at all, and where neither sheep nor kid will, when killed, remain eatable more than a day or two. The truth is, that where people carry every thing with them, bed, tent, furniture, wine, beer, and crockery, for six months together, no small quantity of beasts of burden may well be supposed necessary; and in countries such as those which I have now been traversing, where every man is armed, where every third or fourth man, a few years since, was a thief by profession, and where, in spite of English influence and supremacy, the forests, mountains, and multitudes of petty sovereignties, afford all possible scope for the practical application of Wordsworth’s “good old rule,” you may believe me that it is neither pomp nor cowardice which has thus fenced your friend in with spears, shields, and bayonets. After all, though this way of life has much that is monotonous and wearisome, though it grievously dissipates time and thought, and though it is almost incompatible with the pursuits in which I have been accustomed to find most pleasure, it is by no means the worst part of an Indian existence. It is a great point in this climate to be actually compelled to rise, day after day, before the dawn, and to ride from twelve to eighteen miles before breakfast. It is a still greater to have been saved a residence in Calcutta during the sultry months, and to have actually seen and felt frost, ice, and snow, on the summits of Kemaoon, and under the shadow of the Himalaya. And though the greater part of the Company’s own provinces, except Kemaoon, are by no means
