required, but really the cold spring water is
"delicate to drink" without spirituous accompaniment.

Hunger appeased, the beauty of the surrounding scenery becomes intensified
when seen through the balmy veil of smoke caused by the consumption of a
mild cheroot, and peace and contentment reign while we feed the sprightly
crows with chicken bones and bits of cheese rind.

Shall we ever forget--Jane and I--that simple feast on the Nagmarg?

The sloping snow melting into little rills which trickled through the
fresh-springing flower-strewn grass; the extraordinary blue of the
hillsides overlooking the Lolab Valley seen through the sloping boughs of
the pines; the crows hopping audaciously around or croaking on a dried
branch just above our heads; and above all, the glorious sense of freedom,
of aloofness from all disturbing elements, of utter and irresponsible
independence in a lovely land unspoiled by hand of man?

The afternoon sun smote us full in the face as we descended the bare and
not too smooth path that led into the valley, and we were right glad to
reach the shade of a grove of deodars that covered the lower slopes of the
hill. The Lolab Valley, into which we had now penetrated, is a rich and
picturesque expanse of level plain, some fifteen miles long by three or
four broad, apparently completely surrounded by a densely-wooded curtain
of mountains, rising to an elevation of some 3000 feet above the valley on
the south and west, but ranging on the other sides up into the lofty
summits which bar the route into Gurais and the Tilail. The mountain chain
is not really continuous, the river Pohru, which drains the valley,
finding outlet to the west e'er it bends sharply to the south and enters
the Wular near Sopor.

Perhaps the most noticeable objects in the Lolab are the walnut trees;
they are now just coming into full leaf, and their great trunks, hoary
with age and softly velveted with dark green moss, form the noble columns
of many a lovely camping-ground. We pitched our tents at Lalpura in a
grove of giants, the majesty of which formed an exquisite contrast to the
white foam of a cluster of apple trees in bloom.

It has been so hot to-day that we have stayed quietly in camp, reading,
sketching, and enjoying the _dolce far niente_ of an idle life.

_Sunday, May_ 14.--On Thursday we left Lalpura and marched to Kulgam, a
short distance of some eight or ten miles. Mr. Blunt, the forest
officer,[1] had most kindl