Himalayan Journals Part 2

It was noon ere I arrived at Lieutenant Beadle's, at Belcuppee (alt.

1219 feet), glad enough of the hearty welcome I received, being very hot, dusty, and hungry. The country about his bungalow is very pretty, from the number of wooded hills and large trees, especially of banyan and peepul, n.o.ble oak-like Mahowa (_Ba.s.sia_), _Nauclea,_ Mango, and _Ficus infectoria._ These are all scattered, however, and do not form forest, such as in a stunted form clothes the hills, consisting of _Diospyros, Terminalia, Gmelina, Nauclea parvifolia, Buchanania,_ etc. The rocks are still hornblende-schist and granite, with a covering of alluvium, full of quartz pebbles. Insects and birds are numerous, the latter consisting of jays, crows, doves, sparrows, and maina (_Pastor_); also the _Phoenicophaus tristis_ ("Mahoka" of the natives), with a note like that of the English cuckoo, as heard late in the season.

I remained two days with Lieutenant Beadle, enjoying in his society several excursions to the hot springs, etc. These springs (called Soorujkoond) are situated close to the road, near the mouth of a valley, in a remarkably pretty spot. They are, of course, objects of worship; and a ruined temple stands close behind them, with three very conspicuous trees--a peepul, a banyan, and a white, thick-stemmed, leafless _Sterculia,_ whose branches bore dense cl.u.s.ters of greenish foetid flowers. The hot springs are four in number, and rise in as many ruined brick tanks about two yards across. Another tank, fed by a cold spring, about twice that size, flows between two of the hot, only two or three paces distant from one of the latter on either hand. All burst through the gneiss rocks, meet in one stream after a few yards, and are conducted by bricked ca.n.a.ls to a pool of cold water, about eighty yards off.

The temperatures of the hot springs were respectively 169 degrees, 170 degrees, 173 degrees, and 190 degrees; of the cold, 84 degrees at 4 p.m., and 75 degrees at 7 a.m. the following morning. The hottest is the middle of the five. The water of the cold spring is sweet but not good, and emits gaseous bubbles; it was covered with a green floating _Conferva._ Of the four hot springs, the most copious is about three feet deep, bubbles constantly, boils eggs, and though brilliantly clear, has an exceedingly nauseous taste. This and the other warm ones cover the bricks and surrounding rocks with a thick incrustation of salts.

_Confervae_ abound in the warm stream from the springs, and two species, one ochreous brown, and the other green, occur on the margins of the tanks themselves, and in the hottest water; the brown is the best Salamander, and forms a belt in deeper water than the green; both appear in broad luxuriant strata, wherever the temp. is cooled down to 168 degrees, and as low as 90 degrees. Of flowering plants, three showed in an eminent degree a const.i.tution capable of resisting the heat, if not a predilection for it; these were all _Cyperaceae,_ a _Cyperus_ and an _Eleocharis,_ having their roots in water of 100 degrees, and where they are probably exposed to greater heat, and a _Fimbristylis_ at 98 degrees; all were very luxuriant.

From the edges of the four hot springs I gathered sixteen species of flowering plants, and from the cold tank five, which did not grow in the hot. A water-beetle, _Colymbetes_(?) and _Notonecta,_ abounded in water at 112 degrees, with quant.i.ties of dead sh.e.l.ls; frogs were very lively, with live sh.e.l.ls, at 90 degrees, and with various other water beetles. Having no means of detecting the salts of this water, I bottled some for future a.n.a.lysis.* [For an account of the _Confervae,_ and of the mineral const.i.tuents of the waters, etc. see Appendix B.]

On the following day I botanized in the neighbourhood, with but poor success. An oblique-leaved fig climbs the other trees, and generally strangles them: two epiphytal _Orchideae_ also occur on the latter, _Vanda Roxburghii_ and an _Oberonia._ Dodders (_Cuscuta_) of two species, and _Ca.s.sytha,_ swarm over and conceal the bushes with their yellow thread-like stems.

I left Belcuppee on the 8th of February, following Mr. Williams'

camp. The morning was clear and cold, the temperature only 56 degrees. We crossed the nearly dry broad bed of the Burkutta river, a n.o.ble stream during the rains, carrying along huge boulders of granite and gneiss. Near this I pa.s.sed the Cholera-tree, a famous peepul by the road side, so called from a detachment of infantry having been attacked and decimated at the spot by that fell disease; it is covered with inscriptions and votive tokens in the shape of rags, etc. We continued to ascend to 1360 feet, where I came upon a small forest of the Indian Olibanum (_Boswellia thurifera_), conspicuous from its pale bark, and spreading curved branches, leafy at their tips; its general appearance is a good deal like that of the mountain ash. The gum, celebrated throughout the East, was flowing abundantly from the trunk, very fragrant and transparent. The ground was dry, sterile, and rocky; kunker, the curious formation mentioned at Chapter 1, appears in the alluvium, which I had not elsewhere seen at this elevation.

Descending to the village of Burshoot, we lost sight of the _Boswellia,_ and came upon a magnificent tope of mango, banyan, and peepul, so far superior to anything hitherto met with, that we were glad to choose such a pleasant halting-place for breakfast.

There are a few lofty fan-palms here too, great rarities in this soil and elevation: one, about eighty feet high, towered above some wretched hovels, displaying the curious proportions of this tribe of palms: first, a short cone, tapering to one-third the height of the stem, the trunk then swelling to two-thirds, and again tapering to the crown. Beyond this, the country again ascends to Burree (alt.

1169 feet), another dawk bungalow, a barren place, which we left on the following morning.

So little was there to observe, that I again amused myself by watching footsteps, the precision of which in the sandy soil was curious. Looking down from the elephant, I was interested by seeing them all in _relief,_ instead of _depressed,_ the slanting rays of the sun in front producing this kind of mirage. Before us rose no more of those wooded hills that had been our companions for the last 120 miles, the absence of which was a sign of the nearly approaching termination of the great hilly plateau we had been traversing for that distance.

Chorparun, at the top of the Dunwah pa.s.s, is situated on an extended barren flat, 1320 feet above the sea, and from it the descent from the table-land to the level of the Soane valley, a little above that of the Ganges at Patna, is very sudden. The road is carried zizgag down a rugged hill of gneiss, with a descent of nearly 1000 feet in six miles, of which 600 are exceedingly steep. The pa.s.s is well wooded, with abundance of bamboo, _Bombax, Ca.s.sia, Acacia,_ and _Butea,_ with _Calotropis,_ the purple Mudar, a very handsome road-side plant, which I had not seen before, but which, with the _Argemone Mexicana,_ was to be a companion for hundreds of miles farther. All the views in the pa.s.s are very picturesque, though wanting in good foliage, such as _Ficus_ would afford, of which I did not see one tree. Indeed the rarity of the genus (except _F. infectoria_) in the native woods of these hills, is very remarkable. The banyan and peepul always appear to be planted, as do the tamarind and mango.

Dunwah, at the foot of the pa.s.s, is 620 feet above the sea, and nearly 1000 below the mean level of the highland I had been traversing. Every thing bears here a better aspect; the woods at the foot of the hills afforded many plants; the bamboo (_B. stricta_) is green instead of yellow and white; a little castor-oil is cultivated, and the Indian date (low and stunted) appears about the cottages.

In the woods I heard and saw the wild peac.o.c.k for the first time.

Its voice is not to be distinguished from that of the tame bird in England, a curious instance of the perpetuation of character under widely different circ.u.mstances, for the crow of the wild jungle-fowl does not rival that of the farm-yard c.o.c.k.

In the evening we left Dunwah for Barah (alt. 480 feet), pa.s.sing over very barren soil, covered with low jungle, the original woods having apparently been cut for fuel. Our elephant, a timid animal, came on a drove of camels in the dark by the road-side, and in his alarm insisted on doing battle, tearing through the th.o.r.n.y jungle, regardless of the mahout, and still more of me: the uproar raised by the camel-drivers was ridiculous, and the danger to my barometer imminent.

We proceeded on the 11th of February to Sheergotty, where Mr.

Williams and his camp were awaiting our arrival. Wherever cultivation appeared the crops were tolerably luxuriant, but a great deal of the country yielded scarcely half-a-dozen kinds of plants to any ten square yards of ground. The most prevalent were _Carissa carandas, Olax scandens,_ two _Zizyphi,_ and the ever-present _Acacia Catechu._ The climate is, however, warmer and much moister, for I here observed dew to be formed, which I afterwards found to be usual on the low grounds. That its presence is due to the increased amount of vapour in the atmosphere I shall prove: the amount of radiation, as shown by the cooling of the earth and vegetation, being the same in the elevated plain and lower levels.* [See Appendix C.]

The good soil was very richly cultivated with poppy (which I had not seen before), sugar-cane, wheat, barley, mustard, rape, and flax.

At a distance a field of poppies looks like a green lake, studded with white water-lilies. The houses, too, are better, and have tiled roofs; while, in such situations, the road is lined with trees.

A retrospect of the ground pa.s.sed over is unsatisfactory, as far as botany is concerned, except as showing how potent are the effects of a dry soil and climate during one season of the year upon a vegetation which has no desert types. During the rains probably many more species would be obtained, for of annuals I scarcely found twenty. At that season, however, the jungles of Behar and Birbhoom, though far from tropically luxuriant, are singularly unhealthy.

In a geographical point of view the range of hills between Burdwan and the Soave is interesting, as being the north-east continuation of a chain which crosses the broadest part of the peninsula of India, from the Gulf of Cambay to the junction of the Ganges and Hoogly at Rajmahal. This range runs south of the Soane and Kymore, which it meets I believe at Omerkuntuk;* [A lofty mountain said to be 7000-8000 feet high.] the granite of this and the sandstone of the other, being there both overlaid with trap. Further west again, the ranges separate, the southern still betraying a nucleus of granite, forming the Satpur range, which divides the valley of the Taptee from that of the Nerbudda. The Paras-nath range is, though the most difficult of definition, the longer of the two parallel ranges; the Vindhya continued as the Kymore, terminating abruptly at the Fort of Chunar on the Ganges. The general and geological features of the two, especially along their eastern course, are very different.

This consists of metamorphic gneiss, in various highly inclined beds, through which granite hills protrude, the loftiest of which is Paras-nath. The north-east Vindhya (called Kymore), on the other hand, consists of nearly horizontal beds of sandstone, overlying inclined beds of non-fossiliferous limestone. Between the latter and the Paras-nath gneiss, come (in order of superposition) shivered and undulating strata of metamorphic quartz, hornstone, hornstone- porphyry, jaspers, etc. These are thrown up, by greenstone I believe, along the north and north-west boundary of the gneiss range, and are to be recognised as forming the rocks of Colgong, of Sultangunj, and of Monghyr, on the Ganges, as also various detached hills near Gyah, and along the upper course of the Soane. From these are derived the beautiful agates and cornelians, so famous under the name of Soane pebbles, and they are equally common on the Curruckpore range, as on the south bank of the Soane, so much so in the former position as to have been used in the decoration of the walls of the now ruined palaces near Bhagulpore.

In the route I had taken, I had crossed the eastern extremity alone of the range, commencing with a very gradual ascent, over the alluvial plains of the west bank of the Hoogly, then over laterite, succeeded by sandstone of the Indian coal era, which is succeeded by the granite table-land, properly so called. A little beyond the coal fields, the table-land reaches an average height of 1130 feet, which is continued for upwards of 100 miles, to the Dunwah pa.s.s. Here the descent is sudden to plains, which, continuous with those of the Ganges, run up the Soane till beyond Rotasghur. Except for the occasional ridges of metamorphic rocks mentioned above, and some hills of intruded greenstone, the lower plain is stoneless, its subjacent rocks being covered with a thicker stratum of the same alluvium which is thinly spread over the higher table-land above.

This range is of great interest from its being the source of many important rivers,* [The chief rivers from this, the great watershed of western Bengal, flow north-west and south-east; a few comparatively insignificant streams running north to the Ganges.

Amongst the former are the Rheru, the Kunner, and the Coyle, which contribute to the Soane; amongst the latter, the Dammooda, Adji, and Barakah, flow into the Hoogly, and the Subunrika, Braminee, and Mahanuddee into the Bay of Bengal.] and of all those which water the country between the Soane, Hoogly, and Ganges, as well as from its deflecting the course of the latter river, which washes its base at Rajmahal, and forcing it to take a sinuous course to the sea. In its climate and botany it differs equally from the Gangetic plains to the north, and from the hot, damp, and exuberant forests of Orissa to the south. Nor are its geological features less different, or its concomitant and in part resultant characters of agriculture and native population. Still further west, the great rivers of the peninsula have their origin, the Nerbudda and Taptee flowing west to the gulf of Cambay, the Cane to the Jumna, the Soane to the Ganges, and the northern feeders of the G.o.davery to the Bay of Bengal.

On the 12th of February, we left Sheergotty (alt. 463 feet), crossing some small streams, which, like all else seen since leaving the Dunwah Pa.s.s, flow N. to the Ganges. Between Sheergotty and the Soane, occur many of the isolated hills of greenstone, mentioned above, better known to the traveller from having been telegraphic stations.

Some are much impregnated with iron, and whether for their colour, the curious outlines of many, or their position, form quaint, and in some cases picturesque features in the otherwise tame landscape.

The road being highly cultivated, and the Date-palm becoming more abundant, we encamped in a grove of these trees. All were curiously distorted; the trunks growing zigzag, from the practice of yearly tapping the alternate sides for toddy. The incision is just below the crown, and slopes upwards and inwards: a vessel is hung below the wound, and the juice conducted into it by a little piece of bamboo.

This operation spoils the fruit, which, though eaten, is small, and much inferior to the African date.

At Mudunpore (alt. 440 feet) a thermometer, sunk 3 feet 4 inches in the soil, maintained a constant temperature of 71.5 degrees, that of the air varying from 77.5 degrees, at 3 p.m., to 62 at daylight the following morning; when we moved on to Nourunga (alt. 340 feet), where I bored to 3 feet 8 inches with a heavy iron jumper through an alluvium of such excessive tenacity, that eight natives were employed for four hours in the operation. In both this and another hole, 4 feet 8 inches, the temperature was 72 degrees at 10 p.m.; and on the following morning 71.5 degrees in the deepest hole, and 70 degrees in the shallower: that of the external air varied from 71 degrees at 3 p.m., to 57 degrees at daylight on the following morning. At the latter time I took the temperature of the earth near the surface, which showed, surface 53 degrees, 1 inch 57 degrees, 2 inches 58 degrees, 4 inches 62 degrees, 7 inches 64 degrees.

The following day we marched to Baroon (alt. 345 feet) on the alluvial banks of the Soane, crossing a deep stream by a pretty suspension bridge, of which the piers were visible two miles off, so level is the road. The Soane is here three miles wide, its nearly dry bed being a desert of sand, resembling a vast arm of the sea when the tide is out: the banks are very barren, with no trees near, and but very few in the distance. The houses were scarcely visible on the opposite side, behind which the Kymore mountains rise. The Soane is a cla.s.sical river, being now satisfactorily identified with the Eran.o.boas of the ancients.* [The etymology of Eran.o.boas is undoubtedly _Hierrinia Vahu_ (Sanskrit), the golden-armed.

Sons is also the Sanskrit for gold. The stream is celebrated for its agates (Soane pebbles), which are common, but gold is not now obtained from it.]

The alluvium is here cut into a cliff, ten or twelve feet above the bed of the river, and against it the sand is blown in naked _dunes._ At 2 p.m., the surface-sand was heated to 110 degrees where sheltered from the wind, and 104 degrees in the open bed of the river. To compare the rapidity and depth to which the heat is communicated by pure sand, and by the tough alluvium, I took the temperature at some inches depth in both. That the alluvium absorbs the heat better, and retains it longer, would appear from the following, the only observations I could make, owing to the tenacity of the soil.

2 p.m.

Surface 104 degrees 22.5 inches 93 degrees 5 inches 88 degrees Sand at this depth 78 degrees.

5 a.m.

Surface 51 degrees 28 inches 68 degrees

Finding the fresh milky juice of _Calotropis_ to be only 72 degrees, I was curious to ascertain at what depth this temperature was to be obtained in the sand of the river-bed, where the plant grew.

Surface 104.5 degrees, 1 inch 102 degrees, 2 inches 94 degrees, 2.5 inches 90 degrees, 3.5 inches 85 degrees (Compact), 8 inches 73 degrees (Wet), 15 inches 72 degrees (Wet).

The power this plant exercises of maintaining a low temperature of 72 degrees, though the main portion which is subterraneous is surrounded by a soil heated to between 90 degrees and 104 degrees, is very remarkable, and no doubt proximately due to the rapidity of evaporation from the foliage, and consequent activity in the circulation. Its exposed leaves maintained a temperature of 80 degrees, nearly 25 degrees cooler than the similarly exposed sand and alluvium. On the same night the leaves were cooled down to 54 degrees, when the sand had cooled to 51 degrees. Before daylight the following morning the sand had cooled to 43 degrees, and the leaves of the _Calotropis_ to 45.5 degrees. I omitted to observe the temperature of the sap at the latter time; but the sand at the same depth (15 inches) as that at which its temperature and that of the plant agreed at mid-day, was 68 degrees. And a.s.suming this to be the heat of the plant, we find that the leaves are heated by solar radiation during the day 8 degrees, and cooled by nocturnal radiation, 22.5 degrees.

Mr. Theobald (my companion in this and many other rambles) pulled a lizard from a hole in the bank. Its throat was mottled with scales of brown and yellow. Three ticks had fastened on it, each of a size covering three or four scales: the first was yellow, corresponding with the yellow colour of the animal's belly, where it lodged, the second brown, from the lizard's head; but the third, which was clinging to the parti-coloured scales of the neck, had its body parti-coloured, the hues corresponding with the individual scales which they covered. The adaptation of the two first specimens in colour to the parts to which they adhered, is sufficiently remarkable; but the third case was most extraordinary.

During the night of the 14th of February, I observed a beautiful display, apparently of the Aurora borealis, an account of which will be found in the Appendix.

_February_ 15.--Our pa.s.sage through the Soane sands was very tedious, though accomplished in excellent style, the elephants pushing forward the heavy waggons of mining tools with their foreheads. The wheels were sometimes buried to the axles in sand, and the draught bullocks were rather in the way than otherwise.

The body of water over which we ferried, was not above 80 yards wide.

In the rains, when the whole s.p.a.ce of three miles is one rapid flood, 10 or 12 feet deep, charged with yellow sand, this river must present an imposing spectacle. I walked across the dry portion, observing the sand-waves, all ranged in one direction, perpendicular to that of the prevailing wind, accurately representing the undulations of the ocean, as seen from a mast-head or high cliff. As the sand was finer or coa.r.s.er, so did the surface resemble a gentle ripple, or an ocean-swell. The progressive motion of the waves was curious, and caused by the lighter particles being blown over the ridges, and filling up the hollows to leeward. There were a few islets in the sand, a kind of oases of mud and clay, in laminae no thicker than paper, and these were at once denizened by various weeds. Some large spots were green with wheat and barley-crops, both suffering from s.m.u.t.

We encamped close to the western sh.o.r.e, at the village of Dearee (alt. 330 feet); it marks the termination of the Kymore Hills, along whose S.E. bases our course now lay, as we here quitted the grand trunk road for a rarely visited country.

On the 16th we marched south up the river to Tilotho (alt. 395 feet), through a rich and highly cultivated country, covered with indigo, cotton, sugar-cane, safflower, castor-oil, poppy, and various grains.

Dodders (_Cuscuta_) covered even tall trees with a golden web, and the _Capparis ac.u.minata_ was in full flower along the road side. Tilotho, a beautiful village, is situated in a superb grove of Mango, Banyan, Peepul, Tamarind, and _Ba.s.sia._ The Date or toddy-palm and fan-palm are very abundant and tall: each had a pot hung under the crown. The natives climb these trunks with a hoop or cord round the body and both ancles, and a bottle-gourd or other vessel hanging round the neck to receive the juice from the stock-bottle, in this aerial wine-cellar. These palms were so lofty that the climbers, as they paused in their ascent to gaze with wonder at our large retinue, resembled monkeys rather than men. Both trees yield a toddy, but in this district they stated that that from the _Phoenix_ (Date) alone ferments, and is distilled; while in other parts of India, the _Bora.s.sus_ (fan-palm) is chiefly employed. I walked to the hills, over a level cultivated country interspersed with occasional belts of low wood; in which the pensile nests of the weaver-bird were abundant, but generally hanging out of reach, in p.r.i.c.kly _Acacias._

The hills here present a straight precipitous wall of horizontally stratified sandstone, very like the rocks at the Cape of Good Hope, with occasionally a shallow valley, and a slope of debris at the base, densely clothed with dry jungle. The cliffs are about 1000 feet high, and the plants similar to those at the foot of Paras-nath, but stunted: I climbed to the top, the latter part by steps or ledges of sandstone. The summit was clothed with long gra.s.s, trees of _Diospyros_ and _Terminalia,_ and here and there the _Boswellia._ On the precipitous rocks the curious white-barked _Sterculia foetida_ "flung its arms abroad," leafless, and looking as if blasted by lightning.

A hole was sunk here again for the thermometers, and, as usual, with great labour; the temperatures obtained were-- Air.

9 p.m. 64.5 degrees 5.30 a.m. 58.5 degrees 4 feet 6 inches, under good shade of trees 9 p.m. 77 degrees 11 p.m. 76 degrees 5.30 a.m. 76 degrees

This is a very great rise (of 4 degrees) above any of those previously obtained, and certainly indicates a much higher mean temperature of the locality. I can only suppose it due to the radiation of heat from the long range of sandstone cliff, exposed to the south, which overlooks the flat whereon we were encamped, and which, though four or five miles off, forms a very important feature.

The differences of temperature in the shade taken on this and the other side of the river are 2.75 degrees higher on this side.

On the 17th we marched to Akbarpore (alt. 400. feet), a village overhung by the rocky precipice of Rotasghur, a spur of the Kymore, standing abruptly forward.

The range, in proceeding up the Soane valley, gradually approaches the river, and beds of non-fossiliferous limestone are seen protruding below the sandstone and occasionally rising into rounded hills, the paths upon which appear as white as do those through the chalk districts of England. The overlying beds of sandstone are nearly horizontal, or with a dip to the N.W.; the subjacent ones of limestone dip at a greater angle. Pa.s.sing between the river and a detached conical hill of limestone, capped with a flat ma.s.s of sandstone, the spur of Rotas broke suddenly on the view, and very grand it was, quite realising my antic.i.p.ations of the position of these eyrie-like hill-forts of India. To the left of the spur winds the valley of the Soane, with low-wooded hills on its opposite bank, and a higher range, connected with that of Behar, in the distance.

To the right, the hills sweep round, forming an immense and beautifully wooded amphitheatre, about four miles deep, bounded with a continuation of the escarpment. At the foot of the crowned spur is the village of Akbarpore, where we encamped in a Mango tope;* [On the 24th of June, 1848, the Soane rose to an unprecedented height, and laid this grove of Mangos three feet under water.] it occupies some pretty undulating limestone hills, amongst which several streams flow from the amphitheatre to the Soane.

During our two days' stay here, I had the advantage of the society of Mr. C. E. Davis, who was our guide during some rambles in the neighbourhood, and to whose experience, founded on the best habits of observation, I am indebted for much information. At noon we started to ascend to the palace, on the top of the spur. On the way we pa.s.sed a beautiful well, sixty feet deep, and with a fine flight of steps to the bottom. Now neglected and overgrown with flowering weeds and creepers, it afforded me many of the plants I had only previously obtained in a withered state; it was curious to observe there some of the species of the hill-tops, whose seeds doubtless are scattered abundantly over the surrounding plains, and only vegetate where they find a coolness and moisture resembling that of the alt.i.tude they elsewhere affect. A fine fig-tree growing out of the stone-work spread its leafy green branches over the well mouth, which was about twelve feet square; its roots a.s.sumed a singular form, enveloping two sides of the walls with a beautiful net-work, which at _high-water mark_ (rainy season), abruptly divides into thousands of little brushes, dipping into the water which they fringe. It was a pretty cool place to descend to, from a temperature of 80 degrees above, to 74 degrees at the bottom, where the water was 60 degrees; and most refreshing to look, either up the shaft to the green fig shadowing the deep profound, or along the sloping steps through a vista of flowering herbs and climbing plants, to the blue heaven of a burning sky.

The ascent to Rotas is over the dry hills of limestone, covered with a scrubby brushwood, to a crest where are the first rude and ruined defences. The limestone is succeeded by the sandstone cliff cut into steps, which led from ledge to ledge and gap to gap, well guarded with walls and an archway of solid masonry. Through this we pa.s.sed on to the flat summit of the Kymore hills, covered with gra.s.s and forest, intersected by paths in all directions. The ascent is about 1200 feet--a long pull in the blazing sun of February. The turf consists chiefly of spear-gra.s.s and _Andropogon muricatus,_ the kus-kus, which yields a favourite fragrant oil, used as a medicine in India. The trees are of the kinds mentioned before. A pretty octagonal summer-house, with its roof supported by pillars, occupies one of the highest points of the plateau, and commands a superb view of the scenery before described. From this a walk of three miles leads through the woods to the palace. The buildings are very extensive, and though now ruinous, bear evidence of great beauty in the architecture: light galleries, supported by slender columns, long cool arcades, screened squares and terraced walks, are the princ.i.p.al features. The rooms open out upon flat roofs, commanding views of the long endless table-land to the west, and a sheer precipice of 1000 feet on the other side, with the Soane, the amphitheatre of hills, and the village of Akbarpore below.