1830, March.—The natives use a very dangerous weapon, which they have been forbidden by the Government to carry. I took one as a curiosity, which had been seized on a man in a fight in a village. It is a very heavy lāthī, a solid male bamboo, five feet five inches long, headed with iron in a most formidable manner. The man was brought before the judge for murder, and this lāthī was the weapon with which two men were supposed to have lost their lives. There are six jagged semicircular irons at the top, each two inches in length, one in height; and it is shod with iron bands sixteen inches deep from the top; diameter of the iron ornament on the top, six inches. Sticks headed with brass put on in the same fashion, are often carried by the native servants for protection when returning to their homes at night[52].

During my stay at the house of the judge at Futtehpore, he allowed me to purchase some coins from the office, which are very curious. I took four of them; they are of fine silver, rather larger and heavier than the common rupee. About 125 of these coins were found by some children in a field five miles from Kurrah, in August, 1829, buried in an earthen pot. The letters are in the Arabic character, and the date corresponds with A.D. 1313, being 516 years ago. The greater part of the coins are perfectly bright, and look quite new; between the letters, the spaces are filled with the fine white sand in which they were buried.

On one side of the coin is written in Arabic,—fig 2,

“Sekunder al Sāni[53], illuminating the state, Commander of the Faithful.”

On the other side,—fig. 1,

“The mighty Sultan, glory of the world and of religion,
The victorious Mahmood Shāh, the Imperial.”

Round the edge of the coin is written,—fig. 3,

“This silver deposited in a ditch in the year 3 and 10 and 700.”

I brought the coins to England. The above translation of the Arabic is by the munshī of the office. At the bottom of the plate entitled “Hindostanī Song,” is a copy of the Arabic inscription, written from the coins by the same munshī[54].

The Hindostanī song, written in the Persian character, may amuse the dear friends around the hearth of my childhood’s home; and the translation into Hindostanī is annexed, lest errors may have occurred either in the written character or in putting it on stone: the oriental scholar is requested to draw the veil of kindness over any incorrectness in the Persian caligraphy of a poor hàjī in search of the picturesque.

HINDOSTANI SONG.

March 29th.—My husband proceeded dāk to Cawnpore, to take charge of his appointment and to engage a house, leaving me with my friends. On one stage of the road he had such a set of coolies, instead of bearers, to his pālkee, that they could not continue to carry it—at last, setting it down, they all ran away, and he had to wait six hours on the road until other bearers came: as this happened during the night, it was of no further consequence than making the latter part of his dāk very hot, as he did not reach his destination until 11 A.M. The bearers on this road are proverbially bad.

Here I saw the first thermantidote, and took a sketch of it, in order to make one for myself. Here, also, I saw the first alligator, a snub-nosed fellow, which was caught in the Jumna, and sent up on a chārpāī. Mr. W— had the kindness to give me skulls of alligators, crocodiles, hyenas, and tigers beautifully prepared, to add to my cabinet of curiosities.

Collecting Persian and Hindostanī proverbs and sayings, and having them cut on seals, was another of my amusements.

April 19th.—This day brought a letter, saying a good bungalow had at length been procured, and I started dāk the next day. The judge, that I might meet with no adventures on the road, gave me a guard, which was relieved at the different chaukees, police stations.

A barkandāz, or policeman, and two chaukidārs (watchmen) ran by the side of my palanquin all the way; in consequence I was not detained one moment more than necessary on the road. One of the barkandāz was armed with two swords and a great bamboo!

THE BARKANDĀZ.

A man of this description is too picturesque a personage to be omitted. The annexed portrait was taken by S. Mahumud Ameer; it represents a policeman in Calcutta with his sword, shield, and small-arms: the style of the turban and the dress altogether is remarkable; on the leathern band across his shoulder is the chaprās, or badge of the station to which he belongs.

The shield is generally of black leather adorned with brass knobs. Native gentlemen have shields well painted, sometimes bearing the portrait of some native lady, and richly ornamented with silver. We purchased a shield of the hide of the rhinoceros at the fair at Allahabad; there are numerous indentations upon it, the marks of bullets, which appear to have been turned off by the thickness and strength of the hide. My husband used to cut it up to leather the tips of billiard cues—therefore I carried it off, and added it to my museum.

The journey was very unpleasant, very hot, and not a breath of air.

The dust from the trampling of the bearers’ feet rolled up in clouds, filling my eyes and mouth, and powdering my hair; and my little terrier, Fairy Poppus, as the natives call her, in imitation of my “Fury, pup, pup,” was very troublesome in the pālkee.

I arrived at Cawnpore at 7 A.M., and was glad to take shelter in my new house, which I found very cool and pleasant, after a hot drive during the last stage in a buggy.

The house, or rather bungalow[55], for it is tiled over a thatch, is situated in the centre of the station, near the theatre; it stands on a platform of stone rising out of the Ganges, which flows below and washes the walls. The station is a very large one: besides the gentlemen of the Civil Service, there are the artillery, the eleventh dragoons, the fourth cavalry, and three or four regiments of infantry.

The work of this day began by what is really an operation in India, and constantly repeated, that is, washing the hair. My ayha understood it remarkably well; for the benefit of those ladies having beautiful tresses in the East, I give the receipt[56].

June 9th.—The deaths are numerous in our farm-yard; in such weather it is a matter of surprise that any thing can exist. At 4 P.M. the thermometer outside the verandah, in the sun, stood at 130°; in the shade, at 110°! From this time to the end of August we lost 280 Guinea fowls from vertigo, and three calves also died.

A storm is raging: it arose in clouds of dust, which, sweeping over the river from the Lucnow side, blow directly on the windows of the drawing-room; they are all fastened, and a man at every one of them, or the violence of the wind would burst them open; my mouth and eyes are full of fine sand; I can scarcely write;—not a drop of rain, only the high wind, and the clouds of dust so thick we cannot see across the verandah. I feel rather afraid lest some part of the house, which is not in good repair, should give way if it continue to blow in such gusts. This bay-windowed room feels the whole force of the tufān, which is the heaviest I have seen. In Calcutta we had severe storms, with thunder and lightning; here, nothing but clouds of sand—reaching from earth to heaven—with a hot yellow tinge, shutting out the view entirely. The storm has blown for an hour, and is beginning to clear off; I can just see the little white-crested waves on the river beneath the verandah.

In the open air the thermometer stands at 130°; in the drawing-room, with three tattīs up, at 88°. The heat is too oppressive to admit of an evening drive.

A high caste and religious native gentleman, Shah Kubbeer-oo-deen Ahmud, requested to be allowed to play at chess with me; the natives are passionately fond of the game, which is remarkable, as chess was one of the games forbidden by the prophet. On the arrival of my opponent, I recognized the native gentleman who had entertained me with fireworks at Sahseram. I have spoken of him as of high caste—that term is only correct when applied to an Hindoo, Musulmāns have no distinction of caste.

14th.—A tufān, a sand storm, or rather a storm of sand and dust, is now blowing; indeed, a little while ago the darkness was so great from that cause, I was obliged to leave off writing, being unable to distinguish the letters.

The Ganges opposite Cawnpore is about three miles in breadth; and, at this season, the water being low, the natives cultivate melons, cucumbers, wheat, &c., on the islands in the centre of the stream; some of the melons are delicious, remarkably fragrant, and very cheap. During the rains the islands are entirely under water, and the river, when there is a breeze, swells into waves like a little sea.

If a house has a flat roof covered with flag-stones and mortar, it is called a pukka house; if the roof be raised and it be thatched, it is called a bungalow; the latter are generally supposed to be cooler than the pukka houses. The rooms of our house are lofty and good; the dining-room forty feet by twenty-eight, the swimming-bath thirty feet by twenty-one, and all the other rooms on a suitable scale. There is a fine garden belonging to and surrounding the house, having two good wells, coach-house, stables, cow-house, &c. In India the kitchen and all the servants’ offices are detached from the dwelling on account of the heat. We pay 150 rupees a month, about 150 guineas per annum, a heavy rent for an up-country house: the houses are always let unfurnished.

Very fine white grapes are now selling at fourpence-halfpenny per pound. Cawnpore is famous for its fruit-gardens.

The natives are curious people! My ayha, a Musulmāne, asked me to allow her to go to a dinner-party given by some khidmatgārs, friends of hers; and on her return, she said to me, “Mem sāhiba, we have had a very fine khānā (dinner), and plenty to eat—I am quite full;” patting her body with great glee, “but we have had a great quarrel.” She then explained that at a native feast every guest sits down in a circle, or in a line, and before each person a freshly gathered leaf is placed as a plate; then the giver of the feast comes round, and puts an equal portion of curry and rice before each guest. When all have been helped, they start fair—and, in general, the host refills all the plates. It sometimes happens that some of the guests eat so fast they get a greater share than the others, this puts the rest into a rage, and they quietly vent their spite by slyly cutting holes in the clothes worn by the great eaters. It happened at this feast that my ayha sat next a man who was helped three times, and I suspect she cut holes in his attire, which caused the disturbance.

During this month of June we have lost two very fine grey carriage-horses, the first we have lost during a residence of nearly eight years in India; they have been poisoned by the grass-cutters for the sake of their skins, each skin being worth about six rupees. The first stage out of Cawnpore is famous as a place where horses die on their march, and hides are there procurable for tanning. The poison is made into small balls, scarcely larger than pills, which are thrown into the manger, or into the grass. In the evening I observed about twenty natives surrounding the entrance-gates, who had come in the hope of carrying the carcase away, to sell the hide, and to feast themselves upon the flesh, for the people of the Jullah or Doom caste eat carrion. They were disappointed in their hope of a repast; we had the horse put into a boat, and sunk in the Ganges.

My friend spoke with great pleasure of the kindness he received from the governor of the island, during his stay at Reduit; and in raptures of a most beautiful waterfall. The thermometer at Reduit was only 75°, the elevation above the sea being 1200 feet. He says; “The island is an unhealthy place for animals; out of 212 Java ponies that arrived here two months before, fifty or sixty are dead.”

How much I like the description of the visionary life the old man led, lying idly on the shore and gazing on the clouds! It brought to memory the happy days I formerly passed on the western shore of Hampshire, seeing or fancying the most beautiful visions in the clouds, whilst I listened to the sweet monotony of the waves—

Women have more influence over men in India than in any other country. All out-door amusements are nearly denied to the latter by the climate, unless before sunrise or after sunset; therefore the whole time of military men, generally speaking, is spent in the house, devoted either to music or drawing, which of course they prefer in the society of ladies, or in the study of the languages, or in gaming. The young officers at this station play exceedingly high, ruinously so—two guinea points at short whist, and 100 guineas on the rubber, is not unusual amongst the young men.

Happily the gentlemen in the Civil Service have too much employment to admit of their devoting their time to gambling.

If you ask a native—“Where is your master gone?” if the gentleman be from home, you are sure to receive the answer—“Howā khānā-ke-wāste” (to eat the air); this chamelion-like propensity of eating the air is always the object during the early morning ride and the evening drive.

Our servants at present only amount to fifty-four, and I find it quite difficult enough to keep them in order; they quarrel amongst themselves, and when they become quite outrageous, they demand their discharge.

My ayha and the ābdār had a laughable quarrel. She was making herself a pair of Europe Chintz pajamas (trousers) such as they usually wear, made very full round the body, and quite tight from the knee to the ancle.

Musulmāne women never wear a petticoat when amongst themselves; it is the badge of servitude, and put on to please European ladies; the moment an ayha gets into her own house, she takes off her full petticoat and the large white mantle (chādar) that covers her head and the upper part of her body, and walks about in the curiously shaped trousers I have described, with a sort of loose jacket of muslin over the upper part, beneath which is the angiya.

The ayha was sitting on her chārpāī (native bed) working away with great eagerness, when her friend the ābdār advised her to make the trousers full to the ankle; and she came to me to give warning to quit my service, vowing revenge upon the ābdār, because nāch women wear trousers of that description. The old ābdār, Sheik-jee, was sitting down very quietly making chapāties (flour-cakes), and smoking his narjil (cocoa-nut shell hooqŭ) at intervals, enjoying the ayha’s anger, until she stood up, and, screaming with passion, gave him gālee (abuse); he then flew into a rage, and I had some trouble to restore peace and quietness. Natives seldom, indeed hardly ever, come to blows, but they will go on for hours abusing each other in the grossest language, screaming out their words from passion.

A darzee (tailor) is an Indian luxury: they work beautifully—as strongly and finely as the French milliners; they have great patience—because they are paid by the month, and not by the piece. In Calcutta I found my tailors great thieves—knives, scissors, seals—they would steal anything. One man carried off a present I had just received, a necklace and bracelets of a very curious pattern, and a box full of polished pebbles, in sets, from the Soane river.

Bishop Heber, who did not understand native character, and possessed much simplicity, was surprised when the up-country natives thus addressed him: “Defender of the poor, peace be unto you! Refuge of the distressed, sālāmut[57]!” and imagined it was from respect to his holy office. I was playing with the son of the judge, a little fellow of two years old; the child offered to shake hands, and presented his left hand—his native attendant, shocked at what he considered an insult, desired him to give the right hand; the child did so, when the chaprāsī cried out with great pleasure, “Well done! well done! Refuge of the distressed! defender of the poor!”

Ram Din, the man mentioned in Chapter XI., was a Rājput sipahī in the Company’s service, from which, after twelve years’ service, he obtained his discharge; he was in many engagements. In Calcutta the man came to us, and, making salām, presented his chitthīs (written vouchers of conduct), saying; “Refuge of the distressed, having heard of your great name, I am present to offer my services; I have served the Company faithfully twelve years, I will serve you faithfully.” He was a fine native, about six feet high or upwards; he lived with us many years, and had always charge of the boats or the tents when we moved about the country.

A native is very fond of wearing a plain silver ring on the little finger, with a stone on the top, on which is engraved his own name, and sometimes that of the god he particularly worships, if the man be an Hindoo. They usually stamp any petition they may have to send to any gentleman with it, by putting Hindostanī ink on the seal, wetting the paper, and pressing the seal down upon it[58].

On the signet-ring of the Rājput above mentioned was “Ram Din Mahādēo.” The engraver invariably puts the date of the year on the corner of the stone, unless it be expressly forbidden. Engraved on the ruby of a signet-ring, brought to me from Persia, was “Allah, Muhammad, Ali, Fatima, Hussen, Hossein[59].”

THE DURWĀN.

What happy wretches the natives are! A man who gets two annas a day (fourpence), can find himself in food, clothing, house, silver finery for his person, and support his wife and children also. My ayha in Calcutta, who received eleven rupees a month, refused any longer to dine with her dear friend the durwān, because, as she expressed it, he was so extravagant and such a glutton he would eat as much as one rupee and a half or two rupees a month; and, as she herself never ate more than one rupee per month, she would no longer go shares in his expenses. The durwān lives at the entrance-gates of his master’s house, and is always in attendance to open them; his wages are usually five rupees a month; and he is always on the watch that nothing may be carried away clandestinely. The man, whose portrait is annexed, bears the marks of his caste in three yellow horizontal lines above the red circle on his forehead; around his neck are two strings of the beads called mandrasee, as represented by Fig. 9, in the sketch entitled “Jugunnath.” Large heavy rings of silver are on his arms, and the bracelet is also of silver.

The durwāns are very fond of brilliant colours, and are generally well dressed; their food consists principally of curry made of kid, fish, chicken, prawns, or vegetables, with a great quantity of Patna rice boiled to perfection, every grain separate, and beautifully white. My ayha brought me one day a vegetable curry of her own making, to show me the food on which she lived with her friend the durwān; it would have been excellent, had it not been made with moota tel, i.e. mustard oil.

16th.—The native boys whom I see swimming and sporting in the river of an evening, are much better off than the poor people in England. I wish we had some of them here, on whom to bestow a fine cold saddle of mutton. A round of beef would be of importance to them. You may imagine how much must be thrown away, when you cannot with the greatest care, at this season, keep meat good for more than twenty-four hours; and roasted meat will only keep until the next day.

In Calcutta, the tank water being unwholesome to drink, it is necessary to catch rain water, and preserve it in great jars; sixty jars full will last a year in our family. It is purified with alum, and a heated iron is put into it. Here we drink the Ganges water, reckoned the most wholesome in India; it is purified in jars in the same manner. The water of the Jumna is considered unwholesome, and in some parts, my old ābdār declares, it is absolutely poisonous.

We were glad to quit Allahabad, the small-pox having commenced its ravages at that station. On our arrival at Cawnpore, we found it raging still worse; the magistrate took it, and died in three days. Hundreds of children are ill of this disease in the bazār; and the government, in their humanity, have done away with the vaccine department here. Surely it is a cruel act, where there are so many regiments and so many European children, who cannot now be vaccinated. It is very severe, and numbers of adults have been attacked.

In India wax candles are always burned. A bearer will not touch a mould because they say it is made of pig’s fat. We burn spermaceti generally. The first time the bearers saw them, they would not touch the spermaceti, and I had great difficulty in persuading them the candles were made from the fat of a great fish. Some bearers in Calcutta will not snuff a candle if it be on the dinner-table, but a khidmatgār having put it on the ground, the bearer will snuff it, when the other man replaces it. In the upper provinces they are not so particular.

One of the grass-cutters has been sent to the hospital, dying, I fear, of fever. Every horse has a sā’īs (groom) and a grass-cutter allowed him: the latter goes out every morning, perhaps some four or five miles, cuts a bundle of grass, and brings it home on his head. The men are exposed to the sun so much, and live so badly, it is no wonder they fall ill of fever; besides which, they are extremely fond of arrak (bazār spirits). Wine they delight in: when the empty bottles are carried from the house to the godown, the grass-cutters often petition to have the dregs of the wine. They pour off into their lotas (brass drinking cups) the remains of all the bottles, mixing beer, sherry, claret, vinegar, hock, champagne, in fact, any thing of which they can find a drop; and then, sitting down, each man drinks a portion and passes the cup to his neighbour, often saying “Bahut achchhā, bahut achchhā,” very good, very good, and eagerly looking out for his turn again, and fair play.

I have several times made them put this vile mixture away for another day, or they would have drunk it until the whole was finished.

21st.—Finding the night very oppressive, I quitted my chārpāī, and putting on a cambric dressing-gown and slippers, went out on the platform by the river and stayed there an hour, there being a little breeze to refresh me. You may imagine how dry the air must be; I had no fear of cold, no want of a shawl, and my light dress was sufficiently warm. It was as fine a starlight night as I have seen in India. The horses are sick, burnt up in their stables, which are made on a bad principle; they feel the want of the large, cool, loose boxes they had at Allahabad.

August 4th.—It is said, the Earl of C— lost 65,000 rupees a short time ago, by forgeries committed in Calcutta: the person at the head of the forgeries was Rajah Buddinath Roy, a native prince in high favour with Lord Amherst; and I rather imagine his lordship has suffered also by the Rajah’s forged bills. On dit, he used to talk about Christianity as if in time he might be converted; he subscribed to schools and missionary societies, and distributed Bibles—the bait took—in return he was allowed such and such honorary attendance, as by the Company’s regulations a native may not have without permission. This flattered his pride, and his seemingly religious disposition secured him from suspicion falling upon him as a forger, especially of passing forged bills on the Governor-general. The case is now being tried in Court.

People think of nothing but converting the Hindoos; and religion is often used as a cloak by the greatest schemers after good appointments. Religious meetings are held continually in Calcutta, frequented by people to pray themselves into high salaries, who never thought of praying before.

In India we use no bells to call servants; but as the chaprāsīs are always in attendance just without the door, if you want one, you say “Qui hy?” i.e. “is there any one?”—or “Kon hy?”—“who is there?” when a servant appears. For this reason old Indians are called Qui hys.

7th.—The plagues of Egypt were not worse than the plagues of India. Last night the dinner-table was covered with white ants, having wings: these ants, at a certain period after a shower, rise from the earth with four large wings. They fly to the lights, and your lamps are put out in a few minutes by swarms of them: they fall into your plate at dinner, and over your book when reading, being most troublesome. Last night heavy rain fell, and the rooms were swarming with winged-ants, which flew in; their wings fell off almost immediately, verifying the proverb: “When ants get wings they die[60].”

To-night we are suffering under a more disagreeable infliction; a quantity of winged-bugs flew in just as dinner was put on the table, the bamboo screens having been let down rather too late. They are odious; they fly upon your face and arms, and into your plate; if you brush them away, they emit such terrible effluvia it is sickening, and yet one cannot bear them to crawl over one’s body, as one is at this minute doing on my ear, without pushing them off.

21st.—There has been a great fire in the Fort of Allahabad, and the magazine of gunpowder was with difficulty saved. What an explosion it would have caused had it taken fire!

Oh! how I long for the liberty and freshness of a country life in England—what would I not give for a fine bracing air, and a walk by the sea-side, to enable me to shake off this Indian languor, and be myself again! The moon is so hot to-night, I cannot sit on the Terrace; she makes my head ache. A chatr (umbrella) is as necessary a defence against the rays of the moon at the full, as against the sun.

These natives are curious people. Two of our khidmatgārs were looking at the weather; the one said, “It is a good thing that from the pleasure of Allah the rain has been stopped; otherwise, so many houses would have fallen in.” The ābdār answered, “Those are the words of an unbeliever.” Kaffir ke bat. “You are a Kaffir,” exclaimed the first man, in a great rage. It being high abuse to use the term, the ābdār took off his shoe and flung it at the other, on which the first man struck him a good blow with his fist, which cut his cheek open. Here ended the fight—they were both frightened at the sight of blood—it is the only instance we have met with of a native using his fists like an Englishman.

The other affair was this: my sā’īs (groom) had bought some ganja, an intoxicating herb, which he put into his hooqŭ to smoke, and offered it to the other sā’īses. To refuse to smoke from an offered hooqŭ, is a high offence. The sā’īses would not smoke the ganja, abused the man for buying it, and getting intoxicated daily from its effect. He said, “I will not stay in service, if you will not smoke with me.” “Well, go and give warning,” said the head groom. My sā’īs gave him gālee (abuse); at which the head groom took a stick and beat him. The sā’īs immediately said, “My life be on your head,” and running to the well, he let himself drop down into the water; but when at the bottom, he began to halloo for assistance, the well being very deep, and the water also. He was drawn up by ropes. I do not think he meant to kill himself; and yet dropping down such a distance was a great risk. He said, if he had died of the fall, the head groom would have been hung, and he should thus have had his revenge. The next time he plays such a prank, he is to remain at the bottom of the well.

22nd.—They tell me the people in Calcutta are dying fast from a fever resembling the yellow fever. The soldiers, European, here are also going to their graves very quickly; three days ago, six men died; two days ago, six more expired; and one hundred and sixty are in the hospital. The fever, which rages, tinges the skin and eyes yellow; perhaps only the severe bilious fever of India brought on by drinking brandy and arrak, a bazār spirit extremely injurious, to say nothing of exposure to the sun. Almost every evening we meet the two elephants belonging to the hospital carrying each about ten sick men, who are sufficiently recovered to be able to go out “to eat the air,” and for exercise; the poor fellows look so wan and ghastly. The sā’īs before-mentioned added the leaves of hemp (cannabis sativa) to his tobacco, and smoked it to increase its intoxicating power. Bhang, an intoxicating liquor, is prepared from the same leaves. Pariah arrak, an inferior sort of spirituous liquor, is sold extremely cheap, from one to four ānās a quart: it is most unwholesome, and mixed with most injurious articles to increase its intoxicating power, such as the juice of the thorn-apple and ganja. There are many kinds of arrak; that distilled from cocoa-nut toddy is, they say, the least injurious. Who can be surprised at the number of deaths that occur amongst men in the habit of drinking this heating and narcotic spirit, called rack by the soldiers? Flax is grown in great quantities in India, but is little used for cloth. Taat, which is made from sunn (hemp), is manufactured into paper. Linseed oil is extracted from the seed, and the remainder, the cake, is given to cows. The waste land in our compound (grounds around the house) was covered with thorn-apple plants. I had them rooted out, leaving only two or three of different kinds in the garden. Abdārs have been known to administer this plant (datura) to their masters in the hooqŭ: an over-dose produces delirium.

There are several species of this beautiful plant:

Qualities, intoxicating and narcotic.—The Mahomedans give kala datura in those violent headaches that precede epilepsy and mania. It produces vertigo when taken in large doses, and has the effect of dilating in a singular manner the pupil of the eye. Some writers call it “Trompette du jugement,” and “Herbe aux sorciers.” The leaves of the datura ferox are sometimes used to make arrak more intoxicating: its seeds produce delirium. Stramonium is an abbreviation of the Greek “Mad apple,” on account of the dangerous effects of the fruit of that species. Metel is an Arabic name, and expresses the narcotic effect of the plant.

What can be more wretched than the life of a private soldier in the East? his profession employs but little of his time. During the heat of the day, he is forced to remain within the intensely hot barrack-rooms; heat produces thirst, and idleness discontent. He drinks arrak like a fish, and soon finds life a burden, almost insupportable. To the man weary of the burden of existence, to escape from it, transportation appears a blessing. The great source of all this misery is the cheapness of arrak mixed with datura, and the restlessness arising from the want of occupation; although a library is generally provided for the privates by the regiment.

You at home, who sleep in gay beds of carved mahogany, with handsome curtains, would be surprised at sight of the beds used by us during the hot winds. Four small posts, and a frame, on which very broad tape (newār) is plaited and strained very tight, over this a sītal-pātī, a sort of fine cool Manilla mat, then the sheets, and for warmth, either an Indian shawl, or a rezai, which is of silk quilted with cotton, and very light. We use no musquito curtains, for each chārpāī is placed just before an open window, with the east wind blowing on it, and a pankhā, with a deep double frill, is in full swing over the beds all night, pulled by a string which passes through a hole in the wall—the wind it creates drives off the musquitoes, and the man who pulls the pankhā is relieved every two hours.

“A NEW SERVANT WILL CATCH DEER[61].”

A gentleman in the Civil Service had succeeded, after much trouble, in rearing some very fine strawberry plants, and he visited his garden daily to admire the blossoms. One day, when he called a chaprāsī, a new man, a stupid fellow, came into the room; the gentleman would not tell him what he wanted, but said, “Send another servant to me;” the man went out, and after some time returned with his hands full of the beautiful strawberry-blossoms! Had you seen how the countenance of the sāhib fell when he saw them, you would have laughed as I did. He desired the man to put his chaprās on the table, and quit his service at once. The gentleman was an excellent linguist, but the new servant would willingly have caught deer.

The Governor-general left Calcutta on the 11th inst., and proposes to be at Benares on the 10th December. Lady William Bentinck accompanies him in his tour. They say that she is dreadfully nervous about him. His unpopularity is increasing, and some ill-regulated person, in a moment of disappointment and frenzy, might perhaps cause a scene. The events of the last few years, since Mr. Canning’s death, have been astounding. I wonder if there is more room for amazement. I hope his Grace the Duke will not take us under his charge. We are satisfied with King Log, provided he stands in the way of King Stork.

Lord William has been doing away with all the good appointments in the Civil Service; and the army have been cruelly treated, with respect to the half-batta. Perhaps, when the renewal of the Charter is concluded, the Directors will again be enabled to treat those living under their command with the generosity which has ever distinguished them, and which has rendered their service one of the finest in the world.