6th July. We were off soon after daylight, following so followers, scaled the mountain, and so commanded the fortress below. Then, a few musket shots being fired, the valiant Bhooties fled manfully.
Under the young trees on an island, gained by stepping stones, I halted to breakfast. Pleased with the picturesque aspect, the cool shade, and fresh moist air, I determined to rest till the sun's abated heat rendered trudging less disagreeable. In the course of the day my attendants passed on; and in due time we also toiled up the zigzag path to the old fort, and travelling over a very stony valley, with a patch of cultivation here and there, reached our quarters, a charming spot for these barbarous regions, a considerable expanse of richly cultivated land, the crops now forward and high.
The mountains here receding yield a large space for cultivation, of which the inhabitants have availed themselves to the utmost, running their fields and terraces high up the steep slopes, and by means of conduits, ingeniously and laboriously constructed, contrive to compel reluctant nature to bring forth abundant vegetation. The whole landscape is dotted with fine willow trees of large growth, and lines of them flourish thickly planted along the watercourses. And, greatly adding to the beauty and charm of these attractive hamlets, are found a profusion of wild roses, single-blossomed like our red dog-rose, but of powerful perfume. These delicious shrubs line many of the channels for irrigation, reminding one of many a village lane in a far distant land.
The houses of these rude people—rude only in their condition, otherwise personally civil—are rough solid structures of stone, flat-roofed, with a mere hole for a window which, like the door, is closed by a wattled shutter. On the roof is stored the highly-valued, hard-to-be-got supply of fuel, some few fagots, the clippings of the willows, the only species of tree affording anything like timber, and of which their entire stock of implements of husbandry and utensils are formed. Well may they protect and cherish these invaluable trees. They must have some stringent laws for their preservation, and rules for their lopping and felling; the latter extreme measure, I believe, being rarely resorted to, as the branches being lopped, and the very vitals, as it were, of the trunk pared and scooped out, the frame, just the cuticle, clings to life, and again does good service, recovering from its hacking, and putting forth shoots, and putting on branches, times unreckoned.
My tent was pitched on a patch of beautiful greensward, adjoining a square stone building of some pretensions in these parts, a sort of stronghold in days past, and uniting that character with that of a store for grain in the present day, the Maharajah's dues in the various produce being gathered in here from the neighbouring districts. There was but one sepoy here, and a remarkably handsome pleasing-looking young fellow he was.
If the aspect of the villages at this season is charming, that of the inhabitants is, and must at all times be, repulsive. Their features are hideous, excepting an occasional good open forehead, a redeeming feature, giving a look of intelligence to otherwise brutish countenances. Their want of attraction is increased by the state of filth they wallow in. The men are clothed in a sort of loose tunic of dark brown woollen, felt leggings wound round by garters, and felt boots with leathern feet. These are large canoe-shaped things, having no reference to the size or shape of the foot, but are wadded with old shreds and woollen rags to make them fit. A close-fitting skullcap, with an upturned rim, crowns their greasy heads. Then, the females—can they be the fair sex, these hideous specimens of creation human? They wear, also, a dark woollen tunic reaching to the knees, with continuations of the same materials. As far as I have seen they have no head covering, but wear their greasy hair in plaits and tresses, and actually adorn their chevelure with the wild flowers, roses, &c., with all the vanity that might an European beauty. These ill-placed ornaments are disposed over either temple. They also wear felt boots; theirs, as the men's, being wide at top, and reaching above the ancle, giving to both sexes a clumsiness about the feet, which adds to their uncouth, ungraceful appearance. Both sexes wear a goat skin with the hair on, as a cloak. They have some rude gewgaws by way of jewellery; and where are the females found who have not? The Australian aboriginal ladies, who may be quoted as in the most humble circumstances, wear a white bone thrust through the cartilage of the nose-bones, shells, or stones in their ears—and a dab of raw meat fat, by preference, in their locks, and think it the 'ne plus ultra' of feminine adornment. It remains only to note, that so valued and valuable are these creatures here, that one individual is allotted to two or three husbands—one wife to a family of brothers—which of itself sufficiently establishes their utter barbarism.
A young official, a Cashmiri, the moonshi of the Sooroo kardar, had come on with us to make the necessary arrangements for coolies and tattoos. One of the latter had been provided for me to-day, but looked such a woe-begone thing that I did not like to entrust it with my person, somewhat too weighty for such a bit of a steed; so I trudged it out. But, feeling considerable fatigue and soreness of foot from the long rough journey, I assented to a tattoo being provided for the morrow, and several were now paraded for choice, mostly mares with foals beside them. By the bye, I must note that a mile from Sooroo we had to cross a torrent—all torrents here—by one of those ingenious and curious suspension bridges, doubtless the originals from which our magnificent structures were conceived and framed, made of twigs of willow woven into ropes, and the ropes into large cables. They are thus constructed. A pier of stones is built up without mortar, on either side, close to the water: within the pier are planted two upright stems of trees about two feet apart, and a transverse one secured on the top, over which the suspension cables are hauled and strained, and fastened down by large stones piled on them: the footway is a plait of this twig work about ten inches wide, suspended from the two side cables by numerous connecting ropes of like manufacture, of about three feet depth. One ascends the pile of stones, stooping low, creeps through the two uprights, and with a hand on each side-cable performs a sort of acrobatic 'pas' on the slack rope, swinging about uncomfortably. However, I relished the novelty of the thing, this being the first of these bridges I had come across. My little dog, Sara, did not relish it at all, but, having assayed a step or two, retreated in a very ridiculous, nervous manner, and was then ignominiously carried over, enveloped in a cloth, on the sepoy's shoulders, whence he anxiously watched the passage. And how he did skip and jump, when he was safe over!
I must also remember to note that many birds of European kinds were met with, some of which I had not found before, as magpies, and the pretty little goldfinch. There are larks too, which are common enough, and enliven these regions with their merry notes, warbling until quite dark at evening, and again, ere coming day, cheering one with their quick trilling chirp and song. The homely sparrow, too, was present, and also the solemn old crow. A couple of the former quaint, pert, little birds attended most familiarly at my dinner, coming fearlessly close to the table to receive fragments, only temporarily routed by the sudden desperate onslaughts of Sara at them, who pursued them with relentless animosity, they just keeping beyond his reach, and again returning when he, out of breath, was busily occupied with his bone. They were merely birds attached to the village, quite at large, yet wonderfully tame, and treating me as an old acquaintance, jumping to catch bits thrown to them, their bright, little, black eyes glittering and rolling, as they appeared as though they were saucily winking at me—the jolly old birds!
The name of this village was Sarkur, as near as I can define the sound.