A Journey to Katmandu (the Capital of Napaul), with the Camp of Jung Bahadoor: Including a Sketch of the Nepaulese Ambassador at HomeOliphant, Laurence
History
A Journey to Katmandu (the Capital of Napaul), with the Camp of Jung Bahadoor: Including a Sketch of the Nepaulese Ambassador at Home
Oliphant, Laurence
Nepal -- Description and travel
Filling my plate with rice, which had been well and carefully greased to
improve its flavour, and scientifically mixing the various other
ingredients therewith, I unhesitatingly launched a spoonful into my
mouth, when I was severely punished for my temerity, and almost overcome
by the detestable compound of tastes and smells that at once assailed
both nose and palate: it was a pungent, sour, bitter, and particularly
greasy mouthful; but what chiefly astonished me, so much as to prevent my
swallowing it for some time, was the perfume of Colonel Dhere Shum Shere,
the fat brother, which I was immediately sensible of, as overpowering
everything else. Not that I would for a moment wish to insinuate that it
was a nasty smell; on the contrary, it would have been delicious on a
pocket-handkerchief; but to imagine it going down one's throat, in
company with an immense amount of grease and gravy, was nearly enough to
prevent its doing so at all.
Our march to Ghazipore was through country richly cultivated and
pleasing, if not absolutely pretty. The numerous poppy-plantations were
evidence of our proximity to the headquarters of one of the largest opium
agencies in India. Ghazipore is approached by an avenue of handsome
trees, more ornamental than useful, seeing how utterly destructive it is
to the permanent welfare of a road.
The mausoleum, containing a monument to Lord Cornwallis, is solid but not
ungraceful: upon one side of the monument are sculptured the figures of a
Hindoo and a Mussulman, and on the other a British and a native
grenadier, all of whom are weeping. The building is prettily situated
near the bank of the Ganges, on a large plain or maidan, across which
pleasant avenues lead in all directions; the one which we followed
brought us to the stables of the Company's stud, containing 700 horses.
On our way we remarked a number of handsome houses now unoccupied and
falling rapidly into decay, the military force at the station having of
late been much reduced. The horses were being exercised, notwithstanding
which they carried a good deal of superfluous fat, and vented their
spirits by occasionally breaking loose, and dashing pell-mell through
rings of their companions, who, grudging them the sweets of liberty, made
vigorous efforts to partake of them, and in some instances succeeded. I
saw not less than eight at once dashing about in the large training
enclosure. My friend having already bought three, we thought it best to
withdraw ourselves from further temptation, and set out to join the camp
at Cossimabad, 16 miles distant, still passing through richly cultivated
country, which was as pretty as a dead level ever can be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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