NOTES I OF A TOUR FROM BANGALORE TO CALCUTTA; if THENCE TO DELHI, AND, SUBSEQUENTLY, ■ A- TO BRITISH SIKEIM DURING THE EAELY PART OF 1867. BY MAJOR GEORGE E. BULGER F.L.S. F.R.G.S. C.M.Z.S. ETC. l O ttii printed at the regimental press 2nd Batt. 10th Foot 1869. INSCRIBED TO WILLIAM RUTHERFORD, ESQUIRE M.D. C.B. DKJUTV INSl'ECTOB GENERAL OF ARMY HOSPITALS, AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND REGARD, BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. * * The manuscripts of this little work were placed by the author in tlie hands of the Committee for the management of the Soldiers' Workshops of the Second Battalion Tenth Foot, with a view to the encouragement of those most wise and excellent institutions. The pre- sent edition has been printed, and will be disposed of solely for the benefit of the Printing- Press Fund of the Regiment. CONTENTS. PACE. CHAPTER I. FROM BANGALORE TO CALCUTTA , .... 1. CHAPTER II. FROM CALCUTTA TO 3ANKIP0RE (J. CHAPTER III. FROM BANKIPORE TO CAWNPORE » . , . . JO. CHAPTER IV. FROM CAWNPORE TO LUCKNOW .. ,, ,, ,, J Q, CHAPTER V. FROM CAWM PORE TO AGRA .. .. .. ., .. 20. CHAPTER VI. FROM AGRA TO DELHI, AND THENCE TO MIUZAPORE , . . . 27. CHAPTER VII. THE EAST INDIAN RAILWAY 32, CHAPTER Vlir. FROM SAHIBGUNGE TO DARJEELING 36. CHAPTER IX. DARJEELING AND ITS VICINITY . . . , , , .... 47. CHAPTER X. DARJEELING AND ITS VICINITY (continued) 53. CHAPTER I. After a most dusty and uncomfortable railway-drive from Bangalore, we found ourselves, about nine o'clock on tlie morning of the 12th February 1807, at the Madras terminus, whence we proceeded in a gharri to the Capper- House Hotel, on the South Beach— a pleasant- ly-situated establishment, but rather far from town, and, at the time I mention, so full, that we could only get rooms upon the ground- floor, which were, at the best, somewhat gloomy apartments, abound- ing in fleas and mosquitos. However, it was otly for a day or two, and we were fain to be content. The greater portion of the journey from Bangalore, was accomplish- ed during the hours of darkness; therefore I saw but little of the country, excepting wliat we passed through after day-light ; and that appeared to be largely composed of paddi- fields, tanks, and topes of palmyra-palms, with a village here and there. Madras looked dilapidated and decaying wlien I first saw it, nine years ago; and it scarcely seems to have improved since then, but wears much the aspect of a place, that, having seen its best days, is , going to ruin— slowly but surely. The vicinity of Mount Road is, perhaps, the best part of the city, and here there are some signs of progress. A few fine buildings have, also, been added to Fort Saint George since 1857 ; and a menagerie is being formed in the People's Park, which promises well for the future. The glare in the streets, . d on the beach, was frightful, and we felt the heat very much, after the comparatively cool climate of the Mysore plateau. On the morning of the 14th, the steam-ship 'Burniah,' in which 2 we were passengers to Calcutta, took her departure from Madras Roads, and we were soon well out to sea, where we had hoped to find a cooler atmosphere ; but there was scarcely any breeze, and the sun — sufficiently hot and powerful to render the deck exceedingly un- comfortable in the day-time — soon dispelled all our visions of a plea- sant voyage, and caused us to regret not having availed ourselves of the mail-steamer, which stops nowhere m route, and, therefore, makes the trip in half the time we had before us. The ' Burmah,' belonging to the British-India Steam-ship Com- pany, is a fine vessel of 1050 tons, with large and roomy cabins, and a most elaborately ornamented saloon ; but, there were two great ob- stacles to my comfort, for which no amount of gilding could com- pensate : — the bath-room was out of order, and not available ; and the tea was literally abominable : — otherwise, we could find no fault with anything. Eaily on the 15th we anchored oflf Masulipatam, but the low, sandy coast — at least two miles distant — was not of sufficiently in- viting appearance to induce us to land. The jungle, in the back- ground, seemed very thick, and crowded with palmyra-palms. Here we remained for a few hours, during which the heat was so oppressive, that it was quite a relief to get under-weigh again in the afternoon. Ke-xt day, we arrived at Coconada, one of the coaling-stations of the Steam-ship Company, where there was an unpleasant and protract- ed delay, while the vessel took in her supply of fuel. Very similar in appearance to Masulipatam, though o'l much less extent, Cocona- da is a most uninteresting spot, with a flat, dreary shore, scorched by the fervid rays of a tropic sun, and a thick, almost repulsive- looking forest of palms behind it. As in the former case, we ancliored a long way from land ; the coal being brought to us in Large native boats. A few hours' steaming, aflcr leaving Coconada, and we reached Vizagapatam, which presents a remarkable contrast to the remainder of the coast. It is a very pretty place, situated at the base of two pic- turesque hills, which are divided from one another by a sort of es- tuary, whence an attractive-looking road, dotted with houses, and or- namented with trees, extends to Waltair, the pleasant suburb of this 8 well-known station. In the course of tlie two succeeding days, the vessel stopped, for a short time, off Bimlipatam, and, also, oft" Gopaulpore. The former is a nice-looking little town, Leing enshrined amidst palmyras, at the foot of a curious red hill, apparently almost destitute of vegetation ; but Goyiaulpore is simply a wretched group of houses, deposited on the burning sand, which extends like a desert on three sides of it. About noon on the 19th, we found ourselves at the light-ship, ort" the Sandhcads, and were speedily steaming up the muddy waters of the Ilooghly. The pilot came on board soon afterwards, and we made ^'ood progress, even against ebb-tide, until sunset compelled us to anchor for the n'glit. I^ext morning we were under-weigh again at sunrise, and arrived at Gardiu Reach about two o'clock in the after- noon. Here the pilot left us, and a harboiir-master arrived, who took the steanicr very cleverly, sfern-farcmosf, to her moorings, opposite the city : there being a law, I understand, prohibiting vessels from going up the river, at flood-tide, in the ordinary fashion. In days not very long gone by, the approach to Calcutta was con- sidered one of the most superb views in India, and the beauty of the river at Garden Roach was renowned both far and near. Now, aJas, although the city stands there striking and impressive as it was of yore ; though the forest of masts and crowds of shipping still surprise the visitor, v\hen they first burst upon his sight; and, though the Botanic Gardens yet adorn the vicinity, with their noble trees and brilliant flowers ; the charm of absolute loveliness, which it once pos- sessed in full perfection, has passed away from Garden Reach for ever! The ahnost niatchlei«s grounds of Str Lawrence Peel, which were, without doubt, the crowning beauty of this locality, no longer glad- den the eye with their rich attractions ; and the tawdry, unsightly palace of the ex-king of Oudo has risen, in its ignoble ugliness, to re- place the most exquisite residence in India. Calcutta afforded a pleasant change after the dull, stupid capital of the Madras Presidency, and we gladly hailed the appearance of life and vigour which, comparatively speaking, seems to characteriic the more northern ciiy. The weather, too, was very agreeable, and com- fortably cool, even in the day-tinie, so that we were enabled to drive about at all hours without inconvenience. The streets, in the ' City of Palaces,' are abundantly watered, to which, no doubt, much of theit" coolness was owing, and, during our stay of about a week, I never saw any dust. The grass, also, pos- sessed a greenness, even in the heart of the town, that was quite sur- prising, and, on the slopes of Fort William, it was as brilliant as an English swal-d in spring-time. One morning, we took a dinghee, and went down, with the tide, to the Royal Botanic Gardens, where we remained for some time. The grounds are extensive, and well kept, though they still shew very strongly the disastrous effects of the cyclone of 1864. I was much gratified by a sight of the world- renowned trees oi' Amherst la nohiJis, albeit the bloom had only just commenced. They suffered terribly in the great storm above referred to, and it will be many years before they re-attain their former splendour. The gardeners assured us that the Amherstia never produces seed in Calcutta, hence I suppose the climate does not entirely suit it. The celebrated Jonesia asorlic road by trees of Poinciann reyia, Plmnieriu a/A« and Poinciana piilchfrrhna — certainly a gloriou.? combination of splendour, sweetness and elegance. Between Sahibgunge and Monghyr, we passed close to Colgong, and had a good view of the two tnormous rocks, for which the place is celebrated. They are picturescpie objects, and would, doubtless, well repay a visit. We also travelled thnnigh the Monghyr Tunnel — the only one on the present line of the East Indian Railway. Keturning to Jumalpore on the morning of the 2nd, our spare time was devoted to tlie inspection of the rail way- works, which are very extensive and interesting, comprising, it is said, all the recjuisites for the repair of machinery for the whole line. A handsome town is fast springing up at this station, which is well situated, and reputed to be very healthy ; and even now, it possesses a number of fine dwelling-houses, and wears an appearance of prosperity and comfort, tliat speaks well for the enterprise and energy of the company, under whose auspices, a- lone, the native village that once occupied the site, has been replaced by tliis thriving and successful ' Railway City." From Jumalpore, we proceeded to Bankipore, the civil-station of Patna, and arrived in about four hours and a half. There being no Irutel, we occupied the dak- bungalow, which, although not so cleaa le so pleasant as that at Saliibgunge, was much more fortunate in its khansamah, whose sujjplies were good, and cookery unexceptionable. Ihe place is pretty, and abounds in trees — amongst them some noble specimens of the various Indian figs — wliich cast a pleasant shade over the parched and thirsty roads, that, seemingly, had not been visited by the slightest moisture for many weeks before. Numerous fields of white poppies fPapaver sommfernm) were in full blossom, and some beautiful Bauhinius, laden with flowers, contrasted grace- fully with the dense green of the surrounding trees. Cultivation, in this locality, is as complete as in many parts of England, and there is little jungle to be seen — even the sand-banks of the Ganges appear to furnish their quota of vegetable productions. There is a pleasant n)aidan, which, in common with the roads, seemed to be suffering from want of rain, though it was green and grateful to the eye, and sufficiently large to be cool and airy, as compared with the remainder of the station. S , who was at Eankipore about nine years ago, says the place is much altered in appearance, chiefly in consequence of the removal of an old fort, and some variation in the course of the river. During the journey from Jumalpore, we saw immense fields of wheat, and barley, dholl, (Cojunus IndicnsJ poppies, and other crops, in such flourishing condition as to attest, in the strongest manner, the great fertility of the soil. The face of the country, for the most part, is an extended plain, wonderfully level, and so vast that we could only see the tops of the trees in the distance, just as one observes the royals and upper gear of a ship at sea, when her hull is below the horizon. The cotton-trees became fewer as we got further from the coast, but, every now and then, their crimson blossoms blazed out from the scattered masses of jungle, intensified in colour by the contrast with the green. Towards evening we walked to Patna, through the narrow, dusty and foul -smelling suburb that connects the native city with Banki- pore ; and returned to the duk-bungalow by the same route, fully sa- tisfied that such a performance would scarcely bear repetition undrt- >1 any circumstances. Next day we liired a gliarri and drove to Dinapore, a distance of about six miles over a good road, tolerably well shaded with trees. There is nothing interesting in the place, which is a large millitary station, and it has no pretensions to beauty of any kind. S was astonished to find that the Ganges had entirely altered its course since 1858. The main stream, which then ran close to the station, is now at least three quarters of a mile further north, and, over its original bed, there is nothing now but a shallow and narrow branch. On our return we ascended to the summit of tlie curious, old, semicircular grain-store, called the Ghola, whence an extended view of the country rewarded us for a toiKsome climb up the winding staircase in the great heat of the sun. CHAPTER III. From Banlvipore we went to Benares — by the branch -line of rail from Mogul Serai — but did not reach the station at the Rajghat until after ten o'clock at night on the 4th March. From this, we had still to find our way to Secrole, the European portion of the town, a distance of fully four miles. Only one gharri was available, and it loolced so old and shaky, that we very much doubted whether it would hold together even for half the way. However, there was no option, and, fortunately, the vehicle fulfilled, in the most satisfactory manner, the promise of its driver, for we were safely deposited at the dak-bungalow shortly after midnight. This establishment proved to have only one small ro(jm unoccupied, which, as it was much too laie to go hotel-hunting, we were fain to be content with. Accordingly, once more accommodating ourselves to circumstances, we took possession of the two charpoys, which were luckily available, and 'turned in.' Such a night as we passed ! All the mosquitos in Christendom, and out of it, seemed to have assembled at this wretched bungalow, and sleep was utterly im- possible. I counted the weary hours, as they rolled slowly by, and experienced a sensation of very positive relief, when the first light of morning peeped through the jilmils of the dismal and insect-haunted apartment. After breakfast we explored the ' holy city,' called Kasi by the Hindoos, which is interesting from the fact of its being one of the oldest in India, and the very centre of Braminical superstition. It is an immense place, and the streets are the narrowest I ever walked through ; they were, however, much cleaner than I expected, though crowded witli people. The temples, which I saw, did not strike me as 13 being: very attractive, and I certainly would not care to pay them a second visit. The view of the city, also, from the river — here six hundred yards in width — though imposing, scarcely realizes, in my opinion, the descriptions of travellers. Between BaTdciporc and Benares, about four miles above the station of Bilita, we crossed the fiimous Soune Bridge, which is nearly a mile in length, and, according to Newman and Go's. ^E I. Raihvaij Hmid- looh,' * consists of twenty-eight spans of one hundred and fifty feet each, the foundations being sunk to an average depth of ihirty-two feet below lo\>-water level. The bed of this immense river consists wholly of shifting sands, which offered great engineering difficulties in the construction of the bridge. During this journey, also, we crossed the river Kurumnassa, the boundary between Bengal and the North- West Provinces, about five hundred miles distant from Calcutta. Benares is celebrated for its kincob, a species of gold brocade, and its lacquered toys, which, along with other eastern manufactures, are exhibited for sale in nearlv all the bazaars. The botanic garden is extrpniely beautiful, and, at the time of our visit, notwithstanding the uncongenial season, abounded in fiowers. Leaving Benares in the afternoon of the 5th March, we re-crossed the awkward and somewhat shaky bridge of boats, which separates the city from the railway-station, and proceeded, by the branch-line to Mogul Serai, where we had to wait for the up- train, until our patience was entirely exhausted. It came at last, however, two hours beyond time, and we resumed our journey considerably after midnight, arriving at Allahabad early next morning. Here, the train makes a lengthened stoppage, enabling the traveller not only to get a chota hazree, but to take a hasty look at the more prominent features of the place as well. Allahabad is situated at the confluence of the Jumna and the Gan- ges, and is considered, by the Hindoos, as even more holy than Be- nares. It is a large and extensive place, and the recently-founded sta- tion adjoining it, called Canningtown, promises to be one of the most * No trayeller should visit Bengal or the North-West Provinces without this indispensable 'Hand-booh,' published by Messrs. Newman and Co : Calcutta : it is most accurate and reliable. u important cities in the North- West Provinces. The fort was bnik hv the great Akbar, and is very larpe, being about a mile and a half round. It stands at the point of junction of the two huge rivers, whose waters pass close to its red-sandstone walls, and contains, amongst other celebrities, an underground passage, which is reputed to com- municate with p, small subterranean temple, in which grows a tama- rind tree ; but I cannot ascertain that any one ever penetrated to this mysterious building, or saw the wonderful tree alluded to. The Knsh- ru Gardens, with their noble wall and other structures, are said to be well worthy of a visit, but I cannot speak from personal experience, as we did not go near them. The Jumna is here an enormous stream, and it is spanned by one of the largest latticed iron-girder bridges in the world, in sinking the piers for which, the engineers, as in the case of the Soane, had tre- mendous difficulties to contend with. About noon we reached Cawnpore, which is, without exception, the dustiest place I have seen in India. Houses, trees, grass, everything, were alike covered with it, and, whatever the component parts of the atmosphere may be elsewhere, at Cawnpore a large proportion must be pulverized grey kunkur. The place wore, during our visit, in conse- quence of this unsightly dust, a desolate and dilapidated aspect, which, probably, in the rains, when the streets have been washed, and the vegetation, scanty as it is, revived by the genial moisture, it does not present. There is a straggling, native town of considerable size- much cleaner than such places generally are — and a bazaar that is worth inspection ; also a canal, the water of which was grateful to the eye amidst the glare of the forlorn and unpleasant streets. Utterly without interest in itself, Cawnpore yet possesses a mourn- ful attraction, as the scene of the cruelest and most savage act of the great mutiny of 1857 ; and the ' cemetery-garden,' which surrounds the exquisite structure erected to the memory of those who fell on the fatal 1 5th July, will scarcely fail, as long as one vestige of it remains, to strike home to every British heart, with its tale of woe and misery. In truth, there is no moie solemn sight, in all the wide extent of this huge country, than the ' Memorial of Cawnpore ; ' no spot, possessing such sad and niclanclioly associations, as tho gravo-yard that encloses it ; and none, which so fully calls forth the deepest and most earnest feelings of pity and horror, not unmingled with regret, tliat tlie foulest massacre recorded in the page of history, should have been but so feebly and partially avenged. He must be cold, indeed, who can look unmoved upon the grassy mound, beneath which sleep the victims of that dreadful day ; and there are few Englishmen, who, standing on this blood-dyed spot, can recall to mind the savage deed perpetrated by that atrocious fiend, the Nana, without a shuddering horror taking possession of their souls, and an angry feeling springing up in their heal is, that, had it power to develop itself into action, would almost sweep from off the face of the earth, the cowardly and barbarous race, which could plan and carry out such wholesale slaughter of helpless women and children. It would almost seem as if these sacred precincts possessed an im> munity from the dust, which elsewhere in the vicinity lies in great heavy masses ; but the visitor, ere he has gone a dozen yards within its gates, is struck with the greenness and beauty of the * cemetery- garden,' where sweet English flowers are blooming in all the loveli- ness of their own peerless land, amidst the beautiful and imposing cy- presses, whose sombre foliage sheds a solemn gloom over the grave of the murdered ones, even under the torriil sun of ' red Cawnpore.' CHAPTER IV. On tlie morning of the 7tli March we went to Luclaiow in a dak- gharri, a distance of forty-nine miles, whicli was completed in eight Lours. The drive is a most uninteresting one, over a monotonous- looking and dusty plain, and tedious and wearisome in the extreme, owing to the wretclied cattle which are employed. Fortunately, the road is most excellent ; othf?rwise, it is difficult to V)elieve how the jour- ney could be accomplished with such badly-appointed vehicles. One miserable pony, in our case, had to drag the heavy gharri, witli our- selves and the driver, and sometimes also the syce as well, for a stage of between seven and eight miles.* At Cawnpore we crossed the Ganges by a capital pontoon-bridge, and, thenceforward, our route lay through the province ofOude, of which Lucknow, situated on the River Goomtee, is the chief town. Before entering the city the celebrated Alumbagli presents itself to the visitor, and, in the gardens, near the road, is the tomb of Sir Henry Havelock, who died at the Dilkooshah, on tlie 24th November 1857. Here, also, are tablets to the memory of some of the officers who fell during the famous march of the relieving column from Allahabad. The appearance of Lucknow is very imposing, and no other city that I have seen in India, approaches it in either beauty or siilendour. It is thoroughly eastern in character, and abounds in picturesque build- ings which, even now, disfiguretl and vlamaged as they all are, can scarcely fail to strike the traveller with delight and admiration. What the place was before the mutiny I can only conjecture, but it must * Since this was written the railway between the two places has been opennd, 17 lave been truly magnificent — surpassed, probably, by few other cities in the world. Now, however, its splendour is on the wane, and the glory of its glittering, gilded domes and tapering minarets, is fast dis- apj^earing before tlie devastating hand of time; while its oriental ar- chitecture is rapidly being replaced by modem buildings of undeniably European pattern, horribly inappropriate, and plainly significant of the Anglo-Saxon, who, all- conquering though he may be, is sadly devoid of taste in many things. Lucknow is celebrated for the purity of its atmosphere, and, if the weather we experienced was a fair sample of its climate, there are, I should tliink, few places in India that can boast such a brilliant and pleasant ' cold season.' Our first visit, the morning after our arrival, was to the Kaiserbagh, that magnificent pile of palaces, built during the reign of the ex-king, which is said to have cost the enormous sum of eighty lakhs. Its beauty has been sadly marred since Oude became a British province, and its golden domes will soon have passed away like the dynasty of its founder. The Kaiserbagh consists chiefly of a number of rectangu- lar gardens, opening into one another, and diversified by pavilions, avenues, and lesser courts ; the whole enclosed by an extended mass of elegant buildings, which, though said to be irregular in an architec- tural point of view, are yet beautiful in detail, and magnificent in ge- neral effect. They are yellow in hue, and surmounted by many gil- ded domes, cupolas, and other glittering ornaments, which render them strikingly grand in the sunlight, when viewed at a moderate distance. The entrances to the great quadrangle consist of noble gateways, a- bounding, like the rest of the structures, in profuse decoration. But the ])lace has now a forlorn and deserted look. Tlie gardens are all but destroyed. The brilliant ornaments and statuary have been removed or defaced. Many of the buildings appear to be rapidly going to ruin ; others have degenerated into shops, and we even saw, in several in- stances, tlie whilom splendid residences of royalty, turned into filthy kitchen- like apartments, where native grooms were occupied in boil- ing gram ! Next, we proceeded to La Martini^re, or Constantia, an extraordi- 18 nary and lofty structure, which was erected by an eccentric Frenclnnan, named Claude Martine, who came to India a private- soldier, and died a major-general in the service of Ast'-o-Dowlah. It is ornamented pro- fusely with gigantic and grotesque statues, which, I was told, our troops mistook for rebels during the advance, and fired at repeatedly, wondering why they could neither kill nor rout them. Martine left funds, at his death, for the endowment of this building as a school, to which purpose they were faithfully applied. The interior is now much disfigured and damaged, but it must liave been, in its early days, of great beauty ; and abundance of ornament still remains to attest the care and expense devoted to its decoration. Some of the dormitorios, which we saw, were in the upper stories, and appeared to be airy and very comfortable. Nearly two hundred boys are here provided with a good, practical education, free of expense; so that General Martine's bequest has resulted in much benefit to the community, and his wishes have been honestly and worthily carried out. Within the grounds, in the centre of a tank, is a tall column, seemingly built solely for orna- ment : there is no staircase or means of ascent ; and 1 could not learn its height. General Martine's remains were buried inside this edifice, in com- pliance with his own directions, induced, it is said, by the belief that the kinjr would not otherwise permit his wishes regarding the disposal of the building to be fulfdled. Immunity from tlip ajiprehended con- fiscation was secured by s'.v-h an orrangemont, which rendered the place sacred in the eyes oi" all devout followers of Mahomed, but it would appear that the rcV.els of 1857 were not influenced by the same fieeling of respect for the general's tomb, as the vault was broken open, and its contents scattered — probably by Hindoos. During the siege of the Eesidency, the pupils of La Martiniere rendered much assistance to the beleagured garrison — many of them even participating in tlie de- fence of tl.vj various buildings. From La Martiniere we drove to the Great Iniaumbarra, the hall of which is reputed to l>e the largest in the world. It has now degenerated into an arsenal, and, in cominon with the other buildings in Lucknow, has suffered terribly from the sad ravages of war. We are told that, 19 after it was taken, tlie magnificent chandelier?, mirrors, etc., which or- namented the interior, were totally destroyed by the victorious troops, and broken into such pieces, that the marble floor was covered to the depth of several inches with their fragments. The great hall, according to a recent work, is a hundred and sixty-two feet long, by fifty-three feet, six inches in width ; the verandahs, on either side, are each twen- ty-six feet, six inches, by twenty-seven feet, three inches; and, at both ends, there are octagonal chambers fifty-three feet in diameter; the Avhole interior dimensions are thus two hundred and sixty three feet by one hundred and forty-five. It was built by the Nawab Asf-o- Dowlah, who is said to have spent nearly a million of money in its construction, and to have imposed no other conditions on the archi- tect than that the building should be unique in its design, and that it should exceed any otb'^^" of the kind in splendour. Inside the court, stands a large mosque with lofty minars, from the top of one of which, we had a grand view of the city aid its environs. There are numerous other places of interest and beauty in Lucknow, but that possessing most attraction for Europeans is unquestionably the Residency, celebrated as the scene of many a gallant deed, as well as of the most extraordinary siege that ever occurred. Nothing but ruins now remain, though, I believe, every care is being taken to pre- serve them from all further damage at the hands of man. The grave- yard is kept in beautiful order, and the monuments and tombstones abound in names which are as familiar to Englishmen as household words. But there is one plain, white, marble slab, that is surpassing in its interest to the traveller. The simplicity of its inscription is most touching, and it was with feelings of the deepest reverence, that I stood at tliat honoured grave, and read the unpretending words : HERE LIES HENRY LAWRENCF, WHO TRIED TO DO HIS UUTT. ■ May the Lord have mercy ou his soul. CHAPTER V. We returned to Cawnpore early on the morning of the 9th March, thoroughly weary of the wretched dSk, which occup! ;d no fewer than nine liours ; and glad enough to find that there was still some pros- pect of a short interval of rest before the departure of the train, by which we had arranged to continue our journey westward. The Imperial Hotel at Lucknow, where we stayed, is, without ex- ception, the best and cheapest establishment of the kind — considering its superior accommodation— that I have met with in the country. The building itself is a fine one, and the dining-hall a really magnifi- cent apartment. I cannot say quite so much for that in which we resided at Cawnpore, though it was quiet, clean, and otherwise toler- ably satisfactory — even to charges, which we found sufficiently mo- derate. Our next stopping- place was Agra, where we arrived about dusk, by a branch- line from Toondla Station, having left Cawnpore shortly after ten o'clock in the forenoon. Agra, the capital city of the great Akbar, is scarcely suggestive, in its present state, of the magnificence that once characterized it, and it is somewhat difficult to realize the fact, that the existing desolate and ruinous- looking town was ever so glorious as described. Nevertheless, there is no place in India so worthy of a visit, for it contains, in ad- dition to many other relics of departed splendour, the world-renowned Taj Mahal. From the railway-station to the dak -bungalow is a long drive, du- ring which we crossed the Jumna by a bridge of boats, and it was al- most dark before we arrived. Our first visit was to the Fort, which is a conapicuouB object, from 21 the colour and height of Its red -sandstone, battlemented walls. Tliough in itself very interesting, from its antiquity and beauty, there are, within it, so many buildings of more attraction to the visitor, that it scarcely ever receives its just amount of attention ; and, as our time was not very abundant, we followed in the steps of previous tourists, and afforded it only a hasty inspection, devoting ourselves chiefly to the examination of the Emperor's Palace, and the celebrated Motee Musjid. The former, once of exceeding beauty, is now fast going to ruin, not so much from the effects of time, as from the wanton des- truction, with which it seems to have been visited by human hands. The traveller, as he passes through the deserted chambers and corri- dors, cannot fail to be impressed with this fact, or to experience a strong feeling of regret, as he contemplates the exquisite in-laid work, mutilated and destroyed, and robbed of the greater portion of the pre- cious stones that rendered it, in its palmy days, one blaze of jewelled splendour. Nearly the whole structure is composed of white marble, most beautifully sculptured, and much of it consists of open screen- work, wonderfully wrought in strikingly rich designs. A number of the pavilions over-hang the Jumna, which flows past the walls seventy feet below, and their carved-marble balustrades, when seen from the river, are said to resemble fringes of the finest lace. But, perhaps, the most brilliant apartment in this wilderness of splendour, is the Shish Mahal, a bath-chamber, of which the interior is covered with small mirrors, disposed in curious and graceful figures. In the midst stands a marble basin, so arranged, that the water, which supplied it, passed in a sort of mimic cataract over an array of blazing lamps. The walls were also illuminated, and the general effect must have been beautiful. The gardens, with their perfumed trees and flowers, the glittering fountains, and the tessellated, marble court-yards, all dis- ))layed a corresponding style of magnificent ornamentation, and ren- dered this superb palace of the Great Moguls almost matchless in its splendour. Indeed, in the zenith of its pride and glory, it must truly have rivalled, " that city of delight In Fairy-Land, whose streets and towers Are made of gems and light and flowers ! " 22 Connected with the palace is a long series of underground apart- ments, with very narrow passages between them, which are said to have some communication with the Taj, but no outlet has yet been found, and the distance between the two buildings stamps the legend with great improbability. From the palace we proceeded to the Dewan-i-aum, or the Judg- ment-seat of Akbar, a large hall, chiefly remarkable for its great size, and now used as an armoury, in which glittering bayonets and sabres are disposed amidst numbers of banners and flags with a taste reflec- ting great credit on the arranger. Here may be seen the throne of the great Emperor, and, also, the famous gates of Somnauth, taken by Lord Ellenborough in the Afghan campaign. They are very large, curiously carved, and made wholly of sandal- wood. Next the Motee Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, claimed our attention. This graceful structure, which Mr. Bayard Taylor declared to be abso- lutely perfect, rests upon the summit of a massive red- sandstone platform, and consists of a corridor, open on the side next the en- trance, divided into three parts by marble arches, and surmounted by as many domes of the same elegant material. The whole building is enclosed by a high wall of red -sandstone, above which only the snowy domes are seen from the outside. The mosque itself is altogether composed of white marble, entirely without ornament, yet so exquisitely proportioned, and so exceedingly beautiful, that it well merits the strongest eulogy passed upon it by travellers. It was erected by Shah Jehan in 1656. After this we drove to the wonderful Taj Mahal, which was built by the same monarch, in memory of his wife Noor Jehan — ' The Light of the World' — who is said to have been of surpassing loveli- ness. " The one, whose smile shone out alone, Amidst a world the only one ; Whose light, among so many lights, Was like that star on starry nights, The seaman singles from the sky, To steer his bark for ever by 1 " 23 This noble tomb stands inside a large quadrangle, whicli measures eighteen hundred and sixty feet by a thousand, and is enclosed by red -sandstone walls, with fine gateways of the same material. The grounds are ornamented with beautiful trees and splendid flowers, as well as numerous fountains, and an avenue of cypresses casts a wel- come shade over the paved pathway leading from the principal en- trance to a marble platform, whence a flight of steps communicates with the large terrace — three hundred and thirteen feet square — on which rests the Taj itself. At the four corners of this terrace are minarets, about a hundred and fifty feet in height ; and, on either side of the great structure, stand beautiful mosques of red-sandstone, which, we are told, were placed there to enhance, by contrast, the su- perb grandeur of the main building. The shape of the Taj is that of an irregular octagon, and it is sur- mounted by an immense dome, supported by four smaller structures of the same hind, and decorated with a number of diminutive minarets. Tlie height of the building, from the terrace to the gilt crescent at the summit of the dome, is said to be two hundred and ninety-six-feet, by the author of ' From Calcutta to the Snowy Range,' who adds that it occupies a square, with the corners cut ofi^, of a hundred and eighty- six feet. The terrace, the minarets, and the building itself, are all of the purest wjiite niarble, which is perfectly dazzling in the sunlight. No description can do justice to, or convey an adequate idea of the beauty of this wonderful structure, which is reputed, and, I should think, with truth, to be unequalled in the world. Suflice it to say that it is superbly inlaid with precious stones, disposed in beautiful tlcvices, and abounds in the most exquisite sculptured work imagi- nable. A vault beneath contains the tombs of Shah Jehan and his lovely consort, while, in the body of the building, enclosed by an oc- tagonal, marble screen, are the outer sarcophagi, or monuments, also • if white marble, of the most perfect and elaborate workmanship, and ])rofusely inlaid with gems. Some doubt seems to exist as to the architect, whose genius planned and executed this marvellous work of art, though it is said that his name is somewhere inscribed upon the edifice. But the prevailing opinion appears to be that tlie honour 24 belongs to the same illustrious Frenchman — Austin de Bordeux— who constructed the celebrated Peacock Throne, and whom the natives called 'the wonderful of the age.* It was commenced — so say the chroniclers — in 1 630, occupied seventeen years in building, and cost three millions of money. It was with diflSculty that we tore ourselves away from the contem- plation of this matchless structure, which is literally so perfect that it rarely fails to excite in the beholder, deeper and nobler feelings than those of mere admiration or surprise. Writing, as I do now, with my thoughts full of its glorios, it seems to me that I have gained an ad- vantage over those of my fellow-men, who have not had the good for- tune to behold it ; and I would almost say that he who has not seen the Taj Mahal, can scarcely realize the extent of beauty, combined with grandeur, which the hand of man is capable of creating. Curious to hear the echo for which the Taj is celebrated, a^d de- sirous, also, of seeing the building by night, we arranged an expedi- tion thither after sunset, and obtained the services of an ancient Mus- sulman — Mogul Khan, the ' Bard of Agra ' — whom we met with accidentally, and who, strangely enough, performs admirably upon the harp, as minstrel for the occasion. His instrument is of the Irish pattern, and the history of it, and his power of using it, is somewhat curious. It would appear that, many years ago, he was attached to the household of a gentleman who was an excellent harpist, and who, seeing that his Mussulman retainer waa fond of music, not only made him a present of the instrument, but taught him to play it. As it grew dark we started from the dSk- bungalow, and, by the time that we reached the Taj , the moon, in her first quarter, was of just sufficient brightness to shew us the noble outline of the building, standing out dimly from the blue sky beyond. Its very indistinct- ness added a mysterious beauty to the already fairy scene, and, as we walked slowly down the solemn avenue of cypresses, which leads to the entrance* of the majestic pile, and drank in the perfumed air, heavy with the odours of jasmine, orange and citron, it seemed as if indeed we had at last arrived at the realization of some of those most gorgeous fancies, which poets have, from time immemorial, associated with this 25 orient land. Rich gushes of fragrance met us at every step, ami " many a perfume brcath'd From plants that wake when others sloop, From timid jasmine buds, that keep Their odour to themselves all day, But, when the sun-light dies away, Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about." The old ' Bard of Agra ' wolce the famed echoes of the dome with his harp, hut the effect fell short of my anticipations — prol)al)ly, be- cause I had hoped for too much. After this, we lit up the hiiildino; with l)lue lights, and beheld it in another phase of its marvellous glory, while the old minstrel added music to com[)lete the enchantment, which seemed to reign around us. Finally, about half-way down the avenue, we stopped to take another long, lingering look at the exterior, by the faint light of the raoon and stars, and thus said farewell to the almost overwhelming beauty of the wondrous Taj. About seven miles from Agra is the village of Sccundra, where stands the mausoleum of the great Akbar. Independently of its his- torical interest, the size of the buidinp, the magnificence of its archi- tecture, and the beauty of the carvings, etc., render it well worthy of a visit, and we spent an agreeable forenoon in the examination of its many attractions. The upper story is constructed of white marble, and the remainder, ;is well as the wall which encloses the gardens, of red-sandstone. There are many fine trees within the great quadrangle, as well as tanks and fountains, and broad, paved causeways lead to the mausoleum itself from the huj:e gates, which occupy the centre of each of the four sides. In a vault below is the plain, unadorned tomb, con- taining the ashes of the mighty and renowned Akbar, but, on the summit of the mausoleum, as is customary, a more elaborate mo- nument of exquisite, white marble, most beautifully sculptured with Arabic characters, holds the place of honour. This latter is enclosed by a marble screen of magnificent open tracery, abounding in various and beautiful designs, executed with most marvellous skill and taste. The edifice is, otherwise decorated with domes, cupolas, and ornamental galleries, in tolerable preservation, but the once beautiful minarets, at 26 the great entrance are no longer perfect, having had their tops de- stroyed and rennoved. This stupendous mausoleum occupies the space of aljout three hundred and fifty square yards, and its height is said to be a hundred feet. Scores of green parrakeets (Puhrornis ior- (/uaiusj seem to have taken up their residence within tiie gardens, in company with large numbers of turtle-doves — the common Turtur risoria — whose plaintive notes literally filled the air during the period of our visit. From the Secundra Bagh, we proceeded to the building which once contained xhc tomb of the Begum Maire, but, although the empty sar- cophagus in the upper story still exists, we could find no traces of the lower one. The place is now a printing-establishment, attaclied to the Orphanage of the Church Mission. Agra, amongst its other notabilities, is famed for its manufactures of inlaid marble-work, and beautifully carved soapstone ornaments, which are to be had in great profusion, and at remarkably low prices, either from the hawkers, who take them round for sale, or at the lapi- daries' own residences. To the latter, I would recommend travellers to go, for the workmen, themselves, are not, I think, such consum- mate impostors as the regular traders, and their wares — equally good, of course — are generally to be had at lower rates. Our time being limited, we were obliged to leave this most interest- ing city, without seeing the celebrated ruins of Futtehpore Sickri, which are distant about twenty-three miles, on the road to Jeypore. They are very extensive and magnificent, worthy, it is said, in every respect, of being associated with the illustrious name of Akbar, who has left behind him such a reputation for power, wisdom and glory. Before bidding adieu to Agra, I must bear testimony to the excel- lence of the d^k- bungalow, or rather, to that of its khansamah; an aged Mussulman, who made us exceedingly comfortable, and charged us at very reasonable rates. CHAPTER VI. We left Agra on the afternoon of tlie 1 2th March, and arrived at Delhi about midnight, when we at once drove to the dak-bungalow — a good building, but badly supplie<], and very dirty ; in spite of which, liowevcr, it seems to be much employed, for, during our stay, it was quite full of travellers. Early next morning we began our exploration of the city and its environs, visiting, first, the Roshunara Bagh, an immense garden, containing, according to the author of ' From Calcutta to the Snow// lianr/e,' almost every known Indian tree ; but it is now a wild, jungley- looking place, abounding in weeds, and evidently fast lapsing into a wilderness. Here I tasted, for the first time, a juicy and pleasant liuit, not unlike a yellow plum in appearance, which the natives call- ed ber. It was a variety of the jvyube, (Zizyphus jnjnha) but so vastly superior in flavour and size to the produce of the ordinary kind, that I could scarcely credit their specific identity. The present city of Delhi, or Shahjehanabad, was built by the Em- peror Shah Jehan, about the middle of the seventeenth century. It is rather less than six miles in girth, and is enclosed by a machico- lated wall, adorned with a number of gates, some of which are of rare magnificence. All round it lie the ruins of the various ancient cities, which flourished at diflferent intervals of time, within a radius of about ten miles of the present site. Like Lucknow, Delhi is fast beconiing modernized, and the once famous capital of the great Mogul Empire will shortly have subsided into an ordinary town, with European cha- racteristics, and but little to remind one of its former magnificence and illustrious history. Besides the antiquities of the place — most of them well worthy of 28 inspeotion--there are some beautiful public-gardens, an excellent and interesting museum, at the Delhi Institute, in the Ghandney Ghowk — which, by the way, is the largest street, and one of the celebrities of the city— and lastly, the splendid iron, latticed-girder railway- bridge across the Jumna, which consists of twelve spans of two hundred and live feet each. The Jumma Musjid, which has the reputation of being the finest mosque in India, is erected on the summit of an eminence, that lifts it considerably above the surrounding buildings, and renders it the most striking edifice in the city. The immense platform — so to speak — at the west side of which standi the mosque, is paved with red- sandstone, and is accessible by three gateways, and as many broad flights of steps, from the remaining sides. The building is constructed uf red-sandstone, but it is profusely ornamented and relieved by white marble, even to the minars, which rise to the height of a hundred and thirty feet on either side. The domes are also of white marble, with gilt spires, affording an elegant contrast to the red stone of the lower parts. A colonnade of red-sandstone extends along the three remain- ing sides of the quadrangle ; and, in the centre, is a marble tank or reservoir for water. We ascended to the summit of one of the minars, and enjoyed a great view of the immense modern city, as well as the vast extent uf ruins, which stretch for a long distance in every direction. Before leaving the precincts of the musjid, I was shewn several ve- nerable books, amongst which was an illuminated copy of the Koran, said to be seven hundred years old. These treasures were carefully wrapped in many folds of silk, and securely kept in a large chest, redolent of attar of roses, and the almost oppressive fragrance of sulman tombs ; but it is sadly damaged in many parts, and wears a ■look of decay, which I had not expected from the accounts I had read. Inside the walls, there is an extensive garden, surrounding the mau- soleum, but it, too, appears uncared for, and, in places, is now little better than a rank jungle. On some of the many ancient buildings that surround the present City of Delhi, in various stages of decay and ruin, I was struck by the vivid hue of the blue tiles, which have suffered but little from the ele- ments, and are, apparently, as bright and rich in colour as when they 30 were first manufactured. Other places of interest absorbed all our remaining time, so that we were unable to visit the great Kootub Minar — eleven miles from the city — which is supposed to be the loftiest structure of its kind in the world. The author of * From Calcutta to the Snowy Range ' in- forms us that it is built of red-sandstone, and is twelve feet in diameter at the top, and forty-eight feet, four inches at the bottom. He adds that its height, at present, is two hundred and forty-two feet, but that the upper part or cupola, was removed some years ago, in consequence of its having been struck with lightning.* The history of its erection is lost in obscurity, though there are several accounts quoted by vari- ous authorities, which profess to describe its origin ; they are, however, only legends, upon which much dependence cannot be placed. In its neighbourhood are quantities of ruins, and, amongst them, a portion of an unfinished minar of much greater size than the Kootub. These ruins are supposed to be the remains of the Hindoo Prithie Rajah's palace, and are stated to date from the end of the twelfth century. Many other relics of the past exist at this interesting place, and de- serve a careful examination from the traveller. Dellii is celebrated for its paintings on ivory, silk scarfs, jewellery and many other articles, which are plentifully exhibited at the shops in the Chandney Chowk, and, also, by the hawkers, who discover a new- arrival with the most astonishing rapidity, and collect round the place where he may be residing, in a very short space of time. The visitor — if he wishes to avoid expending his rupees — had better not inspect these attractive wares. During our return journey eastward, we stopped for a portion of a day at Mirzapore, which is, I think, the most uninteresting of the many places we have seen. With the exception ofsome excellent stone carvings at the temples near the river, and ir the shops close by, there was literally nothing worthy of examination, and I gladly left the un- comfortable hotel, swarming with niosquitos, even tor the heat and dust of the railway-train. A dSk- bungalow once existed here, but, * The Kootub hae again been struck by lightning, since my visit to Delhi, and its ascent ia now, I understand, prohibited. 31 unforlanately, it has been superseded by the hotel I refer to, which we found noisy and unpleasant in the extreme. ■I.-' CHAPTER VII. Journeying by night, to avoid the great heat of the sun, and ma- iling each trip as long as comfort permitted, we reached Sahibgunge on the morning of the 17th March, and, for a time, bade adieu to the East-Indian Railway, on which we had travelled, within nineteen days, a distance of one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-five miles. Du- ring the whole of this time, we experienced the greatest civility and attention from the various officials, with whom we were brought into communication, but especially from the Europeans, and Anglo-In- dians, who certainly seemed to be imbued with the suaviter in modo to a much greater extent than their dusky confreres. I wish I could speak in the same favourable terms of the arrangements along the route for the comfort of passengers ; but these are, in some respects, capable of vast improvement, particularly the stations and refresh- ment-rooms. The former, though spacious enough, are generally dreary and wretched places, badly lit and badly furnished, so that an accidental detention at one of them for some hours is a contingency which no ^ne can contemplate without a shudder ; and the latter would seem to be available only at the actual time of the arrival of the va- rious trains ; thus placing unlucky passengers, whom circumstances may bring to the station ' out of hours,' in much the same plight as Tantalus of old. I speak feelingly on this point, for, having taken the wrong train from Benares, my companion and I arrived some hours too soon at Mogul Serai, and, to our great discomfort and annoyance, fail- ed utterly in our attempts to get a cup of tea or coffee at the refresh- ment-room. If the stations were more comfortable, and the refreshment-rooms available at any hour of the day or night— as I conceive they ought to 33 be to passengeis — a delay of twelve hours would be r^arded with much less horroT than it is at present. However, with all its draw- backs and discomforts, the East- Indian Railway appears to be well managed, and, doubtless, as time goes on, all existing defects, ac- cording as they are discovered, will be remedied. The intolerable heat and the dreadful dust in the dry weather, are, I suppose, un- avoidable, but I cannot help thinking that some measures might be adopted to mitigate their unpleasantness, and the gratitude of passengers thereby largely earned. At present, these two groat evils of Indian railway-travelling, are serious obstacles to even the remotest degree of comfort, and, though the carriages are larger and more airy than the English ones — with double roofs, sun- shades, and Venetian blinds — the traveller, fresh from the experience of European lines and European skies, will find the change the very reverse of pleasant. If the dust could be excluded, night-travel would be rendered compara- tively agreeable to those passengers who are fortunate enough to obtain a berth in one of the admirable contrivances, called * sleeping- carriages,' each one of which literally affords beds for four people. An Indian railway- station, on the arrival or departure of a train, offers a surprising sight to a stranger,especially at certain times of the year, when the Hindoos are flocking to some festival or ceremony con- nected with their religion. The presence of the sturdy, self-possessed and quiet-looking English guard, typical of his nation, alone assures the traveller that he is on British ground, for all round him surges a sea of dusky faces, whose owners are talking, shouting, and creating a babel- like disturbance, perfectly frightful to unaccustomed ears. To specify the va.-ious races, from which this mass of beings is made up, would be a hopeless task ; but four distinct classes stand out promi- nently, from amongst them, to the gaze of the astonished traveller- setting aside the English guard, as apart from and above all this seeth- ing swarm of half-civilized humanity. First, the wretched country-peo- ple, crowding like sheep into the third-class carriages, some quarrel- ling, some exclaiming, others crying, and all, alike, seemingly terror- struck and bewildered; next, the effeminate- looking Bengalee baboo, who, perhaps, rejoices in the authority of station-master; then tlie 34 native policemen, with their hdtons of office, and lastly, the cooly- porters ; all clamouring, more or less, and adding their quota to the general uproar. So great is the confusion, so thick is the crowd, that anything like a subsidence of the former, or a dispersion of the latter, within the time laid down for the departure of the train, seems an impossibility : however, by dint of pushing, driving, swearing and threatening, the wretched third-class passengers are, at last, hustled into the carriages, and locked up ; the idlers clear away ; the bell rings ; the engine shrieks ; and the train is oflf — marvellous to relate — within a moment or so of the appointed hour. These scenes, how- ever, are, I believe, not of constant occurrence, though we beheld them many times during our tour ; in consequence of the number of natives who were hurrying, in their blind idolatry, to the so-called holy shrines of Benares and Allahabad. Whether or not the human natives of India have ceased to look with dread upon the railway-engine, which must still, to many of tliem, be as incomprehensible, as it is wonderful, I am unable to say ; but, tlie bird- natives, generally, seem perfectly familiar with, and re- gardless of its approach ; and not a few of them actually appeared to me as if they came down to the line on purpose to watch the great ' tire-carriage ' go by. The telegraph-wires, throughout the whole'dis- tance between Calcutta and Delhi, were scarcely ever, in the «lay- tinie, during our tour, without feathered occupants, when the train flashed past — some displaying, it would almost .seem, the most perfect noncJialance, and others carefully observant and interested in the great monster, which, however alarming it may once have been, experience has taught them, brings no danger in its rapid course- Of these the greater portion were king-crows (Dicrurus macrocercusj those gal- lant little shrikes, that lord it over so many birds of six times their size and bulk. Next in abundance were the Indian rollers, (Cora- cias Indica) commonly known as 'jays,' whose wings display such an intense and glorious blue, that, according to Dr. Mason,* the Burmese species (Coracias affinis) has furnished to the natives of that country, an epithet, by which they distinguish the most precious • The Natural rrodudions of Burmah, 36 sappliire— hence called the ' roller-sapphire.' These, with a few my- nas (Acridotheres tristisj, two or three doves (Turiur risorius), one kite (Milvns aierj, and a pair of those lovely, little, green bee-eaters (Merojjs viridisj were the only birds I saw resting on the wires. On one occasion, I counted seven king-crows, besides two rollers, in the space included by three telegraph-posts. CHAPTER VIII. Although notified to start on the arrival of the down-train from Delhi, at about eight a.m., the ferry-steamer Kasheejee, did not quit her moorings at Sahibgunge for some time afterwards, and it was nearly ten o'clock on the 18tb March, ere she began to cleave the muddy waters of the Ganges on her upward trip to Caragola Ghtt. However, four hours' steaming, including the time spent in getting on and off a sand -bank in the sacred river, brought her to her destination ; and, by half-past two in the afternoon, we were safely landed on the dreary-looking stretch of white sand, which, in the dry season, forms the point of disembarkation for Caragola. During the rains, when the mighty stream is brimming over, this desolate expanse is entirely under water, and the landing-place, in consequence, fully a mile nearer the dak- bungalow. There is no scenery between Sahibgunge and Caragola — the naked sand -banks of the river being decidedly the reverse of picturesque, more especially as trees and shrubs seem to have scarcely any existence with- in at least a hundred yards of the water's edge. Native boats were most numerous, and nearly all of the same fashion and build, even to the sails, which, almost without exception, appeared to be constructed of old and ragged gunny-bags. These vessels, as the wind was exceedingly light, progressed but slowly against the cur- rent, even though aided, as they were frequently, by two or more men poling with long bamboos. At the ghtt we found oar champony waiting for us, and, having scrambled in, were driven to the d^k-bungalow, fully a mile distant ; the bullocks sinking at every step for several inches in the soft sand, which covers the track for the greater poition of the way. 87 The champony is a kind of oblor.o; transit-cart, five feet, six inches in length, three feet, five and a half inches in width, and three feet, six inches in height. It is perched upon two high, slender wheels, of thirty inches radius, entirely enclosed, for half its height, by wood- en panels, and surmounted by a palkee-roof, from which depend canvas blinds, that can be rolled up, or faste:;ed down, at the option of the travellers, so as to meet the wooden portion of the front and sides, and thus exrlude the light from the interior. There is a well in the centre, seven inches deep, fifteen and a half inches wide, and extending from side to side of the vehicle, which is intended, I nresume, for the limited quantity of lutrgage — viz : half a maund — allowed to be carried. The driver sils in front, on the same level as the floor of the cham- pony, and the entrance, for passengers, is at the back. It is, altogether, a very ricketty affair, and the springs are so bad, that, no matter how smooth the road, its progress is one continued series of jolts, from the commencement of the journey to the end. The pace, too, is abo- minably slow, the pair of bullocks, which draw it, rarely reaching the rate of three miles per hour, including stoppages for change of cattle.* There are two or three good houses in the neighbourhood of the dak- bungalow at Caragola, and clusters of native huts extend for some distance on either side ; but the ground upon which they are built is low, and abounds in rank, coarse grass, very suggestive of swampy soil for at least some portion of the year. After a bath and dinner at the dak- bungalow, we paid the some- what exorbitant charges of the khansamah for a most inferior meal ; and, once more taking possession of our champony, started, by the light of a brilliant moon, for Purneah— distant twenty-nine miles — about eight o'clock. The early part of the night was warm enough, but, towards morning, the air became so chilly, that I was glad to close the blind on my bide of the vehicle, and cover myself with a cloak for the remainder of the weary way — seemingly much longer than it really was, from the slow pace at which we travelled. At length, about sunrise, our tedious * During my return journey T saw a better description of champony in use on the same road. 88 drive was concluded, and we found ourselves at the dfik-bungalow, at Furneah, which is a capital building, prettily situated on an extensive, grassy plain, diversified with scattered trees. The station is of con- siderable size, and contains a number of fine houses, as well as the usual proportion of native huts, but I am told, it is very unhealthy at certain seasons of the year, and, moreover, excessively hot and un- pleasant. In our case, a tremendous dust-storm, accompanied by a cool breeze from the northward, swept over the place in the afternoon, and reduced the temperature co)asiderably. The storm brought heavy clouds and lightning with it, but not a drop of rain. The road from Caragnla to Punkabare^) ( known as the Ganges and Dai^eeling Road ) is planted on each side wiih trees, for almost the en- tire distance. They are chiefly jak, mango, peepul, banyan and other kinds of Indian figs. Those between Caragola and Pumeah are, for the most part, of great age and size, but the rest are generally small and young. As it grew dark, we left Pumeah, and arrived at Dingra Gh^t shortly before sunrise on the 20th March, having been nearly nine hours in accomplishing twenty miles over a most excellent road. Dingra is a small village on the Mahanuddee River, and the second station from Caragola on the road to Darjeeling. The river is broad and deep in some places, and, at present, it is, as compared with all the other streams that we have lately seen, tolerably full of water. Its banks are of sand, abounding in mica, and deriving therefrom, the appearance of being glazed. The dak-bungalow is an excellent specimen of its kind, close to the high-road, and about half-a-mile from the ferry, on the south side of the river. Its situation is airy and pleasant, there being nothing in the vicinity to interrupt the free play of any breeze that may be stir- ring. The two or three small, scattered, native villages are all at some distance, and I did not observe any European residences. The country in the neighbourhood is very fiat and open, and, within the radius of a mile or two, almost destitute of trees. It seems to i*onsist entirely of grain-fields, where the people grow wheat, barley, etc., in the dry season, and rice in the rains, during whichi tho kbid- 39 mut(;ar informed us, the water extends in all directions, coming up to within a few yards of the dak-bungalow. The soil is full of mica, and has the same shining appearance that the river-sand presents. The common myna ( Acridutheres tridis), and the pretty little social-lark (Calandrella br achy dad ijla), generally called ' ortolan ' in India, were very abundant at Dingra, two mango-trees, close in front of the bungalow, being filled, throughout the day, with the former, and all the neighbouring fields plentifully supplied with the latter. On one of the mango-trees just alluded to, there were some eight or ten of the beautiful, pendent, grass nests of the interesting little baya, or weaver-bird (Ploceus baya), i\\e produce of past sea- sons, and, curiously enough, the other tree, which stands close by, und possesses, one would think, equal advantages, was totally unoccu- })ied. We left Dingra early in the evening, and crossed the Mahanuddee in a large, native boat, which carried our champony and bullocks, as well as ourselves. The road from the ghSt follows the sandy beach of the river for some distance, and is not particularly good there- abouts, but it soon leads into the most capital highway, that extends nearly irom Caragola to the foot of the hills. Kishengunge, the next stopping- place in the route, is twenty miles from Dingra, and the jour- ney occupied about the usual time, extending almost to daylight on the morning of the 2l8t. The dak-bungalow is beautifully situated in the centre of an immense, grassy plain, apparently unbroken for a long distance round. A native village of small dimensions, the de- puty-magistrate's house, and a dozen or so of other scattered buildings, with a few trees, and an occasional clump of bamboos, are the sole ob- jects in its vicinity, and none of these were sufficiently close to inter- rupt the delicious sweep of the breeze, which, during our visit, was Tolling about us, cool and invigorating, and purified from all dust by the recent rain. We were especially fortunate, however, as it appear- ed, for the bearer at the d^k- bungalow declared that a hot wind had V)een blowing, only the day before, for several hours. The next station, Titalya, being forty miles distant, we left; Kishen- gunge early in the afternoon, and, in about sixteen hours, our tortoise- <0 paced vehicle stopjied at tlie dfik- bungalow, whicb i« a «Tna1} buildmg oil the siininiit of a Tnound close to the Mahanudd^e River. Its si- tuation is pleasant, and, in clear weatlier, the mountains are qiiito visible from the verandah. Durtfig our stay, however, dar1< clouds screened them wholly from our paze, or pave us only momentarx* peeps at their lower spurs. The road between Kishenpunge and Titalya passes over a level pluin of vast dimensions, which look? as if it was accustomed to be covered with water during the rains, as the little bund?, Or embankments, cha- racteristic of rice- fields, were everywhere plentiful on its surface. There are a few villages at long intervals, but not many trees, or even bam- >>oos. The vicinity of the road abounded in hill mynas (Eiihhes intermedin) which gave life to the otherwise lonely highway, and, as long as daylight lasted, cheered us with their rich, tinkling Voices. Volknmeria infortmata, which the Hindoos call bhant, was abun- dantly in flower, as also a beautiful Osbech'u, but I did not observe any other plants, excepting Lencas aspera, who.'se silvery-white blossoms are common everywhere in these regions. We remained at Titalya only long enough for breakfast, and then resumed the journey to Silligoree, fifteen miles further, where we arrived late in the afternoon, having passed over a continuation of the same level country before mentioned, dotted, here and there, with small villages, embosomed in bamboos and plantains. Silligoree is r-Lther a wild, desolate- looking spot, with scarcely any trees near it, and the dak- bungalow, which stands close to the bank of the Maha- uuddee River, is a damp, mouldy, little building, with a thatched roof, through which the rain trickled pretty freely. Supplies, more- over, seemed rather scarce, for no bread was procurable, and. we bad to content ourselves with inferior chupatties as a substitute. A beautiful Persian lilac-tree stands near the house. It appeared to me to bo that species called bukayun, or bukain, by the Hindoos — the 3hlia bukayun of Royle, which Roxburgh considered identical with the Melia sempervirens of Swartz. Next Djorning we started early, and completed the sixteen miles be- tween Silligoree and Punkabaree by about three o'clock in the after- 41 noon. The bridge over the Mahanuddee, at the former place, being out of repair, it was necessary to ford the stream, which, however, was very low and scarcely rose higher than the bullocks' knees. Its water was exceedinply clear, and flowing over a hard, sandy and pebbly bed, in which tho micaceous particles were very abundant. We then entered the Terai— tliat celebrated forest which skirts a portion of the base of the Himalayas, and which has earned such a terrible reputation from the malarious exhalations, that still render its passage by night, during the rainy season, a journey of some risk ; but, for a long distance, on either side of the road, nearly all the large trees have been removed, and there remains now nothing but a thick second-giowth or rank grass, interspersed with shrubs and climbing plants of many species, with, here and there, one of the primeval giants, which has escaped the fate of nearly all its fellows. 'J he road through the Terai is by no means a bad one, and I rather enjoypd the drive than otherwise, even in the slow, lumbering cliampony. Every now and then, a dhak-tree [Bidea frotidosaj, laden with bright scarlet flowers, or a large shrub with reddish capsules, wliic-h I took to be IleUdcres isora, would re- lievo the monotony of colour, and, occasionally, a lovely Bauhinia, or a patch of epiphytal orchids, added tints of more delicate hue. The forest was very silent — strange- voiced birds, at intervals, only, break- ing tho stillness, and reminding one that tho solitude was more ap- parent than real. It is a curious fact that this malarious locality, hitherto so deadly in its effects upon the human frame, is inhabited with perfect impunity by two races of men, called Mcchis and Dimals, who are said to be re- markably healthy, though perpetually exposed to the poisonous air, which is so destructive to the European, the genuine Iiill-man, and the swarthy native of the plains. Strangely enough, however, we are told that they dread the open country, where they are almost always seized with fever. These people are stated to be of the Mongohan division of the human race, and to be of a yellow hue. They are pas- toral and agricultural tribes, and are described to be industrious, honest, inofifensive and cheerful. They are almost omnivorous, and can hardly be said to practice any religion, though we are told that some of the 42 forms of Hindooism are in me among them. I did not, to my know- ledge, see any of these curious and interesting beings. We crossed two tributaries of tlie Mahanuddee, by small bridges, but they were insignificant brooks, containing scarcely any water — a condition which, in all probability, was only attributable to tlie con- tinued dry weather. About two miles below Punkabaree stands the native village of Be- surbatee, or Gareedoora, where my driver declared I should have to ifcave the champony, and ride or walk the rest of the way ; however, upon enquiry, neither ponies nor coolies were to be had, so, nokns volens, my garrywan was compelled to re-yoke his bullocks, and com- mence the ascent to Punkabaree, about 1 200 feet higher up. Besur- batee stands on the edge of the Terai, and at the foot of the hills, though, for some two miles before, the road ascends slightly, as it be- gins to creep up the roots of the lower spurs, which are, I understand, only 300 feet above the sea-level. As the bullocks were evidently very tired, I relieved them of my weight at this place, and, following S , who had gone on some two hours before, started to walk to Punkabaree. The road is most ex- cellent, and exceedingly picturesque, winding up the slopes through a beautiful forest, which was adorned with Bauhinias loaded with blos- som, and festooned with white and yellow ConvolvuU, as well as other climbers, that, notwithstanding the season, were, in many instances, gay with bright flowers. The great and, for the most part, forest- clothed mountains, too, opened out their glories more fully at every succeeding step, and tea-plantations and settlers' houses, perched up in apparently almost inaccessible places, lent an additional interest to a walk that was, in itself, wonderfully attractive and enjoyable. Steeper and steeper grew the ascent, until I reached the dtk- bungalow of Punkabaree, standing upon a spur which overlooks a charming valley, and refreshed myself with a bowl of Himalayan tea, which S had caused to be prepared in anticipation of my arrival. For the last mile, or so, heavy clouds had been gathering fast, and I narrowly escaped a wetting from the rain, which fell almost immediately. The dfik-bungalow is small, and seemingly not very waterproof, if 48 one may judge from the appearance of the walls. The roof is s^ingknl aud the floor planked — peculiarities which, in themselves, were strong- evidences of our having at last reached the Himalayas. At Punkabaree there is a sort of ' llage, or, more properly, a num- ber of sheds and offices belonging to various government departments, as well as some native liuts, occupied chiefly by coolies and others, wliu make a living by transporting goods, either on their backs, or by means of ponies and bullocks, to the different stations higher up. In addition, there are, in the neighbourhood, some pleasant-looking residences of tea-planters and government officials. Here wo first saw the hill-men — sturdy, muscular fellows, very dirty, and very wild- looking, with long, black hair and beardless faces. They proved to bo Lcpchas and Sikkim-Bhoteas, the burden-bearing race of this portion of the Himalayas, without whose assistance, under existing circumstances, travellers would find much difficulty in getting their luggage carried up the mountains. We found a sensible difference in the temperature at Punkabaree from that of the plains, and enjoyed the cooler and fresher atmosphere, which was laden with moisture, and, to me, consequently, very grate- ful, after the prolonged dry weather I had so recently experienced. Soon after nightfall, my attention was attracted by a curious uoise, in the forest below us, which bore sucli a close resemblance to that which would be caused by a man, at some distance, striking a plank, at quick and regular intervals, with a hammer, that I was, at first, quite deceived as to its origin. Presently, however, a similar noise came from the opposite direction, and, almost immediately, a large goatsucker, flitting silently through the heavy woods, perched upon a tree about fifleen yards away, and began to utter the singular sound I refer to. Shortly afterwards, he flew away, apparently in pursuit of insects, emitting a slight, low cry, like ' tuk-a-tuk,' as he took wing. I have no doubt the bird was the large Bengal night-jar (Caprimul- gvs alhonotatus) of Jerdon's ' Birds of India^ in which work the call is described with the author's accustomed care and accuracy. From Caragola to near Titalya, the high-road is most excellent, and metalled throughout, with, I think, a mixture of brick and kun- 41 lur; and, even beyond that point, there is not muoli to complnin of, in the dry season, at all events ; althouah, in parts, here and there, the track is somewhat rough and unpleasant. I understand that the nevr cart-road to Darjceling will avoid Punkabaree entirely, and run almost straight from Siiligoree to Kursinng. From the latter station, upwards to the sanatarium, it is already con pleted, and the remain- der, I was told, will also soon be available for traffic. The morning was bright and fair on the 24th March, and the sun almost hot, as we started on foot for Kursiong, 4500 feet above the fea, and 2900 feet higher than Punkabaree, though only six miles distant. Behind us were our riding-ponies, led by the syces, and, further to the rear, our baggage-train, consisting of more ponies, which were driven up the sloping road, much in the same manner as a flock of sheep. The ascent was somewhat severe, from the sharp pace at which we walked, and, after accomplishing about two-thirds of the distance, I was glad to mount my diminutive steed, and throw the rest of the fatigue on him. S , however, continued on foot, and walked the whole way. Kursiong is much colder than Punkabaree, nnd there is, also, a marked difference in the vegetation, amongst which I recognised, and hailed as old friends, not a few of the familiar genera of Europe. There is evidently a town springing up here, and the place deserves a better diik- bungalow than the wretched and dirty little building, which is so designated at present. All round are beautiful hills, and most of them display evidences of tea-plantations, either actually form- ed or in progress. The bright green tiers of tea- plants, too uniform to be picturesque, and the houses of the cultivators, give a certain life to the mountain- landscape, and, although sadly marring its wild beau- ty, are cheerful looking and pleasant to the eye. ' With the ascent the grandeur of the scenery increased, and every bend of the zigzag, climbing road, shewed us fresh views of the .splen- did peaks, and the deep and gloomy-looking khuds and gorges, seem- ingly choked up with rank vegetation, and shaded from the sun by the massive trees, crowding upon one another, and shutting out light for ever from the trickling rivulets nhich, in the depth of shade below, 45 represent the furious torrents, that, in the rainy season, must come crashing and foaming down the steep sides of these huge mountains, from the height of land above.* The road is, of course, scarped out of the hill-side throughout, and the fearful depth of some of the khuds almost makes one's head swim, and renders looking down a dangerous experiment for those unaccus- tomed to such elevations. After breakfasting at Kursiong, we resumed our journey to Dar- jeeling, in much the same order as that we had observed at starting — S and I in front, and the servants and luggage following. The scenery grew wilder as we advanced ; the mountains seemed higher and grander, and the valleys larger and more profound ; but we could form no very definite idea of their features, for, soon after leaving Kursiong, a dense mist completely enveloped us, and only permitted occasional glimpses of the huge hills and precipitous khuds along our route. Towards evening we reached Senadah, and took up our quarters for the night in Mr. White's comfortable and pleasantly-situated ho- tel, which is about half-way between Kursiong and Darjeeling, close * When I passed through these glorious forestB, on my return to the plains, in July, the trees were in full leaf, and not a few of thefa iji flower, while the lesser jungle was ornamented with the snowy bracts imd bright orange corollas of a species of Musamnda, the graceful, fea- thery-like inflorescence of several kinds of Polygona, and the rich and striking spikes of yellow blossom displayed by the noble Cyrtopera Jla - na. The hill-sides were laced with foaming rivulets, bounding over the rocks amidbt the rich, green, dripping forest, and through the wild gorges, screened from the sunlight by majestic trees, or beautiful ar- borescent ferns, as they hurried, in th*ir mad career, down to the bright rivers which their waters help to feed. The change, as I descended to- wards Funkabaree, from the silent and magnificent upper woods of oaka, chesnuts and magnolias, to the almost tropical forest, which clothes the lower elevations, though not sudden, was suflSuiently rapid to be very striking, accompanied, aa it was, by the strange and varied combina- tion of sounds characteristic of the warmer jungles, which increased in violence and intensity, as I nearedthe plains, until the uproar of animal ivnd insect life waa perfectly aatonishing. lo' t/if riew fart^Toad. A fevs years since, there wat a d§.k-bungalow at Cliuttiickpore, on tlie old road, but, if in existence, it is no lonfrer used, and Mr. White' i> hotel is now, 1 be)ieve, the only place where shelter and food can be obtained by the traveller in this locality. Senadah is on the shoulder of the Pucheera Hill, one of the many spurs from an enormous mountain called Sincliul, whose summit is one of the loftiest of the outer Himalaya ; and, further down, on the same spur, which trends from Sinchul in a south-westerly direction, towards the valley formed by the Balasun and Pucheem Rivers, is the pretty little settlement of Hope Town, which was established by two enterprising gentlemen about ten years ago. The elevation of this spur at Senadah — about two miles above Hope Town — is said to be TOOOfeet, but it slopes continuously downwards, and, at its lower end, the altitude is very considerably less. It is bounded on the north by the Rungmook River, on the west by the Balasun, on the south by the Pucheem, and on the east by the Pucheem, and the new cart- road to J)arjeeling. Hope Town contains five thousand, seven hundred and ninety-three acres of land, which are divided into fifty-eight different lots, but, up to the present time, a very small number of these have been built upon. Indeed, just now, the settlement is almost de- serted, owing to the non-success of its tea- plantations, and very few of the houses are occupied. Charmingly placed amidst beautiful forest and mountain scenery, and in a most picturesque and healthy locality, it is surprising that this attractive little town should not have fulfilled the hopes of its projectors, whose enterprise and public spirit deserved a more gratifying and prosperous result. Wo left Mr. White's comfortable little hotel — where civility and .tttention are happily combined vgth low charges — pretty early on the 25th March, and soon completed the remaining ten miles mto Dar- jeeling, arriving at a sort of private dSk- bungalow, owned by a resi- dent, about eleven o'clock. CHAPTER IX. . Judging from my past experience of much travel over many coun- tries, I do not hesitate to say that thert could have been few spots on earth more fitted to arouse the fullest feelings of admiration, won- der and reverence than Darjeeling, in the days gone by, ere man pro- faned the glory of the wilderness, and stamped the impress of his ex- istence upon the rolling hills and fleecy forests that enclose the site of the ' Holy Spot ; ' * for, standing in the centre of a vast amphi- theatre of stupendous mountains, which bound the view on every side, like the surging billows of a huge and stormy sea, the pictures• 111 Gnoriattiim ... . .•• ... 120i| Velloro ... ... ... 13G Tliernvollum ... ... ... 143ii Arcot ... ... ... l^>r:i> Sboliiigluir ... ... ••• 100:[ Arconum ... ... •>. 174 Chinainapett ... ... ... 180^ CndiiinbaUioor ... ... ... 187 Trivellore ... ... ... ... 190^ Tiiinniioro ... •«• ... 108^ Avndy ... ... ... 203^ PciTvTdborc ... ... ... 213 Madras ... ••• ... 210} 61 LIST OF PORTS BETWEEN MADRAS AND CALCUTTA, AT WHICH THE BRITISH-INDIA STEAiM NAVIGATION COMPANY'S VESSELS GE- NERALLY STOP, AND THE DISTANCES BETWEEN THEM. liiLi:s. Madras ... ,„ Masulipatnm ... ... ,,, 18^ Coconada ... ... ... lOO Vizagapatam ... ... ... 70 Bimlipatam ... „. ... 18, Gopanlpore ». ... ■ , «« ' 125 Calcutta ... ... ... 317 816 LIST OF STATIONS BETWEEN CALCUTTA AND DELHI WITH THE DISTANCES. East Ltdian Raihvu//. V/ &ii C I L u L'Si ••• •■• ••■ t*« Howruh ... ... Balli ... ... . Connaghur Seranibore Biddabatti Chandernagore ... ... Ilooghly ... ,.. Mugrah Pundooah Boinchee .~ ... Mymarree ... ... Suktikur ... „.. Burdwan ... ... ... Gooshkarrah ... ... Beddiah ... ... Bulpoor ... ,,, ... Alimoodpoor *.. ... Syntbeea ... Muliarpoor ... Bamporo Haut ... ... Kulbatee ... ... Mooraroco ... ... Pakowr ... ... «*• 1 t«* «3J ••• 9\- • •• 13 1<^ ••• 21 V ■• 24i ••« •cO ••• m 4U ••• 61.} •ft* 60 ••• 67J •• 87^ ••• 94J ••• 99i 113i ••• 119} • •• 129i ••• 136| •■• 145} 155} ••• 169^ G2 .;/":,. -*•♦, :;:,:.„ ■'• , ... 185J ♦M , .. ... 196 Tccii Pahar Walmrnjpore ... _ Saliibgunge .. "• ''^"•^ PeerpoynL "• - ^'''^ Colgong . "• . - - 234 p. , * "• - 246J Ghogah ■ -^^ Blmugulpore S ^ : "* "• ^^^^ Sultangunge '"' '^^^^ Burriarpore ... '" - - ^80^ Jumalpore "' ."* ^91^ Burrarah ... "" ^ : . : .m ^ 298- Kuirah •" '- 30S* Luckeeserai '** ' "* ^^^^ Bui'hea Mokameh Barrh ... Futwah Patna Zumaneah Suknldcah Mogul Serai Albowra Road Chunar Puhairee ... ••• ... Niiwiice Sirea Itoad 327 3361- 3471- Buckteaipore "*' ... "" *** ^^^^ 374J 389 396* Bankiporo n- "' •" 4021 408f 419J Bihta Arrah Beehea ... - ^, - ^^^ ^^3} Eogonnthpore ... '" ^^'^f Doomraon Biixar Giibmer -r,.,, "' ... 488J Duaarnugger „, 455J 465a 476 • •• ••• o • •• 498J 606f 623 534j- 642J 654}- Mirzapore .,. "* ^ f Gaepoora ... _ ^^J 585J 605^ 63 Km-chuim ... ,„ ... 618J Allahabiid ... ... ... 629J^ Manowree ... ,.. ... -640^ Bliarwaree ... ... ... 662J Sirathoo ... ... ... 665J Khaga ... ... ... 680J Beiliamporo ,.. ... - ... 689J- Fufctehporo ... ; >«* ; . ■ ••• 701f Mulwah ... :♦.» ... 7] 2 Mohar ... ... ... 721} Sirsoul ... ... ... 736 Oawnpore ... ... ,„ 748J Bhowpore ... ... ... 762J Roorah ... ... ... 776 Jheenjuk ... ... ... 787| Paphoond ... ... ... 800}- Utchulda ... ... ,,» 810J Btirtna ... ... .». 822| Etawa ... ... ... 835|- Jushwuntnugger ... ... „, 845 Badan ... ... «. 857 Shekoabad ... ... ,„ 869J Ferozabad ... ... ... 882 Toondla, Junction ... ... ... 892 J- Burhan ... ... ... 901} Jaleysur Eoad ... ... ... 909J Hattras Eoad ... ... ... 922 Falee ... ... ... 932 AUyghur ... ... ... 940J Somna ... ... ... 954} Khoorjah ... ... ... 967| Chola ... ... ... 97«J Secundrabad ... ... ... 985} Dadree ... ... ... 996 Gazeeabad ... ... ... IGOCJ Delhi ... ... ... 1017} Branch Lines, East Indian Railivay. Ju'.nalpore — ... ..• ... Mongliyr ... ... ... ... 5f 64 Mogul Sorai ... ''"'^^ Benares ••• Gi ••> Luchnow and Cawnpore Line. ••• 131 Toondla Agra Cawnpore Oouao Ajgaen ... *" * Harownee "* "' *" ^^* *** •"• ••• 28}- Lucknow ... * 42 LIST OF STATIONS BETWEEN CARAOOLA GHAT AND DARJEE- IING, WITH TUE DISTANCES. Cnragola Ghat Purneah Dingra Kisbengunge Titalya Silligoree Punkabaree Kursiong Seuadah Darjeeling • •« ••• 29 • •• ••• 49 ••• ••• 69 • •• ••• 109 • •• ••• 124 ••• • •• 140 ••• • •• 146 ••• ••• 156 ••• ••* 166