An experimental station for troops had some few years previously been established at Sinchal, situated on a mountain spur about a thousand feet higher than Darjeeling itself. Thither I went in course of duty, but only to learn how hateful the place was to officers and men quartered there, isolated, and for the most part concealed in cloud or mist as it was, the atmosphere damp, cold, and chilly. That the experiment was a failure was evident, but some time had yet to elapse before it was so acknowledged officially, and abandoned.
Situated in a deep valley, ten or twelve miles from Darjeeling, and at a level of four thousand feet below that station, are the mineral wells of Nunsook; the intervening spurs and ranges for the most part under cultivation with tea, coffee, or cinchona. Between us and the wells the Rungnoo River rushed in curling foam along its rocky bed, leaping as it went, as a cascade of considerable height and volume. Crossing that stream by a wooden bridge, then ascending among the rocks to a little distance, we reached the object of our journey. So deep and narrow is the mountain rent in which the chalybeate spring issues from the rock, that sunlight reaches it during no more than two hours daily. In its immediate neighbourhood was a hut in which a few British soldiers were accommodated, also “experimentally” to test the beneficial qualities of the spring. No wonder that they wished themselves with their regiment, or anywhere except at the well of Nunsook.
Another excursion was to the valley of the Rungeet River, some fourteen miles distant from Darjeeling, and forming the boundary between British India and Sikkim. The descent is steep; as we proceeded we met numbers of hillmen toiling upwards, bearing heavy loads in kalbas or baskets upon their backs—women were similarly engaged—the goods so carried consisting in a great part of borax, spices, and other “fragrant” substances, including asafœtida,—some of the people so fair that a rosy tint was on their faces. As we descended into the deep and narrow valley the snowy range, at first so prominent an object, became lost to view, precipices shut us in on either side, trees of great size rising from ledges or projecting from crevices. The Rungeet rushed as a large green-coloured stream along its rugged bed, at short intervals curling in white foam as it eddied around rocks or leaped in cascades over ledges; at a short distance from where we now were it joins the Rungnoo, the united stream so formed being the Teesta, which finally discharges itself into the Brahmapootra. Crossing the Rungeet by what seemed a very frail and unsteady bridge of cane,[244] we arrived in Sikkim, the span of the construction by which we did so being two hundred feet, the roaring torrent rushing beneath us. Such was the character of one part of the sphere in which in 1861 military operations had to be conducted against that region, including the transport of guns and supplies.
The return journey from Darjeeling was in some respects little less unpleasant than that to it had been. Arrived at Raneegunge, it became necessary to proceed towards the station of Hazarabagh, and for that purpose to take “garry” along some part of the Grand Trunk Road, by which in 1859 I had marched with the 10th Foot when en route for England. In the course of that journey crowds of pilgrims were encountered, each bearing upon his forehead the distinctive mark of the Hindoo sect to which he belonged, and carrying the pilgrim’s gourd so familiar to us in mediæval pictures; all were devout in aspect and manner; some performing penance by crawling on hands and knees—a mode of progression by which the distance daily got over by them was said to be about one mile. And yet the majority of them had come from Ajudiah (Fyzabad), and were on their way to Juggurnath.
Two days thereafter I traversed a flight of locusts. Seen from a distance the mass looked somewhat like a snow shower in a clear sunshiny day, the apparent breadth of the flight over a mile, its length six or eight; the road and bare soil on either side completely covered by those that had fallen or alighted; the sound made by those still on the wing distinct and rustling. The conditions alluded to in this and the preceding paragraph illustrate those which existed while railways were in their early stages.
The arrival of my beloved wife on December 13 was an event to be chronicled, though for the time being a boarding-house was the substitute for the home to which I could take her. Like so many other ladies similarly situated, she had to place her children at school as best she could, and then take leave of them to join her husband in India. The necessity of so parting with one’s children is one of the greatest drawbacks of service in India, or indeed anywhere in the tropics; it is lamented by all who are affected by it, and by none more than by ourselves. And yet it is unavoidable. Various instances illustrative of unsatisfactory results arising out of this necessity occur to the mind of most men of experience, not the least being that sons and daughters are thrown more or less at haphazard upon those whose method and manner of training is destined to determine the style of their own lives and the relations in which they are to stand with their parents.
The somewhat sudden death of Lord Elgin, while on tour, was followed by very general expression of sympathy; among those who had been associated with him in China, and so had opportunities of estimating his amiable and upright character, the sentiment was one of regret and esteem. But in India, as elsewhere—le Roi est mort; Vive le Roi. Sir John Lawrence arrived from England ere many weeks were over; was received by a guard of honor; duly sworn in, and matters official proceeded in their ordinary course.
For the first time, and as an experiment, an Agricultural Exhibition was organized and took place. The variety of animals brought from all parts of British India was great; so was that of native contributors and visitors; but there was reason to believe that lively interest on the part of the latter was sadly lacking; they thought of the entire proceeding in the light of a mere tomashah, or “hubbub,” and nothing more.
In the further north,—namely, on the Sittana frontier,—the “rising” among some tribes of that region had just been suppressed; that favourable end attained in part by means of a military expedition, in part by persuasion, otherwise diplomacy.
Experience had long taught residents in Lower Bengal that the period of early spring is that when cholera is most to be dreaded, alike in respect to the suddenness of its attack and its fatality. The 55th Regiment, recently arrived and temporarily encamped at Raneegunge, became somewhat severely attacked by that scourge. Various instances of sudden death occurred from the same cause among old Calcutta residents, and the health of others began to droop; among them my wife.