are not movable quantities, and letters and bills pursue
one from Dan to Beersheba, every casual acquaintance
being let into the secret of name and address !■
Slowly we punted our way through the Mar Nullah,
where the obviousness of the odours was compensated
for by its piquant picturesqueness, passed under bridges
—some of them so ancient that they named Akbar
as their founder—through other waterways, where
a very heavy thunderstorm delayed us, fierce gusts of
wind alternating with the deafening roar of the long,
echoing claps. After tying up for .the night under the
protection of some willows, we Crossed the Anchar
Lake, a vast swamp, at times almost silted up with solid
land, and before the afternoon were at Ganderbal, the
starting-place for travellers up the Sind Valley en route
to Ladakh and Baltistan. The last reach before fetching
our moorings proved a severe pull, the stream, swollen
by the melting of the snows, flowing down with fierce
force, threatening to tear away the remaining piers of
the broken bridge and overflow the low-lying fields.
We found eventually a sheltered backwater, and,
sending out my men to collect a couple of baggage
ponies and some coolies, I roamed around and amused
myself sketching, in very unskilful fashion, fascinating
iris-crowned ziarats, dark-eyed children with scarlet
caps, roughly-carved gateways set in flaming wild
pomegranate bushes, and other delightful scraps of
colour. The stuffy heat was trying, and added strongly
to my desire for cooler regions—a desire more than
satisfied, as will be shown. The mulberries were just
beginning to ripen, and the children were out busily
picking them. Thousands of these trees are found in
every part of the valley, giving shade and refreshment
to the parched pedestrian. The cloying sweetness of
this small wild variety soon nauseates, and in a short
time they are left entirely to the cattle, great branches
being cut or the fruit shaken down in heaps for their
benefit. Keturning to the boat by a path bordered
with roses and jessamine, I plucked bouquets of the
yellow and pink blooms, almost overpowering in their
fragrance, and I was pleased by the appreciation of
two coolies who stopped their downward march to
collect some particularly good specimens growing high
up among the rocks.
By six the following morning I was ready for our
start, and watched the ponies being laden up. This
their masters accomplished by the slow process of
fastening on in insufficient style one object, and
letting the pony wriggle it round, they the
while grumbling at the weight, and always
beginning the loads by the most unwieldy object,
so that no room was left for other addenda!
When the sight had ceased to amuse, I quite firmly, and
not too mildly, suggested a different modus operandi,
audibly stating the reduction from backsheesh necessitated
by each hitch or slip, and at last had the pleasure
of seeing my “ Lares and Penates,” nobly topped by the
fine outline of the bath, disappearing at a fair pace
down the sunlit road.
I t was a day of days. A cool breeze tempered somewhat
the fierce heat of the sun, and for several miles the
road was shaded by great overhanging mulberry and
walnut trees. Spring was in the air; hundreds of birds
twittered and chirruped from the bushes by the wayside;
thousands of butterflies wrought a flicker of
colour. The villages we passed through were almost