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Himalayan Journals — Complete

by Joseph Dalton Hooker · English · Gutenberg #6478 · 1,695,907 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Himalayan Journals — Complete

Author: Joseph Dalton Hooker


        
Release date: September 1, 2004 [eBook #6478]
                Most recently updated: June 21, 2020

Language: English

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Credits: Scanned by Derek Thompson


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[Illustration]




Himalayan Journals

OR,
NOTES OF A NATURALIST

IN BENGAL, THE SIKKIM AND NEPAL HIMALAYAS,
THE KHASIA MOUNTAINS, &C.

by J.D. Hooker,

K.C.S.I., C.B., M.D., D.C.L., F.R.S.

1891

Contents

PREFACE

CHAPTER I

Sunderbunds vegetation—Calcutta Botanic Garden—Leave for
Burdwan—Rajah’s gardens and menagerie—Coal-beds, geology, and plants
of—Lac insect and plant—Camels—Kunker—Cowage—Effloresced soda on
soil—Glass, manufacture of—Atmospheric vapours—Temperature, etc.—Mahowa
oil and spirits—Maddaobund—Jains—Ascent of Paras-nath—Vegetation of
that mountain.

CHAPTER II

Doomree—Vegetation of table-land—Lieutenant Beadle—Birds—Hot springs of
Soorujkoond—Plants near them—Shells in
them—Cholera-tree—Olibanum—Palms, form of—Dunwah pass—Trees, native and
planted —Wild peacock—Poppy fields—Geography and geology of Behar and
Central India—Toddy-palm—Ground, temperature of—Baroon—Temperature of
plants—Lizard—Cross the Soane—Sand, ripple-marks on—Kymore
hills—Ground, temperature of—Limestone—Rotas fort and palace—Nitrate of
lime—Change of climate—Lime stalagmites, enclosing leaves—Fall of
Soane—Spiders, etc.—Scenery and natural history of upper Soane
valley—_Hardwickia binata_—Bhel
fruit—Dust-storm—Alligator—Catechu—_Cochlospermum_—Leaf-bellows—
Scorpions—Tortoises—Florican—Limestone
spheres—Coles—Tiger-hunt—Robbery.

CHAPTER III

Ek-powa Ghat—Sandstones—Shahgunj—Table-land, elevation,
etc.—Gum-arabic—Mango—Fair—Aquatic plants—Rujubbund—Storm—False sunset
and sunrise—Bind hills—Mirzapore—Manufactures, imports,
etc.—Climate—Thuggee—Chunar—Benares—Mosque—Observatory—Sar-nath—
Ghazeepore—Rose-gardens—Manufactory of attar—Lord Cornwallis’
tomb—Ganges, scenery and natural history
of—Pelicans—Vegetation—Insects—Dinapore—Patna—Opium godowns and
manufacture—Mudar, white and purple—Monghyr islets—Hot springs of
Seetakoond—Alluvium of Ganges—Rocks of Sultun-gunj—Bhaugulpore—Temples
of Mt. Manden—Coles and native tribes—Bhaugulpore rangers—Horticultural
gardens.

CHAPTER IV

Leave Bhaugulpore—Kunker—Colgong—Himalaya, distant view of—Cosi, mouth
of—Difficult
navigation—Sand-storms—Caragola-Ghat—Purnea—Ortolans—Mahanuddy,
transport of pebbles, etc.—Betel-pepper, cultivation
of—Titalya—Siligoree—View of outer
Himalaya—Terai—Mechis—Punkabaree—Foot of mountains—Ascent to
Dorjiling—Cicadas—Leeches—Animals—Kursiong, spring vegetation
of—Pacheem—Arrive at Dorjiling—Dorjiling, origin and settlement
of—Grant of land from Rajah—Dr. Campbell appointed
superintendent—Dewan, late and present—Aggressive conduct of the
latter—Increase of the station—Trade—Titalya fair—Healthy climate for
Europeans and children—Invalids, diseases prejudicial to.

CHAPTER V

View from Mr. Hodgson’s of range of snowy mountains—Their extent and
elevation—Delusive appearance of elevation—Sinchul, view from and
vegetation of—Chumulari—Magnolias, white and purple—_Rhododendron
Dalhousiæ, arboreum_ and _argentium_—Natives of Dorjiling—Lepchas,
origin, tradition of flood, morals, dress, arms, ornaments, diet—Cups,
origin and value—Marriages—Diseases—Burial—Worship and
religion—Bijooas—Kumpa Rong, or Arrat—Limboos, origin, habits,
language, etc.—Moormis—Magras—Mechis—Comparison of customs with those
of the natives of Assam, Khasia, etc.

CHAPTER VI

Excursion from Dorjiling to Great Rungeet—Zones of
vegetation—Tree-ferns—Palms, upper limit of—Leebong, tea
plantations—Ging—Boodhist remains—Tropical vegetation—Pines—Lepcha
clearances—Forest fires—Boodhist monuments—Fig—Cane-bridge and raft
over Rungeet—Sago-palm—India-rubber—Yel Pote—Butterflies and other
insects—Snakes—Camp—Temperature and humidity of atmosphere—Junction of
Teesta and Rungeet—Return to Dorjiling—Tonglo, excursion to—Bamboo,
flowering—Oaks—_Gordonia_—Maize, hermaphrodite
flowered—Figs—Nettles—Peepsa—Simonbong, cultivation at—European fruits
at Dorjiling—Plains of India.

CHAPTER VII

Continue the ascent of Tonglo—Trees—Lepcha construction of
hut—Simsibong—Climbing-trees—Frogs—Magnolias,
etc.—Ticks—Leeches—Cattle, murrain amongst—Summit of
Tonglo—Rhododendrons—_Skimmia_—Yew—Rose—Aconite—Bikh poison—English
genera of plants—Ascent of tropical orders—Comparison with south
temperate zone—Heavy rain—Temperature, etc.—Descent—Simonbong
temple—Furniture therein—Praying-cylinder—Thigh-bone trumpet—Morning
orisons—Present of Murwa beer, etc.

CHAPTER VIII

Difficulty in procuring leave to enter Sikkim—Obtain permission to
travel in East Nepal—Arrangements—Coolies—Stores—Servants—Personal
equipment—Mode of travelling—Leave Dorjiling—Goong ridge—Behaviour of
Bhotan coolies—Nepal frontier—Myong valley—Ilam—Sikkim
massacre—Cultivation—Nettles—Camp at Nanki on Tonglo—Bhotan coolies run
away—View of Chumulari—Nepal peaks to west—Sakkiazong—_Buceros_—Road to
Wallanchoon—Oaks—Scarcity of water—Singular view of
mountain-valleys—Encampment—My tent and its furniture—Evening
occupations—Dunkotah-Cross ridge of Sakkiazong—Yews—Silver-firs-View of
Tambur valley—Pemmi river—Pebbly terraces—Geology—Holy springs—Enormous
trees—_Luculia gratissima_—Khawa river, rocks of—Arrive at
Tambur—Shingle and gravel terraces—Natives, indolence of—Canoe
ferry—Votive offerings—Bad road—Temperature, etc.—Chingtam village,
view from—Mywa river and Guola—House—Boulders—Chain-bridge—Meepo,
arrival of—Fevers.

CHAPTER IX

Leave Mywa—Suspension bridge—Landslips—Vegetation—Slope of
river-bed—Bees’ nests—Glacial phenomena—Tibetans, clothing, ornaments,
amulets, salutation, children, dogs—Last Limboo village,
Taptiatok—Beautiful scenery—Tibet village of
Lelyp—_Opuntia—Edgeworthia_—Crab-apple—Chameleon and
porcupine—Praying-machine—_Abies Brunoniana_—European plants—Grand
scenery—Arrive at Wallanchoon—Scenery around—Trees—Tibet houses—Manis
and Mendongs—Tibet household—Food—Tea-soup—Hospitality—Yaks and Zobo,
uses and habits of—Bhoteeas—Yak-hair tents—Guobah of
Walloong—Jatamansi—Obstacles to proceeding—Climate and
weather—Proceed—Rhododendrons, etc.—Lichens—_Poa annua_ and Shepherd’s
purse—Tibet camp—Tuquoroma—Scenery of pass—Glaciers and
snow—Summit—Plants, woolly, etc.

CHAPTER X

Return from Wallanchoon pass—Procure a bazaar at village—Dance of
Lamas—Blackening face, Tibetan custom of—Temple and convent—Leave for
Kanglachem pass—Send part of party back to Dorjiling—Yangma
Guola—Drunken Tibetans—Guobah of Wallanchoon—Camp at foot of Great
Moraine—View from top—Geological speculations—Height of moraines—Cross
dry lake-bed—Glaciers—More moraines—Terraces—Yangma temples—Jos, books
and furniture—Peak of Nango—Lake—Arrive at
village—Cultivation—Scenery—Potatos—State of my provisions—Pass through
village—Gigantic boulders—Terraces—Wild sheep—Lake-beds—Sun’s
power—Piles of gravel and detritus—Glaciers and moraines—Pabuk,
elevation of—Moonlight scene—Return to Yangma—Temperature,
etc.—Geological causes of phenomena in valley—Scenery of valley on
descent.

CHAPTER XI

Ascend to Nango mountain—Moraines—Glaciers—Vegetation—_Rhododendron
Hodgsoni_—Rocks—Honey-combed surface of snow—Perpetual snow—Top of
pass—View—Elevation—Geology—Distance of
sound—Plants—Temperature—Scenery—Cliffs of granite and hurled
boulders—Camp—Descent—Pheasants—Larch—Himalayan pines—Distribution of
Deodar, note on—Tassichooding temples—Kambachen
village—Cultivation—Moraines in valley, distribution of—Picturesque
lake-beds, and their vegetation—Tibetan sheep and goats—_Cryptogramma
crispa_—Ascent to Choonjerma pass—View of Junnoo—Rocks of its
summit—Misty ocean—Nepal peaks—Top of pass—Temperature, and
observations—Gorgeous sunset—Descent to Yalloong valley—Loose
path—Night scenes—Musk deer.

CHAPTER XII

Yalloong valley—Find Kanglanamo pass closed—Change route for the
southward—_Picrorhiza_—View of Kubra—_Rhododendron Falconeri_—Yalloong
river—Junction of gneiss and clay-slate—Cross Yalloong
range—View—Descent—Yew—Vegetation—Misty weather—Tongdam
village—Khabang—Tropical vegetation—Sidingbah mountain—View of
Kinchinjunga—Yangyading village—Slopes of hills, and courses of
rivers—Khabili valley—Ghorkha Havildar’s bad conduct—Ascend
Singalelah—Plague of ticks—Short commons—Cross Islumbo pass—Boundary of
Sikkim—Kulhait valley—Lingcham—Reception by Kajee—Hear of Dr.
Campbell’s going to meet Rajah—Views in valley—Leave for Teesta
river—Tipsy Kajee—Hospitality—Murwa beer—Temples—_Acorus Calamus_—Long
Mendong—Burning of dead—Superstitions—Cross Great Rungeet—Boulders,
origin of—Purchase of a dog—Marshes—Lamas—Dismiss Ghorkhas—Bhoteea
house—Murwa beer.

CHAPTER XIII

Raklang pass—Uses of nettles—Edible plants—Lepcha war—Do-mani
stone—Neongong—Teesta valley—Pony, saddle, etc.—Meet
Campbell—Vegetation and scenery—Presents—Visit of Dewan—Characters of
Rajah and Dewan—Accounts of Tibet—Lhassa—Siling—Tricks of Dewan—Walk up
Teesta—Audience of Rajah—Lamas—Kajees—Tchebu Lama, his character and
position—Effects of interview—Heir-apparent—Dewan’s
house—Guitar—Weather—Fall of river—Tibet officers—Gigantic
trees—Neongong lake—Mainom, ascent of—Vegetation—Camp on
snow—Silver-firs—View from top—Kinchin, etc.—Geology—Vapours—Sunset
effect—Elevation—Temperature, etc.—Lamas of Neongong—Temples—Religious
festival Bamboo, flowering—Recross pass of Raklang—Numerous temples,
villages, etc.—Domestic animals—Descent to Great Rungeet.

CHAPTER XIV

Tassiding, view of and from—Funereal cypress—Camp at Sunnook—Hot
vapours—Lama’s house—Temples, decorations, altars, idols, general
effect—Chaits—Date of erection—Plundered by Ghorkas—Cross Ratong—Ascend
to Pemiongehi—Relation of river-beds to strike of rocks—Slopes of
ravines—Pemiongehi, view of—Vegetation—Elevation—Temple, decorations,
etc.—Former capital of Sikkim—History of Sikkim—Nightingales—Campbell
departs—Tchonpong—_Edgeworthia_—Cross Rungbee and Ratong—Hoar-frost on
plantains—Yoksun—Walnuts—View—Funereal cypresses—Doobdi—Gigantic
cypresses—Temples—Snow-fall—Sikkim, etc.—Toys.

CHAPTER XV

Leave Yoksun for Kinchinjunga—Ascend Ratong valley—Salt-smuggling over
Ratong—Landslips—Plants—Buckeem—Blocks of gneiss—Mon
Lepcha—View—Weather—View from Gubroo—Kinchinjunga, tops
of—Pundimcliff—Nursing—Vegetation of Himalaya—_Coup d’œil_ of
Jongri—Route to Yalloong—Arduous route of salt-traders from
Tibet—Kinchin, ascent of—Lichens—Surfaces sculptured by snow and
ice—Weather at Jongri—Snow—Shades for eyes.

CHAPTER XVI

Ratong river below Mon Lepcha—Ferns—Vegetation of Yoksun,
tropical—_Araliaceæ_, fodder for cattle—Rice-paper plant—Geology of
Yoksun—Lake—Old temples—Funereal cypresses—Gigantic
chart—Altars—Songboom—Weather—Catsuperri—Velocity of Ratong—Worship at
Catsuperri lake—Scenery—Willow—Lamas and ecclesiastical establishments
of Sikkim—Tengling—Changachelling temples and monks—Portrait of myself
on walls—Block of mica-schist—Lingcham Kajee asks for
spectacles—Hee-hill—Arrive at Little Rungeet—At Dorjiling—Its deserted
and wintry appearance.

CHAPTER XVII

Dispatch
collections—Acorns—Heat—Punkabaree—Bees—Vegetation—Haze—Titalya—
Earthquake—Proceed to Nepal frontier—Terai, geology of—Physical
features of Himalayan valleys—Elephants, purchase of,
etc.—River-beds—Mechi river—Return to Titalya—Leave for Teesta—Climate
of plains—Jeelpigoree—Cooches—Alteration in the appearance of country
by fires, etc.—Grasses—Bamboos—Cottages—Rajah of Cooch Behar—Condition
of people—Hooli festival—Ascend
Teesta—Canoes—Cranes—Forest—Baikant-pore—Rummai—Religion—Plants at foot
of mountains—Exit of Teesta—Canoe voyage down to Rangamally—English
genera of plants—Birds—Beautiful scenery—Botanizing on
elephants—Willow—Siligoree—Cross Terai—Geology—Iron—Lohar-ghur—Coal and
sandstone beds—Mechi fisherman—Hailstorm—Ascent to Kursiong—To
Dorjiling—Vegetation—Geology—Folded quartz-beds—Spheres of
feldspar—Lime deposits.

CHAPTER XVIII

Arrangements for second journey into Sikkim—Opposition of Dewan—Lassoo
Kajee—Tendong—Legend of flood—Lama of Silok-foke—Namtchi—Tchebu
Lama—Top of Tendong—Gigantic oak—Plants—Teesta valley—Commencement of
rains—Bhomsong—Ascent to Lathiang—View—Bad road—Orchids—Gorh—Opposition
of Lama—Arrival of Meepo—Cross Teesta—Difficulties of
travelling—Lepchas swimming—Moxa for sprains—Singtam—Grandeur of view
of Kinchinjunga—Wild men—Singtam Soubah—Landslips—Bees’ nests and
honey-seekers—Leeches, etc.—Chakoong—Vegetation—Gravel
terraces—Unpleasant effects of wormwood—Choongtam, scenery and
vegetation of—Inhabitants—Tibetan salute—Lamas—Difficulty of procuring
food—Contrast of vegetation of inner and outer
Himalaya—Rhododendrons—Yew—_Abies Brunoniana_—Venomous snakes—Hornets
and other insects—Choongtam temple—Pictures of Lhassa—Minerals—Scenery.

CHAPTER XIX

Routes from Choongtam to Tibet frontier—Choice of that by the Lachen
river—Arrival of supplies—Departure—Features of the valley—Eatable
_Polygonum_—Tumlong—Cross Taktoong river—Pines, larches, and other
trees—Chateng pool—Water-plants and insects—Tukcham mountain—Lamteng
village—Inhabitants—Alpine monkey—Botany of temperate Himalaya—European
and American fauna—Japanese and Malayan genera—Superstitious objections
to shooting—Customs of people—Rain—Run short of provisions—Altered
position of Tibet frontier—Zemu Samdong—Imposition—Vegetation—Uses of
pines—Ascent to Thlonok river—Balanophora wood for making
cups—Snow-beds—Eatable mushrooms and _Smilacina_—Asarabacca—View of
Kinchinjunga—Arum-roots, preparation of for food—Liklo
mountain—Behaviour of my party—Bridge constructed over Zemu—Cross
river—Alarm of my party—Camp on Zemu river.

CHAPTER XX

Camp on Zemu river—Scenery—Falling rocks—Tukcham mountain—Height of
glaciers—Botany—Gigantic rhubarb—Insects—Storm—Temperature of
rivers—Behaviour of Lachen Phipun—Hostile conduct of Bhoteeas—View from
mountains above camp—Descend to Zemu Samdong—Vegetation—Letters from
Dorjiling—Arrival of Singtam Soubah—Presents from Rajah—Parties
collecting arum-roots—Insects—Ascend Lachen river—Thakya-zong—Tallum
Samdong
village—Cottages—Mountains—Plants—Entomology—Weather—Halo—Diseases—
Conduct of Singtam Soubah—His character and illness—Agrees to take me
to Kongra Lama—Tungu—Appearance of country—Houses—Poisoning by
aram-roots—Yaks and calves—Tibet ponies—Journey to Kongra Lama—Tibetan
tents—Butter, curds, and churns—Hospitality—Kinchinjhow and
Chomiomo—Magnificent scenery—Reach Kongra Lama pass.

CHAPTER XXI

Top of Kongra Lama—Tibet frontier—Elevation—View—Vegetation—Descent to
Tungu—Tungu-choo—Ponies—Kinchinjhow and Chango-khang mountains—Palung
plains—Tibetans—Dogs—Dingcham province of
Tibet—Inhabitants—Dresses—Women’s ornaments—Blackening
faces—Coral—Tents—Elevation of Palung—Lama—Shawl-wool
goats—Shearing—Siberian plants—Height of glaciers, and perpetual
snow—Geology—Plants, and wild animals—Marmots—Insects—Birds—Choongtam
Lama—Religious exercises—Tibetan hospitality—_Delphinium_—Perpetual
snow—Temperature at Tungu—Return to Tallum Samdong—To
Lamteng—Houses—Fall of barometer—Cicadas—Lime
deposits—Landslips—Arrival at Choongtam—Cobra—Rageu—Heat of
climate—Velocity and volume of rivers measured—Leave for Lachoong
valley—Keadom—General features of valley—Lachoong village—Tunkra
mountain—Moraines—Cultivation—Lachoong Phipun—Lama ceremonies beside a
sick-bed.

CHAPTER XXII

Leave Lachoong for Tunkra pass—Moraines and their vegetation—Pines of
great dimensions—Wild currants—Glaciers—Summit of
pass—Elevation—Views—Plants—Winds—Choombi district—Lacheepia
rock—Extreme cold—Kinchinjunga—Himalayan grouse—Meteorological
observations—Return to Lachoong—Oaks—Ascend to Yeumtong—Flats and
debacles—Buried pine-trunks—Perpetual snow—Hot springs—Behaviour of
Singtam Soubah—Leave for Momay Samdong—Upper limit of
trees—Distribution of plants—Glacial terraces, etc.—Forked
Donkia—Moutonneed rocks—Ascent to Donkia
pass—Vegetation—Scenery—Lakes—Tibet—Bhomtso—Arun river—Kiang-lah
mountains—Yaru-Tsampu river—Appearance of
Tibet—Kambajong—Jigatzi—Kinchinjhow, and Kinchinjunga—Chola
range—Deceptive appearance of distant landscape—Perpetual
snow—Granite—Temperatures—Pulses—Plants—Tripe de roche—Return to
Momay—Dogs and yaks—Birds—Insects—Quadrupeds—Hot
springs—Marmots—Kinchinjhow glacier.

CHAPTER XXIII

Donkia glaciers—Moraines—Dome of ice—Honey-combed surface—Rocks of
Donkia—Metamorphic action of granite veins—Accident to
instruments—Sebolah pass—Bees and May-flies—View—Temperature—Pulses of
party—Lamas and travellers at Momay—Weather and climate—Dr. Campbell
leaves Dorjiling for Sikkim—Leave Momay—Yeumtong—Lachoong—Retardation
of vegetation at low elevations—Choongtam—Landslips and debacle—Meet
Dr. Campbell—Motives for his journey—Second visit to Lachen
valley—Autumnal tints—Red currants—Lachen
Phipun—Tungu—Scenery—Animals—Poisonous
rhododendrons—Fire-wood—Palung—Elevations—Sitong—Kongra
Lama—Tibetans—Enter Tibet—Desolate
scenery—Plants—Animals—Geology—Cholamoo lakes—Antelopes—Return to
Yeumtso—Dr. Campbell lost—Extreme cold—Headaches—Tibetan Dingpun and
guard—Arms and accoutrements—Temperature of Yeumtso—Migratory
birds—Visit of Dingpun—Yeumtso lakes.

CHAPTER XXIV

Ascent of Bhomtso—View of snowy mountains—Chumulari—Arun
river—Kiang-lah mountains—Jigatzi—Lhassa—Dingcham province of
Tibet—Misapplication of term “Plain of Tibet”—Sheep, flocks
of—Crops—Probable elevation of Jigatzi—Yaru-Tsampu river—Tame
elephants—Wild horses—Dryness of air—Sunset beams—Rocks of
Kinchinjhow—Cholamoo lakes—Limestone—Dip and strike of rocks—Effects of
great elevation on party—Ascent of Donkia—Moving piles of debris—Cross
Donkia pass—Second visit to Momay Samdong—Hot springs—Descent to
Yeumtong—Lachoong—Retardation of vegetation again noticed—Jerked
meat—Fish—Lose a thermometer—Lepcha lad sleeps in hot
spring—Keadom—_Bucklandia_—Arrive at
Choongtam—Mendicant—Meepo—Lachen-Lachoong river—Wild grape—View from
Singtam of Kinchinjunga—Virulent nettle.

CHAPTER XXV

Journey to the Rajah’s residence at Tumloong—Ryott valley—Rajah’s
house—Tupgain Lama—Lagong nunnery—Phadong Goompa—Phenzong ditto—Lepcha
sepoys—Proceedings at Tumloong—Refused admittance to Rajah—Women’s
dresses—Meepo’s and Tchebu Lama’s families—Chapel—Leave for Chola
pass—Ryott river—Rungpo, view from—Deputation of Kajees,
etc.—Conference—Laghep—Eatable fruit of
_Decaisnea—Cathcartia_—Rhododendrons—Phieung-goong—Pines—Rutto
river—Barfonchen—Curling of rhododendron leaf—Woodcock—Chola pass—Small
lakes—Tibet guard and sepoys—Dingpun—Arrival of Sikkim sepoys—Their
conduct—Meet Singtam Soubah—Chumanako—We are seized by the Soubah’s
party—Soubah’s conduct—Dingpun Tinli—Treatment of Dr. Campbell—Bound
and guarded—Separated from Campbell—Marched to Tumloong—Motives for
such conduct—Arrive at Rungpo—At Phadong—Presents from Rajah—Visits of
Lama—Of Singtam Soubah—I am cross-questioned by Amlah—Confined with
Campbell—Seizure of my Coolies—Threats of attacking Dorjiling.

CHAPTER XXVI

Dr. Campbell is ordered to appear at Durbar—Lamas called to
council—Threats—Scarcity of food—Arrival of Dewan—Our jailer,
Thoba-sing—Temperature, etc., at Tumloong—Services of Goompas—Lepcha
girl—Jews’-harp—Terror of servants—Ilam-sing’s family—Interview with
Dewan—Remonstrances—Dewan feigns sickness—Lord Dalhousie’s letter to
Rajah—Treatment of Indo-Chinese—Concourse of Lamas—Visit of Tchebu
Lama—Close confinement—Dr. Campbell’s illness—Conference with
Amlah—Relaxation of confinement—Pemiongchi Lama’s intercession—Escape
of Nimbo—Presents from Rajah, Ranee, and people—Protestations of
friendship—Mr. Lushington sent to Dorjiling—Leave Tumloong—Cordial
farewell—Dewan’s merchandize—Gangtok Kajee—Dewan’s
pomp—Governor-General’s letter—Dikkeeling—Suspicion of poison—Dinner
and pills—Tobacco—Bhotanese colony—Katong-ghat on Teesta—Wild
lemons—Sepoys’ insolence—Dewan alarmed—View of Dorjiling—Threats of a
rescue—Fears of our escape—Tibet flutes—Negotiate our release—Arrival
at Dorjiling—Dr. Thomson joins me—Movement of troops at
Dorjiling—Seizure of Rajah’s Terai property.

CHAPTER XXVII

Leave Dorjiling for Calcutta—Jung Bahadoor—Dr. Falconer—Improvements in
Botanic Gardens—Palmetum—Victoria—_Amherstia_—Orchids spread by
seed—Banyan—_Cycas_—Importation of American plants in ice—Return to
Dorjiling—Leave with Dr. Thomson for the Khasia mountains—Mahanuddy
river—Vegetation of banks—Maldah—Alligators—Rampore-Bauleah—Climate of
Ganges—Pubna—Jummul river—Altered course of Burrampooter and
Megna—Dacca—Conch shells—Saws—Cotton
muslins—Fruit—Vegetation—Elevation—Rose of Bengal—Burrampooter—Delta of
Soormah river—Jheels—Soil—Vegetation—Navigation—Mosquitos—Atmospheric
pressure—Effects of geological changes—Imbedding of plants—Teelas or
islets—Chattuc—Salubrious climate—Rains—Canoes—Pundua—Mr. Harry
Inglis—Terrya Ghat—Ascent to Churra—Scenery and vegetation at foot of
mountains—Cascades.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Churra, English station of—Khasia people—Garrow
people—Houses—Habits—Dress—Arms—Dialects—Marriages—Food—Funerals—Superstitions—Flat
of Churra—Scenery—Lime and coal—Mamloo—Cliffs—Cascades—_Chamærops_
palm—Jasper-rocks—Flora of
Churra—Orchids—Rhododendrons—Pine—Climate—Extraordinary rain-fall—Its
effects—Gardens of Lieuts. Raban and Cave—Leave Churra to cross the
mountain range—Coal, shale, and under-clay—Kala-panee
river—Lailangkot—_Luculia Pinceana_—Conglomerate—Surureem
wood—Boga-panee river—View of Himalaya—Greenstone—Age of
pine-cones—Moflong plants—_Coix_—Chillong mountain—Extensive
view—Road to Syong—Broad valleys—Geology—Plants—Myrung—Granite
blocks—Kollong rock—Pine-woods—Features of country—Orchids—Iron
forges.

CHAPTER XXIX

View of Himalaya from the Khasia—Great masses of
snow—Chumulari—Donkia—Grasses—Nunklow—Assam valley and
Burrampooter—Tropical forest—Bor-panee—Rhododendrons—Wild
elephants—Blocks of Syenite—Return to Churra—Coal—August
temperature—Leave for Chela—Jasper hill—Birds—_Arundina_—Habits of
leaf-insects—Curious village—Houses—Canoes—Boga-panee
river—Jheels—Chattuc—Churra—Leave for Jyntea hills—Trading
parties—Dried
fish—Cherries—Cinnamon—Fraud—Pea-violet—Nonkreem—Sandstone—Pines—
Granite boulders—Iron washing—Forges—Tanks—Siberian _Nymphæa_—Barren
country—Pomrang—_Podostemon_—Patchouli plant—Mooshye—Enormous stone
slabs—Pitcher-plant—Joowye—Cultivation and
vegetation—_Hydropeltis_—Sulky hostess—Nurtiung—_Hamamelis
chinensis_—Bor-panee river—Sacred grove and gigantic stone
structures—Altars—Pyramids, etc.—Origin of names—_Yandaca
cœrulea_—Collections—November vegetation—Geology of
Khasia—Sandstone—Coal—Lime—Gneiss—Greenstone—Tidal action—Strike of
rocks—Comparison with Rajmahal hills and the Himalaya.

CHAPTER XXX

Best voyage to Silhet—River—Palms—Teelas—Botany—Fish weirs—Forests of
Cachar—Sandal-wood, etc.—Porpoises—Alligators—Silchar—Tigers—Rice
crops—Cookies—Munniporees—Hockey—Varnish—Dance—Nagas—Excursion to
Munnipore frontier—Elephant bogged—Bamboos—_Cardiopteris_—Climate,
etc., of Cachar—Mosquitos—Fall of
banks—Silhet—Oaks—_Stylidium_—Tree-ferns—Chattuc—Megna—Meteorology—
Palms—Noa-colly—Salt- smuggling—Delta of Ganges and Megna—Westward
progress of Megna—Peat—Tide—Waves—Earthquakes—Dangerous
navigation—Moonlight scenes—Mud island—Chittagong—Mug
tribes—Views—Trees—Churs—Flagstaff hill—Coffee—Pepper—Tea,
etc.—Excursions from Chittagong—_Dipterocarpi_ or Gurjun oil
trees—Earthquake—Birds—Papaw—Bleeding of stems—Poppy and Sun
fields—Seetakoond—Bungalow and hill—Perpetual
flame—_Falconeria—Cycas_—Climate—Leave for Calcutta—Hattiah
island—Plants—Sunderbunds—Steamer—Tides—_Nipa
fruticans_—Fishing—Otters—Crocodiles—_Phœnix paludosa_—Departure from
India.

APPENDIX

INDEX




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

LITHOGRAPHIC VIEWS


 Plate I. The Dhak, _Butea frondosa,_ and _Cochlospermum gossypium,_ with the Kymore Hills in the background.
 Plate II. View of Kinchinjunga from Mr. Hodgson’s bungalow at Dorjiling, from a sketch by W. Tayler, Esq., B.C.S.
 Plate III. From Chingtam, looking up the Tambur Valley.
 Plate IV. Nango mountain, from the summit of the great moraine in Yangma Valley, looking eastward.
 Plate V. Junnoo mountain from the Choonjerma Pass.
 Plate VI. View of Kinchinjunga from Singtam, looking north-westward.
 Plate VII. Kinchinjunga from the Thlonok river, with rhododendrons in flower.
 Plate VIII. Tibet and Cholamoo lake from the summit of the Donkia pass, looking north-west.
 Plate IX. Kinchinjhow, Donkia, and Cholamoo lake, from the summit of Bhomtso, looking south; the summit of Chumulari is introduced in the extreme left of the view.
 Plate X. The table-land and station of Churra, with the Jheels, course of the Soormah river, and Tipperah hills in the extreme distance, looking south.
 Plate XI. The Bhotan Himalaya, Assam valley, and Burrampooter river, from Nunklow, looking north.
 Plate XII. Seetakoond hill.

WOOD ENGRAVINGS

 Fig. 1. Old tamarind trees.
 Fig. 2. Crossing the Soane River above Tura, with the Kymore Hills in the background.
 Fig. 3. Equatorial sun-dial, Benares Observatory.
 Fig. 4. Equinoctial sun-dial, Benares Observatory.
 Fig. 5. Azimuth circle, Benares Observatory.
 Fig. 6. Monghyr on the Ganges.
 Fig. 7. Punkabaree, Sikkim Terai, and Balasun River. The trees in the foreground are _Araliaceæ_.
 Fig. 8. Lepcha girl and Boodhist priest. From a sketch by Miss Colvile.
 Fig. 9. _Pinus longifolia,_ in the great Rungeet Valley.
 Fig. 10. Construction of a cane suspension-bridge.
 Fig. 11. Lepcha boy carrying a bamboo water-vessel. From a sketch by Miss Colvile.
 Fig. 12. Amulet usually worn by Lepchas.
 Fig. 13. Trunk-like root of _Wightia gigantea,_ ascending a tree, which its stout rootlets clasp.
 Fig. 14. Interior of Boodhist temple at Simonbong.
 Fig. 15. Trumpet made of a human thigh-bone.
 Fig. 16. Tibetan amulet set with turquoises.
 Fig. 17. Head of Tibet Mastiff. From a sketch taken in the zoological gardens by C. Jenyns, Esq.
 Fig. 18. View on the Tambur River, with _Ambies brunoniana_.
 Fig. 19. Wallanchoon village, East Nepal.
 Fig. 20. Head of a Tibetan demon. From a model in the possession of Captain H. Strachey.
 Fig. 21. Ancient moraines surrounding the lower lake-bed in the Yangma valley (looking west).
 Fig. 22. Second lake-bed in the Yangma valley, with Nango mountain, (looking east).
 Fig. 23. Diagram of the terraces and glacial boulders, etc., at the fork of the Yangma valley (looking north-west up the valley). The terraces are represented as much too level and angular, and the boulders too large, the woodcut being intended as a diagram rather than as a view.
 Fig. 24. View of the head of the Yangma valley, and ancient moraines of debris, which rise in confused hills several hundred feet above the floor of the valley below the Kanglachem pass (elevation 16,000 feet).
 Fig. 25. Skulls of _Ovis ammon._ Sketched by J. E. Winterbottom, Esq.
 Fig. 26. Ancient moraines, in which small lake-beds occur, in the Kambachen valley (elevation 11,400 feet).
 Fig. 27. Brass box to contain amulets, from Tibet.
 Fig. 28. Pemiongchi goompa (or temple) with Chaits in the foreground.
 Fig. 29. Costumes of Sikkim lamas and monks, with the bell, mani, dobje, and trident.
 Fig. 30. The Do-mani stone, with gigantic Tibetan characters.
 Fig. 31. Implements of worship in the Sikkim temples.
 Fig. 32. Chaits at Tassiding, with decayed funereal cypresses.
 Fig. 33. Vestibule of temple at Tassiding.
 Fig. 34. Southern temple, at Tassiding.
 Fig. 35. Middle temple, at Tassiding, with mounted yaks.
 Fig. 36. Chair, altar, and images in the great temple at Tassiding.
 Fig. 37. Ground-plan of southern temple at Tassiding.
 Fig. 38. Interior of temple at Pemiongchi, the walls covered with allegorical paintings.
 Fig. 39. Doobdi temple, with young and old funereal cypress.
 Fig. 40. Summit of Kinchinjunga, with Pundim on the right; its black cliff traversed by white granite veins.
 Fig. 41. Image of Maitrya, the coming Boodh.
 Fig. 42. Stone altar, and erection for burning juniper ashes.
 Fig. 43. Facsimile of the vermilion seal of the Dhurma Rajah of Bhotan, head of the Dookpa sect of Boodhists.
 Fig. 44. A Mech, native of the Sikkim Terai. Sketched by Miss Colvile.
 Fig. 45. Mech pocket-comb (of wood).
 Fig. 46. Pandanus in the Teesta valley.
 Fig. 47. Cane-bridge over the Lachen-Lachoong river, below Choongtam. Tukcham mountain is brought into the view, as seen from a higher elevation.
 Fig. 48. _Juniperus recurva,_ the weeping juniper.
 Fig. 49. Lamteng village, with Tukcham in the distance.
 Fig. 50. Black juniper and young larch.
 Fig. 51. Tungu village, with yaks in the foreground.
 Fig. 52. Women’s head-dresses—the two outer, Lepcha girls; the two inner, Tibetan women.
 Fig. 53. Tibet marmot. Sketched by J. E. Winterbottom, Esq.
 Fig. 54. Lachoong valley (looking south), larch tree in the foreground.
 Fig. 55. Conical ancient moraines in the Lachoong valley, with _Abies brunoniana_ and _smithiana_.
 Fig. 56. Head and legs of Tibet marmot. Sketched by J. E. Winterbottom, Esq.
 Fig. 57. Block of gneiss with granite bands, on the Kinchinjhow glacier.
 Fig. 58. Summit of forked Donkia mountain, with Goa antelopes in the foreground; from 17,500 feet elevation.
 Fig. 59. View of the eastern top of Kinchinjhow, and Tibet in the distance, with wild sheep in the foreground; from an elevation of 18,000 feet.
 Fig. 60. Head of Chiru antelope, the unicorn of Tibet. From a sketch by Lieut. H. Maxwell.
 Fig. 61. A Phud, or Tibetan mendicant. Sketched at Dorjiling by Miss Colvile.
 Fig. 62. Tea (brick of), tea-pot, wooden cup, etc.
 Fig. 63. Portrait of Aden Tchebu Lama. Sketched by Lieut. H. Maxwell.
 Fig. 64. Silver chain and hooks, ornamented with turquoises, used to fasten women’s cloaks.
 Fig. 65. Horns of the Showa stag of Tibet (_Cervus wallichii_). Sketched by Lieut. H. Maxwell.
 Fig. 66. Rajah’s house at Tumloong, in the foreground the cottage in which Dr. Campbell was confined, with the Dewan’s retinue passing. This is partly executed from memory.
 Fig. 67. Tibetan tobacco-pipe and tinder-pouch, with steel attached.
 Fig. 68. Lepcha sepoys, the right hand figures, and Tibetan ones on the left.
 Fig. 69. Dr. Falconer’s residence, Calcutta Botanic Gardens; from Sir L. Peel’s grounds, looking across the Hoogly.
 Fig. 70. View in the Jheels of Bengal, with Khasia mountains in the distance.
 Fig. 71. Living bridge, formed of the aerial roots of figs.
 Fig. 72. Dewan’s ear-ring of pearl and turquoises.
 Fig. 73. Waterfalls at Mamloo, with fan-palms.
 Fig. 74. Kollong rock.
 Fig. 75. Chela, on the Boga-panee river.
 Fig. 76. Nonkreem village, with boulders of denudation.
 Fig. 77. Bellows of iron smelters in the Khasia mountains.
 Fig. 78. Old bridge at Amwee.
 Fig. 79. Stones at Nurtiung.
 Fig. 80. _Dipterocarpus turbinatus,_ gurjun or wood-oil tree.

[Illustration: Dhurma Rajah’s Seal]

To CHARLES DARWIN, F.R.S., etc.

This volume is dedicated,
by his affectionate friend,

J. D. HOOKER

Kew, _Jan_. 12_th_, 1854




PREFACE


Having accompanied Sir James Ross on his voyage of discovery to the
Antarctic regions, where botany was my chief pursuit, on my return I
earnestly desired to add to my acquaintance with the natural history of
the temperate zones, more knowledge of that of the tropics than I had
hitherto had the opportunity of acquiring. My choice lay between India
and the Andes, and I decided upon the former, being principally
influenced by Dr. Falconer, who promised me every assistance which his
position as Superintendent of the H.E.I.C. Botanic Garden at Calcutta,
would enable him to give. He also drew my attention to the fact that we
were ignorant even of the geography of the central and eastern parts of
these mountains, while all to the north was involved in a mystery
equally attractive to the traveller and the naturalist.

On hearing of the kind interest taken by Baron Humboldt in my proposed
travels, and at the request of my father (Sir William Hooker), the Earl
of Carlisle (then Chief Commissioner of Woods and Forests) undertook to
represent to Her Majesty’s Government the expediency of securing my
collections for the Royal Gardens at Kew; and owing to the generous
exertions of that nobleman, and of the late Earl of Auckland (then
First Lord of the Admiralty), my journey assumed the character of a
Government mission, £400 per annum being granted by the Treasury for
two years.

I did not contemplate proceeding beyond the Himalaya and Tibet, when
Lord Auckland desired that I should afterwards visit Borneo, for the
purpose of reporting on the capabilities of Labuan, with reference to
the cultivation of cotton, tobacco, sugar, indigo, spices, guttapercha,
etc. To this end a commission in the navy (to which service I was
already attached) was given me, such instructions were drawn up as
might facilitate my movements in the East, and a suitable sum of money
was placed at my disposal.

Soon after leaving England, my plans became, from various causes,
altered. The Earl of Auckland[1] was dead; the interest in Borneo had
in a great measure subsided; H.M.S. “Mæander,” to which I had been
attached for service in Labuan, had left the Archipelago; reports of
the unhealthy nature of the coast had excited alarm; and the results of
my researches in the Himalaya had proved of more interest and advantage
than had been anticipated. It was hence thought expedient to cancel the
Borneo appointment, and to prolong my services for a third year in
India; for which purpose a grant of £300 (originally intended for
defraying the expense of collecting only, in Borneo) was transferred as
salary for the additional year to be spent in the Himalaya.

 [1] It is with a melancholy satisfaction that I here record the
 intentions of that enlightened nobleman. The idea of turning to public
 account what was intended as a scientific voyage, occurred to his
 lordship when considering my application for official leave to proceed
 to India; and from the hour of my accepting the Borneo commission with
 which he honoured me, he displayed the most active zeal in promoting
 its fulfilment. He communicated to me his views as to the direction in
 which I should pursue my researches, furnished me with official and
 other information, and provided me with introductions of the most
 essential use.


The portion of the Himalaya best worth exploring, was selected for me
both by Lord Auckland and Dr. Falconer, who independently recommended
Sikkim, as being ground untrodden by traveller or naturalist. Its ruler
was, moreover, all but a dependant of the British government, and it
was supposed, would therefore be glad to facilitate my researches.

No part of the snowy Himalaya eastward of the northwest extremity of
the British possessions had been visited since Turner’s embassy to
Tibet in 1789; and hence it was highly important to explore
scientifically a part of the chain which, from its central position,
might be presumed to be typical of the whole range. The possibility of
visiting Tibet, and of ascertaining particulars respecting the great
mountain Chumulari,[2] which was only known from Turner’s account, were
additional inducements to a student of physical geography; but it was
not then known that Kinchinjunga, the loftiest known mountain on the
globe, was situated on my route, and formed a principal feature in the
physical geography of Sikkim.

 [2] My earliest recollections in reading are of “Turner’s Travels in
 Tibet,” and of “Cook’s Voyages.” The account of Lama worship and of
 Chumulari in the one, and of Kerguelen’s Land in the other, always
 took a strong hold on my fancy. It is, therefore, singular that
 Kerguelen’s Land should have been the first strange country I ever
 visited (now fourteen years ago), and that in the first King’s ship
 which has touched there since Cook’s voyage, and whilst following the
 track of that illustrious navigator in south polar discovery. At a
 later period I have been nearly the first European who has approached
 Chumulari since Turner’s embassy.


My passage to Egypt was provided by the Admiralty in H.M. steam-vessel
“Sidon,” destined to convey the Marquis of Dalhousie, Governor-General
of India, thus far on his way. On his arrival in Egypt, his Lordship
did me the honour of desiring me to consider myself in the position of
one of his suite, for the remainder of the voyage, which was performed
in the “Moozuffer,” a steam frigate belonging to the Indian Navy. My
obligations to this nobleman had commenced before leaving England, by
his promising me every facility he could command; and he thus took the
earliest opportunity of affording it, by giving me such a position near
himself as ensured me the best reception everywhere; no other
introduction being needed. His Lordship procured my admission into
Sikkim, and honoured me throughout my travels with the kindest
encouragement.

During the passage out, some days were spent in Egypt, at Aden, Ceylon,
and Madras. I have not thought it necessary to give here the
observations made in those well-known countries; they are detailed in a
series of letters published in the “London Journal of Botany,” as
written for my private friends. Arriving at Calcutta in January, I
passed the remainder of the cold season in making myself acquainted
with the vegetation of the plains and hills of Western Bengal, south of
the Ganges, by a journey across the mountains of Birbhoom and Behar to
the Soane valley, and thence over the Vindhya range to the Ganges, at
Mirzapore, whence I descended that stream to Bhaugulpore; and leaving
my boat, struck north to the Sikkim Himalaya. This excursion is
detailed in the “London Journal of Botany,” and the Asiatic Society of
Bengal honoured me by printing the meteorological observations made
during its progress.

During the two years’ residence in Sikkim which succeeded, I was laid
under obligations of no ordinary nature to Brian H. Hodgson, Esq.,
B.C.S., for many years Resident at the Nepal Court; whose guest I
became for several months. Mr. Hodgson’s high position as a man of
science requires no mention here; but the difficulties he overcame, and
the sacrifices he made, in attaining that position, are known to few.
He entered the wilds of Nepal when very young, and in indifferent
health; and finding time to spare, cast about for the best method of
employing it: he had no one to recommend or direct a pursuit, no
example to follow, no rival to equal or surpass; he had never been
acquainted with a scientific man, and knew nothing of science except
the name. The natural history of men and animals, in its most
comprehensive sense, attracted his attention; he sent to Europe for
books, and commenced the study of ethnology and zoology. His labours
have now extended over upwards of twenty-five years’ residence in the
Himalaya. During this period he has seldom had a staff of less than
from ten to twenty persons (often many more), of various tongues and
races, employed as translators and collectors, artists, shooters, and
stuffers. By unceasing exertions and a princely liberality, Mr. Hodgson
has unveiled the mysteries of the Boodhist religion, chronicled the
affinities, languages, customs, and faiths of the Himalayan tribes; and
completed a natural history of the animals and birds of these regions.
His collections of specimens are immense, and are illustrated by
drawings and descriptions taken from life, with remarks on the
anatomy,[3] habits, and localities of the animals themselves. Twenty
volumes of the Journals, and the Museum of the Asiatic Society of
Bengal, teem with the proofs of his indefatigable zeal; and throughout
the cabinets of the bird and quadruped departments of our national
museum, Mr. Hodgson’s name stands pre-eminent. A seat in the Institute
of France, and the cross of the Legion of Honour, prove the estimation
in which his Boodhist studies are held on the continent of Europe. To
be welcomed to the Himalaya by such a person, and to be allowed the
most unreserved intercourse, and the advantage of all his information
and library, exercised a material influence on the progress I made in
my studies, and on my travels. When I add that many of the subjects
treated of in these volumes were discussed between us, it will be
evident that it is impossible for me to divest much of the information
thus insensibly obtained, of the appearance of being the fruits of my
own research.

 [3] In this department he availed himself of the services of Dr.
 Campbell, who was also attached to the Residency at Nepal, as surgeon
 and assistant political agent.


Dr. Campbell, the Superintendent of Dorjiling, is likewise the
Governor-General’s agent, or medium of communication between the
British Government and the Sikkim Rajah; and as such, invested with
many discretionary powers. In the course of this narrative, I shall
give a sketch of the rise, progress, and prospects of the Sanatarium,
or Health-station of Dorjiling, and of the anomalous position held by
the Sikkim Rajah. The latter circumstance led indirectly to the
detention of Dr. Campbell (who joined me in one of my journeys) and
myself, by a faction of the Sikkim court, for the purpose of obtaining
from the Indian Government a more favourable treaty than that then
existing. This mode of enforcing a request by _douce violence_ and
detention, is common with the turbulent tribes east of Nepal, but was
in this instance aggravated by violence towards my fellow-prisoner,
through the ill will of the persons who executed the orders of their
superiors, and who had been punished by Dr. Campbell for crimes
committed against both the British and Nepalese governments. The
circumstances of this outrage were misunderstood at the time; its
instigators were supposed to be Chinese; its perpetrators Tibetans; and
we the offenders were assumed to have thrust ourselves into the
country, without authority from our own government, and contrary to the
will of the Sikkim Rajah; who was imagined to be a tributary of China,
and protected by that nation, and to be under no obligation to the East
Indian government.

With regard to the obligations I owe to Dr. Campbell, I confine myself
to saying that his whole aim was to promote my comfort, and to secure
my success, in all possible ways. Every object I had in view was as
sedulously cared for by him as by myself: I am indebted to his
influence with Jung Bahadoor[4] for the permission to traverse his
dominions, and to visit the Tibetan passes of Nepal. His prudence and
patience in negotiating with the Sikkim court, enabled me to pursue my
investigations in that country. My journal is largely indebted to his
varied and extensive knowledge of the people and productions of these
regions.

 [4] It was in Nepal that Dr. Campbell gained the friendship of Jung
 Bahadoor, the most remarkable proof of which is the acceding to his
 request, and granting me leave to visit the eastern parts of his
 dominions; no European that I am aware of, having been allowed, either
 before or since, to travel anywhere except to and from the plains of
 India and valley of Katmandu, in which the capital city and British
 residency are situated.


In all numerical calculations connected with my observations, I
received most essential aid from John Muller, Esq., Accountant of the
Calcutta Mint, and from his brother, Charles Muller, Esq., of Patna,
both ardent amateurs in scientific pursuits, and who employed
themselves in making meteorological observations at Dorjiling, where
they were recruiting constitutions impaired by the performance of
arduous duties in the climate of the plains. I cannot sufficiently
thank these gentlemen for the handsome manner in which they volunteered
me their assistance in these laborious operations. Mr. J. Muller
resided at Dorjiling during eighteen months of my stay in Sikkim, over
the whole of which period his generous zeal in my service never
relaxed; he assisted me in the reduction of many hundreds of my
observations for latitude, time, and elevation, besides adjusting and
rating my instruments; and I can recall no more pleasant days than
those thus spent with these hospitable friends.

Thanks to Dr. Falconer’s indefatigable exertions, such of my
collections as reached Calcutta were forwarded to England in excellent
order; and they were temporarily deposited in Kew Gardens until their
destination should be determined. On my return home, my scientific
friends interested themselves in procuring from the Government such aid
as might enable me to devote the necessary time to the arrangement,
naming, and distributing of my collections, the publication of my
manuscripts, etc. I am in this most deeply indebted to the
disinterested and generous exertions of Mr. L. Horner, Sir Charles
Lyell, Dr. Lindley, Professor E. Forbes, and many others; and most
especially to the Presidents of the Royal Society (the Earl of Rosse),
of the Linnean (Mr. R. Brown), and Geological (Mr. Hopkins), who in
their official capacities memorialized in person the Chief Commissioner
of Woods and Forests on this subject; Sir William Hooker at the same
time bringing it under the notice of the First Lord of the Treasury.
The result was a grant of £400 annually for three years.

Dr. T. Thomson joined me in Dorjiling in the end of 1849, after the
completion of his arduous journeys in the North-West Himalaya and
Tibet, and we spent the year 1850 in travelling and collecting,
returning to England together in 1851. Having obtained permission from
the Indian Government to distribute his botanical collections, which
equal my own in extent and value, we were advised by all our botanical
friends to incorporate, and thus to distribute them. The whole
constitute an Herbarium of from 6000 to 7000 species of Indian plants,
including an immense number of duplicates; and it is now in process of
being arranged and named, by Dr. Thomson and myself, preparatory to its
distribution amongst sixty of the principal public and private herbaria
in Europe, India, and the United States of America.

For the information of future travellers, I may state that the total
expense of my Indian journey, including outfit, three years and a half
travelling, and the sending of my collections to Calcutta, was under
£2000 (of which £1200 were defrayed by government), but would have come
to much more, had I not enjoyed the great advantages I have detailed.
This sum does not include the purchase of books and instruments, with
which I supplied myself, and which cost about £200, nor the freight of
the collections to England, which was paid by Government. Owing to the
kind services of Mr. J. C. Melvill, Secretary of the India House, many
small parcels of seeds, etc., were conveyed to England, free of cost;
and I have to record my great obligations and sincere thanks to the
Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, for conveying,
without charge, all small parcels of books, instruments and specimens,
addressed to or by myself.

It remains to say something of the illustrations of this work. The maps
are from surveys of my own, made chiefly with my own instruments, but
partly with some valuable ones for the use of which I am indebted to my
friend Captain H. Thuillier, Deputy Surveyor-General of India, who
placed at my disposal the resources of the magnificent establishment
under his control, and to whose innumerable good offices I am very
greatly beholden.

The landscapes, etc. have been prepared chiefly from my own drawings,
and will, I hope, be found to be tolerably faithful representations of
the scenes. I have always endeavoured to overcome that tendency to
exaggerate heights, and increase the angle of slopes, which is I
believe the besetting sin, not of amateurs only, but of our most
accomplished artists. As, however, I did not use instruments in
projecting the outlines, I do not pretend to have wholly avoided this
snare; nor, I regret to say; has the lithographer, in all cases, been
content to abide by his copy. My drawings will be considered tame
compared with most mountain landscapes, though the subjects comprise
some of the grandest scenes in nature. Considering how conventional the
treatment of such subjects is, and how unanimous artists seem to be as
to the propriety of exaggerating those features which should
predominate in the landscape, it may fairly be doubted whether the
total effect of steepness and elevation, especially in a mountain view,
can, on a small scale, be conveyed by a strict adherence to truth. I
need hardly add, that if such is attainable, it is only by those who
have a power of colouring that few pretend to. In the list of plates
and woodcuts I have mentioned the obligations I am under to several
friends for the use of drawings, etc.

With regard to the spelling of native names, after much anxious
discussion I have adopted that which assimilates most to the English
pronunciation. For great assistance in this, for a careful revision of
the sheets as they passed through the press, and for numerous valuable
suggestions throughout, I am indebted to my fellow-traveller, Dr.
Thomas Thomson.

[Illustration: View of Kinchinjunga from Singtam, looking
north-westward]




Chapter I

Sunderbunds vegetation—Calcutta Botanic Garden—Leave for
Burdwan—Rajah’s gardens and menagerie—Coal-beds, geology, and plants
of—Lac insect and plant—Camels—Kunker—Cowage—Effloresced soda on
soil—Glass, manufacture of—Atmospheric vapours—Temperature, etc.—Mahowa
oil and spirits—Maddaobund—Jains—Ascent of Paras-nath—Vegetation of
that mountain.


I left England on the 11th of November, 1847, and performed the voyage
to India under circumstances which have been detailed in the
Introduction. On the 12th of January, 1848, the “Moozuffer” was
steaming amongst the low swampy islands of the Sunderbunds. These
exhibit no tropical luxuriance, and are, in this respect, exceedingly
disappointing. A low vegetation covers them, chiefly made up of a
dwarf-palm (_Phœnix paludosa_) and small mangroves, with a few
scattered trees on the higher bank that runs along the water’s edge,
consisting of fan-palm, toddy-palm, and _Terminalia._ Every now and
then, the paddles of the steamer tossed up the large fruits of _Nipa
fruticans,_ a low stemless palm that grows in the tidal waters of the
Indian ocean, and bears a large head of nuts. It is a plant of no
interest to the common observer, but of much to the geologist, from the
nuts of a similar plant abounding in the tertiary formations at the
mouth of the Thames, and having floated about there in as great
profusion as here, till buried deep in the silt and mud that now forms
the island of Sheppey.[5]

 [5] Bowerbank “On the Fossil Fruits and Seeds of the Isle of Sheppey,”
 and Lyell’s “Elements of Geology,” 3rd ed. p. 201.


Higher up, the river Hoogly is entered, and large trees, with villages
and cultivation, replace the sandy spits and marshy jungles of the
great Gangetic delta. A few miles below Calcutta, the scenery becomes
beautiful, beginning with the Botanic Garden, once the residence of
Roxburgh and Wallich, and now of Falconer,—classical ground to the
naturalist. Opposite are the gardens of Sir Lawrence Peel; unrivalled
in India for their beauty and cultivation, and fairly entitled to be
called the Chatsworth of Bengal. A little higher up, Calcutta opened
out, with the batteries of Fort William in the foreground, thundering
forth a salute, and in a few minutes more all other thoughts were
absorbed in watching the splendour of the arrangements made for the
reception of the Governor-General of India.

During my short stay in Calcutta, I was principally occupied in
preparing for an excursion with Mr. Williams of the Geological Survey,
who was about to move his camp from the Damooda valley coal-fields,
near Burdwan, to Beejaghur on the banks of the Soane, where coal was
reported to exist, in the immediate vicinity of water-carriage, the
great desideratum of the Burdwan fields.

My time was spent partly at Government-House, and partly at Sir
Lawrence Peel’s residence. The former I was kindly invited to consider
as my Indian home, an honour which I appreciate the more highly, as the
invitation was accompanied with the assurance that I should have entire
freedom to follow my own pursuits; and the advantages which such a
position afforded me, were, I need not say, of no ordinary kind.

At the Botanic Gardens I received every assistance from Dr.
McLelland,[6] who was very busy, superintending the publication of the
botanical papers and drawings of his friend, the late Dr. Griffith, for
which native artists were preparing copies on lithographic paper.

 [6] Dr. Falconer’s _locum tenens,_ then in temporary charge of the
 establishment.


Of the Gardens themselves it is exceedingly difficult to speak; the
changes had been so very great, and from a state with which I had no
acquaintance. There had been a great want of judgment in the
alterations made since Dr. Wallich’s time, when they were celebrated as
the most beautiful gardens in the east, and were the great object of
attraction to strangers and townspeople. I found instead an unsightly
wilderness, without shade (the first requirement of every tropical
garden) or other beauties than some isolated grand trees, which had
survived the indiscriminate destruction of the useful and ornamental
which had attended the well-meant but ill-judged attempt to render a
garden a botanical class-book. It is impossible to praise too highly
Dr. Griffith’s abilities and acquirements as a botanist, his
perseverance and success as a traveller, or his matchless industry in
the field and in the closet; and it is not wonderful, that, with so
many and varied talents, he should have wanted the eye of a
landscape-gardener, or the education of a horticulturist. I should,
however, be wanting in my duty to his predecessor, and to his no less
illustrious successor, were these remarks withheld, proceeding, as they
do, from an unbiassed observer, who had the honour of standing in an
equally friendly relation to all parties. Before leaving India, I saw
great improvements, but many years must elapse before the gardens can
resume their once proud pre-eminence.

I was surprised to find the Botanical Gardens looked upon by many of
the Indian public, and even by some of the better informed official
men, as rather an extravagant establishment, more ornamental than
useful. These persons seemed astonished to learn that its name was
renowned throughout Europe, and that during the first twenty years
especially of Dr. Wallich’s superintendence, it had contributed more
useful and ornamental tropical plants to the public and private gardens
of the world than any other establishment before or since.[7] I speak
from a personal knowledge of the contents of our English gardens, and
our colonial ones at the Cape, and in Australia, and from an inspection
of the ponderous volumes of distribution lists, to which Dr. Falconer
is daily adding. The botanical public of Europe and India is no less
indebted than the horticultural to the liberality of the Hon. East
India Company, and to the energy of the several eminent men who have
carried their views into execution.[8] The Indian government, itself,
has already profited largely by these gardens, directly and indirectly,
and might have done so still more, had its efforts been better seconded
either by the European or native population of the country. Amongst its
greatest triumphs may be considered the introduction of the tea-plant
from China, a fact I allude to, as many of my English readers may not
be aware that the establishment of the tea-trade in the Himalaya and
Assam is almost entirely the work of the superintendents of the gardens
of Calcutta and Seharunpore.

 [7] As an illustration of this, I may refer to a Report presented to
 the government of Bengal, from which it appears that between January,
 1836, and December, 1840, 189,932 plants were distributed gratis to
 nearly 2000 different gardens.


 [8] I here allude to the great Indian herbarium, chiefly formed by the
 staff of the Botanic Gardens under the direction of Dr. Wallich, and
 distributed in 1829 to the principal museums of Europe. This is the
 most valuable contribution of the kind ever made to science, and it is
 a lasting memorial: of the princely liberality of the enlightened men
 who ruled the counsels of India in those days. No botanical work of
 importance has been published since 1829, without recording its sense
 of the obligation, and I was once commissioned by a foreign
 government, to purchase for its national museum, at whatever cost, one
 set of these collections, which was brought to the hammer on the death
 of its possessor. I have heard it remarked that the expense attending
 the distribution was enormous, and I have reason to know that this
 erroneous impression has had an unfavourable influence upon the
 destination of scarcely less valuable collections, which have for
 years been lying untouched in the cellars of the India House. I may
 add that officers who have exposed their lives and impaired their
 health in forming similar ones at the orders and expense of the Indian
 government, are at home, and thrown upon their own resources, or the
 assistance of their scientific brethren, for the means of publishing
 and distributing the fruits of their labours.


From no one did I receive more kindness than from Sir James Colvile,
President of the Asiatic Society, who not only took care that I should
be provided with every comfort, but presented me with a completely
equipped palkee, which, for strength and excellence of construction,
was everything that a traveller could desire. Often _en route_ did I
mentally thank him when I saw other palkees breaking down, and
travellers bewailing the loss of those forgotten necessaries, with
which his kind attention had furnished me.

I left Calcutta to join Mr. Williams’ camp on the 28th of January,
driving to Hoogly on the river of that name, and thence following the
grand trunk-road westward towards Burdwan. The novelty of
palkee-travelling at first renders it pleasant; the neatness with which
every thing is packed, the good-humour of the bearers, their merry
pace, and the many more comforts enjoyed than could be expected in a
conveyance _horsed by men_, the warmth when the sliding doors are shut,
and the breeze when they are open, are all fully appreciated on first
starting, but soon the novelty wears off, and the discomforts are so
numerous, that it is pronounced, at best, a barbarous conveyance. The
greedy cry and gestures of the bearers, when, on changing, they break a
fitful sleep by poking a torch in your face, and vociferating
“Bucksheesh, Sahib;” their discontent at the most liberal largesse, and
the sluggishness of the next set who want bribes, put the traveller out
of patience with the natives. The dust when the slides are open, and
the stifling heat when shut during a shower, are conclusive against the
vehicle, and on getting out with aching bones and giddy head at the
journey’s end, I shook the dust from my person, and wished never to see
a palkee again.

On the following morning I was passing through the straggling villages
close to Burdwan, consisting of native hovels by the road side, with
mangos and figs planted near them, and palms waving over their roofs.
Crossing the nearly dry bed of the Damooda, I was set down at Mr.
M‘Intosh’s (the magistrate of the district), and never more thoroughly
enjoyed a hearty welcome and a breakfast.

In the evening we visited the Rajah of Burdwan’s palace and
pleasure-grounds, where I had the first glimpse of oriental gardening:
the roads were generally raised, running through rice fields, now dry
and hard, and bordered with trees of Jack, Bamboo, _Melia, Casuarina,_
etc. Tanks were the prominent features: chains of them, full of Indian
water-lilies, being fringed with rows of the fan-palm, and occasionally
the Indian date. Close to the house was a rather good menagerie, where
I saw, amongst other animals, a pair of kangaroos in high health and
condition, the female with young in her pouch. Before dark I was again
in my palkee, and hurrying onwards. The night was cool and clear, very
different from the damp and foggy atmosphere I had left at Calcutta. On
the following morning I was travelling over a flat and apparently
rising country, along an excellent road, with groves of bamboos and
stunted trees on either hand, few villages or palms, a sterile soil,
with stunted grass and but little cultivation; altogether a country as
unlike what I had expected to find in India as well might be. All
around was a dead flat or table-land, out of which a few conical hills
rose in the west, about 1000 feet high, covered with a low forest of
dusky green or yellow, from the prevalence of bamboo. The lark was
singing merrily at sunrise, and the accessories of a fresh air and dewy
grass more reminded me of some moorland in the north of England than of
the torrid regions of the east.

At 10 p.m. I arrived at Mr. Williams’ camp, at Taldangah, a dawk
station near the western limit of the coal basin of the Damooda valley.
His operations being finished, he was prepared to start, having kindly
waited a couple of days for my arrival.

Early on the morning of the last day of January, a motley group of
natives were busy striking the tents, and loading the bullocks,
bullock-carts and elephants: these proceeded on the march, occupying in
straggling groups nearly three miles of road, whilst we remained to
breakfast with Mr. F. Watkins, Superintendent of the East India Coal
and Coke Company, who were working the seams.

The coal crops out at the surface; but the shafts worked are sunk
through thick beds of alluvium. The age of these coal-fields is quite
unknown, and I regret to say that my examination of their fossil plants
throws no material light on the subject. Upwards of thirty species of
fossil plants have been procured from them, and of these the majority
are referred by Dr. McLelland[9] to the inferior oolite epoch of
England, from the prevalence of species of _Zamia, Glossopteris,_ and
_Taeniopteris._ Some of these genera, together with _Vertebraria_ (a
very remarkable Indian fossil), are also recognised in the coal-fields
of Sind and of Australia. I cannot, however, think that botanical
evidence of such a nature is sufficient to warrant a satisfactory
reference of these Indian coal-fields to the same epoch as those of
England or of Australia; in the first place the outlines of the fronds
of ferns and their nervation are frail characters if employed alone for
the determination of existing genera, and much more so of fossil
fragments: in the second place recent ferns are so widely distributed,
that an inspection of the majority affords little clue to the region or
locality they come from: and in the third place, considering the wide
difference in latitude and longitude of Yorkshire, India, and
Australia, the natural conclusion is that they could not have supported
a similar vegetation at the same epoch. In fact, finding similar fossil
plants at places widely different in latitude, and hence in climate,
is, in the present state of our knowledge, rather an argument against
than for their having existed cotemporaneously. The _Cycadeæ,_
especially, whose fossil remains afford so much ground for geological
speculations, are far from yielding such precise data as is supposed.
Species of the order are found in Mexico, South Africa, Australia, and
India, some inhabiting the hottest and dampest, and others the driest
climates on the surface of the globe; and it appears to me rash to
argue much from the presence of the order in the coal of Yorkshire and
India, when we reflect that the geologist of some future epoch may find
as good reasons for referring the present Cape, Australian, or Mexican
Flora to the same period as that of the Lias and Oolites, when the
_Cycadeæ_ now living in the former countries shall be fossilised.

 [9] Reports of the Geological Survey of India. Calcutta, 1850.


Specific identity of their contained fossils may be considered as fair
evidence of the cotemporaneous origin of beds, but amongst the many
collections of fossil plants that I have examined, there is hardly a
specimen, belonging to any epoch, sufficiently perfect to warrant the
assumption that the species to which it belonged can be again
recognised. The botanical evidences which geologists too often accept
as proofs of specific identity are such as no botanist would attach any
importance to in the investigation of existing plants. The faintest
traces assumed to be of vegetable origin are habitually made into
genera and species by naturalists ignorant of the structure, affinities
and distribution of living plants, and of such materials the bulk of
so-called systems of fossil plants is composed.

A number of women were here employed in making gunpowder, grinding the
usual materials on a stone, with the addition of water from the Hookah;
a custom for which they have an obstinate prejudice. The charcoal here
used is made from an _Acacia_: the Seiks, I believe, employ _Justicia
Adhatoda,_ which is also in use all over India: at Aden the Arabs
prefer the _Calotropis_, probably because it is most easily procured.
The grain of all these plants is open, whereas in England,
closer-grained and more woody trees, especially willows, are preferred.

The jungle I found to consist chiefly of thorny bushes, Jujube of two
species, an _Acacia_ and _Butea frondosa,_ the twigs of the latter
often covered with lurid red tears of Lac, which is here collected in
abundance. As it occurs on the plants and is collected by the natives
it is called Stick-lac, but after preparation Shell-lac. In Mirzapore,
a species of _Celtis_ yields it, and the Peepul very commonly in
various parts of India. The elaboration of this dye, whether by the
same species of insect, or by many from plants so widely different in
habit and characters, is a very curious fact; since none have red
juice, but some have milky and others limpid.

After breakfast, Mr. Williams and I started on an elephant, following
the camp to Gyra, twelve miles distant. The docility of these animals
is an old story, but it loses so much in the telling, that their
gentleness, obedience, and sagacity seemed as strange to me as if I had
never heard or read of these attributes. The swinging motion, under a
hot sun, is very oppressive, but compensated for by being so high above
the dust. The Mahout, or driver, guides by poking his great toes under
either ear, enforcing obedience with an iron goad, with which he
hammers the animal’s head with quite as much force as would break a
cocoa-nut, or drives it through his thick skin down to the quick. A
most disagreeable sight it is, to see the blood and yellow fat oozing
out in the broiling sun from these great punctures! Our elephant was an
excellent one, when he did not take obstinate fits, and so docile as to
pick up pieces of stone when desired, and with a jerk of the trunk
throw them over his head for the rider to catch, thus saving the
trouble of dismounting to geologise!

Of sights on the road, unfrequented though this noble line is, there
were plenty for a stranger; chiefly pilgrims to Juggernath, most on
foot, and a few in carts or pony gigs of rude construction. The
vehicles from the upper country are distinguished by a far superior
build, their horses are caparisoned with jingling bells, and the wheels
and other parts are bound with brass. The kindness of the people
towards animals, and in some cases towards their suffering relations,
is very remarkable, and may in part have given origin to the prevalent
idea that they are less cruel and stern than the majority of mankind;
but that the “mild” Hindoo, however gentle on occasion, is cruel and
vindictive to his brother man and to animals, when his indolent temper
is roused or his avarice stimulated, no one can doubt who reads the
accounts of Thuggee, Dacoitee, and poisoning, and witnesses the cruelty
with which beasts of burthen are treated. A child carrying a bird, kid,
or lamb, is not an uncommon sight, and a woman with a dog in her arms
is still more frequently seen. Occasionally too, a group will bear an
old man to see Juggernath before he dies, or a poor creature with
elephantiasis, who hopes to be allowed to hurry himself to his
paradise, in preference to lingering in helpless inactivity, and at
last crawling up to the second heaven only. The costumes are as various
as the religious castes, and the many countries to which the travellers
belong. Next in wealth to the merchants, the most thriving-looking
wanderer is the bearer of Ganges’ holy water, who drives a profitable
trade, his gains increasing as his load lightens, for the further he
wanders from the sacred stream, the more he gets for the contents of
his jar.

Of merchandise we passed very little, the Ganges being still the high
road between north-west India and Bengal. Occasionally a string of
camels was seen, but, owing to the damp climate, these are rare, and
unknown east of the meridian of Calcutta. A little cotton, clumsily
packed in ragged bags, dirty, and deteriorating every day, even at this
dry season, proves in how bad a state it must arrive at the market
during the rains, when the low wagons are dragged through the streams.

The roads here are all mended with a curious stone, called Kunker,
which is a nodular concretionary deposit of limestone, abundantly
imbedded in the alluvial soil of a great part of India.[10] It
resembles a coarse gravel, each pebble being often as large as a
walnut, and tuberculated on the surface: it binds admirably, and forms
excellent roads, but pulverises into a most disagreeable impalpable
dust.

 [10] Often occurring in strata, like flints.


A few miles beyond Taldangah we passed from the sandstone, in which the
coal lies, to a very barren country of gneiss and granite rocks, upon
which the former rests; the country still rising, more hills appear,
and towering far above all is Paras-nath, the culminant point, and a
mountain whose botany I was most anxious to explore.

The vegetation of this part of the country is very poor, no good-sized
trees are to be seen, all is a low stunted jungle. The grasses were
few, and dried up, except in the beds of the rivulets. On the low
jungly hills the same plants appear, with a few figs, bamboo in great
abundance, several handsome _Acanthaceæ_; a few _Asclepiadeæ_ climbing
up the bushes; and the Cowage plant, now with over-ripe pods, by
shaking which, in passing, there often falls such a shower of its
irritating microscopic hairs, as to make the skin tingle for an hour.

On the 1st of February, we moved on to Gyra, another insignificant
village. The air was cool, and the atmosphere clear. The temperature,
at three in the morning, was 65°, with no dew, the grass only 61°. As
the sun rose, Parasnath appeared against the clear grey sky, in the
form of a beautiful broad cone, with a rugged peak, of a deeper grey
than the sky. It is a remarkably handsome mountain, sufficiently lofty
to be imposing, rising out of an elevated country, the slope of which,
upward to the base of the mountain, though imperceptible, is really
considerable; and it is surrounded by lesser hills of just sufficient
elevation to set it off. The atmosphere, too, of these regions is
peculiarly favourable for views: it is very dry at this season; but
still the hills are clearly defined, without the harsh outlines so
characteristic of a moist air. The skies are bright, the sun powerful;
and there is an almost imperceptible haze that seems to soften the
landscape, and keep every object in true perspective.

Our route led towards the picturesque hills and valleys in front. The
rocks were all hornblende and micaceous schist, cut through by
trap-dykes, while great crumbling masses (or bosses) of quartz
protruded through the soil. The stratified rocks were often exposed,
pitched up at various inclinations: they were frequently white with
effloresced salts, which entering largely into the composition tended
to hasten their decomposition, and being obnoxious to vegetation,
rendered the sterile soil more hungry still. There was little
cultivation, and that little of the most wretched kind; even
rice-fields were few and scattered; there was no corn, or gram (_Ervum
Lens_), no Castor-oil, no Poppy, Cotton, Safflower, or other crops of
the richer soils that flank the Ganges and Hoogly; a very little
Sugar-cane, Dhal (_Cajana_), Mustard, Linseed, and Rape, the latter
three cultivated for their oil. Hardly a Palm was to be seen; and it
was seldom that the cottages could boast of a Banana, Tamarind, Orange,
Cocoa-nut or Date. The Mahowa (_Bassia latifolia_) and Mango were the
commonest trees. There being no Kunker in the soil here, the roads were
mended with angular quartz, much to the elephants’ annoyance.

We dismounted where some very micaceous stratified rock cropped out,
powdered with a saline efflorescence.[11] Jujubes (_Zizyphus_)
prevailed, with the _Carissa carandas_ (in fruit), a shrub belonging to
the usually poisonous family of Dog-banes (_Apocyneæ_); its berries
make good tarts, and the plant itself forms tolerable hedges.

 [11] An impure carbonate of soda. This earth is thrown into clay
 vessels with water, which after dissolving the soda, is allowed to
 evaporate, when the remainder is collected, and found to contain so
 much silica, as to be capable of being fused into glass. Dr. Boyle
 mentions this curious fact (Essay on the Arts and Manufactures of
 India, read before the Society of Arts, February 18, 1852), in
 illustration of the probably early epoch at which the natives of
 British India were acquainted with the art of making glass. More
 complicated processes are employed, and have been from a very early
 period, in other parts of the continent.


The country around Fitcoree is rather pretty, the hills covered with
bamboo and brushwood, and as usual, rising rather suddenly from the
elevated plains. The jungle affords shelter to a few bears and tigers,
jackals in abundance, and occasionally foxes; the birds seen are
chiefly pigeons. Insects are very scarce; those of the locust tribe
being most prevalent, indicative of a dry climate.

The temperature at 3 a.m. was 65°; at 3 p.m. 82° and at 10 p.m., 68°,
from which there was no great variation during the whole time we spent
at these elevations. The clouds were rare, and always light and high,
except a little fleecy spot of vapour condensed close to the summit of
Paras-nath. Though the nights were clear and starlight, no dew was
deposited, owing to the great dryness of the air. On one occasion, this
drought was so great during the passage of a hot wind, that at night I
observed the wet-bulb thermometer to stand 20·5 degrees below the
temperature of the air, which was 66° this indicated a dew-point of
11·5°, or 54·5° below the air, and a saturation-point of 0·146; there
being only 0·102 grains of vapour per cubic foot of air, which latter
was loaded with dust. The little moisture suspended in the atmosphere
is often seen to be condensed in a thin belt of vapour, at a
considerable distance above the dry surface of the earth, thus
intercepting the radiation of heat from the latter to the clear sky
above. Such strata may be observed, crossing the hills in ribbonlike
masses, though not so clearly on this elevated region as on the plains
bounding the lower course of the Soane, where the vapour is more dense,
the hills more scattered, and the whole atmosphere more humid. During
the ten days I spent amongst the hills I saw but one cloudy sunrise,
whereas below, whether at Calcutta, or on the banks of the Soane, the
sun always rose behind a dense fog-bank.

At 9.30 a.m. the black-bulb thermometer rose in the sun to 130°. The
morning observation before 10 or 11 a.m. always gives a higher result
than at noon, though the sun’s declination is so considerably less, and
in the hottest part of the day it is lower still (3.30 p.m. 109°), an
effect no doubt due to the vapours raised by the sun, and which equally
interfere with the photometer observations. The N.W. winds invariably
rise at about 9 a.m. and blow with increasing strength till sunset;
they are due to the rarefaction of the air over the heated ground, and
being loaded with dust, the temperature of the atmosphere is hence
raised by the heated particles. The increased temperature of the
afternoon is therefore not so much due to the accumulation of caloric
from the sun’s rays, as to the passage of a heated current of air
derived from the much hotter regions to the westward. It would be
interesting to know how far this N.W. diurnal tide extends; also the
rate at which it gathers moisture in its progress over the damp regions
of the Sunderbunds. Its excessive dryness in N.W. India approaches that
of the African and Australian deserts; and I shall give an abstract of
my own observations, both in the valleys of the Soane and Ganges, and
on the elevated plateaus of Behar and of Mirzapore.[12]

 [12] See Appendix A.


On the 2nd of February we proceeded to Tofe-Choney, the hills
increasing in height to nearly 1000 feet, and the country becoming more
picturesque. We passed some tanks covered with _Villarsia_, and
frequented by flocks of white egrets. The existence of artificial tanks
so near a lofty mountain, from whose sides innumerable water-courses
descend, indicates the great natural dryness of the country during one
season of the year. The hills and valleys were richer than I expected,
though far from luxuriant. A fine _Nauclea_ is a common shady tree, and
_Bignonia indica_, now leafless, but with immense pods hanging from the
branches. _Acanthaceæ_ is the prevalent natural order, consisting of
gay-flowered _Eranthemums, Ruellias, Barlerias,_ and such hothouse
favourites.[13]

 [13] Other plants gathered here, and very typical of the Flora of this
 dry region, were _Linum trigynum, Feronia elephantum, Ægle marmelos,
 Helicteres Asoca, Abrus precatorius, Flemingia_; various _Desmodia,
 Rhynchosiæ, Glycine,_ and _Grislea tomentosa_ very abundant,
 _Conocarpus latifoliusa, Loranthus longiflorus,_ and another species;
 _Phyllanthus Emblica,_ various _Convolvuli, Cuscuta,_ and several
 herbaceous _Compositæ._


This being the most convenient station whence to ascend Paras-nath, we
started at 6 a.m. for the village of Maddaobund, at the north base of
the mountain, or opposite side from that on which the grand trunk-road
runs. After following the latter for a few miles to the west, we took a
path through beautifully wooded plains, with scattered trees of the
Mahowa (_Bassia latifolia_), resembling good oaks: the natives distil a
kind of arrack from its fleshy flowers, which are also eaten raw. The
seeds, too, yield a concrete oil, by expression, which is used for
lamps and occasionally for frying.

Some villages at the west base of the mountain occupy a better soil,
and are surrounded with richer cultivation; palms, mangos, and the
tamarind, the first and last rare features in this part of Bengal,
appeared to be common, with fields of rice and broad acres of flax and
rape, through the latter of which the blue _Orobanche indica_ swarmed.
The short route to Maddaobund, through narrow rocky valleys, was
impracticable for the elephants, and we had to make a very considerable
detour, only reaching that village at 2 p.m. All the hill people we
observed were a fine-looking athletic race; they disclaimed the tiger
being a neighbour, which every palkee-bearer along the road declares to
carry off the torch-bearers, torch and all. Bears they said were
scarce, and all other wild animals, but a natural jealousy of Europeans
often leads the natives to deny the existence of what they know to be
an attraction to the proverbially sporting Englishman.


[Illustration: Old tamarind trees]

The site of Maddaobund, elevated 1,230 feet, in a clearance of the
forest, and the appearance of the snow-white domes and bannerets of its
temples through the fine trees by which it is surrounded, are very
beautiful. Though several hundred feet above any point we had hitherto
reached, the situation is so sheltered that the tamarind, peepul, and
banyan trees are superb. A fine specimen of the latter stands at the
entrance to the village, not a broadheaded tree, as is usual in the
prime of its existence, but a mass of trunks irregularly throwing out
immense branches in a most picturesque manner; the original trunk is
apparently gone, and the principal mass of root stems is fenced in.
This, with two magnificent tamarinds, forms a grand clump. The ascent
of the mountain is immediately from the village up a pathway worn by
the feet of many a pilgrim from the most remote parts of India.

Paras-nath is a mountain of peculiar sanctity, to which circumstance is
to be attributed the flourishing state of Maddaobund. The name is that
of the twenty-third incarnation of Jinna (Sanscrit “Conqueror”), who
was born at Benares, lived one hundred years, and was buried on this
mountain, which is the eastern metropolis of Jain worship, as Mount
Aboo is the western (where are their libraries and most splendid
temples). The origin of the Jain sect is obscure, though its rise
appears to correspond with the wreck of Boodhism throughout India in
the eleventh century. The Jains form in some sort a transition-sect
between Boodhists and Hindoos, differing from the former in
acknowledging castes, and from both in their worship of Paras-nath’s
foot, instead of that of Munja-gosha of the Boodhs, or Vishnoo’s of the
Hindoos. As a sect of Boodhists their religion is considered pure, and
free from the obscenities so conspicuous in Hindoo worship; whilst, in
fact, perhaps the reverse is the case; but the symbols are fewer, and
indeed almost confined to the feet of Paras-nath, and the priests
jealously conceal their esoteric doctrines.

The temples, though small, are well built, and carefully kept. No
persuasion could induce the Brahmins to allow us to proceed beyond the
vestibule without taking off our shoes, to which we were not inclined
to consent. The bazaar was for so small a village large, and crowded to
excess with natives of all castes, colours, and provinces of India,
very many from the extreme W. and N.W., Rajpootana, the Madras
Presidency, and Central India. Numbers had come in good cars, well
attended, and appeared men of wealth and consequence; while the
quantities of conveyances of all sorts standing about, rather reminded
me of an election, than of anything I had seen in India.

The natives of the place were a more Negro-looking race than the
Bengalees to whom I had previously been accustomed; and the curiosity
and astonishment they displayed at seeing (probably many of them for
the first time) a party of Englishmen, were sufficiently amusing. Our
coolies with provisions not having come up, and it being two o’clock in
the afternoon, I having had no breakfast, and being ignorant of the
exclusively Jain population of the village, sent my servant to the
bazaar, for some fowls and eggs; but he was mobbed for asking for these
articles, and parched rice, beaten flat, with some coarse sugar, was
all I could obtain; together with sweetmeats so odiously flavoured with
various herbs, and sullied with such impurities, that we quickly made
them over to the elephants.

Not being able to ascend the mountain and return in one day, Mr.
Williams and his party went back to the road, leaving Mr. Haddon and
myself, who took up our quarters under a tamarind-tree.

In the evening a very gaudy poojah was performed. The car, filled with
idols, was covered with gilding and silk, and drawn by noble bulls,
festooned and garlanded. A procession was formed in front; and it
opened into an avenue, up and down which gaily dressed dancing-boys
paced or danced, shaking castanets, the attendant worshippers singing
in discordant voices, beating tom-toms, cymbals, etc. Images (of Boodh
apparently) abounded on the car, in front of which a child was placed.
The throng of natives was very great and perfectly orderly, indeed,
sufficiently apathetic: they were remarkably civil in explaining what
they understood of their own worship. At 2 p.m., the thermometer was
only 65°, though the day was fine, a strong haze obstructing the sun’s
rays; at 6 p.m., 58°; at 9 p.m., 56°, and the grass cooled to 49°.
Still there was no dew, though the night was starlight.

Having provided doolies, or little bamboo chairs slung on four men’s
shoulders, in which I put my papers and boxes, we next morning
commenced the ascent; at first through woods of the common trees, with
large clumps of bamboo, over slaty rocks of gneiss, much inclined and
sloping away from the mountain. The view from a ridge 500 feet high was
superb, of the village, and its white domes half buried in the forest
below, the latter of which continued in sight for many miles to the
northward. Descending to a valley some ferns were met with, and a more
luxuriant vegetation, especially of _Urticeæ._ Wild bananas formed a
beautiful, and to me novel feature in the woods.

The conical hills of the white ants were very abundant. The structure
appears to me not an independent one, but the debris of clumps of
bamboos, or of the trunks of large trees, which these insects have
destroyed. As they work up a tree from the ground, they coat the bark
with particles of sand glued together, carrying up this artificial
sheath or covered way as they ascend. A clump of bamboos is thus
speedily killed; when the dead stems fall away, leaving the mass of
stumps coated with sand, which the action of the weather soon fashions
into a cone of earthy matter.

Ascending again, the path strikes up the hill, through a thick forest
of Sal (_Vateria robusta_) and other trees, spanned with cables of
scandent _Bauhinia_ stems. At about 3000 feet above the sea, the
vegetation becomes more luxuriant, and by a little stream I collected
five species of ferns and some mosses,—all in a dry state, however.
Still higher, _Clematis, Thalictrum,_ and an increased number of
grasses are seen; with bushes of _Verbenaceæ_ and _Compositæ._ The
white ant apparently does not enter this cooler region. At 3,500 feet
the vegetation again changes, the trees all become gnarled and
scattered; and as the dampness also increases, more mosses and ferns
appear. We emerged from the forest at the foot of the great ridge of
rocky peaks, stretching E. and W. three or four miles. Abundance of a
species of berberry and an _Osbeckia_ marked the change in the
vegetation most decidedly, and were frequent over the whole summit,
with coarse grasses, and various bushes.

At noon we reached the saddle of the crest (alt. 4,230 feet), where was
a small temple, one of five or six which occupy various prominences of
the ridge. The wind, N.W., was cold, the temp. 56°. The view was
beautiful, but the atmosphere too hazy: to the north were ranges of low
wooded hills, and the course of the Barakah and Adji rivers; to the
south lay a flatter country, with lower ranges, and the Damooda river,
its all but waterless bed snowy-white from the exposed granite blocks
with which its course is strewn. East and west the several sharp ridges
of the mountain itself are seen; the western considerably the highest.
Immediately below, the mountain flanks appear clothed with impenetrable
forest, here and there interrupted by rocky eminences; while to the
north the grand trunk road shoots across the plains, like a white
thread, as straight as an arrow, spanning here and there the beds of
the mountain torrents.

On the south side the vegetation was more luxuriant than on the north,
though, from the heat of the sun, the reverse might have been expected.
This is owing partly to the curve taken by the ridge being open to the
south, and partly to the winds from that quarter being the moist ones.
Accordingly, trees which I had left 3000 feet below in the north
ascent, here ascended to near the summit, such as figs and bananas. A
short-stemmed palm (_Phœnix_) was tolerably abundant, and a small tree
(_Pterospermum_) on which a species of grass grew epiphytically;
forming a curious feature in the landscape.

The situation of the principal temple is very fine, below the saddle in
a hollow facing the south, surrounded by jungles of plantain and
banyan. It is small, and contains little worthy of notice but the
sculptured feet of Paras-nath, and some marble Boodh idols;
cross-legged figures with crisp hair and the Brahminical cord. These, a
leper covered with ashes in the vestibule, and an officiating priest,
were all we saw. Pilgrims were seen on various parts of the mountain in
very considerable numbers, passing from one temple to another, and
generally leaving a few grains of dry rice at each; the rich and lame
were carried in chairs, the poorer walked.

The culminant rocks are very dry, but in the rains may possess many
curious plants; a fine _Kalanchoe_ was common, with the berberry, a
beautiful _Indigofera,_ and various other shrubs; a _Bolbophyllum_ grew
on the rocks, with a small _Begonia,_ and some ferns. There were no
birds, and very few insects, a beautiful small _Pontia_ being the only
butterfly. The striped squirrel was very busy amongst the rocks; and I
saw a few mice, and the traces of bears.

At 3 p.m., the temperature was 54°, and the air deliciously cool and
pleasant. I tried to reach the western peak (perhaps 300 feet above the
saddle), by keeping along the ridge, but was cut off by precipices, and
ere I could retrace my steps it was time to descend. This I was glad to
do in a doolie, and I was carried to the bottom, with only one short
rest, in an hour and three quarters. The descent was very steep the
whole way, partly down steps of sharp rock, where one of the men cut
his foot severely. The pathway at the bottom was lined for nearly a
quarter of a mile with sick, halt, maimed, lame, and blind beggars,
awaiting our descent. It was truly a fearful sight, especially the
lepers, and numerous unhappy victims to elephantiasis.

Though the botany of Paras-nath proved interesting, its elevation was
not accompanied by such a change from the flora of its base as I had
expected. This is no doubt due to its dry climate and sterile soil;
characters which it shares with the extensive elevated area of which it
forms a part, and upon which I could not detect above 300 species of
plants during my journey. Yet, that the atmosphere at the summit is
more damp as well as cooler than at the base, is proved as well by the
observations as by the vegetation;[14] and in some respects, as the
increased proportion of ferns, additional epiphytal orchideous plants,
_Begonias,_ and other species showed, its top supported a more tropical
flora than its base.

 [14] Of plants eminently typical of a moister atmosphere, I may
 mention the genera _Bolbophyllum, Begonia, Æginetia, Disporum,
 Roxburghia, Panax, Eugenia, Myrsine, Shorea, Millettia,_ ferns,
 mosses, and foliaceous lichens; which appeared in strange association
 with such dry-climate genera as _Kalanchoe, Pterospermum,_ and the
 dwarf-palm, _Phœnix._ Add to this list the _Berberis asiatica,
 Clematis nutans, Thalictrum glyphocarpum,_ 27 grasses, _Cardamine,_
 etc., and the mountain top presents a mixture of the plants of a damp
 hot, a dry hot, and of a temperate climate, in fairly balanced
 proportions. The prime elements of a tropical flora were however
 wholly wanting on Paras-nath, where are neither Peppers, _Pothos,
 Arum,_ tall or climbing palms, tree-ferns, _Guttiferæ,_ vines, or
 laurels.




Chapter II

Doomree—Vegetation of table-land—Lieutenant Beadle—Birds—Hot springs of
Soorujkoond—Plants near them—Shells in
them—Cholera-tree—Olibanum—Palms, form of—Dunwah Pass—Trees, native and
planted—Wild peacock—Poppy fields—Geography and geology of Behar and
Central India—Toddy-palm—Ground, temperature of—Barroon—Temperature of
plants—Lizard—Cross the Soane—Sand, ripple marks on—Kymore
hills—Ground, temperature of—Limestone—Rotas fort and palace—Nitrate of
lime—Change of climate—Lime stalagmites, enclosing leaves—Fall of
Soane—Spiders, etc.—Scenery and natural history of upper Soane
valley—_Hardwickia binata_—Bhel
fruit—Dust-storm—Alligator—Catechu—_Cochlospermum_
—Leaf-bellows—Scorpions—Tortoises—Florican—Limestone
spheres—Coles—Tiger-hunt—Robbery.


In the evening we returned to our tamarind tree, and the next morning
regained the trunk road, following it to the dawk bungalow of Doomree.
On the way I found the _Cæsalpinia paniculuta,_ a magnificent climber,
festooning the trues with its dark glossy foliage and gorgeous racemes
of orange blossoms. Receding from the mountain, the country again
became barren: at Doomree the hills were of crystalline rocks, chiefly
quartz and gneiss; no palms or large trees of any kind appeared. The
spear-grass abounded, and a detestable nuisance it was, its long awns
and husked seed working through trowsers and stockings.

_Balanites_ was not uncommon, forming a low thorny bush, with _Ægle
marmelos_ and _Feronia elephantum._ Having rested the tired elephant,
we pushed on in the evening to the next stage, Baghoda, arriving there
at 3 a.m., and after a few hours’ rest, I walked to the bungalow of
Lieutenant Beadle, the surveyor of roads, sixteen miles further.

The country around Baghoda is still very barren, but improves
considerably in going westward, the ground becoming hilly, and the road
winding through prettily wooded valleys, and rising gradually to 1,446
feet. _Nauclea cordifolia,_ a tree resembling a young sycamore, is very
common; with the Semul (_Bombax_), a very striking tree from its
buttressed trunk and gaudy scarlet flowers, swarming with birds, which
feed from its honeyed blossoms.

At 10 a.m. the sun became uncomfortably hot, the thermometer being 77°,
and the black-bulb thermometer 137°. I had lost my hat, and possessed
no substitute but a silken nightcap; so I had to tie a handkerchief
over my head, to the astonishment of the passers-by. Holding my head
down, I had little source of amusement but reading the foot-marks on
the road; and these were strangely diversified to an English eye. Those
of the elephant, camel, buffalo and bullock, horse, ass, pony, dog,
goat, sheep and kid, lizard, wild-cat and pigeon, with men, women, and
children’s feet, naked and shod, were all recognisable.

It was noon ere I arrived at Lieutenant Beadle’s, at Belcuppee (alt.
1,219 feet), glad enough of the hearty welcome I received, being very
hot, dusty, and hungry. The country about his bungalow is very pretty,
from the number of wooded hills and large trees, especially of banyan
and peepul, noble oak-like Mahowa (_Bassia_), _Nauclea,_ Mango, and
_Ficus infectoria._ These are all scattered, however, and do not form
forest, such as in a stunted form clothes the hills, consisting of
_Diospyros, Terminalia, Gmelina, Nauclea parvifolia, Buchanania,_ etc.
The rocks are still hornblende-schist and granite, with a covering of
alluvium, full of quartz pebbles. Insects and birds are numerous, the
latter consisting of jays, crows, doves, sparrows, and maina
(_Pastor_); also the _Phœnicophaus tristis_ (“Mahoka” of the natives),
with a note like that of the English cuckoo, as heard late in the
season. I remained two days with Lieutenant Beadle, enjoying in his
society several excursions to the hot springs, etc. These springs
(called Soorujkoond) are situated close to the road, near the mouth of
a valley, in a remarkably pretty spot. They are, of course, objects of
worship; and a ruined temple stands close behind them, with three very
conspicuous trees—a peepul, a banyan, and a white, thick-stemmed,
leafless _Sterculia,_ whose branches bore dense clusters of greenish
fœtid flowers. The hot springs are four in number, and rise in as many
ruined brick tanks about two yards across. Another tank, fed by a cold
spring, about twice that size, flows between two of the hot, only two
or three paces distant from one of the latter on either hand. All burst
through the gneiss rocks, meet in one stream after a few yards, and are
conducted by bricked canals to a pool of cold water, about eighty yards
off.

The temperatures of the hot springs were respectively 169°, 170°, 173°,
and 190°; of the cold, 84° at 4 p.m., and 75° at 7 a.m. the following
morning. The hottest is the middle of the five. The water of the cold
spring is sweet but not good, and emits gaseous bubbles; it was covered
with a green floating _Conferva._ Of the four hot springs, the most
copious is about three feet deep, bubbles constantly, boils eggs, and
though brilliantly clear, has an exceedingly nauseous taste. This and
the other warm ones cover the bricks and surrounding rocks with a thick
incrustation of salts.

_Confervæ_ abound in the warm stream from the springs, and two species,
one ochreous brown, and the other green, occur on the margins of the
tanks themselves, and in the hottest water; the brown is the best
Salamander, and forms a belt in deeper water than the green; both
appear in broad luxuriant strata, wherever the temp. is cooled down to
168°, and as low as 90°. Of flowering plants, three showed in an
eminent degree a constitution capable of resisting the heat, if not a
predilection for it; these were all _Cyperaceæ,_ a _Cyperus_ and an
_Eleocharis,_ having their roots in water of 100°, and where they are
probably exposed to greater heat, and a _Fimbristylis_ at 98°; all were
very luxuriant. From the edges of the four hot springs I gathered
sixteen species of flowering plants, and from the cold tank five, which
did not grow in the hot. A water-beetle, _Colymbetes_(?) and
_Notonecta,_ abounded in water at 112°, with quantities of dead shells;
frogs were very lively, with live shells, at 90°, and with various
other water beetles. Having no means of detecting the salts of this
water, I bottled some for future analysis.[15]

 [15] For an account of the _Confervæ,_ and of the mineral constituents
 of the waters, etc. see Appendix B.


On the following day I botanized in the neighbourhood, with but poor
success. An oblique-leaved fig climbs the other trees, and generally
strangles them: two epiphytal _Orchideæ_ also occur on the latter,
_Vanda Roxburghii_ and an _Oberonia._ Dodders (_Cuscuta_) of two
species, and _Cassytha,_ swarm over and conceal the bushes with their
yellow thread-like stems.

I left Belcuppee on the 8th of February, following Mr. Williams’ camp.
The morning was clear and cold, the temperature only 56°. We crossed
the nearly dry broad bed of the Burkutta river, a noble stream during
the rains, carrying along huge boulders of granite and gneiss. Near
this I passed the Cholera-tree, a famous peepul by the road side, so
called from a detachment of infantry having been attacked and decimated
at the spot by that fell disease; it is covered with inscriptions and
votive tokens in the shape of rags, etc. We continued to ascend to
1,360 feet, where I came upon a small forest of the Indian Olibanum
(_Boswellia thurifera_), conspicuous from its pale bark, and spreading
curved branches, leafy at their tips; its general appearance is a good
deal like that of the mountain ash. The gum, celebrated throughout the
East, was flowing abundantly from the trunk, very fragrant and
transparent. The ground was dry, sterile, and rocky; kunker, the
curious formation mentioned at p. 12, appears in the alluvium, which I
had not elsewhere seen at this elevation.

Descending to the village of Burshoot, we lost sight of the
_Boswellia,_ and came upon a magnificent tope of mango, banyan, and
peepul, so far superior to anything hitherto met with, that we were
glad to choose such a pleasant halting-place for breakfast. There are a
few lofty fan-palms here too, great rarities in this soil and
elevation: one, about eighty feet high, towered above some wretched
hovels, displaying the curious proportions of this tribe of palms:
first, a short cone, tapering to one-third the height of the stem, the
trunk then swelling to two-thirds, and again tapering to the crown.
Beyond this, the country again ascends to Burree (alt. 1,169 feet),
another dawk bungalow, a barren place, which we left on the following
morning.

So little was there to observe, that I again amused myself by watching
footsteps, the precision of which in the sandy soil was curious.
Looking down from the elephant, I was interested by seeing them all in
_relief,_ instead of _depressed,_ the slanting rays of the sun in front
producing this kind of mirage. Before us rose no more of those wooded
hills that had been our companions for the last 120 miles, the absence
of which was a sign of the nearly approaching termination of the great
hilly plateau we had been traversing for that distance.

Chorparun, at the top of the Dunwah pass, is situated on an extended
barren flat, 1,320 feet above the sea, and from it the descent from the
table-land to the level of the Soane valley, a little above that of the
Ganges at Patna, is very sudden. The road is carried zizgag down a
rugged hill of gneiss, with a descent of nearly 1000 feet in six miles,
of which 600 are exceedingly steep. The pass is well wooded, with
abundance of bamboo, _Bombax, Cassia, Acacia,_ and _Butea,_ with
_Calotropis,_ the purple Mudar, a very handsome road-side plant, which
I had not seen before, but which, with the _Argemone Mexicana,_ was to
be a companion for hundreds of miles farther. All the views in the pass
are very picturesque, though wanting in good foliage, such as _Ficus_
would afford, of which I did not see one tree. Indeed the rarity of the
genus (except _F. infectoria_) in the native woods of these hills, is
very remarkable. The banyan and peepul always appear to be planted, as
do the tamarind and mango.

Dunwah, at the foot of the pass, is 620 feet above the sea, and nearly
1000 below the mean level of the highland I had been traversing. Every
thing bears here a better aspect; the woods at the foot of the hills
afforded many plants; the bamboo (_B. stricta_) is green instead of
yellow and white; a little castor-oil is cultivated, and the Indian
date (low and stunted) appears about the cottages.

In the woods I heard and saw the wild peacock for the first time. Its
voice is not to be distinguished from that of the tame bird in England,
a curious instance of the perpetuation of character under widely
different circumstances, for the crow of the wild jungle-fowl does not
rival that of the farm-yard cock.

In the evening we left Dunwah for Barah (alt. 480 feet), passing over
very barren soil, covered with low jungle, the original woods having
apparently been cut for fuel. Our elephant, a timid animal, came on a
drove of camels in the dark by the road-side, and in his alarm insisted
on doing battle, tearing through the thorny jungle, regardless of the
mahout, and still more of me: the uproar raised by the camel-drivers
was ridiculous, and the danger to my barometer imminent.

We proceeded on the 11th of February to Sheergotty, where Mr. Williams
and his camp were awaiting our arrival. Wherever cultivation appeared
the crops were tolerably luxuriant, but a great deal of the country
yielded scarcely half-a-dozen kinds of plants to any ten square yards
of ground. The most prevalent were _Carissa carandas, Olax scandens,_
two _Zizyphi,_ and the ever-present _Acacia Catechu._ The climate is,
however, warmer and much moister, for I here observed dew to be formed,
which I afterwards found to be usual on the low grounds. That its
presence is due to the increased amount of vapour in the atmosphere I
shall prove: the amount of radiation, as shown by the cooling of the
earth and vegetation, being the same in the elevated plain and lower
levels.[16]

 [16] See Appendix C.


The good soil was very richly cultivated with poppy (which I had not
seen before), sugar-cane, wheat, barley, mustard, rape, and flax. At a
distance a field of poppies looks like a green lake, studded with white
water-lilies. The houses, too, are better, and have tiled roofs; while,
in such situations, the road is lined with trees.

A retrospect of the ground passed over is unsatisfactory, as far as
botany is concerned, except as showing how potent are the effects of a
dry soil and climate during one season of the year upon a vegetation
which has no desert types. During the rains probably many more species
would be obtained, for of annuals I scarcely found twenty. At that
season, however, the jungles of Behar and Birbhoom, though far from
tropically luxuriant, are singularly unhealthy.

In a geographical point of view the range of hills between Burdwan and
the Soave is interesting, as being the north-east continuation of a
chain which crosses the broadest part of the peninsula of India, from
the Gulf of Cambay to the junction of the Ganges and Hoogly at
Rajmahal. This range runs south of the Soane and Kymore, which it meets
I believe at Omerkuntuk;[17] the granite of this and the sandstone of
the other, being there both overlaid with trap. Further west again, the
ranges separate, the southern still betraying a nucleus of granite,
forming the Satpur range, which divides the valley of the Taptee from
that of the Nerbudda. The Paras-nath range is, though the most
difficult of definition, the longer of the two parallel ranges; the
Vindhya continued as the Kymore, terminating abruptly at the Fort of
Chunar on the Ganges. The general and geological features of the two,
especially along their eastern course, are very different. This
consists of metamorphic gneiss, in various highly inclined beds,
through which granite hills protrude, the loftiest of which is
Paras-nath. The north-east Vindhya (called Kymore), on the other hand,
consists of nearly horizontal beds of sandstone, overlying inclined
beds of non-fossiliferous limestone. Between the latter and the
Paras-nath gneiss, come (in order of superposition) shivered and
undulating strata of metamorphic quartz, hornstone, hornstone-porphyry,
jaspers, etc. These are thrown up, by greenstone I believe, along the
north and north-west boundary of the gneiss range, and are to be
recognised as forming the rocks of Colgong, of Sultangunj, and of
Monghyr, on the Ganges, as also various detached hills near Gyah, and
along the upper course of the Soane. From these are derived the
beautiful agates and cornelians, so famous under the name of Soane
pebbles, and they are equally common on the Curruckpore range, as on
the south bank of the Soane, so much so in the former position as to
have been used in the decoration of the walls of the now ruined palaces
near Bhagulpore.

 [17] A lofty mountain said to be 7000-8000 feet high.


In the route I had taken, I had crossed the eastern extremity alone of
the range, commencing with a very gradual ascent, over the alluvial
plains of the west bank of the Hoogly, then over laterite, succeeded by
sandstone of the Indian coal era, which is succeeded by the granite
table-land, properly so called. A little beyond the coal fields, the
table-land reaches an average height of 1,130 feet, which is continued
for upwards of 100 miles, to the Dunwah pass. Here the descent is
sudden to plains, which, continuous with those of the Ganges, run up
the Soane till beyond Rotasghur. Except for the occasional ridges of
metamorphic rocks mentioned above, and some hills of intruded
greenstone, the lower plain is stoneless, its subjacent rocks being
covered with a thicker stratum of the same alluvium which is thinly
spread over the higher table-land above. This range is of great
interest from its being the source of many important rivers,[18] and of
all those which water the country between the Soane, Hoogly, and
Ganges, as well as from its deflecting the course of the latter river,
which washes its base at Rajmahal, and forcing it to take a sinuous
course to the sea. In its climate and botany it differs equally from
the Gangetic plains to the north, and from the hot, damp, and exuberant
forests of Orissa to the south. Nor are its geological features less
different, or its concomitant and in part resultant characters of
agriculture and native population. Still further west, the great rivers
of the peninsula have their origin, the Nerbudda and Taptee flowing
west to the gulf of Cambay, the Cane to the Jumna, the Soane to the
Ganges, and the northern feeders of the Godavery to the Bay of Bengal.

 [18] The chief rivers from this, the great watershed of western
 Bengal, flow north-west and south-east; a few comparatively
 insignificant streams running north to the Ganges. Amongst the former
 are the Rheru, the Kunner, and the Coyle, which contribute to the
 Soane; amongst the latter, the Dammooda, Adji, and Barakah, flow into
 the Hoogly, and the Subunrika, Braminee, and Mahanuddee into the Bay
 of Bengal.


On the 12th of February, we left Sheergotty (alt. 463 feet), crossing
some small streams, which, like all else seen since leaving the Dunwah
Pass, flow N. to the Ganges. Between Sheergotty and the Soane, occur
many of the isolated hills of greenstone, mentioned above, better known
to the traveller from having been telegraphic stations. Some are much
impregnated with iron, and whether for their colour, the curious
outlines of many, or their position, form quaint, and in some cases
picturesque features in the otherwise tame landscape.

The road being highly cultivated, and the Date-palm becoming more
abundant, we encamped in a grove of these trees. All were curiously
distorted; the trunks growing zigzag, from the practice of yearly
tapping the alternate sides for toddy. The incision is just below the
crown, and slopes upwards and inwards: a vessel is hung below the
wound, and the juice conducted into it by a little piece of bamboo.
This operation spoils the fruit, which, though eaten, is small, and
much inferior to the African date.

At Mudunpore (alt. 440 feet) a thermometer, sunk 3 feet 4 inches in the
soil, maintained a constant temperature of 71·5°, that of the air
varying from 77·5°, at 3 p.m., to 62 at daylight the following morning;
when we moved on to Nourunga (alt. 340 feet), where I bored to 3 feet 8
inches with a heavy iron jumper through an alluvium of such excessive
tenacity, that eight natives were employed for four hours in the
operation. In both this and another hole, 4 feet 8 inches, the
temperature was 72° at 10 p.m.; and on the following morning 71·5° in
the deepest hole, and 70° in the shallower: that of the external air
varied from 71° at 3 p.m., to 57° at daylight on the following morning.
At the latter time I took the temperature of the earth near the
surface, which showed,

Surface 53° 1 inch 57° 2 inches 58° 4 inches 62° 7
inches 64°

The following day we marched to Baroon (alt. 345 feet) on the alluvial
banks of the Soane, crossing a deep stream by a pretty suspension
bridge, of which the piers were visible two miles off, so level is the
road. The Soane is here three miles wide, its nearly dry bed being a
desert of sand, resembling a vast arm of the sea when the tide is out:
the banks are very barren, with no trees near, and but very few in the
distance. The houses were scarcely visible on the opposite side, behind
which the Kymore mountains rise. The Soane is a classical river, being
now satisfactorily identified with the Eranoboas of the ancients.[19]

 [19] The etymology of Eranoboas is undoubtedly _Hierrinia Vahu_
 (Sanskrit), the golden-armed. Sons is also the Sanskrit for _gold._
 The stream is celebrated for its agates (Soane pebbles), which are
 common, but gold is not now obtained from it.


The alluvium is here cut into a cliff, ten or twelve feet above the bed
of the river, and against it the sand is blown in naked _dunes._ At 2
p.m., the surface-sand was heated to 110° where sheltered from the
wind, and 104° in the open bed of the river. To compare the rapidity
and depth to which the heat is communicated by pure sand, and by the
tough alluvium, I took the temperature at some inches depth in both.
That the alluvium absorbs the heat better, and retains it longer, would
appear from the following, the only observations I could make, owing to
the tenacity of the soil.

2 p.m. Surface 104° 2·5 inches 93° 5 inches 88° Sand at
this depth 78° 5 a.m. Surface 51° 28 inches 68·5°

Finding the fresh milky juice of _Calotropis_ to be only 72°, I was
curious to ascertain at what depth this temperature was to be obtained
in the sand of the river-bed, where the plant grew.

Surface 104·5° 1 inch 102° 2 inches 94° 2·5 inches 90° 3·5
inches 85° (Compact) 8 inches 73° (Wet) 15
inches 72° (Wet)

The power this plant exercises of maintaining a low temperature of 72°,
though the main portion which is subterraneous is surrounded by a soil
heated to between 90° and 104°, is very remarkable, and no doubt
proximately due to the rapidity of evaporation from the foliage, and
consequent activity in the circulation. Its exposed leaves maintained a
temperature of 80°, nearly 25° cooler than the similarly exposed sand
and alluvium. On the same night the leaves were cooled down to 54°,
when the sand had cooled to 51°. Before daylight the following morning
the sand had cooled to 43°, and the leaves of the _Calotropis_ to
45·5°. I omitted to observe the temperature of the sap at the latter
time; but the sand at the same depth (15 inches) as that at which its
temperature and that of the plant agreed at mid-day, was 68°. And
assuming this to be the heat of the plant, we find that the leaves are
heated by solar radiation during the day 8°, and cooled by nocturnal
radiation, 22·5°.

Mr. Theobald (my companion in this and many other rambles) pulled a
lizard from a hole in the bank. Its throat was mottled with scales of
brown and yellow. Three ticks had fastened on it, each of a size
covering three or four scales: the first was yellow, corresponding with
the yellow colour of the animal’s belly, where it lodged, the second
brown, from the lizard’s head; but the third, which was clinging to the
parti-coloured scales of the neck, had its body parti-coloured, the
hues corresponding with the individual scales which they covered. The
adaptation of the two first specimens in colour to the parts to which
they adhered, is sufficiently remarkable; but the third case was most
extraordinary.

During the night of the 14th of February, I observed a beautiful
display, apparently of the Aurora borealis, an account of which will be
found in the Appendix.

_February 15._—Our passage through the Soane sands was very tedious,
though accomplished in excellent style, the elephants pushing forward
the heavy waggons of mining tools with their foreheads. The wheels were
sometimes buried to the axles in sand, and the draught bullocks were
rather in the way than otherwise. The body of water over which we
ferried, was not above 80 yards wide. In the rains, when the whole
space of three miles is one rapid flood, 10 or 12 feet deep, charged
with yellow sand, this river must present an imposing spectacle. I
walked across the dry portion, observing the sand-waves, all ranged in
one direction, perpendicular to that of the prevailing wind, accurately
representing the undulations of the ocean, as seen from a mast-head or
high cliff. As the sand was finer or coarser, so did the surface
resemble a gentle ripple, or an ocean-swell. The progressive motion of
the waves was curious, and caused by the lighter particles being blown
over the ridges, and filling up the hollows to leeward. There were a
few islets in the sand, a kind of oases of mud and clay, in laminæ no
thicker than paper, and these were at once denizened by various weeds.
Some large spots were green with wheat and barley-crops, both suffering
from smut. We encamped close to the western shore, at the village of
Dearee (alt. 330 feet); it marks the termination of the Kymore Hills,
along whose S.E. bases our course now lay, as we here quitted the grand
trunk road for a rarely visited country. On the 16th we marched south
up the river to Tilotho (alt. 395 feet), through a rich and highly
cultivated country, covered with indigo, cotton, sugar-cane, safflower,
castor-oil, poppy, and various grains. Dodders (_Cuscuta_) covered even
tall trees with a golden web, and the _Capparis acuminata_ was in full
flower along the road side. Tilotho, a beautiful village, is situated
in a superb grove of Mango, Banyan, Peepul, Tamarind, and _Bassia._ The
Date or toddy-palm and fan-palm are very abundant and tall: each had a
pot hung under the crown. The natives climb these trunks with a hoop or
cord round the body and both ancles, and a bottle-gourd or other vessel
hanging round the neck to receive the juice from the stock-bottle, in
this aerial wine-cellar. These palms were so lofty that the climbers,
as they paused in their ascent to gaze with wonder at our large
retinue, resembled monkeys rather than men. Both trees yield a toddy,
but in this district they stated that that from the _Phœnix_ (Date)
alone ferments, and is distilled; while in other parts of India, the
_Borassus_ (fan-palm) is chiefly employed. I walked to the hills, over
a level cultivated country interspersed with occasional belts of low
wood; in which the pensile nests of the weaver-bird were abundant, but
generally hanging out of reach, in prickly _Acacias._

The hills here present a straight precipitous wall of horizontally
stratified sandstone, very like the rocks at the Cape of Good Hope,
with occasionally a shallow valley, and a slope of débris at the base,
densely clothed with dry jungle. The cliffs are about 1000 feet high,
and the plants similar to those at the foot of Paras-nath, but stunted:
I climbed to the top, the latter part by steps or ledges of sandstone.
The summit was clothed with long grass, trees of _Diospyros_ and
_Terminalia,_ and here and there the _Boswellia._ On the precipitous
rocks the curious white-barked _Sterculia fœtida_ “flung its arms
abroad,” leafless, and looking as if blasted by lightning.

A hole was sunk here again for the thermometers, and, as usual, with
great labour; the temperatures obtained were—

Air. 4 feet 6 inches,
under good shade
of trees 9 p.m. 64·5° 77° 11 p.m.  76° 5.30
a.m. 58·5° 76°

This is a very great rise (of 4°) above any of those previously
obtained, and certainly indicates a much higher mean temperature of the
locality. I can only suppose it due to the radiation of heat from the
long range of sandstone cliff, exposed to the south, which overlooks
the flat whereon we were encamped, and which, though four or five miles
off, forms a very important feature. The differences of temperature in
the shade taken on this and the other side of the river are 2·75°
higher on this side.

On the 17th we marched to Akbarpore (alt. 400 feet), a village overhung
by the rocky precipice of Rotasghur, a spur of the Kymore, standing
abruptly forward.

The range, in proceeding up the Soane valley, gradually approaches the
river, and beds of non-fossiliferous limestone are seen protruding
below the sandstone and occasionally rising into rounded hills, the
paths upon which appear as white as do those through the chalk
districts of England. The overlying beds of sandstone are nearly
horizontal, or with a dip to the N.W.; the subjacent ones of limestone
dip at a greater angle. Passing between the river and a detached
conical hill of limestone, capped with a flat mass of sandstone, the
spur of Rotas broke suddenly on the view, and very grand it was, quite
realising my anticipations of the position of these eyrie-like
hill-forts of India. To the left of the spur winds the valley of the
Soane, with low-wooded hills on its opposite bank, and a higher range,
connected with that of Behar, in the distance. To the right, the hills
sweep round, forming an immense and beautifully wooded amphitheatre,
about four miles deep, bounded with a continuation of the escarpment.
At the foot of the crowned spur is the village of Akbarpore, where we
encamped in a Mango tope;[20] it occupies some pretty undulating
limestone hills, amongst which several streams flow from the
amphitheatre to the Soane. During our two days’ stay here, I had the
advantage of the society of Mr. C. E. Davis, who was our guide during
some rambles in the neighbourhood, and to whose experience, founded on
the best habits of observation, I am indebted for much information. At
noon we started to ascend to the palace, on the top of the spur. On the
way we passed a beautiful well, sixty feet deep, and with a fine flight
of steps to the bottom. Now neglected and overgrown with flowering
weeds and creepers, it afforded me many of the plants I had only
previously obtained in a withered state; it was curious to observe
there some of the species of the hill-tops, whose seeds doubtless are
scattered abundantly over the surrounding plains, and only vegetate
where they find a coolness and moisture resembling that of the altitude
they elsewhere affect. A fine fig-tree growing out of the stone-work
spread its leafy green branches over the well mouth, which was about
twelve feet square; its roots assumed a singular form, enveloping two
sides of the walls with a beautiful net-work, which at _high-water
mark_ (rainy season), abruptly divides into thousands of little
brushes, dipping into the water which they fringe. It was a pretty cool
place to descend to, from a temperature of 80° above, to 74° at the
bottom, where the water was 60°; and most refreshing to look, either up
the shaft to the green fig shadowing the deep profound, or along the
sloping steps through a vista of flowering herbs and climbing plants,
to the blue heaven of a burning sky.

 [20] On the 24th of June, 1848, the Soane rose to an unprecedented
 height, and laid this grove of Mangos three feet under water.


The ascent to Rotas is over the dry hills of limestone, covered with a
scrubby brushwood, to a crest where are the first rude and ruined
defences. The limestone is succeeded by the sandstone cliff cut into
steps, which led from ledge to ledge and gap to gap, well guarded with
walls and an archway of solid masonry. Through this we passed on to the
flat summit of the Kymore hills, covered with grass and forest,
intersected by paths in all directions. The ascent is about 1,200
feet—a long pull in the blazing sun of February. The turf consists
chiefly of spear-grass and _Andropogon muricatus,_ the kus-kus, which
yields a favourite fragrant oil, used as a medicine in India. The trees
are of the kinds mentioned before. A pretty octagonal summer-house,
with its roof supported by pillars, occupies one of the highest points
of the plateau, and commands a superb view of the scenery before
described. From this a walk of three miles leads through the woods to
the palace. The buildings are very extensive, and though now ruinous,
bear evidence of great beauty in the architecture: light galleries,
supported by slender columns, long cool arcades, screened squares and
terraced walks, are the principal features. The rooms open out upon
flat roofs, commanding views of the long endless table-land to the
west, and a sheer precipice of 1000 feet on the other side, with the
Soane, the amphitheatre of hills, and the village of Akbarpore below.

This and Beejaghur, higher up the Soane, were amongst the most recently
reduced forts, and this was further the last of those wrested from
Baber in 1542. Some of the rooms are still habitable, but the greater
part are ruinous, and covered with climbers, both of wild flowers and
of the naturalised garden plants of the adjoining shrubbery; the
_Arbor-tristis,_ with _Hibiscus, Abutilon,_ etc., and above all, the
little yellow-flowered _Linaria ramosissima,_ crawling over every
ruined wall, as we see the walls of our old English castles clothed
with its congener _L. Cymbalaria._

In the old dark stables I observed the soil to be covered with a
copious evanescent efflorescence of nitrate of lime, like soap-suds
scattered about.

I made Rotas Palace 1,490 feet above the sea, so that this table-land
is here only fifty feet higher than that I had crossed on the grand
trunk road, before descending at the Dunwah pass. Its mean temperature
is of course considerably (4°) below that of the valley, but though so
cool, agues prevail after the rains. The extremes of temperature are
less marked than in the valley, which becomes excessively heated, and
where hot winds sometimes last for a week, blowing in furious gusts.

The climate of the whole neighbourhood has of late changed materially;
and the fall of rain has much diminished, consequent on felling the
forests; even within six years the hail-storms have been far less
frequent and violent. The air on the hills is highly electrical, owing,
no doubt, to the dryness of the atmosphere, and to this the frequent
recurrence of hail-storms may be due.

The zoology of these regions is tolerably copious, but little is known
of the natural history of a great part of the plateau; a native tribe,
prone to human sacrifices, is talked of. Tigers are common, and bears
are numerous; they have, besides, the leopard, panther, viverine cat,
and civet; and of the dog tribe the pariah, jackal, fox, and wild dog,
called Koa. Deer are very numerous, of six or seven kinds. A small
alligator inhabits the hill streams, said to be a very different animal
from either of the Soane species.

During our descent we examined several instances of ripple-mark (fossil
waves’ footsteps) in the sandstone; they resembled the fluting of the
_Sigillaria_ stems, in the coal-measures, and occurring as they did
here, in sandstone, a little above great beds of limestone, had been
taken for such, and as indications of coal.

On the following day we visited Rajghat, a steep ghat or pass leading
up the cliff to Rotas Palace, a little higher up the river. We took the
elephants to the mouth of the glen, where we dismounted, and whence we
followed a stream abounding in small fish and aquatic insects
(_Dytisci_ and _Gyrini_), through a close jungle, to the foot of the
cliffs, where there are indications of coal. The woods were full of
monkeys, and amongst other plants I observed _Murraya exotica,_ but it
was scarce. Though the jungle was so dense, the woods were very dry,
containing no Palm, _Adroideæ,_ Peppers, _Orchideæ_ or Ferns. Here, at
the foot of the red cliffs, which towered imposingly above, as seen
through the tree tops, are several small seams of coaly matter in the
sandstone, with abundance of pyrites, sulphur, and copious
efflorescences of salts of iron; but no coal. The springs from the
cliffs above are charged with lime, of which enormous tuff beds are
deposited on the sandstone, full of impressions of the leaves and stems
of the surrounding trees, which, however, I found it very difficult to
recognize, and could not help contrasting this circumstance with the
fact that geologists, unskilled in botany, see no difficulty in
referring equally imperfect remains of extinct vegetables to existing
genera. In some parts of their course the streams take up quantities of
the efflorescence, which they scatter over the sandstones in a singular
manner.

At Akbarpore I had sunk two thermometers, one 4 feet 6 inches, the
other 5 feet 6 inches; both invariably indicated 76°, the air varying
from 56° to 79·5°. Dew had formed every night since leaving Dunwah, the
grass being here cooled 12° below the air.

On the 19th of February we marched up the Soane to Tura, passing some
low hills of limestone, between the cliffs of the Kymore and the river.
On the shaded riverbanks grew abundance of English genera—_Cynoglossum,
Veronica, Potentilla, Ranunculus sceleratus, Rumex,_ several herbaceous
_Compositæ_ and _Labiatæ_; _Tamarix_ formed a small bush in rocky
hillocks in the bed of the river, and in pools were several aquatic
plants, _Zannichellia, Chara,_ a pretty little _Vallisneria,_ and
_Potamogeton._ The Brahminee goose was common here, and we usually saw
in the morning immense flocks of wild geese overhead, migrating
northward.

Here I tried again the effect of solar and nocturnal radiation on the
sand, at different depths, not being able to do so on the alluvium.

Noon,
Temperature
of air, 87°   Daylight of
following
morning Surface 110° 52° 1 inch 102° 55° 2
inches 93·5° 58° 4 inches 84° 67° 8 inches 77° sand
wet 73° wet 12 inches 76° sand wet 74°

From Tura our little army again crossed the Soane, the scarped cliffs
of the Kymore approaching close to the river on the west side. The bed
is very sandy, and about one mile and a half across.

The elephants were employed again, as at Baroon, to push the cart: one
of them had a bump in consequence, as large as a child’s head, just
above the trunk, and bleeding much; but the brave beast disregarded
this, when the word of command was given by his driver.

The stream was very narrow, but deep and rapid, obstructed with beds of
coarse agate, jasper, cornelian and chalcedony pebbles. A clumsy boat
took us across to the village of Soanepore, a wretched collection of
hovels. The crops were thin and poor, and I saw no palms or good trees.
Squirrels however abounded, and were busy laying up their stores;
descending from the trees they scoured across a road to a field of
tares, mounted the hedge, took an observation, foraged and returned up
the tree with their booty, quickly descended, and repeated the
operation of reconnoitering and plundering.

The bed of the river is here considerably above that at Dearee, where
the mean of the observations with those of Baroon, made it about 300
feet. The mean of those taken here and on the opposite side, at Tura,
gives about 400 feet, indicating a fall of 100 feet in only 40 miles.

Near this the sandy banks of the Soane were full of martins’ nests,
each one containing a pair of eggs. The deserted ones were literally
crammed full of long-legged spiders (_Opilio_), which could be raked
out with a stick, when they came pouring down the cliff like corn from
a sack; the quantities are quite inconceivable. I did not observe the
martin feed on them.

The entomology here resembled that of Europe, more than I had expected
in a tropical country, where predaceous beetles, at least _Carabideæ_
and _Staphylinideæ,_ are generally considered rare. The latter tribes
swarmed under the clods, of many species but all small, and so
singularly active that I could not give the time to collect many. In
the banks again, the round egg-like earthy chrysalis of the _Sphynx
Atropos_ (?) and the many-celled nidus of the leaf-cutter bee, were
very common.

A large columnar _Euphorbia_ (_E. ligulata_) is common all along the
Soane, and I observed it to be used everywhere for fencing. I had not
remarked the _E. neriifolia_; and the _E. tereticaulis_ had been very
rarely seen since leaving Calcutta. The _Cactus_ is nowhere found; it
is abundant in many parts of Bengal, but certainly not indigenous.


[Illustration: Crossing the Soane, with the Kymore Hills in the
distance]

  From this place onwards up the Soane, there was no road of any kind,
  and we were compelled to be our own road engineers. The sameness of
  the vegetation and lateness of the season made me regret this the
  less, for I was disappointed in my anticipations of finding
  luxuriance and novelty in these wilds. Before us the valley narrowed
  considerably, the forest became denser, the country on the south side
  was broken with rounded hills, and on the north the noble cliffs of
  the Kymore dipped down to the river. The villages were smaller, more
  scattered and poverty-stricken, with the Mahowa and Mango as the
  usual trees; the banyan, peepul, and tamarind being rare. The native,
  are of an aboriginal jungle race; and are tall, athletic, erect, much
  less indolent and more spirited than the listless natives of the
  plains.

_February 21._—Started at daylight: but so slow and difficult was our
progress through fields and woods, and across deep gorges from the
hills, that we only advanced five miles in the day; the elephant’s head
too was aching too badly to let him push, and the cattle would not
proceed when the draught was not equal. What was worse, it was
impossible to get them to pull together up the inclined planes we cut,
except by placing a man at the head of each of the six, eight, or ten
in a team, and simultaneously screwing round their tails; when one
tortured animal sometimes capsizes the vehicle. The small carts got on
better, though it was most nervous to see them rushing down the steeps,
especially those with our fragile instruments, etc.

Kosdera, where we halted, is a pretty place, elevated 440 feet, with a
broad stream front the hills flowing past it. These hills are of
limestone, and rounded, resting upon others of hornstone and jasper.
Following up the stream I came to some rapids, where the stream is
crossed by large beds of hornstone and porphyry rocks, excessively
hard, and pitched up at right angles, or with a bold dip to the north.
The number of strata was very great, and only a few inches or even
lines thick: they presented all varieties of jasper, hornstone, and
quartz of numerous colours, with occasional seams of porphyry or
breccia. The racks were elegantly fringed with a fern I had not
hitherto seen, _Polypodium proliferum,_ which is the only species the
Soane valley presents at this season.

Returning over the hills, I found _Hardwickia binata,_ a most elegant
leguminous tree, tall, erect, with an elongated coma, and the branches
pendulous. These trees grew in a shallow bed of alluvium, enclosing
abundance of agate pebbles and kunker, the former derived from the
quartzy strata above noticed.

On the 23rd and 24th we continued to follow up the Soane, first to
Panchadurma (alt. 490 feet), and thence to Pepura (alt. 587 feet), the
country becoming densely wooded, very wild, and picturesque, the woods
being full of monkeys, parrots, peacocks, hornbills, and wild animals.
_Strychnos potatorum,_ whose berries are used to purify water, forms a
dense foliaged tree, 30 to 60 feet high, some individuals pale yellow,
others deep green, both in apparent health. _Feronia Elephantum_ and
_Ægle marmelos_[21] were very abundant, with _Sterculia,_ and the dwarf
date-palm.

 [21] The Bhel fruit, lately introduced into English medical practice,
 as an astringent of great effect, in cases of diarrhœa and dysentery.


One of my carts was here hopelessly broken down; advancing on the
spokes instead of the tire of the wheels. By the banks of a deep gully
here the rocks are well exposed: they consist of soft clay shales
resting on the limestone, which is nearly horizontal; and this again,
unconformably on the quartz and hornstone rocks, which are confused,
and tilted up at all angles.

A spur of the Kymore, like that of Rotas, here projects to the bed of
the river, and was blazing at night with the beacon-like fires of the
natives, lighted to scare the tigers and bears from the spots where
they cut wood and bamboo; they afforded a splendid spectacle, the
flames in some places leaping zig-zag from hill to hill in front of us,
and looking as if a gigantic letter W were written in fire.

The night was bright and clear, with much lightning, the latter
attracted to the spur, and darting down as it were to mingle its fire
with that of the forest; so many flashes appeared to strike on the
flames, that it is probable the heated air in their neighbourhood
attracted them. We were awakened between 3 and 4 a.m., by a violent
dust-storm, which threatened to carry away the tents. Our position at
the mouth of the gulley formed by the opposite hills, no doubt
accounted for it. The gusts were so furious that it was impossible to
observe the barometer, which I returned to its case on ascertaining
that any indications of a rise or fall in the column must have been
quite trifling. The night had been oppressively hot, with many insects
flying about; amongst which I noticed earwigs, a genus erroneously
supposed rarely to take to the wing in Britain.

At 8.30 a.m. it suddenly fell calm, and we proceeded to Chanchee (alt.
500 feet), the native carts breaking down in their passage over the
projecting beds of flinty rocks, or as they burned down the inclined
planes we cut through the precipitous clay banks of the streams. Near
Chanchee we passed an alligator, just killed by two men, a foul beast,
about nine feet long, of the mugger kind. More absorbing than its
natural history was the circumstance of its having swallowed a child,
that was playing in the water as its mother was washing her utensils in
the river. The brute was hardly dead, much distended by the prey, and
the mother was standing beside it. A very touching group was this: the
parent with her hands clasped in agony, unable to withdraw her eyes
from the cursed reptile, which still clung to life with that tenacity
for which its tribe are so conspicuous; beside these the two athletes
leaned on the bloody bamboo staffs, with which they had all but
despatched the animal.

This poor woman earned a scanty maintenance by making catechu:
inhabiting a little cottage, and having no property but two cattle to
bring wood from the hills, and a very few household chattels; and how
few of these they only know who have seen the meagre furniture of Danga
hovels. Her husband cut the trees in the forest and dragged them to the
hut, but at this time he was sick, and her only boy, her future stay,
it was, whom the beast had devoured.

This province is famous for the quantity of catechu its dry forests
yield. The plant (_Acacia_) is a little thorny tree, erect, and bearing
a rounded head of well remembered prickly branches. Its wood is yellow,
with a dark brick-red heart, most profitable in January and useless in
June (for yielding the extract).

The _Butea frondosa_ was abundantly in flower here, and a gorgeous
sight. In mass the inflorescence resembles sheets of flame, and
individually the flowers are eminently beautiful, the bright orange-red
petals contrasting brilliantly against the jet-black velvety calyx. The
nest of the _Megachile_ (leaf-cutter bee) was in thousands in the
cliffs, with Mayflies, Caddis-worms, spiders, and many predaceous
beetles. Lamellicorn beetles were very rare, even _Aphodius,_ and of
_Cetoniæ_ I did not see one.


[Illustration: Soane Valley and Kymore Hills. <i>Cochlospermum
gossypium</i> and <i>Butea frondosa</i> in flower.]

We marched on the 28th to Kota, at the junction of the river of that
name with the Soane, over hills of flinty rock, which projected
everywhere, to the utter ruin of the elephants’ feet, and then over
undulating hills of limestone; on the latter I found trees of
_Cochlospermum,_ whose curious thick branches spread out somewhat
awkwardly, each tipped with a cluster of golden yellow flowers, as
large as the palm of the hand, and very beautiful: it is a tropical
Gum-Cistus in the appearance and texture of the petals, and their frail
nature. The bark abounds in a transparent gum, of which the white ants
seem fond, for they had killed many trees. Of the leaves the curious
rude leaf-bellows are made, with which the natives of these hills smelt
iron. Scorpions appeared very common here, of a small kind, 1.5 inch
long; several were captured, and one of our party was stung on the
finger; the smart was burning for an hour or two, and then ceased.

At Kota we were nearly opposite the cliffs at Beejaghur, where coal is
reported to exist; and here we again crossed the Soane, and for the
last time. The ford is three miles up the river, and we marched to it
through deep sand. The bed of the river is here 500 feet above the sea,
and about three-quarters of a mile broad, the rapid stream being 50 or
60 yards wide, and breast deep. The sand is firm and siliceous, with no
mica; nodules of coal are said to be washed down thus far from the
coal-beds of Burdee, a good deal higher up, but we saw none.

The cliffs come close to the river on the opposite side, their bases
clothed with woods which teemed with birds. The soil is richer, and
individual trees, especially of _Bombax, Terminalia_ and _Mahowa,_ very
fine; one tree of the _Hardwickia,_ about 120 feet high, was as
handsome a monarch of the forest as I ever saw, and it is not often
that one sees trees in the tropics, which for a combination of beauty
in outline, harmony of colour, and arrangement of branches and foliage,
would form so striking an addition to an English park.

There is a large break in the Kymore hills here, beyond the village of
Kunch, through which our route lay to Beejaghur, and the Ganges at
Mirzapore; the cliff’s leaving the river and trending to the north in a
continuous escarpment flanked with low ranges of rounded hills, and
terminating in an abrupt spur (Mungeesa Peak) whose summit was covered
with a ragged forest. At Kunch we saw four alligators sleeping in the
river, looking at a distance like logs of wood, all of the short-nosed
or mugger kind, dreaded by man and beast; I saw none of the
sharp-shouted (or garial), so common on the Ganges, where their long
bills, with a garniture of teeth and prominent eyes peeping out of the
water, remind one of geological lectures and visions of _Ichthyosauri._
Tortoises were frequent in the river, basking on the rocks, and popping
into the water when approached.

On the 1st of March we left the Soane, and struck inland over a rough
hilly country, covered with forest, fully 1000 feet below the top of
the Kymore table-land, which here recedes from the river and surrounds
an undulating plain, some ten miles either way, facing the south. The
roads, or rather pathways, were very bad, and quite impassable for the
carts without much engineering, cutting through forest, smoothing down
the banks of the watercourses to be crossed, and clearing away the
rocks as we best might. We traversed the empty bed of a mountain
torrent, with perpendicular banks of alluvium 30 feet high, and thence
plunged into a dense forest. Our course was directed towards Mungeesa
Peak, the remarkable projecting spur, between which and a conical hill
the path led. Whether on the elephants or on foot, the thorny jujubes,
_Acacias,_ etc. were most troublesome, and all our previous scratchings
were nothing to this. Peacocks and jungle-fowl were very frequent, the
squabbling of the former and the hooting of the monkeys constantly
grating on the ear. There were innumerable pigeons and a few Floricans
(a kind of bustard—considered the best eating game-bird in India). From
the defile we emerged on an open flat, halting at Sulkun, a scattered
village (alt. 684 feet), peopled by a bold-looking race (Coles)[22] who
habitually carry the spear and shield. We had here the pleasure of
meeting Mr. Felle, an English gentleman employed in the Revenue
department; this being one of the roads along which the natives
transport their salt, sugar, etc., from one province to another.

 [22] The Coles, like the Danghas of the Rajmahal and Behar hills, and
 the natives of the mountains of the peninsula, form one of the
 aboriginal tribes of British India, and are widely different people
 from either the Hindoos or Mussulmen.


In the afternoon, I examined the conical hill, which, like that near
Rotas, is of stratified beds of limestone, capped with sandstone. A
stream runs round its base, cutting through the alluvium to the
subjacent rock, which is exposed, and contains flattened spheres of
limestone. These spheres are from the size of a fist to a child’s head,
or even much larger; they are excessively hard, and neither laminated
nor formed of concentric layers. At the top of the hill the sandstone
cap was perpendicular on all sides, and its dry top covered with small
trees, especially of _Cochlospermum._ A few larger trees of _Fici_
clung to the edge of the rocks, and by forcing their roots into the
interstices detached enormous masses, affording good dens for bears and
other wild animals. From the top, the view of rock, river, forest, and
plain, was very fine, the eye ranging over a broad flat, girt by
precipitous hills;—West, the Kymore or Vindhya range rose again in
rugged elevations; South, flowed the Soane, backed by ranges of wooded
hills, smoking like volcanos with the fires of the natives;—below, lay
the bed of the stream we had left at the foot of the hills, cutting its
way through the alluvium, and following a deep gorge to the Soane,
which was there hidden by the rugged heights we had crossed, on which
the greater part of our camp might be seen still straggling
onwards;—east, and close above us, the bold spur of Mungeesa shot up,
terminating a continuous stretch of red precipices, clothed with forest
along their bases, and over their horizontal tops.

From Sulkun the view of the famed fort and palace of Beejaghur is very
singular, planted on the summit of an isolated hill of sandstone, about
ten miles off. A large tree by the palace marks its site; for, at this
distance, the buildings are themselves undistinguishable.

There are many tigers on these hills; and as one was close by, and had
killed several cattle, Mr. Felle kindly offered us a chance of slaying
him. Bullocks are tethered out, over-night, in the places likely to be
visited by the brute; he kills one of them, and is from the spot
tracked to his haunt by natives, who visit the stations early in the
morning, and report the whereabouts of his lair. The sportsman then
goes to the attack mounted on an elephant, or having a _roost_ fixed in
a tree, on the trail of the tiger, and he employs some hundred natives
to drive the animal past the lurking-place.

On the present occasion, the locale of the tiger was doubtful; but it
was thought that by beating over several miles of country he (or at any
rate, some other game) might be driven past a certain spot. Thither,
accordingly, the natives were sent, who built machans (stages) in the
trees, high out of danger’s reach; Mr. Theobald and myself occupied one
of these perches in a _Hardwickia_ tree, and Mr. Felle another, close
by, both on the slope of a steep hill, surrounded by jungly valleys. We
were also well thatched in with leafy boughs, to prevent the wary beast
from espying the ambush, and had a whole stand of shall arms ready for
his reception.

When roosted aloft, and duly charged to keep profound silence (which I
obeyed to the letter, by falling sound asleep), the word was passed to
the beaters, who surrounded our post on the plain-side, extending some
miles in line, and full two or three distant from us. They entered the
jungle, beating tom-toms, singing and shouting as they advanced, and
converging towards our position. In the noonday solitude of these vast
forests, our situation was romantic enough: there was not a breath of
wind, an insect or bird stirring; and the wild cries of the men, and
the hollow sound of the drums broke upon the ear from a great distance,
gradually swelling and falling, as the natives ascended the heights or
crossed the valleys. After about an hour and a half, the beaters
emerged from the jungle under our retreat; one by one, two by two, but
preceded by no single living thing, either mouse, bird, deer, or bear,
and much less tiger. The beaters received about a penny a-piece for the
day’s work; a rich guerdon for these poor wretches, whom necessity
sometimes drives to feed on rats and offal.

We were detained three days at Sulkun, from inability to get on with
the carts; and as the pass over the Kymore to the north (on the way to
Mirzapore) was to be still worse, I took advantage of Mr. Felle’s kind
offer of camels and elephants to make the best of my way forward,
accompanying that gentleman, _en route,_ to his residence at Shahgunj,
on the table-land.

Both the climate and natural history of this flat on which Sulkun
stands, are similar to those of the banks of the Soane; the crops are
wretched. At this season the dryness of the atmosphere is excessive:
our nails cracked, and skins peeled, whilst all articles of wood,
tortoiseshell, etc., broke on the slightest blow. The air, too, was
always highly electrical, and the dew-point was frequently 40° below
the temperature of the air.

The natives are far from honest: they robbed one of the tents placed
between two others, wherein a light was burning. One gentleman in it
was awake, and on turning saw five men at his bedside, who escaped with
a bag of booty, in the shape of clothes, and a tempting strong
brass-bound box, containing private letters. The clothes they dropped
outside, but the box of letters was carried off. There were about a
hundred people asleep outside the tents, between whose many fires the
rogues must have passed, eluding also the guard, who were, or ought to
have been, awake.




Chapter III

Ek-powa Ghat—Sandstones—Shahgunj—Table-land, elevation,
etc.—Gum-arabic—Mango—Fair—Aquatic plants—Rujubbund—Storm—False sunset
and sunrise—Bind hills—Mirzapore—Manufactures, imports, etc.—Climate
of—Thuggee—Chunar—Benares—Mosque—Observatory—Sar-nath—Ghazeepore—Rose-
gardens—Manufactory of Attar—Lord Cornwallis’ tomb—Ganges, scenery and
natural history of—Pelicans—Vegetation—Insects—Dinapore—Patna—Opium
godowns and manufacture—Mudar, white and purple—Monghyr islets—Hot
Springs of Setakoond—Alluvium of Ganges—Rocks of
Sultun-gunj—Bhaugulpore—Temples of Mt. Manden—Coles and native
tribes—Bhaugulpore rangers—Horticultural gardens.


On the 3rd of March I bade farewell to Mr. Williams and his kind party,
and rode over a plain to the village of Markunda, at the foot of the
Ghat. There the country becomes very rocky and wooded, and a stream is
crossed, which runs over a flat bed of limestone, cracked into the
appearance of a tesselated pavement. For many miles there is no pass
over the Kymore range, except this, significantly called “Ek-powa-Ghat”
(one-foot Ghat). It is evidently a _fault,_ or shifting of the rocks,
producing so broken a cliff as to admit of a path winding over the
shattered crags. On either side, the precipices are extremely steep, of
horizontally stratified rocks, continued in an unbroken line, and the
views across the plain and Soane valley, over which the sun was now
setting, were superb. At the summit we entered on a dead flat plain or
table-land, with no hills, except along the brim of the broad valley we
had left, where are some curious broad pyramids, formed of slabs of
sandstone arranged in steps. By dark we reached the village of Roump
(alt. 1,090 feet), beyond the top of the pass.

On the next day I proceeded on a small, fast, and wofully high-trotting
elephant, to Shahgunj, where I enjoyed Mr. Felle’s hospitality for a
few days. The country here, though elevated, is, from the nature of the
soil and formation, much more fertile than what I had left. Water is
abundant, both in tanks and wells, and rice-fields, broad and
productive, cover the ground; while groves of tamarinds and mangos, now
loaded with blossoms, occur at every village.

It is very singular that the elevation of this table-land (1,100 feet
at Shahgunj) should coincide with that of the granite range of Upper
Bengal, where crossed by the grand trunk road, though they have no
feature but the presence of alluvium in common. Scarce a hillock varies
the surface here, and the agricultural produce of the two is widely
different. Here the flat ledges of sandstone retain the moisture, and
give rise to none of those impetuous torrents which sweep it off the
inclined beds of gneiss, or splintered quartz. Nor is there here any of
the effloresced salts so forbidding to vegetation where they occur.
Wherever the alluvium is deep on these hills, neither _Catechu,
Olibanum, Butea, Terminalia, Diospyros,_ dwarf-palm, or any of those
plants are to be met with, which abound wherever the rock is
superficial, and irrespectively of its mineral characters.

The gum-arabic _Acacia_ is abundant here, though not seen below, and
very rare to the eastward of this meridian, for I saw but little of it
in Behar. It is a plant partial to a dry climate, and rather prefers a
good soil. In its distribution it in some degree follows the range of
the camel, which is its constant companion over thousands of leagues.
In the valley of the Ganges I was told that neither the animal nor
plant flourish east of the Soane, where I experienced a marked change
in the humidity of the atmosphere on my passage down the Ganges. It was
a circumstance I was interested in, having first met with the camel at
Teneriffe and the Cape Verd Islands, the westernmost limit of its
distribution; imported thither, however, as it now is into Australia,
where, though there is no _Acacia Arabica,_ four hundred other species
of the genus are known.

The mango, which is certainly _the_ fruit of India, (as the pine-apple
is of the Eastern Islands, and the orange of the West,) was now
blossoming, and a superb sight. The young leaves are purplish-green,
and form a curious contrast to the deep lurid hue of the older foliage;
especially when the tree is (which often occurs) dimidiate, one half
the green, and the other the red shades of colours; when in full
blossom, all forms a mass of yellow, diffusing a fragrance rather too
strong and peculiar to be pleasant.

We passed a village where a large fair was being held, and singularly
familiar its arrangements were to my early associations. The women and
children are the prime customers; for the latter whirl-you-go-rounds,
toys, and sweetmeats were destined; to tempt the former, little booths
of gay ornaments, patches for the forehead, ear-rings of quaint shapes,
bugles and beads. Here as at home, I remarked that the vendors of these
superfluities occupy the approaches to this Vanity-Fair. As, throughout
the East, the trades are congregated into particular quarters of the
cities, so here the itinerants grouped themselves into little bazaars
for each class of commodity. Whilst I was engaged in purchasing a few
articles of native workmanship, my elephant made an attack on a
sweetmeat stall, demolishing a magnificent erection of barley-sugar,
before his proceedings could be put a stop to.

Mr. Felle’s bungalow (whose garden smiled with roses in this
wilderness) was surrounded by a moat (fed by a spring), which was full
of aquatic plants, _Nymphæa, Damasonium, Villarsia cristata,
Aponogeton,_ three species of _Potamogeton,_ two of _Naias, Chara_ and
_Zannichellia_ (the two latter indifferently, and often together, used
in the refinement of sugar). In a large tank hard by, wholly fed by
rain water, I observed only the _Villarsia Indica,_ no _Aponogeton,
Nymphæa,_ or _Dammonium,_ nor did these occur in any of the other tanks
I examined, which were otherwise well peopled with plants. This may not
be owing to the quality of the water so much as to its varying quantity
in the tank.

All around here, as at Roump, is a dead flat, except towards the crest
of the ghats which overhang the valley of the Soane, and there the
sandstone rock rises by steps into low hills. During a ride to a
natural tank amongst these rocky elevations, I passed from the alluvium
to the sandstone, and at once met with all the prevailing plants of the
granite, gneiss, limestone and hornstone rocks previously examined, and
which I have enumerated too often to require recapitulation; a
convincing proof that the mechanical properties and not the chemical
constitution of the rocks regulate the distribution of these plants.

Rujubbund (the pleasant spot), is a small tarn, or more properly the
expanded bed of a stream, art having aided nature in its formation: it
is edged by rocks and cliffs fringed with the usual trees of the
neighbourhood; it is a wild and pretty spot, not unlike some
birch-bordered pool in the mountains of Wales or Scotland, sequestered
and picturesque. It was dark before I got back, with heavy clouds and
vivid lightning approaching from the south-west. The day had been very
hot (3 p.m., 90°), and the evening the same; but the barometer did not
foretell the coming tempest, which broke with fury at 7 p.m., blowing
open the doors, and accompanied with vivid lightning and heavy thunder,
close by and all round, though no rain fell.

In the clear dry mornings of these regions, a curious optical phenomena
may be observed, of a _sunrise_ in the _west,_ and _sunset_ in the
_east._ In either case, bright and well-defined beams rise to the
zenith, often crossing to the opposite horizon. It is a beautiful
feature in the firmament, and equally visible whether the horizon be
cloudy or clear, the white beams being projected indifferently against
a dark vapour or the blue serene. The zodiacal light shines from an
hour or two after sunset till midnight, with singular brightness,
almost equalling the milky way.

_March 7._—Left Shahgunj for Mirzapore, following the road to Goorawal,
over a dead alluvial flat without a feature to remark. Turning north
from that village, the country undulates, exposing the rocky nucleus,
and presenting the usual concomitant vegetation. Occasionally park-like
views occurred, which, where diversified by the rocky valleys, resemble
much the noble scenery of the Forest of Dean on the borders of Wales;
the _Mahowa_ especially representing the oak, with its spreading and
often gnarled branches. Many of the exposed slabs of sandstone are
beautifully waved on the surface with the _ripple-mark_ impression.

Amowee, where I arrived at 9 p.m., is on an open grassy flat, about
fifteen miles from the Ganges, which is seen from the neighbourhood,
flowing among trees, with the white houses, domes, and temples of
Mirzapore scattered around, and high above which the dust-clouds were
coursing along the horizon.

Mr. Money, the magistrate of Mirzapore, kindly sent a mounted messenger
to meet me here, who had vast trouble in getting bearers for my palkee.
In it I proceeded the next day to Mirzapore, descending a steep ghat of
the Bind hills by an excellent road, to the level plains of the Ganges.
Unlike the Dunwah pass, this is wholly barren. At the foot the sun was
intensely hot, the roads alternately rocky and dusty, the villages
thronged with a widely different looking race from those of the hills,
and the whole air of the outskirts, on a sultry afternoon, far from
agreeable.

Mirzapore is a straggling town, said to contain 100,000 inhabitants. It
flanks the river, and is built on an undulating alluvial bank, full of
kunker, elevated 360 feet above the sea, and from 50 to 80 above the
present level of the river. The vicinity of the Ganges and its green
bank, and the numbers of fine trees around, render it a pleasing,
though not a fine town. It presents the usual Asiatic contrast of
squalor and gaudiness; consisting of large squares and broad streets,
interspersed with acres of low huts and groves of trees. It is
celebrated for its manufactory of carpets, which are admirable in
appearance, and, save in durability, equal to the English. Indigo seed
from Bundelkund is also a most extensive article of commerce, the best
coming from the Doab. For cotton, lac, sugar, and saltpetre, it is one
of the greatest marts in India. The articles of native manufacture are
brass washing and cooking utensils, and stone deities worked out of the
sandstone.

There is little native vegetation, the country being covered with
cultivation and extensive groves of mango, and occasionally of guava.
English vegetables are abundant and excellent, and the strawberries,
which ripen in March, rival the European fruit in size, but hardly in
flavour.

During the few days spent at Mirzapore with my kind friend, Mr. C.
Hamilton, I was surprised to find the temperature of the day cooler by
nearly 4° than that of the hills above, or of the upper part of the
Soane valley; while on the other hand the nights were decidedly warmer.
The dewpoint again was even lower in proportion, (7·5°) and the climate
consequently drier. The atmosphere was extremely dry and electrical,
the hair constantly crackling when combed. Further west, where the
climate becomes still drier, the electricity of the air is even
greater. Mr. Griffith mentions in his journal that in filling barometer
tubes in Affghanistan, he constantly experienced a shock.

Here I had the pleasure of meeting Lieutenant Ward, one of the
suppressors of Thuggee (_Thuggee,_ in Hindostan, signifies a deceiver;
fraud, not open force, being employed). This gentleman kindly showed me
the approvers or king’s evidence of his establishment, belonging to
those three classes of human scourges, the Thug, Dakoit, and Poisoner.
Of these the first was the Thug, a mild-looking man, who had been born
and bred to the profession: he had committed many murders, saw no harm
in them, and felt neither shame nor remorse. His organs of observation
and destructiveness were large, and the cerebellum small. He explained
to me how the gang waylay the unwary traveller, enter into conversation
with him, and have him suddenly seized, when the superior throws his
own linen girdle round the victim’s neck and strangles him, pressing
the knuckles against the spine. Taking off his own, he passed it round
my arm, and showed me the turn as coolly as a sailor once taught me the
_hangman’s knot._ The Thug is of any caste, and from any part of India.
The profession have particular stations, which they generally select
for murder, throwing the body of their victim into a well.

The Dakoit (_dakhee,_ a robber) belongs to a class who rob in gangs,
but never commit murder—arson and housebreaking also forming part of
their profession. These are all high-class Rajpoots, originally from
Guzerat; who, on being conquered, vowed vengeance on mankind. They
speak both Hindostanee and the otherwise extinct Guzerat language; this
is guttural in the extreme, and very singular in sound. They are a very
remarkable people, found throughout India, and called by various names;
their women dress peculiarly, and are utterly devoid of modesty. The
man I examined was a short, square, but far from powerful Nepalese,
with high arched eyebrows, and no organs of observation. These people
are great cowards.

The Poisoners all belong to one caste, of Pasie, or dealers in toddy:
they go singly or in gangs, haunting the travellers’ resting-places,
where they drop half a rupee weight of pounded or whole _Datura_ seeds
into his food, producing a twenty-hours’ intoxication, during which he
is robbed, and left to recover or sink under the stupifying effects of
the narcotic. He told me that the _Datura_ seed is gathered without
ceremony, and at any time, place, or age of the plant. He was a dirty,
ill-conditioned looking fellow, with no bumps behind his ears, or
prominence of eyebrow region, but a remarkable cerebellum.

Though now all but extinct (except in Cuttack), through ten or fifteen
years of unceasing vigilance on the part of Government, and incredible
activity and acuteness in the officers employed, the Thugs were
formerly a wonderfully numerous body, who abstained from their vocation
solely in the immediate neighbourhood of their own villages; which,
however, were not exempt from the visits of other Thugs; so that, as
Major Sleeman says,—“The annually returning tide of murder swept
unsparingly over the whole face of India, from the Sutlej to the
sea-coast, and from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin. One narrow district
alone was free, the Concan, beyond the ghats, whither they never
penetrated.” In Bengal, river Thugs replace the travelling
practitioner. Candeish and Rohilkund alone harboured no Thugs as
residents, but they were nevertheless haunted by the gangs.

Their origin is uncertain, but supposed to be very ancient, soon after
the Mahommedan conquest. They now claim a divine original, and are
supposed to have supernatural powers, and to be the emissaries of the
divinity, like the wolf, the tiger, and the bear. It is only lately
that they have swarmed so prodigiously,—seven original gangs having
migrated from Delhi to the Gangetic provinces about 200 years ago, and
from these all the rest have sprung. Many belong to the most amiable,
intelligent, and respectable classes of the lower and even middle
ranks: they love their profession, regard murder as sport, and are
never haunted with dreams, or troubled with pangs of conscience during
hours of solitude, or in the last moments of life. The victim is an
acceptable sacrifice to the goddess Davee, who by some classes is
supposed to eat the lifeless body, and thus save her votaries the
necessity of concealing it.

They are extremely superstitious, always consulting omens, such as the
direction in which a hare or jackall crosses the road; and even far
more trivial circumstances will determine the fate of a dozen of
people, and perhaps of an immense treasure. All worship the pickaxe,
which is symbolical of their profession, and an oath sworn on it binds
closer than on the Koran. The consecration of this weapon is a most
elaborate ceremony, and takes place only under certain trees. They rise
through various grades: the lowest are scouts; the second, sextons; the
third are holders of the victims’ hands; the highest, stranglers.

Though all agree in never practising cruelty, or robbing previous to
murder,—never allowing any but infants to escape (and these are trained
to Thuggee), and never leaving a trace of such goods as may be
identified,—there are several variations in their mode of conducting
operations; some tribes spare certain castes, others none: murder of
woman is against all rules; but the practice crept into certain gangs,
and this it is which led to their discountenance by the goddess Davee,
and the consequent downfall of the system. Davee, they say, allowed the
British to punish them, because a certain gang had murdered the mothers
to obtain their daughters to be sold to prostitution.

Major Sleeman has constructed a map demonstrating the number of
“Bails,” or regular stations for committing murder, in the kingdom of
Oude alone, which is 170 miles long by 100 broad, and in which are 274,
which are regarded by the Thug with as much satisfaction and interest
as a game preserve is in England: nor are these “bails” less numerous
in other parts of India. Of twenty assassins who were examined, one
frankly confessed to having been engaged in 931 murders, and the least
guilty of the number to 24. Sometimes 150 persons collected into one
gang, and their profits have often been immense, the murder of six
persons on one occasion yielding 82,000 rupees; upwards of 8000 pounds.

Of the various facilities for keeping up the system, the most prominent
are, the practice amongst the natives of travelling before dawn, of
travellers mixing freely together, and taking their meals by the
way-side instead of in villages; in the very Bails, in fact, to which
they are inveigled by the Thug in the shape of a fellow-traveller;
money remittances are also usually made by disguised travellers, whose
treasure is exposed at the custom-houses, and, worst of all, the
bankers will never own to the losses they sustain, which, as a
visitation of God, would, if avenged, lead, they think, to future, and
perhaps heavier punishment. Had the Thugs destroyed Englishmen, they
would quickly have been put down; but the system being invariably
practised on a class of people acknowledging the finger of the Deity in
its execution, its glaring enormities were long in rousing the
attention of the Indian Government.

A few examples of the activity exercised by the suppressors may be
interesting. They act wholly through the information given by
approvers, who are simply king’s evidences. Of 600 Thugs engaged in the
murder of 64 people, and the plunder of nearly 20,000 pounds, all
except seventy were captured in ten years, though separated into six
gangs, and their operations continued from 1,826 to 1830: the last
party was taken in 1836. And again, between the years 1826 and 1835,
1,562 Thugs were seized, of whom 382 were hanged, and 909 transported;
so that now it is but seldom these wretches are ever heard of.

To show the extent of their operations I shall quote an anecdote from
Sleeman’s Reports (to which I am indebted for most of the above
information). He states that he was for three years in charge of a
district on the Nerbudda, and considered himself acquainted with every
circumstance that occurred in the neighbourhood; yet, during that time,
100 people were murdered and buried within less than a quarter of a
mile of his own residence!

Two hundred and fifty boats full of river Thugs, in crews of fifteen,
infested the Ganges between Benares and Calcutta, during five months of
every year, under pretence of conveying pilgrims. Travellers along the
banks were tracked, and offered a passage, which if refused in the
first boat was probably accepted in some other. At a given signal the
crews rushed in, doubled up the decoyed victim, broke his back, and
threw him into the river, where floating corpses are too numerous to
elicit even an exclamation.

At Mirzapore I engaged a boat to carry me down the river to Bhagulpore,
whence I was to proceed to the Sikkim-Himalaya. The sketch at p.88 will
give some idea of this vessel, which, though slow and very shabby, had
the advantage of being cooler and more commodious than the handsomer
craft. Its appearance was not unlike that of a floating haystack, or
thatched cottage: its length was forty feet, and breadth fifteen, and
it drew a foot and a half of water: the deck, on which a kind of house,
neatly framed of matting, was erected, was but a little above the
water’s edge. My portion of this floating residence was lined with a
kind of reed-work formed of long culms of _Saccharum._ The crew and
captain consisted of six naked Hindoos, one of whom steered by the huge
rudder, sitting on a bamboo-stage astern; the others pulled four oars
in the very bows opposite my door, or tracked the boat along the
riverbank.

In my room (for cabin I cannot call it) stood my palkee, fitted as a
bed, with mosquito curtains; a chair and table. On one side were placed
all my papers and plants, under arrangement to go home; on the other,
my provisions, rice, sugar, curry-powder, a preserved ham, and cheese,
etc. Around hung telescope, botanical box, dark lantern, barometer, and
thermometer, etc., etc. Our position was often _ashore,_ and,
Hindoo-like, on the lee-shore, going bump, bump, bump, so that I could
hardly write. I considered myself fortunate in having to take this slow
conveyance down, it enabling me to write and arrange all day long.

I left on the 15th of March, and in the afternoon of the same day
passed Chunar.[23] This is a tabular mass of sandstone, projecting into
the river, and the eastern termination of the Kymore range. There is
not a rock between this and the Himalaya, and barely a stone all the
way down the Ganges, till the granite and gneiss rocks of the Behar
range are again met with. The current of the Ganges is here very
strong, and its breadth much lessened: the river runs between high
banks of alluvium, containing much kunker. At Benares it expands into a
broad stream, with a current which during the rains is said to flow
eight miles an hour, when the waters rise 43 feet. The fall hence is
300 feet to its junction with the Hooghly, viz., one foot to every
mile. My observations made that from Mirzapore to Benares considerably
greater.

 [23] The first station at which Henry Martyn laboured in India.


Benares is the Athens of India. The variety of buildings along the bank
is incredible. There are temples of every shape in all stages of
completion and dilapidation, and at all angles of inclination; for the
banks give way so much that many of these edifices are fearfully out of
the perpendicular.

The famed mosque, built by Aurungzebe on the site of a Hindoo temple,
is remarkable for its two octagonal minarets, 232 feet above the
Ganges. The view from it over the town, especially of the European
Resident’s quarter, is fine; but the building itself is deficient in
beauty or ornament: it commands the muddy river with its thousands of
boats, its waters peopled with swimmers and bathers, who spring in from
the many temples, water-terraces, and ghats on the city side: opposite
is a great sandy plain. The town below looks a mass of poor, square,
flat-roofed houses, of which 12,000 are brick, and 16,000 mud and
thatch, through the crowd of which, and of small temples, the eye
wanders in vain for some attractive feature or evidence of the wealth,
the devotion, the science, or the grandeur of a city celebrated
throughout the East for all these attributes. Green parrots and pigeons
people the air.

The general appearance of an oriental town is always more or less
ruinous; and here the eye is fatigued with bricks and crumbling
edifices, and the ear with prayer-bells. The bright meadows and green
trees which adorn the European Resident’s dwelling, some four miles
back from the river, alone relieve the monotony of the scene. The
streets are so narrow that it is difficult to ride a horse through
them; and the houses are often six stories high, with galleries
crossing above from house to house. These tall, gaunt edifices
sometimes give place to clumps of cottages, and a mass of dusty ruins,
the unsavoury retreats of vermin and filth, where the _Calotropis
arborea_ generally spreads its white branches and glaucous leaves—a
dusty plant. Here, too, enormous spiders’ webs hang from the crumbling
walls, choked also with dust, and resembling curtains of coarse muslin,
being often some yards across, and not arranged in radii and arcs, but
spun like weaver’s woofs. Paintings, remarkable only for their hideous
proportions and want of perspective, are daubed in vermilion, ochre,
and indigo. The elephant, camel, and porpoise of the Ganges, dog,
shepherd, peacock, and horse, are especially frequent, and so is a
running pattern of a hand spread open, with a blood-red spot on the
palm. A still less elegant but frequent object is the fuel, which is
composed of the manure collected on the roads of the city, moulded into
flat cakes, and stuck by the women on the walls to dry, retaining the
sign-manual of the artist in the impressed form of her outspread hand.
The cognizance of the Rajah, two fish chained together, appears over
the gates of public buildings.

The hundreds of temples and shrines throughout the city are its most
remarkable feature: sacred bulls, and lingams of all sizes, strewed
with flowers and grains of rice meet the eye at every turn; and the
city’s boast is the possession of one million idols, which, of one kind
and another, I can well believe. The great Hindoo festival of the
_Holi_ was now celebrating, and the city more than ordinarily crowded;
throwing red powder (lac and flour), with rose-water, is the great
diversion at a festival more childish by far than a carnival.

Through the kindness of Mr. Reade (the Commissioner), I obtained
admission to the Bishishar-Kumardil, the “holiest of holies.” It was a
small, low, stone building, daubed with red inside, and swarming with
stone images of Brahminee bulls, and various disgusting emblems. A fat
old Brahmin, naked to the waist, took me in, but allowed no followers;
and what with my ignorance of his phraseology, the clang of bells and
din of voices, I gained but little information. Some fine bells from
Nepal were evidently the lion of the temple. I emerged, adorned with a
chaplet of magnolia flowers, and with my hands full of _Calotropis_ and
_Nyctanthes_ blossoms. It was a horrid place for noise, smell, and
sights. Thence I went to a holy well, rendered sacred because Siva,
when stepping from the Himalaya to Ceylon, accidentally let a medicine
chest fall into it. The natives frequent it with little basins or
baskets of rice, sugar, etc., dropping in a little of each while they
mutter prayers.


[Illustration: Equatorial Sun-dial]

The observatory at Benares, and those at Delhi, Matra on the Jumna, and
Oujein, were built by Jey-Sing, Rajah of Jayanagar, upwards of 200
years ago; his skill in mathematical science was so well known, that
the Emperor Mahommed Shah employed him to reform the calendar. Mr.
Hunter, in the “Asiatic Researches,” gives a translation of the
lucubrations of this really enlightened man, as contained in the
introduction to his own almanac.


[Illustration: Equinoctiall Sun-dial]

Of the more important instruments I took sketches; No. 1, is the
Naree-wila, or Equatorial dial; No. 2, the Semrat-yunta, or Equinoctial
dial; No. 3, an Equatorial, probably a Kranti-urit, or Azimuth
circle.[24] Jey-Sing’s genius and love of science seem, according to
Hunter, to have descended to some of his family, who died early in this
century, when “Urania fled before the brazen-fronted Mars, and the best
of the observatories, that of Oujein, was turned into an arsenal and
cannon foundry.”

 [24] Hunter, in As Soc. Researches, 177 (Calcutta); Sir R. Barker in
 Phil. Trans., lxvii. 608 (1777); J. L. Williams, Phil. Trans.,
 lxxxiii. 45 (1793).


[Illustration: Brass Azimuth circle]

The observatory is still the most interesting object in Benares, though
it is now dirty and ruinous, and the great stone instruments are
rapidly crumbling away. The building is square, with a central court
and flat roof, round which the astrolabes, etc. are arranged. A half
naked Astronomer-Royal, with a large sore on his stomach, took me
round—he was a pitiful object, and told me he was very hungry. The
observatory is nominally supported by the Rajah of Jeypore, who doles
out a too scanty pittance to his scientific corps.

In the afternoon Mr. Reade drove me to the Sar-nath, a singular
Boodhist temple, a cylindrical mass of brickwork, faced with stone, the
scrolls on which were very beautiful, and as sharp as if freshly cut:
it is surmounted by a tall dome, and is altogether about seventy or a
hundred feet high. Of the Boodh figures only one remains, the others
having been used by a recent magistrate of Benares in repairing a
bridge over the Goomtee! From this place the Boodhist monuments, Hindoo
temple, Mussulman mosque, and English church, were all embraced in one
_coup d’œil._ On our return, we drove past many enormous mounds of
earth and brick-work, the vestiges of Old Benares, but whether once
continued to the present city or not is unknown. Remains are abundant,
eighteen feet below the site of the present city.

Benares is the Mecca of the Hindoos, and the number of pilgrims who
visit it is incalculable. Casi (its ancient name, signifying splendid),
is alleged to be no part of this world, which rests on eternity,
whereas Benares is perched on a prong of Siva’s trident, and is hence
beyond the reach of earthquakes.[25] Originally built of gold, the sins
of the inhabitants were punished by its transmutation into stone, and
latterly into mud and thatch: whoever enters it, and especially visits
its principal idol (Siva fossilised) is secure of heaven.

 [25] Probably an allusion to the infrequency of these phenomena in
 this meridian; they being common both in Eastern Bengal, and in
 Western India beyond the Ganges.


On the 18th I left Benares for Ghazepore, a pretty town situated on the
north bank of the river, celebrated for its manufacture of rose-water,
the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, and a site of the Company’s stud. The Rose
gardens surround the town: they are fields, with low bushes of the
plant grown in rows, red with blossoms in the morning, all of which
are, however, plucked long before midday. The petals are put into clay
stills, with twice their weight of water, and the produce exposed to
the fresh air, for a night, in open vessels. The unskimmed water
affords the best, and it is often twice and even oftener distilled; but
the fluid deteriorates by too much distillation. The Attar is skimmed
from the exposed pans, and sells at 10 pounds the rupee weight, to make
which 20,000 flowers are required. It is frequently adulterated with
sandal-wood oil.

Lord Cornwallis’ mausoleum is a handsome building, modelled by Flaxman
after the Sybil’s Temple. The allegorical designs of Hindoos and
sorrowing soldiers with reversed arms, which decorate two sides of the
enclosed tomb, though perhaps as good as can be, are under any
treatment unclassical and uncouth. The simple laurel and oak-leaf
chaplets on the alternating faces are far more suitable and suggestive.
_March 21._—I left Ghazepore and dropped down the Ganges; the general
features of which are soon described. A strong current four or five
miles broad, of muddy water, flows between a precipitous bank of
alluvium or sand on one side, and a flat shelving one of sand or more
rarely mud, on the other. Sand-banks are frequent in the river,
especially where the great affluents debouche; and there generally are
formed vast expanses of sand, small “Saharas,” studded with stalking
pillars of sand, raised seventy or eighty feet high by gusts of wind,
erect, stately, grave-looking columns, all shaft, with neither basement
nor capital, the genii of the “Arabian Nights.” The river is always
dotted with boats of all shapes, mine being perhaps of the most common
description; the great square, Yankee-like steamers, towing their
accommodation-boats (as the passengers’ floating hotels are called),
are the rarest. Trees are few on the banks, except near villages, and
there is hardly a palm to be seen above Patna. Towns are unfrequent,
such as there are being mere collections of huts, with the ghat and
boats at the bottom of the bank; and at a respectful distance from the
bazaar, stand the neat bungalows of the European residents, with their
smiling gardens, hedgings and fencings, and loitering servants at the
door. A rotting charpoy (or bedstead) on the banks is a common sight,
the “_sola reliquia_” of some poor Hindoo, who departs this life by the
side of the stream, to which his body is afterwards committed.

Shoals of small goggled-eyed fish are seen, that spring clear out of
the water; and are preyed upon by terns and other birds; a few insects
skim the surface; turtle and porpoises tumble along, all forming a very
busy contrast to the lazy alligator, sunning his green and scaly back
near the shore, with his ichthyosaurian snout raised high above the
water. Birds are numerous, especially early and late in the day. Along
the silent shore the hungry Pariah dog may be seen tearing his meal
from some stranded corpse, whilst the adjutant-bird, with his head sunk
on his body and one leg tucked up, patiently awaits his turn. At night
the beautiful Brahminee geese alight, one by one, and seek total
solitude; ever since having disturbed a god in his slumbers, these
birds are fated to pass the night in single blessedness. The gulls and
terns, again, roost in flocks, as do the wild geese and pelicans,—the
latter, however, not till after making a hearty and very noisy supper.
These birds congregate by the sides of pools, and beat the water with
violence, so as to scare the fish, which thus become an easy prey; a
fact which was, I believe, first indicated by Pallas, during his
residence on the banks of the Caspian Sea. Shells are scarce, and
consist of a few small bivalves; their comparative absence is probably
due to the paucity of limestone in the mountains whence the many
feeders flow. The sand is pure white and small-grained, with fragments
of hornblende and mica, the latter varying in abundance as a feeder is
near or far away. Pink sand[26] of garnets is very common, and
deposited in layers interstratified with the white quartz sand.
Worm-marks, ripple-marks, and the footsteps of alligators, birds and
beasts, abound in the wet sand. The vegetation of the banks consists of
annuals which find no permanent resting-place. Along the sandy shores
the ever-present plants are mostly English, as Dock, a _Nasturtium,
Ranunculus sceleratus, Fumitory, Juncus bufonius,_, Common Vervain,
_Gnaphalium luteo-album,_ and very frequently _Veronica Anagallise._ On
the alluvium grow the same, mixed with Tamarisk, _Acacia Arabica,_ and
a few other bushes.

 [26] I have seen the same garnet sand covering the bottom of the
 Himalayan torrents, where it is the produce of disintegrated gneiss,
 and whence it is transported to the Ganges.


Withered grass abounds; and wheat, dhal (_Cajanus_) and gram (_Cicer
arietinum_), _Carthamus,_ vetches, and rice are the staple products of
the country. Bushes are few, except the universally prevalent Adhatoda
and _Calotropis._ Trees, also, are rare, and of stunted growth; Figs,
the _Artocarpus_ and some _Leguminosa_ prevail most. I saw but two
kinds of palm, the fan-palm, and _Phœnix_: the latter is characteristic
of the driest locality. Then, for the animal creation, men, women, and
children abound, both on the banks, and plying up and down the Ganges.
The humped cow (of which the ox is used for draught) is common. Camels
I occasionally observed, and more rarely the elephant; poneys, goats,
and dogs muster strong. Porpoises and alligators infest the river, even
above Benares. Flies and mosquitos are terrible pests; and so are the
odious flying-bugs,[27] which insinuate themselves between one’s skin
and clothes, diffusing a dreadful odour, which is increased by any
attempt to touch or remove them. In the evening it was impossible to
keep insects out of the boat, or to hinder their putting the lights
out; and of these the most intolerable was the abovementioned
flying-bug. Saucy crickets, too, swarm, and spring up at one’s face,
whilst mosquitos maintain a constant guerilla warfare, trying to the
patience no less than to the nerves. Thick webs of the gossamer spider
float across the river during the heat of the day, as coarse as fine
thread, and being inhaled keep tickling the nose and lips.

 [27] Large Hemipterous insects, of the genus _Derecteryx._


On the 18th, the morning commenced with a dust-storm, the horizon was
about 20 yards off, and ashy white with clouds of sand; the trees were
scarcely visible, and everything in my boat was covered with a fine
coat of impalpable powder, collected from the boundless alluvial plains
through which the Ganges flows. Trees were scarcely discernible, and so
dry was the wind that drops of water vanished like magic. Neither
ferns, mosses, nor lichens grow along the banks of the Ganges, they
cannot survive the transition from parching like this to the three
months’ floods at midsummer, when the country is for miles under water.

_March 23._—Passed the mouth of the Soane, a vast expanse of sand
dotted with droves of camels; and soon after, the wide-spread spits of
sand along the north bank announced the mouth of the Gogra, one of the
vastest of the many Himalayan affluents of the Ganges.

On the 25th of March I reached Dinapore, a large military station,
sufficiently insalubrious, particularly for European troops, the
barracks being so misplaced that the inmates are suffocated: the
buildings run east and west instead of north and south, and therefore
lose all the breeze in the hottest weather. From this place I sent the
boat down to Patna, and proceeded thither by land to the house of Dr.
Irvine, an old acquaintance and botanist, from whom I received a most
kind welcome. On the road, Bengal forms of vegetation, to which I had
been for three months a stranger, reappeared; likewise groves of fan
and toddy palms, which are both very rare higher up the river; clumps
of large bamboo, orange, _Acacia Sissoo, Melia, Guatteria lonjpgolia,
Spondias manjpgera, Odina, Euphorbia pentagona, neriifolia_ and
_trigona,_ were common road-side plants. In the gardens, Papaw,
_Croton, Jatropha, Buddleia, Cookia,_ Loquat, Litchi, Longan, all kinds
of the orange tribe, and the cocoa-nut, some from their presence, and
many from their profusion, indicated a decided change of climate, a
receding from the desert north-west of India, and its dry winds, and an
approach to the damper regions of the many-mouthed Ganges.

My main object at Patna being to see the opium Godowns (stores), I
waited on Dr. Corbett, the Assistant-Agent, who kindly explained
everything to me, and to whose obliging attentions I am much indebted.

The E.I. Company grant licences for the cultivation of the poppy, and
contract for all the produce at certain rates, varying with the
quality. No opium can be grown without this licence, and an advance
equal to about two-thirds of the value of the produce is made to the
grower. This produce is made over to district collectors, who
approximately fix the worth of the contents of each jar, and forward it
to Patna, where rewards are given for the best samples, and the worst
are condemned without payment; but all is turned to some account in the
reduction of the drug to a state fit for market.

The poppy flowers in the end of January and beginning of February, and
the capsules are sliced in February and March with a little instrument
like a saw, made of three iron plates with jagged edges, tied together.
The cultivation is very carefully conducted, nor are there any very
apparent means of improving this branch of commerce and revenue. During
the N.W., or dry winds, the best opium is procured, the worst during
the moist, or E. and N.E., when the drug imbibes moisture, and a watery
bad solution of opium collects in cavities of its substance, and is
called Passewa, according to the absence of which the opium is
generally prized.

At the end of March the opium jars arrive at the stores by water and by
land, and continue accumulating for some weeks. Every jar is labelled
and stowed in a proper place, separately tested with extreme accuracy,
and valued. When the whole quantity has been received, the contents of
all the jars are thrown into great vats, occupying a very large
building, whence the mass is distributed, to be made up into balls for
the markets. This operation is carried on in a long paved room, where
every man is ticketed, and many overseers are stationed to see that the
work is properly conducted. Each workman sits on a stool, with a double
stage and a tray before him. On the top stage is a tin basin,
containing opium sufficient for three balls; in the lower another
basin, holding water: in the tray stands a brass hemispherical cup, in
which the ball is worked. To the man’s right hand is another tray, with
two compartments, one containing thin pancakes of poppy petals pressed
together, the other a cupful of sticky opium-water, made from refuse
opium. The man takes the brass cup, and places a pancake at the bottom,
smears it with opium-water, and with many plies of the pancakes makes a
coat for the opium. Of this he takes about one-third of the mass before
him, puts it inside the petals, and agglutinates many other coats over
it: the balls are then again weighed, and reduced or increased to a
certain weight if necessary. At the day’s end, each man takes his work
to a rack with numbered compartments, and deposits it in that which
answers to his own number, thence the balls (each being put in a clay
cup) are carried to an enormous drying-room, where they are exposed in
tiers, and constantly examined and turned, to prevent their being
attacked by weevils, which are very prevalent during moist winds,
little boys creeping along the racks all day long for this purpose.
When dry, the balls are packed in two layers of six each in chests,
with the stalks, dried leaves, and capsules of the plant, and sent down
to Calcutta. A little opium is prepared of very fine quality for the
Government Hospitals, and some for general sale in India; but the
proportion is trifling, and such is made up into square cakes. A good
workman will prepare from thirty to fifty balls a day, the total
produce being 10,000 to 12,000 a day; during one working season
1,353,000 balls are manufactured for the Chinese market alone.

The poppy-petal _pancakes,_ each about a foot radius, are made in the
fields by women, by the simple operation of pressing the fresh petals
together. They are brought in large baskets, and purchased at the
commencement of the season. The liquor with which the pancakes are
agglutinated together by the ball-maker, and worked into the ball, is
merely inspissated opium-water, the opium for which is derived from the
condemned opium, (Passewa,) the washing of the utensils, and of the
workmen, every one of whom is nightly laved before he leaves the
establishment, and the water is inspissated. Thus not a particle of
opium is lost. To encourage the farmers, the refuse stalks, leaves, and
heads are bought up, to pack the balls with; but this is far from an
economical plan, for it is difficult to keep the refuse from damp and
insects.

A powerful smell of opium pervaded these vast buildings, which Dr.
Corbett[28] assured me did not affect himself or the assistants. The
men work ten hours a day, becoming sleepy in the afternoon; but this is
only natural in the hot season: they are rather liable to eruptive
diseases, possibly engendered by the nature of their occupation.

 [28] I am greatly indebted to Mr. Oldfield, the Opium Agent, and to
 Dr. Corbett, for a complete set of specimens, implements, and
 drawings, illustrating the cultivation and manufacture of Opium. They
 are exhibited in the Kew Museum of Economic Botany.


Even the best East Indian opium is inferior to the Turkish, and owing
to peculiarities of climate, will probably always be so. It never
yields more than five per cent. of morphia, whence its inferiority, but
is as good in other respects, and even richer in narcotine.

The care and attention devoted to every department of collecting,
testing, manipulating, and packing, is quite extraordinary; and the
result has been an impulse to the trade, beyond what was anticipated.
The natives have been quick at apprehending and supplying the wants of
the market, and now there are more demands for licences to grow opium
than can be granted. All the opium eaten in India is given out with a
permit to licensed dealers, and the drug is so adulterated before it
reaches the retailers in the bazaars, that it does not contain
one-thirtieth part of the intoxicating power that it did when pure.

Patna is the stronghold of Mahommedanism, and from its central
position, its command of the Ganges, and its proximity to Nepal (which
latter has been aptly compared to a drawn dagger, pointed at the heart
of India), it is an important place. For this reason there are always a
European and several Native Regiments stationed there. In the
neighbourbood there is little to be seen, and the highly cultivated
flat country is unfavourable to native vegetation.

The _mudar_ plant (_Calotropis_) was abundant here, but I found that
its properties and nomenclature were far from settled points. On the
banks of the Ganges, the larger, white-flowered, sub-arboreous species
prevailed; in the interior, and along my whole previous route, the
smaller purple-flowered kind only was seen. Mr. Davis, of Rotas, was in
the habit of using the medicine copiously, and vouched for the cure of
eighty cases, chiefly of leprosy, by the _white mudar,_ gathered on the
Ganges, whilst the purple of Rotas and the neighbourhood was quite
inert: Dr. Irvine, again, used the purple only, and found the white
inert. The European and native doctors, who knew the two plants, all
gave the preference to the _white_; except Dr. Irvine, whose experience
over various parts of India is entitled to great weight.

_March 29._—Dropped down the river, experiencing a succession of east
and north-east winds during the whole remainder of the voyage. These
winds are very prevalent throughout the month of March, and they
rendered the passage in my sluggish boat sufficiently tedious. In other
respects I had but little bad weather to complain of: only one shower
of rain occurred, and but few storms of thunder and lightning. The
stream is very strong, and its action on the sand-banks conspicuous.
All night I used to hear the falling cliffs precipitated with a dull
heavy splash into the water,—a pretty spectacle in the day-time, when
the whirling current is seen to carry a cloud of white dust, like
smoke, along its course.

The Curruckpore hills, the northern boundary of the gneiss and granite
range of Paras-nath, are seen first in the distance, and then throwing
out low loosely timbered spurs towards the river; but no rock or hill
comes close to the banks till near Monghyr, where two islets of rock
rise out of the bed of the river. They are of stratified quartz,
dipping, at a high angle, to the south-east; and, as far as I could
observe, quite barren, each crowned with a little temple. The swarm of
boats from below Patna to this place was quite incredible.

_April 1._—Arrived at Monghyr, by far the prettiest town I had seen on
the river, backed by a long range of wooded hills,—detached outliers of
which rise in the very town. The banks are steep, and they appear more
so owing to the fortifications, which are extensive. A number of large,
white, two-storied houses, some very imposing, and perched on rounded
or conical hills, give a European aspect to the place.

Monghyr is celebrated for its iron manufactures, especially of muskets,
in which respect it is the Birmingham of Bengal. Generally speaking,
these weapons are poor, though stamped with the first English names. A
native workman will, however, if time and sufficient reward be given,
turn out a first rate fowling-piece. The inhabitants are reported to be
sad drunkards, and the abundance of toddy-palms was quite remarkable.
The latter, (here the _Phœnix sylvestris,_) I never saw wild, but it is
considered to be so in N.W. India; it is still a doubtful point whether
it is the same as the African species. In the morning of the following
day I went to the hot springs of Seeta-koond (wells of Seeta), a few
miles south of the town.


[Illustration: Monghyr on the Ganges, with the Curruckpore Hills in
the distance.]

The hills are hornstone and quartz, stratified and dipping southerly
with a very high angle; they are very barren, and evidently identical
with those on the south bank of the Soane; skirting, in both cases, the
granite and gneiss range of Paras-nath. The alluvium on the banks of
the Ganges is obviously an aqueous deposit subsequent to the elevation
of these hills, and is perfectly plane up to their bases. The river has
its course through the alluvium, like the Soane. The depth of the
former is in many places upwards of 100 feet, and the kunker pebbles it
contains are often disposed in parallel undulating bands. It nowhere
contains sand pebbles or fossils; concretions of lime (kunker) alone
interrupting its uniform consistence. It attains its greatest thickness
in the valleys of the Ganges and the Soane, gradually sloping up to the
Himalaya and Curruckpore hills on either flank. It is, however, well
developed on the Kymore and Paras-nath hills, 1,200 to 1 500 feet above
the Ganges valley, and I have no doubt was deposited in very deep
water, when the relative positions of these mountains to the Ganges and
Soane valleys were the same that they are now. Like every other part of
the surface of India, it has suffered much from denudation, especially
on the above-named mountains, and around their bases, where various
rocks protrude through it. Along the Ganges again, its surface is an
unbroken level between Chunar and the rocks of Monghyr. The origin of
its component

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