Poor M’Kay was always anxious to give pleasure to anyone, so she said, in her pleasant Scotch voice,
‘Oh yes, sir; that’s your bungalow at Murree.’
Alas for my fine sketch of the Cashmere mountains!
Time fled very pleasantly in our gipsy encampment. The scene was occasionally varied by the presence of the Maharajah as he went past in his gilded barge, followed by his courtiers in large and picturesque boats. Sometimes we paid visits to the gardens of Shalimar, and rested during the heat of the day in Nourmahal’s Pavilion. This pavilion is built of marble, and the pillars which support it are of black marble. It is in the centre of a reservoir of clear water, and there are one hundred and forty-four large fountains springing from it.
‘Th’ Imperial Selim held a feast
In his magnificent Shalimar:
In whose saloons, when first the star
Of evening o’er the waters trembled,
The valley’s loveliest all assembled;
All the bright creatures that, like dreams,