tively reproducing its surroundings upside
down, but occasionally its calm surface is ruffled by a little breeze, and
it is reported that wild and horrible squalls sweep down the nullahs of
Haramok at times, and destroy the unwary. These squalls are said to be
most frequent in the afternoons, and are probably the accompaniments of
the thunderstorms.

It is only considered possible to cross the Wular between dawn and 10 or
11 A.M., and no persuasion will prevail upon a native boatman to risk his
life on the lake after lunch.

Before turning in, I gave orders that a start should be made next morning
at five o'clock, but a heavy squall of rain and thunder during the night
had the effect of causing orders to be set at naught, and at
breakfast-time there was no sign of "up anchor" nor even of "heaving
short." An interview with the Admiral showed me that the Wular, in his
opinion, was too dangerous to cross to-day--in fact he wouldn't dream of
asking coolies to risk it. He was given to understand that we intended to
cross, and that the sooner he started the safer it would be.

No coolies being forthcoming, I inhumanly gave orders to get under
way--the available crew consisting of the wicked Satarah, the first
lieutenant, and the Lady Jiggry. Sulkily and slowly we wended our way past
the wide flats which border the Wular, all blazing golden with mustard in
full pungent flower.

Before entering the lake the Admiral meekly requested to be allowed to try
for coolies in a small village near by. He was allowed quarter of an hour
for pressgang work, and sure enough he came back within a very reasonable
time with a few spare hands, and then--paddling and poling for dear
life--we glided swiftly through the tangled lily-pads and the green
rosettes of the Singhara, and soon were _in medias res_ and fairly
committed to the deep.

The Wular lay like a burnished mirror, reflecting the buttresses of
Haramok on our right, and the snowy ranges by the Tragbal ahead, its
silvery surface lined here and there with the wavering tracks of other
boats, or broken by bristling clumps of reeds and tall water-plants. Our
transit was perfectly peaceful, and by lunch-time we were safely tied up
to a bank, purple with irises, just below Bandipur.

A visit to the post-office and a stroll up the rocky hill behind it, where
we sat for some time and watched a pair of jackals sneaking about,
completed a peaceful afternoon.

_May_ 3.--We were up with the