The Bulrampore Rajah, a lively, sensible, and active young man,
joined me this morning, and rode along by the side of my elephant,
with the capitalist, Ramdut Pandee, the Nazim, Mahommed Hussan, and
old Bukhtawar Sing, the brother of the late Dursun Sing, whom I have
often mentioned in this Diary. Rajah Bukhtawar Sing is the King's
Mohtamin, or Quartermaster-General of the Resident's' camp. The Rajah
of Toolseepore also, who has been ousted by his son from his estate,
joined me last night; but he was not well enough to ride with me.
Dogs, hawks, and panthers attend for sport, but they afford little or
no amusement. Hawking is a very dull and very cruel sport. A person
must become insensible to the sufferings of the most beautiful and
most inoffensive of the brute creation before he can feel any
enjoyment in it. The cruelty lies chiefly in the mode of feeding the
hawks. I have ordered all these hunting animals to return to Lucknow.
Although the personal character of the Toolseepoor Rajah is not
respected, that of his son is much worse; and the Bulrampoor Rajah
and other large landholders in the neighbourhood would unite and
restore him to the possession of his estate, but the Nazim is held
responsible for their not moving in the matter, in order that the
influential persons about the Court may have the plucking of it at
their leisure. The better to insure this, two companies of one of the
King's regiments have been lately sent out with two guns, to see that
the son is not molested in the possession.
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