“At a meeting of the Asiatic Society on the 6th November, a paper by Col. Waugh, surveyor-general, was read, giving the result of that officer’s operations to determine the height of several Himalayan peaks in the neighbourhood of Darjeeling. Col. Waugh appears to have satisfactorily ascertained that the western peak of Cutchinchinga was 28,176 feet high, and the eastern 27,825—thus claiming for that mountain the greatest altitude on the earth yet known. 1848.”
CHAPTER LVII.
DEPARTURE FROM THE HILLS.
“HE ONLY IS DEAD WHOSE NAME IS NOT MENTIONED WITH RESPECT[33].”
“THE DAYS OF DISTRESS ARE BLACK[34].”
Family Sorrows—The Snowy Ranges after the Rains—Hill Birds—The Park—Hill Boundaries—Stables on Fire—Opening of the Keeree Pass—Danger of passing through it—Dēobund—Return to Meerut—The Tomb of Jaffir Sāhib—Chiri-mars—Country Horses—The Theatre of the 16th Lancers—Colonel Arnold’s Farewell Ball—His Illness—Opinions respecting the War—The Lancers ordered to Afghānistan—Ghurmuktesur Ghāt—Country Boats—Khobarah, the Hill Dog—Sancho—A Dilemma—Gūnths—Knocked over by a Buffalo—Fathīgarh—Dhobīs—Cawnpore—Sāl and Teak Trees—Deism—Points of Faith—The Power of the Brahmāns—A Converted Hindū—Sneezing an Ill Omen—The Return of the Pilgrim.
1838, Sept. 8th.—I made arrangements with my relative to march across the mountains to Simla, a journey of fifteen days from Landowr, and was looking forward with delight to all the adventures we should meet with, and the crossing the river in a basket suspended on a rope fastened across the stream; but he, an old mountaineer, would not permit me to begin the journey until the khuds—which are unwholesome during the rains, and full of fever—should be fit to pass through. A friend had given me the use of a house for some months beyond Simla, and I was anxious to visit that part of the country. In the interval we formed a party to see the mountains at the back of Landowr, and I sent out my hill tents to the interior.
In the evening I was riding alone at Mussoorī, when I met Captain L⸺; there was an embarrassment and distress in his manner that surprised me: he quitted his party, and led my pony away from the walk, where the people were in crowds, and when we were alone informed me of the death of my beloved father. I had received no letters from home: this melancholy event had been known some days at Mussoorī, but no one had had the courage to tell his child. With what pain I reflected on having so long postponed my return home! Letters from Allahabad confirmed the melancholy news, and my kind husband urged my return to England instantly, to see my remaining and widowed parent.
I recalled my tents and people from the interior; and from that moment the thoughts of home, and of what time it would take from the Himalaya to Devonshire, alone filled my thoughts. It was decided I should sail from Calcutta the next cold season.