THE MAHABALESHWUR HILLS AND THE DECCAN.

Journey from Bombay to Malcolm-penth—The Mahabaleshwur Hills—The village and its temples—Elevation of the hills—Formation—Soil—Climate—Vegetation—Sites for chinchona-plantations—Paunchgunny—Waee—Its temples—The babool-tree—Shirwul—The village system—Village officials—Barra balloota—Cultivators—Festivals—Crops and harvests—Poona—The Bhore ghaut—Return to Bombay.

The districts best adapted for the cultivation of chinchona-plants are those in the southern part of the peninsula, at suitable elevations, which receive moisture from both monsoons. The Neilgherry hills are the centre of these hill districts, and as we advance further from that nucleus in a northerly direction the rainfall from the south-west monsoon becomes heavier, while the climate of the winter, when easterly winds are blowing, increases in dryness. In 14° N. lat. the hills of Nuggur sink down into the plains of Dharwar, and from that point to the Mahabaleshwur hills in 18° N. there are few parts of the western ghauts which attain a sufficient elevation for the successful growth of chinchona-plants.[481]

The Mahabaleshwurs, however, are upwards of 4000 feet above the sea, and it was therefore possible that they might present localities suitable for chinchona cultivation. In February 1861 I started from the Mazagon bunder, at Bombay, in a bunder-boat, for the purpose of examining these hills, and, crossing the harbour, coasted for a short distance along the shores of the Concan, and then sailed up the Nagotna river, with low jungle on either side. At Nagotna two sets of hamals were waiting for us, and we started for Mhar, a distance of forty miles across the low country of the Concan. The hamals or palkee-bearers belong to the Mhar or Parwari caste, who are also watchmen, porters, and guides, and are believed to be the aborigines of the country. They are athletic men, with slender and remarkably symmetrical figures when young, always working in gangs of twelve to each palkee, three at each end, and the others relieving them at intervals. They carry the weight with a skill which only a life-long practice could give, and go over the ground at the rate of four miles an hour, at a sort of trot.

The country is generally well covered with rice-fields, now in stubble; and the numerous stacks of rice-straw, raised five or six feet from the ground on stakes, formed the principal feature of the landscape. A few miles beyond Mhar the western ghauts rise abruptly from the plain of the Concan, in two gigantic steps. The first step is ascended by the steep corkscrew road of the Parr ghaut, and between its summit and the foot of the Rartunda ghaut, which winds up the second step, there is a level cultivated plateau. To the left of the road, overlooking the Concan, there is a steep conical hill, crowned by the famous robber fort of Pertaubghur. Here, in 1659, Sevajee, the famous founder of Mahratta power, assassinated Afzul Khan, the general of the Mohammedan King of Beejapore's army, at an interview. We could see the dark walls of the fort, with ruined buildings, and a tall tree rising behind them. The ascent of the second ghaut brought us, almost immediately, into the hill station of Mahabaleshwur. The view from our lodging embraced a foreground of rounded hills covered with green wood, with ranges of pointed, rounded, and flattened peaks in the distance, shimmering in the rays of a hot sun.

The Mahabaleshwur hills are the loftiest part of the western ghauts in the Bombay presidency. They form an undulating table-land of small extent, terminated to the westward by a very abrupt descent, often forming scarped precipices overhanging the Concan; and sloping down more gradually on the side of the Deccan. The highest point, close to the English station, in lat. 17° 59´ N., is only 4700 feet above the sea. The English station, with a native bazar and village, was formed by Sir John Malcolm in 1828, and has received the name of Malcolm-penth. Several of the surrounding peaks are named after his daughters. The roads are excellent, and are bordered by such trees and shrubs as jasmine, figs, Randias, Gnidias, and CrotalariÆ, with a pretty white Clematis climbing over them. The station is near the edge of a range of precipitous mountain crags and cliffs overlooking the Parr valley. The cliffs are broken by several profound ravines, thus forming promontories commanding grand views of the hill fort of Pertaubghur, the Concan, and even the sea on very clear days. Good carriage-roads have been made to those points which command the best views, such as Babington, Bombay, Sidney, and Elphinstone points, all looking west. From Babington point there is a magnificent view. The station, with numerous bungalows peeping out amongst the trees to the north, is seen along the crest of a ridge which is separated from Babington point by a profound ravine. The precipitous cliffs, now dried up and barren, are scarped and furrowed by the water which deluges them during the prevalence of the south-west monsoon; but there was one bright green spot where some potatoes were cultivated in terraces, on the edge of a precipice.

The most conspicuous object in the station is an obelisk of laterite, erected to the memory of Sir Sidney Beckwith. From this point, immediately above the little thatched church, there is a good view of the station, the numerous bungalows, peeping out amongst their shrubberies, dotted about in all directions; the billiard bungalow, sanatarium, and public library, all built of laterite, standing in an open space; the native bazar at our feet; and a curiously shaped mass of mountain peaks to the south and west.

One day we rode over to the native village of Mahabaleshwur, which is three miles from Malcolm-penth. The little village consists of a few dozen thatched huts, on the side of a wooded hill, and some very interesting temples. By the roadside, in the hedges surrounding the huts, there were roses, daturas, and jambul-trees (Eugenia jambolanum) with heads of graceful flowers.

The chief temple, built at the foot of a steep hill, has an open space in front. The exterior wall is faced with pilasters painted yellow, the intermediate space being red. In the centre there is an arched doorway leading into an interior cloister, built round a tank. No European is allowed to enter, but, from the outside, a cow carved in stone is visible on the opposite side of the tank, with a stream of water pouring from its mouth. This fountain is said to be the source of the Krishna, and the temple is considered very sacred in consequence. To the right, and a little in front of the temple, there is a square chapel sacred to Siva or Mahadeo. A flight of steps leads up to three narrow arched doorways, the centre one being occupied by an image of the bull Nandi in stone, in a sitting posture, with its back to the people, and facing the image of the God inside. The chapel is surmounted by a very picturesque dome, with stone tigers at each angle. Tall trees and thick bushes cover the hill in the rear immediately above the larger temple, and on the left there is a long native choultry, with a thatched roof.

These temples were built about a century ago by a rich banker of Sattara, but they stand on the sites of more ancient structures, the work of Gowlee Rajahs. The Gowlees are a race of aboriginal herdsmen, scattered over the western ghauts from Mahabaleshwur to Kolapore. Though they now speak the Mahratta language, yet a great number of their words, their features, and many of their customs are Canarese; and they are evidently a branch of the great Dravidian group of nations.

The temples of Mahabaleshwur possess extensive landed property, some of it on the slopes overhanging the Parr valley. It is in charge of an hereditary Enamdar, who lives in the Deccan, and visits the temples once a year. He keeps them in tolerable repair, and pockets the surplus of their revenues. From the village there is an extensive view of the deep valley of the Krishna and Yena, to the eastward, which slopes down abruptly from the hill on which Mahabaleshwur is built.

As in Coorg there is a curious legend respecting the origin of the Cauvery, so in the Mahabaleshwur hills an equally wild story is attached to the source of the Krishna. It is said that two giants, called Mahaballee and Anteeballee, made war upon the Brahmins, until they were destroyed by Siva. Before they died they asked a favour, which was granted, namely, that they and their followers might be turned into rivers. This is the fabulous origin of five rivers:—the Krishna, named in honour of one of Vishnu's avaturs; the Koina and the Yena, flowing to the Deccan; and the rivers Sawitri and Gawitri, finding their way through gorges to the westward, and becoming tributaries of the Bancoot river in the Concan. The Krishna is looked upon as a personation of the God Krishna in a female form, and is often called baee or lady Krishna. This important stream, issuing from the cow's mouth at Mahabaleshwur, flows down a gorge bounded by steep barren hills, terminating in rocky cliffs. We could see the river, like a silver thread, meandering through some cultivated land far below; but the general aspect of the country was barren and cheerless. During the monsoon it is doubtless quite green.

The Mahabaleshwur hills average an elevation of 4500 feet above the sea. They are composed almost entirely of laterite,[482] overlying eruptive rocks, such as basalt, greenstone, and amygdaloid; and the soil is a clay resulting from the disintegration of the laterite.

On these hills October is the commencement of the dry season, but during that month the amount of aqueous vapour in the atmosphere is still considerable, while the temperature is cool and equable. From November the air becomes gradually drier until the end of February; the weather is dry and cold, and a sharp dry easterly wind usually prevails. The mean temperature of this season is 64°, with a daily variation of about 12°. Fogs and mists commence in March, and gradually increase until the rain begins in the end of May. The hottest month is April. From the end of May to September there is almost incessant rain, and the hills are constantly enveloped in clouds and fog. The mean temperature of the rainy season is 64.5°, but the daily variation is only 3°. The average rainfall is 227 inches, of which nearly one-third comes down in August.[483] (See Table, next page.)

The vegetation of these hills, as might be expected from the essential difference in the climate, is quite distinct from that of the Neilgherries. There is a great want of forest-trees in the jungles, and the trees and bushes are, as a rule, poor and stunted. The hills are covered with grass and ferns, and are dotted over with a shrub called by the natives rumeta. It is the Lasiosiphon speciosus,[484] with flowers something like small Guelder roses, clustered in terminal umbels. The Randia dumetorum, a thorny bush, is also common. In the thickets I observed a Memecylon, called by the natives anjun, a melastomaceous tree, with beautiful purple flowers;[485] a small Crotalaria, with a bright yellow flower; a Jasminum; an Indigofera; the Eugenia Jambolanum; the pretty creeping Clematis Wightiana; some willows near streams; a Solanum; and the Curcuma caulina, a kind of arrowroot, with enormous leaves, sometimes tinged with red,[486] in flower during the rains.[487]

I reluctantly came to the conclusion that the Mahabaleshwur hills were not well suited for the growth of chinchona-plants. The intense dryness of the atmosphere during the greater part of the year, the poor character of the vegetation, and even the enormous rainfall during the summer months, which more resembles the climatic conditions of the forests of Canelos to the eastward, than the region of "red-bark" trees to the westward of Chimborazo, all pointed to this conclusion. Nevertheless some seeds of chinchona-plants were forwarded to Mr. Dalzell, the Conservator of forests in the Bombay Presidency, which are said to have come up well at Mahabaleshwur. If these plants should really thrive it will prove that they are capable of adapting themselves to differences of climate to an extent of which we previously had no idea. I sincerely trust that this may be the case, and that some at least of the species of ChinchonÆ now in India may be successfully introduced into the Mahabaleshwur hills. Mr. Dalzell informs me that there are high hills to the eastward of the Portuguese settlement of Goa, but not so elevated as Mahabaleshwur, where he thinks that some of the ChinchonÆ, which flourish at low elevations, might be acclimatized. He had observed that, in the Bombay Presidency, a difference of 150 to 200 miles southing is equivalent to a certain elevation, that is, that plants confined to the highest ground in lat. 18° are found at a much lower level in lat. 15°; and that members of the family of ChinchonaceÆ increase in the number of genera and species as we travel south from Mahabaleshwur, along the summit of the range, to lat. 15°.

The road down into the Deccan, from Malcolm-penth, leads to the eastward over hills bare of jungle, and sprinkled over with a scanty growth of Lasiosiphons and ferns. After six miles it begins to pass along a ridge or saddle, with the deep valley of the Krishna on one side, and that of the Yena on the other. The hills which bound these valleys are very precipitous, and, at this season, look grey and barren, with ridges of rock cropping out, entirely destitute of all vegetation. The valleys and lower slopes of the hills are covered with fields of grain, now in stubble, but which must look bright and green during the rainy season.

At a distance of ten miles from Malcolm-penth, on a slope overlooking the Krishna valley, there are some small experimental farms, belonging to apothecaries in Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy's hospital at Bombay, at a place called Paunchgunny. An application was made for some chinchona-plants, to be raised at Paunchgunny; no doubt all possible care and attention would have been bestowed upon them; and I, therefore, regret that it should be a locality where they are not at all likely to flourish. Here the road descends the Tai ghaut into the Deccan, and in a couple of hours we reached the bungalow on the banks of the river Krishna, opposite the town of Waee.

The town on the other side of the river, with its numerous temples, was by far the most interesting place, in an architectural point of view, that we had yet seen. Long flights of stone steps lead up from the waters of the sacred Krishna to the paved platform on which the temples are built. Crowds of women and children in blue dresses, and men in white cotton cloths and red turbans, were washing their clothes in the river, or sitting on the steps and gazing into the water, while naked Brahmins employed themselves in scrubbing the copper utensils of the temples. The largest and most imposing temple is that dedicated to Ganesa, or Gunputty as he is called in the Deccan. It is a mass of solid masonry, whence a wide flight of stone steps leads down to the Krishna. The shrine itself is a plain stone building, with a large vestibule in front, consisting of four arched entrances on each side, and three at the end. The ceiling of this porch is very curious. It is formed of square flagstones fitted into each other, and clamped together above, so as to make a flat surface exactly resembling the pavement below. From the porch a square doorway leads into the shrine, which is a small chamber without ornament or decoration, with the colossal figure of Gunputty facing the entrance. The idol, with a huge elephant's head, the trunk of which it holds in one of its four hands, an enormous belly, and cross legs, is hewn out of a solid block of black stone.

The temple of Gunputty is surmounted by a very remarkable spire, consisting of broad concave flutings rising out of a circlet of lotus-leaves, and approaching each other slightly as they ascend, until they finally terminate in another circle of lotus-leaves, out of which a fluted dome rises and crowns the spire. The whole effect is very good, and forms the principal feature in the view of Waee from the right bank of the Krishna.

A little further back there is a small temple dedicated to Siva or Mahadeo, surrounded by a high wall. Within the enclosure, and in front of the shrine, there is a canopy supported on sixteen stone columns, the inner four being under a small dome, and the rest of the roof consisting of a very curious pavement-like ceiling, exactly similar to that in front of Gunputty's temple. Advancing through this vestibule, which is a plain but perfect piece of masonry in very good taste, we came to a large image of Siva's bull, called Nandi, under a mandap or canopy, supported by four pillars. The image, which is in a sitting posture, with its head turned towards the door of the shrine, has numerous ornaments carved about its head and neck, amongst them a necklace of bells. It is hewn out of an immense block of stone. Immediately in front of Nandi is the shrine itself, but the interior was too dark to enable us to discern the god. The lower part of the building is of plain masonry, with two small square windows in fretted stone-work; but the upper part is surmounted by a richly-carved spire and dome, while on the cornice of the roof there are niches containing stone figures. The spire has three tiers of gods round it in niches, and is crowned by a fluted dome, resting on a circlet of lotus-leaves. There is another temple on the platform facing the river, dedicated to Parvati, Siva's wife.

By the time we had completed the examination of these temples, we were surrounded by a great crowd of Brahmins, hamals, girls and boys, who continued to follow us about.

We then went up one of the streets of this most devout little town, and came to a temple dedicated to Vishnu, the enclosure of which is also surrounded by a high wall, with lean-to grain-shops outside. The interior of the enclosure is lined with betel-nut palms, and paved with large flags, on one of which the figure of a tortoise is carved. The temple stands in the centre, with a richly ornamented spire above it. The interior consists of a nave, with aisles on each side, and at the end, opposite the doorway, there is an open grating, within which is the deity. The temple was crowded with nautch-girls, and numbers of people were passing in and out, doing poojah. They first prostrated themselves at the entrance, then before the grating, and finally touched a bell overhead before giving place to other devotees. Nearly opposite Vishnu's temple is another to his wife Lakshmi.

We afterwards walked through the bazar, a busy interesting scene, crowded with people. We saw exposed for sale grains of all kinds in baskets, heaps of red ochre for painting Gods and the sect-marks on the forehead,[488] sweetmeats, cotton cloths, muslins, and chatties of clay and copper. Near the river there are five smaller temples to Siva, each with its Nandi outside the door, and many sacred peepul-trees, surrounded by walls of solid masonry.

At sunset the view of Waee from the opposite side of the river, with the temples reflected in the water, the thickets of trees behind, and the crowds of people in snow-white cotton dresses and red turbans, was enchanting. Waee derives its great sanctity partly from being on the banks of the sacred Krishna, and partly from the tradition that it was the residence of the five Pandus, the favourite mythical heroes of the Hindus, during part of the time of their exile. The people still have many tales respecting their deeds, especially those of Bhima, who was the biggest and strongest of the five. A peak rising above the dried-up barren line of mountains behind the town is called after them Pandughur. The temples of Waee were chiefly built, about a century ago, by the head of a wealthy Mahratta family named Rastia.

From Waee we travelled over dried-up plains, with arid desolate hills in the distance, and reached the village of Shirwul at early dawn. There were a few banyans near the road, and some babool-trees (Acacia Arabica) dotted about over the plain. The babool-tree in the Deccan has the same uses as the carob in Peru. The hard tough wood is extensively used for ploughshares, naves of wheels, and tent-pegs; its necklace-shaped pods are favourite food for sheep and goats, and the bark is used for tanning.[489] It flourishes on dry arid plains, and especially in black cotton-soil, where other trees are rarely met with. The hedges round Shirwul are of prickly pear or milk-bush (Euphorbia tirucalli[490]).

Shirwul is one amongst many of those village communities of the Deccan which have retained their peculiar customs and organization from time immemorial. The Hindu Rajahs have been succeeded by Mohammedan Kings, who in their turn have been followed by Mogul Subadars, Mahratta Peishwas, and English Collectors, but the village communities have continued unchanged through all these revolutions, and thus the great mass of the people still live under institutions which excite veneration from their immense age. The cultivator of the Deccan obeys precisely the same rules and has the same customs as were followed by his ancestor before the period of history commenced; and, as the land-assessment has now been established for thirty years, on remarkably easy terms, his condition may not disadvantageously be compared with that of any other peasantry in the world.

The village-system of the Deccan is so curious in itself, and so interesting from its unknown antiquity, that some account of one of the villages a few miles from Poona, similar in all respects to that of Shirwul, will not be out of place. I have taken it from an article written thirty years ago.[491]

The land belonging to the village comprises 3669 acres, 1955 arable and the rest common pasture, with hedges of milk-bush (Euphorbia tirucalli) enclosing the garden-grounds. The village, which is surrounded by a mud wall with two gates, includes 107 dwelling-houses of sun-dried bricks with terraced roofs, a chowree or town-hall, and three temples. The houses have wosurees or open porticos in front, and the interiors consist of three or four small dark rooms with no windows. The temples are of hewn stone and chunam.

The boundaries and institutions of the village have undergone no alteration from time immemorial, and its offices are hereditary. They consist of that of the Pattel or chief magistrate, his deputy the Chowgulla, the Koolcurny or accountant, and of the Barra Balloota, or twelve subordinate servants.

The Pattel holds his office, which is hereditary and saleable, from Government, under a written obligation specifying his duties, rank, and the ceremonies he is entitled to. He has to collect the Government dues from the cultivators, punish offences, redress wrongs, and settle disputes. In important cases he summons a Punchayet or sort of jury, and when they are of a serious nature he refers them to the Amildar or Collector of revenue.

The Koolcurny or accountant keeps the records and accounts, comprising a general measurement of village-lands, a list of fields, of the inhabitants, and a detailed account of the revenue. He is generally a Brahmin, and has lands or fees allotted to him by Government.

The Barra Balloota offices are hereditary, and the holders, called Ballootadars, are bound to their services to the community for a fixed proportion of the produce of the soil, from each cultivator. They are twelve in number, namely, the Sutar or carpenter, who repairs all wooden instruments; the Lohar or blacksmith, who keeps all iron-work in repair; the Parit or washerman, who washes all the men's clothes; the Nahawi or barber, who shaves and cuts the nails of the villagers, and kneads the muscles and cracks the joints of the Pattel and Koolcurny; the Kumbhar or potter; the Potedar or silversmith; the Goorow or dresser of idols; the Koli or water-carrier; the Mang or ropemaker, who makes ropes of Hibiscus cannabis, and is of very low caste; and the Mhar or Parwarree, an outcast whose dwelling is outside the village—he acts as watchman, carries letters, and gives evidence as to village rights, before Punchayets; the Tsamhar or cobbler, and Gramjosi or astrologer.

Besides the above duties, the Ballootadars have certain perquisites. The carpenter furnishes the stool on which the brides and bridegrooms are bathed in the marriage ceremony; the blacksmith sticks the hook through the flesh of devotees who swing; the barber plays on the pipe and tabor at weddings; and the potter prepares the stewed mutton at harvest-homes. In addition to the Ballootadars there are some other lower officials called Alutadars, consisting of a watchman, gatekeeper, betel-man, gardener, bard, musician, and host of the Ganjams of the Lingayet sect.

The cultivators of the Deccan are lean short men, with black straight hair, kept shorn except on the upper lip, bronze complexions, high cheek-bones, low foreheads, and teeth stained with betel. They are temperate and hard-working, warmly attached to their children, frugal, and not improvident, but deceitful, cunning, and false. Their food consists of grains, pulses, greens, roots, fruits, hot spices, and oil; together with milk and ghee. No liquor is sold in the villages. Their every-day fare is first a cake of bajree,[492] or jowaree,[493] baked on a plate of iron; secondly green pods or fruits cut in pieces, and boiled with pepper, garlic, or turmeric; and thirdly a porridge of coarse-ground jowaree and salt. They have three meals daily. For breakfast they eat a cake with spiced vegetables, and a raw onion; their wives bring them their dinners in the fields at noon, consisting of two cakes and green pods boiled; and porridge and milk form their suppers. The holiday fare is cakes of pulse and sugar, and balls of split gram and spices.[494]

These hard-working people generally wear nothing but a dirty rag between their legs, and another round their heads. On holidays, however, they come out in a white turban, a frock of white cloth coming down to the knees, a cloth round the waist, and a pair of drawers. The furniture of their dwellings generally comprises two wooden pestles and a stone mortar, earthenware and copper utensils, a wooden dish for kneading dough, a flat stone and rolling pin for powdering spices, two iron cups for lamps suspended by a chain, and two couches laced with rope; the total value being about 40 shillings.

The men, as well as the women, are very fond of attending annual pilgrimages at the temples, and several festivals break the monotony of their working days, the chief of which are the Hooli, the Dussera, the Dewallee, and another in honour of the cattle. The Hooli is held at the full moon in April, and lasts five days. The Dussera, to celebrate the destruction of the Demon Mysore by the Goddess Kali, is in October, and the Dewallee twenty days afterwards. The cattle festival is in August, when the oxen are painted and dressed up, fed with sugar, and worshipped by their owners. In the hot dry months the cultivators hunt deer, hares, and wild hogs.

The agricultural implements used in the Deccan are the same as were in use upwards of 3000 years ago. They consist of a plough, which makes a mere scratch, made of babool-wood; a rude cart on two solid wheels; a harrow with wooden teeth; and a drill-plough.[495] The oxen do most of the work; and the sheep are black and white, with long hanging ears. There are two crops, called the Khereef and Rubbee. In the Khereef crop the sowing takes place in June and July, and the harvest in October. Bajree is sown with a drill-plough in rows, mixed with toor and other pulses. It is the chief food of the people. Next comes the other common grain jowaree. Italian millet, raggee, badlee, and the amaranthus are sown in smaller quantities. All land, whether ploughed or not, is subjected to the drag-hoe, first lengthways and then across, loosening the surface and destroying weeds: and crops of millets are alternated with those of pulses. When the harvest begins, a level spot is chosen for a threshing-floor, and made dry and hard. A pole, five feet high, is fixed in the centre, the grains are heaped round the floor, and the women break off the ears and throw them in. Oxen are then tied to each other and to the post, and driven round, to beat out the corn. Winnowing is done by a man standing on a high stool, and pouring out the grain and chaff to the winds. Ceremonies are then performed in honour of the five Pandus, and the grain is stored in large baskets. The pulses which are sown in the Khereef crop are toor raised in jowaree and bajree fields, the pods of which are detached by beating the plant with a log of wood; moong, sown by itself, and when ripe pulled up by the roots; ooreed; mutkee; and lablab.

Plants from which cordage is made, namely the sun (Crotalaria juncea) and ambadee (Hibiscus cannabinus) are also raised. They grow to a height of five or six feet, and are then pulled up, steeped for some days in water, and the bark stripped off.

In the Rubbee, or cold season crop, the sowing takes place in October and November, and the harvests in February. At this time wheat is sown in rich black or loamy soil, well manured; gram (Cicer arietinum) in the best black soil; and flax, generally raised on the edge of wheat-fields, in strips of four rows. The land is only ploughed once in two years, to the depth of a span.

As the Indians of Peru live chiefly on roots, so the natives of the parts of India which I visited find their chief sustenance in numerous kinds of millets and pulses. Rice is certainly their favourite food; but, from the expenses attending the necessary irrigation, it is dearer and not so easily attainable as the other cereals, and the great mass of the people live on dry grains and pulses. All these cereals contain less nourishing matter than wheat, being comparatively poor in nitrogen, but this deficiency is made up by the pulses which are generally eaten with them. It is a most remarkable fact that the natives habitually combine these two different kinds of food, in their dishes, in about the same proportions as science has found to be necessary in order that the mixture may contain the same proportion of carbonous to nitrogenous matter as is found in wheat.[496]

Every one who has travelled much, in different parts of the world, or who has reflected at all on the subject, well knows that there is far more happiness than misery on this earth, that the good outweighs the evil, and that the wars and revolutions of history are but specks on the long periods of tranquillity which remain for ever unrecorded. The village system of the Deccan is a venerable monument, reminding us how little the turmoils and civil wars, invasions, and revolutions, of which history is composed, affect the mass of the people. The endless conspiracies, treasons, massacres, and battles which fill the narrative of Briggs's Ferishta might not have happened in the Deccan at all, for all the change they have effected in the institutions and customs of the bulk of the population. The Ballootadar still holds the same office which was filled by his ancestor centuries ago, performs the same service, and receives the same perquisites. The cultivator uses the same implements, raises the same crops in the same way, and practises the same customs. As it was centuries ago, so it is now; nothing is changed, and these time-honoured institutions continue to be admirably adapted to the simple wants and habits of the people who live under them. These Deccanees now enjoy their land for a very trifling assessment unalterable for thirty years, their means are sufficient to supply themselves and their families with all they require in the way of clothing and furniture, they have a considerable variety in their food, days of relaxation and festivity are not of rare occurrence, their immediate superiors are of their own race and religion, and there is little to remind them of the presence of foreign rulers. On the whole, in their own simple way, they probably enjoy as much happiness as the peasantry of most other countries in the world, while their wants are fewer and their desires more easily attainable.

In the country between Shirwul and Poona the harvest had already been reaped when we crossed it. In one or two places there were avenues of mango-trees by the road-side, but generally the country was bare and treeless. The great city of Poona, once the seat of Mahratta power, still retains the signs of its former splendour. In the narrow crowded streets there are many large houses of two stories, with much richly carved wood about the balconies and doorways, and frescos painted on the walls of Gods and Goddesses, and scenes in the lives of the Pandus or of Krishna. The bazar is generally thronged with Brahmins, Moslems, Lingayets, Bohrahs, Parsees, men, women, and children, while the shops are occupied by silversmiths, workers in copper, brass, and wood; sellers of grains, drugs, oils, and ingredients for curries; of sweetmeats, of cloths, of blue and green bangles for women, and of endless other wares. The temples are numerous, but none of them are remarkable either for size or beauty. The old palace of the Peishwas forms one side of an open space, and is surrounded by a high wall with semicircular bastions. The entrance is by an archway, flanked on either side by solid Norman-looking towers, with a balcony over it, extending from one tower to the other, from which the young Peishwa Mahadeo Rao threw himself in 1795.

In 1773 the Peishwa Narrain Rao was murdered in this gloomy-looking castle by his uncle Ragonath Rao, and many another deed of darkness has been done within its walls.

Leaving the town, we drove past the Hira Bagh or "diamond garden," where there is a large tank with a wooded island in the centre, to the foot of the rocky hill of Parbutty, on the summit of which there is a temple to Siva. The ascent is by a well-cut flight of steps, and the temple,[497] which crowns the hill, is surrounded by a wall of very solid masonry, with a covered gallery having quaintly carved wooden balconies, and an open rampart above. From one of these balconies Bajee Rao, the last of the Peishwas, watched the defeat of his army at Kirkee in 1817; when Poona, and all its territory, became an integral part of British India.

The view from the Parbutty hill is very extensive. At our feet was the Hira Bagh, with its broad sheet of water, and numerous groves of trees; beyond was the great city almost hidden by trees, the roofs of houses showing here and there, but no conspicuous towers or lofty building. Further still we could see the windings of the rivers Mula and Muta, tributaries of the Krishna. To the left was the village of Kirkee, and to the right the churches, numerous bungalows, and other buildings of the English cantonment. At this time of year the whole mass of buildings and gardens forming and mingling with the city and cantonment, is surrounded by brown dried-up plains, and rocky arid-looking mountains, which furnish a sombre frame to the picture.

This magnificent view was exceedingly interesting, because it seemed more than probable that, in a not far distant future, the city of Poona might become the capital of British India—the seat of Government of a vast Empire, united for the first time in history under one firm and beneficent rule, enjoying a universal peace unknown for centuries, and rapidly advancing in material prosperity. Calcutta must be given up as the most distant from England, the least conveniently situated as regards other parts of India, and the most unhealthy place that could be selected for a capital. This point once granted, the old Mahratta capital recommends itself as combining all the advantages in which the pestiferous banks of the Hooghly are deficient. Poona is within a few hours' journey of the port of Bombay by railroad; situated on an elevated table-land, its climate is healthy and suitable both for Europeans and natives; and it is in a central position as regards all the Presidencies of India.

The railroad from Poona to Bombay stopped at Khandalla, on the summit of the Bhore ghaut, where a portion of it is still unfinished. The village of Khandalla is perched on the edge of a deep chasm, mountains rise up into sharp peaks to the right and left, and there is a very extensive view over the Concan plains. Here the passengers had to get out of the train, and go down the ghaut by the excellent road made by Sir John Malcolm, in bullock-gharries or in palkees, on ponies or on foot. The works of the railway were, however, progressing fast; and when finished, the railroad up the Bhore ghaut will be one of the most remarkable works of the kind in the world. The station at Khandalla is 1800 feet, and Kampuli, at the foot of the ghaut, barely 200 feet above the sea. For a distance of 220 miles there are no passes for wheeled vehicles from Bombay to the interior, except the Bhore and Tal ghauts, so precipitous is the volcanic scarp which forms this portion of the western mountains.

The railroad incline down the Bhore ghaut is upwards of fifteen miles long, the rise being 1831 feet, and the average gradient 1 in 48. In this distance there will be 2535 yards of tunnelling, besides an immense amount of cutting and embanking, eight viaducts, and eighteen bridges. The best known work of this kind in Europe is at Semmering, across the Noric Alps; but that of the Bhore ghaut exceeds it in length, in height, and in the steepness of the gradient.

At the foot of the Bhore ghaut is the village of Kampuli, whence the railroad runs across the plains of the Concan, over an arm of the sea, past Tannah, and through the island of Salsette, into the town of Bombay.

I had now personally examined the Neilgherry hills, the Koondahs, the Pulneys, Coorg, and the Mahabaleshwurs; and collected information respecting the hills near Courtallum, the Anamallays, the Shervaroys, Wynaad, the Baba-Bodeens, and Nuggur. After a careful consideration of the conditions which each of these districts offer, and a comparison of their elevations, climate, soil, and the character of their vegetation, with those of the South American chinchona forests; I was fully confirmed in the opinion that the mountains of the Indian peninsula offered a splendid field for the cultivation of this new and most valuable product.

The different species thrive in different localities, and require various modes of treatment, but I am inclined to the belief that one species or another will thrive in all the hills from Cape Comorin to the parallel of 14° N. This view may prove to be too sanguine, and it may be that the droughts at one season, and the excessive rainfall in another, in several of the hill districts, will prove prejudicial to successful cultivation. Under any circumstances, however, there can be no doubt that the climates of the Neilgherries, Anamallays, Pulneys, and probably Coorg, are admirably adapted to the production of quinine in these precious trees. On the other hand, it is possible that, under cultivation, the chinchonÆ may be able to adapt themselves to conditions of climate differing as much from those of their native habitat even as the Mahabaleshwur hills, and that their cultivation is capable of far wider extension than I am now able to expect. It would be a source of gratification if chinchona plantations could be established in any part of the Bombay Presidency; and while Mr. Dalzell, the able Conservator of forests, superintends any experiments which may be made, it will certainly not be from a want of botanical knowledge or intelligent care, if his anticipations of success are not realised.[498]