the Himalayas bearing a distinctive character;
but I say it was the English holly—the
same sort of holly that I saw last Christmas
in almost every house in London and in the
country.

Here, at Kanah Tall, we shot no less than
seven elks. These deer are very plentiful
hereabouts, and do a great deal of damage
to the crops of the poor villagers at harvest
time. Ghooral and kakur also abound here.
We were so tired on the evening that we
stopped at Kanah Tall, that we could not sit
up to play at whist! We actually fell asleep
over our second rubber, and by general
consent threw our cards upon the table, and
sought our beds.

The next day, at three P.M., we arrived at
a place called Jullinghee, ten miles distant
from Kanah Tall. Jullinghee is a large
village situated on the right bank of the
Bhagaruttee, a stream that flows direct from
Gungootrie, and is, in consequence, one of the
most sacred streams that compose the mighty
and holy Ganges. We were encamped
beneath a clump of apricot and walnut trees,
but it was frightfully hot; for we were now
not more than a couple of thousand feet above
the level of the sea. The woods, however,
were exceedingly beautiful and diversified.
Not only were there apricot, walnut,
rhododendrons, oaks, hollies, and other trees of the
higher altitudes, but also the tamarind, the
fig-peepul, the pomegranate, and others of the
plains. At this village we procured some
honey, which is taken from its makers in a very
singular manner. The bees build in cavities
in the walls of the houses, which are closed
within by a moveable board, and are only
entered by the bees, by a small aperture from
without. When the owners of the houses
want honey, they darken the interior of
the house, and removing the board which
forms the back part of the hive, extract as
much as they require. The bees during this
process, fly out into the light to discover
their enemies, who then close the back part
of the hive, and remain safely within doors
until the wrath of the bees has subsided.

In the evening we took a walk in the
village of Jullinghee, which appeared to be
rich and populous, but very dirty. Our
arrival had caused a great stir, and there
was a large concourse of people, near our
tents, to look at us. A short distance
from the village were the ruins of several
houses which once formed a separate
hamlet, but which had been deserted for fear of
a ghost which was said to haunt it. The
same effect of superstition is by no means
uncommon in the plains of India. There is
a very curious instance in the Meerut district
A village had long been deserted, under the
idea that it was haunted by a fakir. The
settlement officer, however, with much difficulty
prevailed upon a neighbouring Zemindar
to farm the land at something like a
nominal revenue. Shortly afterwards the
zemindar presented himself to the settlement
officer, and represented that he had been
very ill, and that the visitation was ascribed
by his friends and by himself, to his impiety
in interfering with haunted lands. The
settlement officer, however, talked to him
and insisted on his keeping his engagements;
and once more did he venture to brave the
ghost. So complete was his success that the
village shortly became one of the most
flourishing in the district, and the very
relatives who had been foremost in reproaching
the zemindar for his impiety, brought a suit
against him in one of the local courts, to
recover share of his large profits!

On the day following we marched to a
place called Teree, a large straggling village,
situated on a plain of some extent, at the
junction of the Billung and Bhagaruttee rivers.
A regular hot wind was blowing here, and
our tents were unbearable; so we threw
ourselves beneath the shade of a huge tree
which grew on the banks of the Billung, and
which served also as a shelter for a party
from Srinugger, who were celebrating the
marriage festival of a Bunneah (corn-merchant)
of some twenty-two years of age, with
a young lady of eight. The little damsel
was on the ground, and did ample justice to
the marriage-dinner, which consisted of rice,
butter, sweetmeats, and a goat roasted whole
—a goat which had been decapitated by one
blow, and cooked without any sort of
preparation beyond the removal of the entrails;
it was not even skinned. Portions of this
feast were distributed, on plantain leaves, to
each guest, by the Brahmins, who officiated as
cooks and waiters.

Teree is the residence of a Rajah, named
Soodersain Saha, whose family, before the
Goorkha invasion, ruled over the provinces
of Gurhwall and Sirmoor, and, indeed, over
the whole hill country, as far as Simlah, and
from the snowy range to the plains.
Expelled by the Goorkhas, he sought refuge
with the British: and, after defeating the
Goorkhas, was replaced by us in the greater
part of his territories; a part of them we
retained as the price of our assistance,
namely, a portion of Gurhwal, the whole of
Dehra Dhoon, and a part of the Terai! And
we hold Landom and Mussoorie from him at
a nominal annual rent! The Rajah is
extremely civil to Europeans; and the moment
he heard of our arrival he sent a deputation
to wait upon us. The deputation brought
with them a variety of presents, consisting of
milk, sweetmeats, dried flour, dried fruits,
and a couple of goats. The deputation gave
us to understand that it would afford the
Rajah very great pleasure to make our
personal acquaintance; and we were just on the
point of starting for his Highness's abode, when
his arrival was unexpectedly announced to us.
At Srinugger, in a portion of the country
we took from him, is situated the old family
palace, a handsome and substantial building.