h against the stream which
boiled past. An appalling uproar was caused by the coolies and the
unemployed upon the bridge, who all, as usual, gave unlimited advice to
every one else as to the proper management of affairs under the existing
circumstances, but did nothing whatever in support of their theories. The
situation was becoming quite interesting, and the "mem-sahib" and I,
sitting on the roof of our boat, were speculating as to what would happen
next when the Gordian knot was cut by the unexpected energy and courage of
the first-lieutenant, who boldly slapped an argumentative coolie in the
face, while the admiral dashed promiscuously into the shikara,
and--yelling "Hard-a-starboard!--Full speed ahead!--Sit on the
safety--valve!"--boldly shot into an overhanging mulberry tree, wherein
our tow-rope was much entangled. The rope was cleared, the crew poled
like fury, the coolies hauled for all they were worth, every one yelled
himself hoarse, and we forged ahead. We crashed under the mulberry tree,
which swept us from stem to stern, nearly carrying the hen-coop overboard;
while Jane and I lay flat under a perfect hail of squashy black fruit
which covered the upper deck.

We went on shore for a moonlight stroll after dinner. The place was like a
glorified English park; chenars of the first magnitude, taking the place
of oaks, rose from the short crisp turf, while a band of stately poplars
stood sentry on the river bank. Through blackest shadow and over patches
of moonlit sward we rambled till we came upon the ruins of a temple, of
which little was left but a crumbled heap of masonry in the middle of a
rectangular grassy hollow which had evidently been a tank, small detached
mounds, showing where the piers of a little bridge had stood, giving
access to the building from the bank. An avenue of chenars led straight to
the bridge, showing either the antiquity of the trees or the comparatively
modern date of the temple.

_June 19_.--Yesterday afternoon we left Bejbehara, and went on to Kanbal,
the port of Islamabad. A hot and sultry day, oppressive and enervating to
all but the flies, which were remarkably energetic and lively. The river
below Islamabad is quite narrow, and hemmed in between high mudbanks.

Here we found the "Baltic Fleet," but, knowing that our fugitive friends
must have already reached Atchibal, we held to our intention of going up
the Lidar.

Having tied up to a remarkably smelly bank, which was just