Chapter 7

A RETREAT TO THE VALLEY.

August 21.—Left Ladak about four P.M. and halted for the night on the confines of the desert-plain at Pitok. On the road I succeeded—much to my astonishment—in getting a necklace of bits of amber, and a turquoise, from an old lady, whom I found at her cottage-door weaving goat’s-hair cloth. She took two rupees for the family jewels, and, when the bargain was struck, seemed in a desperate fright at what she had done, looking about in every direction to see that no avaricious old Lama was near, nor any of her gossiping acquaintance, who would be likely to tell the minister of what she had done.

For the first time during our travels, the retainers turned a little rusty to-day. The scarcity of the tobacco supply and dislike to quit the amusements of city life were the chief causes, and the consequence was that the cook, who was sent off at two o’clock to have dinner ready for us on arrival, made his appearance about sunset and gave us dinner at nine P.M. The Q.M.G. and the Sipahee sauntered in afterwards at their leisure, having left the coolies and ourselves to pitch the camp how and where we liked. Smarting under these indignities, and knowing that the Sipahee was the head and front of the offending, I, in a weak moment, committed an assault upon that ferocious warrior. The consequence was that the representative of “The Army,” feeling its dignity insulted in the face of the populace, immediately set to work upon the unfortunate natives, and assaulted even the gopa, or kotwal, of the village; and so severely was one of the coolies handled, that I was obliged to interfere in the cause of peace, and not without difficulty succeeded in stopping the stone I had thus so unwittingly set rolling.

This same Sipahee rejoiced in the name of Dilour Khan, which might be loosely translated the “Invincible One,” and such we always called him. He was a fierce-looking soldier beyond measure to look at, and very terrible among the miserable Thibetians, making desperate onslaughts upon the unfortunate boors, to obtain supplies fit, as he said, for the Grandees, the Cherishers of the Poor, the Protection of the World, &c.

The style of head-dress generally worn among the natives facilitated his efforts immensely in these matters; for, throwing aloft his sword, and relinquishing his umbrella, he used to seize suddenly upon a pig-tail, and, handling it after the fashion of a bell-rope, proceed to insist upon the production of impossible mutton and other delicacies in a way that was almost always successful, even under circumstances apparently the most hopeless.

He had a sharp, detonating way, too, of delivering a volley of Thibetian, at the same time curling up his fierce-looking moustaches and whiskers, and gesticulating with both arms, which always had a great effect, the more so that the expletives were generally in Hindostanee, and not being understood, were all the more terrible to the unfortunate pig-tails on that account.

August 22.—Left for Egnemo, over our old ground, which, wanting the attraction of novelty, appeared to us rather longer than on first acquaintance. The sun, too, was more powerful than ever and the deep soft sand more trying, so that we were glad enough to get under shelter at our journey’s end. Here we found the apricot trees, which were teeming with fruit when we passed, completely stripped and bare, and it was with difficulty we got a few from the houses for preserving purposes.

August 23.—Made an early start, and arrived at Suspûl after a pleasant march, a cool breeze from the mountains fanning our faces the entire way. Here we pitched upon a cool and shady camping-ground, close to a rushing torrent, where we were soon immersed in ice-cold water. While making a short cut back to breakfast up a precipitous face of concrete stone, I very nearly finished my wanderings in Thibet with an unpleasantly abrupt full stop. I had nearly reached the top, which was higher than I had imagined, when the treacherous lumps of stone to which I was clinging, came away in my hands, and, with a tremendous crash, down I came in a perfect storm of dirt, dust, and stones, very much to the fright and astonishment of F. and the mate, who were quietly finishing their toilet below. A broken bone in such a place as Egnemo would have been a serious misfortune, and it was therefore a matter of considerable satisfaction to find that, although half-stunned and doing but little credit in appearance to my recent washing, I had escaped with no worse injuries than torn hands and what the doctors would call abrasions of the side and elbow.

August 24.—Marched as usual, and reached Nûrila about noon. From the hilliness of the road and the laziness of the coolies combined, they did not arrive until two P.M., so that we breakfasted at three o’clock. To occupy the time, however, we took advantage of the products of the country, and set to work upon a quantity of apples, and having both thirst and hunger to assuage, I think we got through about sixteen each before the kitchen appeared. While bathing we were suddenly caught in a pouring shower of rain, which obliged us to snatch up our only garments and beat a hasty and not to say dignified retreat into a little den of a water-mill, where we crouched until it was over. After the rain had stopped, a curious fall of stones and rocks took place down the precipitous face of mountain which bounded the opposite side of the Indus to our camp. The noise and the commotion the stones made in their descent, reminded one exactly of volleys of grape, and to any traveller unfortunate enough to get in their way, the results would probably have been quite as disastrous.

Our larder having been low of late, we effected the purchase of a sheep here, for which we paid two shillings.

August 25.—Left for Lamieroo. The khitmutgar, having reported himself sick to-day, we mounted him on a pony, the efficiency of that branch of the service being of vital importance to the future prospects of the expedition. Having discovered, by yesterday’s experience, that nature abhors a vacuum, and no apples being forthcoming at Lamieroo, we halted for breakfast at the village of Kulchee.

Here I tried hard to purchase a curiously contrived praying-wheel from an old Lama, but without success. My old acquaintance, the gopa, however, brought me one for sale, but it was in such a dilapidated state, and so highly valued as church property, that I let him keep his shaky religious curiosity at his own price. Leaving Kulchee, we crossed the Indus at a mud fort, and bid the roaring, dirty river a final good-bye. Near this the bhistie and khitmutgar, journeying together, lost the path, and found themselves well on the road to Iscardo before discovering their mistake. The road to-day, like all our return journeys, appeared twice the length it did on first acquaintance. The hills, too, were very severe on the coolies, and it was fortunate we halted for breakfast on the road.

At Lamieroo, we found a great change in the temperature; a strong cold breeze blowing, and a general winteriness prevailing, which affected our retainers considerably more than it did ourselves. The Q.M.G. in particular, not having entirely recovered his health, and being low in the article of tobacco, still believed himself to be dying, and was most unusually low-spirited and down in the mouth. As it threatened rain, we pitched our camp close to an old serai, in order to allow our servants to ensconce themselves under a roof, and to derive the full benefit of their wood fire, which they lost no time in kindling.

August 26.—Exactly a mouth to-day since leaving Sirinugger. The live stock begin to show signs of time on their constitutions; the four surviving ducks wandering about, with a melancholy sort of consciousness that the mysterious fate that has overtaken their late companions is also hanging over themselves, and appearing entirely changed in consequence from the joyous birds they used to be on first starting for their Thibetian travels. To-day being Sunday, we all enjoyed a rest; and the feeling on waking at dawn, and remembering that we were not to be rudely turned out of bed, was quite a delightful and novel sensation. The wind, too, was unusually chill, and as it made nothing of the trifling obstacle presented by the walls of our tent, we were some time before we finally emerged from among the bed-clothes. The people here we found employed in pulling their corn crops, and stacking them upon the roofs of their houses. At Suspûl, although much hotter than here, they had hardly begun to take in their crops, and at Ladak, the harvest was untouched when we left.

In the afternoon, while rambling about the crow’s nests of Lamieroo, I discovered by chance a very curious temple in course of construction, and a number of Lamas and Zemindars superintending the proceedings. The principal decorative work was being carried on by a Chinese-looking, pig-tailed artist, evidently not a local celebrity, who was embellishing the walls most profusely with scenes, portrayed in the purest style of pre-Raphaelite colouring. The figures in these had only been furnished with flesh-coloured spots where their faces were to be, and the foreign “pigtail” was employed, seated on a high platform, in furnishing them with features and casts of expression in accordance with the spirit of the scenes which they helped to compose. This he did certainly with very great skill, and the operation was a most interesting one to watch. The floor was covered with pigments, and materials of all kinds, and the little community, in the midst of the surrounding apparent solitude, were working away like a hive of bees. They appeared to have a hive-like dislike also of the approach of a stranger, and one old Lama, with a twisted mat of hair erected on the top of his head—a drone of the hive—took a particular dislike to me, and scowled savagely as I quietly examined the curious designs upon the walls.

The eternal “Ûm mani panee” formed a very large part of the decoration, being painted over the walls in every variety of coloured letters. In the inner part of the temple was a large coloured statue, with eight arms, and two-and-twenty heads.

The heads were placed in threes, looking every way, in the shape of a pyramid, a single head crowning the whole. [29] One of the hands held a bow, but the implements contained in the others were entirely Buddhist in character, and to me unknown.

Behind this figure was a star, with innumerable radiating arms from the centre, while from the points of the fingers were five other rows of hands, continuing the star-like circle. These were in half relief on the wall, the figure itself standing out some feet, as if to receive and appropriate the offerings of corn, flowers, oil, &c., which already began to be laid at its feet. Among the litter I remarked several tame partridges and “chickore” walking about, probably sacred to the newly installed divinities.

The whole scene was a very curious one, and not the less so from being entirely unexpected, and occurring in such an apparently deserted spot. One might have explored the place a dozen times without hitting upon the hive of workmen, and, even when discovered, the excellence of the designs and workmanship in so uncivilized a region, was in itself remarkable.

Some of the paintings were of rather startling a character to find occupying places in the order of church decoration, or indeed any other, but they were not perhaps more unsuitable than many I have seen in more avowedly civilized temples of worship.

August 27.—We found it very hard, in spite of our day of rest, to turn out early again this morning. The wind was sharp and cold, and the temperature altogether decidedly changed from that we had been having. The head of the cooking department being still sick, proceeded on a pony, and, having a certain air of the Sepoy about him, very grand and imposing he looked. The road being long and up hill, we breakfasted at a tomb in the pass of Fotoola, reaching Khurboo about three P.M.

In the evening, the comptroller of the household made his appearance upon the cook’s pony, having from want of tobacco, and other causes, become done up on the road. The bhistie alone holds out, and seems, as far as servants go, the only hope of the expedition. To-day’s march has again spoiled F.’s and my own lately amending complexions, the icy wind and the burning sun together completely blistering our faces. In the evening we enjoyed a lovely sunset, which tinted the magnificent range of mountains we had crossed with the most beautiful hues imaginable.

August 28.—Another bitterly cold morning. Got away well considering, and arrived at Waka in time for a late breakfast in the little native serai, where we had before halted. Mr. Rajoo and the cook came in with an air of great magnificence. They were each mounted, and each pony was provided with a well-grown foal, so that the two departments may be said to have performed their march with four horses.

August 29.—Descended the Waka Valley, leaving Shergol to our left, and thereby saving about a kos and a half of already explored road.

Breakfasted under a shady grove of pollards, at the little village of Lotzûm, a cold refreshing bathe in a snow torrent enabling us to do full justice to our cook’s very excellent performances in this line. That dignitary was upon his legs again to-day, and Rajoo convalescent once more. Arriving about three P.M. at our old ground at Pushkoom, we found the peaceful, quiet-looking little spot we had left, a scene of the greatest noise and bustle imaginable. We were now received in due form by the Kardar, and Thanadar of Kurgil, not to mention the Wuzeer, or Vizier of Pushkoom. This dignitary had formerly been its Rajah, but during Gûlab Singh’s time was reduced to the post of Vizier, or Prime Minister to nobody in particular, with a salary of some thirty rupees per annum. Where our last camp was pitched, we found a circle of natives congregated, some standing, some sitting on their haunches, but all accompanying to the full extent of their voices—at the same time clapping time with their hands—the efforts of a band of six or seven artists on the pipe and tabor, who kept up a quavering strain of what they doubtless believed to be music. To the united melody thus produced, a string of a dozen or so of ladies, in their full war paint, were decorously going through the monotonous evolutions of a popular dance, waving their arms about, gesticulating, and at the same time lingering, as it were, over the ground, and comporting themselves in that staid, yet fitfully lively way, which seems to be the general style of Eastern dancing. They were attired most picturesquely, and evidently in their very fullest ball costume, so that we were fortunate in hitting upon such a good opportunity of seeing their gala manners and customs. They all wore caps of some kind, either of a small, close-fitting pattern, like a fez, or in the shape of a large, and very ultra Scotch cap, black, and very baggy; these were hung round with little silver ornaments, something in the shape of wine labels for decanters, but studded with turquoises; some of them, also, wore brooches, generally formed of three cornelians, or turquoises, in a row. The broad bands of turquoise, worn usually on the forehead, were for the time disrated from their post of honour, and were suspended instead from the nape of the neck, over a square piece of stiff cloth, embroidered with strings of red beads. Round the shoulders, and hanging low, in order to show off the turquoises, lumps of amber, and other family jewels, were the sheepskin cloaks, inseparable from Thibetian female costume; they were, however, of larger size than those of every day life, and were gorgeously decorated outside in red and blue, the fur merely appearing at the edges. Below this, everything merged in some mysterious way into the variegated sheepskin boots of the country, also decorated with red, blue, and yellow cloth patterns on the instep. These bore a very conspicuous position in the dance, as the ladies, contrary to the principles of modern art, were continually regarding and showing forth the aforesaid boots, as they glided about, and pattered the time to the well-marked music. The dance was altogether much more pleasing than the Indian nach, and the ladies, in spite of their savage jewellery, and rude manner, were much more womanly and respectable than their gauzy, be-ringed and bare-footed southern rivals.

After the dance was over, there was a general move to a large, open space of ground, where the male part of the community were to show off their prowess in the native games. To my astonishment, some fifty or sixty Thibetians here assembled, each provided with a veritable hockey stick, not on foot, however, but each man mounted on his own little mountain pony, and prepared to play a downright game of hockey on horseback. In the centre of the battle-field, between the two “sides,” the pipes and tabors forming the band took their station, and each time the wooden ball of contention was struck off, set up a flourish to animate the players. The Thibetians, however, required no such artificial excitement, but set to work with an energy and spirit, quite refreshing to behold, and the scene soon became most animated and amusing. The Thibetians, unlike Englishmen under similar circumstances, appeared to think the more clothes they had on the better, and in their long woollen coats and trowsers, and their huge sheepskin boots, they quite overshadowed the wiry little horses they bestrode. Besides having to carry all this weight, the ponies, most unfairly, came in also for all the shinning; but in spite of these disadvantages, they performed their parts to admiration, dashing about in the most reckless manner, at the instigation of their riders, and jostling and knocking against one another in a way that would have disgusted any other pony in the world. Conspicuous among the crowd of riders, was the thirty-rupee Prime Minister, who on a most diminutive little animal, charged about in a way he never could have condescended to do, had he had the misfortune to have still remained a Rajah. Each time that the ball was sent into the goal, the striker, picking it up dexterously, without dismounting, came again at full speed down the course, the band struck up, and throwing the ball into the air, he endeavoured to strike it as far as possible in the direction of the adverse party. Behind him, at best pace, came his own side, and a desperate collision appeared the inevitable result; however, not a single man was unhorsed during the entire struggle, nor were there any violent concussions, or accidents of any kind on either side.

The men rode very short, and their clumsy boots, stuck through the heavy stirrup-irons, gave them a ludicrous appearance, which was little indicative of the firm seat and active part they displayed in the games. After seeing the last of the hockey we pitched our camp under a grove of trees, and had an audience of the Kardar, with a view to obtaining information as to our new line of march, which here branches off from the old route. He, however, was unable to afford us much intelligence, and we were glad to get rid of him again, with a present of fifteen bullets, which were the objects he appeared, at the time, to covet most in the world.

To-day a charge was brought against our immaculate bhistie, by the Q.M.G., of secreting about half-a-pound of precious white sugar in his sheepskin bag. On being confronted with the Bench he confessed the crime, improving on it, like most natives, by declaring that it was for medicine for his little boy at home, who had sore eyes! The cook, being taken up with the festivities and the turquoises, gave us our dinner at an unusually fashionable hour.

August 30.—Started for a fresh line of exploration, not without some difficulty and opposition, in consequence of a desire on the part of the Sipahee and the servants to revisit Kurgil, with a view to the tobacco supplies supposed to exist there.

The consequence was that they obtained all sorts of information for us as to the badness of our proposed road, and the insuperable obstacles to be overcome from unbridged rivers, snow, &c. Persevering in our plans, however, we were rewarded by finding a great improvement in the scenery, and, from the novelty of the day’s work, a corresponding benefit to the spirits of the entire expedition. Passing through a little village called Menzies, we halted for breakfast within view of the northern face of an entire new range of snow-capped mountains. Everything gave promise of fine scenery in advance, and about four P.M. we reached Thambis, a lovely piece of cultivation, surrounded on all sides by monster rocks, and overlooked by a peak of pure white virgin snow, and here we pitched our little camp. Entering the village suddenly from the rocky mountain-pass, the little place looked inexpressibly green and refreshing, and we were soon under the shade of a row of pleasant pollards, which lined the bank of a stream near which we halted. As at Pushkoom, the second crops were down, and the people employed in thrashing and grinding their corn. The new crop consisted principally of pulse of various kinds, radishes, and a few fields of tobacco, and nestled in pleasant nooks and corners there were occasional gardens of melons.

Here we got two fine sheep for one rupee ten annas, or 3s. 3d., and one of them formed a sumptuous repast for the coolies and retainers, who held a most convivial banquet round their camp-fires in the evening. The primitive inhabitants seemed quite unaccustomed to the sight of strangers, and we found on this account, better and more plentiful supplies procurable, while the assembling of the entire village to behold the wonderful arrival, formed a pleasant excitement after the day’s march.

To-day we had the choice of two roads, one on either side of the torrent; that on the right bank was reported bad, and we accordingly decided upon the other, but an unexpected obstacle then presented itself in the shape of a bridge of rope of a very considerable length, crossing the torrent. It was formed of the twigs of trees, and being in an unpleasantly dilapidated condition, the passage was a matter of some difficulty if not danger. To save the direct strain a number of the villagers took up their position to distend the side ropes, and having to get over the outstretched legs of these officious aids, made the affair a very much more nervous proceeding than it would otherwise have been. The lowness of the side-ropes, and the oscillation of the ricketty structure rendered the feat altogether a rather more amusing performance to the looker on than to the actual performer, and I was not to reach the opposite shore. On the arrival of the coolies, they all hung back, and regarded the machine with utter astonishment, and when one of them did essay the passage, his coat caught in one of the twigs, about half way across, and not having the use of his hands, he was completely caught as in a trap, and unable either to advance or retire. In endeavouring to turn, his load nearly upset him, and there he remained until extricated by one of the villagers. A few of the coolies afterwards got across, and also the servants, with great trepidation, but the greater number, with the main body of the baggage, including, alas! all the cooking department, except one load, were afraid to essay the passage, and had to take to the bad road in despair. The fraction of the commissariat stores which did reach our side of the water turned out to be plates, knives, forks, and kettles, so that we had before us no prospect of breakfast until we arrived at a village some ten kos off, where a more respectable bridge was to re-unite us with our goods and chattels.

As promised, the path on our side was pretty good, and led us through several peaceful little villages, overhung by giant rocks, and dotted with enormous blocks of stone, which had descended to disturb the harmony of the scene during some convulsion or commotion in the interior economy of the mountains. Some of these were taken advantage of by the natives to serve as canvas for their designs, and were carved with effigies of four-armed divinities, and other sacred subjects. With the exception of these, we saw few traces of Buddhism about us here. Passing through one of the villages, I bought a medicine-book, or charm, from one of the natives. It was in Arabic, and was rolled and swathed like a mummy, and worn round his arm. He told me that he had inherited it from his father, and appeared by no means happy when it was gone.

Arriving at Sankoo, we found it a well-wooded thinly-inhabited valley, about a kos and a half in length. Here we had a new specimen of bridge architecture to pass. It was formed simply enough of two crooked trunks of trees, and, considering the torrent below, it required a considerable amount of confidence to enable one to traverse it successfully. From the scarcity of the population, I had great difficulty in finding anybody to procure me a drink of milk, and when I at last discovered a woman and two children, she was so thunderstruck that, catching up one of her offspring in her arms and shrieking to another to follow her, like a hen and chickens swooped at by a hawk, away they went as fast as their legs would carry them. As this was no satisfaction to me, however productive it might be of milk to the baby, I began to make signs of bringing down the family mansion that short distance required to raze it to the ground, and thus succeeded in calling forth from its interior a half-naked old gentleman out of his study to my assistance.

He, however, in an abject way informed me that he had no milk himself, but would introduce me to a friend who had. I accordingly followed him, “at the point of the stick,” until we reached another mud hovel, where we found the lady of the house sitting in her porch working, and a supercilious-looking gentleman reclining at her side.

Neither of them, however, seemed to pay the slightest attention to my wants, and savage with thirst, I charged the whole trio, saluting the gentleman at the same time with an application of my stick. Instead of his jumping up, however, as I expected, I found that the unfortunate man was kept in his recumbent position by rheumatism, or some such ailment, and that, in my ignorance of Thibetian, and want of milk and patience combined, I had committed an atrocious and unwarrantable assault upon an invalid. Meantime, however, the lady was off like a shot, and soon returned from the dairy bearing both milk and flour, wherewith to appease the ferocity of her visitor. Having nearly choked myself with the meal and brought myself round again with the milk, I gave the invalid full compensation and satisfaction as far as I was able, for my attack, and again took to the road in search of the bridge which was to re-unite us with our baggage and our breakfast. Before reaching it, however, I was the unfortunate cause of the entire abandonment of some half-dozen houses, by merely halting to sit down for a few minutes under a tree in their vicinity. Whether the inhabitants—who appeared to be all women—thought that I was going to open trenches and beleaguer them or not I don’t know, but, after a few minutes, I used to see one of them dart out from behind a mud wall and scuttle away like a rabbit; then another lady would steal out, carefully lock the door, and with a child on her back and a couple of olive branches in rear, crawl over the housetop and out at the back garden, there taking to her heels, and vanishing with her convoy suddenly from sight. This operation being repeated in other tenements, I found myself at last left in full and uninterrupted possession of the entire settlement I happened to be in the vicinity of, including the cocks, hens, firewood, dwelling, places, and messuages, &c. thereunto appertaining and belonging. When they re-occupied the evacuated premises I don’t know, but Rajoo, I ascertained, wished them all no future happiness when, on coming up some time afterwards, he knocked at every door and looked down every sky-light and chimney in the village without being able to procure as much as a light to ignite the tobacco in his “hubble bubble.” The coolies having found the path on the right bank of the torrent quite as bad as prognosticated, we got our breakfast shortly before sunset. From the proximity of a high rocky mountain, towards the westward of our camp, however, this was considerably earlier than might be imagined.

September 1.—Commenced our last month but one of leave, by a fine march of some sixteen miles from Sankoo to Tesroo, or Sooroo, at the foot of the grandest snowy range we had yet encountered. The path led us over a gigantic fall of rocks, evidently the deposits formed by successive and destructive avalanches.

In some parts the traces were quite fresh, the rocks being rent and uptorn in a wonderful way; and, in one place, we passed the ground where two villages had been entirely overwhelmed by an avalanche, the entire population of twenty-five having been killed in the ruins.

After walking about five or six kos, in the finest and freshest of morning air, we suddenly opened upon a noble mountain of pure unbroken snow, rearing its head proudly into the blue sky among a train of courtiers, not so noble, nor so purely, whitely, clad as itself, but still arrayed in robes of glistening snow. Here the path emerged from the side of the rugged mountain torrent, and brought us about two kos over fine turfy grass to within some three miles of Sooroo; and here we halted, under a grove of trees, for breakfast. After this, we had another rope bridge to pass, which was so little to the taste of the coolies, that they were glad to get the natives to carry over their loads for them. On crossing we found the Thanadar, a fine old black-muzzled Cashmeeree, with his Moonshee, and a train of eight Sipahees waiting to receive us, and were conducted in due form to our camping ground. Here the breeze, as it whistled over our tent, savoured strongly of the snow, and reminded us of the vicinity of the chilly mountain Grandees we had seen on our road, and which still presided over us.

The natives even appeared to feel the cold, though in the winter months they are entirely snowed up, and ought to be pretty well inured to it by this time.

The entire valley is, in winter, totally submerged in snow, and a stranger might then pass over it without knowing there were villages beneath his feet. The bridges are annually swept away, and so suddenly does the hard weather make its appearance, that even now the inhabitants were in fear and trembling lest the snows should come down on them before their crops of wheat and barley were carried for the winter’s use.

Numbers of fields of corn are still within a week or so of ripening, and, should they be lost, the chance of winter’s subsistence would be small indeed.

The appearance of a Thibetian settlement here, as one looks down upon it from a height, is very much that of an ant-hill. The huts are built on the top of each other, and generally on mounds, and the people, like ants, are busily and laboriously employed in laying up their winter store, not only of grain, but also of firewood, and anything capable of serving in its place, to enable them to struggle through their dreary mouths of captivity.

Huge loads of corn and stacks are to be seen moving about, apparently spontaneously, disappearing through queer holes and corners of the earth, and again appearing on the housetops, where they are stacked and stored. The bundles of fire-wood being placed with the branches outside, and neatly ranged, they give the peaceful settlement quite a bristling and warlike appearance, as if defended by chevaux de frise. The Zemindars here pay but two rupees a year to the Maharajah, but it seems a hard case that such hardly-subsisting people should have to pay anything whatever in such a sterile dreary territory as they possess.

To-day we came across one solitary mound of the inscribed stones, probably the last, as we now cross the mountains into Cashmerian territory again.

To the south of our camp, the road from Ladak through Zanskar joins the valley, and we half regretted not having risked the chances of that road; however, it was uncertain whether it was passable, and, as time was valuable, we had but little option in the matter.

September 2.—Being Sunday, we had a regular rest, explored the country, and made the acquaintance of the few Thibetians who inhabited the villages.

Everywhere there were signs of the invasion of Gûlab Singh, some twenty years ago. Houses in ruins, and forts reduced to dust and rubbish. To replace these latter, a new fort had been constructed by Rumbeer Singh, in what appears about the worst possible position in the entire valley to render it of any use whatever.

The people were busily employed in their fields, pulling and carrying corn, and treading it out with oxen. A team of six I saw, most uncomfortably performing this work. They were tied together by the noses, and so small a piece of ground had they to revolve upon, that the innermost animal had to go backward continually, while the centre ones were regularly jammed together by the outsiders. Two deformed natives were employed in driving this unhappy thrashing machine.

In the evening, the Thanadar’s Moonshee came to beg a “razee nama,” or “letter of satisfaction,” which we gave him, together with a “bukshish,” with which he seemed well pleased.

September 3.—Got up this morning with a peculiarly cold feel, and started with a fine piercing breeze in our teeth, blowing directly off the snows.

Our force was augmented to-day by three goats, as portable dairy, and a party of natives, with three days’ supplies, also a guide, for our path lay over ground neither much frequented nor well known. To-day’s has been the grandest scene of the panorama yet unfolded to us. From the last halt, no inconsiderable height in itself, we mounted continually towards the huge white masses of snow, which so lately towered above us in the distance. Passing the remains of mighty avalanches firmly fixed across the foaming torrent, we ascended the snow valley by the side of a perfect mountain of ice and snow, the accumulations of, possibly, as many years as the world has existed, which had formed itself immoveably between the mighty mountain’s sides. The terrific force, with which the masses of snow had come down each season, to repair the ravages in the frozen monster’s constitution caused by the melting away of his lower extremities, could be seen by the enormous blocks of stone which rested on its surface in all directions. In some places fantastic arches of snow were thus formed, with blocks of rock resting on their summits, and such a distance were these central accumulations of rocks, and snow, and ice, from the cradles in which they were reared, that it was impossible to conceive, without the occurrence of an earthquake, how they could ever have reached their present positions.

One begins now faintly to understand how it is that the enormous number of torrents dashing about are kept supplied with icy life. The vast quantities of snow wedged into solid masses, which must have existed since all time among these mighty mountains, would serve to feed rivers innumerable, and the supply, as long as rivers and mountains exist, would appear to be inexhaustible.

Our path, if path it could be called, was very bad in parts, and so difficult for the coolies that we were fortunate in getting our breakfast at two P.M., and, when we did get it, a snowstorm which came down upon us rather hurried our proceedings in discussing it.

The entire afternoon it continued snowing, and the mountain-tops soon hid themselves and sulked away among the leaden mists. Our tent was pitched among a low sort of scrub, the only apology for fire-wood procurable, and here we soon had a fine carpet of fresh snow, which put the unfortunate coolies, and the servants, and the three goats and the four ducks, and, in fact, everybody but F. and myself, who now begin to feel thoroughly at home, to considerable discomfort and inconvenience.

About a hundred yards from us rises the central mountain of consolidated old snow; while the monarchs of the place, whose hospitality we have been enjoying, overtopped our diminutive little worn canvas dwelling with proud and gloomy magnificence, or hid themselves from us in their ermine mantles, with aristocratic frigidity. [30] Before us, the path continues towards the clouds, hemmed in, to all appearance, by a mighty glacier, which it would seem impossible to avoid in our to-morrow’s route. To-day we again find the society of the little shrieking marmots, who seemed more than over astonished at what could bring so strange and motley a group of creatures to disturb the universal quiet of their solitude. Of all our party the cook, perhaps, here fares the worst. The only things growing about us are a few plants of rhubarb and the miserable scrub, which he is obliged to use with all faith as firewood! this being thoroughly wet requires much coaxing to ignite, and what with the difficulties of his profession, the cold, the falling snow, and the increased appetites of the Sahibs, the unfortunate head of the cooking department becomes for the time the most intensely miserable being, black or white, upon the whole face of the globe.

September 4.—Awoke this morning to find the encampment, and its vicinity, covered with snow, and every prospect of a snow-stormy march before us. The coolies and servants were in a deplorable state of frozen discomfort, but all kept up their spirits by laughing at each other’s woes. Just as the sun appeared above the mountains for a few minutes only, we got under weigh; the tent, however, took some time to disencumber of its load of frozen snow, and to pack, and all the baggage required excavating previous to becoming capable of removal.

The path up to the great glacier above us was wild and barren, it lay over a little plain watered by branching streams, and covered over with ice and newly fallen snow. Crossing one of these streams, I flushed a solitary woodcock, the only inhabitant of the wild, and shortly afterwards, our guide, an uncouth bundle of sheep-skins, slipped over a frozen stone, and came down in the freezing water with a splash, which, at that hour of the morning, made one shudder all over involuntarily. The snow-shoes which F. and myself had donned, alone saved us several times from a similar, uncomfortable fate. Our path, properly speaking, should have led over the very centre of the glacier; but, in consequence of the numerous crevasses and the early appearance of the new snow, our guide steadily refused to take us over the pass by that route. To have taken it without a guide would have been simply impossible; so we diverged to one side, and, after a sharp ascent of two hours over the snow, reached a sort of upper basin among the very mountain-tops. Here the scene which opened on us was wild beyond description. We were now about 18,000 feet above the sea, and in every direction around us snow hemmed in our view. Under our feet was a plain of pure white snow; the mountain-tops were snowy hillocks, standing white against the leaden sky; and from above the fleecy snow-flakes fell around us thickly as we trudged along. The ground was most treacherous, and required great care in traversing, and in one place, being ahead of the guide, the snow and ice suddenly gave way beneath me, and with a most unpleasant sensation of uncertainty as to where I might be going, I found myself standing up to my waist in snow and to my knees in freezing water.

The guide, almost at the same moment, came to the same end, and it was not without much floundering and blundering that we both extricated ourselves from our difficulties. Shortly after this we crossed the highest point of the pass, and here the guide said his prayers to the presiding “peer,” or divinity of the place, previous to asking for bukshish; after which he and the sepoy proceeded to smoke a pipe of peace and tranquillity together. The most trying part of our day’s work we found to be waiting for breakfast, the coolies being much retarded both by the road and the state of the weather. We stopped at a sort of temporary abode, where some slight protection from rain and snow was obtained by the piling up of stones against an eligible rock, and here, after a long and dreary wait, we breakfasted in a little smoke-dried, draught-inviting den, the snow all the time coming down in a way not altogether adapted for the enjoyment of such al fresco entertainments. Descending from this, we came to a grassy slope at last, and so by a most precipitous path to the valley on the southern side of the mountains, down which a formidable torrent rolled along, dividing itself into a number of channels not very promising as to our prospects of reaching the opposite side. Here we saw an enormous flock of sheep grazing on the mountain-side, seeming, as they moved to and fro in search of pasture, like a floating cloud against the hill. There must have been several thousands, though accurate computation was out of the question. They made, however, all the other mountain-flocks we had met, appear as nothing in point of numbers.

Arriving at the many-branching river, I was for some time quite at a loss for a ford, until a native, seeing the dilemma I was in, crossed to my assistance. Finding me stripping to the work, he insisted on my mounting upon his back, and in an evil moment I consented. The consequence was that, after passing safely a couple of the streams, in the deepest spot of the whole torrent, he tottered and fell, and down we both came, he in the most ungraceful position in which man can fall, and I, luckily, upon my feet. The sensation, however, on suddenly finding the water rushing past, and one’s feet slipping about among the clinking stones, was anything but pleasant, and it was with difficulty that I collected myself together and completed the uncomfortable passage. The tent being luckily pitched about a mile farther on, the loss of dignity in the eyes of the bystanders was the only evil result of the misfortune. Towards night it came on again to snow, and the coolies and retainers had another hard bivouac of it, while F. and I were obliged to keep all hands at the pumps, or, in other words, to fasten all available rags and wraps under our canvas, to keep out the soaking wet.

The cold was very great, and everything gave token of coming winter, and testified to what the Himalayas can do in the snow and ice line of business when their full time shall arrive.

September 5.—After a damp night’s bivouac, we awoke to find “a mixture as before” falling—a mixture of rain, sleet, and snow—anything but promising for the comfort of our day’s march. To avoid having to wait in the wet for breakfast, we sent on the kitchen and the cook, and, after some time, followed leisurely ourselves.

An overhanging ledge of rock afforded us some shelter for our meal, and, after warming and drying ourselves to some extent in this smoke-blackened and not very commodious little Himalayan hotel, we again pressed on. This was our third day away from either villages or regular shelter of any sort, and the retainers were naturally anxious to reach some settlement where they could, for a time at least, protect themselves from the rain and snow which still continued to fall. The consequence was, they pressed on some sixteen miles farther at a good pace, to reach a little wooden village at the head of the Wurdwan valley, and we saw nothing of them on the road. On reaching our halting-place, however, lo and behold, our unfortunate cook was absent, and nobody seemed to know anything whatever about him! The cooking things and the larder were all present, and dinner-hour was at hand; but, alas! the pots and kettles were without a lord, and the question of where was our dinner began to give way in point of interest to where was our cook. At the time F. and I left the “cave-hotel,” the whole of the coolies, Rajoo, the three goats, and the two sheep, had all gone on ahead, as also the “Invincible One,” the sepoy.

The bhistie and the missing cook had therefore only remained behind. The road, soon after leaving, entered a wooded gorge, and, as the valley narrowed, the torrent began to get considerably more rapid and boisterous, as it took to leaping down the giant rocks, which bound it in between their iron grasp and formed its only bed.

The path was wet and sloppy, and led in parts along the tops of rather dangerous precipices. Passing cautiously over these, and through wooded paths lined with mosses and wild flowers, whose perfume scented the entire air, we came upon a curious bridge of well-packed snow, which spanned the torrent. A treacherous-looking specimen it was, and after taking its likeness in my pocket-book, I was passing it as a matter of course, when I suddenly heard a shout, and perceived F. and the mate at the other side of the torrent beckoning me to cross the snow. I accordingly, with no very good grace and some astonishment, essayed the passage. The snow I found hard as ice, and not liking the look of its treacherous convex sides, I held my course straight up the centre, and then descended with great care and deliberation along the junction of the snow and the mountain. So slippery was the passage, that without grass shoes I should have been sorry to have attempted it, and, as I halted to regard the curious structure from a distance, I could not help thinking what a likely spot it was for a traveller to lose his life without anybody being the wiser, and what a small chance he would have in the deep and rapid torrent below if he should happen to slip into its remorseless clutches. The path from this continued its perilous character, in one place traversing a precipitous face of rock only passable on all fours, beneath which a thick cover of long grass and weeds hung over the deep, treacherous-looking pools of the torrent. Having on a pair of grass shoes which had already done one day’s work, I had broken down about half way, and was now nearly bare-footed. I consequently did not arrive till nearly the last of the party, and found the tent pitched and fires lit under a group of large trees, in the wooden village of about a dozen houses, called Sucknez. It was then getting dusk, and after waiting a reasonable time, we sent out a party from the village to make search for our missing man, while F. and I, lighting a fire almost in the tent door, proceeded to cook our own dinner.

The materials consisted of an unlimited supply of eggs and a box of sardines, hitherto neglected, and despised among the artistic productions of our lost professor. F. superintended the frying of the eggs, and produced a conglomeration of some eight of them, which we pronounced unusually delicious, while I laid the table and looked after the kettle, for we thought it better, under our bereaved circumstances, to knock tea and dinner into one meal. Although we had made a longish march, we managed, with the aid of the kettle and the brandy, to sit up by the light of a roaring pine fire until late, in the hopes of some news arriving of our searching party. None however came, and we went to bed hoping that the man had lost his way, and fearing that he had fallen either over the slippery snow-bridge or down one of the many precipices into the torrent.

September 6.—Morning came, but neither news of our cook nor of the party who went out in his search, and, after breakfast, donning a pair of grass shoes, and provided with some matches and a small bottle of cherry-brandy, I sallied out with the mate on a voyage of discovery. Outside the village I met the searching party, who had been out all through the bitter night, but had found no traces of the object of their search.

Sending a note to F. to dispatch all the coolies to search, I pressed on to the most dangerous precipice of our yesterday’s route, and, descending to the torrent, searched about the grass and weeds at the bottom, but without finding any traces. About this place I met three lonely travellers, laden with meal, who had come along the entire path, but had seen no sign of a human creature anywhere. I now gave up our man as lost, but still held on, in a pouring mixture of sleet and snow, which added considerably to the gloom of the scene. Every now and then the old mate, who was in very low spirits, would raise a lugubrious wail at the top of his voice of “Ai Khansaman Jee! Ai Khansaman Jee?” “Oh, cook of my soul! oh, cook of my soul, where art thou?” at the same time apparently apostrophizing the deepest whirlpools of the torrent, while the roar of the waters effectually prevented his magnificent voice from reaching more than a dozen yards from the spot where he stood. Arriving at the snow-bridge, we examined it closely for signs of footmarks; it was, however, so hard that it baffled all our efforts.

At the other side I explored the path which I myself had followed in the first instance. It, however, only led to a small shelter among the rocks and trees, where the natives had evidently been in the habit of lighting their fires and halting for the night. After continuing the search to another snow-bridge above, we returned to our camp, and made the sepoy issue a notice that twenty rupees reward would be given for the recovery of our cook, dead or alive, and also that a reward would be given to any person who should bring us any reliable information about him. At the same time we sent the notice to the villages below, and spread it as much as possible; but though twenty rupees would be a small fortune to one of these people, they took but little interest in the matter, and looked upon the whole thing as “Kismut,” or destiny. “If it was the will of God that the body should be found, it would be found, if not, where was the use of looking for it;” and so they took no steps whatever in the matter.

To add to the probabilities of the snow-bridge having been the cause of our loss, it appeared that a short time before, a coolie carrying Pushmeena &c. had fallen there, and had never since been heard of; while another, who had also fallen into the torrent, was only discovered six days afterwards miles and miles below.

Having now despatched several searching parties, and received no tidings, we decided upon retreating to the next village down the valley, and halting there for a few days, in order to do all we could for our unfortunate man.

September 7.—Started on our march again in heavy sleet and rain, which, higher up the mountains, took the form of downright snow. The valley descended by a slight incline, through fir and other forest trees, and about four kos down, we reached another little wooden city, where, being wet through and through, we were glad to halt, and getting a good fire lit in one of the log-houses, we set to work to dry our clothes. The house was reached by a most primitive ladder, made of half the trunk of a tree, hollowed out into holes for the feet; and, as for the shelter afforded by the tenement, it certainly kept off the rain, but was not intended to keep out the wind, for the trees which composed the walls were so far apart, that we could see the face of nature between them, and, in spite of the open windows, which the architect had thought necessary to provide the building with, the breeze whistled through the chinks in a way that might be very pleasant in hot weather, but was not so cheery when snow and rain was the order of the day. The roofs were the most novel structures I had ever seen. They consisted merely of rudely split blocks of wood, some five or six feet long, through the upper ends of which stout pegs had been driven, and, thus suspended, these weighty wooden tiles overlapped each other, and formed a rude covering, which, unpromising as it was to outward appearance, answered its purpose sufficiently well, and was at least quite in keeping with the remainder of the wooden mansion. The people here were something like the Cashmeerees in appearance, and as we descend into civilization, fowls, and other hitherto foreign animals begin to show themselves once more. The entire substitution of wood for mud and stones effectually marks the difference between the Cashmerian and Thibetian sides of the snowy range we had just crossed. About eight kos from Sucknez we reached Bragnion, where we found the camp pitched in a most promising position, having a fine view of the valley below, and the distant ranges of mountains. The torrent here spread itself into several channels, and the valley, widening to allow it fuller liberty to pursue its joyful existence, descended in a succession of wooded slopes, one beyond the other, while the eternal snows again bounded the view in the distance.

The small portions of comparatively level ground in sight were covered with crops of the richest colours. One in particular, which the people called “gunhar,” was of the hue of beetroot, and grew upon its stalk in heavy, gorgeous masses, which added considerably to the richness of the landscape. The seed of this consists of myriads of little semi-transparent white grains, very like ant’s eggs, and the taste is something similar to that of wheat. Above our camp, in a ravine of the hills, is the place where an officer had been killed by the fall of an avalanche, while out on a shooting expedition. His companion, a noted sportsman, was saved, by making a tremendous jump; but he himself, and three shikarees, were swept away, their bodies not being recovered for two months afterwards.

September 8.—After a cold night, during which I dreamt of our lost cook, we were awoke by a shout of “Jeeta hy!”—“He is living!” then, “Rusta bhool gya!”—“He lost his way!” and gradually it dawned upon us that the man we had fancied floating down the torrent a mangled corpse was still actually in the land of the living.

It appeared that he had been discovered, sitting helplessly upon the mountain side, by a chance and solitary traveller from Thibet. He had lost his way at the snow-bridge, and, in trying to retrace his steps, completely got off the only track existing, and had consequently wandered about among the wood and cover as long as his strength enabled him.

The accounts of his movements amid the general excitement were rather conflicting, but this being the fourth day since his disappearance, and the weather having been very bad all that time, he must have had a very narrow escape of his life, from the combined effects of cold and hunger. By the man’s account who found him, he was so weak, that he was unable to eat the chupatties thrown across to him; and, his rescuer accordingly leaving with him some meal, and means to make a fire, came on to Sucknez, and from thence sent out a party to carry him in. Sending a horse and some supplies for him, we looked forward with some interest to his own account of his most unsought-for adventures.

The villagers here, we found, were in the habit of making regular expeditions among their crops at night, to keep off the bears who prowl about in search of food. Armed with torches, they keep up a tremendous shouting all through the dark hours, during the time their grain is ripening; and thinking to get a daylight view of the robbers, I started up the mountain with a native guide and a rifle. My “sportsman,” however, in spite of many promises, failed in showing me anything more savage than a preserve of wild raspberry-trees, on which I regaled with much satisfaction.

A curious custom in the valley is that of hanging quantities of hay up among the branches of trees, and its object puzzled me immensely, till my guide informed me that in the winter the snow lies five and six yards in depth, and that the supplies of hay, which now look only meant for camel-leopards, are then easily reached by the flocks of sheep which abound in the valley. At present these were all collected among the mountains, to be out of the way of the harvest, and this accounts for the enormous herd we had seen while descending from the pass.

September 9.—Found the sun brightly shining again this morning, and everything looking fresh and beautiful after the rain. The man who had gone with supplies to the cook returned with news that he was ill from the effects of cold and fasting, and not able to come on to us. While at breakfast, my yesterday’s guide brought us in a bowl of raspberries, which gave pleasant token of the change from the desolate country we had recently passed through, to the land of plenty we had reached. We also got about eleven seers (22 lbs.) of virgin honey, for which we paid three rupees. While trying it for breakfast, a dense swarm of the original proprietors came looking for their stores, and the noise they made buzzing about, made one fancy they contemplated walking off bodily with the jars. In the evening our long-lost cook again returned to the bosom of his family. The poor creature looked regularly worn out. From the combined effects of snow and fire he was quite lame; his turban, most of his clothes, and all his small possessions, had vanished while struggling through the thick cover, and he himself had subsisted for two nights and three days, unsheltered and alone, upon nothing but tobacco and snow! On losing his way, not thinking of crossing the snow-bridge, he struck right up the mountain side, in search, first of the path, and afterwards of some hut or shelter. He then gradually got into thick and almost impervious cover; not a habitation of any sort was within miles of him, and thus he wandered about for two days and nights. On the third day he descended again towards the torrent, and, falling and stumbling, reached a rock on its bank, and there seating himself, was, by the merest chance, seen by the passing traveller from the other side of the torrent. Making signs that he was starving, this man threw him some chupatties, and these, wonderful to relate, the cook put in his pocket without touching. Supposing him to be either too weak, or else, even while starving, too strict a Hindoo to eat cooked food, his rescuer then threw him across some meal in his turban, and went off for assistance. The poor creature was rather proud, I think, to find himself the centre of attraction, as well as of being valued at twenty rupees; and, as he falteringly related his sorrows and escape from death, the coolies and the rest of the forces gathered round him, listening with wide open mouths to the wonderful narrative of his adventures.

September 10.—Took another day’s rest to give our unfortunate cook a little time to recover his energies. In the evening, the villagers produced us a couple of hives of honey, which we packed away in earthen jars for transport to the plains. The amount was 39½ seers, or 79 lbs. for which we paid ten rupees.

The unwillingness of the people to produce their honey the “Invincible One” accounted for by saying that they were afraid of our not paying them. On inquiry, however, the real cause turned out to be, that the Sepoy himself was in the habit of exacting a heavy tax on all purchases on our part, and fear of him, not us, was the true difficulty.

In the evening, we took a tour through the village, and discoursed, as well as we could, a native Zemindar, whom we found with his household around him, gathering in his crop of grain, which had been partially destroyed by the early snow. His land appeared to be about four acres in extent, and for this, he told us, he paid twelve rupees per annum to the Maharajah of Cashmere. He failed signally, however, in explaining how he produced that amount by his little farm. The produce of his land sufficed only to feed himself and his family, and the proceeds of the sale of wool, belonging to his twelve sheep, he estimated at only two rupees. Besides these, he possessed a few cows, and appeared as cheery and contented a landholder as I ever met, in spite of his losses by the snows, and his inability to make out, even by description, his ten rupees of ground-rent to the Maharajah.

The crops around consisted chiefly of bearded wheat (kanûk), barley (jow), anik, tronba, and gunhar, all otherwise nameless; and also a small quantity of tobacco, turnips, and radishes.

September 11.—Having with some difficulty procured a pony for the cook, we started again for Cashmere, and, after a very steep ascent, through woods of magnificent pine-trees, with every now-and-then a glorious peep of distant snow-peaks towering in the skies, we reached the summit of the peer, which separates the territory called Kushtwar from that of Cashmere. According to the “Invincible” authority, this territory belonged, some sixty years ago, to an independent Rajah, and, on his death without heirs or successors, it fell into the clutches of Gûlab Singh. [31]

The entire revenue, he stated, was 3,000 rupees. From the heights along our path, we could see the great glaciers of Dutchen, with its mountain peak of 25,000 feet, which we had been bound for when the misadventure of our cook interfered with our plans, and left us not sufficient time to carry out our explorations.

The summit of the pass we found evidently not long freed from the old snow, while the new supply lay about in masses all over the mountain.

Passing over a wild and marshy plain at the summit, we began to descend a lovely pine-clad valley once more into veritable Cashmere, and, about four P.M. encamped in a forest-clearing, which, in a very short space of time, was illuminated by no less than seven roaring campfires. Our own formed the centre, and was formed of a couple of entire pine-trunks, while the others were ranged about wherever a dry and prostrate tree presented a favourable basis for a conflagration. In the evening we enjoyed the warmth of our fires considerably, and discussed hot brandy and water seated on the very trees which formed our fuel. We were all the more inclined to appreciate our position, as we felt that we were nearly out of our cold latitudes, and rapidly descending to the land of dog days once again.

September 12.—Continued our march down the valley, through continued wooded grassy scenes, and attended by a not too noisy torrent. About a kos from our halting place, we began again to see the wooden houses, and came to a halt at the picturesque little village of Nowbogh, where there were two roads branching off to Islamabad.

Here we had a long wait for breakfast, the servants being overcome by the unaccustomed civilization and tobacco they met on the road. We accordingly set to work at our own kitchen fire, and breakfasted without further assistance off fried eggs, rice, and honey.

In the evening we found alas! that a fire at our tent door, as we had had hitherto, was rather too hot to be pleasant. We were here visited by the local prodigy, a rustic carpenter, who insisted upon making something for us with his rather primitive-looking turning lathe. His shop I found completely al fresco, between a couple of cows in the centre of a farm-yard, and here he set to work at a walnut cup, which he turned out creditably enough. The only thing against it was, that his lathe bored a hole right through the bottom of it, which spoiled the utensil a good deal for drinking out of. However, not at all taken aback, he plugged it up with a piece of stick, and at once requested the bukshish, which was the chief part of the performance. Like most of the Cashmeeries, he complained bitterly of the exactions of the Maharajah’s government, and stated his own rent to amount to sixteen Huree Singh’s rupees (£1) per annum. Not seeing how he could accumulate that sum, by even an entire year of work such as his, I took the liberty of disbelieving his assertion.

September 13.—Started for Kûkûnath. Our path lay over a finely-wooded hill, from which we had a full view of the Peer Punjal range, now divested considerably of the snows which lay upon it at the time we started for Thibet.

Gradually descending into the valley proper, we soon found ourselves once more among the waving rice-fields and apple-orchards, while the wooden tenements again gave way to mud and stone, and thatched erections. At a village called Soprû, we found some iron mines in working order, and passing Kundunath, a pretty little spot adorned with gardens of melons, pumpkins, sunflowers, &c., we shortly after reached Kûkûnath. Here we encamped close to a collection of bubbling crystal springs, which, bursting out of the hill side, and spreading into a dozen separate streams, took their course down to the innumerable fields of rice which they watered in their passage through the valley. To-day our little camp assumes quite a lively appearance again, three sheep and several fowls having been added to the farm-yard; these, together with three surviving ducks of the real original stock, and a wonderful white Thibetian cock, who owes his life entirely to his highly-cultivated vocal powers, strut about in front of the tent, and give an air of unwonted respectability to the scene. Two marches more take us to Islamabad, and it seems altogether about time that the present expedition should draw to a close. Supplies appear alarmingly low. Sugar out some days, brandy ditto, European boots worn out long ago, and both F. and myself living in grass shoes; clothes generally dilapidated, and decidedly dirty; servants very anxious for more tobacco and society, and everything, in fact, requiring rest and renovation after our seven weeks’ wanderings.

September 14.—Reached the picturesque little baraduree of Atchabull once more, after a pleasant march from Kûkûnath. Shortly after taking possession, a fresh arrival of Sahib’s possessions and servants came in, the latter rather astonished to find the house occupied by such early birds. The owners turned out to be a colonel of the Bengal Artillery and a brother officer. These were almost our first acquaintances since starting, so that we were glad enough to fraternize and hear what was going on in the world. Two of our former boat’s crew here also appeared, and gave us tidings of our rearguard and baggage. The latter had been ejected from its lodgings, and taken out for an airing on the river, having been visited by a flood caused by the melting of the snows shortly after our departure. The weather here began to be unpleasantly hot again; the disappearance of the snow from the mountains having removed the principal cause of the usual coolness in the valley.

Dined with the white men under the spreading sycamores, and enjoyed the luxuries of bread, beer, and sugar in our tea, to all of which we had now been long unaccustomed.

September 15.—A short march brought us to Islamabad, which we found unusually lively from the assembling of a host of pilgrims, who had come from far and wide for a religious fair at Mutton. The groups of different nations, and their manners and customs while bivouacking, were most picturesque, and served to amuse and interest us for the entire day.

September 16.—Started early by boat, in the fond expectation of reaching Sirinugger in the evening. Dusk, however, found us no farther than the ruins of Wentipore, and we only reached the capital at daylight in the morning. Finding our old quarters vacant, we were soon located once more under a roof; and, fifty days having elapsed since we had seen either letter or paper, we lost no time in applying to the postal authorities for our expected accumulations and arrears of correspondence. This resulted in the production of twenty-seven epistles and eleven papers, which we carried home triumphantly in our boat, and proceeded forthwith to devour in that ravenous fashion only known and appreciated by such as have ever undergone a similar literary fast.