pped into Aru, to behold a draggled party squatting
round a central floppy heap in a wet field, which, as we gazed, slowly
upreared itself into a drooping tent.

In dear old England this sort of experience would have spelt shocking
colds, and probably rheumatism for life, but here--well, we crawled into
our tent and found it, thanks to a couple of waterproof sheets spread on
the ground, surprisingly dry. A change of clothes, a good dinner, produced
under the most unfavourable circumstances from a wretched little
cooking-tent, and a fire burning goodness knows how, in the open, showed
the world to be quite a nice place after all.

After dinner a great camp-fire was lit in front of our tent, the rain
cleared off, and I sat smoking with much content, while all our soaking
garments were festooned on branches round the blaze, and Jane and I turned
them like roasting joints, at intervals, until the steam rose like incense
towards the stars.

The coolies, too, had quite got over their homesickness, and were
extraordinarily cheerful, their incessant jabber falling as a lullaby on
our ears as we dropped off to sleep.

_Saturday, June_ 24.--We got away in good time for our short eight-mile
march to Lidarwat. The coolies went off gaily--the day was warm and
brilliant, and the views down the valley towards Pahlgam superb.

We had camped on the low ground at Aru, just across the bridge, but about
half a mile on, and upon a grassy plateau there is an ideal camping-ground
facing down the Lidar Valley, towards the peaks which rise behind Pahlgam.
Want of water is the only drawback to this spot, but if mussiks are
carried, water can easily be brought from a small nullah towards Lidarwat.

Tearing ourselves away from this spot, and turning our backs upon one of
the most gorgeous views in Kashmir, we plunged into a beautiful wood.
Maidenhair and many another fern grew in masses among the great roots
which twined like snakes over the rocky slopes. Far below, with muffled
roar, the unseen river tore its downward way.

By-and-by, the path emerging from the wood shelved along a green hillside,
where bracken and golden spurge clothed the little hollows, while wild
wall-flower, Jacob's Ladder, and a large purple cranes-bill brightened the
slopes where happy cattle, but lately released from their winter's
imprisonment, were feeding greedily on the young green grass.

I fancy the cattle have a remarkably poor time here in winter. Hay is no