“The two that charged me were making a rush to escape, and were going along a narrow footpath; by jumping aside, I disappeared into the jungle growing below me on the face of the hill.
“It is morning, and I am drinking tea; and an instant ago the shock of an earthquake shook the table at which I am sitting, making my teacup and saucer rattle together like castanets. I was in the act of putting my pen on the paper when our hill began shaking, and then you would have had letters contorted by earthquake,—rather an out-of-the-way fact in familiar correspondence. I hope we are not to have three shocks complete, and according to the degrees of comparison; though such is said to be the custom of our Mother Earth. Far be it from me, who hold her in mythological reverence, to wish that she should forego any pet habits on my account; the only condition I pray for is the standing of the house I am in.
“The tiger-killers (bhagmar) are a strange set of people; the trade, like all trades in this country, descends from father to son, and is, as far as I can compute, a very indifferent livelihood. Say that a set of men get twenty heads during the year (this is nearly twice the common average), the reward for this number is one hundred rupees; which, divided by twelve and seven, gives each individual of the party one rupee three ānās a month. Seven were in the set to which my informant belonged, including, probably, three women. Two of the tiger-killers lately arrived have good marks from the gentlemen whose heads they traffic in; according to them all there is only one portion of their labours attended with danger, and that is, when seeking the tiger after the bow has been sprung. If the arrow lodges fairly in the side, the animal is found dead; should he be less fully hit, he is found, as they call it, in a state of drunkenness. They then approach him with hand-bows to finish him. This is the dangerous portion of their work. From the marks on one of these men, I should think the tiger must have been in a state of great weakness when he seized him. The different places in which he is scored show him to have been fairly in the tiger’s grip, and yet the amount of injury was small. The other has suffered more severely; and three men, they say, were killed outright during this year.
“This is the trade that men will take up for the chance of half an ānā a day! I do not think the Sadr ’Adālat people would enter the bhagmar department if their salaries were to be doubled. This shows that the work of the service could be done for four ānās a day, being three and a half ānās for the respectability. ‘Two bobs for the vartue, and a sice for the larning!’
“For the first time, I have visited the burying-ground. Your friend’s place of rest is more remarkable than solemn. A small circular enclosure of upright slips of bamboo, precisely similar to the defence of a young tree, would seem to indicate to the traveller, the existence in these savage regions of a race believing in a vegetable resurrection.”
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE FAMINE AT KANAUJ.
“HEALTH ALONE IS EQUAL TO A THOUSAND BLESSINGS[21].”
Partiality of the Natives for English Guns—Solitary Confinement—The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī—Bad Omens—A Slight Mistake—Bhūsā—The Padshah Begam and Moona-jah—The Bāiza Bā’ī visits a Steamer—Arrival of Lord Auckland—Visit of the Governor-General and the Hon. the Misses Eden to her Highness the ex-Queen of Gwalior—A March up the Country—The Camp at Fathīpūr—The Line of March—Death of the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī—The Heir-apparent of Oude gives a Breakfast to the Governor-General—H. R. H. Prince Henry of Orange and the Misses Eden visit Lucnow—Resignation of Sir Charles Metcalfe—Chobīpūr—Thieves—Urowl—The Famine—The Pilgrim buys a Cocky-olli Bird—Merunkee Sarā’e—Ancient Hindū Ruin at Kanauj—Famine in the Bazār—Interment of Mahadēo and Pārvatī—The Legend of Kanauj.
1837, Aug.—A gentleman who had been paying us a visit quitted us for Agra just before his baggage boat arrived, in which were two immense German dogs, one striped like a tiger,—most warlike animals; they eyed me fiercely, and pulled impatiently on their chains when brought into the verandah; they will be good guards at night, but their arrival at Agra will be a little too late;—like locking the door when the steed has been stolen. Mr. H⸺ went out to dinner, and did not return home that night: some thieves took out a pane of glass, opened the door, carried off his two gun-cases and a writing-desk. A short distance from the house they broke open the cases, which they threw away, and made off with the guns, a gold watch, three seals, and a guard-chain. No traces have been discovered of the thieves, and our friend must resign himself to the loss, with the comfort of remembering that I told him several times he would lose his guns, unless he locked them up in some heavy, unwieldy chest, that could not readily be carried away.