h holy carp, which scrambled in a
solid mass for bits of the chupatty which Jane threw to them.

A clear stream gushed out of a bank overhung by a tangle of wild plants.
To the left was a weird figure of the presiding deity, painted red, and
frankly hideous.

We were truly sorry to feel obliged, at four o'clock, to leave Bawan with
its massy trees and abundance of clear running water, and step out into
the heat and glare of the afternoon.

I found it a trying march. The road led along a fairly good track among
rice-fields, whence the sloping sun glinted its maddening reflection, but
here and there clumps of walnuts--the fruit just at the pickling
stage--cast a broad cool shadow, in which one lingered to pant and mop a
heated brow e'er plunging out again into the grievous white sunlight.

The cavalcade was increased during the afternoon by the addition to our
numbers of a dog--a distinctly ugly, red-haired native sort of dog,
commonly called a pi-dog. He appeared, full of business--from nowhere in
particular--and his business appeared to be to go to Eshmakam with us.

As we neared that place the road began to rise through the loveliest
woodland scenery--white roses everywhere in great bushes of foamy white,
and in climbing wreaths that drooped from the higher trees, wild indigo in
purple patches reminding one not a little of heather. Above the still
unseen village a big ziarat or monastery shone yellow in the sinking
sunlight, and overhead rose a rugged grey wall of strangely pinnacled
crags, outliers of the Wardwan, showing dusky blue in the clear-cut
shadows, and rose grey where the low sun caught with dying glory the
projecting peaks and bastions.

In a sort of orchard of walnut trees, on short, clean, green grass, we
pitched our tents, and right glad was I to sit in a comfortable Roorkhee
chair and admire the preparations for dinner after a stiff day, albeit we
only "made good" some sixteen miles at most.

_June_ 20.--A brilliant morning saw us off for Pahlgam, along a road which
was simply a glorified garden. Roses white and roses pink in wild
profusion, jasmin both white and yellow, wild indigo, a tall and very
handsome spiraea, forget-me-not, a tiny sort of Michaelmas daisy, wild
strawberry, and honeysuckle, among many a (to me unknown) blossom, clothed
the hillside or drooped over the bank of the clear stream, by whose
flower-spangled margin lay our path, where, as in Milton's description of
Eden,

"Ea