Military Service and Adventures in the Far East: Vol. 1 (of 2) / Including Sketches of the Campaigns Against the Afghans in 1839, and the Sikhs in 1845-6.

"A thing
O'er which the raven flaps her fun'ral wing."

It is a strange sensation that interview which we are constrained to hold with death; yet, with all the imaginary terrors in which he is clad, the brave man readily meets him face to face. That those only who are, morally speaking, prepared to die, fear not death, is too wild a theory to be maintained: for many of us have seen the hardened malefactor advance, with unfaltering step and fearless aspect, to the scaffold, while in the ranks of the timid have been numbered some of the best of mankind.

And my fellow-countrymen here, who have, at least, been educated in the constant hearing of the word of God—are they more fitted to die than those miserable heathens were, whose carcases are now tainting the atmosphere? Let those who are more competent to judge of such matters decide. We, who, according to the declaration of our divines and the boast of government, are sent out to retain possession of this vast country, and to exhibit to the benighted natives the benefits and example of Christianity, have performed the latter part of our ministry in a singular manner, unless it is to be effected by daily instances of blasphemy, drunkenness, and debauchery, that the natives of India are enabled to witness. And yet they have been inapt scholars, for we have failed signally in propagating amongst them the two former accomplishments, and I question much if they have excelled us in the latter. And yet let it not be imputed to us that we are the only, or the greatest, transgressors. Let the traveller who has wandered through the bazaars of Cairo, Bombay, Caubul, Delhi, or Canton, and marked the character and occupation of the Mussulman, Gheber, and idolator, compare them with the gin palaces, cafés, bull fights, and gardens or thoroughfares of London, Paris, Madrid, Vienna, and Naples, and exult (if candour will admit) in the moral advantages of civilized Europe. I ask him not to visit the palaces of the aristocracy, or the church and chapel; in the former he will gain no knowledge, and in the latter, perhaps, too much; for, of all sciences, theology has become the most abstruse; and he who can recognise the immaculate precepts of Jesus of Nazareth, amidst the fiery and relentless hostilities of modern sects, must be an unhappy man. For my own part, the nice distinctions of party in the early history of the church, the difficulty of deciding between the mighty and learned differences of the Christian fathers, and the inability to distinguish between the Homoosion and the Homouosion quite disheartened me, at the outset, in the study of divinity; and in modern days the fiery animosities of catholic and protestant, transubstantiation, predestination, the gown and surplice riot, and pulpit mendicity, drove me from the church portals to take refuge in the book.

But, after this peregrination of the globe, to return to India: is it by the example of the better-educated classes, and the stern and impartial dealing of justice, that the natives of the East are to form an estimate of our superior wisdom and excellence? If so, let them look to some in the high places of this land, and be staggered at the display of erudition, wisdom, and righteousness; and let them judge of our notions of rigorous justice from the policy which dictated the expedition from which we are now returning. Have we not marched into the kingdom of Caubul, and without any pretext or right, save the "lex fortioris," wrested the sceptre from the hands of one monarch, the favourite of his subjects, as far as any Afghan could be so, to transfer it to those of another, (and one avowedly of a tyrannous and execrable disposition,) after shedding the blood of those who stepped forward in defence of him whom they probably conceived to be their rightful sovereign? It can hardly be assumed that the desire of establishing legitimate rights led us romantically forth on the Caubul expedition; for the government of India held friendly intercourse with Dost Mahomed for many years, without questioning his sovereign rights, and only discovered how ill-used a man Shah Soojah had been, when Dost Mahomed showed a disinclination to enter into hostilities with those who were deemed to be averse to British influence.

I had just come to the above conclusion, when a tramping behind aroused me from my reverie; and starting up, I was agreeably surprised to find that all my camels and servants had walked safely into camp. I rolled myself in a cloak, and making a comfortable resting-place of the folds of canvas composing the fly of the tent, soon became insensible alike to the immoralities of mankind and the intentions of the Khyberees.

The morning sun, when I awoke, had burst brilliantly forth, even upon the desolate and gloomy mountains of the Khyber, trying, but in vain, to bid them look cheerful; and the night, contrary to all expectations, had passed without an alarm. In the afternoon, the second column, under General Thackwell, arrived at Ali Musjid; and orders were issued for our march out of the Khyber Pass the following morning. In consequence of the reports which had reached camp of the intention of the Khyberees to attack us, the two companies of sappers and miners formed our advanced guard, and the cavalry were disposed in single files on the flanks of the baggage, with a rallying-party from each squadron in rear, as a point of formation in case of a descent from the mountains.

We marched, at daybreak, along the rugged course of a torrent, which had now degenerated to a shallow, trickling stream. High, barren mountains beetled above and almost over our track; and frequently their bases approached so near to one another, that six could scarcely ride abreast. At every step, we expected to see our enemies make their appearance on the heights, from whence they might almost with impunity have done us any injury which their long rifles, or juzzails, were capable of inflicting; but, singularly enough, not an enemy was to be seen, and we passed unmolested through the rugged defile. At about six miles from the outlet, we encountered a large body of Sikh troops occupying the road, whilst detachments were posted above them on the heights. These belonged to the army of the frontier, stationed at Peshawur. With their national modesty, they failed not to inform us that they were our deliverers from the hands of the Khyberees; and loudly proclaimed, that without their co-operation, we never should have escaped from the jaws of the Khyber Pass. Nevertheless, these heroes had taken the precaution of not advancing into the most arduous part of the defile; and previously to the British advance into Afghanistan, they had not been much acquainted with the geography of these mountains.

Towards the exit of the Pass, the mountains, though loftier and nearly as abrupt, recede considerably from one another. On emerging from them, we entered an extensive plain, and encamped near the fort of Futtehghur, which was lately built by Runjeet Singh as a frontier position. Near its walls, a long line of dusky tents marked the station of the Peshawur forces. Our lines were soon overrun by swarms of inquisitive Sikh warriors, mounted on lean, weedy horses, and carrying lances and beards of nearly equal length.

We marched early the following morning. The ground we quitted was soon occupied by the rear column, which also passed unobstructed through the defile with the state-prisoners.

The Sikhs raised a yell of execration and abuse at the sight of Hadji Khan; but he, turning in his saddle with a smile of contempt, exclaimed—

"Yelp on, ye dastardly curs—it was not your prowess which made me a captive! Many a time, at the head of a few brave Afghan followers, have I made ye sing a different song; and, with Allah's help, I trust I may live to do so again!"

On the morning of the 7th of November, we crossed the rich valley of Peshawur, and approached the city, having bidden adieu to the rocks and deserts of Afghanistan without a single regret, and with the fervent hope of never revisiting the realms of our ally, Shah Soojah.

CHAPTER X.

PESHAWUR—SKIRMISHES WITH THE KHYBEREES ACROSS THE INDUS—MANIKYALA—THE PASSAGE OF THE JHELUM.

The approaches to the city from the north-east are commanded by a large fort, recently completed by the assistance of some French officers, and under the eye of General Avitabilè.

The fort is surrounded by a dry ditch, and constructed on modern principles of fortification, but placed in such convenient proximity to the city, as to obviate the necessity of opening trenches and labouring at parallels in case of a siege. Passing immediately under this stronghold, we wound along the outside of the low mud-walls which surround Peshawur, and encamped on its Eastern front. The city seemed of enormous extent, and contained, as we were told, more than twelve thousand houses within its walls; but certainly the greater part of them were better adapted for pigsties than dwelling-houses.

The government of this district was in the hands of General Avitabilè, an Italian officer, who had served for a long time under Runjeet Singh, and had been raised by him to distinction and wealth. His government, although severe, was generally allowed to have kept the savage neighbours of the adjacent mountains in more terror and subjection than any former governor was enabled to attain. According to Runjeet's code, no capital punishment was inflicted on the Sikhs by law; but this was in no way applicable to the marauders dwelling in the hills which border Peshawur, on whom, as well as over the Mussulman population of Peshawur, the governor occasionally endeavoured to make up for Runjeet's misplaced leniency. Numerous examples of punishment were presented to our view near the city walls on the high palm-trees, to which were appended strings of such acorns as Trois Echelles and Petit Andrè loved to adorn the oaks of Plessis les Tours with in the days of Louis Onze. On every side of the city, were seen well-furnished gibbets, or frail and wasted relics of humanity, strung upon beams, nailed between the blighted palms. Those who had recently been promoted to their exalted situations were favourites with the kites and vultures, whose discordant screams of health and prosperity to Governor Avitabilè, whilst circling round their hideous repast, were gloomily answered by the rattling and clatter of some well-picked skeletons, as they swung to and fro in the evening blast. Disgusting as these objects seemed, we must nevertheless, according to the opinion and quotation of an American traveller, hail them as testimonies of civilization. If an appeal to the worst passions of mankind be a test of civilization, Mr. Willis is in the right; but I confess I have felt much more gratified in seeing a rude and uneducated Hindoo turn with loathing from the execution of a criminal about to be blown from a cannon than I have at the exhibition of thousands of my countrymen struggling for places, and paying high prices for seats, to witness the protracted, dying struggles of a malefactor and fellow-sinner.

In Afghanistan, no sooner is the light applied to the touchhole of the cannon,[54] than the limbs of the victims are distributed to the winds of heaven; but in England, in Christian England, where societies for preventing cruelty to animals have been established, and rewards offered for the speediest method of ending the sufferings of beasts, the agonies and struggles of a fellow-creature, whilst undergoing a death, (which, according to the letter of the law, is not expected to be instantaneous,[55]) are deemed a fit subject for the entertainment of the multitude; for it is notorious that Englishmen prefer attending an execution to any other resort of public amusement. Yet this disgusting spectacle, this barbarous relic of despotic authority, is to be exhibited and justified solely on the plea of example. I cannot bring myself to believe that one solitary mortal was ever deterred from committing a murder by the fact of his having witnessed a public execution; whereas the very notoriety has been known to excite men to earn the vile publicity.

At Peshawur, the systematic method of suspension by the neck was not universally adopted, for the fancy of the executioner was occasionally shown by a varied figure of victims suspended alternately by the head and heels. At Peshawur, also, has been revived the nearly obsolete, but classical, punishment of skinning alive. The executioner begins this operation by raising the skin on the soles of the feet, which is then torn in strips upwards, and the wretched creature is left vainly to wish for the relief which death sometimes does not afford within two hours of the infliction.

Cutting off the arms and legs, and steeping the stumps in hot oil, putting out the eyes, or docking the ears of the culprits, are the milder corrections for minor delinquencies.

I shall not attempt to deny that the daring atrocities which have been perpetrated require to be restrained with a strong hand, and punished with death, but the protraction of suffering cannot, I think, be exculpated. If life must be taken, let it be done without parade or procession, and, above all, let it be instantaneous.

On the evening of our arrival, the governor entertained the officers of the first column with a banquet and fête, at his palace in Peshawur. The edifice and gardens glittered with brilliant illuminations, and a splendid display of fireworks was the prelude to the banquet. The table groaned under a weight of food which far surpassed in quantity any accumulation of the kind of which I have partaken; but, alas, I must confess my utter ignorance of the vocabulary of the cuisine; and though I was fortunate enough to sit by the side of a man who enumerated every dish, and dignified some with very uncommon names, I was too absent or too stupid to remember them.

Many complained of the want of recherche of his cook; but possibly he conceived that, after the experience we had recently had of scarce and coarse fare, dainties and the more abstruse arts of cookery would have been wasted upon us. For my own part, I confess that the paraphernalia of the surrounding gibbets haunted me so much at the table that I could hardly take my eyes off an immense cone of rice, piled on a huge dish in front of the master of the feast, and as the snowy covering was shaken off, I could scarcely persuade myself that the boiled kid and trussed-up capons were not some novel delicacies artistically carved from a skinned criminal!

The feast being ended, we were ushered into a room above-stairs, where a circle of Nautch girls were squatted round the room, who entertained us with a repetition of those monotonous chants and attitudes which are so generally popular amongst the Orientals.

Some of the women, especially the Punjaubees, were pretty: all had fine lustrous eyes, and some fair and almost clear olive complexions; but cocoa-nut oil, beetel nut, vermillion, henna, and black paint, did their utmost to detract from the gifts of Nature. However, we had been so long debarred from the sight of female charms, that few had any reason to be fastidious or backward in admiration of such novelties, and none of the damsels reckoned shyness or obstinacy as accomplishments.

On the morning of the 10th of November, the Sappers and Miners, and two companies of Native Infantry, were detached to Ali Musjid in the Khyber pass, as an escort to a quantity of camel-loads of supplies of provision and ammunition for the use of the garrison. Having performed this duty, on their return from Ali Musjid they were suddenly attacked by a swarm of Khyberees. A party of Sikhs who accompanied the detachment, either from treachery or fear, at the first alarm severed the leading-strings of the camels, and thus threw the baggage into a state of hopeless confusion. The Khyberees taking advantage of this disorder, ham-strung many of the camels, and thus secured the loads as a booty. The escort having with some difficulty, and the loss of a few men, succeeded in repulsing their daring assailants, returned to Peshawur, minus about five hundred camels and a quantity of baggage, which fell into the hands of their enemies. The commissariat, previously much straitened for carriage, now declared that they had not the means of carrying the supplies requisite for the march.

A detachment, consisting of all the infantry of the column, (altogether six companies, including one of the European Regiment,) were now ordered to march to Ali Musjid, and occupy that fort, until relieved by a party from the army in Afghanistan. Colonel Wheler's brigade of Native Infantry was ordered to move from Jellalabad into the Khyber pass; and thus the defile being entered by the two forces from opposite sides, would be swept throughout, and a fair probability presented itself of chastising and bringing to terms the daring banditti.

Colonel Wheler's advanced guard was attacked by a body of Khyberees at the crest of the steep descent into the valley of Lumdeekhana, but the marauders, seeing the columns advance in force, soon gave way, and retired to the interior of the hills. Subsequently, some of the Khyberee chiefs came down to hold a conference with Colonel Wheeler, their followers burning fire with the Sepoys in token of amity; and much regret was expressed for the injuries which had been sustained at the hands of those chiefs who had not been bribed. On arrival at Ali Musjid, Colonel Wheeler found the detachments from Peshawur in the fort, to which they had penetrated with a few supplies, after another skirmish with the Khyberees, in which, however, the marauders were roughly handled.

The chiefs had promised that on the payment annually of one lakh of rupees, the passage of the Khyber should be kept open to the British; and it was supposed that matters were finally arranged with the Khyberees, but upon terms which did not sound agreeably in a soldier's ear, though, politically speaking, they might be deemed expedient.

Matters having been brought to the conditions named above, by those who were empowered to treat, the infantry brigade, accompanied by the detachments from our column, which had been relieved, now proceeded towards Peshawur. The troops had advanced but a short distance from Ali Musjid, when a swarm of Khyberees once more rushed from the heights, and, pouncing upon the baggage, succeeded in carrying off a number of camels, principally laden with the officers' baggage, which they drove up one of the numerous ravines communicating with the main passage of the defile. The rear-guard, which had probably been overlooked by the plunderers, immediately gave chase; and having been reinforced by parties from the detachments which occupied the heights flanking the ravine, who had witnessed the theft, came up with the Khyberees, and having committed considerable havoc amongst the traitorous rascals, succeeded in recovering some of the camels and their burdens. The troops then proceeded on their route to Peshawur, which was reached without any further molestation.

Such was the state in which we abandoned Afghanistan. Having marched victoriously throughout the country, and thrust a monarch upon his reluctant subjects, the ill-fated Shah Soojah, with ill-disguised apprehension, beheld himself placed on the throne of a hostile country supported only by too much weakened British regiments, a few sepoys, and a small body of half-disciplined Hindoostan levies. The Bombay division, on their return march, had found an enemy in nearly every mud-fort, and met with a spirited resistance from Mehrab Khan at Khelat; whilst the Khyber Pass, the direct gate of communication with our far-distant provinces, closed behind the Bengal column as soon as it had crossed the threshold. The savage and marauding Khyberees, reckless of all faith and treaties, continued to commit numerous deeds of rapine and violence, thus amply proving, had any proof been required of such a self-evident fact, that these treacherous bandits were only to be restrained from their hereditary profession of plunder whilst their mountain-fastnesses were being actually swept by an overwhelming military force; yet, in opposition to these stubborn arguments, political agents were yet to be found who advocated, and endeavoured to adopt, conciliatory measures.

In Dost Mahomed's time, the Khyberees had little or no temptation offered them to infringe their agreement; but the sight of the baggage which accompanied our column was too much for their resolution.

The garrison of Ali Musjid, having been left in unenviable quarters, and our fellow-soldiers in Afghanistan to enjoy themselves as they might in their isolated situation, we prepared to resume our march, and traverse the remaining four hundred miles, which lay between us and our advanced posts on the frontier of Ferozepore.

The infantry detachments, which had lately been engaged in the Khyber Pass, had not rejoined, but followed shortly afterwards, whilst the first column proceeded onwards through the valley of Peshawur.

On the morning of the 20th of November, we proceeded on our march, and encamped a few miles distant from the city. At this place, in the broad daylight, a party of plunderers from some adjacent hills came down and carried off many camels, which were grazing at little more than a mile from the lines. The rear-guard of the Lancers, immediately on the alarm being given, turned out in pursuit, and from a small knoll in camp, we had a favourable view of the chase.

The robbers, amounting to about forty, having got a good start, were pushing for the hills, about five miles distant from camp, and driving the camels before them at a round pace, pricking the bewildered animals forward with the points of their lances and cimeters. The dragoons gained steadily on them; but a few men of the irregular cavalry hung closely on their flanks and rear, and although they were too few to obstruct effectually the retreat of the banditti, yet they compelled them to abandon several stray and restive camels. As they neared the hills, the eagerness of the pursuers redoubled, and the camels dropped fast to the rear, bearing on their flanks severe marks from the weapons of their merciless captors. At length, the robbers, with the residue of their booty, were close to the foot of the hills, the dragoons were still half a mile behind, and the irregular horsemen, who were less than two hundred yards off, drew up, and gave a parting fire from their matchlocks, but without effect. With a shout of exultation, the mountaineers wheeled about to return the fire, when two gallant fellows from the irregular horse, dashing round their flank, threatened an impediment to their line of retreat. The chances seemed, for a moment, to be against the bandits, for none of them appeared willing to encounter their daring opponents, and whilst wavering at the foot of the heights, the dragoons had come within a few hundred yards. Choosing the least of two evils, the marauders, driving the remainder of their booty before them, rushed, en masse, upon the unfortunate irregulars, who were unhorsed, but unwounded, ascended the hills, and dispersed in many directions amongst the gullies and ravines which intersected the face of the mountains.

Barely a dozen camels were altogether secured by the marauders out of nearly a hundred which had been seized. During the pursuit, many villagers from the plains turned out to offer assistance; for these mountaineers are unfriendly neighbours to the agriculturists, and scruple not, when urged by necessity, to take whatever may be useful to them from the unwarlike and helpless dwellers in the plains.

From hence, crossing an extensive plain, we encamped near the banks of the Caubul river on some greensward, and under a grove of trees.

This was a most luxurious day's residence, and the prospect was more English than anything we had hitherto seen in the East, or perhaps I should have rather said, Irish, for the mud huts of the country bordering Peshawur bear a close resemblance to Irish cabins, although the unclean animal, that prominent feature at the threshold of most dwellings in the Emerald Isle, is here considered an unwelcome guest.

A traveller desirous of conciliating the natives of this country must needs be choice in the selection of animal food; for in this district—from Peshawur to the Jhelum river—dwell the Mussulman population of the country, whose abhorrence is a pig; across that boundary the imperious Sikhs look with pious horror on beef-eaters, for one of their deities is a bull. The pea-fowl and pigeon are also held in much veneration by the Sikhs, notwithstanding the ungodly voice of the bird of Juno, and the destructive habits of the sacred pigeons. The allurements of immortality, however, compensate for the loss of temporal possessions, and the depredations of the sacred fowl are viewed with indifference, and by the more devout, with satisfaction.

On leaving the Caubul river, we passed again over tracts of desolate plains and barren hills, until we reached once more the banks of the Indus, on the 26th of November, at the fortress of Attok.

About a mile above Attok, the Caubul river forms a junction with the Indus, and the united streams rush with great rapidity in a deep and narrow channel under the walls of that ancient and gloomy fortress. A temporary bridge of boats had been thrown across the Indus, opposite to the gates of Attok, which enabled us to cross the river without much delay, at the end of the morning's march. At this season, the breadth of the river did not exceed one hundred and fifty yards, and the cavalry crossed the bridge without dismounting. From the approach on the Caubul side, Attok presented rather a formidable appearance, with its extensive and massive parapets frowning over the dark floods beneath; but at the junction of the two rivers, about one mile higher up, a passage might easily be effected with a pontoon train, where the guns of the fort would be nearly inoffensive. When once landed on the left bank, the fortress would not present a very formidable obstacle, for the hills immediately above the town afford an excellent position, whereon batteries might be placed which would command both the town and fort at a range of something less than six hundred yards.

The Sikhs were very jealous of admitting any of the officers within the fortress; but as the best view of the place was obtained from the hills above mentioned, this reluctance on their part did not cause us any disappointment, and the much-vaunted stronghold of Attok was generally admitted to be a fortress of no importance, with regard to its present strength and site. Had a strong detached work been placed on the upper range of hills, it might have rendered the position more tenable, although the whole rampart of the place being exposed to view from the opposite bank, must soon be made to succumb to the stroke of a heavy battery. Such a catastrophe, however, could never have been expected from the Afghan quarter, as their battering trains are not of the most effective description.

A merchant from India had arrived here with wines and other luxuries, which, in addition to some we had procured at Peshawur from another enterprising merchant, en route for Caubul, introduced us once more to those dainties with which previous experience had taught many of us cheerfully to dispense.

Proceeding on our march from hence, I looked in vain for the fertile land of which I had heard and read; the appearance of the country near our line of march was but little superior to Afghanistan.

The tract between Peshawur and the Jhelum river is almost entirely occupied by the Mussulman population of the Sikh territories, from whom Runjeet Singh levied his Mussulman regiments, which are generally supposed to have been the most efficient of his army.

The natives of this part of the country are not supposed to bear any particular good will to their neighbouring masters, and were kept in strict subjection by Runjeet. To quell their martial spirit, and diminish the chances of a revolt, they were restricted from wearing arms, whilst in the Punjaub almost every Sikh may be seen following the plough with the singular encumbrance of sword and shield—at least, in that part of the country bordering on the Mussulman districts.

Should a rupture ensue between the British and the Sikhs, there is little doubt that if the war be carried into the heart of the Punjaub, this ill-will on the part of the Mussulmans may be turned to our advantage; for it is generally supposed that the immunity offered to their religion and habits under the British rule, would induce them to prefer it to their present state of subjection.

Six marches from Attok brought us to the celebrated Tope of Manikyala, in which a vast quantity of coins were recently discovered.

This place is supposed to be the Bucephalia of Alexander's time, by Mr. Ventura. Its modern name of Manikyala may appear to warrant such a supposition; but as the Bucephalia was placed on the right bank of the Jhelum, to command the passage of the river, Sir Alexander Burnes has objected to the site. This I deem an inconclusive objection, for the reasons already assigned in page 214.

The monument at Manikyala is a massive spheroidal building of stone and brick. The perimeter of its base exceeds three hundred yards; its altitude was computed at something more than fifty. On reaching the summit, by the aid of some rude and time-worn steps, we found an aperture, resembling a dry well, which descended apparently to the foundation of the building. This well was searched, some years ago, by General Ventura, and at the bottom was found a box, containing many valuable coins, and also a phial, filled with some liquid.

Whilst peering into this cavity, a tall Sikh, who had arrived on the same spot, stood watching me with that inquisitive stare which, at first blush, excites the sufferer to anger, but which experience had now taught me meant nothing more than simple curiosity.

"Has the sahib discovered any curiosities below?" demanded the intruder, as I rose from my occupation.

"No; but perhaps you can enlighten me on the subject of this huge pile, and as to your native traditions of the architect and his intentions," I replied, in mongrel Hindustani, which this native was intelligent enough to comprehend.

"I was here some years ago," he answered, "when General Ventura searched this well and discovered many ancient pieces of gold, and silver, and copper. The mound has stood here many centuries, before the Sikhs possessed this country, and is generally supposed by the country-people to have been erected by Shah Sikunder (Alexander the Great) as a monument over some one of his generals, who, probably, fell in battle near this spot. Our architects declare that the monument was of a foreign origin."

Such was the pith of the information given by my heathen companion, as we descended together from the building by the rude staircase, constructed, perhaps, by the hands of Macedonian engineers and masons, and trodden by the foot of the invincible Alexander, whose mighty deeds and conquests, although they have transmitted the deathless name of the conqueror to posterity, have failed in assigning a definite spot to his achievements here, or in marking the limit of his advances into Hindostan—if, indeed, he ever did penetrate as far as those realms—if, alas! that after a whole life devoted to the pursuit of the phantom, Ambition, (which was, probably, nearer the grasp of the Macedonian than that of any subsequent devotee,) the attainment of his favourite project, the conquest of the East, should at this day remain a matter of uncertainty. Such is fame, and so much worth, that gnawing and unaccountable desire to live in the memories of posterity, which animates alike the poet, the statesman, the soldier, and the philosopher, to a life of labour, anxiety, hardships, or study, that his name may survive when the body has partaken of the common lot of mortality, and lies insensible alike to the worms which are gnawing the flesh, and its fellow worms above who are probably toiling to destroy that reputation which was the fond and nurturing object of its earthly career.

The keenest satire on ambition which I have read, lies in the observation of Horace—

"Expende Annibalem, quot libras in duce summo invenies?"

But let the cynic sneer his fill at the desire of distinction during life, and the cravings for a name with posterity; such is the indefinable condition of the animal, man, that I firmly believe no mortal ever existed who could despise the prospect of their attainment. Such are the uncertainties which attend human attainments and foresight, that a heathen fanatic has, at one fell swoop, destroyed the labours and monuments of ages of literature,[56] and left the very existence of many sages of antiquity to be called in question: and the stupendous pyramids, on which the suns and storms of unknown ages have beaten, still rear their aged crests into the serene sky, whilst the object and even the names of their projectors remain a matter of doubt and dispute.

Whilst indulging these sombre reflections, at the foot of the Tope of Manikyala, my reverie was interrupted by the approach of a Sikh, who displayed some coins for sale, which the first glance assured me were spurious. Reader, be not alarmed; after this dissertation on the novel topic of the vanity of human forethought, I will not indulge you with a treatise on the still more uncommon theme of dishonesty. I will merely add, that I returned the Sikh his coins, telling him that they were worth a trifle under their actual weight in copper, and then adjourned to a breakfast which the impatience of two brother officers had made cold and scanty. The village of Manikyala has been so completely denuded of antiquities, by the diligence of European travellers, that not a coin of any value was found there by any of our party.

As we proceeded, a barren country still surrounded us, intersected, in the most singular manner, by deep ravines, which appeared to have been caused by heavy floods from the mountains. So frequent, deep, and precipitous are these rents in the soil, that even were the natives ever so industriously disposed, the culture of such a surface would be attended with great disadvantage, both on account of the infertility of the soil, and the difficulty of tillage and communication.

Having descended into the dry course of a river, we pursued its sandy track nearly to the banks of the Jhelum river, which is better known under its classical name of Hydaspes.

About thirty large flat bottomed boats had been collected at the small town of Jhelum, on the right bank, for the transport of troop baggage, as also for the soldiers themselves, if it were deemed requisite; but the river was supposed to be fordable about half a mile above the ferry of Jhelum, and the ford, which was about four hundred yards in width and very tortuous, was designated by several bamboos placed upright in the stream to mark the course to be pursued in crossing.

An officer was sent to report on the practicability of the ford, (the officials from the quartermaster-general's department having already crossed in boats,) who crossed and recrossed on horseback, and reported the greatest depth to be about four feet, and that his horse had kept his legs firmly during the passage. The Lancers then received orders from the brigadier to cross on horseback, and entered the river by sections of threes. The advanced party, keeping close to the canes which marked the ford, reached the opposite bank in safety; but the mass of the column, when within about a hundred yards of the left shore, lost the indications of the ford, which had probably been destroyed by the advance, and, on diverging from the track, the greater part were immediately out of their depth. The line of demarcation being thus trampled over and lost sight of, nearly the whole regiment, yielding imperceptibly with the current, got below the proper ford, and, seeing no further marks to direct them, pushed indiscriminately for the nearest landing-place. First one poor fellow, on a weak horse, was swept away by the current; and, unable to extricate himself, encumbered as he was with heavy accoutrements, soon lost his seat, and being struck by the horse in his efforts to stem the current, sunk, and was seen no more. Soon afterwards several more, mostly mounted on animals which were too feeble[57] to swim with the heavy weights on their backs, were seen struggling in vain to make headway, until, exhausted with their endeavours, they parted company; and the Dragoons, unless strong swimmers, were soon overcome, whilst their horses, when freed from their weights, swam wildly down the river. Amongst the victims was Captain Hilton, commanding the fourth squadron, who, being a heavy man, unable to swim, and mounted on a weak old Arab charger, sunk almost without a struggle. The confusion which prevailed may be easily imagined, and it appears wonderful that so many managed to reach the shore. The boats employed in the transport of baggage, being all heavily laden, could move but slowly towards the scene of disaster, which was more than half a mile distant from most of them, and it was only by working up near the bank and thence pushing into the stream that they could have reached the spot; but they were unable to do so until all was nearly over, and few, if any, escaped by their assistance. Those men who had succeeded in reaching the shore now vociferated confused advice to their comrades in the water, each loudly recommending some designated place of safety, whilst those struggling with the current were unable to catch a single word of advice or command from their numerous advisers, on account of the rushing and stunning din of the stream, and the clatter of surrounding voices. When the greater part of the regiment had reached the shore, a body of the strongest swimmers stripped themselves of their encumbrances, and hurried to the assistance of their comrades, many of whom were nearly exhausted by their efforts to keep above water, or benumbed with the cold, which, at eight o'clock on a December morning, is severe, even in this latitude.

Numbers of camels, which had attempted a ford rather higher up the river, with heavy loads on their backs, had been carried off their legs, and these, floating down the river amongst the soldiers, were the means of saving many a poor fellow's life, by affording him something to cling to until he could be rescued from that precarious situation by the vigorous exertions of his fellow-soldiers.

Soon after the regiment had crossed, it was mustered on the banks, and Captain Hilton and ten men found missing. The bodies of Captain Hilton and six men were found in the course of the morning, and interred close to the river, but the bodies of the remaining sufferers were not recovered during our halt at the fatal Jhelum.

Had we been compelled to cross this river in the face of an enemy, the ford could not have been more boldly attempted than on this occasion.[58] Because a single horseman had crossed in safety it was deemed advisable that a whole regiment should do the same, neglecting the probability of the alluvial deposits in the bed of the river being trampled to the consistency of a quicksand by such constant and heavy pressure. As a sufficient number of boats had been collected to transport the whole regiment, with their horses, across the river within the space of a few hours, it is difficult to assign a reason for plunging into so deep and uncertain a ford, with a rapid current and an unstable footing.

Major Hough, the diffuse historian of Indian warfare, has informed us "that the commander-in-chief and staff regarded the distressing scene with feelings of the deepest commiseration;" which must have been very consolatory to the drowning men, and doubtless the survivors are duly grateful to his excellency for such a flattering display of humanity.

CHAPTER XI.

CROSS THE CHENAB AND RAVEE—ARRIVE AT LAHORE—LAHORE—CEREMONIAL VISITS—REVIEW OF THE SIKH ARMY—RECROSS THE SUTLEJ—MARCH TO CANTONMENTS.

Having thus floundered through the Jhelum, we had passed the boundary of the Mussulmaun, and entered the Sikh division—i.e., the Punjaub. The Punjaub is bounded on the north-west by the Jhelum river, and not by the Attok, as usually marked in the charts. The five rivers, from which it derives its name,[59] are the Sutlej, the Beeas, the Ravee, the Chenab, and the Jhelum.

The country did not exhibit any sign of improvement until we neared the Chenab, being mostly overgrown with long dry grass, not unlike that which covers some of the prairies of America. But it cannot be a matter of surprise, that the inhabitants should pay more attention to war than agriculture; had it been otherwise, they would have sown only for the hardy and warlike inhabitants of the neighbouring mountains. A nation must be great in war ere it can hope to flourish in commerce and agriculture, or the nest will surely be robbed ere the progeny be full-grown and able to defend themselves—or rather, capable of learning that useful art.

The cold of a winter's morning in India, though much less severe, of course, than that of more northern latitudes, is still very smartly felt on the line of march, for it is necessary to march in the morning, to enable the cattle to go out and graze after their work is over.

Mounted on a charger, who is forbidden to deviate from a walk during a morning's march of twelve or fifteen miles, with the feet in a pair of heavy iron stirrups, and a keen blast driving the cold dust through the half-frozen patient, is the daily lot of the soldier on a winter's campaign in the East. With anxiety he looks forward through the morning's gloom for the first peep of dawn; but no sooner has the merciless sun attained a few degrees of elevation, than he exhibits a fiery aspect which soon renders the shadow of a tree or a fold of canvas by far the most interesting object in the view. Whilst the European, clad in his tight and cumbersome costume and accoutrements, toils wearily onward under the fiery noon-day heat on a long march, the Asiatic warrior, divesting himself of a portion of his flowing dress, twirls the light material round his head, and under its grateful shadow encounters lightly and cheerfully the task which lies before him. The graceful Oriental turban serves the invaluable purposes of guarding the head from sun and cold, of defying the edge of the sabre, and arresting the progress of a bullet; the European head-dress answers no useful purpose: cannot the ingenuity of England's hatters suggest some plausible scheme for defending the susceptible sculls of their countrymen serving in India? Verily, if they cannot accomplish that object, they deserve, and may they continue to enjoy, the imputation of insanity.[60]

Five marches from the Jhelum brought us to the banks of the Chenab; of the depth, rapidity, and means of transit over which, about as varied and accurate reports had been received as were transmitted on our arrival at the Jhelum.

On reaching the Chenab river, we encamped within a few yards of the bank; and as the fortunate discovery was soon made that an abundance of boats were in readiness, the greater part of the baggage was taken across in them during the day, and next morning the regiment embarked.

The camels, when unloaded, as also the horses, with a native groom (or "syce," as they are termed) on each, were enabled to cross at a ford, about two miles down the river, which was more than four feet in depth. These natives, being light weights and unencumbered with trappings—for the saddles and all their weighty concomitants travelled in boats—took the horses across the ford without any accident or difficulty. Nor was there any risk in the experiment, for most Orientals swim soon after they have learned to walk.

The country now assumed a much more cheerful and civilized appearance: crops rose luxuriantly on each side of our line of march; and the well-inhabited towns and villages told of an abundant, though not a very wealthy[61] people, for the mud houses were little, if at all, better than those of Hindostan.

Ofttimes, the massive and circular tomb of some Mussulman, now falling fast to decay, (or in many instances, the ruthless hand of time, having evidently been assisted by the unsparing jealousy of the bigoted Sikhs,) glared upon us from out its gloomy and sepulchral shade of banyans. Since the date which some of the buildings tried to commemorate, the haughty Mussulman conqueror had yielded to the more arrogant Sikh idolator, who must soon give place, in the inevitable cycle of events, to a milder and more tolerant power.

These white and spectral monuments failed not in their object of attracting observation, whilst the fretted and ostentatious carving apprised us of the earthly resting-place of bones probably belonging to some proud grandee, who had played his little part on the stage of life, and whose deeds done in the flesh, though failing to rescue his name from oblivion, had succeeded in earning a monument to become an asylum of refuge for rats, owls, and jackdaws. This is as it should be, when—

"Some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth."

Since leaving Attok, we had been accompanied by an escort of Sikhs, under Sirdar Lana Singh, who, it was expected, would have met the commander-in-chief on the frontier with an invitation to visit Maharajah Kurruk Singh (the reigning monarch of the country) at Lahore. Lana Singh being vested with no such authority, our original route, which lay through Lahore, was altered, and the force proceeded by a road which left the capital about fifteen miles to the East.

With a nation so punctilious in points of etiquette as the Sikhs had hitherto been, the fact of allowing the British forces to approach within so short a distance of their capital, without sending a deputation to wait on the commander-in-chief with an invitation to their court, betokened a slight which told plainly the ambiguous relations existing between the Lahore government and the British. The most probable cause of this omission was, that both the authority and intellect of Kurruk Singh being feeble, and the court itself in a turbulent and unsettled state, the ministers were unwilling that the British should be eye-witnesses of their present state of anarchy.

Dhian Singh, the prime minister, had always testified an aversion to the British, even in the days of Runjeet, according to Mr. Prinsep's account, and there is little doubt that this marked neglect was owing to his suggestion. Had they valued, or wished to court our friendship, as the old Lion of Lahore had ever done,[62] they would not have been thus tardy with their invitation, or at least, they would have made some apologies for the maharajah's inability, from ill-health or some other invention, to be honoured with an interview.

On the present occasion, we had arrived within fifteen miles of Lahore without any communication from the durbar, and at a small town named Budee, when late in the afternoon a party deputed by the Sikh government entered our camp, bringing the commander-in-chief the tardy courtesy of a request to visit the capital. Instructions having been received from the governor-general of India, conveying a desire that Sir John Keane should, if possible, visit the maharajah, the scanty ceremony was overlooked, and the commander-in-chief, escorted by the 16th Lancers, a troop of horse artillery, and a few native infantry, diverged from the route, and proceeded next morning towards Lahore, whilst the second column, under General Thackwell, continued their route by the more direct road to Ferozepore.

Having made two marches over an uninteresting country, speckled with patches of long dry grass and underwood, we arrived on the banks of the Ravee, and encamped close to the walls of Jehangire's tomb.

The city of Lahore lay about four miles distant, stretched along some gently rising ground on the opposite shore of the Ravee, but we could barely discern its locality owing to the haziness of the atmosphere. It was Christmas day, and decidedly the least merry one I can remember having passed. The gloom rivalled that of London at this period of the year; the clouds occasionally indulged us with a smart shower of rain, which, under canvas, is the most uncomfortable weather imaginable, especially when accompanied, as this was, by a piercing easterly wind, which swelled in the folds of our tents, and defied all efforts to exclude the noisy intruder. In the afternoon, the weather having cleared up a little, I visited the Emperor Jehangire's tomb, in company with a brother officer. We entered the extensive building by a gateway leading into a large square court, the four sides of which were pierced by a succession of small casements, each divided into two cells, which would have made very comfortable quarters for a Dragoon and his horse.

Calculating on the probability of their being ere long devoted to some such purpose, we found that the square would have well accommodated a cavalry regiment at its full strength. Crossing this yard, we passed under a lofty, arched gateway, and entered the gardens in which stood the tomb of the Emperor: a massive square building, of about thirty feet in relief, from the four angles of which rose the usual flanking parties, lofty and handsomely carved minarets. In the interior, we found nothing costly or worthy of note. On a platform of white marble steps, in the centre, stood the sarcophagus, made of the same material, whose sides had been chipped and defaced by the Sikhs, to exhibit their magnanimous contempt for the deceased Mussulman potentate. On ascending the exterior of the monument, we found the flat roof paved with stones of various colours, which had a singular effect, the whole constituting a pattern of great dimensions. As none of the stones were of any value, and all pretty tightly fastened with cement, the natural indolence of the Sikhs had saved this part of the structure from injury. On ascending one of the minarets, whence an excellent view of Lahore may be obtained on a clear day, we observed, at the further side of the garden, a small conical tomb, built to the memory of the far-famed, beautiful Nourmahal, wife of the Emperor Jehangire. Her pathetic and marvellous history has formed a theme for many relaters of tales throughout the east; but for the enlightenment of the few whose ears they may not have reached, I will give a brief sketch of the adventures assigned to her lot.

Nourmahal was the daughter of a ruined Tartar chief, and was born in the desert between Tartary and Hindostan when her parents were emigrating to the latter country. Overcome by weakness and fatigue on the journey, they found themselves unable to carry on the infant, and Nourmahal was left to perish where she was born. The mother, after deserting her child, was so overpowered with grief as to be unable to proceed, whereupon Aiass, the father, returned in search of the infant, which he found encircled by a large black snake. The reptile fled at his approach, and Aiass, finding to his surprise that the infant was uninjured, brought it to the mother. A caravan, shortly after, opportunely arrived, and relieved them from their distresses; and, without difficulty, the whole party reached Lahore, which was then the seat of government of the Moguls conjointly with Agra. Aiass having found a relative amongst the Omrahs of the Emperor Akbar, obtained, through that influence, a place in the household of the monarch, and rose in time to wealth and distinction. His daughter, who was called Mher el Nissa, (the sun of women,) possessed unequalled attractions of beauty, and was also remarkable for wit and accomplishments—a rare combination for an Eastern beauty.

Selim, the son of Akbar, being present at an entertainment given by Aiass, was much attracted by Mher el Nissa's graceful figure and voice; and the accomplished beauty, having accidentally dropt her veil, discovered to the happy prince such charms as had never before shone upon the eyes of man. Poor Selim, who was as much in love (as the Asiatics fictitiously term a passion of which they are ignorant) as a prince could be, applied to the Emperor Akbar to obtain for him the beautiful toy he had beheld. It was discovered that Mher el Nissa was betrothed to the Omrah Sher Afken, a Turcoman noble, who might be a dangerous enemy, and Akbar refused to employ harsh measures to dissolve the contract. The disappointed prince was therefore compelled to defer his passion and projects till a more convenient season, and Mher el Nissa became the wife of Sher Afken. After the lapse of a few years, when Selim had ascended the throne under the name of Jehangire, Sher Afken left the court and retired to Burdwan. He was recalled from thence by Jehangire to the court then held at Delhi, and the monarch testified so much regard for the Turcoman chief, that he very naturally concluded that all was sincere and disinterested on the part of Jehangire.

At a royal tiger-hunt which took place, the noble beast was marked down in the jungle, and Jehangire, knowing Sher Afken's character for strength, personal courage, and love of adventure, demanded that volunteers, to meet the tiger single-handed with a sword, should present themselves; four came forward, Sher Afken amongst them, and, whilst the others were contending for the precarious honour, the Turcoman Omrah offered to face the tiger without a weapon. Jehangire, with inward joy and outward reluctance, assented. Sher Afken advanced to the lair, and man and beast rushed into each other's clutches. The tiger made some use of his claws, and mangled his opponent; but he had to do with a hero of romance and not a mere mortal, consequently the complaisant beast submitted, and allowed himself to be strangled. The fame of Sher Afken rose with this exploit; he recovered from his wounds, and became much honoured by the people and petted by the monarch, who had many similar adventures in store for him. An elephant was sent to crush Sher Afken in his palanquin. The hero arose, and, with one blow of a short sword, cut the elephant's trunk asunder at the root, and killed him on the spot. Forty hired assassins tried to murder him during the night; he slew twenty, and generously allowed the remainder to escape. Sher Afken seems at last to have discovered that Mher el Nissa was the object of Jehangire's persecutions, and as it is considered a foul stain on a man's honour in the East to part with any of his wives, the troublesome husband retired with the sun of women, to his private residence at Burdwan. The chief of that Bengal province immediately received instructions to remove the modern Uriah to a better world, and, approaching under the pretext of a tour of inspection, but with a large retinue, the king's official visited Sher Afken, who met him unattended. The royal party soon proceeded to business; but Sher Afken having pulled down an elephant and castle, slain the emperor's agent, and killed a nobleman at every blow, was at last surrounded by archers and matchlock men, who galled him from a distance. He did not condescend to fall before his horse was killed, and six bullets, and arrows innumerable, had perforated his body; then, discovering he was mortal, the gallant and devout Omrah turned towards Mecca, threw sand on his head, and began to die. The soldiers dared not approach until he was in his last agonies. The party then hastened in search of Mher el Nissa, fearing that in the first outburst of regret for her irreparable loss she might wish to accompany her deceased husband to Heaven; but happily she was less overcome than they expected, and appeared resigned to her fate, declaring it was entirely out of regard to her husband, that he might be immortalized by his wife becoming afterwards Empress of India, that she submitted to become Jehangire's sultana.

On her arrival at Delhi, to her surprise and mortification, she found that some caprice of Jehangire not only assigned her the most paltry rooms in the seraglio, but left her to poverty and neglect. The emperor did not even visit the woman for whom he had stained his name with indelible crimes.

Mher el Nissa, with laudable indifference, amused herself with embroideries, (in which art she excelled,) and her talents in this humble occupation soon brought her name into notice. After four years spent in this manner, it appears that curiosity weighed more with Jehangire than boyish love, for he stole to the apartments of the beautiful embroideress to witness her toil. The result is evident, for none could look on this dangerous beauty unmoved. The next day, the Emperor Jehangire celebrated his nuptials with Mher el Nissa, under the title of Nourmahal, (the Light of the Harem,) which was afterwards changed to the more dignified and affectionate title of Sultana Noor Jehan. The sultana continued to enjoy her husband's confidence, and forms one of the few instances in Eastern history of a queen being acknowledged more powerful than her lord.

By her influence, her father became prime vizier, and was renowned for his virtue and abilities in office; but, unhappily, her influence over Jehangire was afterwards exerted to produce less creditable and less fortunate results.[63] She survived her husband for upwards of seventeen years, which serves to account for the paltry tomb erected to her memory.

On the morning of the 26th of December, we crossed the Ravee in boats; but the horses, as well as the camels and other beasts of burden, were able to ford the river without being unloaded, the Ravee being much narrower than its two predecessors which we had crossed.

Shortly before mid-day, we arrived within a mile of the city, and encamped in a ploughed field, the advantages of which position were by no means enhanced by the fall of rain on the previous day. The weather now promised to be fine, luckily for us, and the ground was soon dried, and as soon levelled by the constant intercourse with Lahore. Immediately on our arrival, intimation was received that we must consider ourselves all as guests of the Sikh government, who would not admit of our purchasing any of the daily supplies requisite in camp; and it was requested, that a return might be furnished of the strength of the escort, that provision might be made for ourselves and cattle. This daily distribution of provender was continued during the remainder of our sojourn in the Punjaub, up to the day we recrossed the Sutlej. Heaps of grain, straw, grass, eggs, flour, &c., were piled every morning in front of the commissariat-officer's tents, and beside them, droves of sheep and poultry stood, awaiting their fate with bleating and cackling sorrow.

This singular practice of feeding the troops of their allies was no novelty on the part of the Sikhs; the same custom prevailed during former visits of British embassies to the court of Lahore, in the lifetime of Runjeet Singh.

A memorandum was issued shortly after our arrival, recommending the officers to abstain from visiting Lahore, until Sikh guides had been obtained, as a sort of safety escort; it was, at the same time, notified that sundry long-bearded savages would shortly be waiting at the commissary-general's quarters, for the benefit of any officers desirous of keeping such company.

This recommendation was neglected by many, in their impatience to visit the celebrated metropolis; and though, generally, the Sikhs behaved with unusual civility towards us, there were not wanting some examples of the contrary.

The approach to Lahore from our camp was certainly the most favourable point of view which could be procured. An extensive plain, covered with turf, and enlivened by occasional clumps of trees, is stretched along the exterior of the city-walls in this quarter; and the view of temples, barracks, minarets, arsenals, and battlemented-walls, jumbled in thick and confused order behind the ramparts, announce to the visitor that he is about to enter a city which has maintained no inconsiderable part on the stage of Eastern history. As I rode towards the city-gate, in company with another officer, a party of some twenty Sikh horsemen were issuing from the portal. On perceiving us, they levelled their long spears, and advanced towards us at full gallop. I could not refrain from forthwith drawing my sword, to meet this unprovoked act of aggression; but my companion, whom experience had made acquainted with Sikh peculiarities, requested me to ride unconcernedly forward, and pay no attention to them. When this adventurous body of cavaliers arrived within two or three spears' length of us, they checked their horses back upon their haunches, tossed up the points of their lances, and dispersed over the plain, indulging in loud shouts of exultation at such an unwonted display of horsemanship and courage. I could not help thinking, that had I been alone, and provided with the usual furniture in my holsters, the noisy occupants of two saddles might have paid dearly for this uncourteous display of activity to a stranger. However, it is better for both that such was not the case.

Having crossed the bridge over the moat which defends the ramparts, we entered Lahore through a series of narrow, dirty bazaars and lanes, thronged, as usual, with inhabitants, yet so narrow, that three horsemen could not ride abreast, except where some monument or temple had been erected, in front of which the thoroughfares had been widened and improved. It was with some difficulty that we made our way amongst the crowds of people, who gazed at us more intently than if we had been wild beasts in cages. The only recompence for this troublesome curiosity was a good view of the fair-complexioned, dark eyed damsels, who occupied many windows and balconies on the first story. As these exalted beauties had the consideration to appear unveiled, we had ample opportunities of admiring their charms.

Having caused so much sensation, we almost began to imagine that hitherto a wrong estimate had been formed of our importance, and that we really were not what we thought; but, unhappily, our rising notions of greatness were sadly checked by the discovery that we were merely regarded as curiosities, but did not possess even sufficient influence to gain admittance to the arsenal.

The Sikhs were very jealous of allowing any of the officers of the escort to visit their military establishments. In one of the temples converted into a barrack, we were anxious to ascend a tower, which must have commanded a good view of Lahore, but the sentry was inexorable. We applied to the officer in command of the barrack, but he pretended that the doors were locked, and the keys mislaid. This apprehension of gratifying our curiosity was no matter of surprise, although the precaution was useless, as we were not likely to benefit by the sight of their military institution; and as Lahore, in its present state, is incapable of defence as a fortress, the view enjoyed by two officers on the summit of one of its towers would not have tended much to endanger the safety of the city and its inhabitants.

This complaint of the Sikhs' jealousy was made by nearly all the officers who visited the city, though many had gone with influential natives as an escort.

Sir John Keane having been for some time suffering from illness, which prevented him from quitting his tent, a deputation of officers from head-quarters waited upon Kurruk Singh, in his palace, to tender excuses for his excellency's inability to see the maharajah.

There was little display of magnificence or of munificence at this Durbar compared to those which had taken place in the days of Runjeet; and it was evident now that the paw of the old Lion of Lahore had relaxed its grasp of authority, there remained little respect for the present puppet-show of royalty.

Each officer attending the Durbar was presented with a dress of honour of an average value of about two and sixpence sterling, and the damaged Cashmere shawls presented as nuzzurs, would have been mean offerings to send home to our respectable grandmothers. I have particularized those reverend ladies, because their taste in the selection of that elegant and becoming head-dress, the Cashmere turban, might enable them to roll out of sight many of the defects of Kurruk Singh's presents, which would have been fatally glaring when spread on the shoulders.