“Its destruction seems as unpopular with the natives as it is with the European community. Its doom, however, being, we believe, sealed, we are gratified to think that the proceeds of its sale are to be devoted to the erection of a permanent bridge of boats over the Jumna at this city, the estimate for which, the supposed value of the gun, with an advance of one or two years’ ferry tolls, is expected to meet. The future surplus funds derived from the bridge will probably, we hear, be expended in forming a new branch road from Raj-ghaut to Mynpoory, to unite with the grand trunk now making between Allahabad and Delhi, under Captain Drummond. We shall, however, postpone till another opportunity our remarks on this and other plans to improve the means of communication in this quarter.”—Mofussil Achbar.
“At five o’clock on Wednesday morning, the Great Gun at this place was burst, other means of breaking it up having proved unsuccessful. The gun was buried about twenty feet deep in the ground, and 1000 lbs. of gunpowder was employed for the explosion. The report was scarcely heard, but the ground was considerably agitated, and a large quantity of the earth was thrown on all sides. As far as we can learn, the chief engineer has at length been completely successful. A large portion of the European community and multitudes of natives were present to witness the novel spectacle. The inhabitants of the city were so alarmed, that a considerable portion abandoned their houses, and that part of the town in the vicinity of the Fort was completely deserted.”—Mofussil Achbar, June 29.
July 18th.—Last night, as I was writing a long description of the tēz-pāt, the leaf of the cinnamon-tree, which humbly pickles beef, leaving the honour of crowning heroes to the laurus nobilis, the servants set up a hue and cry that one of our sā’īses had been bitten by a snake. I gave the man a tea-spoonful of eau-de-luce, which the khānsāmān calls “Blue-dee-roo,” mixed with a little water. They had confined the snake in a kedgeree-pot, out of which he jumped into the midst of the servants; how they ran! The sā’īs is not the worse for the fright, the snake not being a poisonous one; but he says the mem sāhiba has burnt up his interior and blistered his mouth with the medicine. I hope you admire the corruption of eau-de-luce—blue-dee-roo! Another beautiful corruption of the wine-coolers is, soup-tureen for sauterne! Here is a list of absurdities:—
- Harrico, harry cook.
- Parsley, peter selly.
- Mignionette, major mint.
- Bubble-and-squeak, dublin cook.
- Decree, diggery.
- Christmas, kiss miss.
- Butcher, voucher.
- Prisoner, bridgeman.
- Champagne, simkin.
- Trumpeter, jan peter.
- Brigade major, bridget.
- Knole cole, old kooby.
An officer in the 16th Lancers told me he was amused the other day by his servant designating the trumpeter a “poh poh walla.”
The gardener has just brought in a handful of the most beautiful scarlet velvet coloured insects, about the size of two large peas, but flattish, and commonly found on reddish sandy soil, near grass; these insects are used as one of those medicines which native doctors consider efficacious in snake bites: they call them beerbotie; the scientific name is mutella occidentalis.
The carpenter, in cutting down the hedge of the garden, found in the babūl and neem-trees such beautiful creatures; they appear to be locusts; the variety and brilliancy of their colours are wonderful. The upper wings are green, lined out with yellow, the under wings scarlet, the body green, yellow, and black: they are most beautifully marked. I have had some prepared with arsenical soap.
Aug. 4th.—I have just received a present of the first number of Colonel Luard’s most beautiful views in India; how true they are! his snake-catchers are the very people themselves. Apropos, we caught a young cobra yesterday in my dressing-room; the natives said, “Do not kill it; it is forbidden to kill the snake with the holy mark on the back of its head,”—a mark like a horse-shoe. However, as it was the most venomous sort of snake, I put it quietly into my “Bottle of Horrors.” They say snakes come in pairs; we have searched the room and cannot find its companion. It is not pleasant to have so venomous a snake twisting on the Venetian blinds of one’s dressing-room.
8th.—Yesterday, at dinner, our friends were praising the fatted quail, and remarking how well we had preserved them. This morning all the remainder are dead, about two hundred; why or wherefore I know not—it is provoking.