ADANSONIA DIGITATA.
Dec. 5th.—The gunpowder agency at Papamhow has been done away with by the government, and our friend has quitted us for England. I must not take leave of Papamhow without mentioning the remarkable trees in the grounds. The natives call them veläitee imlee. They are enormous trees, natives of Africa. Adansonia digitata, from Michel Adanson, a French botanist. M. G. Mollien thus speaks of this tree—the boabab, Ethiopian sour-gourd, or monkeys’-meat tree—in his travels in Africa: “This was the first time that I saw the boabab, that enormous tree which has been described by Adanson, and which bears his name ‘Adansonia.’ I measured one, and found it to be forty feet in circumference. This majestic mass is the only monument of antiquity to be met with in Africa. To the negroes the boabab is perhaps the most valuable of vegetables. Its leaves are used for leaven, its bark furnishes indestructible cordage, and the bees form their hives in the cavities of its trunk. The negroes, too, often shelter themselves from storms in its time-worn caverns. The boabab is indisputably the monarch of African trees.” It is also called monkeys’-bread. Several measured by Adanson were from sixty-five to seventy-eight feet in circumference, but not extraordinarily high. The bark furnishes a coarse thread, used in Africa for cloth and ropes; the small leaves are used as bread in times of scarcity, and the large for covering their houses, or, by burning, for the manufacture of soap.
ADANSONIA DIGITATA.
On Stone by Major Parlby
فاني پارکس
This tree may be styled the Jugunnāth of the forest, from the style in which it grows; its large branches terminating in an abrupt end, from which the small branches are given off.
Ropes made of the boabab-tree are indestructible; there is a saying, “As secure as an elephant bound with a boabab rope.” Two of these fine trees are still standing in the grounds, there were originally three; the sketch was taken in January, 1827. One of the trees fell down in the rains of that year, on the day Lord Amherst arrived at Allahabad on his return from the hills; it measured thirty-five feet in circumference, and we were surprised to find it had scarcely any roots. It did not fall from age, or from the wind, but because the branches on one side were much heavier than those on the other. It was so full of juicy sap that, when the tree was cut, the sap ran out like water, and the agent preserved some of it in bottles. The wood was woolly, spongy, of little or no use as timber, and useless even as firewood—it would not burn.
Another of these trees, which measured thirty-seven feet in circumference, is still in the grounds, which are on the banks of the Ganges.
The tree that fell was supposed by the natives to be 1100 years old. It is only wonderful, from the short distance the roots penetrated into the ground, it had not long ago been laid prostrate by a tūfān. These trees are natives of Senegal, and are known in central India; but those at Papamhow are the only ones on our side the country.
Adanson supposed this tree to exceed almost any other in longevity. He inferred that the one he measured, and found to be thirty feet in diameter, had attained the age of 5150 years. Having made an incision to a certain depth of the stem, he first counted 300 rings of annual growth, and observed what thickness the tree had gained in that period. The average rate of growth of younger trees of the same species was then ascertained, and the calculation was made according to the supposed mean rate of increase.
Had we known the proverb at this time, we would have made ropes of its bark. On the very topmost bough of one of the trees a vulture had built its nest, and appeared to have made the boabab its city of refuge; the aerie was filled annually.
The flower is large, beautiful, and smells like a ripe apple; the fruit small and granular; the leaves large and fine. It is said there are several species of this tree in Africa, one of which yields a large fruit.
During the annual fair held in the grounds at Papamhow in the month of August, the gaily dressed natives congregated under the widely spreading branches of the Adansonia, increased the picturesque beauty of the trees.
Let me record the death of little Jack Bunce, my pet squirrel. On our arrival at Prāg I went into the stable to see a sick horse, and, hearing a chirping noise, looked up, and saw a young squirrel, which, having escaped from its nest, was in great perplexity on its first expedition from home. I caught it. Its eyes were open; but it could not run very fast. For the first week it lived either in my husband’s pocket or on my shoulder; if alarmed, it took refuge with him. It became very tame, and never ran away. A gay house with two rooms was built for it. At first it drank milk and ate sweetmeats (pera); as it grew older it had bread, grain, milk, and whatever it pleased during meals, at which time it would quit my shoulder for the table. We caught several young ones, and put them into Jack’s cage; he was pleased, and tended them like a little old nurse; but they grew very wild, and we let them go, with the exception of one little female whom Jack reared as his helpmate, and appeared very fond of her; she was very wild, and would not allow me to touch her. They went with me to Lucnow. One night I heard Jack and his wife quarrelling violently—she bit off his beautiful long tail, and Jack killed her for it: the wretches also ate their young one. Jack returned with me, and, to complete his education, I took him to the holy city of Benares, that he might gain absolution for his little improprieties. Never was there so travelled a squirrel! He lived with us three years, always fat, sleek, and merry; and very fond of us, chirping and running to us when we called him; at last he fell ill, and died quickly. Sometimes he would run off into the garden, but when I called him would return, run up my gown to my shoulder, and give a shrill peculiar whistle; he was the largest of the kind I ever saw, and the three streaks down his back were beautiful. Poor little Jack! you were a nice and sensible little animal! The males are more courageous, and more easily tamed, than the females.
At this time the plain in front of the fort, by the avenue on the side of the Jumna, was exceedingly picturesque. It was covered by an encampment awaiting the arrival of the Governor-general. There were assembled 200 elephants, 1000 camels, horses and hackeries, servants and natives without number. A double set of new tents for the Governor-general were pitched on the plain; the tents which were new the year before, and which cost a lac, having been discarded. These new tents, the elephants, camels, horses, and thousands of servants, will cost the Company more than half-batta saves in the course of a year.
News have just arrived that the Directors have rendered all this encampment useless, by sending orders to Lord William Bentinck not to proceed up the country at their expense; in consequence Lord William has discharged the people. I am glad they are going away. Last night a friend of ours, who is in tents in our grounds, had his gun and dressing-case stolen, no doubt by thieves from the encampment.
20th.—The ashes of a rajah were brought to Prāg this morning to be thrown into the Ganges at the holy junction; they were accompanied by the servants of the rajah, bearing presents to be given, as is the custom, to the Brahmans, amongst which were two remarkably fine Persian horses. One of these horses, a flea-bitten grey from Bokhara, was bought by us from the Brahman to whom it had been presented. On Christmas-day my husband gave me this horse, making my own particular riding-stud amount to a fair number—Mootee, Black Poney, Trelawny, Bokhara. Are ladies in England as fond of their horses as I am? They cannot make pets of them in that country as we can in India.
25th.—How many presents I received this day—and such odd ones—the Bokhara grey, a sketch of Lord William Bentinck, Martin’s Deluge, a proof-print, a bag of walnuts, a diamond ring, a hill-shawl, two jars of jam, and two bottles of hill-honey! All farewell-gifts from friends bound to England. We spent the evening around the horseshoe-table, the coal fire blazing brightly as we cracked the hill-walnuts and enjoyed the society of our friends. Of all the offerings of that day, the most welcome was a packet of letters from the beloved and absent ones in England. “A letter is half an interview[50].”
A KUTCHERRY.
C. D’Oyly, delᵗ.
On Stone by Major Parlby.
CHAPTER XIII.
REMOVAL TO CAWNPORE.—CONFESSIONS OF A THUG.
“WHAT VARIETY OF HERBS SOEVER ARE SHUFFLED TOGETHER IN THE DISH, YET THE WHOLE MASS IS SWALLOWED UP IN ONE NAME OF sallet. IN LIKE MANNER I WILL MAKE A HODGE-PODGE OF DIFFERING ARTICLES.”
1830.—Removal to Cawnpore—Failure of Messrs. Palmer and Co.—An Appointment at Cawnpore—Removal from Allahabad—The Mowa Tree—Futtehpore—Dead Body in a Well—The Kutcherry—Confessions of a Thug.
Jan. 1830.—The failure of Messrs. Palmer and Co., early in this month, caused the greatest consternation in India, and fell most severely on the widows and orphans of military men, who, having left their little portions in Palmer’s house, had returned to England.
9th.—My husband gave over charge of his office to Mr. N⸺, who had returned from the Cape, and we began to speculate as to our destiny.
March 1st.—My husband, having applied to remain up the country, was informed he might proceed to Cawnpore as acting-collector for eight months, on condition that he consented to give up the deputation-allowance, to which he was entitled by the rules of the Civil Service. The conditions were hard, although offered as a personal favour, and were accepted in preference to returning to Calcutta.
Cawnpore, 150 miles from Allahabad, and 50 from Lucnow, a large station, is on a bleak, dreary, sandy, dusty, treeless plain, cut into ravines by torrents of rain; if possible, the place is considered hotter than Prāg.
Like the patriarchs of old we travelled with our flocks and herds, or, rather, we sent them on in advance, and followed dāk.
March 27th.—We quitted Allahabad, and drove the first stage to Allumchund, where we were kindly received by friends. At this place I first remarked the mowa-tree (bassia longifolia). The fruit was falling, and the natives were collecting it to make bazār srāb (ardent spirits). The fruit, which is white, only falls during the day-time; when dried, it is given to cows as cheap food—from it the butter takes a fine yellow colour.
In the evening we proceeded dāk, and arrived the next morning at the house of the judge of Futtehpore. Just before entering his compound, (grounds around a house,) I stopped my palanquin, and desired a bearer to draw me a lota full of water from a well at the road side. The man took the brass vessel, which was fastened to a very long string, and threw it into the well; then drawing it up, he poured the contents on the ground, saying, “A thuggee has been committed, you cannot drink that water. Did you not hear the lota—bump—bump upon a dead body in the well[51]?” I reported the circumstance on my arrival, and not having before heard of the Thugs, was very much interested in the following account of “The Confessions of a Thug.”
These fellows, it appears, roam about the country in gangs, strangling people for their money; it is their only employment. During the three weeks of my stay at Futtehpore, the bodies of three men were found in the neighbouring wells—thugged, that is, strangled. Some years ago the Thugs were in great force, but they were well looked after by the police, and a thuggee was seldom committed: within a few months they have become very daring, especially around Cawnpore, Humeerpore, and Futtehpore.