flew by much too fast, and it was with great reluctance that we finally
turned our back on the finest part of the Lidar Valley, and sadly resumed
our march to Sellar, crossing the river and following a rather hot and
dull road. Sellar itself is not nearly as pretty as Eshmakam, and we grew
rather tired of it by evening, as we arrived soon after one o'clock, and
found little to do or see.

Yesterday we left Sellar and marched to Bejbehara, the hottest and dullest
march I know of in Kashmir. A shadeless road slopes gently down across the
plains to the river. All along this road we overtook parties of coolies
laden with creels of silk cocoons, whose destination is the big silk
factory at Srinagar, small clouds of hot red dust rising into the still
air, knocked up by the shuffling tread of their grass-shod feet.

In the fields, dry and burnt to our eyes after the green valleys, squatted
the reapers, snipping the sparse ears, apparently one by one, with sickles
like penknives. They seemed to get the work done somehow, as little sheafs
laid in rows bore witness; but the patience of Job must have been upon
them!

The chenars of Bejbehara threw a most welcome shade from the noonday sun,
which was striking down with evil force as we panted across the steamy
rice-fields which surround them.

Hither we came at noon, only to find that our boats were not awaiting us
as we had directed. A messenger bearing bitter words was promptly
despatched to root the lazy scoundrels out from Islamabad, while Jane and
I camped out beneath a huge tree and lunched, worked, and sketched until
four o'clock, when the Admiral brought the fleet in and fondly deemed his
day's work done.

This was by no means our view of the case, and the usual trouble
began--"No coolies"--"Very late"--"Plenty tired," &c. &c.

Of course Satarah was defeated, and was soon to be seen sulkily poling
away in the stern-sheets, while his son-in-law still more sulkily paddled
in the bow.

We made about eight or ten miles, having a swift current under us, before
a strong squall came up the valley, making the old ark slue about
prodigiously, and inducing us to tie up for the night.

This morning we slipped down stream to Srinagar, only halting for a short
while to obtain some of the native bread for which Pampur is celebrated.

The river seemed exceedingly hot and stuffy after the lovely air which we
have been breathing lately, and we quite determined that the sooner we g