it--of that lovely land,
lovely and grand, beyond the power of poets to describe as it really
is, so travellers say. Readers will see that Mr. Foster intended to have
published this Diary himself had he been spared to reach England, he has
offered any apology that is necessary, so I will say nothing further
than to state, the daily entries were kept in a pocket-book written in
pencil, occasionally a word is not quite legible, that will account for
any little inaccuracy. After being two years at Elizabeth College,
Guernsey, under the Rev. A. Corfe, Mr. Foster entered St. George's
Hospital, as Student of Medicine, he received there in his last year the
"Ten Guinea Prize" for General Proficiency. From St. George's he went to
Netley, and on leaving that he served for a short time in Jersey, with
the 2nd Battallion 1st Royals, and 1st Battallion 6th Royals, after
which he embarked for India, where from February, 1868, to the beginning
of 1869, he served with the following Regiments, &c., 91st Highlanders,
at Dum Dum; F Battery C. Brigade Royal Horse Artillery, at Benares; 27th
Inniskillings, at Hazareebagh, Bengal Depôt, Chinsurah; Detachment 58th
Regiment, at Sahibgunge; Head-Quarters 58th Regiment, at Sinchal, again
at the Bengal Depôt Chinsurah; Head-Quarters 107th Regiment, at
Allahabad; Detachment 107th Regiment, at Fort Allahabad; G Battery 11th
Brigade Royal Artillery, at Cawnpore; Left Wing 36th Regiment,
Moradabad; Head-Quarters 36th Regiment, Peshawur, from whence
ultimately we find he started for Kashmir in the hope of regaining his
health, a vain hope as events proved, as he died on the passage home at
Malta. During the course of publication I have received many letters
from people who were personally acquainted with Mr. Foster who had met
him at home and abroad, from the tone of which letters I gather he was
held in the highest possible estimation as a friend, a medical man, and
an officer. I am indebted to the kindness of his father, Dr. John L.
Foster, of this island, for being allowed to publish these interesting
memorials of one who had now passed "To where beyond these voices there
is peace."
LIZZIE A. FREETH.
Montpellier, Guernsey, Nov. 1873.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
This Work requires few prefatory remarks. I have transcribed without
alteration, the Diary that I kept during my visit to Kashmir. It may
seem a strange jumble of description and sentiment, jocularity and
seriousness. During the greater part of each day I enjoyed perfect rest,
smoking and thinking--sometimes soberly, often I fear idly--and for mere
occupation sake, my thoughts were written as they arose. My mind as
influenced by scene or incident, is fully exposed in these pages, and
while I have concealed nothing, neither have I added to that which I
originally indited. I am necessarily, and indeed intentionally
egotistical, because I write for those who will chiefly value a personal
narrative. Still, I am not ashamed if others see my book, although I
would deprecate their criticism by begging them to remember that I only
offer it for the perusal of those near and dear to me.
INTRODUCTION.
In the early morning of Midsummer's-day, 1868, I might have been seen
slowly wending my way towards the office of the Deputy Inspector General
of Hospitals, at Peshawur--for the purpose of appearing before the
standing Medical Committee of the station, and having an enquiry made
concerning the state of my health. A Dooley followed me lest my strength
should prove inadequate to the task of walking a quarter of a mile. But
let me make my description as short as the Committee did their enquiry.
My face, as white as the clothes I wore, told more than my words could,
and I was hardly required to recount how that one burning May-day I was
called at noon to visit a sick woman, and that while all other Europeans
were in their closed and darkened bungalows with punkahs swinging, and
thermautidotes blowing cool breezes, I went forth alone on my medical
mission to encounter the fierce gaze of the baneful sun, and was
overpowered by its fiery influence, or how that I laid a weary month on
the sick bed, tormented by day with a never ceasing headache, and by
night with a terrible dread, worse than any pain, or to conclude, how
the deadly climate of that notoriously evil station afforded me no
prospect of improvement. This relation was scarcely needed to procure
me a certificate, stating that three months leave of absence to Murree
was absolutely essential for my recovery, and a recommendation that I
might be allowed to proceed immediately in anticipation of the leave
being granted. So the next evening saw me start from Peshawur for Rawul
Pindee, in a Dâk Gharie, accompanied by my dog "Silly" and my Madrapee
servant or "Boy." Onwards we sped at a gallop, the horses being changed
every six miles, through Nowshera, the furnace; over the rapid and icy
cold Indus by boat; past Fort Attock, the oven in which our soldiers are
done to death; and Hussan Aboul of Lallah Rooke celebrity; arriving at
the French Hotel at Pinder, ten miles from Peshawur the following
morning. That day I called upon the Officers of the 6th Foot, with whom
I had served in Jersey, and was persuaded to dine at mess. A melancholy
dinner it was for me, meeting old friends whom I had not seen for so
long. Yet not possessing energy enough for conversation or feeling the
spirit of "Hail fellows, well met." I felt that my moody silence and
ghostlike appearance (for I was dressed in black) threw a gloom over
them. This was no doubt a morbid fancy as also was perhaps the idea that
they looked at me with pitying eyes. But these feelings seized me, and
increased till they became unbearable, and I was glad to escape to my
Hotel.
"THREE MONTHS OF MY LIFE."
A DIARY.
JULY 4th, 1868.--Started from Murree for Kashmir at 5.30 a.m. Bell,
Surgeon 36th Regt. [Since deceased] came with me four miles. Walked on
expecting the dandy to overtake me, but it did not, and I marched all
the way, nine miles up a steep hill to Khaira Gullee, where I halted and
put up in one of the old sheds formerly used by the working party when
the road was being made. I am not tired, though my left heel is
blistered, which is fair considering I have not walked half a mile for
more than a month. The road is excellent and the scenery fine, the Khuds
being sometimes deep, but nothing like the eastern Himalayas. The forest
too is quite different, fir trees predominating here. Saw many beautiful
birds, and regretted I had not brought my gun. In the evening a
thunderstorm came on with a cold wind from the north, so I made a good
fire with a few fir logs. In the middle of the night the storm became
very violent, and large hailstones fell.
JULY 5th.--Got away at sunrise, the rain having quite cleared off, and
marched on to Doonga Gullee, up a hill to an elevation of 9,000 feet,
and then down again to about 7,000; then up a final steep to Doonga
Gullee, 8,000 feet above the sea. The Khuds much grander very deep and
precipitous, sometimes falling one or two thousand feet from the edge of
the road almost perpendicularly. But the hills are too close together to
allow the valleys to be termed magnificent. Reached Doonga Gullee at 10
a.m. The length of last march, eleven miles--the road, a good military
one, has been cut in the face of the mountain. Put up at the Dâk
Bungalow, and dined with the officers of the working party; among them
Heath, of the 88th, and Leggatt and Lyons, of the 77th, whom I knew. A
number of tents are pitched here for the working parties from the 19th
and 77th Regiments (road making). I was carried part of the march in my
dandy--a piece of carpet gathered at each end and hooked to a pole,--the
pole being carried on the shoulders of two men. I swung below it just
off the ground, and could often look down a vast depth between my knees.
My first pickled tongue, cooked the day before yesterday was fly-blown
at breakfast this morning. This may seem a trifling note, but it is
ominous I fear for the whole of my salted stores.
JULY 6th.--Got up at 4 o'clock and marched on to Bugnoota, a distance
of thirteen miles. The first four miles a slight rise, and then a rapid
descent all the rest of the way. The road is much narrower, only a mule
track in fact, I walked twelve miles, and then felt tired, and had a
headache afterwards. Pitched my tent in a tope, (a grove of trees) in
company with Dr. and Mrs. Holmes, of Rohat, whom I did not know. Slight
rain in the middle of the day, but it cleared off towards evening. Felt
all right after an hour's sleep and took a stroll before dinner. Scenery
grand, tent pitched on the edge of a deep gorge at the bottom of which
is a mountain stream, the hills rising abruptly on the opposite side.
JULY 7th.--Marched on to Abbottabad at sunrise, down hill to the river,
and then along its course for two miles over very rough and fatiguing
ground, the river having to be forded twice. In rainy weather this is
very dangerous as its rush is so impetuous. Up hill again then down into
the plain of Abbottabad, 4,000 feet above the sea. Distance twelve miles
though only put down eight in the route. Met the General at the bottom
of the hill. Put up at the Dâk Bungalow, and met Ford, 88th, and De
Marylski, R.A., returning from Kashmir, got some hints from them.
Abbottabad is a small cantonment on a large plain surrounded by bare
mountains, a notice is posted in my room warning travellers not to go
unarmed; so I'll gird on my Kookery to-morrow. A Kookery is a formidable
native knife, about eighteen inches long and over two inches wide,
carried in a peculiar way, sheep and goats heads come off very easily at
a single blow from it. Much hotter down here, the sun powerful after 10
o'clock, but Punkahs not necessary. This is the Head-Quarters of the
Punjab Frontier force. A pity they do not have an English Regiment
stationed here as it is a very pleasant place as regards climate. Snow
in winter, and this the warmest time of the year quite bearable.
Brigadier gone to the _hills_ for the _hot weather._ Took in supplies of
bread and butter and purchased a pair of chuplus or sandals for
marching in, as boots hurt my feet.
JULY 8th.--A long tedious march of nearly fifteen miles to Mansera, put
down in the guide as a level plain road, but having a good many ups and
downs. One of my sandals broke, and I was obliged to ride in the dandy
about half way. Some difficulty occurred in getting my baggage off as
the Coolies did not come. Left my boy to manage it, he came in about
noon with two ponies, I shall not pay for them yet, and then they will
come on with me. A warmer day than yesterday. Mountains rising up in
front, which I shall begin to ascend to-morrow if I make the whole march
of twenty miles. Snow visible above all. The real work of the trip will
now soon commence. The marches hitherto have been child's play compared
with those to come. Mansera is only a native village, but there is a Dâk
Bungalow, in which I am now. Met Captain Ellis, of the 4th Hussars,
returning from Kashmir, and had a talk with him. There are _two_ routes
open to me, he advises the one which yesterday I was warned against by
the other fellows. They have been over both roads, yet do not agree as
to which is the best. Ellis was disappointed with Kashmir, but he has
only been a few months in India, and has not yet forgotten England, for
I expect that Kashmir after all, is only so very pleasant, by contrast
with the plains of India.
JULY 9th.--Started an hour before sunrise and did the whole march to
Ghuri, distance nineteen miles. Walked the greater part of the way in
sandals and socks, which I find the most comfortable way of getting on.
First half of the march along the level to the foot of the hill, then an
undulating road through a pine forest, the latter half easy walking
owing to the ground being covered with fallen fir leaves which made it
as soft as a carpet. A fine view from the top of hill, looking down to
Ghuri. The river Ghuri, a mountain torrent seen for a long distance
rushing with a great roar over its rocky bed, bounded on each side by
high hills, and above by mountains covered with snow, from the melting
of which it arises. The water is consequently icy cold, and my tub at
the end of the march was highly invigorating. Put up at the Dâk
Bungalow, a neat, clean, furnished building, standing on the right bank
of the river, which is crossed just in front by a very fair suspension
bridge. I can trace my route for to-morrow, for several miles, and I
look at it with dismay as it ascends a terribly steep hill. There are
two other men in the Bungalow, but I do not know who they are. I have
not mentioned my equipment. It is so simple that a few lines will tell
all. Two suits of old clothes, three flannel shirts, two warm under
flannels, two pair of boots, "a light pair and a heavy pair of
ammunitions," socks, handkerchiefs, &c., Mackintosh, warm bedding, a
small tent called a "shildaree," a two-rolled ridge tent, about eight
feet square, a dressing bag containing toilet requisites, a metal basin,
salted tongues and humps, potatoes, tea, sugar, flour, mustard, &c., one
bottle of brandy, to be reserved for medicinal use, a portable charpoy
or bedstead, cane stool, a little crockery, knives and forks, cooking
utensils, brass drinking cup for every purpose, a gingham umbrella with
white cover, a dandy (previously described), solar topee, and light cap,
tobacco, soap, and candles, a kookery, a stout alpen stock, a pass into
Kashmir, and bag of money, and "voilà tout." For carrying this baggage,
I require two mules, and two Coolies, or when mules are not procurable,
seven Coolies. Four other Coolies man my dandy, and these men are going
all the way with me. Each Coolie receives four annas, or sixpence a day,
and a mule costs eight annas. Stopped under a "pepel tree" and sent some
Coolies up it for the fruit, which was ripe. This tree is the Indian
fig, and the fruit is very small, not larger than marbles; and without
much flavor. The river is running a few yards from me, with a sound as
of the surf on a rocky beach. I hope ere long to hear the same pleasant
music seated on the cliffs of the south coast of Guernsey. Now my time
in India is drawing to a close, I begin to think that it has not been
altogether wasted, though I would not prolong it a day. All I have seen
and done within a period of three years (so much falls to the lot of few
men to perform) must have had some effect upon my mind; at any rate,
when safe at home again, I shall have much to talk of, many experiences
to relate. My dog Silly who accompanies me, was awfully done up towards
the end of the march. At last we came to a running stream in which he
laid down and was much refreshed, before that his panting had become
gasping though he kept up with us bravely, only lying down for a moment
when we came to a little bit of shade--not often met with, the last
three or four miles. For the last day or two, I have been almost
continually in a cool, gentle perspiration, this is a great contrast to
my state when at Peshawur, where my skin was always as dry as a bone,
and I look upon that as a healthy symptom, I have had no headache since
I left Bugnostan.
JULY 10th.--To Mozufferabad nine miles, but apparently much more, such a
bad fatiguing march. I got away with the first grey of the dawn and
after a mile's tramp began the ascent of the Doabbuller pass, three and
a half miles long and very steep, so steep that I could often touch the
ground with my hands without stooping much. This was terribly exhausting
and I had to make many halts to recover my breath. Then began a rough
descent along the side of a mountain torrent and afterwards over its
bed, which is a narrow gorge between high hills. This walking was very
rough and difficult; the path being covered with great stones and often
undistinguishable. Indeed it was no path at all, only the ground
occasionally a little trodden. Through the stream, backwards and
forwards _innumerable_ times we went. I found that my feet, though naked
except where covered by the straps of the sandals, were able to take
care of themselves, and avoid contusion almost without the help of my
eyes. Then I came to a large and rapid river called the Kishun-gunga
crossed by a rope bridge. Let me describe the bridge. Three or four
leather ropes about one inch in diameter tied into a bundle to walk
upon, three feet above this, a couple of ropes, two feet apart, the
upper ropes connected to the lower one at intervals of four or five
yards by stakes. This formed a V shape, and you walk on the point of the
V and hold on by the two sides. The breadth of the river is sixty yards,
and the bridge which is high above the water forms a considerable curve.
The description of the bridge is easy enough, but how shall I describe
my feelings, when I had gone a few yards and found myself poised in
mid-air like a spider on a web, oscillating, swaying backwards and
forwards over a foaming and roaring torrent, the rush of the water if I
looked at my feet, made me feel as if I was being violently carried in
the opposite direction; the bridge swayed and jumped with the weight of
half a dozen natives coming from the opposite side whom I had to pass,
the whole thing seemed so weak and the danger so terrible that I turned
giddy, lost my head, and cried out to be held. A firm hand at once
grasped me behind and another in front. I shut my eyes and so proceeded
a few yards. Then those dreadful men had to be passed. Imagine meeting
a man on a rope fifty feet above a torrent and requiring him to "give
you the wall." However they were passed by a mysterious interlacing of
feet; and when half way over I regained confidence, and bid the men
"chando" or release me, and so gained the opposite bank, where I sat
down and roared with laughter at my "boy" who was then coming over, and
who evidently was much more affected than I was. However he arrived
safely with his black face _pale_, dripping with perspiration and saying
he was sick. What was most amusing was to see him hooking his legs one
in front of the other on his way over, but I dare say I was equally
laughable to anyone on terra firma. He told me afterwards "water all go
down, and I go up and get sick and giddy." Another two miles over a low
ridge and I got to Mozufferabad and put up at the Barahduree provided by
the Maharajah for the convenience of English travellers free of charge,
for we are now in Kashmerian territory. This is an unfurnished bungalow
built of mud and pine logs, and there is one at every stage. This saves
the trouble of pitching a tent, and is of course much better in wet
weather. I have not had a drop of rain though yet. Met Watson, of Fane's
Horse, at the bungalow going back to Peshawur. Got Incis's Guide from
him for the day, and made some notes at the other end of this book.
There is a picturesque fort on this bank of the river commanding the
bridge, built by the Pathans, apparently of bright red stone or brick.
It was interesting to see mules and ponies swimming across the stream.
Holding on by the tail of each was a man supported by two inflated
Mussaks or goat skins which are ordinarily used by the Bheisties for
carrying water. Though both man and horse struck out vigorously they
were carried down many hundred yards before reaching the opposite side.
To look at them in the foam and rush of the river, and see their
impetuous career down the current, they appeared to be doomed to certain
destruction. I saw about twenty cross in this way. I walked the whole
of this march, though often tired, as I preferred trusting my own legs
to being carried in the dandy over such bad ground. Curran,
Assistant-Surgeon, 88th Connaught Rangers, is one march in front of me.
He has left his pony here till he returns. I suppose the last march was
too much for him. I am very glad I did not bring my horse with me; I was
strongly advised to do so, but I am afraid advice has not much weight
with me; in this instance anyhow, my own opinion has proved the best.
All the men I meet coming back have horses with them, but they are
nearly all shoeless, lame and sick, and have not been ridden for weeks.
JULY 11th.--Marched on Hultian, distant seventeen miles. Much better
road than yesterday, but many ups and downs and short rough bits.
Started two hours before sunrise, by the light of the moon. The road
soon reached the right bank of the Jhelum and continued the whole
distance alongside of that river. It is a rapid river apparently not so
deep and often not so wide as the Kishun-gunga, its bed strewn with huge
boulders over which the water breaks in great waves of foam. It runs in
a narrow rocky channel the precipitous sides of which are a great
height. How many ages must it have taken to cut this channel in the
solid rock? The valley is bounded by high hills, very narrow, the road
so bare of trees, that the latter half of the march became hot and
wearying, so I had recourse to the dandy for four or five miles. But it
was rare gymnastic exercise as swinging from my pole I had to dodge the
great stones on either side of me and keep a sharp look out to avoid
hard bumps. My dog was again very much fatigued. His tail is a good
token of his state, for when fresh it is stiff along his back, and
gradually drops as he goes along until he is quite exhausted, when it
hangs straight down. Stopped at a Barahduree (not so good a one as the
last) a few feet above the Jhelum in which I bathed. There is a rope
bridge opposite, a much older one than the other I crossed, but not more
than half as long, and not high above the water, some of the ropes are
broken, and it seems very shaky. However, I must cross it to-morrow and
get into the Murree road, which runs parallel to this one, on the other
bank, and is on the shady side and much cooler. It has been very hot all
day. The reason I could not come the direct road from Murree is because
the ferry over the Jhelum lower down, was recently carried away and
twenty-six natives drowned. Sir G. Larpent's (of the 88th) baggage was
in the boat, and he lost it all. He had not crossed and had to go back
to Murree minus everything including servants. There is excellent
Mahseer fishing in this river, the fish attain the enormous size of
80lbs. weight and afford exciting sport; but I have no tackle with me,
and did not even bring a gun, as I thought I should be too seedy to do
anything but moon about. I did not then know the great exertion
necessary to reach Kashmir, an exertion which any man with bodily
infirmity would hardly venture on without first providing himself with
an undertaker. Upon making enquiries I find that all the Coolies and
supplies on the other road, have been sent over to this side, so I must
keep to it and not cross as I intended. In the evening a slim young
native came to me and offered to swim across the river for Bakhshish, "a
present." I promised it to him, and he ran a quarter of a mile up, and
plunged into the torrent, landing on the opposite side a little below
the bungalow. He then went up the river again, and swam down to this
side, no mean feat in turbulent water running as it did with tremendous
velocity. I gave him eight annas for it.
JULY 12th, "Sunday."--In the middle of last night a storm came on, I was
sleeping in the open air, and the lightning awoke me, it was beginning
to rain, and I had to move into the house. It was broad daylight when I
was called, and I felt disinclined to proceed. I said it would rain, and
I would halt. My boy said, "No Sir, no rain." I said the sun would come
out and it would be burning hot. He said, "No Sir, no sun." I felt it
was useless continuing the argument, so I got up and marched to Kunda,
eighteen miles, walking all the way. A hard march, nothing but steep
rough ascents, and corresponding descents, still keeping along the
river, but two or three hundred feet above it. My Coolies pointed out to
me a herd of "chiken" on a very high hill, at least four miles away. I
saw nothing, for even big trees at that distance were diminished to
very small objects, but did not dispute with them. They say uncivilized
man has wonderful sight, and if deer were there, he certainly has far
higher powers of vision even, than I had been led to expect. Met three
men leaving Kashmir, and exchanged remarks with them. Don't know who
they were. Caught sight of my destination from the top of one hill, and
was delighted to see it was quite close to me. But alas! several weary
miles of up and down and in and out had to be traversed before it could
be reached. This has several times happened to me, and I shall in future
put no faith in appearances. The Barahduree here is a two storied one,
standing I should think five hundred feet above the river, which is
here confined in a very narrow channel. I took the upper room which has
three sides and a roof, there being no wall facing the river, over which
there is a fine and rather extended view, the more distant mountains
being crowned with pine forests. Had neither sun nor rain while
marching, but soon afterwards the sun shone out, though heavy and
threatening clouds continued to hang about the horizon. As I write this
I hear the first roll of thunder, there will be another storm to-night.
The Maharajah's officials come to me at every stage to enquire my wants
and provide for the same. Other natives also come with an insane
request,--a medical prescription for a sick Bhai (or brother) who
always has fever, and is at a great distance. What possible use a
prescription could be to them I cannot decide. The storm came up just
before dinner, 6 p.m., and was rather sharp but soon over. I came up the
valley of the Jhelum, and I watched its course for some time before it
arrived. It subsequently struck the edge of the house and I was all
right; had it come down the valley which runs at right angles to the
Jhelum just opposite here I should have been blown out. I again noticed
that to which my attention has often been directed, viz.: that when in
or near the storm clouds, the thunder is of quite a different character
to that heard below. It is a continuous low muttering growl without any
claps or peals. I have stood in the storm cloud at Sinchal, 9,000 feet
high, with the lightning originating around me and affording the
sublimest spectacle of dazzling brilliancy, and varying in colour from
the purest white light to delicious rose and blue tints. I have seen it
intensified and focussed as it were within a few feet of me, and from
this centre angled lines and balls of fire like strings of beads
radiated in all directions. Yet the thunder which in the plains was
heard pealing and roaring its loudest, was up there barely audible.
JULY 13th.--From Kunda to Kuthin twelve miles of hard toiling over a
similar road to that of the last march, finishing with a long, steep,
and very rough ascent to the high plateau on which Kuthin stands. On the
top of this I took to my dandy and was carried a mile along the level to
the Barahduree, where I slept upon the charpoy which is provided at
every bungalow for the weary travellers to rest upon pending the arrival
of his baggage. These plateaus or table lands exist at intervals all the
way up the valley, sometimes on one side sometimes on the other and
occasionally on both the river in the middle. They are quite flat, very
small, and highly productive, and vary from fifty to three or four
hundred feet in height, above the river. The valley which widens where
they exist, is narrowed again at either extremity. I can only account
for their formation by supposing that at a former time, a chain of lakes
existed, of which they are the beds, and that the water subsequently
burst through and formed the channel of the present Jhelum, leaving
these beds dry as we now see them. Came across a number of large tailed
butterflies of a lovely green and blue metallic lustre. Secured an
un-injured specimen, and for want of a better place stuck it inside my
topee, where I expect to carry it safely until my return to Peshawur.
Another storm came on earlier than yesterday. I have been very lucky
hitherto, not having had a drop of rain while marching. This morning was
cloudy till within a mile or two of Kuthin when the sun shone and made
the last ascent doubly trying. This is a very small village (at Kunda
there was only one hut) but there is a mud fort with bastions at each
corner but no guns. The walls are loop-holed for musketry, but there
does not seem to be any garrison. On making enquiries, I find there is a
garrison of seven men. It is getting dusk and mosquitoes are coming out
by hundreds, they have not annoyed me before, but I think I must use my
net to-night. I lie on my bed after dinner smoking with a lighted candle
by my side. A hornet flies in and settles on my hand, then a large
beetle comes with a buzz and a thud against me, making me start. Sundry
moths, small flies, and beetles, are playing innocently round the flame.
In half an hour I shall be able to make a fair entomological collection
but as I neither (Ha! I've killed the hornet) desire them in my hat
dead, nor in my bed alive, I must put out the light, give up writing,
and smoke in darkness.
JULY 14th.--To Shadera, twelve miles walked all the way. The road worse
than ever, and for the last mile actually dangerous, as it passed along
the edge of a deep precipice, and was only a foot wide and considerably
out of the horizontal, so that a single false step would have been
fatal. Road continued same character all the way along, though much
above the tortuous and noisy Jhelum, and its ups and downs were the
roughest, longest, and most trying, I have yet experienced. I am pleased
to know that the remaining two marches will be, in the words of my
Coolies over "uch'-cha rasta," a good road. It remained cloudy and
threatening the greater part of the way, and a little rain fell, but
eventually the sun shone, though great masses of "cumuli" continue to
hang about. This is a small village completely shut in by three huge
hills standing very close together. Between the sides of the two in
front, the summit of a fourth is visible, a magnificent towering
mountain, covered with a dense pine forest. I have not seen the snows
since I crossed the Doobbullee pass, as we have been ascending the
valley of the Jhelum ever since, and the view is confined by its lofty
sides. I have eaten my last loaf for breakfast this morning, and now one
of the greatest privations of the journey will begin. No bread, nothing
but flour and water made into a kind of pancake, which the natives call
"chepattie." I have not tasted fresh meat since I left Abbottabad, but
that one can do very well without. I live upon fowls, eggs, milk, butter
and rice, with a tongue or hump, cooked when necessary. Two or three
miles from Kuthai, we passed a very pretty waterfall. The slender stream
fell over a smooth perpendicular rock, of a rich brown colour, 100 feet
high, like a thread of silver. Both sides of the gorge covered with a
variety of beautifully green trees, shrubs and ferns, altogether
constituting a delightful picture, the tints mingled so harmoniously,
yet with strong contrasts. Stopped at the Barahduree as usual, this one
surrounded with wild fig, plum, peach, pomegranate, and mulberry trees.
The mulberries only ripe, and like all wild fruit, small and
comparatively tasteless.
JULY 15th.--Started as soon as it was light for Gingle, fourteen miles
distant. Road greatly improved, hilly of course, but tolerably smooth so
that one could get on without clambering. About half way passed Dorie on
the left bank of the river, where there is another fort and a strong
rope bridge, it is one of the halts on the Murree road, farther on came
to an old ruin, four thick walls perforated by arches enclosing an open
square in the middle of two of the sides, large masses of masonry formed
archways or entrances. It is built of the rough stones and boulders with
which the surface of the ground is covered, yet the arches are of very
good shape. On the opposite bank of the Jhelum there are forests of
Deodar, but though they grow down to the waters edge, there is not one
on this side. (Larix Deodora, called by the Hindoos, "the God Tree" is a
stately pine, growing to a great height, and of a very gradual and
elegant taper. Its foliage is of the darkest green colour, and it gives
the mountains a very sombre appearance.) The hills have become much more
rugged and abrupt. I know of no single condition which gives a scene so
great an aspect of wildness and desolation, as dead fir trees. There
they stand on the most barren and inaccessible places, rearing their
gaunt and whitened forms erect as ever, and though lifeless yet not
decayed. Seared and blasted by a thousand storms, they stand stern and
silent, ghostlike and immoveable, scorning the elements. No wind murmurs
pleasantly through their dead and shrunken branches, the howling tempest
alone can make them speak, and then with wild straining shriek and harsh
rattle, they do battle with the whirlwind. It was getting hot and I was
thinking of my dandy, when a storm passed over with heavy rain. This was
a mitigated evil (if an evil at all for my bed remained dry, and a wet
bed is the worst result of a shower) as it rendered walking cool and
pleasant. It cleared up again, and I rode the last half mile. The
cleanest and best bungalow here I have been in since I left Ghuri. The
view down the valley is extremely pretty, hills rising one above the
other, but shut in on all other sides by high mountains. Gingle, which
is only one or two huts, stands on a small plateau a quarter of a mile
long by one hundred and fifty yards wide, fifty feet above the Jhelum.
The ground is laid out in paddy fields irrigated by a stream of the
coolest and purest water. It is a great satisfaction to be able to drink
water freely without fear. In the plains of India the water is so
contaminated as to be almost poisonous, and I do not think that previous
to this march I had drank a gallon of it since I landed in Calcutta.
JULY 16th.--Left Gingle with the earliest streak of dawn for Baramula,
an eighteen mile march. Road very much more level, never ascending high
above the river whose erratic course we continued to follow. Passed
through groves of hazel overrun by wild vines, but both grapes and nuts
as yet green. The plateaus become gradually larger and almost
continuous, and the hills separated and diminished in size, those on the
right being covered with the lank deodar, while those on the left
possessed only a bright green mantle of grass, far away in front they
altogether ended, and the open sky above the valley was alone visible.
And now an unusual occurrence presented itself. We were following the
stream upwards towards its source, yet at every mile it increased in
width and became more placid, till at length its surface was unbroken,
and it assumed the form of a magnificent river, wider than the Thames at
Richmond. The hills continued provokingly to overlap one another as
though anxious to shut in and hide the happy valley from sight. But at
length I discerned a far distant white cloud which I guessed betokened
the summit of a mountain, and a few yards further revealed a faint
glistening opaque line which the inexperienced eye would have certainly
taken for a portion of the cloud, but which could not be mistaken by one
who had before seen the snows. About half a mile from Buramula we
obtain the first view of the Vale of Kashmir, but not an extensive one,
as it is obstructed on either side by low hills. However, what is seen
is very pretty. A large level plain traversed by a broad smooth river
which has now lost its tortuous zig-zag course and bounded by the
everlasting snows covering the main backbone of the Himalayas. At the
head of the valley stands the quaint looking town of Baramula surrounded
by hills on all sides but one, embowered in trees and intersected by the
Jhelum, across which there is a good wooden bridge. The houses have
mostly an upper story, and are built of wood with gabled roofs. The
streets are narrow and roughly paved, and I regret to say are not more
pleasant to the nostrils than are those of other Indian towns. The
bridge built of deodar wood, beams of which are driven into the bed of
the river, and then others laid horizontally upon them, each row at
right angles to and projecting beyond the layer beneath, till a
sufficient height has been reached, six of these and two stone piers
form the buttresses of the bridge and a broad pathway of planks connects
them. The march was a fatiguing one on account of its length, and I used
the dandy freely. I shall however discard it altogether for the future.
I went to the Barahduree but found it occupied by a man whose name I was
told was "----," had been there five days. His Coolies had taken
possession of all the rooms, and though I was very angry and inclined to
turn them out, I thought my tent would be preferable to a room just
vacated by the uncleanly native, so I went to an orchard close by,
surrounded by a row of fine poplars, and patiently awaited the arrival
of my baggage which was a long time coming. The gate was guarded by the
Maharajah's sepoys who endeavoured to prevent my entrance. The Thikadar
told me he had no authority for this, but had done it "Zubbur-dustee."
They also say that the occupant of the Barahduree has just come from
England. He is a being shrouded in mystery, and I shall endeavour to
unravel it. My first step will be to report the occurrence to the
officials at S---- when I get there. I took a swim in the Jhelum, whose
course I have now followed for eighty-four crooked miles, and on whose
bosom I shall to-morrow continue my journey.
JULY 17th.--By boat up the river, the day so bright, the view so
glorious, the breeze so balmy and delicious, and the motion so gentle
and pleasant, that lying on my bed I devote myself to lazy listlessness,
to a perfect sense of the "dolce far niente" and can hardly prevail on
myself to disturb my tranquillity by writing these few notes. The
contrast to my thirteen heavy marches is so great that I am content to
remain for the present without thought or action, enjoying absolute
rest. Evening--We halt at Sopoor, and now let me endeavour to continue
the diary. Got up at seven this morning and sent for a boat, one of the
larger kind about thirty feet long, and six feet broad in the middle,
the centre portion covered with an awning made of grass matting. The
crew consisting of an entire family, from the elderly parents to quite
young children--9 in all. I was towed up the still widening river by all
of them in turns, one wee girl not three feet high being most energetic,
though I should think of little real service. Boat flat bottomed, and
alike at both ends, they use paddles instead of oars. But the scene! I
am unable now to do justice to it, so I will only give the outlines to
be elaborated hereafter. Splendid river--verdant plain covered with many
varieties of trees, poplar and chenar or tulip tree the most
conspicuous, extending as far as the eye can reach and enclosed by lofty
snow capped mountains, on which rest the clouds of heaven. Bright blue
King-fishers darting like flashes of light or hovering hawk-like before
the plunge after fish and the many hued dragon flies upon the water
weeds. Among the several varieties of the weeds, I noticed a great
quantity of "Anacharis." Got fresh mutton and apple-pie for dinner.
Swarms of very minute flies came to the candle dancing their dance of
death. Many thousands were destroyed, and their bodies darkened the
board which serves me for a table. Sopoor like Baramula, river bridged,
and grass growing on the roofs of the houses.
JULY 18th.--In the night we moved on, and at five in the morning I was
awoke at the foot of Shukuroodeen Hill, 700 feet high, which I intended
to ascend, and get a _coup d'oeil_ of the valley. Instead of being on a
river, the water now spread out into a great lake (Lake Wulloor) the
largest in Kashmir. Got up and began to ascend the hill, but when half
way up, the strap of one of my sandals gave way, and as I could not
mend it, I was obliged to descend; however, I got an extensive view of
the valley lying spread out at my feet, the lake occupying a great
portion of the view. Went on to Alsoo (about three hours) from whence I
shall march to Lalpore the other side of a range of high hills which
rise very near the water. We are thirty miles from Baramula. The lake is
in many parts covered with a carpet of elegant water weeds which makes
it look like a green meadow, among them the Singara or water nut, a
curiously growing plant which bears spiny pods enclosing a soft
delicately flavoured kernel--heart-shaped, as big as a filbert.
Mosquitoes by thousands, and very annoying, red and distended with their
crimson feast. Alsoo--a rather uninteresting place, grand mountains.
Huramuk to the East, and great expanse of water.
JULY 19th, Sunday.--On the march again to Lalpore, twelve miles. I left
my heavy baggage and dandy in the boat (which here awaits my return) and
only took my tent and bedding with one week's stores, the whole only
four coolie loads, and now began my first taste of real mountain work.
For nearly four hours I was ascending the steep range which rises above
Alsoo, and hard toiling it was. Half way up we met some men with
butter-milk, of which my boy made me drink a quantity, saying it would
"keep master cool." As we rose--the vale spread out magnificently
beneath us, and the large lake was seen to full advantage shining under
the morning sun, which appeared from behind a grand snow-clad mountain.
Near the top we came to the prettiest stream I have seen, its banks
covered with maiden hair and other ferns, fruit trees and firs, and its
surface skimmed by gorgeous flies. The summit gained, I was well
rewarded by a view of the whole of the Solab an off-shoot of the main
valley. A bright gem in a dark setting of deodar covered mountains,
spurs from which radiated into the valley so fair and verdant with its
many villages, its meandering streams, and frequent orchards, the air
laden with the perfume of many flowers. My Bheisties even exclaimed
"bahut ach chtu." I gazed entranced. The descent was long but a much
better path. Going down I came to wild raspberries which I must say were
as large and well flavoured as any garden grown ones, there was also a
small yellow plum which was very nice. Arrived at Lalpore the principal
village, I encamped under a large walnut tree (very fine trees and very
common) covered with its nuts. This valley abounds with bears, I was
certainly cooler after taking the butter-milk, but I attributed it to
the ascent being less steep and the path shady. Saw a magnificent
butterfly of a specimen I did not recognise; attempted to catch it, but
like many other desirable objects in this world, it eluded my grasp at
the very moment I thought I had secured it. Got a fine one of a commoner
sort which I placed in my hat, where the other remains uninjured.
JULY 20th.--I halt at Salpore, awaiting the arrival of my Sirdar dandy
coolie, an intelligent, useful, Kashmiree man, whom I engaged to
continue with me as a servant at Baramula, and gave him four days leave
to visit his home, arranging that he should rejoin me here. I lie under
the shade of the wide spreading walnut trees, inhaling the fragrant
breeze, and enjoying perfect quietude and repose. All is so grand and
peaceful, that my heart swells with holy thoughts of praise and
gratitude to the Almighty Creator, and while gazing on one of the
fairest portions of his great work I find myself unconsciously repeating
the glorious psalm "O come let us sing unto the Lord." It would indeed
be a hard heart and a dull spirit that did not rejoice in the scene, and
acknowledge the power and magnificence of its maker. I see around me
this garden of Kashmir where every tree bears fruit for the use of man,
and every shrub, bright flowers for his enjoyment. Enclosed and guarded
by "the strength of the hills" (a noble sentence which never never
before so forcibly impressed me) and covered by the purest of blue
skies. All nature seems to say to me "To-day if ye hear his voice,
harden not your hearts," and surely the "still small voice" is speaking,
and can be heard by those who will heed it, and have the heart to feel
and the soul to rejoice in the strength of their salvation. The memory
of the beautiful duett in "Haydn's Creation," when newly made Adam and
Eve unite in praising God and extolling his wonderful works comes
freshly before me. Now, something akin to this must have crossed the
mental vision of the grand old Maestro when he wrote; and its calm
glorious music well accords with my present state of mind.
JULY 21st.--A pleasant stroll of ten miles before breakfast to
Koomerial along the level valley, through shady groves of apple, pear,
green-gage, peach, and mulberry trees, and forests of cherry trees
drooping with the weight of their golden blushing fruit. I have not seen
any vines in the Solab. Koomerial is a very small place, and I had a
little difficulty in getting supplies. I ought to have gone three miles
further to a large village; but I'll go there to-morrow, and then return
to Alsoo in two marches. A native came to me with the toothache, begging
assistance, but the tooth required extracting and I could do nothing for
him. Pitched under a walnut tope--the climate delicious, like a warm
English summer, but it is rather hot in my small tent in the middle of
the day; so I have my Charpoy put outside in the shade and lie there
smoking my pipe and thinking. I have spoken of the beauties and
pleasures of the Solab, but I must not omit mention of its annoyances,
flies and mosquitoes, by day the flies abound and cause much irritation
to any exposed part of the body. I do hate tame flies, flies that though
driven away twenty times elude capture, and will pertinaciously return
to the same spot--say your nose--until one is driven nearly mad with
vexation. At dusk the flies return to roost, and then myriads of
mosquitoes emerge from their hiding places, and make night hideous with
their monotonous hum and blood-thirsty propensities. I do not find
chepatties so bad as I expected, indeed I rather like them, but then my
boy makes them excellently well, using soda in their composition. The
process of manufacture is not pleasant--the flour is made into a paste,
and then flattened and consolidated by being thrown backwards and
forwards from one hand to the other, though one may avoid seeing this,
it is difficult to escape hearing the pit-pat of the soft dough as it
passes rapidly between the Khitmutgars extended, and I fear not always
clean fingers, it is then toasted, brought in hot, and you may eat it
dirt and all. But travellers must not be too particular, and so long as
your food is wholesome, eat and be thankful. But here comes my dinner,
with the chepatties I have just seen prepared, and which sight suggested
the foregoing lines. Chicken for breakfast, chicken for dinner, chicken
yesterday, chicken to-morrow, _toujours_ chicken, sometimes curried,
sometimes roasted, torn asunder and made into soup, stew or cutlets, or
with extended wing forming the elegant spatchcock, it is still chicken;
the greatest and rarest change being that it is occasionally rather
tender. I have had chicken soup and roast fowl for dinner, the chicken
in the soup as stringy as hemp, the fowl as tough as my sandal, and with
so large a liver that I doubted whether the bird had not met with a
violent death. I like fowl's liver, it is my one _bonne bouche_ during
the day, but these startled me, and after straining my teeth on the
carcase, I gladly swallow the soft mouthful. Oh! English readers, you
who have never wandered far from your native shores and who esteem
chickens a luxury to put on your supper table at your festive
gatherings, come to India and surfeit on your dainties, you will see it
calmly collecting its daily food unsuspicious of danger, then comes the
rush and loud clacking as it flies pursued by the ferocious native,
ending with cries of despair and the fluttering and hoarse gurgle of its
death throes, in half an hour Murghi will be placed before you hot and
tempting to the eye but hard as nails to the touch; they are cheap in
this part of the world. I pay one anna (or three halfpence) for a
chicken, or two annas for a full grown fowl.
JULY 22nd.--A little march of three miles to Koopwaddie. I am glad I
came here for one or two reasons. In the first place the walk afforded
me a nearer and finer view of the head of the valley, surmounted by its
high and rugged snow peaks; and secondly, I find I can return from here
to Sopoor in two marches instead of going back over the old road. From
Sopoor I shall boat to Alsoo. The range which at Lalpore was on the
further side of the valley has gradually approached the other hills
until now they are only a quarter of a mile apart, and are connected by
short low spurs which I crossed this morning. My road to-morrow will be
behind the first mentioned range, where another portion of the valley
lies. The valley is in fact fork-shaped, intersected by a mountainous
ridge which runs from its lower end for about fifteen miles. The two
portions then unite and form one valley up to the snows, and Koopwaddie
is situated at their junction. The Solab proper is only the eastern arm
which is formed into a _cul de sac_ by the mountains, and in which
Lalpore stands.
JULY 23rd.--To Chargle ten miles down the western fork of a valley
rough and uncultivated by comparison with the Solab. Over a low range of
hills with a very steep descent to Chargle standing on the left bank of
the Pohroo river. Not finding a good place on that side I forded the
river, which is not more than two feet deep, and encamped on smooth
green sward under a walnut tope on the other bank. Fine view from the
top of the hill of the level valley through which the Pohroo runs, with
the broad Jhelum shining like silver in the distance. This plain is laid
out in open fields, and lacks trees except round the numerous villages.
The surrounding hills too are comparatively bare, and their summits are
to-day obscured by the low-lying clouds.
JULY 24th.--A hot and uncomfortable walk of twelve miles on the exposed
and uninteresting road to Sopoor. There were but few trees to afford any
shade, but there were mulberries bearing ripe fruit, under which you
know it is impossible to sit down. From Sopoor to Alsoo (sixteen miles)
by boat, slowly driving all day through the tangled weeds and water
lilies. At Soopoor I waited for my boy to get what he wanted for my
breakfast (which he would prepare on board) and while waiting, a
procession of natives came with bells and flags, and something
surrounded by curtains and carried under a canopy, but I could not see
what it was. It was being fanned vigorously by several men and was no
doubt very holy. A large number of men (Mahometans) followed, shouting
loudly when the bells were rung, and some of them chanted a slow but not
unpleasing melody. They were praying for rain which is rare in this
country, and which is now required for the crops. My boy returned
bringing with him to my joy a fore quarter of mutton. Stopped at
Shukuroodeen for the evening, the wind being too strong to proceed.
Those flat bottomed boats with their large heavy awnings are very
cranky.
JULY 25th.--Started early for Alsoo. Found my old boat where I had left
it, but brought my baggage on board of this one, which I mean to keep
to, as the boatman is a much more useful fellow than the other man. He
acts as a servant, knows all the places I am going to, including
Ummernath, and has many excellent characters from those who have
employed him. There was such a scene when my intentions were made known
to the other crew, at first with tears and folded hands they
supplicated, but when that proved useless they took to cursing and
gesticulating, which they continued as their boat moved away and so long
as they were within hearing, screaming across the water, making faces,
and shaking their fists aloft; the old man was especially violent, it
was very laughable. My present crew consists of the man I have
mentioned, three good looking young woman, one of whom has the hooping
cough, and a variety of children I have not yet made out the different
relations to each other. There was lightning and some heavy rain last
night (the result no doubt of yesterday's ceremony) and the sky is still
gloomy and overcast. On from Alsoo after Chota Hazree or first breakfast
to Lunka, a small island, which is only fifty yards square, is thickly
covered with pine trees, with trailing grape vines clinging around their
boughs, on it stands an old ruin, and fallen pillars and carved stones
litter the ground. From a distance it looked very lovely, floating as
it were on the bosom of the open waters, but as we neared it an
unpleasant odour became perceptible, rapidly increasing to a horrid
stench. This proceeded from a colony of natives who were in temporary
habitation of the island, and were engaged in catching and drying the
fish with which the lake abounds. I landed however, but was soon forced
to beat a rapid retreat. Such a mass of all kinds of filth crowded in so
small a space, I have never before witnessed. Man is ever the plague
spot of the world, where he is not, all is peace, and beauty, with his
presence comes contamination and discord. Saw many a whistling seal in
one part of the lake. The water soon became contracted into a narrow
channel, with a low bank on either side, after travelling a few miles
more we reached the broad Jhelum above its entrance into the lake.
Remained for the night at Hajun.
JULY 26th, Sunday.--Moved on in the morning to Manusbul, a small lake
connected with the river by a canal. This lake is about three miles long
and one mile wide, it is very deep in the middle, and said by the
natives to be unfathomable. In one of the Hindoo Legends we are told a
story of a holy man who spent all his life endeavouring to make a rope
long enough to reach to the bottom, and failing, at length threw
himself in and was never seen again. My boatman to give me an idea of
its depth, dropped in white pebbles which could be seen for a long time
sinking in the clear green water, until they gradually disappeared from
sight. I longed to take a plunge into the cool fluid, and Ungoo
evidently read my wish in my looks, for he proposed that I should gussul
or bathe. The presence of three women however proved too much for my
modesty, and I refrained, although I have no doubt that had I not done
so their feelings would not have been in the least outraged. Very
handsome water lilies (lotus) on the surface of the lake, the flowers
being of a delicate pink colour with a yellow centre, and as large as
the crown of a man's hat. At the further extremity, a high hill rises
from the edge of the water. A stream is artificially conducted along its
face at a height of about fifty feet, and the surplus water escapes in
several pretty little cascades, by the side of one of them grow some
noble chenars. The bottom of the lake around the edges is very uneven,
and covered with a dense growth of mynophillum spicatum, on which
planorbus and other molluces graze and tiny fry pick their invisible
atoms of food. The elegant shape of this plant with its branching and
finely cut leaves, and the inequalities of the ground remind me of the
pine-clad hills in miniature. A brilliant king-fisher took the gunwale
of the boat as the "base of his operations," and I amused myself all the
morning, by watching him catch fish; when one approached the surface he
descended with a splash which I imagined would have driven every fish
far away, emerging quickly and very seldom without a capture, which he
turned head downwards and swallowed alive and whole, then looked round
with a laughable air of self-satisfaction. When the fish was a size too
large to be trifled with, he first polished it off by rapping its head
on the boards. It is now sunset, and that bird is still feeding, and
probably the day will end without deciding whether his appetite or his
capacity is the larger. A native brought me a dish of excellent
apricots and mulberries--the mulberries especially good, and my garden
is celebrated for the best peaches in Kashmir.
JULY 27th.--Up the Jhelum again, past Sumbul with its deodar bridge
(similar to the others described with this exception, that the footway
appears to be built in imitation of the roof of a house sloping on
either side from a high central ridge, not the best form of bridge I
have seen, but variety is charming) to the entrance of the Scind river,
where a chenar stands in the middle of the stream, protected by a square
block of masonry. Tradition says this tree never grows. Near it is a
small island over grown with trees. Here we left the Jhelum and pursued
the course of the Scind which soon contracted into a narrow and rapidly
flowing river, its water derived from the snows, being very cold. It was
slow work rowing against the strong current, but we presently emerged
into a great lake entirely covered with high rushes except where a
winding channel was cut for the boats, and here progression was slower
still as the rope had to be abandoned, and the pole called into
requisition, so that it was nearly dark when we reached Ganderbul.
Passed a number of men wading in the water up to their necks, and
spearing the ground with poles armed with a single barbed spike.
Although this seems an insane way of attempting to catch fish, their
boat was well laden with a small species of trout, and I saw several
drawn from the water impaled and wriggling upon the sharp point.
Sreenuggur seen in the distance at the extremity of a mountainous spur,
with the Fort and Soloman's Throne, standing upon two elevated rocks.
Within a few miles of Ganderbul the lake became clear, and presented a
fine expanse of water, but with so many shallows, that our course was
very tortuous. Having travelled twenty miles, we are now only five miles
from Manusbul. Ganderbul stands at the opening of the Scind valley, but
it was too late to take any observations when I arrived; so I must wait
until my return.
JULY 28th.--A march of nine miles up the valley to Kungan, taking with
me as before only four coolie loads of baggage; my boatman accompanies
me. Met Scott, of the 88th, three or four miles from Ganderbul, the
first European I have seen since the 12th. This is a narrow and
beautiful valley, down which the Scind river rushes foaming and roaring.
Its waters are icy cold and its colour also seems to partake of its
snowy origin, for it is white, not only with foam, but the water itself
in small quantities is as though it had come out of a milky jug. Grand
hills stand on either side, and up the valley I occasionally got
glimpses of high and rugged snow peaks. Several natives came to me with
different ailments, I gave them rough directions whereby to benefit, but
what they wanted was a gift of medicine (of which I have none.) They
fancy every Englishman is an adept in the art of healing, and that
English physic especially Tyrnhill's Pills, possesses magical powers.
JULY 29th.--To Toomoo, six miles, a shorter march than I intended, for
they told me at Kungan that Toomoo was twelve miles distant. However,
when I arrived, the temptation to stop was too strong to be resisted. In
marching one gets very weary about the sixth or seventh mile, but this
passes off, and you can then go on comfortably for almost any distance,
provided you resist the first feelings of fatigue, and do not give way
to it, as I have done to-day. The mountains are now huge towering
masses, rising thousands of feet above the valley; they have lost all
smoothness of outline, and their upper portions are bare and rough,
cragged, and pine clad. Instead of having merely whitened peaks, snow
fields extend down the sides. The scene is one of wild majestic
grandeur. What tremendous agonies in past ages must have been employed
to produce such vast upheavals. One cannot help contemplating with awe
the possibility of the world again becoming violently rent and shaken
to its foundations by the forces which though now comparatively inert,
still exist beneath us and occasionally give sad proof of their
undiminished power. In the present day the slow but continued action of
this subterranean power is in some parts perceptible (as in South
America) and we have no guarantee that it may not suddenly acquire
increased energy, and overwhelm our fairest lands with a run too
terrible to be imagined. Stinging nettles abound here, of the tall sort
that grow so rankly on old earth heaps and in dry ditches. I placed my
hand among them, delighted to be stung again by English friends; the
sensation is so far preferable to mosquito bites. Besides it took me
back to "childhood's happy hours," when with bramble torn breeches and
urticarious shin, I forced the hedges, apple stealing--I have stolen
apples to-day for a tart which is now baking--robbed the trees of them
for they are no man's property. Just above here on the other side of the
valley is a very perfect crater (of course extinct) for there are now no
volcanoes in the Himalayas. Its lips are rugged and serrated like the
teeth of a saw, and form a very perfect circle I cannot tell the depth
of the basin, but on the further side I can see that the edge rises
perpendicularly to a considerable height, and at the bottom of it I just
got a glimpse of a steeply sloping floor. On its exterior are deep
grooves containing strong blocks, which at this distance appear to show
by contrast of colour their igneous origin, but I cannot speak
positively on this point. My Bheistie to whom I gave three days leave to
visit his family, came in saying he had walked one hundred miles. He
does not look any the worse for it.
JULY 30th.--Another short march of five miles to Soorapra, a small
village around which stand several enormous hills, half obscured by
clouds, for it is a thoroughly wet day, drizzling rain having fallen
ever since my arrival. It is very cool and pleasant, but I have got up
too far and am now in the rainy region, so to-morrow I shall retrace my
steps, three or four marches would take me over the Himalayas into
Ladâk. This would be an interesting trip, but there still remains much
for me to see in Kashmir, and I have not time to do both. Passed
another, but smaller and less perfect crater. Some natives brought a
young black bear, which they had just caught to show me. It was no
larger than a good-sized dog, but had very long sharp claws; its
expression was anything but ferocious. A dense pine and walnut forest
extends down one of the hills to the verge of the village. I was
strolling in that direction, not a hundred yards from the huts--before
the arrival of my baggage--when two men ran after me and begged me to
come back on account of the number of tigers there. I imagined they
meant leopards, but on making enquiries I find cows are carried away,
which could not be done by leopards. This would be a good ground for the
sportsman, but no Europeans come here as it is off the regular track up
the valley. I crossed the river this morning by a ricketty bridge built
of a couple of firs, on which logs were loosely laid, leaving the main
road which runs along the other or right bank. Just behind my tent a
stream of deliciously cold and transparent water issues from the hill
side; a rough sort of shed is erected over it, and the water is
conducted a short distance in a wooden trough, from the end of which it
falls to the ground. It is the custom in Kashmir to build over the
springs and esteem them holy. No mosquitoes up here, delightful prospect
of a good night's rest.
JULY 31st.--Back to Kungan in one march, but did not encamp on the same
ground as before, as I found a better place by the side of the river. I
have been thinking all the morning about my future career, whether I
shall obtain the appointment in the Guards that I have applied for, (my
application has by this time reached England) if not, what will they do
with me when I get home, or shall I remain in the army? These questions
have been running in my head and occasionally a more delicate one
obtruded. Shall I marry, and if so, when and whom, and here, where all
my thoughts are revealed, I must needs confess that now at twenty-nine
years of age, I begin to weary of single blessedness, and long for a
fair, loving, and loveable companion. Now my gentle lady reader, here is
a chance for you, if you are content with honest love without adoration,
faithfulness without romance; for my romantic days have passed. I have
learnt the sober realities of life, and among them the truth of God's
declaration that it is not good for man to be alone. The _Saturday
Review_ in recent articles, "The Girl of the Period, &c.," holds out a
poor prospect for the would be benedict, and I fear there is much truth
in the assertion that the majority of our young women are husband
hunting, that they make matrimony their one great object, and will
condescend to any means whereby to attain the personal independance
given them by that position, that these marriages without love, only
prompted by selfish considerations, are followed by a total neglect of
all wifely duties--nay more, that even maternal care and tenderness have
nearly ceased to exist. It is a sad picture, and sternly drawn. The
well-known power of the paper is put forth in its highest degree, and
withering sarcasm, and bitter contempt accompany its stern reproofs.
Yet there is a final wail of despair at the unlikelihood of any change
for good being effected. This evil like most others is of our own
making. We men no longer marry while young, but when middle-aged or with
grey hairs beginning to show, a man desires a wife, he will most likely
choose one five and twenty years his junior. The girl often marry thus
because she cannot get a husband of her own age, and a very few years
lost will doom her to perpetual spinsterhood. It is necessarily a
marriage without love, a lucky one if there be respect. Girls have
learnt that it is useless to bestow their affections where nature would
have them, and and it is scarcely a matter for surprise that they
should in consequence endeavour to repress them altogether. Moral for my
own use. Marry while I am young, or not at all.
AUGUST 1st.--To Wangut nine miles rough and hilly walking. I lost the
path once, and had a long scramble before I regained it. Though not a
pleasant march the scenery is very fine and picturesque. Wangut lies up
a short and contracted valley, an offshoot of the Scind which is a much
larger one, and the mountains around it are very grand especially at the
head of the valley, I put up large coveys of grey partridge on the road.
I have come here for the purpose of visiting some mines two miles
further on, and I intend to halt to-morrow and walk to see them. There
is a great row going on while I write this, the natives appear unwilling
to furnish supplies (milk, eggs, &c.,) and my boatman who has
accompanied me is applying his stick freely by way of persuasion. There
is of course a Babel of tongues and I sit within a few yards, quietly
ignoring the proceeding, though if necessary, I shall get up and add
some lusty whacks as my share of the argument. A mountain torrent--a
tributary of the Scind runs down the valley with the usual noise and
hurly burly. A travelling native carpenter is here, and all the village
are bringing their ploughs to be mended, he is very clever with his
hoe-shaped hatchet fashioning the hard walnut wood so correctly with it,
that the chisel is hardly necessary for the few finishing touches. I
have seen him make some wooden ladles very rapidly, and he has provided
me with a new set of tent pegs and mallet and a wooden roller, by means
of which I hope to avoid the digital process in the manufacture of my
chepatties.
AUGUST 2nd, Sunday.--Sitting having my feet washed by a servant
(delightful sensation) after my return from the ruin of Rajdainbul and
Nagbul. I meditate on the mutability of all things human. I have taken a
walk before breakfast this Sabbath morning to witness the overthrow of
former magnificence and the destruction of man's crafty handiwork. These
two temples erected many long years ago in honour of a Hindoo Deity
named Naranay, now stand desolate piles in the dense jungle. Fallen
stones cover the ground and great trees grow from the interstices of
those that still hold together and retain a semblance of their original
shape. Confusion reigns supreme and the place that was once the scene of
mistaken worship, is now only the haunt of the wild beast and deadly
reptile. The thoughts which such a sight suggest, have been the theme of
many a moralist, but the great lesson it teaches cannot lose any of its
importance by repetition. Yet a consideration of the littleness of man
and the utter vanity of his proudest works is, I fear, distasteful to
most of us; we cannot bear to be forced to admit our own insignificance.
We go to church and cry "what is man that Thou art mindful of him," but
the words are but empty sounds. Our preachers may tell us that life is
but a shadow, but they speak to unwilling and heedless ears, and we go
on ignoring the fact, crying peace, and stifling our conscience by a
form of religion without godliness. We are arrogant, high-minded, puffed
up in our own conceit, and though there are many that would wish to be
considered holy, how few there are that are humble men of heart, and
time continues to repeat the old, old story, filling our grave-yards,
destroying our works; creation alone remaining stable, waiting for the
end. These ruins are small in size, and their architecture rude, though
the individual blocks are certainly large and well though not
elaborately carved. But they produce a strange impression of awe by the
dreary solitude and wildness of their position which is perhaps peculiar
to themselves, although they lack both the fairy elegance of Netley
Abbey, and the massive grandeur of a Pevensey Castle. The men who
accompanied me advanced very cautiously through the thick underwood,
beating with their sticks in order to drive away the Iguana Lizards,
which they call the "bis cobra" and hold in deadly fear, believing its
bite to be most surely fatal. This belief is universal among the natives
of India, but there is no proof of its truth, and I need hardly say that
the dental arrangement of Bactrachian reptiles is incompatible with the
possession of poisonous qualities. But though science will not admit it,
it is strange that the idea is so widely spread, especially as the
natives do not fear any other species of lizard, while they believe that
every snake is armed with the fatal fang.
AUGUST 3rd.--Heavy rain prevented my departure from Wangut, at the usual
early hour, but about 9 o'clock it cleared up, and I marched on Arric
eight miles distant down a path on the right bank of the river, (I
ascended the valley on the other side.) The rain has made it very
slippery, and it was a fatiguing walk the road not being good, and
occasionally dangerous; one part fairly beat me, I was expected to pass
round a smooth rock by means of several ledges one inch wide and four or
five long, cut on its surface. The precipice below was deep, and when I
had taken one step, and found myself hanging over it; I determined to go
back and try another way. The other way is bad enough, but all I object
to is having my safety depending upon a single foothold. I like to have
at least one chance of recovering myself if I slip. My walnut tree
to-day is covered with mistletoe and my mind is directed to Christmas
time, and all its (to us) sad associations. Three Christmases have I
spent away from England, and a fourth is now approaching, one of them on
the ocean, and two in the tented field, the next will I fancy also find
me under canvass, but I trust on my way homewards. Westward Ho! is my
cry; let the gorgeous East with its money bags, its luxuries, and its
many hours of idleness, remain for those who are content to exchange
home-ties and the enjoyment of life for dreary exile and too often
untimely death, who will sell their minds and bodies for the price of
rupees.
AUGUST 4th.--Marched back to Ganderbul, nine miles. Ganderbul is a very
small place, and the only object of interest I noticed, was a very old
bridge built of rough stones, standing now upon dry land, for the Scind
has left its former channel and runs one hundred yards to to the south
of it, three of the arches remain entire and connected, and at least
twelve others are either decayed or destroyed. This bridge is evidently
of very ancient date. On emerging from the Scind valley, I got a better
view of the vale than I have before had. It was a clear but cloudy
morning--one of those grey days when rays abound, and photographic
efforts are most successful--and every distant object was seen with
great distinctness. The snowy Pin Punjaul range, in its southern
boundary looked magnificent, rising abruptly from the level and
beautiful plain. On board the boat again, I continued the journey
towards Srenuggur. We had not been long afloat before a sudden squall
came down from the hills and blew the roof of the boat off; it took a
long time to repair the mischief, but fortunately all the matting was
blown on to the bank, it was eventually replaced and we proceeded
onwards in a tolerably direct line to the capital, ten miles distant.
But near sunset the wind increased again, and compelled us to take
refuge in a sheltered nook within a mile or two of Srenuggur, the fort
standing above us on the summit of a hill--imposing from its apparently
impregnable position--and there we remained all night.
AUGUST 5th.--Starting early, I soon arrived at the outskirts of the
town, and the boat entered a canal with houses on both sides. There was
some delay at a lock and great excitement in pushing over the fall
caused by the rash of the water. Passed through the city which is a
large one, and encamped under chenars on the banks of the canal on the
other side. The Baboo-Mohu Chundee, an officer appointed by the
Maharajah to attend to the many and varying wants of European
visitors--called upon me and afterwards sent "russud" or a present from
the Maharajah consisting of tea, sugar, flour, butter, rice, salt,
spice, vegetables, a chicken, and a live sheep. Some cloth merchants
also came and I was led into extravagance in purchasing some of their
goods. In the afternoon I got a small boat, a miniature of the larger
one, propelled by six men with paddles. They took me along very quickly,
and I went down the canal which opens into the Jhelum--the main
thoroughfare of Suenaggur opposite to the palace and the adjoining
temple, whose dome is covered with plates of pure gold. It is a very
strange sight, the broad river covered with boats, and lined by houses
built in the curious Kashmirian style. Seven fine bridges cross it, and
on two of them stand rows of shops like our Old London Bridge. I first
went to the Post-office and got a satisfactory communication from our
Paymaster, and also a letter from Bill, giving me the sad tidings of
poor Tyrwhitt's death, which took place at Murree a fortnight after my
departure. It is a selfish consideration, but I cannot help feeling
grateful that he was prevented by an attack of ague from accompanying
me, as he intended. I then went to Sumnad Sha's, the great shawl
merchant, and turned some of the Paymaster's paper into silver currency.
He showed me his stock, and I wished that I possessed the means of
purchasing his goods. But even here a good shawl costs thirty or forty
pounds, very magnificent they are, but I need not describe that which
every English lady knows and longs for, if she has not it. Hewson, the
Paymaster at Chinsurah, is encamped within one hundred yards of me.
Passing in his boat he recognised me, and we went and had a swim and
talked over old times at the Depôt.
AUGUST 6th.--Bought some tackle and went fishing, but the hooks were
rotten and the fish broke several. I only succeeded in landing one trout
of nearly two pounds weight. The spoon bait is a favourite one here.
Bought a variety of stones and pebbles. Ladûk, Yarkund, Opals, Garnets,
&c., for making brooches, bracelets, and studs. I was a long while
making the selection and a long while bargaining, but I seem to have got
them cheap; at all events for less money than Hewson has paid for his.
This, and fishing, occupied the whole day--which was consequently an
uneventful one. In the evening I borrowed writing materials from Hewson,
and wrote a letter to Bell.
AUGUST 7th.--Went out spearing fish, but found it difficult in
consequence of the allowance necessary for the refraction of the water
and the movement of the fish. There is a great temptation to strike in
an apparently direct line with the fish, which I need hardly say, even
if the fish be stationary does not go near it. I only succeeded in
piercing two. But I afterwards went out with a spoon and very soon
landed a couple of trout of two and four pounds weight. I have found out
who was at Baramula ---- travelling quietly like a private gentleman,
still, notwithstanding the paucity of his retinue, the unmistakeable
stamp of nobility about him made it plain that he was more than he
appeared to be, obtaining for him the attention which he had wished to
ignore. As a contrast to him we have here X----, Y----, and Z----,
noticeable like many other Englishmen, when travelling in foreign
countries for the prodigality of their expenditure, one of whom got a
thrashing the other day from ----. Rather a disreputable affair for him,
if all I hear be true. I dare say many a poor native wishes that a small
portion of the money these three men waste was given to them instead.
AUGUST 8th.--I have done nothing to-day except go to Sumnad Shas for
some more money, as I intend to leave Sreenugger to-morrow for the
eastern part of Kashmir. There are two reasons for my idleness; in the
first place Hewson gave me some books he had done with, and I got
interested in James' "Heidelberg" and was reading it all this morning;
and secondly, Hewson left this afternoon and sat a long time with me
before his departure. To lengthen my notes for the day I ought to write
a sermon, or secular discourse, (as I have done before) but I don't feel
inclined to do so. This diary only gets my thoughts when they arise
spontaneously and require no further labour than the mere putting of
them into words. To-day my mind is a blank, and I am not going to search
in hidden recesses for thoughts that may possibly be secreted there.
Perhaps after dinner something may occur to me worth writing about.
AUGUST 9th, Sunday.--On again by the big boat up the Jhelum stopping at
Pampur for two hours fishing under the bridge (the reputed haunt of
large fish) but without success, so continued the journey gliding slowly
along the beautiful river until dark, when the boat was run ashore and
secured. So it has been an uneventful day with no new scenery to
describe and no musings to record.
AUGUST 10th.--Another day passed on the river. From early dawn till dusk
we continued towing against the stream, and then halted for the night at
Kitheryteen (I spell the word from my boatman's pronunciation of it) a
small village on the right bank.
AUGUST 11th.--Started again at daybreak but soon stopped at Bigbikara,
where there is another bridge. All these bridges are alike and similar
to the one described at Baramula, but this one is particularly pretty
from the fact of large trees having grown from the lower part of every
pier. These trees green and flourishing are high above the footway,
between which and the water there is a distant vista of fine mountains.
Fished here, but only hooked one, which I judged from its run to be
large, and lost it. Above the bridge the river narrowed to about half
its former width. We are approaching a very grand range of mountains
which seems to be the boundary of the valley. Before mid-day we reached
Kunbul and completed the trip of forty miles by water. At Kunbul is the
first bridge over the Jhelum, the river here diminishes to a breadth of
only thirty or forty yards, and soon breaks up into a number of small
streams which mostly rise from the water, then along the foot of the
hills.
AUGUST 12th.--Marched to Buroen, six miles, on arriving found the
camping ground occupied by numerous "Fakirs" who had lately returned
from Ummernath. These men are horrible looking objects, most of them
being painted white and nearly naked. Ummernath is a mountain 1,600
feet high, and at the top of it is a cave sacred to the Hindoo Deity.
In July pilgrims assemble there for a great religious festival, and
these are some of them on their way back. I intended to visit this cave,
but I have not time now, and I have thought that it may be a trifle too
cold up there. At Burven is a very holy spring. Two tanks are formed
where the water escapes from the ground, and these tanks swarm with tame
fish, some of them of large size. It was a great sight feeding them.
They all rushed to the place struggling and fighting for the food. The
bright green water was black with them, and a space yards wide and long,
and several feet thick, was occupied by a block of fish packed as
closely as if they were pickled herrings. These fish are also very
sacred, and to catch them is prohibited. Soon after leaving Kunbul I
passed through Islamabad, a large town of which I may have more to say
hereafter. There are two other men encamped here with me, but they don't
seem very sociable, and I don't care much for the society of strangers;
we have exchanged "good mornings" and that is all, and now sit staring
at each other at a distance of twenty yards. How different it would have
been if we were Frenchmen instead of cold-blooded Englishmen. After dark
the fakirs had a "tomasha." Singing, bell ringing, tambourine-beating,
and the blowing of discordant horns all at the same time, constituted a
delightful music--to them at least--and was continued for hours,
interrupted by shouting and yelling, and with this din going on I now
hope to sleep.
AUGUST 13th.--Marched back to Islamabad, seven miles, by another road,
as I first visited the ruins of Martund, a temple built (so the legend
goes) ages ago by "gin men" or demons of gigantic stature. These are
really grand ruins, whether position, site, or architecture be
considered. They stand on an open plain, on the summit of a ridge, from
which is a fine view of the surrounding mountains, which are much higher
than in the western part of Kashmir. In the centre is a large block,
containing several rooms, the huge stones of which it is built being
elaborately carved. There are many niches containing figures, but the
defacing hand of time has sadly marred them. On two sides of this
building and only a few feet distant from it rise a couple of wings, and
the whole is enclosed by a stone screen, perforated by trefoil arches,
and having on its inner side a row of fluted columns. In the middle of
the south side of the screens is the main entrance, the pillars of which
are very tall. Vigne, classes these ruins among the finest in the world,
and perhaps he is right. At Islamabad there are several bungalows
provided for visitors, and I went into one of them, having first
cleared it of the "fakirs"--who are here too. These bungalows stand by
tanks in which are tame fish, as at Burven. A spring issues from the
hill side, just above them. Two men of the 7th Hussars, Walker and
Verschoyle, occupied another, and I breakfasted with them. Adjoining the
tanks is a small pleasure garden, with some buildings which are
inhabited by the Maharajah when he visits Islamabad. The place reminds
me more of a tea garden in the New Road, than the resort of Royalty. The
water from the tanks escapes under the front bungalow forming a pretty
cascade. Dined and passed the evening with the other fellows.
AUGUST 14th.--To Atchebul, six miles. This is a charming spot. It is a
pavilion and garden built--if my memory serves me--by the Emperor Shah
Jehan, for his wife; at its upper end rises a hill covered with small
deodars and other trees, and from the foot of this hill four springs
gush forth from crevices in the rock. The volume of water is very large,
and it is conveyed into three tanks at different levels. These tanks are
connected by broad canals lined with stone, and at the extremity of each
canal is a fine waterfall. There are also two lateral canals which run
through the whole length of the gardens, from the boundary of which the
water escapes in three cascades, the centre one from the tanks being
the largest. In the middle tank are twenty-five fountains, which were
turned on for my benefit; only seventeen of them play, and the best jets
are not more than six feet high. In the centre of this tank stands a
pavilion which I now inhabit. Its walls are of wooden trellis work, and
the ceiling is divided into panels on which are painted in many colours
the everlasting shawl pattern; it looks as though the floor-cloth had
been placed on the ceiling by mistake. Along the foot of the hill is a
ruined terrace built of bricks, with arches and alcoves crumbling to
pieces. There is also an arch over the canal, between the second and
third tanks. The whole garden was originally laid out in several
terraces faced with masonry, and having wide flights of stone steps from
one to the other; but all is now much decayed, and the garden itself is
quite uncultivated, except a small portion, and is but a wilderness of
fruit trees and fine chenars. On the left of it is the old Human or
bath, a series of domed and arched rooms containing baths and marble
seats. The interior is in a fair state of preservation, and the various
pipes which conveyed the water to it still exist. The whole ground is
enclosed by a wall, and if it was properly looked after, might be
converted into a very pleasant retreat. In the afternoon Walker and
Verschoyle, rode over from Islamabad and sat some time with me, after a
few hours five other pipes began to squirt--rendered patulous I suppose
by the pressure of the water--so that three only now remain occluded. I
had a great loss last night; the dogs broke open the basket containing
my provisions, and carried away half a large sized cake, and a hump of
beef that had been cooked but was uncut.
AUGUST 15th.--Marched to Nowboog, fifteen miles, this long march was
quite unexpected as Ince in his book puts it down eight miles. It was up
hill nearly all the way--this combined with the sun's heat--for I did
not start so early as I would have done if I had known the distance--and
the vexation of having to go on, long after I considered the march
ought to have been finished, made it very fatiguing. Nowboog is situated
in a small and pretty valley separated by hills from the rest of
Kashmir. I intend to halt here to-morrow, so will reserve further
description until I feel fresh again. It was one or two o'clock before I
arrived, and I have worn a hole in my left heel which will, I fear,
render the next marches painful. Umjoo--the boatman--is now shampooing
my legs and feet. This process consists of violent squeezes and pinches
which make me inclined to cry out, but I am bearing it bravely without
flinching and endeavouring to look happy, and to persuade myself that it
is pleasant--now my toes are being pulled with a strength fit to tear
them off. Oh! ----. There's a cry on paper. He does not hear that, and
it is some sort of relief.
AUGUST 16th, Sunday.--The valley of Nowboog is small but very
picturesque. The surrounding hills are comparatively low, and are
covered with pasture on the open places, while the deodar and many other
trees occupy the ravines and gullies. The large amount of grass and the
grouping of the trees give it a park-like appearance, and the gentle
slopes of the verdant mountains remove all wildness from the scene. It
is a pleasant spot to halt at. A little nook which while it charms the
eye, only suggests peaceful laziness. My coolies sit at a short
distance, singing through their noses Kashmirian songs. There is much
more melody in their music than in that of their brethren of Hindoostan.
Indeed some of the tunes admit of being written, and I have copied a few
of the more rythmical, as they sang them. The principal objection to
them is that they are rather too short to bear repetition for half an
hour as is the custom, there is another music going on--a music that
cannot be written and will be difficult to describe--I mean the song of
the "Cicada Stridulantia" in walnut trees above me. This insect--the
balm cricket--is in appearance a burlesque, just such a house fly as you
might imagine would be introduced in a pantomime; and its cry is as
loud and incessant as it is peculiar. To describe it, fancy to begin
with a number of strange chirps, and that every few seconds, one of
those cogged wheels and spring toys that you buy at fairs to delude
people into the belief that their coats are being torn--is passed
rapidly down the back, with occasionally momentary interruption in the
middle of its course, while between each scratch you hear a mew of a
distant cat--another cat purring loudly all the time, and any number of
grasshoppers chirping to conclude with a running down of the most
impetuous and noisy alarum, and then silence--a silence almost painful
by contrast--until it begins again. Such is the song of the Cicada in
the Himalayan forests. I wonder every Sunday if they miss me at
Peshawur; for I was organist to the church before I left, and I doubt if
there is anybody to take my place. I wish I had the instrument here now
to peal forth to the hills and the wondering Kashmirians Handel's
sublime "Hallelujah Chorus" or "The Marvellous Works" of Haydn. What can
be more inspiring than the grand old church music we possess, bequeathed
to us by composers of immortal memory. Though much opposed to the
present Ritualistic tendencies I do delight in a musical service. It
seems to elevate the mind and give a greater depth to our devotion. Go
into any of our cathedrals and hear the solemn tones of the Liturgy
echoing through the vaulted roof, and your heart must needs join in the
supplication, "And when the glorious burst of music calls to praise and
rejoicing, will not your own soul fly heavenward with the sound and find
unaccustomed fervency in its thanksgivings." There is perhaps one thing
necessary, and that is, that you should know the music you hear,
otherwise the first admiration of its beauty may eclipse all other
considerations. But if you have studied it, if it is as familiar to you
as it ought to be, and is intimately connected in your mind with the
words to which it is set, you will understand its spirit, and see that
however beautiful it may be it is only the means whereby higher thoughts
and nobler feelings are sought to be expressed. I bought here a very
fine pair of Antlers of the "Bara sing"--a large deer found on these
hills.
AUGUST 17th.--To Kookur Nag, twelve miles. I am now convinced I came the
wrong road from Atchibul to Nowboog, as I had to march back over a great
portion of it this morning; however, with the exception of a mile or
two, it was all down hill, and as I knew when I started that I had
twelve miles to go, I was not tired. Stopped at the village on the way
where there are iron works, and saw them smelting the ore which is
obtained from the neighbouring mountains, this ore is a yellow powder,
and appears to be almost pure oxide. Their method of working is very
rude; a small furnace, such as a blacksmith uses at home, supplied with
a pair of leather bellows constitutes the whole of the foundry, and is
of course, only capable of smelting a very small quantity of ore at a
time. Kookur Nag is the name of some springs about two miles from the
village I have encamped at, and I walked over this afternoon to see
them. It was scarcely worth the trouble. There are a great number of
them close together and they issue from the ground, as usual, at the
foot of a prettily wooded hill. The water is very pure and cold, and of
sufficient quantity to form immediately a large and rapid stream. This
place lies near the mouth of a wide gorge or valley which leads right up
to the snows, and down which there must have been at one time, either a
mighty rush of water or a vast glacier, as the ground is thickly strewn
with huge boulders. The stratification of one mountain against which it
is evident the flood impinged--is very clearly and beautifully shown.
AUGUST 18th.--To Vernag, ten miles, crossing a range of hills, the
descent being the steepest I have experienced. From the top of the range
there was a fine view of the two valleys of Kookur Nag and Vernag. They
are very similar and down the middle of each is a layer of loose rounded
stones. The springs of Vernag occupy the same position in the valley as
those of Kookur Nag do in the other, but around them is a good sized
village, and their point of exit has been converted into a large and
very deep octagonal tank, which is perfectly crowded with sacred fish.
Surrounding the tank is a series of arches, and on the side from which
the stream escapes is a bungalow for the use of visitors. Six days ago a
Hindoo was drowned here, and his body has not been recovered--so deep is
the water, it is probable that ere this the fish have removed all but
his bones, one hundred yards below the tank is another spring, which is
the finest I believe in Kashmir. It comes straight up on level ground,
and forms a mound of water eighteen inches high, and more than a foot in
diameter. The morning cloudy and very gloomy on account of the eclipse
of the sun of which I saw nothing. This is my birthday and my thoughts
have been running over my past life and speculating upon the future
before me. "But fear not dear reader!" I will not bore you with all my
musings over those twenty-nine unfruitful, if not absolutely mis-spent
evil years, or show you how my "talent" lies carefully folded up and
hidden away, in order that I may have it to return to its "owner". "Oh!
fool, fool that I am." Knowing better things and with a half a lifetime
gone, "I find myself still plodding along the old road paved with good
intentions." The springs of grace indeed surround me, but I am in the
shallows and the water is muddy. The very "Tree of Life" is by my side,
but it is a dwarfed and stunted shrub, whose shoots wither before they
put forth leaves. When will this change? Will my resolutions ever become
deeds? "Will grace abound: or will faith ever give such impetus to my
"Tree of Life," that it may grow up into heaven?" I put to myself the
question that was asked Ezekiel. "Can these dry bones live," and have no
other answer than his to make. These are some of my birthday thoughts.
Pray, forgive, excuse me if I have wearied you.
AUGUST 19th.--Back to Atchibul, twelve miles, the road for the most part
level, but there was one mile of very hard work, over the ridge I
crossed yesterday. I approached Atchibul from the hill I mentioned as
standing at the head of the garden, and from the top of it a very pretty
view of the place is obtained. I found the pavilion unoccupied, and
again took possession of it, set the fountains playing, and imagined
myself the Great Mogul. Just out of Vernag, I caught a small black and
yellow bird, which my boatman calls a "bulbul" (though I think he is
wrong in the name) and says it sings very well. I have had a cage made
for it, and it is now feeding at my side, and is apparently very happy.
I'll try and take it to England. I believe it is only one of the shrike
family, but it is too young to identify at present. However, it is my
fancy to keep it, so why should I not. The old gardener here is very
attentive, constantly bringing me fruit. Shall I do him injustice, by
saying that he probably has expectation of a reward? I think not indeed,
is it not the same expectation or its allied motive, the desire to
escape punishment, which prompts the actions of all of us? We do good, I
fear, more for the sake of the promised recompense, than for any love
of the thing itself. Light rain has fallen all day.
AUGUST 20th.--I halt at Atchibul. I have now completed my wanderings in
Kashmir, and have seen all I intended except one portion, which I shall
visit on my road home. My next move will be to ----, but as I do not
care to spend more than seven or eight days there, I am in no hurry to
get back. My bird died in the night, and by its death has put an end to
a rather violent controversy between my Bheistie and boatman. The
boatman stoutly maintained his opinion of its value and the Bheistie
with a more correct appreciation, and while explaining to me that it
was a jungle bird and would never sing, appeared to look upon my conduct
with a mixture of compassion and disgust, and then they quarrelled over
it. Was my fancy a foolish one? Some men will spend years in the pursuit
and classification of butterflies, while others go into ecstasy over a
farthing of the reign of Queen Anne. My common jungle bird was a pretty
one, and if I had got it home and put it in a gilt cage, it would surely
have possessed some value for its antecedents, even if it had proved as
mute as a fish, or as discordant as a Hindoo festival.
AUGUST 21st.--Marched back to Kunbul, seven miles, and took up my
quarters again on board the boat, fifteen or twenty other boats are
here, a good many visitors having recently arrived in this part of
Kashmir. I remained at Kunbul all day waiting for the completion of a
pair of chuplus which I ordered of a shoemaker ten days ago. I have
occupied the time by reading Marryat's "Newton Forster" (one of Hewson's
gifts) and I find that when I read I can't write, so that must be my
excuse for the shortness of my notes. My head is full of ships, sea
fights, and love making to the exclusion of everything else. I heard
you--you said it was a good job, as it prevented me writing more
nonsense.
AUGUST 22nd.--Slowly drifting all day down the stream towards
Sreenuggur. Past Bijbehara with its fine bridge, stopping there a short
time to procure milk and eggs for breakfast. Past Awuntipoor--the former
capital--but now only a very small village, where stands on the rivers
bank the ruins of two ancient Hindoo temples, square blocks, built
indeed of enormous stones, but without sufficient architectural
embellishment to require a closer inspection than I obtained from the
boat. Another of those charming lazy days on the water, nothing to think
about, but the time for meals, nothing to do, but to eat them when
prepared. The eastern part of Kashmir is covered with high isolated
mounds called Kuraywahs, composed of Alluvium, presenting perfectly
flat summits and precipitous sides. The top of these was doubtless the
original bed of the lake at the time when the whole valley was
submerged, and the present channels between them (though now dry land)
were cut by the rush of the water, when the Jhelum burst through the
opening at Baramula and drained the valley. This rush then is shown to
have been impetuous (and the high banks of the river also bear evidence
to it) but it seems to me that the mere breaking through of the stream
sixty or seventy miles away is not enough to account for it. No doubt
that occurrence was attended, I may say produced by violent
subterranean phenomena; and I imagine that this portion of the
vale--which is much higher than the western half--then underwent a
sudden upheaval, the result of which if only a few feet would be to
throw its waters with terrific force into the lower portion and afford
an easy explanation of the formation of both the Kuraqwahs and the
Jhelum. I noticed in my course up the Jhelum, that it appeared to have
originally consisted of a chain of small lakes, this would be the the
natural effect of such a cause as I have supposed. The bulk of water, at
first, would only have been sufficient to produce a few of them, perhaps
only the large one between Gingle and Baramula. But as its quantity and
measure continually increased by the flow from the higher level so
would lake after lake have been formed among the crowded hills until the
plains were reached. Then the drainage of these small lakes would follow
as a matter of course, and the channel of the river be reduced to a size
proportionate to its constant supply. Dear reader, you are very
difficult to please. My descriptions you call slow, my imaginings
frivolous, science dry. Jokes are feeble and personalities tedious
morality is stale, religion is cant. What, how can I write? You have had
a taste of all and if you are not content the fault is--well, let me be
on the safe side--either yours or mine.
AUGUST 23rd, Sunday.--We continued to progress last night by moonlight
long after the sun had set, and started again very early this morning,
so that the Tukh-t-i-Suliman (Soloman's Throne) and Fort are now
visible, and I expect to reach Sreenuggur before noon. It is faster work
floating down the current than towing against it. At Sreenuggur I found
several letters waiting for me, and amongst them a large "Official,"
which I tore open with eager haste; thinking it might be a reply to my
application to be sent home. It was ----. Well, you will never guess--an
urgent enquiry as to what language I could speak and write fluently
beside English. I have answered this question some half dozen times
since I have been in the service, but they never get tired of asking it.
The date of my arrival in India is another favourite and constantly
recurring enquiry, and this might lead me to give you a dissertation
upon the theory and practice of Red-tapeism, with a special
consideration of the amount of stationery thereby wasted, and its
probable cost to the Government. It would perhaps, be very interesting
to you, but to any one who is at all connected with it, the subject is
only one of weariness and disgust--weariness at the unproductive labour
entailed--disgust at the utter folly of the proceedings. So I pass it
by, leaving some one who is willing to sacrifice his feelings, or more
probably some one who knows nothing whatever about it to furnish the
much needed exposé; it is customary to cry it down but it is an
acknowledged evil, the custom has never been fully and fairly explained
to outsiders or it must have given way before the burst of public
indignation which such an explanation would have created. I have again
encamped in the Chinar Bugh, but not quite in the old position as a
better place was unoccupied. Indeed I had my pick of the whole, for
there is now nobody here but myself. I received news (in my letters)
that a field force had left Pindee to operate against some of the hill
tribes between Peshawur and Abbottabad--ruffians who are always giving
trouble, and who occasioned the inglorious Umbeylla campaign a few
years ago. I informed my "boy" that there was going to be some hard
fighting, and his reply was "With our troops, Sir?" Our troops! good
heavens! a black man speaking to me of "our troops." It is customary I
know to call these Asiatics our fellow subjects, but I never before had
the fact so forcibly brought before me.
AUGUST 24th.--I got up early this morning and have spent half the day on
the "Dul" or "City Lake"--a large sheet of water which lies at the foot
of the hill behind Sreenuggur. Besides the excessive beauty of the lake
itself there are many objects of interest to be seen on its banks. I
visited in succession the Mussul Bagh, Rupa Lank or Silver Isle,
Shaliman Bagh, Suetoo Causeway, Nishat Bagh, Souee Lank or Golden Isle,
and floating gardens. A word or two of description for each. The Mussul
Bagh is a large grove of fine chenars planted in lines so as to form
avenues at right angles to each other. There must be several hundred of
these noble trees upon the ground, I do not mean fallen but erect and
vigorous. The Shaliman Bagh is an extensive and well cultivated pleasure
garden with pavilions, tanks, canals and fountains, in true oriental
style. The upper pavilion is especially worthy of notice having a
verandah built of magnificent black marble veined with quartz
containing gold. It is surrounded by a large tank possessing one hundred
and fifty-nine fountains, and its exterior is grandly if not
artistically painted. The Nishat Bagh is smaller but scarcely less
attractive. It is arranged in a series of fifteen terraces, from which a
splendid view is obtained of the lake and adjacent country. Down its
centre runs a canal, expanding at intervals into tanks and having a
waterfall for each terrace, with a single straight row of fountains
numbering more than one hundred and sixty. Grand hills rise immediately
above it. It contains pavilions of fruit trees, and as a flower garden,
is superior to the Shaliman Bagh. The Suetoo Causeway, is a series of
old bridges and embankments which formerly crossed the lake, and was two
or three miles long, but only portions of it now remain. The two islands
are small and covered with trees, having no interest of themselves, but
adding greatly to the appearance of the lake. They are I believe
artificially constructed. The celebrated floating gardens are very
curious; they were formed by dividing the stalks of the water weeds near
their roots, and sprinkling the surface of them with earth, which
sinking a little way was entangled in the fibres and retained; Fresh
soil was then added, until the whole was consolidated, and capable of
bearing a considerable weight. The ground is now about nine inches
thick, floating upon the surface of the water, and the stalks of the
weeds below it having disappeared. It is exceedingly porous and is used
for the cultivation of water melons, when walking upon it a peculiar
elasticity is perceived, accompanied with a tremulous or jelly like
motion. It is divided into long stripes pierced by a stake at each end,
which secures them in their position and allows of their rising or
falling with the height of the water. An unlucky day for Silly. In the
first place he was _sea-sick_. The use of the broad paddle in a small
boat caused a good deal of shaking, and every stroke is attended with a
sharp jerk forwards--secondly, he mistook a collection of weeds for dry
land and jumped out into the water. This puzzled him immensely, and
after he was recovered he sat for a long time gazing with a bewildered
air upon the surface of the lake. Paid a visit in the afternoon to
Sumnud Shah for the purpose of replenishing my exchequer, but found his
shop better calculated to exhaust it. I'll not go there again.
AUGUST 25th.--Lying down inside my tent I just now heard two crows
chuckling and laughing in their way and saying to one another "here's a
joke" or caws to that effect. You need not laugh at this statement or
think that my mind has suddenly become deranged, I merely state a fact.
The language of animals--dumb creatures as fools call them--is far more
expressive than you imagine, and if you had spent the same time and the
same attention that I have in listening to birds notes, you would be
able to understand much of their meaning. Here a conversation carried on
in a foreign tongue, one to which you a perfect stranger, will you be
able to distinguish words? No! you will only hear a confusion of sounds
possessing apparently but little variety. But as you become accustomed
to it the words and syllables will start out into clear relief; so with
birds songs--at first they will appear to you to be always the same, but
they have really different tones and meanings, which you may learn to
appreciate by studying them in connection with their acts. However I
heard the crows say "here's a joke" and guessing I was to be the victim
of it, I immediately jumped up and rushed out. They flew away loudly
exulting and I found my match box,--which I had left on the table broken
to pieces and the matches carefully distributed so as to cover as large
a space of ground as possible; there is a crow's joke for you--there is
not much in it as a joke,--but I introduce it principally to show that
birds talk and that I (clever I) can understand them. I wrote the
foregoing to eke out my notes for the day, not having anything
particular to record. When the Baboo called upon me with the startling
intelligence, all officers from the Peshawur division ordered
immediately to rejoin their respective regiments; this has taken away
the greater number of the visitors and very few are now left in Kashmir.
Why don't I pack up and start? Well, I forgot to mention a short
sentence in the order "except those on medical certificate" which saves
me the trouble and annoyance of hurrying back before the expiration of
my leave. It is on account, I suppose, of the little war we have entered
on with those hill tribes, and I may be missing honour and glory, wounds
and death, neither of which I care to earn from barbarians on the black
mountains. I am sorry for the affair as I fear that from the
inaccessibility of the country the best result will barely escape
disaster. This is a strange day. You see me, one moment trifling with my
thoughts for the sake of occupation and then having matters and subjects
for the deepest consideration suddenly thrust upon me. Ought I to
rejoin? I am indeed protected from the necessity of doing so, but my
health is now fully established and such being the case, is it my duty
to waive my right and return to my regiment. I think not, for the reason
it is not likely that they will weaken the garrison at Peshawur by
sending any of its troops into the field. Its strength is maintained for
the purpose of defence against the Cabulese and other powerful Pathan
tribes immediately surrounding it, who are deadly enemies, and would be
eager to avail themselves of any opportunity for offence. Therefore I
imagine that my regiment will remain in quarter, and do just as well
without me as with me; and therefore have I determined to adhere to my
original plans.
AUGUST 26th.--There was a great fire in the town last night; three
hundred houses have been destroyed. I went early to the scene of the
disaster, which is on the left bank of the river adjoining the first
bridge. The embers were still smouldering, and among the ruins the heat
was intense, owing to the houses having been built almost entirely of
wood, little but ashes and charred logs remained of them. Here and there
a few hot bricks retained the semblance of a wall, but the destruction
has been as complete as it is excessive. The bridge has also suffered,
the bank pier having been attacked by the flames, and half the railing
on either side of the foot-way has been torn off and precipitated into
the water. The latter injury was caused I imagine, by the rush of the
crowd over it at the time of the fire. No lives lost I believe.
AUGUST 27th.--At six o'clock this morning a Jemindar or military
officer made his appearance, sent by the Baboo, for the purpose of
conducting me over the fort. A row of a mile down the river, and half a
mile walk through the narrow rough crowded and stinking streets of the
town brought us to the outworks, at the foot of the hill on which it is
built. This hill is very steep and several hundred feet high, (I do not
know the exact height, but I think it is between six and seven hundred
feet) and the climb up it was fatiguing. From the top there is an
extensive view, but the morning was misty and the greater part of the
valley indiscernible. In front lies the town, intersected by the Jhelum;
a great desert of mud-covered roofs presenting anything but the green
carpet-like appearance described in books. On the left long lines of
poplars, enclosing the Moonshi Bagh and the various encamping grounds,
with the Tukh-t-i-Suliman rising high above them. Behind, the Dul,
spread out like a sheet of silver with the back ground of mountains, and
many canals radiating and glistening in the sun-light. Of the fort I
have but little to say. From below, its position renders it imposing,
but a nearer inspection dispels the illusion. Inside it there is a
Hindoo temple, two or three tanks filled with green, slimy water, and
some wretched hovels for the occupation of the garrison. The ramparts
though high are weak and a few shells dropped within them would blow
the whole place to pieces. The ordnance consists of four ancient brass
guns; two of them about 9-pounders and the others 32-pounders, but I did
not see a spot from which either of them could be safely fired; and even
if there were bastions strong enough, I doubt if cannon could be
depressed sufficiently to sweep the precipitous sides of the hill. On my
way back to the boat, I turned aside to visit the Jumma Musjid, or chief
Mosque, a large quadrangular wooden building, the roof of which is
supported by deodar columns of great height, each pillar being cut out
of a single tree, but I cannot waste more time over it, the name recalls
to my memory the magnificent Jumma Musjid of Delhi--but comparisons are
odious. When parting with my attendant I felt uncertain whether or no he
would be offended by the offer of a remuneration for his trouble, so I
left him to ask for it, as natives usually do not scruple to request
"bucksheesh" for the most trifling service, but either his orders or his
dignity prevented him from soliciting it, and he went away unrewarded
and I doubt not dissatisfied. After noon I went and selected a lot of
papier maché articles, and gave monograms to be painted upon them. Their
papier maché is fairly made, elaborately painted and moderate in price.
At this shop they prepared some ladâk tea for me, a most delicious
beverage possessing a delicate flavour such as I have never before
tasted in any tea. It was sweetened with a sort of sweet-meat in lieu of
plain sugar.
AUGUST 28th.--A blank day, I have done nothing but fish and only caught
one of moderate size. Early in the morning there was a storm attended
with high wind and heavy rain; it cleared up before sun-rise, but its
effect has been to make the day very pleasantly cool.
AUGUST 29th.--Went up to the Tukh-t-i-Suliman (Solomon's Throne) before
breakfast. It stands one thousand one hundred feet above the town, and
the ascent is effected by means of unhewn stones arranged in the form
of a rough flight of steps built by the Gins, I should fancy for their
own private use and without any consideration for the puny race of
mankind that was destined to follow them. I am a tall man and gifted
with a considerable length of _understanding_ but the strides I was
obliged to take--sometimes almost bounds--if calculated to improve my
muscles, were certainly very trying to my wind. However all things have
an end, and so had that long flight of steps, and at the summit I had
leisure to recover my breath and enjoy the magnificent view. I took care
to have a clear day for this excursion, and the whole valley was seen
stretched out like a map, and spreading far away to the feet of its
stupendous mountain boundaries. The lakes like huge mirrors reflecting a
dazzling radiance. The Jhelum twisting like a "gilded snake" and forming
at the foot of the hill the original of the well-known shawl pattern;
miles upon miles of bright and verdant fields, divided and marked out by
the banks and hedges; clumps and groves of lofty trees diminished by
distance to the appearance of mere dark green bushy excrescences; the
poplar avenue looking like two long and paralleled lines drawn upon the
ground; the fort and hill but a pigmy now; the city of sombre colour,
with its houses closely huddled together and presenting an expanse of
mud--unworthy stone for such a setting! The high and rugged mountains
on every side piercing the clouds, out of which the everlasting snow and
ice rock regions untrod by mortal foot gleam and glisten coldly in the
scene below; these are the constituent parts of a view which taken
altogether ranks among the finest (if indeed it be not itself the
finest) in the world. But I have no description for it as a whole, words
would fail me if I attempted to reproduce it on paper, so you must take
the items and arrange them to your own satisfaction, and wish you had
the opportunity of seeing the glorious original. I am no antiquarian,
but I believe the building itself possesses great interest for those who
indulge in that musty study, on account of its vast antiquity and
uncertain history. To me it is only a Hindoo temple of quaint
architecture and unwholesome smell. Inside it is a small marble idol in
the form of a pillar with a snake carved round it.
AUGUST 30th, Sunday.--The beginning of a fresh week which will at its
conclusion find me on my way homewards, my back turned on the lovely
valley and all the beauties that I have witnessed existing only in my
memory like a pleasant dream that has passed. So wags the world, joys
giving place to sorrows, and sorrows in their turn effaced by fresh
happiness or oblivion. For a little while each one of us plays his ever
varying part in the great drama of life. Now bewailing with bursting
heart, and scalding tears the light affliction which is but for a
moment; now with ringing laugh and reckless gaiety he enjoys the
present, forgetful alike of past and future, now with stormy passions
raging he "like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high
heaven, as make the angels weep;" and then is his short act over, then
the curtain falls and then will he be called before it to receive
approbation? Who can tell, I judge not one individually; but I may
generalize and say, that while as a rule we give a terrible earnestness
to the performance of the _business_ connected with our parts, we too
often fail to appreciate and interpret the _spirit_ of the character,
without which it is of course but a sorry exhibition and one that will
be deservedly damned. As I sit under the shade of the chenars writing, a
young native swell is passing along the opposite bank of the canal--a
mere boy, with gold turban, lofty plume and embroidered clothing, riding
a horse led by two grooms, followed by attendants also mounted, but
sitting two on a horse and preceded by a band consisting only of some
six drummers. He is playing his part doubtless very much to his own
satisfaction, and little thinking that there is one "taking notes" and
laughing at his proceedings. But so it is, we can always see, and
ridicule the faults and foibles of others, would to God we could as
easily perceive and weep over those of our own. The Baboo Mohes Chund
called to pay his farewell visit to me and shortly afterwards sent a
second edition of "russud" including as before--a live sheep.
AUGUST 31st.--My last day in Sreenuggur--and now let me make a few
observations on a topic which I dare say you are surprised has not been
mentioned before, I mean the women; the far-famed beauties of Kashmir. I
am not ungallant, while I have been silent, I have been observing, and
have delayed my remarks in order that they might have the benefit of the
largest experience I could command. I did this the more willingly,
because to tell the truth, I was disappointed at first, and I hoped that
by waiting I might eventually have reason to change my unfavourable
opinion. This however has not been the case, and while I intend to do
full justice to their charms I must commence by saying that they have
been grossly exaggerated. I do not of course allude to the higher
classes. They are invisible; they _may_ be very beautiful, but are never
seen by Europeans. But the middle and lower classes go about with the
face uncovered, exposing themselves to the criticism of some and the
admiration of others, and it is of them I speak. The slim elegant figure
of the Hindoo is seldom seen; they are large, plump, round women. Their
complexion has been absurdly compared to that of our brunettes (may they
feel complimented thereby) but veracity compels me to say that they are
_very dark_. Fair indeed by comparison with the Hindoos, but actually
and unmistakeably copper-coloured not to say _black_. In their features
we find a great improvement; a well-shaped nose replaces the expanded
nostrils, compressed lips, the thick pouting ones, their teeth are of
marvellous whiteness and regularity as are those of all Asiatics. Their
cheeks may sometimes have a tinge of pink, but this is usually veiled by
the darker tint of the "rete mucosum." Their eyes--oh! their eyes!--here
lies their beauty, almond-shaped eyes, that when not in anger cannot
help throwing the sweetest and most captivating glances. None of your
trained disciplined eyes, taught to express feelings that do not exist;
but still eyes that equally deceive, eyes that nature in some strange
freak determined should ever look love. Unconsciously and
unintentionally they dart upon you the brightest, the most tender, nay,
even passionate glances. When looking at a young face, you only see the
eyes; eyes so voluptuous, so maddening, that you exclaim "good heavens
what a beautiful creature," and unless you are a calm and cool analyst
like myself, you may not discover that there is really no beauty save in
them. They dress their hair in a peculiar manner. It is plaited in a
number of small plaits joining two larger ones which fall over the
shoulders and unite in the middle of the back to form a long tail
terminating with a tassel. The larger plaits are mixed with wool, this
adds to their bulk, and increase the length of the tail, which often
extends below the knees. They wear a single loose gown, reaching in
ample folds nearly to the feet. On the head a small red skull cap, over
which is thrown the white (too often dirty) "chudder"--a light cloth
which hangs down the back and is used for veiling the face. The
boatwomen are renowned for their beauty. I have seen but little of it.
The Punditanees are said to be more beautiful than the boatwomen. I
consider them even less so. But among the Nautch girls I have seen both
grace and beauty, and as a class, I certainly think far better looking
than the others. Respect to age is a noble feeling--though one that is
unfortunately at a low ebb now-a-days--but truth, compels me and I must
pronounce all the elderly women to be positively ugly, and a woman is
elderly in Kashmir when in England she still might be called young. The
men are a fine race, regular features, broad shouldered and muscular,
wearing their bushy black beards on their faces, but shaving the head,
which is covered with a small coloured skull cap and white turban. Two
other men have pitched their tents under this tope. To-morrow I shall
leave them in undisturbed possession of the whole. They are friends and
have been travelling in Kashmir. I have had a conversation with one of
them, but I don't like strangers and am glad they did not come before.
SEPTEMBER 1st.--Up and away, taking a last look at the town and bridges,
a last look at the Tukh-t-i-Suliman while floating down the river. I am
on my way to Baramula, having given up my intended visit to Gulmurg, so
that I may get a week at Murree, and see more of the place than I did
when I was last there. Adieu to Sreenuggur, adieu to the Scind, adieu
to Manusbul; gently onwards we go towards lake Wulloor. It is a bright
clear day, one of the brightest among the many bright ones, and the
valley seems smiling upon me an affectionate farewell in order that the
last recollections and parting scene may be a joyful memory to me in
days and years to come. I thank thee for it. When I am gone let
rain-tears fall and clouds of care bewail my absence, but gladden my
departing moments with the full radiance of thy glorious countenance.
Oh! Kashmir, loveliest spot on earth, I owe thee a deep debt of
gratitude, I came to thee weak in body; thou hast restored my strength,
I was poor in thought; thou hast filled my heart with good things, I
was proud in conceit; thou hast shown me nature's grandeur and my own
littleness. With a voiceless tongue thou hast spoken and my spirit has
heard the unuttered words. Tales of the creation when the morning stars
sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy; tales of man and
his works perished in the endless roll of ages; tales of the future when
heaven and earth shall have passed away amid the dread terror of the
great tribulation. Aye, and one more tale, a tale of love, mercy, and
forgiveness; the tale of an Asiatic--who, not far from here, was once
"bruised for our transgressions," who took upon Himself the iniquities
of us all and made up for us a mighty deliverance, and to this tale
there is a refrain that echoes from hill to hill, and spreads along the
plain in endless repetition, "believe only and thou shalt be saved," but
though the command is so simple, its eager passionate tone as it swells
around me, and an earnest mournful cadence as it dies away in the
distance, seems to imply that it is neither easily nor commonly obeyed.
SEPTEMBER 2nd.--Awoke early and found myself in the broad waters of the
lake, the full moon shining brightly in the west, and yet unpaled by the
rosy dawn that was rapidly illuminating the east. Stopped at Sopoor for
breakfast, and Macnamara, surgeon of the 60th Rifles, and his wife,
arrived soon after me, also bound for Murree. Macnamara was at Peshawur
with me, and was one of the committee that sent me away. We passed the
morning in conversation, and at mid-day continued our journey to
Baramula. He told me that he had heard that I was going home this winter
with troops; but I do not know whether his information is reliable. I
trust it may prove to be so, but it has not raised my hopes to a
certainty. It is a good rule never to reckon confidently upon the
achievement of our desires. It never assists to realise them and only
renders the disappointment more bitter in case of failure. I have a
great hope, but I do not forget that obstacles may arise, that while
man proposes God disposes, and often find myself forming plans for next
year under the supposition that I shall still remain in India. I have
written the dedication of this volume and have written it as if I had
already returned to England, and this may appear to indicate that I rely
strongly upon the fulfilment of my expectation. But not so, I can alter
or destroy it if need be, and shall do so with regret indeed, but
without despair. About halfway between Sopoor and Baramula the wind
increased to a gale and obliged me to take refuge under the bank. I
dined with Macnamara and his wife at 8 o'clock, the weather moderated
and we proceeded to Baramula.
SEPTEMBER 3rd.--At sunrise I obtained coolies, and turned my back on
the happy valley for ever. It was a beautiful morning with a golden haze
rising from the ground, the mountains appearing blue and purple against
the eastern halo; but before I had gone a mile a dark cloud gathered
around me, and wept passionate rain. I marched to Naoshera, ten miles,
followed in an hour by Dr. and Mrs. Macnamara who will be my fellow
travellers as far as Murree. The Rohale ferry is re-opened and I am
returning by the direct road on the left bank of the Jhelum. There is a
barahduree at every stage, so I sold my tent at Sreenuggur to render my
baggage lighter. I am travelling with only six coolies. The river is
much lower and less rapid than when I came up it, the excess of water
caused by the melting of the snow during the summer having been carried
off. It is still however a noisy turbulent torrent.
SEPTEMBER 4th.--A long march of fourteen miles to Ooree. The road is
becoming very hilly, but is not as yet nearly so rough and difficult as
on the other side. Passed two ruins; one of then very similar to those
at Wangut, but much smaller.
SEPTEMBER 5th.--To Chukoti, sixteen miles, a severe and fatiguing march,
the hills being intersected by ravines--the beds of streams--to all of
which there was a steep descent and corresponding ascent. This is the
worst march on the Murree road, but though bad, it is much better than
five or six that I described on my journey from Abbottabad. These long
marches are very detrimental to my diary, for at the conclusion I have
no energy either to think or write. I am not using my dandy now, and
have to walk every inch of the way.
SEPTEMBER 6th.--Fifteen weary miles to Huttian, low down on a level with
the river where I found a number of tents belonging to the Lord Bishop
of Calcutta and his Chaplain, who are here with a large retinue of
servants, and are on their way into Kashmir. They had very
considerately and unlike a certain ---- ---- left the bungalow empty for
the use of other travellers. Macnamara sprained his knee yesterday, and
used my dandy to day. One of my coolies stumbled on the road and the
Kitta he was carrying--containing my stores and cooking utensils, went
over the Rhudd and burst open in the fall. Macnamara was behind
fortunately (for me) and superintended the collection of the articles so
that my only loss of any moment is that of my big cooking pot, which
from its weight probably rolled all the way down to the Jhelum--the long
grass growing on the hill, stopped the other things. The six remaining
marches are I am glad to say short. The three last have been a severe
trial on account of the numerous and rough ups and downs, and for the
last mile or two this morning, the soles of my feet were in great pain;
Silly too was very exhausted even to the dropping of his tail.
SEPTEMBER 7th.--Got up at daybreak and marched on Chikar, distance ten
miles. For three miles the road continued along the valley of the
Jhelum, and then turned to the south, and crossed several ranges of
hills, each range rising higher than the one before, very hard work it
was, the ascents being so steep and long--I can't keep my breath going
up hill; it is far more fatiguing than any roughness of road. Chikar is
a good sized village with a fort and is situated on the summit of a
mountain at least two thousand feet above the Jhelum. There is a fine
view of the surrounding hills from the Barahduree. Shortly after our
arrival it began to rain, and has turned out a wet day. I had half my
crockery broken by the coolie dropping the basket instead of putting it
carefully down at the conclusion of the march.
SEPTEMBER 8th.--To Meira, seven and a half miles, a toilsome hill for
half the distance, and then a descent the rest of the way. Scenery very
pretty, the valleys being much larger and the mountains higher. The
Murree ridge is now visible. From this bungalow we can see the next
halting place, half way up a hill on the opposite side of an extensive
valley deeply cut by ravines. The view is really very grand--much the
finest on this road--in some parts it slightly resembles the scenery
around Darjeeling with, of course, pine trees taking the place of
magnolias and rhododendrons. The mere mention of those trees--magnolias
and rhododendrons I mean--will only give you a misconception of the
Sikin forests, because your ideas will be turned to the stunted shrubs
of our northern latitudes. The magnolias and rhododendrons I speak of,
are huge towering trees, taller than the largest oaks. How well I
remember the magnificent spectacle they presented when in blossom! I
have never seen mountains or forests that could compare in grandeur with
those of the eastern Himalayas. Can you imagine Kishun-gunga twenty-nine
thousand feet high? No! it is impossible; it is a sight that produces
the most intense awe, and when I first looked upon it I did not know how
to contain my feelings; but enough, or I shall be giving you a chapter
quite irrevelant to my journey from Kashmir. By the side of this
bungalow stands a large cypress; a very beautiful and by no means a
common tree. There is something peculiarly rich in its dark green
foliage, and withal, melancholy look, but that is doubtless owing to
its tomb--stone associations. Ince in his "Guide," calls it a
_sycamore_. He could hardly have named a tree more widely different.
SEPTEMBER 9th.--To Dunee, eight and a half miles; first half, down hill,
second up: both very steep and rough. A bad fatiguing march. The
barahduree here has been lately white-washed and looks quite refreshing
after the other dirty ones; but the rooms are ridiculously small. This
is the last halt in Kashmirian territory; to-morrow we shall be in a dâk
bungalow. I had a lesson to-day. The same lesson that the spider taught
Bruce--never to cease striving to obtain any desired object; and not
despair even if frequent failures attend the attempt. Ever since I left
Baramula I have been endeavouring to catch another of the green
butterflies, as beetles had eaten my first specimen. But they are very
alert on the wing, and I could not get near one. The last two or three
marches I had not seen any, having got out of their locality, but to-day
a solitary one flew by me and I knocked it down, caught it, and secured
it in my toper. Success will eventually crown all constant endeavours,
it is a slight peg on which to hang a moral, but let it pass. Life is
made up of trifles, and I desire my book to represent my life. A number
of people--ladies, men, and children--came into the bungalow at 2
o'clock, having made a double march and overtaken us; so we are very
closely packed, even the verandah being occupied.
SEPTEMBER 10th.--To Kohala, six miles, nearly all the way down a
terribly steep and rough hill to the banks of the Jhelum--which river
has taken a great bend among the mountains and now runs at right angles
to its former course. A ferry boat crosses the torrent at this spot and
the passage during the summer is attended with considerable danger, as
the stream runs at the rate of twenty miles an hour. I got my baggage in
it and landed upon British soil at the other side. The Dâk bungalow is
just above, but we were very much crowded as all the other people
remained for the night. After dinner a great thunderstorm took place
accompanied with very heavy rain.
SEPTEMBER 11th.--Marched to Dargwal, twelve miles, up hill all the way,
but the road is broad and smooth, so that the march was quickly and
easily accomplished. M---- and his wife did not come in till the middle
of the day as they could not get coolies in time to start early. There
is a good furnished bungalow here, our other fellow travellers have gone
on to Murree, so we have the house to ourselves.
SEPTEMBER 12th.--To Murree, ten miles, road the same as yesterday. Went
to Woodcot, and found Spurgeon, Gordon, and Egerton, of the 36th; Hensma
and Beadnell, 77th; and Dalrymple, 88th. Put up with them sharing
Spurgeon's room. Spent a pleasant time at Murree, doing very little--a
long rest of ten days after my labours--and on the 22nd, at 1 o'clock, I
took my seat in the mail cart with Redan Massy for my companion, and
started on my journey to Peshawur. Arrived at Rawul Birder at 6 in the
evening, and went on at once by the Government van. Had no time for
food. Got to Peshawur at 7 o'clock next morning, and thus ended my three
months sick leave. And now I go back to the din and bustle of life, the
empty conventionalities of society, the noise and glitter of mess; to
the re-pursuit of my profession, and to learn again by the bedside of
many a dying man how weak and powerless is that profession to combat the
ills that flesh is heir to. I sometimes wish I could exchange my present
calling. Terrible thoughts often assail me, after the death of any of my
patients. Questions as to whether I am at all responsible for the fatal
issue. Whether by lack of knowledge that I should possess or by careless
observation during the progress of the disease, I have allowed a man to
die who might have been saved, or pushed into the grave one who was only
trembling with uncertainty upon its brink. Yet as a set off against
these feelings there is the satisfaction experienced when sufferings are
relieved or health restored by the interposition of my aid. The
profession of medicine is potent for good and evil. For good in the
hands of him who makes it his lifelong study; for evil in his hands who
adopts it merely as a respectable means of obtaining his livelihood. It
is noble in the one case; detestable in the other. You do not know how
detestable. If the vail could be raised, if you could see the vast
amount of misery and suffering caused, the many hearts broken that God
would not have made sad; and the many unprepared souls hurried out of
this life into eternity by the ignorance of men who are "licensed to
kill," you would cry out against the whole body of the profession with a
bitter hatred, that even the army of noble and devoted minds amongst us
would be unable to appease. Am I too severe? I fear not. There are
charlatans and know nothings in every pursuit, but in mine they effect
so seriously the temporal and may be eternal welfare of mankind that
their existence is awful to contemplate. Shall I, in conclusion, write
an apology for having nothing better than the foregoing to offer for
your perusal "devil a bit." If I have written folly and you have read it
all, why, you are the greater simpleton. To me it was an occupation when
I had nothing better to do, on your part it was a foolish waste of
time, which might have been more profitably employed. If I have written
folly and you have _not_ read it, what necessity is there for me to
apologize to you? If I have written sense and you consider it nonsense,
you owe me an apology for your erroneous opinion. But if I have written
sense and you have derived pleasure from the perusal of it, then we are
both content, and I need neither forefend your criticism nor beg your
excuses. Thus then I have proved that though it may possibly be
necessary for you to apologize to me, it cannot under any circumstance
be needful for me to apologize to you. But there is a small class to
whom the above remarks do not apply. I mean those few who I delight to
think will read my book diligently and admiringly, merely because _I_
wrote it. Whose judgment is warped by their affection, and who will be
unconscious of the weary yawn my pages may often produce. Shall I
apologize to them? No! let them read, let them yawn; T'is a labour of
love on their part, a labour which _love_ has prepared for them--and for
them alone--or mine.
And now farewell. May your shadow _never_ grow less! May you live for a
thousand years.
HAZOR SALAAM.
JANUARY 16th, 1869.--If these notes should ever be written out by my
relations after my death--for I am now like to die, let me beg that the
many mistakes in spelling, consequent upon the hurry and roughness of
the writing, may by corrected and not set down to ignorance.
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.
Prince Frederic of Schleswig Holstein.
His Excellency Lieut.-General E. Frome, R.E., Governor of Guernsey.
Sir P. Stafford Carey, Bailiff of Guernsey.
Edgar MacCulloch, Esq., Lieutenant-Bailiff.
William Wallace Armstrong, Esq., San Francisco. A.B.
Mrs. Boucaut, Guernsey.
General Sir George Brooke, K.C.B., R.H.A.
Lieut.-Col. H.J. Buchanan, 2-9th Regiment.
Major Henry L. Brownrigg, 84th Regiment.
Henry S.R. Bagenal, Esq., Control Department.
Captain George P. Beamish, 36th Regiment.
Mr. George Beedle, Quarter-Master 6th Regiment.
A. Brown, Esq., National Provincial Bank of England.
J. P. Bainbrigge, Esq., Bank of England, Liverpool.
J. Banckes, Esq., Shipwrecked Mariners' Society.
Mrs. Crawford, Guernsey.
Mrs. Cunnynghame, Edinburgh.
W. Collins, Esq., M.D., Scots Fusilier Guards.
Mrs. Cave, Hartley Whitney, Hants.
Captain G. Collis, 6th Regiment.
Colonel Conran, Fitzroy, Melbourne.
H. Couling, Esq., Brighton.
H. Cuppaidge, Esq.
Miss Dugdale, 75, Gloucester Terrace, Hyde Park, W.
Miss E. Donne, Grove Terrace Highgate.
Miss Donne, Salisbury.
James D'Altera, Esq., M.D.
James Deane, Esq., Queenstown, Cork.
W.G. Don, Esq., M.D.
Dr. Drewitt, Wimborne, Dorset.
Dr. Dudfield, 8, Upper Phillimore Place, Kensington, W.
B. De Marylski, Esq., Royal Artillery.
Captain P. De Saumarez, Guernsey.
Captain D.K. Evans, 6th Regiment.
Mrs. W. Foster, 7, Lower Berkeley Street, London.
Mrs. E. Foster, 10, Chester Terrace, Regent's Park.
Mrs. Feilden, Isle of Herm.
Major-Gen. Sampson Freeth, late Royal Engineers.
Major-Gen. James H. Freeth, late Royal Engineers.
Colonel Foster, late 16th Lancers.
The Rev. W. Foran, Guernsey.
Walter Freeth Esq., Croydon.
Henry Foster Esq., Victoria Road, Kensington.
Patterson Foster, Esq.
Kingsly, O. Foster, Esq.
Mrs. F.W. Gosselin, Guernsey.
Rev. F. Giffard, The Vicarage, Hartley Wintney.
John C. Guerin, Esq., Guernsey.
S.M. Gully, Esq., 9th Regiment.
F.L. Grundy, Esq., 6th Regiment.
M. Garnier, Guernsey.
Mrs. Horridge.
Lieut.-Col. Fitzwilliam Hunter, 36th Regiment.
T. Holmes, Esq., 18, Great Cumberland Place, Hyde Park.
Captain J.B. Hopkins, 6th Regiment.
Reginald Hollingworth, Esq., late 77th Regiment.
T. Husband, Esq., 34, Argyle Road, Kensington.
Charles Hogge, Esq., 6th Regiment.
In Memoriam.
Miss B.S.H. Coventry Jeffery.
Captain A.H. Josselyn, 9th Regiment.
J.W. Jones, Esq., 5th Dragoon Guards.
The Rev. Charles Kingsley, M.A.
Mr. J. Kenwood, Hartley Wintney.
Mrs. Le Marchant Thomas Le Marchant, Guernsey.
Miss Lefebvre, Guernsey.
Mrs. La Serre, Guernsey.
Sir T. Galbraith Logan, K.C.B., Director General.
Thomas Lacy, Esq., Guernsey.
Major R.B. Lloyd, 36th Regiment.
"Library," Officers, 36th Regiment.
Mr. Thomas Lenfestey, Guernsey.
Mrs. MacPherson, Guernsey.
Mrs. Mogg, Clifton.
Mrs. Peter Martin, Guernsey.
Mrs. Myers, Guernsey.
A.D. MacGregor, Esq., Guernsey.
Capt. A.E. Morgan, late 71st Highland Lt. Inf.
Captain J.W. Massey, 9th Regiment.
J.W. Morgan, Esq., 6th Regiment.
James E. Macdonnel, Esq., 9th Regiment.
W.H. Marriot, Esq., 36th Regiment.
S.M. Maxwell, Esq., 36th Regiment.
A. Morgan, Esq., Treasurer, S.W. Railway.
The Mess, 36th Regiment.
W. Moullin, Esq., Clifton.
Miss A.M. Newman, Cheltenham.
The Rev. E.J. Ozanne, M.A., Guernsey.
Captain J. Osmer, 36th Regiment.
E.F. O'Leary, Esq., 6th Regiment.
Mrs. Joshua Priaulx, Guernsey.
Mr. Charles Palmer, Hartley Wintney.
Miss M. Pittard Guernsey.
Colonel Priaulx, Guernsey.
Colonel Lewis Peyton.
G. Pollock, Esq., 36, Grosvenor Street, London, W.
C.W. Poulton, Esq., 35th Regiment.
G. Pound; Esq., Odiham, Hants.
Mrs. Ramsay, Isle of Sark.
John Roberts, Esq., M.D., Guernsey.
George M. Richmond, Esq., 36th Regiment.
J.L. Rose, Esq., 36th Regiment.
Mrs. Sandes, St. John's Hill, London, S.W.
Mrs. R. Smith, Guernsey.
Lieut.-Col. R. Scott, Fort George, Aberdeen.
Major Charles Stirling, late Royal Artillery.
Dr. Fowler Smith, District Recruiting Office, Peterborough.
Capt. C. Spurgeon, 36th Regiment.
Capt. H. Stopford, 36th Regiment.
W. Smail, Esq., 36th Regiment.
R.B. Smyth, Esq., M.B. 102d Regiment.
Mrs. Threllfall, Ferryside, South Wales.
Capt. C. Townsend, Royal Artillery.
D. Thorburn, Esq., M.D., 8th Hussars.
Mrs. Wren, 3 Paris Square, Bayswater.
Charles Williams, Esq., Guernsey.
Watkin S. Whylock, Esq., M.D., Assist.-Surgeon.
Capt. H. Webb, 36th Regiment.
Mr Wetheral, Oak Lodge, Winchfield.
Netley Library.
And "Others received too late for publication."
LE LIEVRE, PRINTER, STAR-OFFICE, BORDAGE-STREET.
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