Chapter III: Part 3

They rise in the region of perpetual snow, generally from glaciers at a height of over 20,000 feet, and make their way to the plains (receiving numerous affluents on the road), as great torrents with numerous rapids, and quite unnavigable, except in particular places. On emerging into the plains, which they do very suddenly, the bed changes, first from boulders to shingle, and then to sand, and the stream cutting deep into this soft soil, becomes more and more charged with silt, especially as the lessening slope of the country checks the onward velocity. Thenceforward, the river is a sluggish stream, pursuing a tortuous course between low, flat banks, and full of shoals and quicksands, until near its mouth, where it parts into numerous channels, and forms a vast delta reaching to the sea. Owing to the vast quantity of silt brought down by these rivers, which elevates their beds and during the inundation season is freely deposited on both banks for some distance inland, it follows that these streams, in the lower portions of their course, often run on a ridge, and not at the lowest points of their valleys,—just like the Po and Mississippi, which are retained between artificial dykes.

These rivers are at their lowest in the cold season; and in December, January, and February, their navigation is attended with the greatest difficulties. From March to June, the increasing heat of the sun melts the snow in the higher ranges, and the rivers rise rapidly. In June, July, and August, the monsoon rains increase their volume to a prodigious extent. Their banks are often inundated far inland, and the yellow turbid waters carry down more silt than ever; the increased velocity of the current, acting on the light sandy soil of the sides and bed of the channel, cuts away the banks and scours out shoals in one place, and then at the next bend a temporary check will throw down enormous quantities of this silt, and the stream shoots off in a new direction altogether. I have seen the whole of the Indus concentrated in a not very deep channel 1000 feet across; six months later I have been in a boat on the same spot, and was unable to see either bank from mid-stream. In one year I have known it cut its way inland a full mile, measured perpendicular to the thread of the stream.

It is these violent changes in velocity and direction, and the soft and treacherous character of the soil, that make the question of foundations in water a peculiarly difficult one in India. The sudden shifting of a shoal may dam up the archway of a bridge, and the increased velocity in the narrowed waterway acting on such soil, often scours out a hole 30 feet deep in a single night. Almost every rainy season in India sees failures and disasters on this score, and the most carefully considered design may be a mass of ruins in twenty-four hours. The Bengal mode of dealing with these difficulties is to carry down every pier-cylinder, whether of masonry or iron, to such a depth as either to rest in the firm soil below, or to be absolutely beyond the reach of any possible scour, but to put no flooring or curtain walls by which the stream can possibly be checked and incited to tear up the bed. The Madras system is to be content with a much smaller depth of foundation, but to provide, by means of a flooring and apron walls, a compact dam of masonry solidly bound together, front and rear and from shore to shore, which shall be proof against any action of the stream. The subject is one which has excited much discussion, but is too long to enter upon here. You will find it treated of in the works already quoted.

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I have now described the most important specialities of Indian foundations, and have to ask you to follow me in the first section of what I may call special engineering constructions, _viz. Buildings_, or rather dwellings, such as houses, barracks, churches, and the like. The subject is, of course, a very extensive one, and I only propose here to draw attention to those buildings which the Indian engineer is generally called upon to construct. First, then, let us take Indian Barracks, that is, barracks for English soldiers in India, as they are not only the most important buildings that you will have to deal with, but there are many vexed questions concerning them which are still far from settled, and which apply equally to all dwellings erected for Europeans in an Indian climate.

In the earlier days of our Indian empire, the barracks constructed for the European soldiers were often built on ill-chosen sites; the rooms were low and a great deal too crowded, and drainage and conservancy scarcely thought of; the consequence was a frightful mortality, which often reached the high figure of 70 to 90 per thousand. As the important subject of sanitation received more and more attention in England, it was not likely it should be neglected in India, where a tropical climate aggravated the results of neglect of sanitary laws, and where every English soldier who died cost the Government a large sum of money to replace him.

At the same time that attention was thus roused, the conquest of the Punjab and the necessity of quartering a large number of troops in that province to defend the most exposed frontier of the empire, made the subject doubly important, while it gave a field on which to carry out the results of recent investigations. Large sums of money were accordingly spent on the barracks at Mean Meer, Sealkote, Nowshera, and other new stations. They were all single-storied buildings—each company of 100 men having a barrack to itself, consisting of six wards, each 48 by 24 feet, and 24 feet high, with double verandahs on both sides, besides rooms for the non-commissioned officers. The men were to sleep in the wards, and to dine in the inner verandahs. A reading-room was also supplied at the end of each barrack. Wash-houses and privies were arranged in separate buildings near the barracks.

These buildings were certainly a great improvement on anything hitherto erected, and were decidedly not open to the charge of being overcrowded. Unfortunately, however, the Punjab has a cold season as well as a hot, and in the winter months the men complained that it was almost impossible to keep themselves warm; while even in hot weather, the high winds and dust found their way through the numerous doors and windows, and the barracks were anything but comfortable residences.

Nor did they prove at all healthy, for cholera and intermittent fever played sad havoc among the troops in more than one season at Mean Meer. This was not, however, owing to any fault in the barracks, but to what was an error in the choice of site for the cantonment; and attention is drawn to it because the instance is instructive, and has more than once been repeated. Apparently under the idea that there was something in the very presence of vegetation which might engender malaria, a flat, bare, dreary-looking site was selected, totally devoid of all vegetation, and with water 40 to 50 feet below the surface; while, from the presence of a kunkur or stony stratum a few feet below the top, it has been found impossible to get a tree to grow to a respectable size. It may be taken as a rule that the presence of healthy vegetation shows a site favourable to human beings as well as to trees and crops, and that such sites as that of Mean Meer should be carefully avoided in future.

Several committees were subsequently appointed to consider the question of barracks, and finally an officer of experience, under the title of Inspector-General of Military Buildings, was appointed to collate the various information collected, and to prepare standard plans of barracks for the various stations at which the Government of India had determined, on strategic grounds, to maintain a permanent force of British soldiers. It should be remarked in reference to this point that erroneous impressions often prevail in the public mind. It is often asked, why are troops retained at stations which are notoriously unhealthy? Why are the British troops not all kept at the hill stations, where they enjoy a European climate all the year round? Now, the first use of having troops at all is unquestionably that they should be ready for action at the points where trouble is likely to arise; those points are the great cities where, in the East as in the West, the _mauvais sujets_ of the empire are generally found congregated; and all our principal cantonments have been located with this view. It is true that the railways have done much to abridge distance in India, as elsewhere. But not to mention how easily a railroad is disarranged in time of war or revolt, the railway system must be extended at least five-fold before it could help us much on this point, while to allow revolt to rage unchecked, for even twenty-four hours, in such cities as Patna, Benares, or Lucknow, until troops could be brought by rail from the nearest hill station, would be a frantic proceeding.

But the fact is that it is very questionable whether a continued residence in the hills would be beneficial to the health of all English soldiers, while there is no doubt that the hill stations are not at all popular with the men themselves. Private Tommy Atkins is insensible to the poetry of mountain scenery; he dislikes the incessant rain from June to September; he hates being unable to take a walk without having to go up or down hill; and he misses the excitement of a large native city. There is no doubt, however, that, as _occasional_ residences, the hill stations are most valuable, and the Government has shown its appreciation of this fact by the large expenditure now being incurred on the two new Himalayan stations of Chakrata and Raneekhet.

You will find plans of the most approved forms of barracks, as at present sanctioned, in Vol. II. of the Roorkee Civil Engineering Treatise. These buildings consist of a single main ward, with one verandah all round, and are to be double-storied as a rule; the upper story being used as a dormitory, the lower for day-rooms. Separate rooms are provided for the sergeants, and separate sets of quarters, of course, for the married men. In the plains, space is to be provided at the rate of 7½ running ft. (of wall), 90 superficial ft., and 1800 cubic ft., per man, the wards being 24 ft. high. These buildings are constructed of brick or stone, as the case may be; the roofs are iron girders with brick arches between for the verandahs, and iron trusses covered with a double layer of tiles for the main wards.

Several ranges of barracks on the Government standard plans have been erected at Allahabad, Saugor, Jullundur, Peshawur, and other stations; but it cannot be said that the results have been at all commensurate with the large cost incurred. The heat and glare are greatly complained of, and in more than one instance it is believed that a return to the old temporary thatched barracks was urged. Nor have the new barracks apparently proved more healthy than the old ones; cholera stuck so closely to them at Allahabad that for some months they were absolutely deserted, and it is understood that Peshawur is no better off. Of course, it is not meant to suggest that the new barracks engendered cholera, but merely that a site unhealthy in itself has not been made less so by the erection of large and expensive buildings.

In the station where I have been quartered for eight years, the barracks were little more than temporary sheds run up just after the Mutiny, and which have not been replaced by regular buildings because it is not thought necessary to retain troops there permanently. Yet in these crowded sheds, troops have been healthier than in any station in the country.

To understand the special difficulties attending the construction of Anglo-Indian dwellings, it is necessary to revert again to the characteristics of the climate of Northern India, in which by far the largest number of our troops are quartered. The seasons of Northern India (say from Benares up to Peshawur) are the cold, the hot, and the rainy season; or, more exactly, the cold, the dry-hot, and the moist-hot seasons. In November, December, January, and February, though the sun is always powerful, the temperature of the air is pleasant during the day, and not too hot for a long day’s cricketing or shooting on foot; the nights are really cold, and occasionally even frosty. A good deal of rain also falls in the Punjab generally about February, and fires are required in the house often all day long.

In March, the hot winds begin to blow; strong breezes from the west, often rising to gales, bring up clouds of dust, and the atmosphere has the temperature of a glass furnace; from 7 A.M. the wind blows often up to midnight, and the temperature of the outer air at night varies little from that of the day. I have often known it 100° at Lahore at _midnight_. This lasts till the middle of June, when thunderstorms usher in the south-west monsoon, or rainy season; rain falls in torrents, the air is saturated with moisture, and though the thermometer falls several degrees, the languid, moist heat is far more trying to the constitution than a higher temperature when the air is dry. The rains end in September; October is generally fine, the mornings and evenings are cool, and then follows the cold season already described.

Now to apply these facts to our subject.

As a mere question of comfort, it has been found that a building constructed with walls of mud or sun-dried brick, with a good verandah all round, and with a thick roof of thatch, is certainly the most comfortable. It is cooler in the summer, warmer in the winter, and a good thatched roof is perfectly water-tight. But such a roof is always exposed to danger from fire, and both roof and walls require perpetual repair in the rains; while those Indian pests, the white ants, besides snakes and other vermin, increase and multiply to an alarming extent in such a building. Stone is scarce and expensive, except in a few localities, so brick is the material usually employed for permanent buildings, and the thatched roofs are replaced by tiles or concrete. Such buildings, however, become insufferably hot during the day, and numerous doors and windows are provided to allow a sufficient volume of cool air to enter during the cooler hours of the night; they give rise to one of our chief difficulties, for, during the whole of the hot weather, these openings must be kept closed for ten or twelve hours at least, to exclude the heated external air, and if so closed, some special means of ventilation ought certainly to be provided.

It is not, however, easy to effect this, for the simple reason that the air inside the building is cooler, and therefore heavier, than that outside, and thus will not pass out easily by apertures above, which also generally admit quite as much dust as fresh air.

As these numerous doors and windows evidently give access to a great deal of heat, even when closed, it seems desirable to enquire whether fewer openings would not be a better arrangement, and there can be little doubt that this would be the case, if a proper system of ventilation were at the same time contrived by blowers, or otherwise, as will be hereafter noticed. It is also probable that thicker walls of hollow bricks, or even double walls, would be a great improvement over the present thin walls of solid brick. But brick-making machines are still in their infancy in India. The tiled roofs are also doubtless a great cause of the heat of these barracks. And as thatch is out of the question, it seems very desirable to find some non-conducting, non-inflammable substance, which should be interposed between the tiles and joists.

It may be noted that, amongst the natives, underground apartments are not uncommon, to escape the great heat of the summer. In the fort at Lahore, an extensive system of such _tykhanas_ (as they were called) was found on our capture of the place, and they were certainly much cooler than the rooms above ground; but the difficulties of providing proper ventilation and light would be great, and they would probably not be healthy for Europeans.

The subject of what is the best description of building, both as to design and materials, for Europeans in such a climate as India, is indeed still an open one, and admits of great discussion. Neither our barracks, churches, nor private houses are as yet satisfactory, and as to their architectural appearance, the less said about that the better. The Gothic churches generally built in our Indian stations are insufferably hot. In that at Mean Meer, it was not uncommon to hold the service, even in the early morning, outside the church and under its own shadow! Most of the private houses in the various cantonments are simply hideous, and even the best of our public buildings, law courts, town halls, &c., are anything but adapted to the climate. Imitations of Classical, Italian, and Gothic architecture are plentiful everywhere, but few attempts have been made to adapt any of the features of Oriental architecture to our Western requirements. Yet who can gaze on the beautiful domes and minarets of the Taj Mehal or the Jumma Musjid, or the graceful arches and bold cornices of the Motee Musjid, without admiration and envy? It is much to be desired that the whole subject should be taken up and carefully studied; but so long as we have so little originality even in England, we must have patience in India.

To return to our barracks. During the hot season, the air inside is rendered more bearable by the employment of punkahs or pendant fans, which, being swung from the roof and pulled to and fro by manual labour, afford a very grateful relief, though, of course, they do not really lower the temperature of the air. Besides this, during the dry heat, _tatties_, or screens of grass, are hung in some of the doorways to windward, and, being kept saturated with water, fresh air is thus introduced, which is often, during a strong breeze, from 10° to 20° below the external temperature. But this contrivance is of course useless during the rainy season, when the external air is already saturated, and when often there is not a breath of wind stirring.

About three years ago a committee, of which I was a member, was appointed at Roorkee to consider the question of ventilating and cooling barracks and other public buildings in India. It was pointed out that the present arrangement of punkahs and tatties cost Government annually a very large sum; that the results were not believed to be at all commensurate with the cost, and that it was desirable to see what improvements could be introduced.

Many interesting experiments were made, both as to the best modes of hanging and swinging punkahs, and as to the possibility of dispensing with them altogether by using blowers, similar to those employed for ventilating mines, which are to some extent already used in India under the name of thermantidotes. It was found that a system of blowers, with tubes for conducting the air into the barrack-rooms, would certainly be useful for the purpose of ventilation, but that they would not enable punkahs to be dispensed with, for they could not produce the same sensation of coolness as a punkah, except by keeping the whole body of air in the room in movement at an extremely rapid rate by an extravagant expenditure of power, or by throwing cooled air in, in sufficiently large masses, as in the case of a tattie with a strong breeze blowing. Now, although it was easy to produce the breeze artificially during the dry heat, it was of no use during the rainy season, unless some artificial means could be found of cooling the air otherwise than by evaporation. And there appears no means yet known to science of effecting this in such quantities as are here required, and at such a cost as will not be ruinous. It is true that many schemes have been proposed, and some tried successfully, on a small scale, such as the use of ice, ether, ammonia, &c.; also condensing machines, such as Dr. Arnott’s; but it is believed that the problem has never been solved on a large scale yet.

Of course, the utility of blowing in fresh air for ventilating purposes is not questioned. It has been carried out in several public buildings lately erected in India; but to blow it in even during the three hot dry months, in such quantities as to cool, as well as ventilate, the whole interior of a large barrack, is expensive work; for a whole set of barracks, comprising from fifteen to thirty different buildings, separated from each other by considerable intervals, several steam engines and an enormous quantity of tubing would be required; and the cost of such things in India is almost ruinous.

It seems probable, therefore, that the old system of punkahs will be found, for a long time to come, the most efficient and economical; but their form, construction, and mode of pulling have been the subjects of much discussion. As to the form, the committee above mentioned recommended, after a variety of experiments, that the punkah should be a rectangular framework of wood and canvas, 12 to 18 inches wide, with a heavy fringe 18 to 24 inches deep; that a system of punkahs should be rigidly connected so as to swing evenly without jerking; that the best effect was produced when they moved through an arc of 5 feet, with a velocity of 2½ feet per second; that no machine had been brought to their notice equally effective and economical with a man’s arm, but that a heavy pendulum, if properly connected with a series of punkahs, might be useful to ensure regularity of swing.

The number of machines or contrivances for pulling punkahs, of which models, drawings, or sketches were forwarded to the committee, was extraordinary. A few were ingenious, but complicated and apt to get out of order; the majority were designed by men ignorant of the first principles of mechanics, who thought that a pendulum was a prime mover, or that the weights of a clock wound themselves up.

Much of what I have said above in regard to barracks applies, of course, to other buildings as well. As Government engineers, you may have, besides barracks and their subsidiary buildings, to build or repair court-houses (commonly called _kucherries_), rest-houses of various kinds on roads or canals for the accommodation of the establishment, possibly a museum or a college, or a lieutenant-governor’s palace; and chapels and churches. In all these buildings the executive engineer is often called upon to prepare the original design, and if he has any architectural skill, may have an opportunity of distinguishing himself. As I have already hinted, I cannot say that we have succeeded in our attempts at Anglo-Indian architecture. The leading idea a few years back was, apparently, that a barrack was the unit, or standard, or germ of all architectural designs; that a barrack was necessarily a rectangular parallelogram with four walls and a roof; that the addition of a stuccoed Grecian portico, with a cross and green venetians to the windows, produced an excellent Roman Catholic chapel, and that if you wanted a Protestant church, you had only to omit the cross and add a tall, square tower. However, we have grown beyond that now, and produce excellent copies of Gothic churches, which would be very nice if they were not so hot; and in some of the Bombay public buildings, there has been a considerable amount of originality in the adaptation of the Gothic to Indian requirements. There is, however, still plenty of room for any young candidate for architectural honours to develop original talent in this direction. I would only say to him, for goodness’ sake try to be original, and don’t be content with slavish copies of buildings erected in Europe four or five hundred years ago for a totally different climate. If you _cannot_ be original (and doubtless the genius of originality is given but to few), then study the noble specimens of Eastern architecture that are still left to us, both in India and other eastern countries, and strive to comprehend the meaning and intent with which that style was designed; you may then catch something of the spirit of those great builders, and produce something at least suitable to the climate and the country, and creditable to the taste, which does not form a grotesque excrescence out of harmony with everything around it.

Private houses are almost invariably one-storied in Upper India; the rooms are at least 20 feet high, with numerous doors opposite each other, and small windows above for ventilation purposes. Each bedroom has always a bath-room attached to it. A verandah runs all round the house. The roof is either flat and covered with stucco supported on beams and joists; or it is pitched and covered with thatch, which is much the cooler arrangement. The floors are of polished lime, called chunam; the doors are double; the walls are white or colour-washed—never papered, as it is difficult to get the paper put on properly, and it is apt to peel off in the rains. But there is no reason that it should do so; and I strongly recommend you to get a practical lesson in paper-hanging and wall-colouring and painting before you go out, for you will find the knowledge exceedingly useful; it is simply impossible to get that kind of work done out of the Presidency towns.

Such buildings as racket-courts and swimming baths you may also have to erect occasionally; but I don’t know that there is anything special to say about them, except that the former are always open, with white walls and black balls, and that the front wall should look to the west, so that you may be screened from the sun in the evening. Of course you can have a morning court on the other side, if the station is rich enough to afford it.

Every executive engineer is supposed to be consulting engineer and architect to the public generally, and the civil authorities of the district in particular, and if the magistrate is an energetic man (as he generally is), you may have to prepare designs for market-places, _serais_ (or resting-places for native travellers), municipal offices, clock towers, and the like; and if you are of a mechanical turn, you may be sure that you will be consulted about the machinery employed in the jail manufactures, where you will find some mechanical appliances that will considerably astonish you.

The Water Supply of a range of barracks is, as a rule, derived from wells, which indeed is the only practicable course in the very flat plains of Upper India. The water is generally good and wholesome, and the supply sufficient. This is, indeed, the general source even for all Indian cities. In only a few have proper waterworks been as yet constructed, by which a supply can be delivered under pressure. Even in Calcutta, the works are not yet completed.

The question of a proper water supply for native towns is daily assuming more and more importance, especially since it now seems pretty clear that there is a close connection between impure drinking water and that terrible scourge the cholera. Waterworks have been designed and carried out in the case of a few important towns like Poona, but the majority of towns cannot afford to pay for expensive conduits, filtering beds, pumps, and reservoirs, while they might be able to pay for simpler schemes. In these as in other similar cases, I would impress on you the necessity of mastering principles and thinking out of a groove—I don’t mean neglecting details, but turning your attention to what is essential, and ignoring what is merely accidental.

For the privies, the dry-earth system of conservancy, common all over the East, is universal, and, if properly carried out, is no doubt the best and healthiest. Such a system, however, it is almost impossible to work properly in a large crowded city, and there is no doubt that a regular system of sewers is greatly to be desired in such cases. That of Calcutta is only partially completed. In Bombay and Madras, complete schemes have been devised, but I believe are not yet commenced. The cost of such works is again the obstacle, as well as the prejudices of caste among the people; the want of surface fall in so many cities is also a difficulty, as great expense would have to be incurred for pumping.

There are no Gas Works except at the Presidency towns, and as coal is only found in a few places in India, other cities must wait until some one can devise a mode of manufacturing gas cheaply from vegetable oils, which seem the most practicable source of supply in India. The subject is an important one.

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India abounds in rivers, streams, and watercourses of various kinds, and therefore the subject of _Bridges_ is a very important one to the engineer; but before describing any of the permanent structures that have been built, it may be useful to say a word as to the temporary expedients employed on lines of road, when money is not forthcoming for the more expensive forms of construction. The first of these is a sort of Irishman’s bridge—it is no bridge at all; you go through the water instead of over it, by means of Paved Causeways, which are often employed on watercourses which contain no water for the greater part of the year, and are only flooded occasionally. The banks are cut down to a gentle slope on each side, and a pavement or solid flooring of masonry or concrete is built to afford a firm roadway for vehicles. If the water is too deep or the stream too strong, the traveller must wait till the flood goes down. You will find a good account of such a pavement across the River Soane in No. 2 of the ‘Professional Papers.’ It is a mile long by 12 feet wide, and answers its purpose very well.

On many of the great lines of road, Boat-Bridges are in use during the low-water season, which are taken up and replaced by ferry boats during the rains. The boats used are the ordinary native boats, with a platform laid on balks and saddles; but they are often troublesome when the river is falling, owing to the necessity of removing some of the boats before they are left high and dry. Cylindrical Pontoons are preferable in this respect, and are often used. There is a pontoon bridge over the Jumna at Agra, and a very fine one at Cawnpore, over the Ganges. You will find descriptions of these in the ‘Professional Papers.’

On the Hill roads, temporary bridges are very common. Some are very simple, consisting of a single suspended cable, on which is a sort of travelling cradle in which the passenger sits, and is hauled across by tackle from the shore end. Others consist of a rope for the feet and two others for the hands, the three being kept apart by triangular sticks, and if you are of an acrobatic turn of mind, they are convenient enough. More ambitious specimens have a suspended platform of bamboo 3 feet wide; and a neat Wire rope bridge of 200 feet span was built over the Jumna two years ago by some young officers who went out, with the help of the native sappers.

You will find another peculiar kind described in the ‘Treatise,’ and in No. 166 of the 4 ‘Professional Papers,’ put up by Major Lang, R.E., on the Hindustan and Thibet road. These are _Sanghoos_, consisting of beams weighted with stones, and gradually projecting one over the other until they meet in the centre. A Rope Suspension bridge worth study, over the Chenab, is described in No. 202 of the ‘Professional Papers.’ I would also draw your attention to the account of the Iron Suspension bridge over the Beosi at Saugur, described in No. 30 of the ‘Papers,’ erected forty years ago by an infantry officer with the unskilled labour of the district, and using materials procured on the spot. It is a good specimen of the way in which an officer is often called upon in India to exercise his mother-wit, and dispense with the ordinary means and appliances.

Of more permanent bridges, Timber structures are not much used in the plains, because wood is generally very expensive, and the extreme heat and damp loosen the joints and threaten decay to the timbers. You will, however, find several described in the books so often referred to, notably one over the Barra river, near Peshawur, by Lieutenant (now Major) Browne, R.E., one of my assistants at Roorkee lately.

Masonry Bridges of brick and stone are common enough, and you may often have to construct them. You will find several described in the ‘Papers,’ and the descriptions of the Morhur and Markunda bridges are especially good and suggestive. The piers and abutments of such bridges are generally founded on well-cylinders in the way I have already described, the number varying from three to ten according to the weight and size. In the bridges on the Lahore and Delhi Railway, great economy of construction was attempted by making each pier of one single well-cylinder, 12½ feet diameter inside, supporting a pair of lattice girders carrying a single line of rails. Now, as these were sunk from 40 to 50 feet below the bed, and had an additional height of some 20 feet to the girder above, the stability of such a long slender column was somewhat doubtful; and when the river scoured out its sandy bed down to the clay stratum in which the cylinder rested, the force of the stream, acting with such a leverage, threw over several of the piers;—at least, in this way I interpret the failures that occurred in these bridges last year. Had each pier been composed of two cylinders (one for each pair of girders and line of rails), with the two braced diagonally together, they would probably have stood.

I have not spoken of the calculations necessary for the Discharge of these rivers, and the Waterway of these bridges, because it is too long a subject to be treated of in a lecture. I will only say here that in no one single point is the Indian engineer so liable to make mistakes; there is nothing that requires so much study, and failures on account of insufficient waterway are of every-day occurrence in that country. And even when your bridge is built, and you have good reason for believing the waterway to be ample, so treacherous are these streams, that their course may change in a single night, and your abutments may be taken in reverse. In the bridge over the Sutlej, thirty-eight spans of 110 feet each were provided for the stream, and yet, when I saw it, not a drop of water was going under the bridge; the stream had shifted while the bridge was being built. Twenty other spans have since been added, the embankments have been made very massive and defended by spurs and groins at a great expense against the action of the river; yet there is no certainty that the river may not attack the embankment at some other point in the breadth of its valley (which is 5 miles across), and force its way through, leaving the bridge high and dry. By the last mail I see that one of the piers has failed, and all traffic is stopped.

Of Iron Girder Bridges there have been many fine specimens erected since the railways have been begun. Except a few small ones which have been constructed at Roorkee, they have all been made up in England, sent out in pieces, and erected on the spot. I especially commend to your notice the paper on the Tonse Bridge, in the ‘Professional Papers,’ as giving an excellent idea of the difficulties of this kind of work.

So much, then, for bridges. I now turn to the very important subject of _Roads_. Great progress has been made within the last twenty years in providing India with roads, but thousands of miles are still wanted before the road system can be considered anything like complete. The cost of carriage in many parts of the country is still enormous, owing to the wretched state of the unmetalled tracks, and whole districts may be starving while plenty reigns in those adjoining, owing to the same cause. However, these are questions with which the young engineer at least has seldom anything to do; his work begins when the construction of the road is decided upon. The rules regarding the laying out and construction of roads are of course the same in India as in other countries. I will only dwell on characteristic specialities. Of the construction of the earthwork I spoke in my last lecture. The Metalling employed is kunkur, already described, and various kinds of stone used in macadamizing in the ordinary way. Heavy iron or stone rollers, drawn by bullocks, are usually employed, but steam road-rollers have lately been introduced in Calcutta, Bombay, and even the wilds of the Central Provinces.

The Grand Trunk Road[B] runs from Calcutta to Peshawur, a distance of 1600 miles, passing through the Rajmehal hills by some very heavy works, then on to Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore, and Delhi, thence to Umballa, and Lahore, and Jhelum, by massive embankments; thence for the last 160 miles to Peshawur it is carried by some of the heaviest and most difficult works in the world. The designer and constructor of the whole line was Lieut. (now Colonel) A. Taylor, R.E., C.B., director of the attack at the siege of Delhi.

The Hindostan and Thibet road is another fine work which you will find described in the books. It is carried right through the hills from Kalka at the foot, viâ Simla, up the valley of the Sutlej, and is about 300 miles long; but only the first 60 miles are open for wheeled traffic. Sometimes it is carried but little above the level of the river, then it ascends a hill-side by a series of steep zigzags, then it goes boldly through a rock by a heavy cutting or short tunnel, then through a magnificent forest of deodars, then by the side of a vertically scarped hill, 2000 feet down, in which the road is either blasted out of the solid rock or supported by iron bearers let into the rock, and carrying a timbered floor. Probably no road in the world offers such fine scenery to the traveller. The officer who did most of the work on this road was Major Lang, R.E., my _locum tenens_ at Roorkee. Before leaving the subject of roads, I may draw your attention to two or three instruments used in tracing hill roads, which you will find described in the ‘Treatise’—the Madras Clinometer, and De Lisle’s Clinometer.

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It was in 1849, I think, that the first short experimental line of _Railway_ was opened in India, between Bombay and Tanna, and soon afterwards the then Governor-General, Lord Dalhousie, issued his famous memorandum laying down the principles which were to be adopted in the construction of the great imperial lines. That great statesman had been President of the Board of Trade, under Sir Robert Peel, during the time of the English railway mania, and had been an eye-witness of the reckless manner in which money had been squandered by the system, or rather no-system, which had characterized the construction of the English lines. From that at least his famous minute preserved India. It prescribed the chief lines to be laid down, the gauge to be observed, and various other points essential to prevent the public from paying for the rivalry of competing interests. The money was chiefly raised in England by the various companies, but the Government guaranteed a minimum dividend of 5 per cent. per annum to the shareholders, in return for which it was to exercise a complete control over the work, through its own consulting engineers. This divided responsibility doubtless had great disadvantages, and it has since been thought preferable for the Government to borrow the money itself, and to undertake the construction of the lines through the P. W. Dept.; but at that time Government was not in a position to undertake the work, and the money subscribed to make railways could not of course be diverted to any other purpose, as would probably have been the case in the event of war, had Government borrowed the money itself. At any rate, the main lines have been constructed, though doubtless at a higher cost than was anticipated, and their opening has been attended with incalculable advantage to India, both in a military and political, as well as a commercial, point of view.

The East Indian Railway runs from Calcutta up the valley of the Ganges, by the great cities of Burdwan and Patna, near Benares, to Cawnpore, Mirzapore, and Allahabad, and thence to Allyghur and Delhi, a distance of 1040 miles. Agra is served by a branch line from the Toondla junction. There is also a branch line, 220 miles long, from Allahabad to Jubbulpore, where it joins the Great Indian Peninsula line from Bombay, a distance of 600 miles. The Eastern Bengal line runs for 120 miles from Calcutta to Kooshtea, whence it is now being continued towards Assam. Another line runs from Bombay across India to Madras, whence a line runs down the coast to Trichinopoly. From Delhi the main line proceeds to Saharunpore, Umballa, and Loodiana, to Lahore, a distance of 330 miles, whence a line of 210 miles runs down to Moultan. There is also a branch line, 50 miles long, from Cawnpore to Lucknow, and a few others with which I need not trouble you.

The new lines now being projected, and to be constructed by the Government itself, are the line from Lahore to Peshawur, 265 miles, one from Moultan to Kotree, down the valley of the Indus, 600 miles; one from Agra, through Rajpootana, to Indore; and another from Delhi. It has been resolved to adopt a mètre gauge for these lines, and to construct them with the severest regard to economy, and the Government engineers, military and civil, have doubtless a fine field before them.

To return to the lines already opened; they comprise some of the finest engineering works in the world. On the East Indian line, are the great iron bridges over the Jumna at Allahabad, and those over the Tonse and Soane, besides very heavy embankments and severe rock cuttings in the new chord line through the Rajmehal hills. On the Lahore and Delhi line, are the heavy embankments between the Jumna and Sutlej, and the bridging of the Jumna, Sutlej, Beas, and Markunda rivers. The continuation of this line towards Peshawur by the Government engineers will involve works of great difficulty and magnitude in the rocky country between the Jhelum and Indus, and the bridging of those two rivers, besides the Ranee and the Chenab. The passage of the last river alone will task the highest engineering skill, as that of the Sutlej has already, and for the same reasons,—the exceedingly capricious character of the stream, the sandy nature of the bed and banks, and the enormous quantities of silt brought down by the waters.

On the Great Indian Peninsula line are works of at least equal magnitude, though of a different kind, foremost among which stand the great inclines of the Bhore and Thull Ghats, by which the railway ascends the steep barrier of the Western Ghats by a series of zigzags, inclines, curves, and tunnels, which render those works unequalled in the world. On the Thull Ghat, for five continuous miles there is a grade of 1 in 37, in which occur many severe curves; while the Bhore Ghat incline is 19 miles long, and in that distance has no less than thirty tunnels.

The Rails on all these lines are of the usual double-headed pattern, weighing from 66 to 90 lbs. per lineal yard, and laid generally in chairs on transverse wooden sleepers. These sleepers are either of one or other of the woods that I have already described, sometimes kyanized or burnettized; but large numbers of creosoted fir sleepers have also been imported from Europe, and a certain number from Australia. The Punjab line is almost entirely laid on Greaves’s patent Pot sleepers, with which doubtless you are acquainted. The advantage of such a roadway is of course the indestructibility of its material (iron); its disadvantage, that the cast-iron sleepers are apt to get broken, and that the rigidity of the roadway is bad for the rolling-stock at high speeds. But there is no doubt that the life of a timber sleeper in India is very short, and that it is very expensive to renew them; and a good wrought-iron permanent way, that shall not be absolutely ruinous in first cost, is still a desideratum.

The Locomotives employed on the Northern lines more nearly resemble those in America than in England, as they have to burn wood instead of coal. A huge spark-catcher is hoisted over the chimney, as serious accidents at one time were common from the blazing sparks of wood out of the uncovered funnel; and a cow-catcher is placed just in front of the smoke-box, to take up stray cows or buffaloes, who _will_ get on to the line in spite of the fencing. The engine-drivers are all Europeans, I think, at present.

Fences are made of cactus or other hedges, or of the usual wire line, or often simply of a mud wall and ditch.

There is nothing particular to say about the Stations, which are similar to those in England, with some adaptation to the requirements of the climate.

The Passenger Carriages are a great deal too much like those in England, and are generally very hot and uncomfortable. The best have double roofs, with cane backs and seats; but none have punkahs or tatties; and it is only lately, and at the instance of a very stern reminder from Government, that any serious attempt has been made to render passenger carriages for European travellers more comfortable in the hot weather. On the Great Indian Peninsula line, however, there are very comfortable saloon carriages, with movable berths, and bath-room and W.C. attached. Considering that from Bombay to Calcutta or Lahore is a journey of some seventy-five hours, it is evident that these things are serious matters in India.

That the results of these railways have been of the greatest benefit to India in both a political and military sense, it would be impossible to deny. Their educational and social value, too, to the people at large have been great, and indirectly they have doubtless added much to the wealth of the country. But only one line, I think, pays more than the guaranteed 5 per cent., so that for all the others, the Government pays a heavy charge annually for the advantages offered by the railways, and this charge has of course to be met by taxation. The traffic, too, is increasing very slowly, and it seems that much is still wanting to assist its development to a much larger extent than heretofore. One reason for this is, doubtless, that a great portion of the goods traffic consists of articles, such as grain, of large bulk and small intrinsic value, which will not bear high transit charges. Another cause is that the natives, though travelling far more than was anticipated, have not yet learned to travel to the same extent as Europeans.

One mode of increasing the inducement would, I suggest, be to make the railway fares more uniform, and the tickets more easily procurable than at present; and this mode, indeed, would apply to English, as well as to Indian, lines. There seems no more reason that you should have to buy your ticket for a railway journey five minutes before starting, and all in a scramble in front of a little pigeon-hole, than that you should be forced to purchase your postage-stamps at the General Post-office only, and just five minutes before the post goes out. I don’t see why all journeys, up to a certain number of miles, should not be performed at one uniform rate of charge, and by tickets procurable at the nearest stationer’s, and available for any line in the kingdom. Such a measure would be a great convenience to the traveller, would prevent him in India from being cheated, as he often is, by the native railway clerks, would effect a considerable economy in the railway office establishment, and, where the lines are all under Government control, ought to be carried out with very little trouble.

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But we must go on to the leading speciality of all Indian engineering, I mean, the subject of _Irrigation Works_. Of course there are other countries in which artificial irrigation is extensively developed,—more indeed than in India,—notably, for instance, in the provinces of Piedmont and Lombardy, in the kingdom of Italy, where they are in advance of us both in the economical distribution of water, and in all legislative questions affecting the administration and rights of, and property in water. But in no other country but India have works been undertaken on so gigantic a scale; and it is in the dealing with such vast bodies of water, and their carriage over such great distances and in the face of so many impediments, that the specialities of Indian irrigation works really consist.

Now, in order to give you a clear idea of the subject, I must begin by premising a few remarks of an agricultural and financial character. India is almost entirely an agricultural country. It is true she has great mineral resources, but these are as yet undeveloped. She has had valuable manufactures, and there is no reason she should not have them again; but for many ages past and for as many to come, she has been and will be almost entirely agricultural.

Again, half of the whole Government revenue is derived from the land. It is called a land _tax_, but is really a land _rent_; that is, rent paid by the occupier or cultivator, as the case may be, to the State as the great landlord. This has been the case all over the East from time immemorial; the only ownership in the land belongs to the Government, although the occupier or cultivator often has rights of occupancy which are almost as inalienable as the right of the State.

This being the case, it is evident that the Government is as much interested as the people in the productiveness of the harvest; for if the harvests fail, the people not only starve, but cannot pay the land rent, and the Government has to feed thousands of hungry people with an empty exchequer. Owing to the absence of roads and railways in years gone by, any failure of the rains in a province produced the most appalling distress, and the people died by hundreds and thousands.

Hence, so long back as 300 years ago, the Mahomedan emperors, commonly called the Great Moguls, took a great interest in artificial irrigation, and under the direction of a Mahomedan “Royal Engineer,” one Aliverdi Khan, several canals were opened out. Some of these, after falling into disuse from various causes, have been re-opened and improved under the British Government, and are now known as the East and West Jumna Canals, the one being 110, the other 500 miles, long. Then the Government commenced a great work of its own, the Ganges Canal, of which the main channels alone are 700 miles long, and the first-class distributaries 3000 miles more. Since then, the Bari Doab Canal has been completed; the Sirhind, Soane, and Sardah canals are in progress, and others are projected.