"Yours, sincerely,
"F. Currie."
The last line of Sir Frederick's letter was not lost on me, and to keep up my character for locomotion, I started at daybreak for Deenanuggur, finishing off my work en route, remained there the rest of the day to wind up matters, and add my surveying sketch to the large plan I had commenced beforehand, and hurried onwards this morning. You will perceive that I have crossed the Doâb, and am now writing on the banks of the Ravee, some sixty miles above Lahore. I marched twenty-four and a half miles with tent and baggage this morning, and hope to continue at that pace, with the difference of marching by night, the weather having suddenly become very hot indeed.
I am much interested in the thought of going to so new a place as Mooltan—new, that is to say, to Europeans, yet so important from position and commerce. The only drawback is the heat, which is notorious throughout Western India. I am not aware, however, that it is otherwise unhealthy.
As you may suppose, I am much gratified by the appointment, both for its own sake and also as evincing so very favorable and kindly a disposition toward myself on the part of the new potentate.
To his Sister.
Camp, March 29th, 1848.
Of incidents to amuse you I have not many to narrate, save the usual "moving" ones by "flood and field." On the 18th I was very nearly becoming a damp unpleasant corpse to celebrate my birthday. In attempting a ford, my horse sank up to the girths in a quicksand. I managed to extricate myself and, dry land being near, he got up without damage. Sending a man ahead, I tried again in another place. Here it was fair to the eye but false to the foot. Down he went again, this time in deeper water, and got me under him by struggling. However, I realized the old proverb, and escaped with a good ducking and a mouthful of my native element, rather gritty. Next I tried a camel, but the brute went down at the first stride. So giving it up in despair, I put on dry clothes, and then waded through the river.
Not content with one attempt on my existence, the horse gave me a violent kick the same evening when I went up to him to ask "How d'ye do." So I completed my year, in spite of myself, as it were.