6th.—At six A.M., when I quitted my tent to mount my horse, it was bitterly cold; the poor starving wretches had collected on the spot which my horses had quitted, and were picking up the grains of gram that had fallen from their nose-bags; others were shivering over a half-burned log of wood my people had lighted during the night. On the road I saw many animals dead from over-exertion and famine; carts overturned; at one place a palanquin garī had been run away with, the wheels had knocked down and passed over two camel drivers; one of the men was lying on the road-side senseless and dying.
On reaching the Stanhope, which had been laid half way for me, the horse gave some annoyance while being put into harness; when once in, away he went, pulling at a fearful rate, through roads half way up the leg in sand, full of great holes, and so crowded with elephants, camels, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, and all the camp followers, it was scarcely possible to pass through such a dense crowd; and in many places it was impossible to see beyond your horse’s head from the excessive dust. Imagine a camp of 11,000 men all marching on the road, and such a road!
Away rushed the horse in the Stanhope, and had not the harness been strong, and the reins English, it would have been all over with us. I saw a beautiful Persian kitten on an Arab’s shoulder; he was marching with a long string of camels carrying grapes, apples, dates, and Tusar cloth for sale from Cabul. Perched on each camel were one or two Persian cats. The pretty tortoise-shell kitten, with its remarkably long hair and bushy tail, caught my eye;—its colours were so brilliant. The Arab ran up to the Stanhope holding forth the kitten; we checked the impetuous horse for an instant, and I seized the pretty little creature; the check rendered the horse still more violent, away he sprang, and off he set at full speed through the encampment which we had just reached. The Arab thinking I had purposely stolen his kitten, ran after the buggy at full speed, shouting as he passed Lord Auckland’s tents, “Dohā’ī, dohā’ī, sāhib! dohā’ī, Lord sāhib!” “Mercy, mercy, sir! mercy, Governor-General!” The faster the horse rushed on, the faster followed the shouting Arab, until on arriving at my own tents, the former stopped of his own accord, and the breathless Arab came up. He asked ten rupees for his kitten, but at length, with well-feigned reluctance, accepted five, declaring it was worth twenty. “Who was ever before the happy possessor of a tortoise-shell Persian cat?” The man departed. Alas! for the wickedness of the world! Alas! for the Pilgrim! She has bought a cocky-olli-bird!
The cocky-olli-bird, although unknown to naturalists by that name, was formerly sold at Harrow by an old man to the boys, who were charmed with the brilliancy of its plumage,—purple, green, crimson, yellow, all the colours of the rainbow united in this beautiful bird; nor could the wily old fellow import them fast enough to supply the demand, until it was discovered they were painted sparrows!
ANCIENT HINDŪ RUIN AT KANAUJ.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس
The bright burnt sienna colour of the kitten is not tortoise-shell, she has been dyed with hinnā! her original colour was white, with black spots; however, she looks so pretty, she must be fresh dyed when her hair falls off; the hinnā is permanent for many months. The poor kitten has a violent cold, perhaps the effect of the operation of dyeing her: no doubt, after having applied the pounded menhdī, they wrapped her up in fresh castor-oil leaves, and bound her up in a handkerchief, after the fashion in which a native dyes his beard. Women often take cold from putting hinnā on their feet.
ANCIENT HINDŪ RUIN.
My tents were pitched near Merunkee Sarā’e: in the evening, as I was riding into Kanauj, at the tomb of Bala Pīr, I met Captain C⸺ on an elephant, and accompanied him to see the remains of a most ancient Hindū temple. Of all the ruins I have seen this appears to me the most remarkable and the most ancient: the pillars are composed of two long roughly-hewn stones, placed one upon the other, and joined by a tenon and mortise; no cement of any sort appears to have been used. The style of the building is most primitive, and there is a little carving—and but a little—on some of the stones; the structure is rapidly falling into decay. I regret exceedingly I cannot remember the marvellous stories that were related to me connected with this ruin and its inhabitants.