energy. I found out (with difficulty) that he proposed to go on to Hassan
Abdal with the luggage that night by goods train; that we should find him
there next morning, and that all would be right. So he departed, and we
rolled ourselves up in our "resais," and wondered how it would all turn
out.

On Friday morning we rattled out of Rawal Pindi about seven, and slowly
wound through a rather stony and uninteresting country, until we arrived
at the end of our railway journey about ten o'clock, and scrambled out at
the little roadside station.

Our excellent factotum, Sabz Ali, awaited us with a capacious landau, and
informed us that the heavy baggage had gone on in the ekkas. So we set
forth at once on our 42-mile drive to Abbotabad without "reposing for a
time in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a
favourite resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to
Cashmere" (_Lalla Rookh_).

The landau, though roomy and comfortable, was, like Una's lion, a "most
unhasty beast," and we rolled quite slowly and deliberately over a
distinctly uninteresting plain for about twenty miles, until we came to
Haripur, a pretty village enclosed in a perfect mass of fruit trees in
full bloom.

Here we changed horses, and lunched at the dâk bungalow--a first and
favourable experience of that useful institution. The dâk bungalow
generally consists of a simple wooden building containing a dining-room
and several bedrooms opening on to a verandah, which usually runs round
three sides of the house. The furniture is strong and simple, consisting
of tables, bedsteads, and some long chairs. A khansamah or cook provides