the Arabs, who never tire of hearing those of the
celebrated “ Arabian Nights ”
Ten to twelve miles from Jubbulpore there are two
conical hills of white marble, about 120 feet high,
which, for several centuries past, have furnished
building material for many palaces and tombs in
the Punjab and elsewhere. These hills are separated
by a gorge of two miles in length, into which a waterfall
descends, and are seen to great advantage from
the opposite side of the broad sheet or lake formed
by the Nerbudda, since the reflection on the water
materially heightens the general effect of this pretty
bit of scenery. The journey, although fatiguing, is
well worth the exertion.
Agriculture flourishes in the Jubbulpore district,
owing to its salubrious climate; the gardens contain
magnificent flowers, and the hedges are gay with
crimson cacti and euphorbia), whilst orchards produce
a great variety of fruit, amongst which the guava,
of a delicate strawberry flavour, is particularly prized.
The labouring class, as in most parts of India, here
carry everything on long bamboo poles balanced across
the shoulder, frequently placing a baby or small child
—very precocious little beings, with black hair and
piercing eyes in a basket at one end, their goods at
the other.
Having left Jubbulpore in the evening by express
train, I got to Allahabad just before sunrise, which
was very brilliant by the time I reached the spot,
about quarter of a mile from the city, where the
Jumna joins the holy river Ganges, and within their
embrace rises the famous Fort, holding a commanding
position. I need hardly add that the old custom of
devotees drowning themselves in the sacred stream at
the great annual festival is no more permitted—in
fact, has ceased to exist since the commencement of
the century, when the district was finally ceded to
the British. The country around is flat and fertile,
covered with the cotton plant as far as the eye can
reach.
Hence to Cawnpore is little more than a hundred
miles, and there being three trains daily at convenient
intervals, one can always manage to escape the hottest
part of the day. The entire distance, by the way,
between Calcutta and Lahore, having now reached
a spot about midway, is 1,367 miles, and that between
Calcutta and Bombay 1,480 miles, or about as far as
London is from Gibraltar.
There hangs so sad a memory over Cawnpore, an
indelible blot, nay curse, upon the authors of the
fearful massacre of 1857, that one does not care to