Nuddea Gaon, Thursday, Jan. 23, 1840.

THAT missing Falmouth packet still hangs on my mind, and I cannot digest its loss after three days, which must be very unwholesome. We are poking along the narrow roads and ravines of Bundelcund, always afraid every night that the carriage will not be available, and finding every morning that the rajah of the day (we live in a course of rajahs) has widened the old road, or cut a new one, and picked the stones off the hills and thrown them into the holes; and so, somehow, we come along. We have our old friend, Mr. F., who marched with us two years ago, in camp with his Jhansi rajah, who has met us and been durbared and visited; and a Captain R. with his rajah in prospect; and Colonel E. still here, because we every now and then step over a mile of Gwalior territory; and Colonel H. also, an old friend, and a sad spectacle of what two more years in India have done. This morning we came in on elephants because the Duttyah rajah met G. We arrived all over dust, but still, as I was telling G., the meeting between Dutty and Dusty was tolerably good. Duttyah’s is rather a pretty story. He was picked up ‘a naked, new-born child’ under a tree at this place by the Governor-General’s agent, who was taking his morning’s ride, and who carried the child to the Palace. The old rajah, who had no children, said it was the gift of God, and that he would adopt him; and an adopted son is, with the natives, as good an heir as any other; but sometimes the English Government objects, as territories without an heir fall to the Company. There were ill-natured people who said that the Resident Agent took a paternal interest in the little brown baby, and knew exactly under which tree he was to look for a forsaken child; but I am sure the boy’s look quite disproves that calumny. He is more hideously fat than any boy of fourteen I ever saw; a regular well-fed Hindu. The Government never gave a formal consent to the adoption, but his territory is particularly well-managed by the old prime minister; and so, upon his consent to pay a certain tribute, he was to be publicly received as rajah, to-day, and he and his subjects all mustered in great force, and the old minister was fussing his heart out, to have his fat boy’s elephant at G.’s right hand, and looking very proud of his maharajah. It is very shocking, and I hope it may never be the case in any other country, but we have seen a great many young, petty sovereigns lately, and it is extraordinary how like they all are to the old prime ministers belonging to their fathers. It is rather pleasant for this boy to look at the tree where he was found without a rag on, and to think he has a very large territory with a clear income of £140,000 a year. W. O. left us last Monday evening; he did not mean to stop an hour on the road, and it is horrid to think that he is still going shaking on, with the bearers saying ‘humph! humph! ha! ha!’ which they do without ceasing.

Friday.

Lord Jocelyn, who has been coming across from Bombay to join us through sundry difficulties, writes now from Gwalior, and says that Captain E. is to pass him on to Soonderah, where he hopes we shall have sent horses, &c., and that he will be in camp on Thursday night. His letter did not come till this morning, so he is probably wringing his hands at Soonderah. It is thirty miles off, but we have sent out camels and such of the horses as are not tired with this morning’s march, but the syces cannot walk more than fifteen miles a day. I have been redeeming from the Tosha Khanna (the collection of native presents made to us) two or three articles as recollections of this journey, but they price them ridiculously high out of regard for the Company. I have bought a little ring which Runjeet gave me, a poor diamond, but the only one within my means, for love of the old man; a little diamond cross that was a private gift of Hindu Rao’s, and if we had not been the most scrupulous of people, need not have been given up, and a pair of silver anklets as mere curiosities, that the little ranee gave me. I should have liked one of the King of Lucknow’s presents, but none came within my reach.

Saturday.

This morning there came a letter written on a scrap of brown, native paper, from Lord Jocelyn to G., saying he thought his letter to W. O. had perhaps not been opened, that he was at Soonderah after wandering five hours in the jungles, that he had lost his servant, ‘and I hope your Lordship will have the kindness to send somebody out to look after me, as I cannot make anybody understand a word I say.’

He came in in the afternoon, and nearly killed Colonel E. and Mr. L. and some of the old Indians who were dining with us by his account of his troubles. ‘They would not give me anything to eat, so I held up a rupee and said “Dood” (milk), and they brought me quantities, but nothing to eat at all, and as I only had six rupees and did not know whether I should not have to pass the rest of my life at Soonderah, I said, “chota pice” (by which he meant small change, but it is as if we were to ask for little farthings); they did not attend, so then I stalked into a kind of guard-house where there were some sepoys, and as they paid no attention to me, I knocked my stick on the table to excite them, and made signs of writing and said “Lord Sahib.” They evidently thought I had no business to write to the Lord Sahib, but at last brought me a stick and a piece of brown paper and I wrote and said “DÂk,” and they brought me a man with letter bags, and I said “Lord Sahib hi” (is the Lord Sahib here)? upon which they all burst out laughing and every time I said it, they all laughed more. Then I said, very majestically “Jow, Jow, Jow,” (which means “go.”) Then I shut my eyes and pretended to go to sleep, and they showed me a shed and I fetched my saddle for a pillow, and went to sleep; but the rats ran over me, so finding my horse was rested, I got on him and rode east, which I knew was your direction and just as the horse refused to move another step met the camels.’

I really think he managed very well considering that the Mahrattas are not in general very civil.

Oorei, Sunday.

We met the little Jhetour rajah this morning: such a pretty boy of twelve years old, and Mr. F. the agent has him constantly with him and teaches him to think for himself, and to be active and has got him to live less in the zenana than most young natives, and he seems lively and intelligent. We halt here a day, that G. may review the new local corps that has been raised in this boy’s territories; they were drawn up in our street this morning, and are fine-looking people. Lord Jocelyn has filled up the day with shooting; there are quantities of deer about, and he had the good luck to kill one.

Tuesday.

We halted at Oorei yesterday, that G. might review those troops, who made a wonderful display, considering that eight months ago they were all common peasants; but natives are wonderfully quick under sharp Europeans, and Captain B., who has been fighting in Spain and is very active, has just hit their fancy. He goes about in a sort of blue and gold fancy dress, and puts himself into a constant series of attitudes.

The weather is so dreadfully hot, much worse than a January in Calcutta, but they say it is always so in Bundelcund. G. and I are quite beat out of riding any part of the march, even before seven o’clock, but F. still rides.

She and G. have gone on arguing to the end about the tents. He says, he should like before he gets into his palanquin, to make a great pyramid of tent pins, and put the flagstaff in the centre, with the tents neatly packed all round, and then set fire to the whole. He thinks it would be an act of humanity, as it would be at least a year before they could be replaced, so that nobody, during that time, could undergo all the discomfort and bore he has undergone. She declares it is the only life she likes, never to be two days in the same place; just as if we ever were in ‘a place.’