stream. If the unwary passenger attempts to make
use of it, it opens out in the middle; if a high tide comes
down, it waits not to struggle for mastery, but departs
bodily. Ponies have the sense while passing over to
stretch their legs as far as possible, so as to distribute
the weight. Soon after noon I reached Atchibal,
another summer halting-place of the Moguls. There a
palace of the usual type was built of ohunam and stone,
with a wealth of wooden lattice work and miniature
editions to be used as summer-houses, distributed about
the gardens, so that in the hottest weather the ladies
could find coolness, and slumber peacefully, soothed by
the sound of the rushing waters. The springs; were
innumerable, and were cleverly directed so as to fill
the stone conduits flowing round the gardens, and
feeding the. numerous fountains which, on State
occasions, were used to flood the terraces ; coloured
lights illuminating the waters and adding to the gaiety
of the scene. When I arrived, I thought some lineal
descendant of those old rulers must have returned again
and be holding high revel. Hundreds of coolies,
“ kahars ” (porters), grooms, shikaris were collected
together in large camps; ponies innumerable, in
gorgeous trappings, were picketed out; a vast range
of small white peaks showed a big encampment inside
the gardens, and the hurrying of gaudily badged
chuprassis (official messengers, lit. badge-bearers) told
me that unusual “ company ” was about. The chowkidar
(watchman and caretaker) of the rest-house could only
tell me that Burra Sahibs and Shazadas (big lords and
princes) were there, and as he made ready for me tea
served in fine china, and real “ double ro ti” (English
bread, only to be got in Srinagar), I felt convinced that
my much-appreciated feast must be closely connected
with the magnificence over the way!
When my own men came in I made further efforts
to ascertain into what “ high society L I was being thrust,
but information was vague, and I remained in ignorance.
Waiting till the sun was a little subdued I started then
for a walk and a quiet read under a spreading May tree
of my “ Lalla Rookh,” eminently suitable literature for
the occasion. Later on, trying to reach my camp unseen
of my gorgeous neighbours, I was perceived and hailed
with a warnith very far removed from the ordinary
“ Here’s a stranger, let’s heave a brick at him of my
countrymen—a warmth which seems to1 be generated
under foreign skies by their lonely lives and the melting
influence of more radiant suns. My lameness
received much sympathy, and every kind of help
was offered, from the loan of a pony to the
proffering of a chair and carriers. Vegetables,
fruit, and bread were promised me, all unknown
luxuries to the ordinary traveller when away from
Srinagar, and incidentally I discovered the Shazada to
be a nephew of the King of Italy, touring and enjoying
much sport under the escort of the finest and most
experienced shikari among the English officials there.
What sport he obtained I know not, but the contrast
between the open air grandeur, the unaccustomed
ceremonies, and the unconventional etiquette to be
observed in the palace of a Mogul emperor must have
given his tour a very real interest, even if it failed in
its ostensible object. I bear this scion of a royal house
no personal ill-will, but I trust that fate will not again
lead me to spend a night in the vicinity of a royal camp.
Natives see no object in wasting the beautiful moon