impress one
with an undue sense of luxury. In fact, it presented an even desolate and
forlorn appearance with its gloomy and chilly passages and cheerless
bed-vaults.

[1] _N. Smyrnensis_ (?).

CHAPTER V

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SRINAGAR

We learnt that the earthquake of this morning was far more than the
ordinary affair that we had taken it to be. The hotel showed signs of a
struggle for existence. Large cracks in the plaster, spanned by strips of
paper gummed across to show if they widened, and little heaps of crumbled
mortar on the floors, betrayed that the grip of mother earth had been no
feeble one.

Telegrams from Lahore inquired if the rumour was true that Srinagar had
been much damaged, and reported an awful destruction and loss of life at
Dharmsala. I think if we had fully known what an earthquake really meant,
we should not have so calmly gone back to bed again!

The advent of Mrs. Smithson upon the scene relieved a certain anxiety which
we had felt as to immediate plans. The idea of rushing into Astor had been
given up, we found--not so much on account of our tardy arrival, permits
being still obtainable, but on account of the impossibility--at any rate
for ladies--of forcing the high passes which the late season has kept
safely sealed.

Walter, having pawed the ground in feverish impatience for some days, had
gone off into a region said to be full of bara singh; so we decided to
possess our souls in patience for a little time, and remain quietly in
Srinagar. Accordingly, instead of unpacking our "detonating musquetoons,"
we exhumed our evening clothes, and began life in Srinagar with a cheerful
dinner at the Residency.

_Friday, April 7th_.--We are evidently somewhat premature here as far as
climate goes. The weather since our arrival has become cold and grey, and
we have seemed on the verge of another snowfall. However, the clerk of the
weather has refrained from such an insult, contenting himself with sending
a breeze down upon us fresh from the "Roof of the World," and laden with
the chilly moisture of the snows. We have consumed great quantities of
wood, vainly endeavouring to warm up the den which Mr. Nedou has let to us
as a sitting-room. Fires are not the fashion in the public rooms--probably
because the only "public" besides ourselves consist of one or two
enterprising sportsmen, who doubtless are acclimatising themselves to camp
life amid the snows, and have implored the proprietor to