he Lidar Valley,
while they retraced their way to Srinagar.

The most popular bachelor in Kashmir was appointed commodore, and deputed
to set the pace and arrange rendezvous. He began by sending on his big
house-boat, dragged by many coolies, to Pampur, a distance of some ten
miles by water, and, following himself on horseback by road, instituted a
sort of "Devil take the hindmost" race, for which we were not prepared.

On reaching Pampur we heard that the "Baltic Fleet" had sailed for
Avantipura, so we followed on; but, alas! having made a forced march to
this latter place, we found that Rodjestvenski Phelps had again escaped us
and "gone before."

We consigned him and the elusive "chota resident," who was in command of
the rest of the party, to perdition, and decided to pursue the even tenor
of our way to the Lidar Valley.

The upper reaches of the Jhelum tire not wildly or excitingly lovely. The
narrowed waters, like sweet Thames, run softly between quiet British banks,
willow veiled. The wide level flats of the lower river give place to low
sloping hills or "karewas," which fall in terraced undulations from the
foothills of the higher ranges which close in the eastern extremity of the
Kashmir Valley.

It was well into the evening, and the sun had just set, throwing a
glorious rosy flush over the snows which surround the Lidar Valley, when
we came to the picturesque bridge which crosses the stream at Bejbehara.

The scene here was charming--a grand festa or religious tamasha being
toward; the whole river was swarming with boats--great doungas, with their
festive crews yelling a monotonous chant, paddled uproariously by. Light
shikaras darted in and out, making up for want of volume in their song by
the piercing shrillness of their utterances. The banks and bridge teemed
with swarming life, and all Kashmir seemed to have contributed its
noisiest members to the revel.

Beyond the bridge we could see through the gathering dusk many house-boats
of the sahibs clustering under a group of magnificent chenars, over whose
dark masses the moon was just rising, full orbed. The piers of the bridge
seemed to be set in foliage, large willows having grown up from their
bases, giving a most curious effect. We marked with some apprehension the
swiftness of the oily current which came swirling round the piers, and
soon we found ourselves stuck fast about half-way under the bridge,
apparently unable to force our boat another inc