DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.15173#0054
36
GARDEN AT KOTE.
CHAP. II.
and to be yet burdened with the useless parapher-
nalia of civilisation ? It is, nevertheless, a curious
feeling to be sitting cross-legged, and to pen a
journal on one's knees. Custom soon habituated
us to these changes ; and we did not do the less
justice to our meals because we discarded wine and
spirits in every shape, and ate with our fingers from
copper dishes without knives and forks.
Half-way across to the Chenab, we halted in a
garden at Kote, the residence of one of Runjeet
Sing's colonels, and an agreeable place. It was
not 100 yards square, but well stored with fruit-
trees and flowers : most of the former were now
in blossom, and an enumeration of them would
give a favourable idea of this climate. They con-
sisted of the peach, apricot, greengage, fig, pome-
granate, quince, orange sweet and bitter, lime,
lemon, guava, grape, mango, jamboo, bair, date,
cardamom, almond, and the apple ; with seven or
eight other kinds, of which I can only give the
native names — the gooler, sohaujna, goolcheen,
umltass, bell, bassoora. The walks of the garden
. were lined with beautiful cypresses and weeping
willows ; and in the flower-beds were the narcissus,
and rose-bushes of the " sidburg," or an hundred
leaves. Most of the trees and flowers are indige-
nous ; but many had been introduced from Cash-
meer, and a native of that valley was the gardener.
The proprietor of this pleasant spot was absent:
his villa was in disorder, and neglected, since he is
suffering from the avarice of his ruler. His son, a
sharp boy of nine years old, paid us a visit, and re-
GARDEN AT KOTE.
CHAP. II.
and to be yet burdened with the useless parapher-
nalia of civilisation ? It is, nevertheless, a curious
feeling to be sitting cross-legged, and to pen a
journal on one's knees. Custom soon habituated
us to these changes ; and we did not do the less
justice to our meals because we discarded wine and
spirits in every shape, and ate with our fingers from
copper dishes without knives and forks.
Half-way across to the Chenab, we halted in a
garden at Kote, the residence of one of Runjeet
Sing's colonels, and an agreeable place. It was
not 100 yards square, but well stored with fruit-
trees and flowers : most of the former were now
in blossom, and an enumeration of them would
give a favourable idea of this climate. They con-
sisted of the peach, apricot, greengage, fig, pome-
granate, quince, orange sweet and bitter, lime,
lemon, guava, grape, mango, jamboo, bair, date,
cardamom, almond, and the apple ; with seven or
eight other kinds, of which I can only give the
native names — the gooler, sohaujna, goolcheen,
umltass, bell, bassoora. The walks of the garden
. were lined with beautiful cypresses and weeping
willows ; and in the flower-beds were the narcissus,
and rose-bushes of the " sidburg," or an hundred
leaves. Most of the trees and flowers are indige-
nous ; but many had been introduced from Cash-
meer, and a native of that valley was the gardener.
The proprietor of this pleasant spot was absent:
his villa was in disorder, and neglected, since he is
suffering from the avarice of his ruler. His son, a
sharp boy of nine years old, paid us a visit, and re-