Chapter IV: Part II (2)

Before I knew what had happened, Jack was off after the runaway. Never have I been carried at such a pace. Jack did just as he liked; instead of going warily and carefully over the rough country, he jumped every hole or prickly bush which came in his way, to save the time required to go round it; when we reached a creek, instead of discreetly seeking for the best place at which to cross it, Jack scrambled down its steep, crumbling banks, splashed through the water, and was up the other side like a cat, and on again, watching every turn of the chestnut, who was doing his best to join the mob, with them to make a final bolt up the gorge and escape us for that night. Jack felt bound in honour to prevent this, so he laid himself well out to his work, and with the most wonderful instinct availed himself of every inch of ground by which he could gain the entrance to the gorge before the mob. He not only succeeded in heading the horses, but actually turned them into the stock-yard close by; and when I recovered my presence of mind, I found myself still on Jack’s back, who was standing _across_ the open place where the slip-rail ought to have been put. He quite understood that I was incapable of jumping off and getting the long pole into its proper position, so as to keep all the horses in, and therefore he took this duty on his own shoulders. How he shook himself when we had reached this point! I was already jolted nearly to death, for I am bound to say that dear Jack’s paces were very rough when he galloped fast, and to be shaken violently directly after such a skelter was too trying. When the gentlemen came up, they could hardly speak for laughing, at which I was much affronted, for I felt we deserved great praise for our exertions; but it seems that we looked very absurd, tearing along like a whirlwind (both Jack and I being ordinarily very quiet and deliberate in our movements), jumping all obstacles, disappearing sometimes in the bed of a creek, and finally gaining the victory single-handed against some twenty horses.

I have one more story to tell you, and it takes me back again to the time when I was a little girl. My father came home one day, and announced that he had bought a very handsome horse to go in single harness. First of all we inquired what colour he was? A bright bay. Then we asked about his mane and tail; and lastly, some practical person demanded what price was to be paid for ‘Tom.’ I well remember the astonishment when my father said how very little his owner asked for him. Of course, the next question was, ‘Is he sound?’ ‘Oh yes, he is all right,’ Papa said; ‘but he has fits of obstinacy, and stands quite still for hours: however, I don’t think he will try any of his tricks with me.’

In due time Tom came home, and a very handsome horse he was, large and powerful, with splendid action, and very showy. I had overheard the gentlemen talking together about his having ‘a sullen eye,’ and I immediately flitted off to the stable to see what this sort of eye was like. To my disappointment, Tom’s eyes were just like those of all the other horses. Every morning, Papa used to take Tom out in a sort of light gig, with a groom by his side. I anxiously inquired how Tom had behaved; the answer was always the same, ‘Perfectly well.’ There was nothing I liked so much in those days as going out with my father for a morning drive, and at last, after some weeks of excellent behaviour on Tom’s part, and earnest entreaties on mine, I was allowed to accompany Papa again. Tom went as peacefully as a lamb; he was often tried by having to stop to allow a gate to be opened, but he never minded this check, and went on amiably afterwards, until one unlucky day, when Papa and I were alone. We came to a large white gate—how well I remember it now; I jumped out to open it as quickly as possible, so as not to try Tom’s temper; but running past him to scramble up again to my perch, I saw at once what they meant by a sullen eye. It was a look of sheer rage and obstinacy, such as you would not believe a horse could assume. It did not surprise me to find that Tom made no movement in reply to Papa’s ‘click.’ First of all, kindness and petting were tried; I did what I could to help by coaxing and patting. Tom stood as if he were carved out of wood; then my father beat him; Tom never winced. I remember Papa’s laughing at my suggestion that we were in fairy land, and that a wicked enchanter had turned Tom into stone. It really seemed like it, for time passed and Tom was motionless. The whip was broken, and my father’s arm was tired; still Tom did not stir. At last, when no one was touching him, he gave a sudden bound into the air, all four legs off the ground at once, and fell between the shafts, which snapped short off, sending Papa and poor little me flying into the dusty road. As soon as we had picked ourselves up and found we were not hurt, we went to Tom, who was lying perfectly still, with some blood on the dust by his head. He was quite dead; and after I grew up, and reminded Papa of that adventure, he told me that a veterinary surgeon examined poor Tom’s body, and found that he had burst a large vessel in his heart, from rage or indignation, we don’t know which. I was so sorry for Tom!

I have now told you all the horse-stories which I can remember, and must try to think of something else to amuse you with next time.

_FOUR MONTHS IN CAMP._

I daresay many of my child readers think that it must be delightful to live in a tent. And so it is; for a few years ago I passed four months under canvas, and found them very pleasant, especially as the tent was moved to a fresh place every day. There are so many railroads in India now, that I suppose the marching of troops from one end of the country to the other is given up; but, at the time I write of, there was no other way of transporting them, and a regiment or an army sometimes had to make a journey of one or two thousand miles. We, who live in a little island, can hardly imagine how vast a region is even one Indian province. If you look at the map you will see that all England might be laid down on the plains of Bengal, and leave a margin as large in proportion as your little hand would leave, if laid down on this page.

I shall begin the story of my tent-life from the evening before I joined the camp, a day’s march from Lucknow. First, you must know that I had arrived from England only two weeks before, and consequently knew nothing of the language or the ways of the people. Now I expect you to get the map, and find Lucknow in the north-west province of Oudh; then we can make the journey together,—it will take us right up to the Himalaya mountains, and I hope to be able to amuse you by the way.

We had been staying for three or four days at Lucknow, having travelled thither from Calcutta partly by railway, and partly in a most uncomfortable and jolting carriage, like a very bad cab, in which we slept at night. Glad to think this kind of journeying over, I looked forward eagerly to my first glimpse of the white tents which were to be our home for some time. But before we joined the camp, there was a great deal to be done in the way of buying things, hiring servants, and making various arrangements for our comfort, and you must remember that I knew nothing at all about what was wanted, and had every moment to ask some kind person’s advice, just as you would be obliged to do. The camp which we were ordered to join was composed of five thousand soldiers, who were to take what was called ‘a military promenade’ from one end of Bengal to the other, to see that the country was quiet, the forts in good repair, and the various garrisons doing their duty properly. We marched in great state, for the Commander-in-Chief was with us, and all the heads of departments. There was an immense number of servants and _kelasses_, or men to pitch the tents every day. I have heard that the camp numbered more than ten thousand people, though barely half of them were soldiers; there were only four ladies, including myself!

Fortunately for me, the lady with whom I stayed at Lucknow had made just such a journey only the year before, so she told me exactly what was best to do and to buy, and great fun I thought it making such odd purchases. First there was the cook to be hired: he required several assistants, a little cart drawn by bullocks to carry all his pots and pans, and a wire-gauze safe to keep his provisions in. Poor man! he had no kitchen, and yet he used to send us up capital meals three times a day. All we had to do was to pay his daily bill; everybody took it for granted he cheated us immensely, but still I think it was very clever of him to manage so comfortably. We were allowed a certain number of camels and elephants to carry our tents and baggage, but the odd thing was that we had to buy two sets of everything, even two sets of pretty blue and white cotton carpets; these were made just like the Turkey carpets you probably have often seen, only of cotton instead of wool; they could be easily washed whenever we came to a river, and were besides much cooler and lighter than an ordinary dining-room carpet. Two sets of basket chairs had to be bought, with cushions of picked cotton, and pretty chintz covers to fit them; two sets of beds, of jugs and basins, cups and saucers, plates and dishes; our clothes, brushes, combs, books, &c., all had to be divided into two sets, and packed in two sets of camel trunks. The only things from which we never intended to part were a despatch-box and my travelling-bag; that was given into my ayah’s care, which reminds me that we had to buy a light sort of palanquin for her, and to provide two sets of bearers to carry it.

I, thinking it would be so very hot in India, had left all my winter clothes behind me in England; but I had to buy plenty of flannel and warm stuffs at Lucknow, for everybody assured me the cold would be intense early in the morning and late at night, and so it was. Whilst at dinner in the tent, I often had to send for a thick shawl to wrap myself up in. Among our servants was an excellent _durzie_, or tailor, who made all my clothes and mended everything. Nothing affronted him so much as to even see me sew on a button to my glove; he thought it was a reflection on his industry. He worked very hard during those few days at Lucknow, and got my wardrobe into excellent marching order by the 12th December, the day fixed for our joining the ‘Head-quarters Camp,’ at a place called Byram-Ghât, about thirty miles from Lucknow. We did not start until late at night; all day we were busy superintending the packing and seeing off all our worldly goods. I took especial delight in watching the loading of the camels; they were brought up to the verandah at the back of the house, and there made to kneel down and have their pack-saddle put on. Then came trunks, whose weight was evenly balanced on each side; a charpoy, or light bamboo bedstead, was fastened on the top; upon this sat the camel-driver, guiding his steed by means of a string rein fastened to a little bit of wood stuck through its nose. The camels made a great fuss about their loads; they gurgled and groaned in the most heartrending manner, and I was very sorry for them, until I saw what a bad mother one of them was. She had a dear little baby camel, and she was dreadfully unkind to it, biting and kicking it whenever it came near her. Just as she was going to start, having had a very light load put on her saddle, the camel-driver gently threw the little camel down, tied its legs with an old turban of his own, and finally had it lifted up and laid on the charpoy behind him; so the unkind mother had to carry her child after all, against her will, I daresay.

I must not forget to tell you about the pets, who had a servant all to themselves. There was a beautiful parrot, a small cage full of Java sparrows (who, by the way, are the stupidest little creatures in the world), and another of paroquets from Ceylon. These were sent on with their attendant, but I kept my latest favourite to travel with me. It was a most beautiful thoroughbred Persian cat, as white as snow, with long silky hair instead of short fur; she had also two white knobs hanging down by her jaws, one eye was blue and the other green, all of which characteristics belong to the true Persian breed. She was large and powerful, but as gentle and playful as a kitten. My difficulties with this animal began at once, for no sooner was I packed into the palanquin in which we were to make our journey from Lucknow to the camp, than Miss Pussy discovered some cold pigeon, which my hostess had kindly put on the little shelf inside the palkee (as palanquins are generally called); and when I wanted my early breakfast at six o’clock, the coffee was forthcoming, but neither the bread nor the pigeon was to be found. Pussy did not attempt to deny the robbery when taxed with it, but sat licking her paws with a self-satisfied and contented air. I must explain that Puss only answered to the name of ‘Billy,’ although she was a most elegant young lady; but a word which has something of the same sound is Bengalee for cat, and she had no other name. I think I shall tell you her fate here, so as not to interrupt my story when once we get fairly into camp. She was very good and quiet during the day, and slept contentedly on my lap, or curled herself up like a white heap on my writing-table; but at night she was as bad as a teething baby. Not a wink of sleep would she let me have; mewing, purring, jumping up on my bed to awake me, begging me in the most earnest cat language to let her go outside the tent, and play in the moonlight. I was warned not to allow her to do this, and of course I ought not to have given way; but at the end of a week I was so tired of these disturbances, that I got out of bed, pulled up the fastening peg of the tent-door, or rather curtain, and out poor Billy bounded, with a little cry of joy, into the bright moonlight. I looked after her to watch if she would go far; but her last moment had come. I think I see her now, standing in the soft shining light, with her pretty head well up, her small ears pointed, and lashing her long bushy tail from side to side. Alas! she had no instinct of her coming danger, for in a moment, from the rear of the tent, a small band of wolves dashed forward—I heard a cry, a snarl, some short greedy snaps, and all that was left of my poor Billy was a little tuft of blood-stained fur, or rather hair. She was eaten up in a moment before my eyes. It was all my fault for letting her go out, but she begged so hard!

We shall never get on if I stop by the way to tell you the fate of all my pets, so let us keep steadily to our camp life. Leaving Lucknow, we travelled all night in our palanquins, and, about six o’clock in the morning, I was just beginning to feel dozy, when one of the attendants drew aside the curtains of my palkee and pointed to a large clump of trees, saying something I could not understand; however, I sat eagerly up and saw my movable home looking quiet and peaceful in the early morning. We never see such splendid tents in England; they were all double poled, and arranged so as to form a long and wide street, with the Commander-in-Chief’s tent across the top. The standard was flying in front, with the sentries pacing up and down before it. At the back of the camp were rows of very small tents for the horsekeepers, the cooks, and other outdoor servants: the horses, some four or five in number, were picketed in the rear of their owners’ large tents; behind these again were a swarm of smaller ones for the soldiers, and still further off, among the trees, I could see on one side the camels’ camp, and on the other that of the elephants. All looked orderly and quiet in the early morning, and very different to what I soon discovered was its usual aspect. The camp had halted at this Ghât for a few days, to collect all the stragglers and arrange the order of march.

We soon passed the first row of sentries, then the next, and trotted and jolted up to the entrance of one of the largest tents at the upper end of the street. Amid much chattering and jabbering, and entreaties to each other to be ‘very careful of the lady-sahib,’ my bearers put my palkee down in front of my new home, and I sat up in it, feeling very sleepy, and dusty, and tired, to have my first look at a real tent to live in. I had made up my mind that it would be something like the gipsy encampments one sees on a common in England, and that the life would be a rough and uncomfortable one, but there was nothing of the sort. Our old Khansamah appeared at the entrance as beautifully clean in his snowy robes and turban as if he had just come out of a bandbox, and with many salaams ushered us into a sort of verandah which ran all round the tent, and then into the centre compartment. It looked just like a very spacious and lofty drawing-room. On the sand was spread first the thick striped drugget which matched the linings of the tent, pale buff and blue, and over this our own pretty cotton carpets and rugs. There were tables with gay covers, books, writing materials and vases of flowers, plenty of straw arm-chairs, and a long folding chair which made a very good sofa. What I thought the prettiest of all was a sort of trophy of green boughs arranged round the poles, and another of whips, guns, spurs, and swords. It all looked quite homelike and pretty. On a side table the cloth was laid for the early breakfast, and in a few moments we had some delicious coffee and rusks. At each side of this centre compartment was another room, that on the left hand being fitted up as a very nice bedroom; a portion of the verandah outside it was curtained off for a bath-room, and contained a large india-rubber bath full of fresh water. The division on the right was arranged as a dressing-room (also with a bath-room), and in it was a writing-table on which the important despatch-box was soon placed.

I now understood how necessary was the second set of everything. All was packed and ready to start as soon as the order of march was issued, so we lived in one tent whilst the other was on its road to the next camping-ground. We very soon set out on the march; I will describe the routine of a single day to you, and then you will know exactly how we managed for four months. Every Sunday we halted and had morning service in the Highlanders’ portion of the camp, and, in the afternoon, full service in the Commander-in-Chief’s tent. When we arrived at a large station we rested for three or four days whilst His Excellency inspected the garrison. There were a great many balls and parties given in our honour, but the account of these festivities would not interest you much, so I must go back to the daily camp life.

At half-past four o’clock every morning the bugle sounded. We all got up immediately and dressed as quickly as possible, I in my riding-habit; at five the second bugle blew, and instantly, as if by magic, the walls of the tent fell flat disclosing us drinking our coffee. As soon as possible afterwards we started; it was pitch dark and very cold, so we rode for the first few miles on the back of our baggage-elephant. This used to amuse me very much, though I never quite liked the getting up and down. The elephant I rode was larger than those you see in the Zoological Gardens, but quite as tame. His driver, or ‘mahout,’ sat on the poor beast’s head, and hit him hard with a small battle-axe, or prodded him with the sharp iron point of a spearhead, when he wanted him to go faster. The elephant did not seem to mind this severe correction in the least, so I hope it did not hurt him. He always knelt down for me to mount, and then a ladder was placed against his side, and I scrambled up on the pad which was my only saddle. How it is very difficult to go quickly up a shaky ladder in a long habit, and I was always glad when I found myself safely perched on his back. From this height, as soon as the day began to dawn, I could see the endless line of the procession: not only were there all the soldiers horse and foot, but innumerable camp-followers, with droves of sheep, of cows, of poultry: carts of all sorts and sizes, with ammunition, knapsacks, provisions, the wives and children of the hundreds of servants, the washer-_men_, the water-carriers, and many more than I can remember, all wending their way in silence amid clouds of dust. Every now and then a jingling of bells would herald the swift passing of an orderly mounted on a camel, who was hurrying on with orders, his steed gay with trappings of green and crimson to mark that it belonged to the ‘Camel Corps.’ I used to see regularly every morning on the line of march a very seedy-looking pony about as big as a Newfoundland dog, with a cock perched on its back. Whenever the poor little pony stopped the cock flapped his wings and set up a loud crow; I never could discover that the pony had any other duty to perform except to carry that cock.

As soon as the day dawned, which was not much before six, we began to look out for our horses; they had been sent on, and were awaiting us by the side of a wall or under a tree. We soon mounted and set off as hard as we could gallop so as to get out of the dust. Ten miles of fast cantering brought us to the new camp, and we rode up to the entrance of a tent precisely like the one we had left an hour or two before. There was breakfast ready, and everything looking as if we had lived in the tent for years. The first thing to do was to get rid of the dust, then we had a good breakfast; after that I saw the Khansamah, paid his bill for yesterday, and gave orders for to-morrow. At first I was obliged to have an interpreter whilst arranging my household affairs, but very soon I could get on by myself. Of course I made absurd mistakes; as when I told the poor Khansamah one morning to bring in more _bundles of firewood_ for breakfast! I meant to order eggs, but the words are not in the least alike in Hindoostanee. I never shall forget the poor man’s look of astonishment at my insisting on being obeyed, nor did I discover my mistake till the woodcutters filed into the tent, one after another, each carrying a large faggot which he laid at my feet, and the old Khansamah looked at me, as much as to say, ‘I hope you are satisfied now.’

After my interview with the cook, I settled down to my lessons, and very hard I had to work, I assure you; for, whatever clever people may say about it, I only know I found Hindoostanee exceedingly difficult to learn; it is tolerably easy to pick up a few sentences, just enough to give orders to the servants, but it is quite another thing learning a language where some of the letters of the alphabet are only two little dots, or a dot and a stroke, or a little dash; and I _never_ could feel at home beginning my copy at what we consider the end of a line, on the right hand, and writing backwards. Then, after studying for some time very attentively, and hoping I had got on very well, I made the humiliating discovery that I could only read my own writing, any one else’s being to me as undecipherable as hieroglyphics! By the time my studies were over it was time for luncheon; after lunch I had a nap, getting up about four to change my dress for a hunting expedition. All along the line of march we could find game a little off the main road, so every afternoon our ‘shikari,’ or huntsman, came to the tent-door with his elephant, and some coolies to beat for us. He made it his business to discover the best and nearest place for red-legged partridges, wild ducks, snipe, peacocks, or antelopes; we seldom had to go more than four miles before we dismounted from the elephant; we then went into the jungle, and the gentlemen shot until it got too dark to see the game. I acted as dog upon these expeditions, for English pointers are exceedingly rare, and very seldom of any use; the native servant who takes care of each couple is always dreadfully afraid of his charges, and never thinks of keeping them in order; he pampers and pets them, letting them do just as they like, and always speaks of them as ‘Kootah Sahib,’ or ‘Mr. Dog.’ So I used to beat the bushes for partridges, and whenever we put up a covey I marked them down, ran off to the bush where they took shelter, and waited there till the sportsmen came up. I carried a gun myself once, and only once. I never had courage to fire it, but once it went off of its own accord and shot a porcupine. Poor little creature! I was so sorry for it; there was nothing to be seen after the explosion but a few quills, which I have kept carefully ever since.

Stalking the antelopes was the best fun: they were so clever and so fleet that we could hardly ever get near enough for a rifle shot, but then the triumph was all the greater when we returned to camp with a fine fat buck slung on the elephant. As soon as I dismounted at my tent-door, the mahout ordered the elephant to ‘salaam,’ so he lifted up his long trunk and slapped his great wide forehead with it three or four times, just as the natives do. I always gave him something for his civility, a piece of cake or a large lump of sugar; but what he liked best was a bottle of beer; it was so curious to see how carefully he took it up in his trunk and poured the contents slowly into his huge mouth. I only gave him a pint bottle, so I suppose he considered that a mere sip! We had just time to dress for dinner, which was always at seven. We often dined out, or had officers to dine with us, for everybody was very sociable and pleasant; but it seemed rather odd to me that all guests were expected to send to the tent where they were going to dine, their own chair, plate, tumbler, wineglass, knife and fork, and spoon! However, if you think of it, it would have been impossible to carry about things enough for a dozen extra guests. We four ladies were made a great deal of, and used often to dine at the mess tents of the various regiments: but there was no sitting up late; everybody in camp—servants and all—was fast asleep by ten o’clock, and there was not a sound to be heard but the laugh of the hyænas, or the loud baying of the wolves.

There was no packing or unpacking to be seen; everything was done in the new tent before we arrived, and in the old one after we had left it. The country was so flat and level that it was difficult to believe we were getting on, until our arrival at some great town marked our progress. I don’t think any one was ill the whole time we were marching, and we had only one accident. A dear little girl called Rose (a very white rose she was, poor child) set her pinafore on fire one evening, just as we were all dressing for a dinner-party at the Commander-in-Chief’s. I heard a shriek from the tent opposite to mine, and rushed across the wide space to see what was the matter. I was only in time to see Rosy’s mamma seize a little pillar of flame—which turned out to be the child—in her arms, thereby setting all the lace trimming on her evening dress in a blaze. My toilette was not so far advanced, and I had on a very large wide flannel dressing-gown, so I threw myself upon the blazing heap, and in a second the tent ropes had been cut, and the canvas came huddling down on us. This put us all out at once, but for fear we might still be smouldering, the fire-engines began to play upon us, until I really thought we should have been drowned; I struggled to free myself, and shouted, as loud as I could, entreaties to the kelasses to leave off pumping, and to lift up the flaps of the tent; but, alas! all my Hindoostanee went out of my head, and I could only remember one word, which means ‘take care;’ so the more I shrieked this out, the more they replied, ‘Very good, lady-sahib, we are taking care,’ and pumped with greater vigour than ever. Poor little Rose and her mamma had both fainted, one from pain and the other from fright. At last some gentlemen came to our rescue and got the canvas up and extricated us; how dripping wet we all were! Rosy’s arms and chest were much burned, and the poor little girl suffered terribly; but she was very good and patient, and in a few weeks got quite well. I don’t think she will ever hold her pinafore over a candle again.

The first large station we came to was Bareilly; this was after three weeks’ marching; but our doings there would not interest you much. We had reviews in the daytime, or rather in the early morning and late in the evening, and balls at night. The only thing I find noticed in my diary of those days is an account of some feats of horsemanship, which we were invited to witness one afternoon. The performers were the soldiers, a regiment of Irregular Cavalry, who marched with us. They were mounted on wild-looking horses; and though the trappings were gay, the effect of the whole was somewhat shabby. But the pace they went at was wonderful. We stood in a tent verandah, and in front of the open space before it were some empty soda-water bottles planted in the sand with just their necks sticking out; at a signal some twenty or thirty horsemen dashed out of the ranks—the regiment was drawn up opposite to us, but a long way off—and with wild cries swooped down like eagles on these bottles, sticking the points of their long slender lances into the mouth of the bottle and lifting it out of the ground: fancy doing this as you pass at full gallop! They did the same thing to a tent peg; then there were some more bottles planted, and the men fired their carbines at them as they passed rapidly, and I find it recorded that only two missed out of twenty-eight riders. After that, the whole line charged past us like a whirlwind, the men flung themselves out of their saddles as they rushed by, holding still on to their bridle-reins however, ran a few steps by the side of their horses, and then lightly vaulted in the saddle again. The next feat was performed by a solitary horseman, who, with the reins lying loosely before him, jumped up on his saddle as he swept past us, fired off his carbine at a mark (they hardly ever missed), then throwing his arms round his horse’s neck, clung on for a few yards, at its side, so as to shelter himself from a supposed enemy; when the imaginary danger was over, he swung back into his saddle and quickly reloaded his piece: all this at full gallop. The bits they use are tremendously powerful, so that they can check their horses instantly, if necessary. They would have gone on much longer if it had not been for the dust, but that was so dense after all this riding about, that when His Excellency sent for the commanding officer to thank him and pay him compliments on the skill and cleverness of his men, we could hardly see either of them for the clouds of it, and the pretty speeches were made and answered amid paroxysms of choking and coughing.

After leaving Bareilly we had a very monotonous time, only once enlivened, when we halted for a day at a place called Gunnespore, by a visit from the Nawab of Rampore, through whose territory we were passing. He had behaved very well to the English at the time of the Mutiny, three or four years before, so we made it a point to be very civil and nice to him, for these native princes think a great deal of ceremonious attention. The main street, formed by the principal tents, was lined with soldiers as a guard of honour, and His Highness was received at the door of the Commander-in-Chief’s tent by His Excellency in person, with a brilliant staff behind and around him, bands playing, colours flying, and everything as smart and gay as possible. As we ladies had a great wish to see the show, some curtains (or ‘chicks’ as they are called) of scented grass had been hung up, so as to screen off a corner of the great tent, for the Nawab would have been terribly shocked to see unveiled ladies, or indeed ladies at all, assisting at a state ceremonial. Our presence would have spoiled it, so we were carefully hidden away and entreated to keep very quiet! However, in spite of these difficulties, we saw very well, and had an excellent view of the Nawab’s elephant, who was not only a huge creature with a splendid howdah of silver and ivory on his back, but had on his best clothes, consisting of a magnificent saddle-cloth to go under the howdah, about the size of a small carpet, and several enormous tassels hanging about his head, the largest of which was of silver, and hung down his nose in a most imposing manner. There were several other elephants, also very smartly caparisoned, and as soon as they reached the proper place, they all knelt; the Nawab and his attendants scrambled, in as dignified a way as they could, down their ornamented ladders; cordial and affectionate greetings were exchanged through the medium of the interpreters, and the gay group entered the tent. I was so disappointed in the Nawab! He was very fat and good-natured looking, but in spite of his purple satin robes, embroidered in silver and edged with large emeralds and pearls, he looked like an old cook in a dressing-gown! It must have been his cap which made me think directly of Gunter’s men, for although it was of white satin, and almost entirely covered with jewels, it was just the same shape as theirs. At this part of the ceremony, ‘necklaces of honour’ were put on, and I am very much afraid we giggled at the ridiculous appearance of our husbands and acquaintances, bedizened with large strings of silver knobs, or even flowers in some cases; the contrast was so great between their stalwart forms, bearded faces, and weather-stained uniforms, their breasts covered with medals, and these trumpery wreaths hung round their necks! However, it was kindly meant, and consequently well received. Trays of sweetmeats were handed round, and they had to eat them; you would not consider this a penance, I daresay, but wait till you are forty years old, and have been in a great many battles: gunpowder spoils your taste for comfits, I fancy. The visit lasted about twenty minutes, and was occupied entirely by mutual compliments. At last the servants reappeared, bearing salvers covered with beautiful embroidered cloths; underneath the cloths were vases of filagree silver containing exquisite scent-bottles filled with attar of roses: these were handed round. It was all very nice except the perfume—that was horrible: the attar was in the stage when it smells like turpentine. I know it to my cost, because I insisted afterwards on seeing the box, and stole one drop of the scent; it was so nasty I had to throw away my pocket-handkerchief, and nearly scrubbed the skin off my hands trying to get rid of the smell. After they had all gone through the pantomime of pouring the scent on their hands, the Nawab retired and mounted his grand elephant, and, with many bows and pretty speeches, they all went away to the sound of a salute of artillery. In the evening the Commander-in-Chief, his staff, and the principal officers, went in state to return His Highness’s visit, and the next day we resumed our march.

We reached Meerut about January 16, remained there for nearly a week, and then three long marches brought us as far as Delhi, which I thought the most beautiful place I had ever seen. There are ruins in every direction, but I have not time or space to tell you about them here, as we must remember that this is only an account of camp life. A terrible famine had raged the whole of the past year, and the sights and sounds we encountered at this town were heartrending. Every officer and soldier belonging to our camp subscribed a day’s pay for the starving people, and a large sum was left in the hands of the Relief Committee. As for me, I never went outside the tent without a bag of small coins called ‘pice,’ which was emptied in about two minutes. Returning one day to the tent with my usual exhausted purse, a poor woman threw herself before me holding up a child of about two years old in her arms. There was no need to tell me they were starving, for their bones were literally sticking out of their skins, and they had scarcely a shred of clothing over them. I told her as well as I could that I had no more money, but if she would wait a little she should have food, so I hurried into the tent and snatched off the luncheon table a loaf of bread with one hand and a large cake with the other, intending to return for some milk; I saw the poor little starving baby’s eyes glisten ravenously, and he clutched the cake, but before he could touch it, the mother had struck both the bread and the cake out of my hands, and trampled them under her feet, scolding me loudly all the time for attempting to ‘break her caste.’ She was so deeply affronted, that she would not even accept some pice which I offered her afterwards.

A few days after leaving Delhi we reached Kurnaul, where we had very good snipe-shooting, but did not halt there, as it was important to push on for Umballah. The heat was fiercer day by day, and the Commander-in-Chief was anxious to break up the camp before the hot winds set in. Between Kurnaul and Umballah we came in for a dust-storm; and as I do not suppose you ever saw, or perhaps ever heard of, such a thing, I must tell you a little about it.

Just as we had settled down quietly for the day in our tent, we were startled by hearing the ‘tap tap’ of the kelasse’s heavy wooden hammer on the tent-pegs. As they never require to drive the pegs further home, except in case of a sudden storm, we knew at once that they expected something of the kind; but as there was no symptom of rain, we could not imagine why these precautions were necessary. However, all was bustle and activity: the horses were led round to the lee side of their owners’ tents, and, instead of being fastened to a peg in the ground, each syce stood by his horse’s head, holding tight on to the halter, so as to soothe and pat it when it got frightened. All the servants who had nothing to do, huddled themselves together in a corner of the verandah; the saddles were brought under the same shelter, and at last the preparations were completed by the Khansamah bringing in the candlesticks, with the candles alight, and placing them in the centre compartment of the tent. My ayah was hovering about me with a long strip of white muslin in her hand, and made out from her incoherent speeches that she wanted to tie up my head in it, but before I consented to this, I took one more peep out of doors. From the weather-quarter a dense black cloud was moving swiftly up, and every now and then the wind rose in a sharp, short gust, which whistled and screamed among the cordage and flaps of the tents. All around me I saw hasty preparations for shelter going on, and my last glimpse was of the poor, much-enduring cook abandoning the little mud ovens he had just constructed as a substitute for a kitchen-range, and hurrying, with his assistants and quantities of pots and pans, towards a little bell-tent which the kelasses were pinning firmly down to the ground with great wooden pegs. It is of great importance in a dust-storm to have the tent firmly secured all round, for, if the wind once got underneath the canvas, the whole tent would be whisked off to the sky in a moment! I am very much afraid I should rather have liked to see some one else’s tent flying away, it would have looked so funny: however, the kelasses had made such good arrangements that no accidents happened.

In the camels’ camp I saw all the drivers making their charges kneel down with their backs to the coming storm, whilst the men themselves crouched on the lee side of the camels, but there was no time for me to notice what the elephants were going to do, for the storm was almost upon us; the outer air already felt suffocating, so I very reluctantly retired to get my turban put on. Scarcely had the servants fastened firmly to the ground the large curtain which formed our tent-door, and which was generally festooned back with green wreaths of mango-leaves, when the tent shook and swayed backwards and forwards, and in a few moments everything was thickly covered with the finest dust, which had filtered through the numerous folds of the canvas. It was impossible to read or work, the candles only gave a little gleam of light through the dense atmosphere, and all we touched was gritty. For four long hours our imprisonment lasted, and it was not until sunset that the kelasses pronounced it safe to release us. As soon as the tent flaps were lifted up we all burst out laughing at each other—such objects you never saw! No one had an eyebrow or an eyelash to be seen; the bronzed and red complexions which outdoor life had produced, were all hidden under a thick coating of dust, and we needed only a few streaks of paint to have looked like Clown in the pantomime, for our faces were quite as white as his. We could see the dense cloud moving on to the south-west, but all was beautifully clear behind it; only a slight haze between us and it showed that the atmosphere was not quite free from dust a little beyond us. I looked at the horses,—they were all as white as if they had been powdered with flour; so were their syces; and the ‘bheesties,’ or water-carriers, were very busy filling the large goat-skins which serve them as water-jugs, to give every live thing which had been outside a good drink, and to wash the dust out of their eyes and ears. The camels had buried their noses in the sand, and did not appear to have suffered at all.

I went that afternoon to the elephants’ camp to see how they had fared, and found them not at all the worse for the storm: the dense grove of trees had been a great protection to them, and their attendants had taken shelter in the little tents which the great creature carries for his servants. Do you know, each elephant has a cook to bake his chupatties, or little cakes, for him, a grass-cutter to go out and find nice fresh long grass, or the green tops of the sugar cane, a bheestie to supply him with quantities of water, and a tent-pitcher, or kelasse, to look after the shelter of all these attendants; and then he has his mahout, or rider, besides. This last personage is the only one whom the elephant will obey, and I heard curious stories of the office of mahout to the same elephant being handed down from father to son. One old man told me calmly that his grandfather was my elephant’s first instructor, but I cannot tell if he was right. When we paid them a visit upon the afternoon of the storm, the huge beasts were taking a bath, or rather giving it to themselves by filling their trunks with water and dashing it over their heads, trumpeting and enjoying themselves immensely; at a little distance the cooks were busy baking the chupatties—a muffin as large as a soup-plate, and nearly as thick—in mud ovens, and the grass-cutters had been down to a ‘jheel’ or pond near to wash the dust off the large bundles of grass for the elephants’ suppers. We talked a little to the mahouts, and one very picturesque old man seemed exceedingly proud of his elephant’s superior slyness and cunning, and begged us to stay and see him ‘cheat;’ so we waited till ‘Burra-sahib,’ or ‘Mr. Large,’ had finished his bath, and came slowly up to his mahout for his supper. You must not suppose that the elephants walked about just as they liked: they had a heavy, long iron chain fastened to one of their hind legs, and this was attached to a small peg loosely driven into the ground. If the elephant had made the smallest effort he could easily have walked off with his peg, but he never tried to get away. The mahout called out to the cook to bring the chupatties, and made us retire behind a tree and watch what Burra-sahib did. As soon as the cook went away the elephant put up his trunk and broke off a large bough of the tree above him, which he laid on his head: this they generally do to serve as a brush to keep off flies, so he knew _that_ was nothing remarkable. He then looked slyly around him with his bright little cunning eyes, and as he could not see his mahout he thought the coast was clear, and hastily snatched up a chupattie, which he put under the branch on the top of his head. I noticed how carefully he felt with his flexible trunk if any edge was uncovered, and arranged the leaves so as to hide his spoil completely. Burra-sahib then raised his voice and bellowed for his supper in loud and discordant tones; the mahout ran up as if he had been a long distance off, stood in front of him, and commenced handing him the chupatties, counting as he did so, one, two, three, and so on. The elephant received each in his trunk and put it gently into his huge month, bolting it as if it had been a small pill. Twelve chupatties was the allowance, and he required this sort of food to keep him in good condition. When the mahout came to No. 11 muffin, he looked about for the twelfth in great dismay, pretending that he could not think what had become of it, and calling for the cook to scold him, searching on the ground and wondering, in good Hindoostanee, ‘where that other chupattie could be.’ The elephant joined in the search, turning over an empty box which was near, and trumpeting loudly. The mahout was delighted to see how much this farce amused me, and at last he turned suddenly to the elephant, who was still hunting eagerly for the missing chupattie, and reviled him as a thief and a ‘big owl,’ adding all sorts of epithets, and desiring him to kneel down, which Burra-sahib did very reluctantly. The mahout then scrambled up on his head, snatched off the branch and flung down the chupattie, belabouring the elephant well with the bough which had served to conceal it. It seems that this trick had been played successfully many times before Burra-sahib was found out, and the poor cook used to get into trouble and be accused of keeping the missing chupattie for his own private consumption.

Our elephant was a great coward; he was abjectly afraid of a small Skye terrier belonging to one of the party, and this little dog knew quite well how to bully the huge creature. ‘Nettle’ would run along the road behind a hedge or a mud wall, and suddenly jump out at the elephant, barking furiously and making little dashes at his trunk. This terrified him; he shied across the road, ran first forwards and to each side, and finally turned round and shuffled away as fast as he could, with Nettle snapping at his heels. It required a great deal of cuffing with the battle-axe I have told you about, to bring him back to the right road if once he was driven off it by the small dog.