The country from this place, through Ranachitty to Dunghye, is most beautiful; fine hills, from the tops of which you have a noble and extensive view. Sometimes I was reminded of my own dear forest, which in parts it much resembles. The weak Calcutta bullocks finding it hard work, we were obliged to hire six more hackeries. We rode the whole of this stage. The road was too bad, and the hills too steep, for the buggy; but as it was nearly shaded the whole distance by high trees, the heat of the sun did not affect us. Tigers are found in this pass; and when Mootee my Arab snorted, and drew back apparently alarmed, I expected a sortie from the jungle. At this stage a horse ran away in a buggy, alarmed by a bear sleeping in the road.
At the Dunghye bungalow some travellers had been extremely poetical:
"Dunghye! Dunghye! with hills so high,
A sorry place art thou;
Thou boasts not e'en a blade of grass,
Enough to feed an hungry ass,
Or e'en a half-starved cow."
Nevertheless, we saw fine jungle and grass in plenty on every side, and were told partridge and jungle fowl were abundant.
En route were several parties of fakirs, who said they were going to Jugunnath. These rascals had some capital tattoos with them. Several of these men had one withered arm raised straight, with the long nails growing through the back of the hand. These people are said to be great thieves; and when any of them were encamped near us on the march, we directed the chaukidārs (watchmen) to keep a good look out, on our horses as well as our chattels. The adage says of the fakir, "Externally he is a saint, but internally a devil[1]."
At Sherghattee we delivered the stealer of the spoon over to the magistrate. In the evening I went out with the gentlemen on an elephant; they had some sport with their guns.
At Baroon we bought some uncut Soane pebbles, which turned out remarkably good when cut and polished. We rode
- ↑ Oriental Proverbs, No. 18.
