THE ḴH̱ARĪṬA.
فاني پارکس
July 3rd.—I rode over to Cloud End, inspected the new house, and trained young convolvulus plants over the bamboo hedge around the garden: the rain descended in torrents; it was very cold and uncomfortable. At 7 P.M., being anxious to get home before dark, although it was still raining, I ordered my gūnth; my relative wrapped me up in his military cloak, and put a large Indian-rubber cape above it; in this attire I hoped to keep myself dry during my ride home of seven miles. I had not proceeded a mile from the estate when the storm came on in the fearful style of mountain tempests; the thunder burst roaring over my head, the lightning spread around in sheets of flame, and every now and then the flashes of forked lightning rendered me so blind I could not see the path for some minutes. I had two servants with me; they walked before the gūnth, but were unable very often to trace the road, it was so dark amidst the trees, and the whole time the rain fell in torrents. I saw a dark space in front of the horse, and asked, “What is that?” “Oh, nothing,” said the sā’īs, “ride on.” But I stopped, and sent him forward. At this spot three or four trees had been thrown across a precipice; over these earth had been laid to some depth to form a road; the earth had been entirely washed away by the force of a stream of water, produced from the heavy rain, and had fallen into the precipice:—the darkness was the hollow produced by the chasm! I dismounted; the trees were still below, across the hollow; with difficulty I clambered down, got over the trunks, and up the other side; it was almost perfectly dark. I called the gūnth; the cunning little fellow looked at the hollow, stamped his fore-feet on the ground as if he disliked it, sprang up the bank on the other side, and was in safety by me. I remounted him and proceeded,—an act that required a good deal of quiet courage.
“The darkness of the night is a collyrium to the eyes of the mole[30].” It certainly was not to mine: after I had been out two hours I found that I had advanced four miles on a path that was covered by high trees on every side, rendering it the more dangerous; the lightning was very vivid, and I saw a flash strike the roof of a house; suddenly a faintness came over me, with difficulty I kept in my saddle, and feeling ill, I desired the servant to lead the gūnth to the first gentleman’s house he came near. As soon as we arrived at a bungalow we went up to the verandah, when an officer, hearing a lady was exposed to such a storm, and wished for shelter, came out and took me into the house: I was so much exhausted, the tears ran down my face, and I almost fainted away. They gave me wine, and took off the Indian-rubber cloak, which, most likely, was the cause of the extreme oppression that overcame me.
The lady and gentleman in whose house I had taken refuge were very kind; dry clothes soon replaced my wet habit, and they gave me a bed; however, I was far too much excited to go to sleep, and was disturbed by queer sounds in an outhouse, not far from my sleeping room. I got up, opened my door, wished to call my host, but not knowing his name, lay down again and listened. In the morning the mystery was explained: a lady staying at the house had two she-asses for her baby, which were in an outhouse near my room; the night before my arrival a leopard had broken into the outhouse in which the donkeys were fastened, and had killed them both; they were found dead with their halters on. The night I was there the leopard came again, tore one of the carcases from the halter, and carried it down the khud;—this was the strange noise that prevented my sleeping. Quite a night of adventures. The carcases had been left on purpose, and some of the officers of the Buffs were to have laid wait for the leopard that night, but the storm prevented their quitting their houses.
Captain S⸺ came to Landowr the next day: he was surprised at my having passed the broken road in the darkness of the storm; even by daylight, he passed over it with difficulty—perhaps the darkness aided me, as it prevented my being giddy.
11th.—Rode to the Botanical Gardens; observed several young tea plants, which were flourishing. The bright yellow broom was in full flower; it put me in mind of the country by the sea-side at Christchurch, Hants, where the broom is in such luxuriance. We feasted on Cashmere apricots, which, though not to be compared to those of Europe, were agreeable to the taste.
12th.—Storms, storms,—rain, rain,—day by day,—night by night: thermometer at noon, 66°.