Although so near the foot of
the Himalayas, the weather was so oppressive here that exploring
was out of the question; and at six P.M., changing our carriage for
palankeens, or dolies, we commenced a tedious and dusty journey to
the village of "Kalka," the veritable "foot of the hills," where we
were met by a string of deputies from the different "DRY-LODGINGS" in
the neighbourhood, soliciting custom. The first house we came to was
guarded by an unmistakeable English hotel-keeper, of some eighteen
stone; and so terrible was the appearance she presented, with her
arms akimbo, rejoicing in her mountain air, that in our down-country
and dilapidated condition, we felt quite unequal to the exertion of
stepping into HER little parlour; and passing her establishment --
something in the small bathingplace-style of architecture -- we went
on to the next, very much of the same order, and called the "Brahminee
Bull." Here, to my dismay however, standing in the selfsame position,
weighing the same number of stone, and equally confident in the
purity of her air as her neighbour, stood another female "Briton,"
with the come-into-my-parlour expression of countenance, regarding us
as prey.
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