[CHAPTER XVII.]
CASHMERE.
14th October. Sunday. I did not stir from the bivouac till the afternoon, passing the day reading, in pleasant enjoyment of my sylvan retreat. The coolies returned about 2 P.M., bringing some apples, pears, and grapes—a welcome supply, but the grapes small and flavourless. In the afternoon I rambled some distance downwards to a seat commanding, at the same time, the magnificent prospect of the valley spread out below, and some ravines and dells on either hand likely to contain bara sing. Here I sat long meditating—thinking over the incidents of my excursion, and casting reflections forward on my future route, and arrival below. Nothing was seen or heard. Retracing my steps, it occurred to me from examination of the range of hills I was traversing, that I might hunt the ravine tried yesterday, and descend from thence, while the coolies and traps took the ordinary and easier route. On proposing this, it was cordially welcomed by the two hunters. Buddoo and coolies would make straight for Shalimah Bagh to which a canal ran from the Dal lake. There he was to engage boats, and await our arrival.
15th October. We got away with earliest dawn—again heard the bara sing—again were they seen, and a shot all but obtained as they crossed the ridge as before. The guide was now sent down to drive the other ravine, and we kept along the ridge, and stopped in ambush a long time without seeing anything. Then, giving up, we resumed our downward course, and I had stopped to don another pair of grass sandals, when Mooktoo, looking down into the ravine, signalled game. On joining him, we saw a fine stag standing gazing at the guide who on the same level was trying to turn him up to us. But the provoking animal, as though quite up to the dodge and danger, preferred facing the guide and the stones he hurled to breasting the hill, and diving down took back up the bed of the river. This was the last episode of the chase of the bara sing.
A steep and slippery descent, not accomplished without some half-dozen tumbles, landed us in the bed of a ravine which crossed that we had been hunting at right-angles, and with its brawling torrent debouched on the open cultivated undulations lying over the Dal lake. A path leading through two villages, as usual shaded by fine chunars, brought us to the Shalimah Bagh, a monument of former magnificence and luxury, now neglected and desolate. Some patchwork repairs have been made this year to its buildings by the Maharajah, only enough to check ruin and decay here and there, to which everything here seems rapidly hastening. Following the now empty aqueduct, we reached the canal, and found two boats awaiting us, into one of which I stepped, and gladly extended myself on the soft namba spread for me. The passage from the Shalimah Bagh to my former bungalow occupied about an hour and three-quarters. The Jhelum was now some six or seven feet lower than before, and the stream proportionably moderate. I found all my baggage stowed in the bungalow, and ordered it to be ready for a start on the seventeenth, intending to get off myself, if possible, on the eighteenth.
16th October. After breakfast I took boat, and went first to a shawl merchant's, Mirza Mahomed Shah, and purchased articles for presents to dear ones at home; then to a papier-machè shop. Coming back, I found a card from Captain Tulloh, 21st P.N.I. He left to-day, I understood. But as I was sitting shut up for the night, and reading, I heard sounds as of an arrival, and voices as of a saheb, and sure enough there was Tulloh come to claim shelter, as his jan-pan broke down shortly after starting. We sat long chatting over our mutual excursions.
17th October. Both of us astir early. A merchant employed by Tulloh had brought his own horse to take him to Ramoo, and on my mentioning a difficulty in procuring money, he readily engaged to supply. Tulloh off, I had a talk with the merchant, Samhed Shah, a most respectable-looking and pleasant-mannered man. I agreed to go to his shop after breakfast, and was aggravated into buying a scarf, caps, and black choga—the latter not yet ready. All my baggage left this morning; Murad and party also. Abdoolah and Buddoo only remain with me. Suleiman informed me that the Rajah of Kopalu was here, and had received the Testaments. He would like to see me, but feared the jealousy of the Maharajah.
On my arrival I had been visited by an Affghan to whom I had before given ten rupees. He was, by his own report and that of many testimonials apparently genuine, of great service to our sick and wounded at the time of the Affghan disaster, for which humanity he had to flee his country on the withdrawal of the British troops, and (strange to say) has never been adequately rewarded by our Government, though his case has been brought forward and published. I promised to represent the matter to Sir R. Montgomery, in hopes of something being yet done for his benefit.
18th October. Samhed Shah not appearing by ten o'clock, I took boat and went down the river, and sent a man to his shop from which came a brother or partner and told me that the black choga would not be ready for three or four hours. On representing the delay and uncertainty to Abdoolah, he recommended putting off the start till to-morrow, and fetching Shupyim in one march. I now took leave of my three shikarries who had remained in order to escort me some miles out, but this further delay was too much for them, naturally enough as they had been more than five months absent from their families. I also took leave of the Baboo whose services have been invaluable. He refused any pecuniary reward, and I had difficulty in getting him to name any present from below that would be acceptable to him. After some time I suggested a revolver. This seemed to please him, so having two with my baggage, I engaged to send him one of them, and so we shook hands and parted. He has got a nag for me to take me to Ramoo, from the Maharajah's stud, he says. And now I have parted, I think, on the most friendly terms with my Cashmere allies and retainers.
At length came the long expected choga, just from the dyer's and still moist, so it had to be hung up. And now this busy day draws to a close, and to-morrow I quit this lovely country, so full of natural charms, but through bad government with its vast resources so little developed. Would that it might fall into the hands of the British, without either usurpation or fraud such as we have been in the habit in India of pleasantly designating political necessity!