My memory was a source of woe to the scorpion at Bhadráj; they surrounded him with a circle of fire; as the heat annoyed him he strove to get over the circle, but the burning charcoal drove him back; at last, mad with pain, he drove his sting into his own back; a drop of milk-white fluid was on the sting, and was left on the spot which he struck; immediately afterwards the scorpion died: Mr. R⸺ saw him strike the sting into his own back. When it was over we felt a little ashamed of our scientific cruelty, and buried the scorpion with all due honour below the ashes that had consumed him: a burnt sacrifice to science. In a note in “the Giaour,” the idea is mentioned as an error, of the scorpion’s committing suicide, but I was one of the witnesses to the fact.
29th.—Saw a fine mule for sale for £10, and bought him immediately for my own riding; mules are generally very safe on these dangerous roads. Also purchased two smaller ones for the estate for £9, water-bags and all. A man brought a number of fine fat Karral sheep, fit for table, from the interior, where they are fattened on acorns; I purchased four of them for twenty-four rupees eight ānās; the mutton is delicious; they have short tails and large horns, are very strong, and their fleeces, long and warm, are suited to their own hill climate.
30th.—The weather constantly fine, cool, and pleasant; we have a little fire lighted merely in the morning and evening. Purchased Sancho, a handsome retriever, from a private in the Lancers.
May 1st.—My friend Mrs. B⸺ and her four children have arrived; I invited them to come and stay with me; the children are most interesting,—nevertheless, their noise drives me half crazy; my life has been so perfectly quiet and solitary of late, the change makes my head ache.
Sunday, 6th.—Unable to go to church at Mussoorī; constant rain, very cold and chilly; the clouds are hanging over the mountains in white heavy masses, or drifting on this powerful wind up the valleys, or rather between the ridges of the Hills. I went into the verandah, to see if the Italian greyhounds were warmly housed, and could not help exclaiming, “How delicious is this coldness in the Hills!—it is just as wet, windy, and wretched as in England:” thus mingling the recollected misery of a wet, raw day in England, and the delight of a cold day in India. The boys are calling me to have a game of marbles with little apples,—the small sweet apples we get from Meerut.
My mule, who has been christened Don Pedro, carries me beautifully; we canter and trot up and down hill at an excellent pace; he has but one fault,—a dangerous one in the Hills,—that of shying; he would be worth two hundred rupees if he were not timid.
The conical form of The Hills is their great peculiarity; in order to gain sufficient level ground, on which to build the house at Bhadráj, it was necessary to cut off the top of the hill,—a work of labour and expense. A khud is a valley between two hills, which is generally very narrow, so much so, that a horse might leap across the bottom of several of the khuds I have seen near Landowr. The building of the house at Cloud End has proceeded at a great rate; five hundred Hill-coolies are constantly employed under the eye of an European, to keep them at their work. The house has been roofed in, and my relative has come up from Meerut, to have the slates put on after some peculiar hikmat (fashion) of his own.
7th.—The storm of yesterday rendered the air so pure and clear, it was most refreshing; I mounted my mule, and went to spend the day at Bhadráj. The Snowy Ranges were distinct and beautiful, the wild flowers lovely on every rock; the ride was one of great enjoyment. The wild notes of the Hill birds were heard in every direction, and the cuckoo was sending forth its old familiar note. On my arrival I found one of the ponies at the estate had been killed by a fall over the precipice when bringing up water from the khud.
14th.—Capt. S⸺ says, a very severe earthquake was felt at his estate during the storm the other night: he was asleep in the outer building, and was awakened by the shock, which threw down the gable end of it; fortunately, the large stones fell outwards, or he would have been killed on his bed; he ran out, and took refuge in the little tent. The shock also split open the stone wall of the mule-shed. Although his estate is only six miles off, we did not feel the earthquake at Landowr.
18th.—My fair friend and myself having been invited to a pic-nic at a waterfall, about two thousand feet below Landowr, we started on our gūnths at 5 A.M.; the tents, servants, and provisions had gone on the day before; none of us knew the way, but we proceeded, after quitting the road, by a footpath that led up and down the steepest hills; it was scarcely possible for the gūnths to go over it. At 8 A.M. we arrived, completely tired, and found an excellent breakfast ready. The waterfall roared in the khud below, and amidst the trees we caught glimpses of the mountain torrent chafing and rushing along. After breakfast the gentlemen went out to explore the path to the waterfall; we soon grew too impatient to await their return, and followed them.