Transcript
one of the Capt[ain]s wives came back for her husband's hat. I hardly know the people but of course gave her my arm & took her with the hat to her husband, an ill favoured cadaverous looking man, as white as a ghost I told him. His wife had encased[?] his hat, which he clapped on his head (all full of lime & plaster) & tore away down the village town first to Meublecs[?] (who is a dissenter & attends another chapel) announcing the news in most awful exaggerated terms. To the other Capt[ain] I took his prayer book &c. to many of the Ladies, who were huddled together in the same antick[?]. Casinchuter[?] asked me to help him to put out the commission plate (it was Sacrament Sunday) & as I was thinking with admiration in the little man's coolness, the little gown asked me whether he should continue the service, rather a simple question, as the congregation were so much alarmed & there was only the open air & rain to react to. So you see what a great stir a little fright makes. Did I ever tell you of my new acquaintance here? Mrs. O'Shaugnessy (guess her nation) her husband is one of the most scientific men in India, a good chemist & good fellow, holds a high office in the Mint & is Secretary to the Asiatic Society. "Groves of Blarney" are nothing to Mrs O.'s tongue -- I do not like her, but in deference to O.'S. both Hodgson & myself pay all attention to his Lady. She is a
Darjeeling.
Sept[ember] 28, 1848.
My dear Bessey*1
I was very much indeed gratified by your long letter from various places during your trip; only one thing surprized me; you say nothing about poor old Grandpapa's friends at Exeter; nor does my Father -- I suppose they are all dead, or you could not find them but I assure you I hurried on in to the Exeter bit & read it twice in amazement. You certainly had a very fine and profitable cruise[sic], how much I should have liked to be with you: I hope one day we shall have some time together, as we had in Scotland: which though so distant was very delightful. My life here is sufficiently monotonous to hear of, but far from so to me, my collections increasing very fast indeed & never having a moment to spare. The rains prevent my taking long excursions but they are now inclined to be all but over. I have no incidents to amuse you with; I fear, in return for all you tell me, without you can for what is almost[?] news to me -- item Hodgson is again poorly & I have been doctoring him successfully in[?] talk of accompanying me to the Snowy Mountains[?] but I am sure he cannot bear the fatigues
of the trip. item my pony (as Hodgson*2 calls it) was lent to the Judge, who came up here to judge a case of embezzlement: to take him part of the way back to the plains & though Mr Grant keeps a stud of ponies[?] & is otherwise supposed to be a knowing jockey he has loaned[?] the brute to my great annoyance, Hodgson being ill I ride his just now, both are abominable ponys[sic] & I am sure he has strained a back sinew by careless riding down hill. Poor Bames is come back for a month & goes[?] to seem old & careless, very lame from one of his excursions with him 9[?] months ago: his constitution is far from a healthy one. I got Campbell to see him -- C. being the only one of 6 medical men here I trust much, but not liking to interfere with the practice of the others. The Dr. here was already beginning to make a mess of the thing, when C. & I interposed as I have got the credit of taming him & seem very anxious for his recovery, besides he is an exceeding amiable good fellow, very active & a great Tiger shooter -- item he’s had such a stomach 2 or 3 Sundays ago. The x[sic] is held in an immense room with a verandah about 12 yards broad & 20 long; projecting from the roof & supported on huge brick pillars. It is roofed like the
whole building with iron thickly covered with Bamboo thatch: which the rains had loaded with water: the Revd. Ev.[?] Winchester was giving a very boring discussion, & saying that our prayers were not present[?] enough to penetrate the clouds which in this [illeg.] foggy autumn[?] sounded rather odd, when the verandah gave way & fell down with a tremendous crash, the pillars flying all to pieces & the whole affair settled against the windows, darkening the room & filling it with clouds of dust lath & plaster. I was on the side close to it & watched for the walls coming in, which not being the case I stood it out, though not a little startled. The shrieks were loud enough & ladies & gentlemen fled like chickens, blocking the doors & leaving hats prayer books &c behind. When I looked round there was only Mr Winchester out the [illeg.] myself & another person in the room. Two Capt[ain]s of the Bengal army![sic] were among the first to bolt & except Campbell not one came back. Except the dents in the verandah which were crushed & an unfortunate man[?] sitting there who got his turban flattened with a good punch no hurt was done. Poor Mr. Campbell first ran without his little girl & then rushed back for her, but had not to go as Pussy[?] had wisely looked after herself. Luckily I had a cap[?] which I was busy digging for & for the very placid[?] in the rubbish
which
one of the Capt[ain]s wives came back for her husband's hat. I hardly know the people but of course gave her my arm & took her with the hat to her husband, an ill favoured cadaverous looking man, as white as a ghost I told him. His wife had encased[?] his hat, which he clapped on his head (all full of lime & plaster) & tore away down the village town first to Meublecs[?] (who is a dissenter & attends another chapel) announcing the news in most awful exaggerated terms. To the other Capt[ain] I took his prayer book &c. to many of the Ladies, who were huddled together in the same antick[?]. Casinchuter[?] asked me to help him to put out the commission plate (it was Sacrament Sunday) & as I was thinking with admiration in the little man's coolness, the little gown asked me whether he should continue the service, rather a simple question, as the congregation were so much alarmed & there was only the open air & rain to react to. So you see what a great stir a little fright makes. Did I ever tell you of my new acquaintance here? Mrs. O'Shaugnessy (guess her nation) her husband is one of the most scientific men in India, a good chemist & good fellow, holds a high office in the Mint & is Secretary to the Asiatic Society. "Groves of Blarney" are nothing to Mrs O.'s tongue -- I do not like her, but in deference to O.'S. both Hodgson & myself pay all attention to his Lady. She is a
determined gossip & the Darjeeling folks seek to know something of Hudson & myself, through her. I call her[?] a insect & basabog[?] the Lady where such subjects. O.S. has been most attentive & kind to me & though gifted with too soft a tongue (like his wife), I like him: she is here for her health & O.S.. is coming out soon for a month's holiday. Campbell & I have become great friends & I am much pleased with the attention he has paid Bank's leg. Mrs Campbell is a very lady like, frank & pleasing person & great favourite of mine, & indeed the only Lady here I ever see barring the O.S. -- I always dine there whenever I feel inclined & C. is very anxious that I should eat with them, but I am too comfortable here where my time is all my own where I never see a visitor, have all my plants & papers instruments &c around me -- had C. shown me any such attention when I arrived I sh[oul]d have been only too thankful, but how he could have been so thoughtless & blind & deaf to all my wants & wishes I can still hardly understand. Hudson with whom he lived for 25 years however knows his character intimately & attributes it to mental confusion or perturbation of some sort, certainly no one could be kinder than C. has been latterly. He is a Skye man -- no out[?] Skyer but where dear Mac comes from, & his father was factor to Campbell of Isla or some such thing. Mrs C. married very young & has 4 children, the eldest, Ellen, alias "Pupy" is 6, & by the same token I had to give her a birthday present the other day; a very plain, but very clever nicely brought up little girl. The 2d a splendid boy, rejoices in the [illeg.] of Toopoo[?], whence obtained no one knows, not even his mother, his real name is Dicky. Emma the third is my pet & a most beautiful child as I ever saw & though very shy generally with strangers it[sic] took from the first to me & we are great friends. I came in late from an excursion the other day & dined at Campbell's in the evening they went to a Lecture on Astronomy by a school master here. Mr C. exerted all his eloquence to persuade me to go (but you might as well try to get me to walk in the garden that evening; first I disliked the lecturer a- Mr Grissenthwaite[?] an ignorant uppish fellow second, I grudged 8/ the price of a ticket and third I have a perfect antipathy to lectures of all sorts. So after seeing Mr C. Pussy & Toopoo[?] safe then I rode back to Hudgsons - having done my best to persuade "Pussy" to ask the learned professor to show a "rubbish on the wall" as I do. Next day I had particulars from Mrs C. - which were insufficiently amusing. My friend Lieut. Staples who I told you asked to dine with myself and Barnes when we lived at other
old place 3 months ago was there he is a good natured but far from wise man & it being after dinner he was in an ambiguous state. I suppose for first he fell asleep till the lecturing part was over, & there being stiff backs to the forms, was always, bouncing back into some body's lap. Mr G. concluded with a Camera Obscura or magic lantern & showed first the Nebula in Orion. Staples being an historian in hearing this awoke with the "Oh that Ned O'Brian is it, fine fellow Nad. - I know him very well, that very like though kept[?] the pits of the moon were shewn. "How do you know they are pits" said my friend -. "They have been measured" answered the Professor "Quite a fallacy" said Staples " who measured them? - the man in the moon I suppose" -- Then came the "Great Bear", but owing to some flaw in the glass then was a long plume stuck in the bear's neck, when Pussy to poor C's horror, called out "Pray Mr. G, why does the Great Bear carry pen & inkstand on his back" -- Poor Toopoo slept through all & being roughly awake at the end & feeling himself bound to acknowledge the efforts to gratify, did so by saying aloud "How funny" -- Mrs C who is a quiet simple person attributes Staples' eccentricities to his Irish wit, but knows better I think: & poor Pussy & Toopoo were suitably admonished. This my dear Bessy is my 3 months batch of fun: a poor stick you will say but except Hodgson's publications & other anecdotes I have no stories to tell -- I do not[?] find travelling alters[?] my habits in any one way. I got out at 6 but hate it & [first line obscured by tape] Hodgson & I were like brothers exactly [illeg.] he is a good [illeg.] I am. He is the most valuable acquisition I could have made in India, too proud & haughty, but I cannot feel that. Now dear Bessy I have not written such an unbotanical yarn for months, I am sorry it is so egotistical.
Your most affectionate brother | Jos D. Hooker [signature]
Many thanks for all your kindness to Frances*3, I write to her today a long letter. The curious beasts I told you of both died, either of poison or in teething we are very sorry.*4
1. Elizabeth Evans-Lombe (1820 -- 1898) nee Hooker, is JDH's sister referred to as Bessy. There is also “duplicate” written at the top left in what appears to be a different coloured ink/pencil.
2. Brian Houghton Hodgson (1801 -- 1894). A pioneer naturalist and ethnologist working in India and Nepal where he was a British civil servant. Joseph Hooker stayed at Hodgson’s house in Darjeeling periodically during his expedition to India and the Himalayas, 1847--1851, and named one of his sons after him. They remained lifelong friends.
3. Frances Harriet Hooker née Henslow (1825 --1874). Joseph Hooker's first wife. They became engaged in 1847 but only married in 1851.
4. This sentence was written on the right hand margin of the first page.
5. The final page has the address – Mr[?] Hooker, West Park, Kew, Near[?] London
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