outside in the shade and lie there smoking my pipe and thinking. I have spoken of the beauties and pleasures of the Solab, but I must not omit mention of its annoyances, flies and mosquitoes, by day the flies abound and cause much irritation to any exposed part of the body. I do hate tame flies, flies that though driven away twenty times elude capture, and will pertinaciously return to the same spot—say your nose—until one is driven nearly mad with vexation. At dusk the flies return to roost, and then myriads of mosquitoes emerge from their hiding places, and make night hideous with their monotonous hum and blood-thirsty propensities. I do not find chepatties so bad as I expected, indeed I rather like them, but then my boy makes them excellently well, using soda in their composition. The process of manufacture is not pleasant—the flour is made into a paste, and then flattened and consolidated by being thrown backwards and forwards from one hand to the other, though one may avoid seeing this, it is difficult to escape hearing the pit-pat of the soft dough as it passes rapidly between the Khitmutgars extended, and I fear not always clean fingers, it is then toasted, brought in hot, and you may eat it dirt and all. But travellers must not be too particular, and so long as your food is wholesome, eat and be thankful. But here comes my dinner, with the chepatties I have just seen prepared, and which sight suggested the foregoing lines. Chicken for breakfast, chicken for dinner, chicken yesterday, chicken to-morrow, toujours chicken, sometimes curried, sometimes roasted, torn asunder and made into soup, stew or cutlets, or with extended wing forming the elegant spatchcock, it is still chicken; the greatest and rarest change being that it is occasionally rather tender. I have had chicken soup and roast fowl for dinner, the chicken in the soup as stringy as hemp, the fowl as tough as my sandal, and with so large a liver that I doubted whether the bird had not met with a violent death. I like fowl's liver, it is my one bonne bouche during the day, but these startled me, and after straining my teeth on the carcase, I gladly swallow the soft mouthful. Oh! English readers, you who have never wandered far from your native shores and who esteem chickens a luxury to put on your supper table at your festive gatherings, come to India and surfeit on your dainties, you will see it calmly collecting its daily food unsuspicious of danger, then comes the rush and loud clacking as it flies pursued by the ferocious native, ending with cries of despair and the fluttering and hoarse gurgle of its death throes, in half an hour Murghi will be placed before you hot and tempting to the eye but hard as nails to the touch; they are cheap in this part of the world. I pay one anna (or three halfpence) for a chicken, or two annas for a full grown fowl.

JULY 22nd.—A little march of three miles to Koopwaddie. I am glad I came here for one or two reasons. In the first place the walk afforded me a nearer and finer view of the head of the valley, surmounted by its high and rugged snow peaks; and secondly, I find I can return from here to Sopoor in two marches instead of going back over the old road. From Sopoor I shall boat to Alsoo. The range which at Lalpore was on the further side of the valley has gradually approached the other hills until now they are only a quarter of a mile apart, and are connected by short low spurs which I crossed this morning. My road to-morrow will be behind the first mentioned range, where another portion of the valley lies. The valley is in fact fork-shaped, intersected by a mountainous ridge which runs from its lower end for about fifteen miles. The two portions then unite and form one valley up to the snows, and Koopwaddie is situated at their junction. The Solab proper is only the eastern arm which is formed into a cul de sac by the mountains, and in which Lalpore stands.

JULY 23rd.—To Chargle ten miles down the western fork of a valley rough and uncultivated by comparison with the Solab. Over a low range of hills with a very steep descent to Chargle standing on the left bank of the Pohroo river. Not finding a good place on that side I forded the river, which is not more than two feet deep, and encamped on smooth green sward under a walnut tope on the other bank. Fine view from the top of the hill of the level valley through which the Pohroo runs, with the broad Jhelum shining like silver in the distance. This plain is laid out in open fields, and lacks trees except round the numerous villages. The surrounding hills too are comparatively bare, and their summits are to-day obscured by the low-lying clouds.

JULY 24th.—A hot and uncomfortable walk of twelve miles on the exposed and uninteresting road to Sopoor. There were but few trees to afford any shade, but there were mulberries bearing ripe fruit, under which you know it is impossible to sit down. From Sopoor to Alsoo (sixteen miles) by boat, slowly driving all day through the tangled weeds and water lilies. At Soopoor I waited for my boy to get what he wanted for my breakfast (which he would prepare on board) and while waiting, a procession of natives came with bells and flags, and something surrounded by curtains and carried under a canopy, but I could not see what it was. It was being fanned vigorously by several men and was no doubt very holy. A large number of men (Mahometans) followed, shouting loudly when the bells were rung, and some of them chanted a slow but not unpleasing melody. They were praying for rain which is rare in this country, and which is now required for the crops. My boy returned bringing with him to my joy a fore quarter of mutton. Stopped at Shukuroodeen for the evening, the wind being too strong to proceed. Those flat bottomed boats with their large heavy awnings are very cranky.

JULY 25th.—Started early for Alsoo. Found my old boat where I had left it, but brought my baggage on board of this one, which I mean to keep to, as the boatman is a much more useful fellow than the other man. He acts as a servant, knows all the places I am going to, including Ummernath, and has many excellent characters from those who have employed him. There was such a scene when my intentions were made known to the other crew, at first with tears and folded hands they supplicated, but when that proved useless they took to cursing and gesticulating, which they continued as their boat moved away and so long as they were within hearing, screaming across the water, making faces, and shaking their fists aloft; the old man was especially violent, it was very laughable. My present crew consists of the man I have mentioned, three good looking young woman, one of whom has the hooping cough, and a variety of children I have not yet made out the different relations to each other. There was lightning and some heavy rain last night (the result no doubt of yesterday's ceremony) and the sky is still gloomy and overcast. On from Alsoo after Chota Hazree or first breakfast to Lunka, a small island, which is only fifty yards square, is thickly covered with pine trees, with trailing grape vines clinging around their boughs, on it stands an old ruin, and fallen pillars and carved stones litter the ground. From a distance it looked very lovely, floating as it were on the bosom of the open waters, but as we neared it an unpleasant odour became perceptible, rapidly increasing to a horrid stench. This proceeded from a colony of natives who were in temporary habitation of the island, and were engaged in catching and drying the fish with which the lake abounds. I landed however, but was soon forced to beat a rapid retreat. Such a mass of all kinds of filth crowded in so small a space, I have never before witnessed. Man is ever the plague spot of the world, where he is not, all is peace, and beauty, with his presence comes contamination and discord. Saw many a whistling seal in one part of the lake. The water soon became contracted into a narrow channel, with a low bank on either side, after travelling a few miles more we reached the broad Jhelum above