Three Months of My Life | Page 2

visit to Kashmir. It may
seem a strange jumble of description and sentiment, jocularity and
seriousness. During the greater part of each day I enjoyed perfect rest,
smoking and thinking--sometimes soberly, often I fear idly--and for
mere occupation sake, my thoughts were written as they arose. My
mind as influenced by scene or incident, is fully exposed in these pages,
and while I have concealed nothing, neither have I added to that which
I originally indited. I am necessarily, and indeed intentionally
egotistical, because I write for those who will chiefly value a personal
narrative. Still, I am not ashamed if others see my book, although I
would deprecate their criticism by begging them to remember that I
only offer it for the perusal of those near and dear to me.

INTRODUCTION.
In the early morning of Midsummer's-day, 1868, I might have been
seen slowly wending my way towards the office of the Deputy
Inspector General of Hospitals, at Peshawur--for the purpose of
appearing before the standing Medical Committee of the station, and
having an enquiry made concerning the state of my health. A Dooley
followed me lest my strength should prove inadequate to the task of
walking a quarter of a mile. But let me make my description as short as

the Committee did their enquiry. My face, as white as the clothes I
wore, told more than my words could, and I was hardly required to
recount how that one burning May-day I was called at noon to visit a
sick woman, and that while all other Europeans were in their closed and
darkened bungalows with punkahs swinging, and thermautidotes
blowing cool breezes, I went forth alone on my medical mission to
encounter the fierce gaze of the baneful sun, and was overpowered by
its fiery influence, or how that I laid a weary month on the sick bed,
tormented by day with a never ceasing headache, and by night with a
terrible dread, worse than any pain, or to conclude, how the deadly
climate of that notoriously evil station afforded me no prospect of
improvement. This relation was scarcely needed to procure me a
certificate, stating that three months leave of absence to Murree was
absolutely essential for my recovery, and a recommendation that I
might be allowed to proceed immediately in anticipation of the leave
being granted. So the next evening saw me start from Peshawur for
Rawul Pindee, in a Dâk Gharie, accompanied by my dog "Silly" and
my Madrapee servant or "Boy." Onwards we sped at a gallop, the
horses being changed every six miles, through Nowshera, the furnace;
over the rapid and icy cold Indus by boat; past Fort Attock, the oven in
which our soldiers are done to death; and Hussan Aboul of Lallah
Rooke celebrity; arriving at the French Hotel at Pinder, ten miles from
Peshawur the following morning. That day I called upon the Officers of
the 6th Foot, with whom I had served in Jersey, and was persuaded to
dine at mess. A melancholy dinner it was for me, meeting old friends
whom I had not seen for so long. Yet not possessing energy enough for
conversation or feeling the spirit of "Hail fellows, well met." I felt that
my moody silence and ghostlike appearance (for I was dressed in black)
threw a gloom over them. This was no doubt a morbid fancy as also
was perhaps the idea that they looked at me with pitying eyes. But
these feelings seized me, and increased till they became unbearable,
and I was glad to escape to my Hotel.

"THREE MONTHS OF MY LIFE."
A DIARY.

JULY 4th, 1868.--Started from Murree for Kashmir at 5.30 a.m. Bell,
Surgeon 36th Regt. [Since deceased] came with me four miles. Walked
on expecting the dandy to overtake me, but it did not, and I marched all
the way, nine miles up a steep hill to Khaira Gullee, where I halted and
put up in one of the old sheds formerly used by the working party when
the road was being made. I am not tired, though my left heel is blistered,
which is fair considering I have not walked half a mile for more than a
month. The road is excellent and the scenery fine, the Khuds being
sometimes deep, but nothing like the eastern Himalayas. The forest too
is quite different, fir trees predominating here. Saw many beautiful
birds, and regretted I had not brought my gun. In the evening a
thunderstorm came on with a cold wind from the north, so I made a
good fire with a few fir logs. In the middle of the night the storm
became very violent, and large hailstones fell.
JULY 5th.--Got away at sunrise, the rain having quite cleared off, and
marched on to Doonga