ous, and the hills separated and diminished in size, those on the
right being covered with the lank deodar, while those on the left
possessed only a bright green mantle of grass, far away in front they
altogether ended, and the open sky above the valley was alone visible.
And now an unusual occurrence presented itself. We were following the
stream upwards towards its source, yet at every mile it increased in
width and became more placid, till at length its surface was unbroken,
and it assumed the form of a magnificent river, wider than the Thames at
Richmond. The hills continued provokingly to overlap one another as
though anxious to shut in and hide the happy valley from sight. But at
length I discerned a far distant white cloud which I guessed betokened
the summit of a mountain, and a few yards further revealed a faint
glistening opaque line which the inexperienced eye would have certainly
taken for a portion of the cloud, but which could not be mistaken by one
who had before seen the snows. About half a mile from Buramula we
obtain the first view of the Vale of Kashmir, but not an extensive one,
as it is obstructed on either side by low hills. However, what is seen
is very pretty. A large level plain traversed by a broad smooth river
which has now lost its tortuous zig-zag course and bounded by the
everlasting snows covering the main backbone of the Himalayas. At the
head of the valley stands the quaint looking town of Baramula surrounded
by hills on all sides but one, embowered in trees and intersected by the
Jhelum, across which there is a good wooden bridge. The houses have
mostly an upper story, and are built of wood with gabled roofs. The
streets are narrow and roughly paved, and I regret to say are not more
pleasant to the nostrils than are those of other Indian towns. The
bridge built of deodar wood, beams of which are driven into the bed of
the river, and then others laid horizontally upon them, each row at
right angles to and projecting beyond the layer beneath, till a
sufficient height has been reached, six of these and two stone piers
form the buttresses of the bridge and a broad pathway of planks connects
them. The march was a fatiguing one on account of its length, and I used
the dandy freely. I shall however discard it altogether for the future.
I went to the Barahduree but found it occupied by a man whose name I was
told was "----," had been there five days. His Coolies had taken
possession of all the ro