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.