Then, again, suppose I had told you that I desired the men to be quiet, and they obeyed me: that would have been much shorter, but it would not have led the mind on to any other train of thought; whereas the narrative, as I have related it, suggests many ideas which, if followed up, would fill whole pages; for instance—
1st. Why did the men dread the whip, when they were equally well armed?
2nd. Are they accustomed to feel it?
3rd. Are they generally oppressed, and in what way; and would a native government be an advantage to them?
4th. In what does that superiority consist which makes one hundred Hindus afraid of one European?
5th. What is civilization? What is the difference between real civilization, and that knowledge of arts and sciences, of railroads and balloons, which is commonly dignified with the name? And also what is the connexion between real, true civilization and religion?
Here are a few out of numberless trains of thought and questions which might arise, and do naturally arise, from the little anecdote I have given. Now, suppose I had said, "At one stage Mrs. L. said something to me which I could not well make out on account of the noise the men made; however, I soon quieted them, and then found that she wanted some wine-and-water." That description would have given no idea of what actually took place, neither would it have afforded any subject for after consideration.
It was bitterly cold last night. I had on cloak, trowsers, a flannel jacket next my skin, a thick coat buttoned up to my neck, a double blanket over me, and both doors of my palkee shut. Yet I awoke about four o'clock this morning shivering with the cold, and was glad to get out and have a good run of two or three miles, flapping my arms against my sides, to restore the warmth. Mrs. Acland has complained of the cold for the last two days, even at twelve o'clock at noon. The fact is, people here become so accustomed to intense heat that they often find the cold weather very trying, and the hot season is notoriously the most healthy part of the year, though I fancy it is now as warm as an English summer.
Poor Mr. B., with whom we stayed while at Pooree, has had an attack of the terrible jungle-fever, and will, I fear, be obliged to return to England. A sick person, at least in my district, is quite a rarity: all the diseases are so rapid in their operation, that a week's illness is considered a long time. If it is violent, the patient generally dies in a few hours, or at most in two or three days; if slight, he is by that time convalescent, and generally proceeds at once either to the Cape of Good Hope or to England.
[Cuttack, December 10.]
I have been to Midnapore and back again. Whilst I was at Balasore information was brought in that one hundred and fifty or two hundred elephants had come down into the paddy-fields about twelve miles from Balasore, and that they were destroying the crops. Two or three of the Europeans there wanted to make up a party to go and attack them; I should very much like to have gone with them, but could not afford the time; so the proposition fell to the ground.
It is dangerous sport, but very exciting. The elephant is invulnerable except at one point, and that is a small hollow in the middle of the forehead. I said invulnerable, but that is an improper word; I mean, that that little spot is the only point where you can hit him fatally. Fancy an enormous elephant charging at full speed down a narrow path, with dense jungle on either side, and the sportsman standing still till he comes almost close, and then aiming at the forehead. Suppose he misses the one little spot—the elephant seizes him with his trunk, dashes him to the ground, and then kneels upon and crushes him; that is to say, if it is a fierce male elephant. The tusks of a large one are worth fifty pounds.