We descended into the khud, and I was amusing myself jumping from rock to rock, and thus passing up the centre of the brawling mountain stream, aided by my long paharī pole of rous wood, and looking for the picturesque, when my fair friend, attempting to follow me, fell from the rocks into the water,—and very picturesque and very Undine-like she looked in the stream! We returned to the tents to have her garments dried in the sun, and while the poor little lady was doing penance, I wandered down the stream, of which the various waterfalls are beautiful; and, although there was a burning sun on the top of the Hills, down below, by the water, it was luxuriously cool. The path I took was straight down the torrent; I wandered alone for three hours, refreshing myself with wild strawberries, barberries, raspberries, and various other Hill fruits that hung around the stream on every side. The flowers were beautiful, the wild ferns luxuriant, the noise of the torrent most agreeable,—in fact, all was charming. On my return, I found the party at the foot of a beautiful waterfall, eighty feet in height; the spot was lovely, it was overhung with trees, from the topmost boughs of which gigantic climbers were pendant. How gaily did we partake of excellent wine and good fare on that delicious spot! It was nearly sunset ere we mounted our gūnths, and took the path through the village of Būttah.
This village is inhabited by Hill people; I saw a very good-looking woman at a cottage door, in a very picturesque dress, and wished to go and speak to her, but was deterred from so doing, as the Hill-men appeared to dislike the gentlemen passing near the village: I must go alone some day, and see her again. By mistake we lost the path, and got into paddy fields, where we were obliged to dismount, and take the ponies down the most dangerous places. My fair companion was on a mare from the plains; we were obliged to tie a rope to the animal, and leap her down those places over which the ponies scrambled; we went down the dry bed of a torrent for some distance, and it was most curious to see how the gūnths got over and down the rocks. Walking fatigued me to excess; I mounted my gūnth, and rode up some frightful places, up the bed of a small torrent, where there was no path; the gūnth clambered up the rocks in excellent style. Presently Mrs. B⸺ thought she would do the same; she had not been on the mare ten minutes when I heard a cry, “The mem sāhiba has fallen into the khud!” Her horse had refused to clamber up a rocky ascent, I suppose she checked him, he swerved round, and fell down the khud; fortunately he fell on his right side, therefore her limbs were above him, and they slipped down together, the horse lying on his side, until, by the happiest chance, his downward course was stopped by a tree. The sā’īses ran down, pulled her off, and brought her up the Hill; afterwards they got the horse up again in safety. But for the tree, the lady and her steed would have been dashed to pieces; she was bruised, but not much hurt. Her scream alarmed me,—I thought it was all over. We returned completely tired; but the day had been one of great delight, the scenery lovely, and the air delicious.
From Landowr, looking towards Hurdwar, the isolated Hill of Kalunga or Nālāpanī, with its table-land and Fortress on the highest extremity, is visible. When the steady coolness and bravery of the Ghoorkas, united with insurmountable obstacles, compelled our troops to fall back, General Gillespie determined to carry the place; and, at the head of three companies of the 53rd Regiment, reached a spot within thirty yards of a wicket defended by a gun; there, as he was cheering the men,—waving his hat in one hand, and his sword in the other, he was shot through the heart, and fell dead on the spot. Thus died as brave and reckless a cavalier as ever put spur on heel; his sword is one of the interesting relics of my museum. I never meet a hardy, active little Ghoorka, with a countenance like a Tartar, and his kookree at his side, but I feel respect for him, remembering the defence of Kalunga. The women showed as much bravery as the men; showers of arrows and stones were discharged at the enemy: the women threw the stones dexterously,—severe wounds were inflicted by them; and they undauntedly exposed themselves to the fire of the enemy; they acted with the natural courage inherent in us all, never having been taught that it was pretty and interesting to be sweet, timid creatures! Perhaps, after all, the noble conduct of these Ghoorka women may be traced to a reason given by a modern European author, who covertly asserts, that women, not having souls as men have, are guided in all their actions by instinct! The Hindūs are equally complimentary, and assert,—“A woman cannot be kept in due subjection, either by gifts, or kindness, or correct conduct, or the greatest services, or the laws of morality, or by the terror of punishment,—for she cannot discriminate between good and evil!”
The kookree is a semicircular, long, heavy knife, always carried by the Ghoorkas; sometimes the sheath is curiously embroidered with strips from the quill of the peacock’s feather: two small crooked knives are generally in the same sheath. The kookree is used for war as well as for all domestic purposes.
The sword used by the Ghoorka officers called a “korah,” or a “bughalee,” is also used by the executioners in China for decapitation, with a back-handed drawing cut.
The sling used by Hill-men is made of a thick long cord of worsted, having a little breadth in the centre, in which, having placed the stone, they whisk the sling round, and launch it. Specimens of all these weapons I brought from the Hills. The sling above described was doubtless used by the Ghoorka women at Kalunga.
22nd.—We mounted our gūnths so early we were at Cloud End by 7 A.M. to breakfast. Ben Oge, the hill adjoining, is the highest point at Mussoorī. The day was bright and clear. Captain S⸺ asked us to ride to the summit; he accompanied us on foot. The view from the top of Ben Oge was beautiful: the Snowy Ranges were so clear and distinct, you could see every peak. I thought of Captain Skinner’s journal as I looked at the peaks of Jumnotrī, the source of the Jumna, and traced the river as it wound below through the khuds at the foot of the mountains, its course doubling like a hare. Beyond was the Peak of Gangotrí, from which the Ganges rises. I longed to march into the interior, to behold the grandeur of the scenery of the Himalaya. Ben Oge is quite treeless at the summit, but the ground was covered with wild lavender, thyme, and various mountain flowers of great beauty, while numberless butterflies flitted over them. My relative found the breeze very chilly, but the sun was so hot it made my head spin; we returned to his house: he was seized with cholera, from the heat of his body being suddenly checked by the cold air, and the sun pouring on his head; he was very ill, and in great pain for two hours. We returned home, determined not to ascend another hill during the heat of the day.
26th.—My little widow and I were out riding at seven in the morning; on our return we were surprised to find a very severe earthquake had been experienced at Landowr and Mussoorī, which had frightened all the people; there were three distinct shocks. We on our gūnths did not feel the shocks; there are but few hours in the day in which an earthquake could catch us off our ponies.
I have never put on a bonnet since I came to the Hills; like the steeds in the “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” which “stood saddled in stable day and night,” so am I saddled in my hat and riding-habit, always on my pony; my visits are made on horseback. I have a jampan, (a sort of chair, with poles, carried by Hill-men,) but this is a disagreeable kind of conveyance; and I like the independence of my pony much better. The earthquake was charming; we seem to have all the eccentricities of nature around us. A Landowr Ætna or Vesuvius would figure well in my journal, could we be lucky enough to discover a burning mountain in these Snowy Regions.
28th.—I gave a pic-nic party by the side of a mountain stream, in a deep khud at Jerrīpānī: the barberries were quite ripe, in shape much thicker than the English, in colour black, very good in taste. The wild dog-rose hung its clusters of white flowers from almost every tree in the richest profusion;—it is a beautiful climber.