25th.—Passed Jungipūr; paid the toll which is levied for keeping open the entrance of the Bhagirathī; anchored at Kamalpūr, a straggling picturesque village: cows are here in the greatest abundance—the village swarms with them; they swim the cows over the river in herds to graze on the opposite bank, and swim them back again in the evening; a couple of men usually accompany the herd, crossing the river by holding on to the tail of a cow: the animals take to the water as a thing of course; on their arrival at the cottages, they are tied up with food before them, and a smouldering fire is kept up near them all night: the cows enveloped in the smoke are free from the worrying of the insects. Mr. Laruletta has a large silk manufactory at Jungipūr; he lives in the Residency, which he purchased from the Government; it is forty-two miles above Berhampūr. The villages of Gurka and Kidderpūr are on the opposite bank.
26th.—Quitted the Bhagirathī and entered on the Ganges: stopped at a place famous for bamboos, consisting of a few huts built of mats on the river-side, where bamboos and ardent spirits are sold. My mānjhī bought nine very large newly-cut bamboos for one rupee five ānās, and complained of their being very dear! Crossed the river, and anchored above the village of Konsert, at the Luckipūr indigo factory, a most melancholy looking place, the bungalow in ruins—the owner resides on the opposite side of the river. There is a very fine banyan tree on the Ghāt, at Konsert, and two very fine silk cotton trees (bombax heptaphyllum) in front of the factory. The kajūr (phœnix dactylifera, common date palm,) flourishes here,—it is remarkable for its lofty trunk, rugged on account of the persistent vestiges of the decayed leaves.
27th.—Passed Dulalpūr and saw the factory of Chandnī Kotī in the distance, where I met with so much hospitality on my expedition to the ruins of Gaur. Heard of Mr. Sinclair’s death, which took place about a year ago, most likely from the jungle fever. After a pleasant sail with a fair wind, had the first sight of the Hills; anchored on a cool, clear, and fresh sandbank in the middle of the Ganges—the moon high, the night quiet and agreeable. I took a camera lucida on deck, and was much amused with the delight of the crew when they looked into it. They called it a Kompās, and were very anxious to have their own likenesses taken.
28th.—Thermometer 82° in the cabin at noon; not a breath of air, the river very broad and shallow; it is hardly possible to find water enough to float the budgerow. We are just passing a steamer with a cargo flat in tow; she has grounded, and there she is in the midst of the river burning with heat, whilst the little pilot boats are trying to find some channel deep enough for her. Like the hare and the tortoise in the fable, we shall reach the goal first. Imagine the heat of the iron steamer, the bright river giving back the sun’s rays, and looking like unruffled glass around her; the inside of the vessel must resemble a well-heated iron oven. Lugāoed off Husseinpūr. The woolāk (baggage-boat) came up late; for the second time she has run foul of the budgerow, and has done her some damage. The mānjhī of the woolāk cannot see after sunset, having what the natives call rāt andhā, or night blindness: he can see well enough during the day time;—this is rather a disagreeable affliction for the master of a vessel.
29th.—Passed the steamer and flat with passengers for Calcutta—very hot and oppressive—arrived near Rajmahāl, and found a large portion of the bank of the river had fallen in;—it was a little land-slip. The palm-trees on the fallen land were in most picturesque disorder. Moored off the ancient palace of Rajmahāl: the river, which formerly washed its walls, has deserted it, and the deep current is on the opposite side, leaving an almost dry bed before the ruins. Visited the old baolī (well), which is beautified by age: down the centre of it hang long pendant shoots of the banyan, and the roots of trees: thence I proceeded to the tombs of the Europeans, and to the gateway. Several cows were quietly ruminating under the black marble arches of the verandah of the palace that overlooks the river. The steamers take in their coal a mile below, and therefore do not destroy the beauty of the old ruins with their smoke, and steam, and Birmingham appearance. The Hills are distant about five miles inland. Myriads of minute insects are in great number; they fill my nose like snuff, and get into my eyes and ears, and torment me so much, I find it almost impossible to write; they fill my teacup, and absolutely are giving forth a vile odour from the numbers that have found death around the flame of the candle.
30th.—The early morning was delightful—the weather much cooler and more agreeable. Laid in fresh stores—found remarkably fine fowls and good yams—sailed at 4 P.M., lugāoed at 7, on a sandbank—here the insects are but few, and do not annoy me as they did last night. Crocodiles abound, and are showing themselves continually, swimming low in the water. We passed near this place a village full of a caste of people who live on crocodile flesh. My dāndīs say they understand it smells rank, and is very hard. Twice this evening I heard a shrill peculiar scream, and on remarking it to the men, they said it was the cry of the crocodile. Twenty-one miles above Rajmahāl and two miles below Sikrī-galī Hill and Point, says the “Calcutta Directory,” is the beautiful Mootee Jhurna waterfall; it is visible on the eastern side of the Hills. I neither saw nor visited it.
31st.—Anchored at sunset at Sikrī-galī—landed and walked to the bungalow. The French indigo planter had quitted the place; the house was uninhabited; had he been there, he would have exclaimed,
“Voilà Madame, qui arrive
Pour encore visiter mes tigres!”
Walked on a short distance to have a view of the Hills, and to recall the memory of the Hill-man and his terī (wife): saw some beautiful goats in the village, which the people refused to sell, although I bribed them high. Wood and charcoal was cheap and plentiful; nothing else was to be procured. A number of jackals were roaming and howling in the village. The point of Sikrī-galī is very picturesque from the river. The indigo factor’s bungalow would be an excellent shooting box. It is said the Jharna waterfall and the Himalaya mountains are visible at times from Rajmahāl; I have never seen either. Bears, tigers, rhinoceroses, leopards, hogs, deer of all kinds, abound here, and feathered game in the Hills. Steamers pass in ten days and a half in the dry season from Calcutta.