Letters from India Volume II/From the Hon F H Eden to a Friend 6
The ‘overland despatch,’ which is very apt to do something untact, is going to set off just as we are in the very act of settling ourselves at Simla, and how letters are to be written and furniture pushed about till it falls into its own niche is more than I can say. But, now that I have sent off the last volume of my journal, and do not mean to begin another till we set off marching again, I mean to write to you at all odd opportunities, though my spirit is broken—right in two—by the conduct of that great monster the sea. I have not had a letter from you for more than two months, and how I should I do not know, for no London ships ever come. In a day or two we ought to have the ‘overland despatch,’ and be told about you till the beginning of February.
These mountains are going to be to me all that in such a country it is possible to expect mountains to be; and their intrinsic value is increased by the dead, brown, burning plains in which they are set and the recollection of our April fates in Calcutta—punkahs, mosquitoes, rooms like dark ovens in the house, and red dust and hot, stifling air out of it. Here we have hills above, below, and around us; fires burning in every room; bracing air blowing in at the windows; snowy mountains in the distance; the great rhododendrons just getting covered with flowers; and roads and paths without end for riding, which we pursue with a kind of horrid pleasing consciousness that, if the pony takes fright at anything on one side of him, he will go down a precipice on the other. We have only been here two days, yet I see the politics of the place turns upon riding horses or ponies. The ‘horse’ party is the strongest in every sense of the word, because, if the ‘pony’ party grows provoking, it can kick it over the sides of a rock. We call ponies here gouits. I do not know why, except that we never call anything by the name that belongs to it. Because the Commander-in-Chief recommended horses, of course Emily and I ambled up the hill on ponies. And he came out with all his staff to meet George, all of them sworded and cocked-hatted, riding on great horses. The horses all began to kick, because they were not used to swords. And precipices on each side of us! I said in a tone of considerable sharpness, ‘I’ll trouble you not to kick my little pony with your shocking great horses,’ and, not knowing where to go for safety, was on the brink of making the pony clamber up Sir Henry and his horse. He looked like the great Man Mountain compared to us, and it would not have been steeper than climbing up any of the mountains here.
I am sure you will be sorry to hear that Chance has been ill. Some apprehensions were entertained that the hill air would not agree with him, but he is now convalescent. Rolla is supremely happy here; goes in and out of the house as he pleases; has discovered a large pumpkin; has frequently contributions of pears and apples pouring in to him as offerings from foreign potentates; wears red velvet and gold constantly, because he hates cold; sits upright in an arm-chair and warms his hands by the fire and then steps out to a sunny fir-tree, which he has adopted for his own property.
I think this house quite perfection; only one floor; two of the rooms are very large, overlooking hills and mountains that never end. Our own small rooms open into the large ones, and there is a verandah all round the house. ’s house is close to our’s, his garden joining our garden. We are upon the brink of going to law about the boundaries and an apricot-tree, which will have only enough eating on it for one. He came home from his tiger-hunting expedition, declaring that it had been excellent sport. The account he wrote of one day did not sound pleasant. They came upon six tigers in a ravine, which all charged—two of them on ’s elephant and three on General C.’s. They had killed two and wounded another, when a nest of hornets flew out on them. extracted fifty stings from his face, and another of the party took to his bed. However, they shot on, and the bank gave way, and his elephant rolling down among the tigers, who were happily too badly wounded to do any harm. But I don’t think I will go out again to see them shoot tigers; certainly not when water is scarce, for then they wonder about in bodies.
The aides-de-camp are all settled on different hills, and come in breathless and disturbed to dinner, because they are only used to plains. My dearest, I must finish, I am making my sitting-room look lovely, only somebody is turning my sofa with its back to the view. I think the ‘overland despatch’ will bring me a letter from you this time.