June 1st.—The weather is hot during the middle of the day, the thermometer 70°; one cannot go out with comfort, unless the day be cloudy or stormy; it is very hot for the Hills.
5th.—A very hot day;—the Hills covered with a fog-like smoke, occasioned by the burning of the jangal in the valley below; hot and smoky air comes up in volumes. Mrs. M⸺ was riding this evening, when a leopard seized her spaniel, which was not many yards in front of her pony; the shouts of the party alarmed the animal, and he let the dog drop; however, the poor spaniel died of his wounds. Some officers laid wait for the leopard, and shot it; I saw it, coming up the Hill, fastened on a bamboo, to be stuffed and prepared with arsenical soap.
7th.—Mr. D⸺ invited us to a pic-nic at Bhadráj; we selected a spot under a fine oak tree on the estate at Cloud End; numberless amusements were provided for us: a champagne tiffin was pleasant under the old oak tree; and a dinner, rich and rare, finished the amusements of the day. When the moon arose we mounted our gūnths; and, as the road lay through the dark shade of trees, and on the edge of precipices, we determined to be careful, and agreed to muster three times on our journey of six miles, to see that none of the party had fallen into the khud. Away we cantered through the beautiful moonlight, almost racing our ponies. At the last muster, Mr. H⸺ was thrown by his mule; but as he was scarcely hurt, it was only a laughing matter. We reached home at half-past eleven, after a beautiful ride and a pleasant day.
10th.—One of the officers of the Buffs met a bear the other day, and was glad to get off unhugged; bears as well as leopards abound in the Hills. I must not take my pet dog out riding with me; at this time of the year wild beasts are numerous, and render it dangerous.
We have a great number of visitors every day in the Hills; people have nothing to do but to run about calling and amusing themselves. A third earthquake has taken place; but, as usual, I on my gūnth was unconscious of the quaking of the earth. A storm of thunder, lightning, and hail has cooled the air, and it is very pleasant weather. The Hills look so beautiful at night, when they are on fire; the fire never spreads, but runs up to the top of the Hill; they fire them below in several places at once, to burn the old long grass, and make way for the new to sprout up.
11th.—A letter from Allahabad tells me, a most severe storm took place there on the third of this month,—more severe than the one in which the Seagull was wrecked; it only lasted an hour. It blew down one of the verandahs of our house, unroofed the cow-house, the meat-house, the wild-duck-house, the sheep-house, &c.: the repairs will not cost us less than seven hundred rupees (£70).
13th.—Accompanied Mr. R⸺ to see the Botanical Garden, which is small, but interesting: I ate cherries from Cashmere, saw a very fine Hill lily from the interior, and gathered many beautiful flowers. Some peaches, from the Dhoon valley, very large and fine, like English peaches, were sent me to-day.
18th.—Our party being engaged to dine at Cloud End to-day, under the old oak tree, we got up at 6 A.M., when we found the Hills covered with thick white clouds from the bottom of the khuds to their summits; the clouds were so thick, and we were so completely in the midst of them, you could not see beyond the verandah; the thunder rolled, and the sheeted lightning flashed. After a while the wind blew off the clouds, and the Hills re-appeared, but only for a few moments, when fresh clouds rolled up from the valley, and every thing was again hidden in the white foggy cloud. The rain fell heavily, straight down from the heavens: I trust the rains have set in this day; without them the famine, and the sickness which is raging in the plains below, will continue.
This specimen of what the rains will prove has quite horrified my fair friend, and she is wishing herself back again at Meerut. I—who am fond of storm and tempest—have enjoyed the day; I like these hurly-burly scenes; too frequent repetition might perhaps render them annoying, and the dampness might be productive of rheumatism. Thermometer 1 P.M. 69°.