at
least, formed of large logs, which overlap each other and approach with
their ends the middle of each span after the semblance of an arch.
Parasitic plants, and even considerable trees, take root in their
crevices and disguise the structure in an even more bizarre way than the
mediaeval buildings did Old London Bridge. There are seven of these
bridges within the city, about three hundred feet long, and between them
on either hand the houses overhang the water at the expense of all
visible shore, sometimes striding out upon stilt-like piles, their
multiform gables "fantastically set" with a total disregard of
uniformity and extent of facade that would have been the death of Baron
Haussmann or the builder of a Philadelphia block. Nevertheless, there is
a pervading tone and style which would identify a Kashmiri villa
transplanted into Christendom.

Two isolated hills overlooking the city, and visible afar off to the
weary wayfarer, are crowned and flanked with fortifications and temples
of one or the other religion. The list of the latter edifices included,
in Bernier's time, a Hindu pagoda claimed by the inhabitants to have
been built by Solomon, but it has now disappeared as completely as his
better-authenticated effort at Jerusalem. In return, as compensation, a
Mohammedan mosque has given place to a modern fort. The march of
improvement or of change shows itself in a yet more modern array of
cottages erected for the accommodation of English visitors. Here these
gentry hide themselves in an absolute forest of fruit trees of the kinds
familiar at home--apple, apricot, cherry, etc. The lovers of the apricot
may be interested to learn that it is _par excellence_ the fruit of this
soi-disant Eden, this glittering attic-window upon the Roof of the
World, and of all the slopes thereof up to the white-tiled roof-tree. It
flourishes up to ten thousand feet, only the stone-pine, of all edibles,
going higher; and dried apricots are a leading staple among the hillmen,
as dates are with the Arabs.

Upon the bazaars the English architect has laid his heavy hand, and
villas and shops like those of the Thames promise to mark the artistic
renaissance of Kashmir. The pleasure-houses of the emperors before
mentioned have so far escaped him, although it is to be feared he will
soon have the repairing of them. Their principal charms, the turf, the
great trees and the cascades, were never more beautiful, and have rather
gained by the s