About fifty miles from Cawnpore, and on the banks of the former bed of the Ganges, are the ruins of Kanoge, formerly one of the principal cities of India, and by some supposed to have been the limit of Alexander the Great, in his Eastern campaign.[5]
Above the congregated heaps of mud and brick are seen the white domes of monuments and temples of later construction, like the ghosts of decayed Eastern grandeur peering out on the surrounding desolation. The vicinity of an ancient ruin incites most of us to a contemplative mood. We reflect on the scenes that have been enacted there when the building was tenanted, and its inmates were playing their part on the stage of life. It is true, that the events of those days we have wandered back upon, may not have been a whit more interesting than those at present before us; yet Time generally hallows the past with a certain veneration, especially when connected with associations of classical antiquity such as may be conjured up in Kanoge; and the faintest evidence may lead us to walk on the track of the mighty Macedonian, and think—
"Hic illius arma—
Hic currus fuit."
The atmosphere of Kanoge certainly conveys a sense of desolation surpassing that of any other ruinous city I have visited, and mutely explains its fallen condition unaided by native legends or speculative historians. I have read many discussions on the present and past state of this city; but none, I am convinced, could have visited it at a more impressive period than I did, when a dreadful famine was testifying itself in the faces and forms of the scanty, emaciated inhabitants.
Advancing up the country, we found during nearly every march a grove of trees sufficiently extensive to encamp under, which sheltered us considerably from the sun and dust, both of which were becoming seriously disagreeable, especially the latter, which rose daily about noon, with the wind setting in at that time, and lasted till sunset, when it dropped, leaving everything in the tent buried an inch deep in dust; and then came our ancient enemies the mosquitoes.
Three weeks marching carried us over two hundred miles of country, and to a town called Koorja, within sixty miles of Merut, where we experienced a severe typhoon, which, though of common occurrence in Upper India, was the first I had seen, and the most destructive that had been felt that season. It came on suddenly about four in the afternoon, having given us no notice of its approach, for the appearance all round had been hazy during the afternoon. In five seconds, we were enveloped in complete darkness, caused by clouds of sand and dust raised by the tempest, and whirled through the air. The howling of the storm was accompanied by almost incessant peals of thunder. As the typhoon increased in violence, the fiery appearance of the dust, from the continued gleaming of lightning, presented a singular effect. In the course of a quarter of an hour, two tents were levelled and torn to pieces, and my own quivered to such a degree, that, expecting to be carried away with it, I got clear of the impending wreck, and, groping my way out to leeward, came immediately in contact with a huge bullock. Any port in a storm, thought I, as I clung to the monster's horns for an anchorage. He, like an unfeeling brute, struggled hard to get rid of the burden; and the contest was at the fiercest, when, coming in contact with a hackery, to which he was attached, we both rolled on the ground together. "Taree machee!" screamed an unhappy gharuwan,[6] against whom we fell; but his invective was cut short by a kick in the stomach from my antagonist. Rejoiced to find a more passive assistant in the hackery-wheels, I let go the refractory bullock, and held on by the cart until the storm abated. This took place in a few minutes; when, creeping from my shelter, amid a deluge of rain, into a portion of the tent that fortunately remained standing, I lay in comparative comfort, listening to the retiring rattle of the thunder.
We then set about repairing the damages of the camp, and soon put it in condition to afford shelter for the night.
At daybreak, the whole country appeared one sheet of water, through which we marched; and, having lost our guide, soon afterwards lost our way. Having wandered some miles in search of a road, we came at length to a village, where, seizing upon an unwilling guide, we were by him conducted across country, or rather across water, to our destination.
The land assumed a more green and cheerful aspect for the last five marches into Merut, which we reached, without any further accidents, on the 10th of April.
As the hot winds, which are not agreeable "compagnons de voyage," were daily expected to set in, we congratulated ourselves on the conclusion of this long and weary march of nearly nine hundred miles, which was accomplished in ninety-six days.