June 10 [18]49 Recd Aug[ust]. 24 [1849]*1
My dear Bessy*2 It has been raining all day & not going to clear up at all. l am quite tired of sitting working in my Tent and have just made you a drawing which I enclose of Kinchin*3 at his favourite sport of catching a Lepcha by the pig tail & holding on till he screams & calls for help. Also I enclose you a prospectus which this minute caught my eye in an old newspaper which wrapped round some bread from Darjeeling. Kinchin is growing up a brave boy but very unruly at times & when very hungry he steals -- It was only yesterday he ate a great hole in the plum- cake the children sent me, which was carelessly put in the corner of the Tent. He is fed once a day, & generally gets besides some of my breakfast & dinner though sometimes greedy enough to complain at these times of not having enough. This morning he had two whole egg-shells all to himself & do you know he complained of the pieces getting between his teeth. I told him

he ought to be very glad of having any thing to put between his teeth & that he should not eat so fast. I have just had a glorious dinner from Dayiling[sic], a case of preserved meat & carrots -- Rice & some wild vegetables called "Cholchimbi" by these highlanders, a Disporium I think tell Papa very good -- I have also a bottle of sherry & the plum cake which I shall begin presently, for I am awfully hungry up here. My Tent is very small about as large as that I have at home, made of blanket over which I throw a tarpaulin. One man carries it, one my bed & one my cooking & the victuals too when I go into places bad to get at. The quantity of midges here is terrible, & the smoky fire I have to keep up get into my eyes so you must excuse my writing while all about me are willows & Pines the P. webbiana which Papa will show you in the garden it is an immense tree. There is nothing to shoot. I am sorry to say or I could

get a better dinner sometimes. At the villages I got fowls & eggs & tell Mamma I do know the difference between a fowl & chicken -- of the latter I eat bone & all, of the fowl I cannot. My Serv[an]t is an infamously bad one, & I consequently miss Mr Clamanze or "Clamanz Sahib" as these people used to call him. They have all sorts of names for him often "Chota Sahib" or little (small) master in contradiction to myself who am "the Sahib" & Campbell the "burra Sahib" or "great Sahib." This man is a perfect fool but very willing & honest & does not drink. On leaving Choingtam[?] I told him to take 7 days food for me -- & what do you suppose he took? one small tongue -- which was all I had for three days of meat. He tumbled down & sprained his wrist, but happily did not break one of my Barometers which he carried; there being too many leeches about; I had an opportunity of giving him a lecture on the wisdom of providence in providing these animals in precipitous places, & spraining his wrist to call his attention to the fact. He asked if he had broken his arm would the leeches do good, so I told

him not to ask foolish questions & said If he had broken the Barometer I'd have broken his head. I am very sorry to hear of Josephine children's[?] state as I am sure you will be -- it is most distressing for her poor father -- do you ever see Mr Guhay of the British Museum? if you do, ask him about Mr Hodgson. I rather hope he will go home this autumn. Darjiling does not agree with him & I am so anxious you should all know him, he is so extremely gentlemanly in mind & person. He is said to quarrell[sic] with every one & in truth he is as proud a man as I ever met, but we have always got on comfortably, & as we live like brothers our quarrelling would be allowed, we have a tiff now & then but very rarely. Campbell is quite a different man, much more lively & always happy, whilst poor H. has dreadful fits of depression. C. is quite a gentleman too & you would never guess that he was a W[est] Highlander, & not far off "dear Macs" runic birth place. Campbell has some hopes of being appointed minister at Nepal which is one of the finest appointments in India, & if he is

nothing will content him, but that we all go together. I should like extremely to see Cathmandu [Katmandu] which is the most interesting town in India, & all amongst the Himalaya -- ask D[octo]r Wallich*4 about it. Lord D[alhousie]*5 has just written me a private invitation to come to Simlah [Shimla] as has Lady D. too, but it is an awful way off & there is nothing for me to do there, nor do I think it right to Frances or my English friends to go any where for mere pleasure, & here or elsewhere in the unexplored Himal[aya], I am getting through an immense deal of work. I do not think any single individual will have explored so much of the unknown Himal[aya] as I shall have; certainly no one with results to be compared with mine, for I am heart and soul at work, but don't go & say this. Write & tell me ab[ou]t all to Maria & her children, what her prospects are & what "dear Ma" is about -- there are not many "free kirks" in India. I miss nothing so much as fruit & music & quite long to hear you & Mamma again. I am growing to[o] old & grave to whistle as I used -- How does the fruit in our garden get on & has Papa made any alterations in the grounds. Are any of my rabbits alive?

I always forget to thank you for all your & Mamma's kindness to Frances*6, who writes very happily from Kew. I often wonder where you are & what doing -- I have not heard from Gifford Palgrave for a long while. I quite forgot his address so that I had to send the letter to the Town-mayor[?] at Bombay one station presidency here is more your[?] as half of the others than England is of Australia. I am still ignorant if Willy were at Gugerat or Mooltar, though I think Mamma would have mentioned it had he been at either. Frank is I suppose a made man, his a most fortunate & I am sure deservedly so. Mamma's letters are full of news, I presume she does not go out much, & without a carriage I much doubt she will[?] liked[?] to much visiting. I am terribly lazy except where the will or inclination calls me. How is Miss Phillips & does Mr P. come to Kew[?] Has Lady Farthing come to Kew? & what of the Gardens. Papa tells me the Palm house is a wonder & he inflames me with an account of a Vista to the Pagoda! As long as from here to Lhasa & most beautifully planted. I suppose he will come with the new batch of

Batch[sic] of[sic] its accounts[?], all people talk of Kew, even in India, & the Illustrated London News gives sundry Arabian (of the Smoke) nights & other fabulous looking cuts of the conservatory & new grounds. I suppose you were too unwell to see the Colviles -- Sir J.C. is a remarkably intelligent & gentlemanly man, his sister Charlotte lives with him & is very plain but a most frank pleasing girl; if Lord D. is not in Calcutta I think when I go down I shall stay with them; they talk of going to Ceylon in August & Hodgson of joining the party. Had poor Gardner been alive & my work been done I should have too, but I must collect seeds for Papa in these parts[?] next October; & after that think of what's to be done. I have just been writing a long screed to Papa, the upshot of which is that I think quite as much of myself as is modest & that my views are much the same as when I left Kew. I have been very fortunate in some respects but do not think many people have worked so much as I have & got so little yet that is owing to my working in a poor service

& confining my letters to what suits my inclinations: it is the way to get on in the branch you pursue but seldom to pick up a lively-hood. I must now break off & write up my Journal. Your most aff[ectionate] brother, Jos.D. Hooker. Best love to Frances when you write to her. I hope she is comfortably off.