1844, Nov. 5th.—At noon we moored off the Civil station of Bhagulpūr. The river-side has been very picturesque the whole distance from Colgong. Procured mutton, fowls, yams, &c., from the bazār; and purchased some pieces of silk and some imitation Scotch plaid, that was brought for sale to the budgerow. Accompanied the Judge to see the new church, the building of which he superintends; saw the monument which was erected in honour of Mr. Cleveland, of the Civil Service, by the Zamīndars, and was told, that at the other end of the station is another monument erected to him by the Government. He brought the Hill people into subjection, by whom he was styled the “Father of their Country.” Bhagulpūr is eighteen miles above Colgong; it is two hundred and sixty-eight miles by land from Calcutta,—by water, from the same place, three hundred and forty-eight miles in the rains, and six hundred and thirty-six in the dry season,—and the dāk runs in two days and a quarter. Steamers take nine and a half or eleven days to arrive here. A light kind of silk, called tasar, is sold in this bazār, also, shot silks of various colours, useful for razāīs and native wear, and a kind of cloth called bāftas. Here are a few Hill rangers and a sepahī station.

6th.—A pleasant and cool sail, the wind being fair at times; lugāoed off a sandbank. But few insects, there being no trees near us.

7th.—To-day, to my sorrow, I was unable to pay the Rock and Temple of Janghīra a visit, in consequence of the deep stream being on the other side the river; still, I was near enough to sketch it,—and very pretty and picturesque is its situation. It is twenty-five miles above Bhagulpūr; the rocky point on which the old ruined mosque stands, close to Janghīra, with the mountains beyond, would form a good subject for a picture. Just above the rock we met a large fleet of pinnaces, budgerows, and country boats, of all sorts and sizes, conveying the Buffs from Allahabad to Calcutta, for embarkation for England; I counted sixty-four vessels. On account of their coming down with the stream the sight was not as picturesque as it would have been had they been going up the river. All vessels put up very small low masts and scarcely any sail when going with the stream, on account of its extreme velocity; but ascending the river they carry very high masts, and an overpowering quantity of sail. The last time I saw the Buffs was at a ball they gave at Meerut,—a farewell on going to Afghanistān.

The weather is now most agreeable, delightfully cool,—a sharp, clear, pure air; we use a pankha at dinner-time, hung from the ceiling of the cabin, but do not require it during the rest of the day; the nights are cold. We have moored; and the poor goats, who for three days have been on a barren sandbank of an evening, have now a fine field of urur (cytisus cajan) to browse upon. The people have cut some, and the goats will therefore be happy to-morrow; this is a theft, but allowable on the banks of the river, because a less rent is paid for land subject to the visits of depredators from the Ganges.

8th.—A large white house on the hill at Monghir is visible. I was charmed with the scene when I went on deck at half-past seven this morning: the river in this part is extremely broad and very shallow, with a stream running like a mill-sluice; a fair wind was blowing, and we were in the midst of about five hundred vessels, which had been detained there in consequence of the force of the stream. With this fine wind, however, they all set sail; the lighter vessels with great difficulty passed the bad part of the river, the larger and heavier craft got up to a certain point, and beyond that they could not proceed, but one by one lowered their sails, and fell back on a sandbank, where they lay all in a row, like a line of soldiers. I amused myself with watching the vessels as they came up to the testing point, and went forward triumphantly, or fell back into the line of the hopeless. The cook-boat, with our assistance, was brought up with great difficulty; the budgerow bravely made way against the fierce current; the woolāk, unable to stem the stream, fell back, took some other passage, and parted company. Late at night we anchored on one of those fine, hard, cool, clean sandbanks; the sand is mixed with such a quantity of mica (talc), that at night, by the light of a candle, it shines as if sprinkled with silver-dust. We expected to have reached Monghir to-day, but the winding of the river and the force of the stream have prevented us.

9th.—Arrived at Monghir. The river-side was covered with boats of all sorts as thickly planted as possible: the bazār extends all along the edge of the river, and some good houses belonging to the gentlemen at the station are on the higher ground; the churchyard is beyond, and the Old Fort at the point. The moment we anchored we were assailed with hundreds of beggars; their clamour and cries were most annoying, they were a complete pest,—driving them away was useless. The people selling pistols, necklaces, bathing-chairs, baskets, toys, shoes, &c., raised such a hubbub, it was disgusting; we had all the Venetians shut on that side, and the people had the impudence to get down into the water and peep through them; the chaprasīs drove them off, but they were back again the next minute like a swarm of bees.

I may here insert a paragraph I saw in the papers:—

“The Asiatic Society has obtained an aërolite, or a mass of meteoric iron, found imbedded in the soil on the top of the Kurruckpore Hills, near Monghyr, which had been exhumed and worshipped by the natives for many years. It is a block, weighing about 160lbs., of a somewhat conical, oviform, disk shape, standing on a sort of foot, and slightly truncated at both ends; it contains iron, nickel, cobalt, chromium, silica, alumina, and traces of arsenic and selenium.”

10th.—The next day we started. The Fort is a good object from this side, but, on turning the corner, how much was I charmed to see the most picturesque cluster of bairāgī temples imaginable! The maths are surrounded by fine trees, the ruined bastion of the old fort juts out into the river, and has fragments of rock at its base. The high spires of the white temples seen among the trees, the slender bamboos with their bright red or white flags, and a sort of Hindū altar in front, are beautifully grouped. On a large stone in the river, just in front of the temples, shaded from the sun by an immense chatr (umbrella) made of straw, sat two Hindū priests, who were a picture in themselves; upright at their side was a very high thin bamboo, crowned with the branch of some holy tree, from which a lota was suspended in the air. The whole was reflected in the Ganges, and the vessels and distant land finished the picture. It came upon me by surprise: had I known of the temples that were hidden from my view by the bastion of the fort, I should have walked there the evening before. The “Directory” tells you of the articles in the bazār, but omits these gems of oriental beauty, which are invaluable to a lover of the picturesque. Beyond this stretch the walls of the old fort, which are of very great extent, and the view of Monghir is good from this part of the Ganges. Mr. D— told us, that in coming up the river during the last rains, the current at Colgong was terrific; on the left bank was a whirlpool that set directly on the rocks, and it would have been certain destruction to any boat attempting that passage; and on the right bank was another whirlpool, of such force, that, in tracking to a certain point, the dandīs jumped into the river, and fixed a hawser to prevent the vessel being carried round and round by the current, and dashed upon the rocks; with care this passage was navigable, but the other was not to be attempted. From this gentleman’s house on the hill at Monghir the view across the river was bounded by the horizon, as at sea, the waters were so high and the expanse so great.

Dwakanath Tagore is going to Europe for two years, and is to visit the King of France. The magnet that attracts the Wise Man of the East is the beauty of the opera-dancers, and the delight above all others that he has at the opera in Paris, seeing, as he says, three hundred of the most beautiful women in the world all together;—the baboo is rather beside himself on the subject.

According to the steam regulations, the Civil station of Monghir is half-way from Calcutta,—one hundred and thirty-three miles above Rajmahāl, and twenty-five above the rock of Janghīra. Among the articles manufactured here, the black vases for flowers, turned in white wood, and lacquered whilst on the lathe with sealing-wax, are pretty. The necklaces and bracelets in imitation of jet, at two or three rupees the set, are beautifully made; necklaces of St. Agnes’s beads, monkeys, chameleons, and male bamboos,—every thing is forthcoming in the bazār, with the exception of ducks. The steamer’s passage is from ten to fourteen days to this place,—three hundred and ninety-eight miles by the Bhagirathī, six hundred and eighty-six by Sunderbands, and three hundred and four by dāk; the latter runs in two days and three-quarters. On arrival here the collector’s and the magistrate’s book is sent on board, for entry of all passengers’ names. Two miles S.W. by W. of Monghir are some rocks, with a mark on them,—they were formerly in the steamer’s track, but are now buried in an immense sandbank; steamers stop here three or four hours for coals. Moored off the village of Husseingunge.

11th.—At noon passed the large village of Sūraj-garha, twenty miles above Monghir, with a small river that runs down from the hills; fowls and kids are procurable here, through the jāmadār’s assistance, for boat travellers. Lugāoed off a sandbank; the weather has become very cold,—the thermometer this evening 72°, with a sharp wind.

12th.—The river very uninteresting; the villages dirty and disgusting, filled with pigs and most noisy beggars: moored the boats as far away from a village as we could, and were even then obliged to drive off the beggars, whose incessant noise left us neither peace nor quiet.

13th.—Passed a remarkably fine banyan-tree, the roots of which are exposed, from the river having washed away the earth; would have stopped to sketch it, but could not venture on shore amidst such a crowd of clamorous beggars and filthy swine,—such pigs! so lank and lean, and long-legged and thin-flanked, with staring bristles, all busily employed in turning up the earth with their unringed noses! Old wretched beggar-women, with their skeleton bodies and long white hair, are pursuing the budgerow, uttering their monotonous cries for charity. There is a tope of tamarind-trees that looks most inviting at Bar, and the tar or fan palms are remarkably fine—the natives say they are fifty cubits high. There are many spreading banyan-trees near this place, and the scenery of the interior looks very inviting. The large town and mart of Bar is on the right bank of the river, sixty miles above Monghir, and fifty below Dinapūr, a bye depôt for steamers’ coals; for twenty miles above and below, all this bank of the river is noted for piggery villages and saltpetre manufactories. Lugāoed a little above Bar.

14th.—After a most uninteresting day among shallows and sandbanks, moored off Benīpūr: walked towards a light I saw at a distance, and found a police-station. At the side was a burial-ground of the Faithful; some Mahomedan saint was there entombed. The light was burning in the niche of the pillar at the head of the tomb. It was under a most magnificent old banyan-tree, growing on a bank; the river had washed away the ground from its roots, and they were starting forth in all picturesque forms. Four large suckers having fallen to the ground, had each taken root, and had attained the size of a tree—the great branches spread in every direction. Next to it was a remarkably fine old tamarind-tree: two or three tombs were around under the shadow of these and other trees; the lamp in the tomb rendered them visible, and the young moon shed a bright light between the boughs, but not sufficient to dispel the deep darkness around. One of the banyan-trees to the left was so old, all its branches had fallen off, and its trunk was cleft, open, and hollow. It measured thirty feet in circumference: these ancient trees and tombs would be a beautiful subject for a picture. I asked a native at the spot to tear off a small branch of the banyan-tree: he said, “You can gather a bough yourself, if you like, but I cannot break one off from the tree that shades the tomb of a Pīr,”—a saint.

15th.—The “Directory” says, on the right bank, eighty-seven miles above Monghir, and nine miles below the Patna, or rather Bankipūr station, is a large native town, with a river on its upper or western end that flows from the Hills, and has a pukka, i.e. brick or stone bridge, over it. As we passed Futwa early, some fat merchants, who were bathing in the river, asked if we wanted any tablecloths or towels, for which the place is famous. We anchored at a holy spot; the tomb of a saint is there; both the tomb and the pillar are built of mud: it is raised on a high platform of earth, which is well secured from the inroads of the river by a palisade of the trunks of trees, the outside being covered with old planks from vessels. The priest showed it with great glee, and said, “It is the command that the river shall never touch this holy tomb, which has stood here for seven hundred years. You see it is built of mud; the river overflows all the villages around, but this place is untouched. It is the command that the tomb is never to be built of stone.” On my remarking the strength of the palisades, he was much inclined to be abusive, and demanded alms with the outcries and whine of a beggar.

16th.—The first glance on the river this morning delighted me: we were off an old ruined bastion which had partly fallen into the stream; on its top was a beautiful burj (turret)—there was another bastion a little further on, and then some temples and two more burūj. We had now arrived at Azīmabad, as the ancient city of Patna is called by the Muhammadans, which extends a great distance along the bank of the river, and is supposed to have been, among others, the site of the ancient Palibothra; the Hindoo appellation is Sri Nagar.

“The hypocrites of Bhagulpūr, the footpads of Kuhulgaon, and the bankrupts of Patna, are all famous[46].” The Hindoos were coming down in large parties, preceded by tom-toms (native drums), and musical instruments of all sorts, to bring their offerings to the river. They carried baskets filled with fruits or vegetables to the river-side, and great bunches of plantains, and washed them in the river. The Brahmans poured water on the offerings, prayers were repeated, the people bathed and returned home.

It was the festival of the Sun—the Sūraj Pūja. The dresses of the people were of the most brilliant colours. Flags of a bright crimson colour, bearing the image of Hŭnūmān blazoned in white upon them, were flying at the end of long slender bamboos.

Advancing higher up the river, near the old fort, there are picturesque houses of all sorts, intermixed with Hindoo temples, fine trees, and distant masjids. A sandbank in the centre of the Ganges was covered with temporary huts of straw, where the devout were bathing and offering flowers and fruits; it was a beautiful scene, that animated multitude on the sandbank and in the river, with the high bank on the opposite side covered with the houses and the temples of the city. The pinnaces and vessels of all sorts were decked with flags. Large parties of women, dressed in the gayest attire and the most various colours, were doing pūja, bathing in the river, or presenting their offerings of fruit, flowers, &c., to the attendant Brahmans. “While bathing, the Hindoos repeat certain incantations, in order to bring the waters of all the holy places in the heaven of Sōōryŭ into the spot where they are standing, and thus obtain the merit of bathing, not only in Gunga, but in all the sacred rivers, &c., in the heaven of the Sun-god. After bathing, too, the Hindoos make their obeisance to this god in a standing posture; the more devout draw up their joined hands to their forehead, gaze at the sun, make prostrations to him, and then turn round seven times, repeating certain forms of petition and praise. On these occasions they hold up water in their joined hands, and then pour out a drink-offering to the sun.” The number of boats off Patna is quite surprising. There is a boat-builder’s on the opposite sandbank, and a great number of vessels with large timber-trees are off the place. Passing Hadjipūr, we were not tempted to go on shore, although the fair was being held there, not requiring elephants, horses, or shawls. The bungalow and race-course are on the left bank of the Gunduk that runs from the Nepaul Hills; the large native town is on the right bank. People flock from all parts of India to its annual fair, which will last this month as long as the moon shines. We anchored on a sandbank in the middle of the river, nearly opposite the Golā or Gol-ghar. The “Directory” says, Patna, the Civil station of Bankipūr, extends about ten miles along the right bank, fourteen miles below Dinapūr. It is noted for opium, gram, and wax candles, and is a very large mart. Seventeen hundred boats of burden have been counted lying here at one time. It is the residence of a Nawāb, and a Sadr and Civil station. The Government establishments are at Bankipūr, or the upper extreme of Patna, where there are some handsome houses, also a very large and noted granary built like a dome, with two flights of steps outside, to ascend to its top, on which is a large circular hole, to admit air into the building, and to start grain into; it has only one door, and was built for a depôt in case of famine. It is a very massive building, noted for its numerous, clear, and strong echoes, and is at present used as a guardhouse.

Steamers seldom stop here: sometimes not being able to get within a mile or two, passengers can land at the lower end and get ekhas, or hackeries, (a native one-horse conveyance,) to take them up to Bankipūr or Dinapūr, fourteen miles distant, by way of a change or novelty, where they can inspect the golā or granary by the road-side. The road is very good up to the military cantonments at Dinapūr.

17th.—Landed to go to Havell’s farm at Deegah; found his widow there—a very old half-caste personage. The establishment must have been a fine one formerly; now the sheds are all empty, and scarcely any thing is done there. Ordered some beef brawn and Chili vinegar, both of which proved good. On our arrival at Dinapūr my mānjhī wished to anchor under the flag-staff, to which I objected, on account of the crowd of boats there: had to go on the distance of a kos, until we were past the Lines, to the ghāt opposite the native hospital,—a very uncomfortable place.

18th.—Bought a mŭn of six-inch wax candles of Kinnoo Lall, price eighty rupees. Much disgusted with the annoyance of being obliged to procure fresh dāndīs for the woolāk, and having to send a chaprāsī with the manjhī to fetch them from the other side of the river.

19th.—The sardar-bearer here informed us he intended to quit us; this was troublesome; indeed, the homes of the people being often near Dinapūr, the servants select this place for quitting their masters and going home, with or without warning, just as it may suit their own convenience. At 4 P.M. the fresh dāndīs arrived for the woolāk; how glad I shall be to get away from this place!

Dinapūr is a large European and military station, where the steamers stop by the cantonment flag-staff to take in coals and passengers. It is considered as two-thirds of the passage upwards. It is on the right bank of the Ganges, distant from Calcutta by steamer’s route, viâ Bhagirathī, five hundred and eight miles; viâ Sunderbands, seven hundred and ninety-six; by land, three hundred and seventy-six. The letter dāk takes three and a half days. Mutton, beef, fowls, eggs, bread, butter, fruits of various kinds, and grapes in May and June are procurable; also tablecloths, napkins, towels, cotton handkerchiefs, sola hats, muslin and cotton cloth, shoes, harness, Patna wax candles, gram, wild fowl, &c. European shopkeepers are here. Plays are performed and auctions held. Passengers for Arrah and Tirhoot land here. Quitted Dinapūr with great pleasure, and came to very agreeable moorings off Chittenniaw—a great relief after the annoyance of being near the ghāt of a large station. The people with us will now be well behaved, and give no more trouble to the end of the voyage; i.e., until we arrive at Allahabad.