almost endless flight of fields—which, from their very peculiar construction, have been aptly described as a fitting staircase for the Titans of old—the black partridge, the pheasant, and the hill-chikor. The former-named bird is in great favour, in consequence of making an excellent figure on the table, with the sojourners of the hills; the male is a beautiful creature, with a glossy star-spangled breast; he is to be seen in all the grassy ridges which intersect the fields, and the calls of his fellows may be heard on all sides—a peculiar creaking note. The hill-chikor also abounds, and of this species there are several varieties, larger, but resembling in plumage the red-legged partridges of France; it is also followed by its call, which bears a strong similarity to the low cluck of the hen of the poultry-yard as she leads out her young brood.
Marching along a country like that described in the accompanying plate, has a picturesque, and, not to speak it profanely, somewhat of a melo-dramatic effect. The zig-zag nature of the road, winding along" the steep side of a mountain, affords curious views of the cavalcade: the more active and adventurous may be seen advancing above with unabated vigour, the body of the servants and baggage toiling steadily on below, while still lower the rear guard, weary and straggling, follow "with fainting steps and slow." The sighing of the wind through the trees, the call of a bird, or the murmuring of some far-off stream, alone breaks the solitary stillness, until, while absorbed in the sublime reveries which the scene is so well calculated to produce, we are suddenly startled by the crack of a rifle, fired by the most determined of the sportsmen at some wild animal, presenting itself in too tempting a situation to be resisted.
VIEW NEAR JUBBERAH.
The village of Jubberah lies to the north of the Mussooree and Marma ridges, on the route from the latter towards the source of the Jumna. The hills at this place have the regular Himalaya character, a three-quarter perpendicular slope, to a hollow, from which at once a similar hill strikes up. From the summit of a neighbouring promontory we obtained one of those striking views which so much delight the lovers of the picturesque, but which, though they fill the bosom with strange and thrilling emotions, would be unfitted for canvass. The pure white pyramid of one of the highest of the snowy range, towering in bold relief to the clear heaven, which it seemed to touch, contrasted finely with the dark hills in front, yet with so abrupt a transition, that persons who never beheld so novel an effect, would fancy any attempt to portray it, to be some wild vagary on the part of the artist. Indeed, it has been very justly remarked, that the most common Oriental sky is often thought to be an exaggeration, when its mellowed beauty is represented on paper or canvass at home, and yet no painting can afford a just idea of its peculiar glory.
The skies of England, though not without their charms, and producing occasionally some fine effects, do not afford the slightest notion of this mountain hemisphere, with its extraordinary variety of colours, its green and scarlet evenings, and noon-day skies of mellow purple, edged at the horizon with a hazy straw-colour. It is impossible, in fact, to travel through the Himalaya, without perpetually recurring to the rich and changeful hues of its skies; every day some hitherto unnoticed state of the atmosphere producing some new effect, and calling forth the admiration of the most insensible beholder. This is particularly the case at dawn; for while the lower world is immersed in the deepest shade, the splintered points of the highest range, which first catch the golden
