With the Bombay dâk came that shawl of Colonel Skinner’s I told you we were expecting, but we were so occupied with the letters, we could not at first attend to the shawl; but now, upon investigation, we are all of opinion there never was so handsome an article seen. The dâk was, I suppose, overloaded, so that only one shawl is come. F. and I are in such a horrid fright, lest the other should be lost. We have not the nerve to draw lots for this one; it would be almost less unpleasant to cut it in two.
One of our servants dropped down dead in the verandah three days ago. He was talking and laughing with some of the others, squatting on the ground in their usual fashion, and he just laid his head back and died. He was a young man—one we always called Shylock, from his sharp, Jewish look. There are several of his relations in the establishment, and their screams were horrible: but twelve hours after they buried him. Yesterday they gave a great feast to all the Mussulmauns, and when that is over, they always seem very comfortable again.
Think of T. putting in a letter to F. yesterday, ‘This happy result of the war will of course ensure Lord A.’s elevation to the peerage; there cannot be two opinions about that.’
Curious ignorance, combined with considerable vulgarity! ‘Yet Nature might have made us such as these,’ as Autolycus says; though really I do not see how she could, with any conscience, or without a great deal of trouble. T. is anxious we should stop a few days at —— on our way down, that we may make acquaintance with ‘my dear wife and daughter,’ as he fears it will not suit his finances to go to Calcutta at present. I think I see the whole camp of 12,000 precious souls stopping a few days at a station where there are three Europeans, just to make acquaintance with Mrs. and Miss T.! But all J.’s letters are ‘du Collins tout pur.’
Tuesday, Oct. 8.
The second shawl is come to hand safe. Capt. P. writes from Cashmere that he has seen those that are in the loom there for us, and that they will not be finished for some months, but he says he never saw anything the least like them. He gives such a horrid account of the tyranny of the Sikhs over the Cashmerees, and in their own jaghires, through which he has been passing; their cruelty is dreadful. He has been through the territories belonging to the Jumnoo family, to which Dhian Singh, the prime minister, our friend Heera Singh, and an uncle of his, Gholâb Singh, belong.
The number of persons without noses, or ears, are incredible, and Gholâb Singh, who is the worst of all, actually flayed alive the other day 300 men who had offended him.
It is the practice of that family never to allow a female infant of their race to live; they marry wives from other very high Rajpoot families, but they will not give their daughters to inferior princes nor let them live unmarried, so they are all put away as soon as they are born. I wonder the wives do not get up a little rebellion of their own.
Wednesday, October 9.
Sir E. Ryan, the chief justice, has come up from Calcutta on a hurried tour to see India, and has seen more in five weeks than we have by lumbering about in a camp for two years; and, moreover, we are all aghast and rather affronted at his looks. We meant him to come up with a parboiled Calcutta appearance, instead of which he looks younger and better than when we first saw him; he has a very good colour, and walks everybody to death. He came straight here after his journey up the hills, and met G. and me on the road, took one of our longest walks with us, and never would listen to our offer of the assistance of a pony. He is a pleasant man, a good Whig, and keeps up his English politics, and English books, and English laugh, and enjoys seeing everything, and wants a little cricket in the afternoon. He is staying with Mr. ——, but as the visit is by way of being to us, they dine here most days.