“I’ll thank you for your name, Sir.”
Happiness of being alive—March from Meerut to Delhi—Method of Stealing a Camel—Delhi—The Church—Monument erected to Wm. Frazer, Esq., B.C.S.—The Canal of Paradise—Mimic Warfare—Tomb of Humaioon—Fort of Feroze Shāh—Masjid of Zeenut al Nissa—Masjid of Roshan-ool-Dowla—Datisca Cannabina—Mimosa Scandens—Washing by Steam—The Kutub Minār—Ancient Colonnades—Kutub kā Lāt—Unfinished Minār.
1838, Feb.—With the Neapolitan saying, “Vedi Napoli, e poi mori,” I beg leave to differ entirely, and would rather offer this advice,—“See the Tājmahal, and then—see the Ruins of Delhi.” How much there is to delight the eye in this bright, this beautiful world! Roaming about with a good tent and a good Arab, one might be happy for ever in India: a man might possibly enjoy this sort of life more than a woman; he has his dog, his gun, and his beaters, with an open country to shoot over, and is not annoyed with—“I’ll thank you for your name, Sir.” I have a pencil instead of a gun, and believe it affords me satisfaction equal, if not greater than the sportsman derives from his Manton.
On my return from the theatre I sought my charpāī, and slept—Oh, how soundly!—was dressed, and on my horse by 6 A.M., having enjoyed four hours and a half of perfect rest. “Sleep is the repose of the soul[25].” I awoke from my slumber perfectly refreshed, and my little soul was soon cantering away on the back of an Arab, enjoying the pure, cool, morning breeze. Oh! the pleasure of vagabondizing over India!
16th.—We rode part of the distance, and drove the remainder of the march, sixteen miles; found the tents ready, and the khidmatgārs on the look out. Took a breakfast such as hungry people eat, and then retired to our respective tents. The fatigue was too much; the novel dropped from my hand, and my sleepy little soul sank to repose for some hours.
When the sun was nearly down, we roamed over the fields with the gentlemen and their guns, but found no game. Thus passed the day of the first march on the road to Delhi at Begamabad.
17th.—Arrived early at Furrudnagar, another long distance; a high wind, clouds of dust, and a disagreeable day. During the night the servants were robbed of all their brass lotas and cooking utensils. A thief crept up to my camels, that were picketed just in front of the tent, selected the finest, cut the rope and strings from his neck; then, having fastened a very long thin rope to the animal, away crept the thief. Having got to the end of the line, the thief gave the string a pull, and continued doing so until he rendered the camel uneasy; the animal got up,—another pull—he turned his head, another—and he quietly followed the twitching of the cord that the thief held; who succeeded in separating him from the other camels, and got him some twenty yards from the tent; just at this moment the sentry observed the camel quietly departing, he gave the alarm, the thief fled, and the animal was brought back to the camp;—a few yards more the thief would have been on his back, and we should have lost the camel.
Palace and Fort of Delhi.