31st.—A most fearful storm during the night,—one that was sufficient to make me quit my bed, to look after my little widow and the bābās, i.e., children. The paharīs informed me a few days ago that the banglā or thatched house in which I am living has been three times struck by lightning, and twice burned to the ground!—an agreeable reminiscence during so violent a storm. As the lightning, if it strike a house, often runs round the walls of a room, from the iron of one wall shade to that of another, and then pursuing its course down to the grate, tears out the bars, and descends into the earth, we took the precaution of sitting in the centre of the room, avoiding the sides. My fair friend laughed, in spite of her alarm, when I repeated the old verses:—
“Ellen, from lightning to secure her life,
Draws from her pocket the attractive knife;
But all in vain, my fair, this cautious action,
For you can never be without attraction.”
Sept. 1st.—A most delightful day,—sunshine, absolute sunshine,—the Hills so gay and beauteous after the deluge of so many weeks: the ponies came to the door, and we enjoyed the day to its fullest extent. Some leaf butterflies were caught and brought to me; they are very large and curious,—the back of the wing is like two autumnal leaves laid upon one another. It is said that every month the appearance of the leaf butterfly changes, varying with the leaves. Those that were caught for me were like autumnal leaves, and were of two kinds. I made a large collection of butterflies, both at Allahabad and in the Hills; in the latter place many rare and valuable sorts are found. The Map butterfly, so called from the map-like tracery on its wings, is difficult to catch, it flies so high; it is very beautiful. The large black butterfly, that has four brilliant purple eyes on its wings, is perhaps as handsome as any; but it has a rival in the emerald green long-tailed one, whose under wings are dashed with purple, and edged with rose-coloured spots. There is also a long-tailed black butterfly, the upper wings of which exhibit stripes of black and white, while the under ones have seven rose-coloured spots and four white marks in the centre. I am told the most valuable are the small purple ones with long tails. It were too long a task to enumerate the various beautiful specimens procured for me of these “insect queens of eastern spring.” The privates of the Lancers and Buffs added to my collection, and were very anxious to give their butterflies in return for the beer brewed in the Hills; which, though it cannot be compared to Bass’s or Allsopp’s Pale Ale, is very fair, when you consider it is country made.
5th.—A letter informed me of the bursting of the Mahratta Bāndh at Allahabad: the Ganges poured through the gap, inundating the whole country, until it reached the Jumna just above the Fort, leaving the latter completely insulated. Our house, being close to the bank of the Jumna, escaped, but was on every side surrounded by water. M. mon mari had two large boats anchored near, to receive himself, his horses, his flocks, and his herds, should the river rise any higher. The Bāndh burst on the 23rd of August; it swept away the villages of Kyd and Mootī Gunge, carrying away all the thatched huts, the brick houses alone escaping. The Jumna rose to within seven feet of the top of the very high bank on which the chabūtara (terrace) in our garden is placed. The damage done to the crops and villages is estimated at four lākh; besides this, the force of the water rushing upon the bastion of the Fort has caused it to fall in; it will cost forty or fifty thousand rupees to repair the bastion.
6th.—Ill: my ayha is so kind and so careful of me: what a good servant I find her! Apropos—grain is at present very dear at Landowr; gram, twelve seer per rupee.
“One wife is enough for a whole family[32].” “Where do you live?” said I to one of my servants, a Paharī (mountaineer), who had just deposited his load of rhododendron wood, or, as he calls it, flower wood, in the verandah. “Three days’ journey from this, in the pahar (mountain,)” said the man. “Are you married?” said I. The man looked annoyed; “Who will marry me? How can I have a wife? there are but three of us.” Having heard of the singular customs of the Paharīs with regard to marriage, I pursued my interrogation. “Why cannot you marry?” “We are only three brothers; if there were seven of us we might marry, but only three, who will marry us?” The greater the number of the family the more honourable is the connexion, the more respected is the lady. “But who claims the children?” “The first child belongs to the eldest brother, the second to the second brother, and so on, until the eighth child is claimed by the eldest brother, if there be a family of seven.”
I have heard that the Hill women destroy their female offspring, thinking the lot of woman too hard to endure. The price of a wife is high, from the scarcity of women, and may account for the disgusting marriages of the Paharīs.