a rather violent controversy between my Bheistie and boatman. The
boatman stoutly maintained his opinion of its value and the Bheistie
with a more correct appreciation, and while explaining to me that it
was a jungle bird and would never sing, appeared to look upon my conduct
with a mixture of compassion and disgust, and then they quarrelled over
it. Was my fancy a foolish one? Some men will spend years in the pursuit
and classification of butterflies, while others go into ecstasy over a
farthing of the reign of Queen Anne. My common jungle bird was a pretty
one, and if I had got it home and put it in a gilt cage, it would surely
have possessed some value for its antecedents, even if it had proved as
mute as a fish, or as discordant as a Hindoo festival.


AUGUST 21st.--Marched back to Kunbul, seven miles, and took up my
quarters again on board the boat, fifteen or twenty other boats are
here, a good many visitors having recently arrived in this part of
Kashmir. I remained at Kunbul all day waiting for the completion of a
pair of chuplus which I ordered of a shoemaker ten days ago. I have
occupied the time by reading Marryat's "Newton Forster" (one of Hewson's
gifts) and I find that when I read I can't write, so that must be my
excuse for the shortness of my notes. My head is full of ships, sea
fights, and love making to the exclusion of everything else. I heard
you--you said it was a good job, as it prevented me writing more
nonsense.


AUGUST 22nd.--Slowly drifting all day down the stream towards
Sreenuggur. Past Bijbehara with its fine bridge, stopping there a short
time to procure milk and eggs for breakfast. Past Awuntipoor--the former
capital--but now only a very small village, where stands on the rivers