The cooking department being delayed by the ascent, we got no breakfast to-day until one o’clock, unless a drink of milk and a biscuit on arrival could be called by courtesy a breakfast.
August 9.—Descended from Lamieroo through a precipitous pass for about three kos and a half, to Kulchee, a tidy little village of fifteen huts, situated in an oasis of apricot and walnut-trees, the first we had encountered since leaving Cashmere.
The people here seemed particularly simple and happy among their waving corn-fields and wild fruit-trees, and they were most anxious to [[170]]supply us with apricots and milk, and whatever they could produce. The Gopa, or head-man of the village, could speak a little Hindostanee, besides being able to read and write his own language in two characters, and as he seemed unusually sharp and intelligent, I was very glad to have a chat with him while waiting for the commissariat to come up. The character most common on the inscribed stones, and one of those now in actual use, he told me was Romeeque; the other, the square character on the [[171]]stones, is obsolete, and is called Lantza;[5] while a third character, which was the one he was most conversant with, but which did not appear upon any of the stones, he called Tyeeque.
His explanation of the stones was, that at the last day a certain recording angel, whom he called Khurjidal, would pass through the land, and inspecting these mounds of inscribed stones, [[172]]would write down the names of all those who had contributed to the heap. What the inscription was he seemed unable clearly to explain, but believed it to refer in some manner to the Supreme Being. Whatever it was, all those who had contributed their share towards its dissemination, by adding stones to the mounds, were certain of future rewards, while those who had omitted to do so were as equally certain of punishment.[6]
This explanation of the difficulty caused me some qualms of conscience on account of the future prospects of the unfortunate writer whose [[173]]particular stone I had appropriated; but for fear the Gopa himself might be the sufferer, I thought it better not to confide my emotions to him, but to leave the case in the hands of Khurjidal.
Regarding the state of the people here, he told me that each house paid a tax of seven rupees per annum to the Maharajah. This, for the entire village, would only give 105 rupees per annum towards the enrichment of the Treasury.
The Lamas, who have no ground of their own, appear to be a further burden on the population. They are supplied gratuitously with food, and appear to be somewhat similar to the Hindoo Fukeer, devoting themselves to religion and remaining unmarried. They, however, are not so violent in their opinions, and are more conversable, to say nothing of being decidedly cleaner.
We breakfasted under the spreading walnuts, among an audience composed of the entire village, who seemed much edified and amused by our novel manners and customs. Some of our English possessions took their fancy immensely. A cut-glass lantern and the label of a bottle of cherry-brandy in particular, seemed to them the very essence of the rare and curious, and they [[174]]seemed never tired of admiring them. After breakfast we again took the road, and marched three kos to another little wooded settlement, called Nûrila, situated, like Kulchee, upon the Indus, or, as it is here called, the Attock. The noisy, dirty torrent, as it here appears, however, gives little promise of becoming, as it does in after life, one of the largest of the stately Indian rivers.