he
shining river.

We left Baramula in high spirits to accomplish the five-and-thirty miles
which still stretched between us and Srinagar. The scenery was quite
different from anything we had yet known, for now we were in the broad
flat valley of Kashmir, which stretches for some eighty miles from beyond
Islamabad, on the N.E., to Baramula, planted at the neck where the Jhelum
River, after spreading itself abroad through the fertile plain,
concentrates to pour its many waters through the mountain barrier until it
joins the Indus far away in Sind.

A broad and level road stretched straight and white between a double row
of stark poplars, reminding one of the poplar-guarded ways of Picardy;
also (as in France) not only were the miles marked, but also the
thirty-two subdivisions thereof. On the right hand the ground sloped
slowly up in a succession of wooded heights, the foothills of the Pir
Panjal, whose snow-crowned peaks enclose the Kashmir valley on the south.
Opposite, through a maze of leafless trees, one caught occasional gleams
of water where the winding reaches of the river flowed gently from the
turquoise haze where lay the Wular Lake, and beyond--clear and pale in
the clear, crisp air--shone a glorious range of snow mountains, stretching
away past where we knew Srinagar must lie, to be lost in the distant haze
where sky and mountain merged in the north-east.

By the roadside we passed many small lakes, or "jheels," full of duck, but
as there was never any cover by the sides I could not see how the duck
were to be approached.

We lunched at the fascinating little bungalow at Patan (pronounced
"Puttun"), about half-way between Baramula and Srinagar. The Rest House
stands back from an apparently extremely populous and thriving village,
the inhabitants whereof were all engaged in conversation of a highly
animated kind! In the compound stood a fine group of chenar trees
(_Platanus orientalis_) whose noble trunks and graceful branches showed in
striking contrast to the slender stems of the poplars. The guide-book
informed us that an ancient temple lay in ruins near by, but we trusted to
a later visit and determined to push on. By-and-by a fort-crowned hill
rose above the tree-tops. This we took to be Hari Parbat, the ancient
citadel of Srinagar, and presently, through the poplars and the willows
queer wooden huts or chalets began to appear, and the increasing number of
men and beasts upon the road showed the proxi