sycamores and walnut-trees which shaded us as we walked, our opinions
of the beauty of the country got a considerable rise. The path from
the Peer Punjal Pass by which we entered appears to be the worst
point of view from which to see the valley. From either the Peshawur
or Murree roads the effect is much finer; and from the north-east,
from which direction it is perhaps seldomer seen than any other, it
looks greener and more beautiful than from either of the other points.

At Mutton we found our three lazy friends of the morning, encamped
under the trees reading green railway-novels, and evidently very much
puzzled how to kill time. Beyond a tank teeming with sacred fishes,
there appeared nothing whatever to be seen here. Taking warning
from this, we thought it not worth while proceeding to Bamazoo,
where we were told there were caves; but, treating the fishes to a
small coin's worth of Indian maize, we retraced our steps and diverged
about a kos off the Islamabad road to Pandau. Here we were rewarded by
coming suddenly upon a magnificent old Cyclopeian ruin of grey stone,
bearing, from a little distance, the appearance rather of an ancient
Christian Church -- such as may be seen occasionally in Ireland --
than of a heathen place of worship. On entering, we found a number of
ancient carvings on the massive stone walls, but they were much worn,
and the designs to us were unintelligible. Some of them were like
the Hindoo divinities, while others were more like Christian devices,
such as cherubims, &c. Altogether, it puzzled us completely as to its
origin; but there was no doubt whatever as to its having existed from
an extremely ancient date; and from its general style, as well as the
absence of any similitude to any other place of heathen worship we have
met, we set it down in our own minds as most probably a temple to the
Sun.[10] Most of the figures, as far as their worn state would allow
one to judge, appeared to be female; and there was an entire absence