to know that the remaining two marches will be, in the words of my
Coolies over "uch'-cha rasta," a good road. It remained cloudy and
threatening the greater part of the way, and a little rain fell, but
eventually the sun shone, though great masses of "cumuli" continue to
hang about. This is a small village completely shut in by three huge
hills standing very close together. Between the sides of the two in
front, the summit of a fourth is visible, a magnificent towering
mountain, covered with a dense pine forest. I have not seen the snows
since I crossed the Doobbullee pass, as we have been ascending the
valley of the Jhelum ever since, and the view is confined by its lofty
sides. I have eaten my last loaf for breakfast this morning, and now one
of the greatest privations of the journey will begin. No bread, nothing
but flour and water made into a kind of pancake, which the natives call
"chepattie." I have not tasted fresh meat since I left Abbottabad, but
that one can do very well without. I live upon fowls, eggs, milk, butter
and rice, with a tongue or hump, cooked when necessary. Two or three
miles from Kuthai, we passed a very pretty waterfall. The slender stream
fell over a smooth perpendicular rock, of a rich brown colour, 100 feet
high, like a thread of silver. Both sides of the gorge covered with a
variety of beautifully green trees, shrubs and ferns, altogether
constituting a delightful picture, the tints mingled so harmoniously,
yet with strong contrasts. Stopped at the Barahduree as usual, this one
surrounded with wild fig, plum, peach, pomegranate, and mulberry trees.
The mulberries only ripe, and like all wild fruit, small and
comparatively tasteless.


JULY 15th.--Started as soon as it was light for Gingle, fourteen miles
distant. Road greatly improved, hilly of course, but tolerably smooth so
that one could get on without clambering. About half way passed Dorie on