CHAPTER II.

VISIT TO THE HIMALAYAH MOUNTAINS.

Our party, consisting of three officers of my regiment and myself, started on the evening of the 1st of August, and having halted during the heat of the next day at a house on the road, erected for the convenience of travellers by government, we reached the foot of the hills at daybreak on the 3rd instant.

We remained at a small inn recently established there, awaiting an interval in the torrents of rain which were descending, before we commenced our ascent. After the greater part of the day had passed without the occurrence of this lucid interval, I started with one of our party to mount the precipitous hills which towered above us, enveloped in mist. We procured two sturdy little mountain-ponies, that despised our weight, and, dashing through the torrents of rain, breasted the rough acclivity. The mountains from Rajpore rise abruptly in a constant succession of sharp and lofty peaks, whose sides from beneath appear nearly perpendicular. The roads, which are about two yards in breadth, are cut round the sides of the mountains, and winding by a gradual ascent round some, conduct you slowly upwards; on others, the circuit being impeded, or too extensive for the former system, a zig-zag road is made, to bring you more rapidly, though much more laboriously, to their brow, whence a ridge frequently stretches across to the adjacent mountains.

The spirited little hill-ponies carried us fearlessly across these narrow passes, on each side of which a yawning abyss frequently descends, till lost to sight amid the gloomy shade of the rocks and shrubs projecting from its sides; whilst the mountain torrents, roaring above and beneath, and frequently dashing, in their impetuous course, across the path you are pursuing, present a wild and magnificent sight.

Night had far advanced, and our ponies began to exhibit unequivocal symptoms of weariness from their severe toil, when we arrived at the hotel, then standing at Mussouri, for the reception of travellers. Here we soon divested ourselves of our well-soaked garments, and enjoyed the unusual Eastern luxury of a blazing fire.

Next morning, the weather having cleared up, I sallied forth to enjoy the varied and beautiful scenery, and scrambled to the summit of Landour, which stands about 7000 feet above the level of the sea. On the front, towered the Tyne range, about 10,000 feet in height; and far beyond these, Jumnootri and Gungootri, whence flow the sources of the Jumna and Ganges, are visible, their summits glittering with everlasting snow, from an elevation of 24,000 feet. On the right of this barrier of eternal snow, was dimly visible the peak of Dwalagiri, whose hoary heights, though untrodden by the foot of mortal man, have been measured by his ingenuity, and pronounced to be the loftiest in the world.[7]

Dazzled with the resplendent and gorgeous scene, whose reflection from the morning sun became too much for the eye to endure, I turned to look down on the beautiful and fertile valley of the Doune, which lay stretched beneath, and through which the Ganges, extricating itself from the mountains, rushed, in its turbid and meandering course, into the plains; whilst on the other side of the same fairy valley, the clear and stately Jumma flowed majestically onwards, to unite its crystal waters with its sister river at Allahabad.

The scenery here is excessively striking to the traveller, on account of the miserably barren and uninteresting flats he must traverse ere reaching these mountains, which nature appears to have raised to a stupendous elevation, in atonement for her negligence to other parts of Hindostan. The mild climate of these regions has rendered them a favourite resort, during the summer months, for the families of those eking out their eastern servitude; and many neat villas, partaking more of the character of European than of Asiatic architecture, ornament the sides and summits of Landour and Mussouri. The woods, which cover with great luxuriance the lower ranges of hills, from the base to the summit, constitute the principal beauty of the mountains. The trees most abundant near Landour are the oak and rhododendron; the latter grows to a large size, and produces a rich crimson flower, far exceeding in size and brilliancy of colour the shrub producing that blossom in England; and in the spring so great is its abundance, that it appears to cast a ruddy hue on the sides of the mountains. In the interior of the mountains, I have seen, growing wild, almost every kind of fruit tree[8] met with in Europe. Here is also a very beautiful and gigantic fir growing in the higher altitudes, termed the deodar, which is peculiar, I believe, to the Himalayahs, and much valued for its durable properties when used in building.

The rains continued to fall with untiring assiduity until the latter part of September.

Early in October, I set out with a party of friends on a tour in the interior. We were each provided with a small tent holding a bed and table, which, in addition to our guns and a few bottles of wine and spirits, were all we could take with us; for so rugged and precipitous are the paths, that everything belonging to travellers in these mountains must be carried by the Paharries, (natives of the mountains,) who scramble up the steepest precipices with considerable loads strapped on their backs. There is generally much difficulty in procuring a quantum sufficit of these useful animals. The natives of the plains have a great aversion to the climate of the mountains, which usually disagrees with them, and cannot be made of much use in a journey in the interior. The Paharries, indeed, have a similar feeling towards the plains, and can seldom be prevailed on to remain any length of time in the lower regions.

From Landour we descended amongst the thick brushwood, and long tangled grass which clad the mountain sides until we reached the bottom of a kudd, or valley, not far above the level of the plains, through which foamed an impetuous mountain torrent. We had some difficulty in fording this stream, on account of its rapidity and the quantity of large moveable stones in its bed. Being surrounded by precipitous mountains, which completely intercepted every current of air, the heat in this valley was exceedingly oppressive. The vegetation around us was most luxuriant, and it was with considerable toil we forced our way through the wilderness of shrubs, interwoven with long matted grass.

We now commenced the abrupt ascent of the Tyne mountains, along a narrow Paharrie track, where the footing was extremely precarious, and a false step would have consigned the perpetrator to the tender mercies of the sharp pointed rocks several hundred feet beneath. About nightfall it became very difficult to distinguish the track, but our ponies, who scrambled along without any accidents behind us, seeming to make light of the matter, we mounted and trusted to their sagacity.

I had cause, ere long, to repent this misplaced confidence, for, on turning a sharp angle of rock, I was interrupted during an energetic argument with my successor by a most appalling stumble, and, in an instant, disappeared with my faithless quadruped, from the eyes of my astonished brother disputant.

A few feet under the ledge of rock grew a kind hearted shrub, (better deserving of immortality than the tree of murderous intentions upon Horace,) which I embraced and clung to with affectionate eagerness. My poor pony fared otherwise, and by the crashing amongst the stones and shrubs underneath, I had cause to conjecture he was suffering bitter punishment for his error: far from it, the fall had soon been converted into a roll, on the fortunately gradual slope of this especial spot, and we found him busily engaged with the thick grass which had preserved, and was now nourishing, the little viper.

The moon now made her appearance, and we reached a platform of land where fields of wheat and barley announced the vicinity of a village, whose mud huts we descried on the side of a steep ravine; above which towered a noble grove of the picturesque and lofty deodar. Under these we pitched our tents, and soon became unconscious alike of time and place.

Rising at daybreak, we recommenced the toilsome ascent, and, shortly after noon, reached the summit, whence was beheld an apparently endless range of mountain upon mountain, the nearest bristling with forests, the furthest hoary with snow. The description would be but a continual recurrence to the same imagery, so much does, nature resemble herself in the drapery which she has spread on these wild regions.

Next morning, we commenced our preparations for the chase, and having each taken up a position, our dogs and Paharries entered the heavy cover, each giving tongue as the game started. The ear was now awake with intense expectation; the before-predominating silence was broken by echoed sounds.

The whirr of the gaudy pheasant as he sprang upwards from the covert, was succeeded by the roar of the murderous fowling-piece ringing his death-knell among his native hills; and the sharp crack of the rifle followed the track of the deer, as he dashed from the woods, and bounded wildly down the rocky precipices.

I had remained perched on my rock, contemplating the scene for a considerable time without being called upon to use my weapons, when suddenly a noble tehr[9] stood before me, his long dun hair hanging in ringlets over his body, and his head erect, listening to the cries of the beaters, now growing faint in the distance. I hastily snatched up my rifle, (as I thought,) and taking a steady aim at his shoulder, fired. Though barely forty yards from me, to my utter surprise, he dashed away unharmed, and in two minutes I saw him bounding at full speed along the ridge of a hill nearly a mile off. Turning away in silent disgust, I felt almost inclined to vent my anger on the rifle, but discovered that, in the haste of the moment, in lieu of the rifle I had snatched up a fowling-piece loaded with shot. Having lost an opportunity such as is rarely met with in tehr shooting, for they rank among the wildest of mountain game, I descended the hill in search of my companions, but they were far away, and I contented myself with the pursuit of small game.

At nightfall, our party straggled into camp, having all had but poor sport, which was a trifling consolation to me.

The game in these mountains, though of great variety, are exceedingly difficult to come at, owing to the heavy coverts which shelter them, and it is by no means singular for the best sportsmen to return empty handed. During my residence in the Himalayahs, I have frequently wandered the greater part of the day without meeting with a head of game—at other times, by being on the spot by daybreak, I have succeeded in bringing down two or three chamois before sunrise. It is requisite to approach them with great caution, and always from above; if the first ball be unsuccessful, the deer will sometimes wheel suddenly round, and stop from full speed to ascertain the reason of the interruption.

The gooral (or, more intelligibly speaking, the chamois) affords the best sport of all the mountain tribe. He is to be found early in the morning, feeding among the long grass, generally on the side of the steepest mountains, and must be carefully stalked, for his senses are of a refined order. When wounded, he often leads his destroyer a chase of many a weary mile down the steepest kudds, and over sharp pointed rocks, where the trail must be followed by the signs of the mountain dew brushed from the surface of the grass, or the rocks stained by the ebbing blood of the stricken animal. The sagacity of the Paharries in following this trail, and the sharpness of their sight, are very remarkable, in contradistinction to their neighbours of the plains; but the fact is easily accounted for, from their having exercised these faculties in the chase from childhood amongst the same scenes, as they very seldom quit their native mountains. I have often seen a Paharrie detect, at the first glance, over a mountain, a gooral feeding on the further side, at a distance which took some landmark given me by my companion to ascertain the spot, and I have hardly ever known them to err. They are a hardy, active and courageous race, who, having been a most formidable foe to the British in the earlier periods of Indian warfare, have, now that they have enlisted under the banners of the Company, proved the bravest and best of the native army.

Many kinds of deer are to be found amongst the mountains, and an endless variety of the feathered tribe, amongst which the most remarkable are the distinct species of pheasants which haunt the mountains, the species varying with the altitude; but this subject is rather too plentiful a theme for the present narrative, and must be left to competent ornithologists.

The Jerrow, or maha, is the noblest specimen of the stag to be met with, and may be ranked as the elk of the Himalayah. He stands from four to five feet in height; his colour is a rich brown, and his antlers, branching into six on each side, have obtained for him the name of bara singh[10] in the plains. During the day time, they usually lie in the heaviest jungle; but at morning and evening they may be seen grazing in the rich pastures, and usually in pairs. The Jerrow, as he stalks majestically through the woods, bearing proudly aloft his high branching antlers, looks the undisputed monarch of the mountain forests.

The next in size to the Jerrow is a deer about three and a half feet in height at full growth, and termed the Surrow. He is of a dark hue, with short deflected horns, thickly built, and with coarse bristling hair, much like the wild hog. His head and shoulders resemble a donkey ornamented with a horse's mane and a goat's horns. This scarce and singular beast has a spirit in proportion to his deformity.

His habitation is among the gloomiest rocks and caverns, and when roused from his solitude he prepares readily for the conflict, and charges with desperate ferocity.

I remember an encounter between a brother-officer and sportsman, in the hills, and a surrow, which he had wounded, which nearly proved serious to the gallant and athletic soldier. M... threw himself upon the wounded animal, when he charged, and seized him in his iron grasp, so as to pinion the surrow and prevent his making use of his deadly antlers. The struggle continued a long time; the deer ultimately succeeded in getting his head free, and immediately struck savagely backwards with his horns, when M... narrowly escaped the fatal stroke, and casting himself sideways, grasped the surrow's neck with one arm, so that he could not use his horns with effect, while with the other he succeeded in drawing a clasp-knife, which put an end to the contest.

Besides the animals above mentioned, the Himalayahs can show to the persevering sportsman the small kaukur, or barking deer, the musk-deer, the hog deer, and in the snowy regions, the ibex, and burral, or wild sheep. The tiger and leopard frequent the deepest valleys of the lower ranges, and, late in the autumn, the bear-shooting of these mountains will rank with any sport that is to be met with in India.

I was preparing for the journey towards the sources of the Ganges, when a most unwelcome visitor, in the shape of a fever, summoned me homewards. It was in vain to struggle any longer with my obstinate antagonist, so I yielded to the advice of my fellow-travellers, and turned my back for ever on these wild and glorious mountains. The floor-cloth of my tent was taken up, and the two corners bound together by ropes which also attached it to the tent pole. In this primitive conveyance I was borne by eight Paharries homewards to Landour.

The jolting I underwent, and the stumps of trees that left their numerous prints on my back, brought me in a few hours into a state bordering on delirium. On descending the last valley before reaching Landour, a severer thump than usual caused me to start up, and bless my tormentors; the pole of the litter snapped, and away I rolled, with my dusky companions, towards the lower regions. The circular motion soon made me so giddy, that I might have rolled unconsciously into the next world, but my guardian angel interposed a little copse of bamboos between me and it. When I had recovered the senses remaining to me, and peered out of the copse to ascertain the locale of my fellow rollers, it was with feelings of mortification I counted and found all present and sound except one, who had luckily broken his nose.

Two hours after this event, I found myself in bed, contemplating the surgeon, as he tried the point of his lancet, with the feelings which a pig evidently possesses and betrays on perceiving the butcher sharpening his knife, preparatory to the final gash.

The fever was not unto death, as the reader (if there be such a person) will doubtless have concluded by the continuance of my narrative, and therefore as I cannot hope to excite much sympathy for my sufferings, or doubt as to the result, I had better recover at once, especially as that will occupy but a few words in the present instance, though it took me five weeks at that time.

I had scarcely recovered my strength after this attack, when news of a most warlike character arrived from the lower regions, inducing me to start immediately to rejoin my regiment, which it was rumoured was about to proceed immediately on active service. I reached Merut after two days' journey, and found all minds intent upon the approaching campaign in Scinde and Affghanistan.

I had not been many days in cantonments, before conjecture was changed to certainty, by the arrival of despatches from head-quarters, ordering my regiment to form part of the army destined to assemble at Ferozepore on the Sutlej, about the latter end of November.

All now was bustle and business in our previously quiet cantonment. The furnace in the armourer's forge glowed with as much assiduity, and more brilliancy, doubtless, than that of yore at the shrine of the incomprehensible Vesta. On every side were heard the clicking of carbine and pistol locks; swords and lance-points sent sparkles of fire from countless grindstones, and above all other sounds rose the tumultuous din of the anvils.

CHAPTER III.

MATTERS RELATING TO THE AFGHANS—MARCH THROUGH DELHI TO FEROZEPORE—RUNJEET'S INTERVIEW—MARCH TOWARDS BUHAWULPORE.

The circumstances on the north-western frontier, and beyond it, which caused these warlike preparations, were nearly as follow:—

The fortress of Herat, which formed the frontier bulwark of the kingdom of Caubul, but which was now in possession of Prince Kamran, (son of Mahmood, a deposed monarch of Afghanistan,) had been for some time invested by a large Persian force, instigated, it was imagined, by Russian influence. As this fortress opens a free ingress to the countries on our north-western frontier, the government of India felt particularly sensitive on its account, and suddenly commiserating its forlorn condition, seized the present opportunity and pretext for advancing to its relief.

Shah Soojah Ool Moolk, having been deposed from the throne of Caubul, after the battle of Neemla, in 1809, had for many years been residing at Loodianah as a pensioner of the East India Company. At this juncture, the government of India, pitying the kingdomless state of that able monarch, resolved to reseat him on the throne, and thereby, and, in the accomplishment of that purpose, to further the following objects.

1st. The relief of the besieged fortress of Herat.

2ndly. The establishment of British supremacy and a military force in Afghanistan, as an outwork to obstruct any encroachments.

3rdly. The secure establishment of that long-meditated project, the navigation of the river Indus: the savage nations bordering thereon, with the exception of the Sikhs, having had but little intercourse with the British until Sir Alexander Burnes' memorable visit.

The throne of Caubul was at this time usurped by Dost Mahomed, brother of the late enterprising vizier, Futteh Khan, whose courage and abilities alone had retained the kingdom in the hands of the descendants of Ahmed Shah; until after the dethronement of Soojah, and murder of Mahmood, he transmitted it into more capable authority, the royal line having become equally obnoxious from imbecility, cowardice, and tyranny.

Numerous factions, opposed to Dost Mahomed, still existed in Afghanistan, amongst the leaders of which, the most powerful were, Prince Kamran, the independent chief of Herat, and Dost Mahomed's own brothers, the Ameers of Candahar. There also existed considerable animosity between the members of rival families and tribes in Afghanistan, similar to those feuds which divided the clans of the Highlands even in the recent periods of Scottish history.

Sir Alexander Burnes had been resident for some time at the court of Dost Mahomed, but that monarch had latterly exhibited a decided Philo-Russian propensity, although, in the language of the East, he continued to profess himself the slave of the British: Burnes distrusted the royal sincerity, and had been recalled.

The fortress of Herat had been reduced to so weak a state, that apprehensions were daily entertained of its falling[11] a prey to the Persians, when an emissary from the British arrived with an offer of relief, which was joyfully accepted, and the defence of the city was carried on with renewed vigour, under the superintendence of Lieut. Pottinger, an officer of the East India Company's Engineers.

The Candahar chiefs, though suspected of being in communication with Persia, observed a strict neutrality in the present aspect of affairs.

Regarding the countries bordering on the Indus, no doubt was entertained of a ready compliance with the proposals of government, when accompanied by an argument of 20,000 well-disciplined troops.

The Punjaub, lying between the British frontier and Afghanistan, was at that time subject to the renowned Maharajah Runjeet Singh, between whom and the British power a well-observed alliance had existed for many years; but an insuperable religious hostility divided the Sikhs from the Afghans. Shah Soojah himself had experienced scanty clemency, when flying from his country through the Punjaub, after his defeat at Neemla, for he was seized by the old Lion of the Sikhs, thrown into prison, and robbed of every article he possessed, among which was the celebrated Koh-i-noor,[12] one of the most valuable jewels in existence. Shah Soojah having escaped from, or been let out of prison, as useless lumber, found a permanent refuge in the British territories.

A meeting was arranged to take place at Ferozepore between Runjeet Singh and the governor-general of India (Lord Auckland), at which the movements of the former, in co-operation with the British forces, were to be arranged.

Matters stood on the footing thus briefly described, when a portion of the Bengal army were ordered to assemble at Ferozepore, about the end of November, 1838; and, at the same time, a force from Bombay was directed to sail to the mouth of the Indus, and march along the banks of that river, meeting the Bengal army in the neighbourhood of Shikarpore.

At the latter end of October, the regiment to which I belonged marched out of cantonments, and encamped on the turf where many a spirited field day had been enacted during the previous season. On the following day our tents were all struck at the dawn of morning, and the regiment marched about eight miles towards Delhi.

The fourth morning after leaving Meerut, we crossed the Jumna on a bridge of boats, and entered Delhi, the far-famed residence of the Mogul emperors; formerly a city conspicuous for wealth and luxury, now equally so for the impudent demeanour of its inhabitants, the manufacture of shawls, and an intolerable abundance of flies.

Delhi still contains many substantial native residences, a vast extent of ruins in its suburbs, a few old tombs and mosques, the royal palace, and a thickly-peopled bazaar.

A high flight of steps at the end of one of the principal bazaars, leads to the mosque built by Shah Jehan, some two hundred years since. Passing under a narrow archway at the head of the steps, you enter a large square court, paved with stone. At the eastern side stands the high-domed praying-place, and each angle of the square is garnished with a lofty minaret, all built of red sandstone.

The court is edged with a low range of cloisters, over which is a battlemented terrace, commanding an extensive view of the city and suburbs.

In the distance is seen the celebrated Koutub—a monument erected by an emperor of that name. This pillar is elegantly and elaborately carved, stands about two hundred and fifty feet in height, and is ascended by a spiral staircase.[13]

The original intention of the architect is unknown; the hieroglyphics supposed to convey important intelligence being a mystery; but it is conjectured that it must have been intended as a minaret for a projected mosque, which was never completed. Near the Koutub is a curious iron pillar, the intention of which is as much hidden in obscurity as that of the elegant minar. It appears to have irritated the destructive organ of Nadir Shah, who vainly endeavoured to dig it up, and failing in the experiment, brought his largest cannon to bear on the obnoxious pillar, which bears the impression of the ball, but stands as firmly as ever. We were informed that the mystery had recently been penetrated by a Brahmin sage, who had discovered that it was the axis of the earth: the principal objection to this ingenious theory perhaps consists in the latitude of this immovable pole.

In the palace of the city still dwells the nominal King of Delhi, the fallen representative of the Mogul empire, now unable to command his own movements—that is, if they should be directed to an escape from the courteous but actual thraldom he undergoes. The palace is surrounded by lofty battlemented walls of red granite, and a deep moat. Passing through the ponderous gateway, you enter a large square court, whence another archway leads into a second court, of still greater dimensions, at the extremity of which stands the audience hall, built on eight massive pillars of alabaster. In the centre of this hall stands a throne of pure crystal, on which, our native guide informed us, had sat many a mighty emperor. "See, then, a mightier than the present king of the Mogul empire sit on that throne," exclaimed one of our officers, bringing himself to an anchor on the tempting seat. The amazed guide turned up his eyes in pious horror, expecting the apparition of some monarch of that mighty line to avenge this invasion of his royal seat of honour; but they seemed disposed to put up with the affront, or perhaps to acquiesce in the observation, and remained quiet in their graves.

From hence we passed into the palace gardens, on the Jumna's banks, which were once the admiration of all beholders, but now much neglected. Here I observed, under an alcove, a sickly-looking lad, who proved to be the king's eldest son, and heir-apparent, amusing himself with lighting crackers, and pelting them at his attendants, or thrusting them in the faces of those he could reach—a pretty fair emblem of what the petty tyrant might become were time and opportunity afforded him. Yet, even in modern times, have men raised an incubus of this class to oppress and torture themselves, and, bending meekly to the royal idol, earned and deserved the infliction. The recent history of India, not a century ago, teems with instances which cast far in the shade the comparatively feeble efforts of Domitian or Commodus.

The cholera was raging to an awful extent whilst we were encamped outside the walls of Delhi, and upwards of two hundred were daily falling victims. Though we felt not the scourge at once, the column had not proceeded many marches before the seeds of the disease, probably brought from hence, and lurking among us, burst and spread devastation around.

The experimental camel-battery, in charge of Major Pew, joined our brigade, which had been formed at Delhi, and accompanied us to Ferozepore.

On the 4th of November we quitted Delhi, and marched through an uninteresting country, over-spread with low jungle and marsh, save where a small village, perched on an eminence, enlivened the view by the cultivation in its neighbourhood. A chain of pickets was now posted daily, and an officer sent about twenty miles in advance to explore and report on the country to our brigadier.

The cholera, that scourge of the east, now made its appearance amongst us, carrying off three of our men the first day, and sending numbers into hospital, but singularly enough not another fell a victim to the disease, which confined itself to the natives and committed dire havoc amongst them. Numbers died on the line of march daily, and the camp and hospital were literally strewn with dead bodies.

No sooner had the pestilence stricken them than they succumbed to fate without using an effort to obtain relief, and died often without a struggle in less than an hour after their seizure.

Grass-cutters, coolies, and the lower castes, were the principal victims, and few were the officers in camp who had not to lament the loss of some servants carried off during the four days the epidemic resided with us.

The causes assigned, by the medical men, for the outbreak of cholera, were the unripe grain used by the natives as food, and the rank vegetation springing around us; for we were passing still through jungle, interwoven with long coarse grass. However, this continued the same the whole way to Ferozepore nearly, and the scourge remained but four days upon us, which does not tend to strengthen the above mentioned reason. I know not why we should attempt to assign causes for the prevalence of cholera, whilst those of many other diseases are unheeded.

One learned practitioner (a Dr. Tytler) has written a book to prove that the malady is caused by the prevalent use of rice amongst the natives of India, and proposes calling the cholera the "Morbus Oryzeus." No doubt the change of name was in order to show the choleric imp how well we knew him, and to warn him off.

But, however applicable the theory might seem to India, the learned doctor must find some other reason for its European visit, where rice is certainly not the principal food of the inhabitants. To those acquiescing in the Tytler theory, I can only recommend, in the words of Horace,

"Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amici."

On the 28th of November we reached Ferozepore, the general rendezvous for the Bengal force, and found the army encamped about four miles from the left bank of the Sutlej.

Lord Auckland and Sir Henry Fane had also arrived, to meet Runjeet Singh, who was encamped, with a force of 20,000 troops, on the opposite bank, and had thrown a bridge of boats across the river. The Sutlej was then about two hundred and fifty yards in breadth, rolling sluggishly over its muddy bed, and through a country where little was to be seen but long dry grass and low jhow jungle.

The town was undergoing considerable improvements, under the hands of our engineers. The fort, too, was re-echoing to the mason's and carpenter's weapons, and most of the narrow streets in the suburbs were being levelled, to make way for a wide and massive bazaar, so that, from a mean and dirty place, Ferozepore bids fair to become, ere long, a large and flourishing town.

The army, daily arriving, were encamped north-west of Ferozepore, between it and the Sutlej, and consisted of—

The Cavalry Brigade, commanded by Colonel Arnold, comprising Her Majesty's 16th Lancers, 2nd and 3rd Native Cavalry, and one troop Horse Artillery.

1st Infantry Brigade, commanded by Colonel Sale: of Her Majesty's 13th Light Infantry, two regiments Native Infantry, and the Camel Battery.

2nd Infantry Brigade, Colonel Dennis: Her Majesty's 3rd Buffs, two regiments Native Infantry, Sappers.

3rd Infantry Brigade, Colonel Roberts: Company's European regiment, two regiments Native Infantry, Park of Artillery.

4th Brigade, Colonel Nott: three regiments Native Infantry.

5th Brigade, Colonel Paul: three regiments Native Infantry, one company Artillery, besides engineers, commissariat, and staff.

The day after our arrival, Maharajah Runjeet Singh came over to visit Lord Auckland, and I accompanied the governor-general's escort on the occasion. After remaining upwards of six hours in the saddle, in front of Lord Auckland's Durbar tents, we heard the welcome sound of Runjeet's gongs and nousheras approaching, and shortly after, from beneath a massive canopy of dust, emerged the motley array of Runjeet's elephants and cavalcade. Now, hundreds of gaily clad Sikh horsemen—some in bright chain armour, others in various coloured silks and cloth of gold, brandished their long spears, flung back their brass embossed shields, and galloped with headlong fury around the maharajah's elephants, exhibiting to us the singular dexterity with which they could wield their arms and manage their horses.

As the procession approached, Runjeet was conspicuous in front, on an enormous elephant, and dressed in a plain suit of ruby coloured cashmere, with a turban of the same colour, whilst on his arm glittered the famous koh-i-noor, the diamond which, as I before mentioned, his highness obtained in no very creditable manner from Shah Soojah.

The maharajah was rather below the middling stature, slight in form, and his face expressive of the shrewdest cunning. The leer that occasionally escaped from his single optic seemed to tell a clear tale of debauchery. He was then about fifty-six years of age, although I should have taken him to be more; but an unbridled devotion to ardent spirits tells on personal appearance, and appeared to have corroded his iron frame.

After the chief had passed, a swarm of Sikhs followed, some on horseback and some on foot, dressed in the most fantastical and grotesque style, but at the same time the materials were generally of a costly and extravagant quality.

The long spear and matchlock appeared to be their favourite weapons; but many were armed only with tolwars and daggers. The rear was closed up by a battalion of infantry, dressed much like our sepoys, and drilled according to the French system of military tactics, introduced by General Alard.

As Runjeet approached the audience tent, Lord Auckland and Sir Henry Fane put their elephants in motion to meet him, and, after sundry greetings and salaams, the whole party proceeded to the Durbar, where the principal actors were obscured from our view by the dense mass of British officers and Sikhs, who thronged in after them. What passed is barely worthy of record. Lord Auckland presented a picture of Queen Victoria, which Runjeet, with becoming gallantry, pressed to his lips. After sundry professions of inviolable friendship, Runjeet made some inquiries regarding Aden, which Sir Henry Fane informed him was occupied by a British garrison. In a short time they adjourned to look at some cannon, which had been brought as a present to the maharajah, and over which both he and Sir Henry narrowly escaped breaking their heads, having stumbled on a heap of cannon balls arranged near the tent.

Accompanied by his suite, Runjeet remounted his elephant amidst a deafening salute from the guns of the camel-battery; these seemed to take his fancy vastly; and, drawing up opposite them, he saw the camels yoked and the guns drawn past him, expressing great delight and astonishment at the neatness and regularity of this newly constructed battery.

When the maharajah had departed, we also returned to camp, which we did not reach before one o'clock, when the sun, although a December one, was fiercely hot.

On the 1st of December, Lord Auckland returned Runjeet's visit. We arrived at the river about sunrise, and having crossed on the bridge of boats, found Runjeet's army drawn up, and forming a street from the river to the Durbar tents. Nearest to us were the cavalry, the same motley hordes we had seen two days before; beyond them, stood the infantry, dressed, both in the military and common acceptation of the term, with extraordinary attention; and if they will fight as well as they look, are likely to do their master good service. Next came a body of goorcheras, or irregular horsemen, dressed in white, and armed with lances and matchlocks—a remarkably fine-looking body of men, but generally believed to have an insuperable objection to injure their fellow-creatures. Much as we may admire their philanthropy, we must nevertheless admit the quality to be objectionable in a military point of view. In rear of this array of philanthropists, were disposed a numerous body of surwars, mounted on camels, and carrying swivel-guns, which looked like large blunderbusses, from which abominable instruments an incessant firing was kept up from the time we crossed the river until we recrossed on our return.

The governor-general having made his appearance in the street of Sikhs, Runjeet and his court advanced at a rapid pace on their elephants to greet his excellency. The dust arose in such masses as for a time obscured every object; but at the point of junction of the two parties, the concentrated cloud slowly drifted aside, and displayed to our dazzled sight the richest blaze of Eastern splendour that for many years had reflected the rays of our destructive enemy.

The elephants' housings in Runjeet's suite were made of gorgeously-embroidered gold cloth, and surmounted by howdahs, inlaid with ivory and ebony; and Runjeet and his attendants, glittering with silver and gold, silks and precious stones, formed a marked contrast to the governor-general and his retinue in their scarlet or blue uniforms.

The maharajah, as before, was remarkable among the Sikh throng for the uniformity of his costume, and the noble elephant which carried him, on which Lord Auckland had now seated himself, at Runjeet's invitation; and the whole procession moved rapidly towards the Durbar tents.

Disengaging myself from the mêlée which ensued, I galloped up the street, and after some difficulty, succeeded in effecting an entrance through the silken gateway. Within, was a garden, where the rarest evergreens and flowers were growing, having sprung up, as if by magic,[14] during the night. In the centre, was the Durbar-tent, made of strongly-woven Cashmere, and supported by silver poles. The floor was spread with Persian carpets, and the furniture was of frosted silver, inlaid with golden ornaments.

The maharajah having seated himself, Sir Henry Fane and Lord Auckland took their places on each side.

Behind Runjeet stood his prime minister, the wily and tyrannous Dhian Singh, clad in a panoply of bright steel armour, elaborately gilded. Little could be seen of his face besides the dark flashing eyes and high-bridged nose, for a monstrous pair of moustaches and a beard covered his visage and a great part of his body also.

A glittering string of diamonds and emeralds encircled his neck; and in his turban stood a bustard's feather, fastened by a diamond brooch. Scattered about the tent were many of the sirdars and ministers, remarkable, principally, for the variety and magnificence of their attire and the length of their beards.

Mr. Macnaghten, who had been appointed British envoy to Caubul in the meditated operations, stood in front of the trio, acting as interpreter on the occasion, during which I did not hear any political subject discussed.

Runjeet, finding matters look heavy and irksome, sent for a party of Punjaubee girls, to dance and sing for the amusement of his two solemn visitors. The young ladies who made their appearance were not remarkable for beauty: amongst the whole coterie, I saw but two girls who could be called pretty. I did not hear, and lament I cannot record, the opinions of the governor-general and commander-in-chief on this particular.

The imposing ballet being ended, and the little Nautch damsels having filed off, presents of Cashmere shawls and jewellery were brought on trays and exhibited. When these had been taken away, there seemed no chance of any more amusements. Poor Runjeet's stock was exhausted; he looked dreadfully ennuyé; and it certainly seemed a relief to the chief performers when the party broke up. We all hastened to get back to our posts when the ceremony was over, though much impeded by the inquisitiveness of the Sikhs, whose curiosity about every trifle was quite insatiable. A long-haired barbarian begged to be informed the use of a sabretash, which seemed to take his fancy much, and inquired if it was used to carry provisions? He was informed that we seldom or ever touched food for many days on a campaign if there were much hard fighting. "Wau, wau!" exclaimed the astonished barbarian, dropping the sabretash, and gazing in his informant's face with equal amazement and credulity.

A Sikh sipahee, remarking some British officers with few symptoms of manhood visible on their faces, quaintly inquired what rank those young ladies held in the army!

Benighted savage! he little knew, and perhaps could never understand, the absolute and tyrannous sway maintained by our Northern fair!

About mid-day, we recrossed the bridge of boats, and returned, under a scorching sun, to camp.

The following day, a review of the British forces was held, for the benefit of the maharajah. About ten thousand men were under arms at daybreak; but from that time till noon, when we returned to camp, everything was wrapped in an almost impenetrable veil of dust.

The next day, Runjeet gave us a field-day on his side of the river, which I was prevented by duty from witnessing; but from the picket near the Sutlej, where I was posted, the firing of the infantry and artillery seemed quite as rapid, though not quite so steady, as our own. Indeed, most of the officers returned astonished to find the Sikh army so effective and well-disciplined.

For this discipline, Runjeet was mainly indebted to Generals Alard and Ventura, two officers of the French imperial army, who passed through Lahore on their travels from Persia to Hindostan.

They were detained by Runjeet in a sort of honorary captivity, until he succeeded in inducing them to enter his service. At the expiration of six months, Ventura exhibited to the maharajah a battalion of Sikhs, organized on the French system of military tactics, and Runjeet, as may be supposed, was greatly pleased at the incalculable improvement in his men's appearance.

One circumstance gave considerable annoyance to the sensitive general, which was the indomitable taste for finery among the subordinate officers, many of whom far surpassed their commander in richness of costume. This circumstance was turned to some account by the politic Ventura, who insinuated to his master that many officers of his battalion were enabled to wear richer lace and bullion than he could procure or afford. Runjeet replied, that he would put it beyond their power to do so any longer, and caused to be made and presented to Ventura a pair of pearl epaulettes of unrivalled magnificence.

Both these officers remained long in the service of the Sikhs. Alard died shortly before the old Lion himself, but Ventura remained to serve his successor Shere Singh.

A continual scene of festivity prevailed in Runjeet's camp during our halt at Ferozepore. The sound of music and revelry was borne on the evening breeze, the rattle of feu-de-joie rang daily in our ears, and at night the welkin glowed with fireworks and illuminations.

At length, the order for our march was issued, and the proclamation stated, that in consequence of recent intelligence[15] from Herat, the commander-in-chief, and governor-general deemed it requisite to prosecute the campaign with the following troops only—viz.,

The Cavalry Brigade, and Camel Battery.

Three Brigades of Infantry and the Artillery of the Park, with two troops of Horse Artillery.

The whole Bengal force was placed under command of Sir Willoughby Cotton, until its junction with the Bombay army, when Sir John Keane was to assume command of the united forces, as Sir Henry Fane was suffering severely from ill health, and about to resign his command and return to England.

Colonel Thackwell, of the 3rd Light Dragoons, was appointed to command the cavalry division, consisting of two brigades, one from the Bengal, the other from the Bombay presidency.

On the tenth of December, we commenced our march from Ferozepore, passing, during the first four days, through the protected Sikh states, and encamping near villages where supplies were abundant and water excellent.

On the fifth day, we entered the territories of Bahawul Khan, concerning whom many false reports had been prevalent in camp, setting forth his ill disposition towards the British, and his desire to impede our progress through his country; the propagators of these fanciful rumours fathering them invariably on the most plausible and least tangible authorities.

The confidential whispers of the envoy who was in our rear, or of Sir Alexander Burnes, who was in advance, were usually quoted by these alarmists to command attention to their fabrications. At first, these tales formed matter of amusement and speculation on the line of march; but as falsehoods were daily multiplied, the authors, and their inventions, became a fair subject of ridicule, and, as in the fable of the shepherd's boy and the wolf, all reports were alike disbelieved. However, the information department, during the whole campaign, was not eminently successful; and this may, in some degree, palliate the superabundance of false reports prevalent during the whole march, which, in many instances, had influence over those in command, and were productive of mischievous results.

During our march through the Bahawulpore country, we found an abundant stock of grain collected for us at each encampment, which enabled the commissariat to reserve the stores laid in for the campaign.

During each morning's march, the Sutlej lay about two or three miles distant. The country adjacent to it was well cultivated, and in some places covered with thick underwood; yet, notwithstanding the abundant supply of fuel on the river's banks, many commissariat camels had been laden with wood for the use of the army, which had much more need of grain and other useful stores, of which ere long they bitterly felt the want. It is worthy of observation, that Burnes, in his report of the Indus and Sutlej, made frequent mention of the jungle in their vicinity.

Although the prospect, thus far, was sufficiently cheering on the right, that on our left flank presented a dreary contrast. We had reached the borders of that extensive desert which lies south and east of Bahawulpore, and reduces the cultivated tract of this country to a mere strip of land, bordering the Sutlej. Far as the eye could reach when turned towards the British possessions, nothing was discernible but a barren and trackless desert. Here and there, a few hillocks had collected and risen over some untimely shrubs, which had sprung up unconscious of their fatal position, until the domineering sands, jealous of such an encroachment on their demesnes, arose and entombed their helpless victims, leaving these mounds as so many trophies to assert their resistless and desolating sway.

The roads were deep and sandy, causing the artillery horses and bullocks severe labour in dragging the guns. But the camels of Major Pew's battery were quite in their element on the desert, and stalked lustily away with the heavy guns and carriages.

About the end of December, we had some light showers of rain, which rendered the climate delightfully cool in the daytime, (the nights and mornings had been piercingly cold for some weeks,) and cloth garments were in great requisition.

The inhabitants of the country were so peaceably disposed, that we were enabled to send on tents over night according to the custom in India, which ensures, on arrival in camp, every morning, the luxuries of a cup of coffee, a couch, and a bath; the latter is taken al fresco from a skin filled with water, and poured over the shoulders by a native. Notwithstanding the good feeling exhibited by the country-people, our military authorities seemed resolved to distrust them, and posted a squadron on picket, day and night, with orders to keep mounted patrols on the alert. An opportunity was hereby afforded of exercising our vigilance on the camel-drivers and grass-cutters near the camp, and also of ascertaining by experiment, how much deterioration would be effected in the constitution of man and horse, by a curtailment of natural rest, added to long daily marches, and what length of time would be required to effect that object: the result amply solved the problem.

The jungle, on the banks of the river, held a vast quantity of game; the most numerous of which, was the black partridge—a bird also found in many parts of Hindostan, and the most beautifully marked, I think, of the feathered tribe. They frequent the jhow[16] jungle during the heat of the day, and require an extensive and compact line of beaters to get them out of the thick covert. Hare, snipe, and quail, were also plentiful, and, occasionally, we met with a great variety of wild duck and water-fowl of almost every description, among the marshes by the river side. The shooting in these marshes can only be followed by those who despise malaria, for they are proverbially unhealthy: the excitement of meeting a stray tiger, or sinking in one of the treacherous quicksands which abound in the vicinity of the Sutlej, and are generally felt before they are seen, may add zest to more adventurous sportsmen.

The distance from Ferozepore to Bahawulpore was two hundred and twenty-one miles, according to our route; this, we overcame in eighteen marches, having halted twice for a day. The government agents had been exerting themselves to get supplies laid in for us at each march, but complaints were urged against Bahawul Khan, of not having duly exerted himself in forwarding this object. Poor man! no doubt he entertained strong fear regarding his own independence, after the military visit with which he was now threatened—no British troops having marched this road previously. Shah Soojah, with his motley contingent,[17] preceded the column, and no doubt seized the lion's share of whatever supplies he met with, and from his previous character, there is no reason to suppose that Bahawul Khan entertained a high opinion of our royal companion.

Our army now marched in five columns, the sappers and miners in advance, the cavalry-brigade next, and the three infantry-brigades in succession, at intervals of one day's march between each brigade.