I hear that the new system for India is to throw open Addiscombe and Haileybury to public competition; that this public competition will be fair and open, and free from jobbery and patronage, I suppose no sane person in the 19th century, acquainted with public morals and public bodies, would believe for an instant. The change may, however, facilitate admission into the service to well-crammed boys. There are, I doubt not, many clever and able men who would in a year put any boy with tolerable abilities into a state of intellectual coma, which would enable him to write out examination papers by the dozen, and pass a triumphant examination in paper-military affairs. I am not called upon to state how much of it would avail in the hour of strife and danger. India is, par excellence, the country for poor men who have hard constitutions and strong stomachs. I fear you will add, when you have read thus far, that it is not favorable to charity, or to the goodness which, under the pious wish to think no evil, gives every one credit for everything, and believes that words mean what they appear to express, and that language conveys some idea of the thoughts of the speaker!... It is very trying that I cannot be with Susie at Murree; but with a people such as these it is not safe to be absent, lest the volcano should break out afresh. Since I began this sheet a dust-storm has covered everything on my table completely with sand. My pen is clogged, and my inkstand choked, and my eyes full of dust! What am I to do? Oh, the pleasures of the tented field in August in the valley of Peshawur! It has been very hot indeed, lately. We have barely in our huts had the thermometer under 100°, and a very steamy, stewy heat it is, into the bargain.
Murree, Sept. 14th, 1853.
I am enjoying a little holiday from arms and cutchery up in the cool here with Susie. Murree is not more than 140 miles from Peshawur. You say that you do not know "what I mean by hills in my part of India." This is owing to the badness of the maps. The fact is, that the whole of the upper part of the country watered by the five rivers is mountainous. The Himalaya extends from the eastern frontiers of India to Affghanistan, where it joins the "Hindoo Koosh," or Caucasus. If you draw a line from Peshawur, through Rawul Pindee, to Simla or Subathoo, or any place marked on the maps thereabouts, you may assume that all to the north of that line is mountain country. Another chain runs from Peshawur, down the right bank of the Indus to the sea. At Attok the mountains close in upon the river, or more correctly speaking, the river emerges from the mountains, and the higher ranges end there. The Peshawur valley is a wide open plain, lying on the banks of the Cabul River, about sixty miles long by forty broad, encircled by mountains, some of them covered with snow for eight or nine months of the year. Euzofzai is the northeastern portion of this valley, embraced between the Cabul River and the Indus. Half of Euzofzai (the "abode of the children of Joseph") is mountain, but we only hold the level or plain part of it. Nevertheless, a large part of my little province is very hilly. In the northeast corner of Euzofzai, hanging over the Indus, is a vast lump of a hill, called "Mahabun" (or the "great forest"), thickly peopled on its slopes, and giving shelter to some 12,000 armed men, the bitterest bigots which even Islam can produce. The hill is about 7,800 feet above the level of the sea. This has been identified by the wise men with the Aornos of Arrian, and Alexander is supposed to have crossed the Indus at its foot. Whether he did so or not I am not "at liberty to mention," but it is certain that Nadir Shah, in one of his incursions into India, marched his host to the top of it, and encamped there. This gives color to the story that the Macedonian did the same. As in all ages, there are dominating points which are seized on by men of genius when engaged in the great game of war. The great principles of war seem to change as little as the natural features of the country. Well, you will see how a mountain range running "slantingdicularly" across the Upper Punjaub contains many nice mountain tops suited to Anglo-Saxon adventurers. If you can find Rawul Pindee on the maps, you may put your finger on Murree, about twenty-five miles, as the crow flies, to the northeast. You should get a map of the Punjaub, Cashmere, and Iskardo, published by Arrowsmith in 1847. George sent me two of them. They are the best published maps I have seen. As to the Euzofzai fever, that is, I am happy to say, now over. It was terrible while it lasted. Between the 1st March and the 15th June, 1853, 8,352 persons died out of a population of 53,500. It was very similar to typhus, but had some symptoms of yellow fever. It was confined to natives. It appeared to be contagious or infectious, but I am so entirely skeptical as to the existence of either contagion or infection in these Indian complaints, that I cannot bring myself to believe that the appearances were real.
Poor Colonel Mackison, the Commissioner at Peshawur, (the chief civil and political officer for the frontier), was stabbed, a few days ago, by a fanatic, while sitting in his veranda reading. The fellow was from Swât, and said he had heard that we were going to invade his country, and that he would try to stop it, and go to heaven as a martyr for the faith. Poor Mackison is still alive, but in a very precarious state, I fear. I hope this may induce Government to take strong measures with the hill-tribes.
He had soon to mourn the loss of a still more valued friend:—
Oct. 15th, 1853.
You will have been much shocked at hearing of poor dear Mr. Thomason's death.
It is an irreparable loss to his family and friends, but it will be even more felt in his public capacity. He had not been ill, but died from sheer debility and exhaustion, produced by overwork and application in the trying season just over. Had he gone to the hills, all would have been right. I cannot but think that he sacrificed himself as an example to others. You may imagine how much I have felt the loss of my earliest and best friend in India, to whom I was accustomed to detail all my proceedings, and whom I was wont to consult in every difficulty and doubt.
On the 2d November he wrote from Rawul Pindee to announce the birth of a daughter. He had been obliged previously to return to his duties; but, by riding hard all night, had been able to be with his wife at the time, and, after greeting the little stranger, had immediately to hasten back to his Guides on the frontier.