A Journey to Katmandu | Page 4

to talk with delight of his visit
to Europe, looking back with regret on the gaieties of the English and
French capitals, and recounting with admiration the wonders of
civilization he had seen in those cities. He was loudest in his praise of
England. This may have arisen from a wish to gratify his auditory, and
it certainly had that effect. He had not thought it necessary, however, to
perfect himself in the language of either country beyond a few of what
he considered the more important phrases. His stock consisted chiefly
of--How do you do?--Very well, thank you--Will you sit down?--You
are very pretty--which pithy sentences he used to rattle out with great
volubility, fortunately not making an indiscriminate use of them.
But my particular friend was the youngest of his two fat brothers,
whose merits, alas! were unknown in England, the more elevated
position of the Minister Sahib monopolizing all the attention of the
lion-loving public. Colonel Dhere Shum Shere, such was his name, was
the most jovial, light- hearted, and thoroughly unselfish being
imaginable, brave as a lion, as recent events in Nepaul have proved,
always anxious to please, and full of amusing conversation, which,
however, from my limited knowledge of Hindostanee, I was unable
fully to appreciate.
It is considered a breach of hospitality to make invidious remarks
affecting the character of the mansion in which you are a guest; but
although my recollections of the Atalanta are most agreeable in
reference to the kindness of the officers, I must say she was a most
indisputable tub; and if there is an individual who deserves to be turned

slowly before the fire in her engine-room, so as to be kept in a state of
perpetual blister, it is the Parsee contractor who furnished the
provisions, for so meagre was the supply that we could barely satisfy
the cravings of hunger.
On the morning of the tenth day after leaving Ceylon we came in sight
of the city of palaces, and, sweeping up its magnificent river, soon after
anchored amidst a host of other shipping.
Of Calcutta I need say nothing; Chouringhee Road is almost as well
known in these days of quick communication as Piccadilly; this is not
quite the case with towns in the interior: if it is easy to get to Calcutta,
it is not so easy to get beyond, and the means of locomotion by which
the traveller makes the journey to Benares are of the most original
nature.
The morning of New Year's Day found me comfortably ensconced in a
roomy carriage, built almost upon the model of an English stage-coach,
in which, with my fellow-traveller, I had passed the night, and which
was being dragged along at the rate of about four miles an hour by ten
coolies, harnessed to it in what the well-meaning philanthropist of
Exeter Hall would call a most barbarous way.
The road along which we were travelling in this extraordinary manner
was not, as might be expected, impassable for horses; on the contrary,
it was an excellent macadamized and perfectly level road, denominated
the Great Trunk Road of Bengal.
The country through which this road led us was flat, stale, but not
unprofitable, since on either side were paddy-fields extending ad
infinitum, studded here and there with clumps of palms.
The climate was delightful, and the morning air tempted us to uncoil
ourselves from our night-wrappers, and take a brisk walk in the dust;
after which we mounted the coach-box, and devised sundry practical
methods for accelerating our team, who however were equally
ingenious in contriving to save themselves fatigue.

The mid-day sun at last ridded them of their tormentors, and we once
more betook ourselves to our comfortable beds in the interior of the
conveyance, there to moralize over the barbarism of a man, calling
himself an enlightened Englishman, in employing men instead of
horses to drag along two of his fellow-countrymen, who showed
themselves even more dead to every feeling of humanity by the way in
which they urged on their unfortunate fellow-creatures. These coolies
were certainly very well paid, and need not have been so employed had
they not chosen--for they had all applied for their several
appointments--but then the ignominy of the thing!
And so we rolled lazily along, hoping to reach Benares some time
within the next fortnight. Before dark we passed through Burdwan,
where a few Bengal civilians vegetate on large salaries, to do the work
of the rajah, who is still more highly paid not to interfere. He lives
magnificently in his palace, and they live magnificently in theirs. We
arrived at a small rest-house at night, where we had the satisfaction of
eating a fowl in cutlets an hour after it had been enjoying the sweets of
life.
There is