save his fuel and
keep the outer doors open.

Yesterday, we went on a shopping excursion down the river, our "hansom"
being a long narrow sort of canoe, propelled and dexterously steered by
four or five paddlers, whose mode of _digging_ along by means of their
heart-shaped blades reminded me not a little of the Kroo boys paddling a
fish-canoe off Elmina on the Gold Coast.

We embarked close to the back of the hotel, at the Chenar Bagh, and went
gaily enough down the strong current of what we took to be an affluent of
the Jhelum. As a matter of fact, the European quarter forms an island, low
and perfectly flat, the banks of which are heaped into a high dyke or
"bund," washed on one side (the south) by the main river, and on the other
by the Sunt-i-kul Canal, down which we have been paddling.

The river life was most fascinating--crowds of heavy doungas lay moored
along the banks--their long, low bodies covered in by matting, and their
extremities sloping up into long peaked platforms for the crew.
These--many of them women and children--were all clothed in neutral-tinted
gowns, the only bit of colour being an occasional note of red or white in
the puggaree of the men or skull-cap of the children. The married women
invariably wore whity-brown veils over the head. The wooden houses that
lined the banks were all in the general low scheme of colour, but a
peculiar charm was added by the roofs covered in thick, green turf.

Srinagar has been called the "Venice of the East," and, inasmuch as
waterways form the main thoroughfares in both, there is a certain
resemblance. Shikaras (the Kashmiri canoes) are first-cousins to
gondolas--rather poor relations perhaps; both are dingy and clumsy in
appearance, and both are managed with an extraordinary dexterity by their
navigators.

Both cities are "smelly," though Venice, even at its worst, stands many
degrees above the incredible filth of Srinagar.

Finally--both cities are within sight of snowy ranges; although it seems
hardly fair to place in comparison the majestic range that overhangs
Srinagar and the somewhat distant and sketchy view of the Alps as seen
from Venice.

Here, I think, all resemblance ceases. The charm of Venice lies in its
architecture, its art treasures, its historical memories, and its
interesting people.

Srinagar has no architecture in particular, being but a picturesque chaos
of tumble-down wooden shanties. It has no history worth speaking of, and
it