their only refuge against rains and wintry blasts, the
only places they could call home till the day of “ great
deliverance ” should dawn and another path be shown
them whereby they could win their way to those snowy
hills without fear or fatal falling from the law. Now,
as then, such renunciations are being enacted among
the dark places of the earth; for their own or others’
sins, pilgrims within sight of their long-sought goal
must turn away, and on stony altars wet with bloodlike
tears, offer sad sacrifices, sanctified by self-devotion,
solemnised by the simple faith that commands them.
In spite of its untoward commencement, this had
been a “ day of days,” my last one among the hills, and
the night was hardly less beautiful. Softly the stars
twinkled, and then their fight was wiped out by the
greater radiance of the moon, a moon that, peering first
between the dark pine stems, gave cheery greeting to all
who had sense to remain awake to fête it. With the flap
of my little tent wide open I watched her playing hide
and seek in the forest, then, mounting to her throne in
the open heaven, saw her shine in dignified solitude,
flood in g the open merg with a glittering sheen, which
outlined even tiny flowers into an unreal relief. The
stream below the camp, swollen by the late rains, made
a companionable sound, and the grazing ponies seemed
pleasant fellows. All living things and trilling brooks
and whispering pines were alive that night. Boon
companions were flowers and trees, rushing waters,
chill snows, and melting ice, the grazing herds and tiny
insects being all partners in a great festive confederacy,
smiled on by the moon, encouraged by the cheery, saucy
“ lesser fights,” who were quite ready to take again their
places and illuminate the world when she had set.
In spite of the change for the better in the weather,
the morrow witnessed my departure. Time was pressing,
some of the servants were really ill, and it was necessary
to make arrangements for the transport of my goods
out of Kashmir. In spite of a certain stiffness from my
yesterday’s glissade I walked, and as I descended to the
lower levels, the steamy heat of the rice fields, and the
rough, uninteresting road, I was cheered by more views
of “ great Diyamir,” and looked my last on that vast
peak. I shall not see his like again, and I went forward
with that sense of intimate loss and deep sorrow as1 when
a loved sympathetic soul passes from our life. I had
seen it, so one desired end had been accomplished; but
an influence had passed, a pleasure faded, my lonely
wanderings were drawing to a close, and humdrum fife
would have to be once more endured.
The heat was greater than when I had ascended to
Gulmerg, and, still somewhat stiff and sore, I decided,
if possible, to obtain a pony. Once more I was deluded
by the optimism of my attendants!
In temperament they resembled the Portuguese
devils of legendary fame. If fife for a few minutes ran
off the greased track, no evils were too enormous for
them to expect; but, once again on the right road, their
hopes took the definite outlines of accomplished facts,
and expectation and realisation were one! At the
mention of ponies on arrival at Magam, I imagined,
from the answers to my inquiries, that the route was
cropped with them, all possessing side saddles of the
latest pattern! Cheered by these hopes, I prepared
to roost, and realised the poor exchange I had
made in regaining choking walls, fly-filled rooms, and
the stuffy valley atmosphere in place of the vast sleeping