With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

For two or three miles our road continued ascending through pine forests, but at length, like

‘Lord Lovel’s brier-er-r,

It couldn’t get high-er-r,’

so we began the short descent to the Vale of Gulmurg. Gulmurg means the ‘meadow of flowers,’ and in few places in the world except Cashmere could such a pleasant spot be found.

The long, narrow green valley, on whose sweet grass many mares and foals were grazing, is traversed by a clear stream of pure water. On each side of the valley are high broad banks, on which grow lofty deodars. On one side the bank goes up, still covered with pines, till it joins the hill behind it, and then it rises upward and upward till it reaches the line where the snow always lies. In snug nooks above the valley were to be found various tents.

Gulmurg is the most favourite resort for the less adventurous visitors to Cashmere. It was a pretty sight, for the encampments were many, and each one had some decoration, either of arbours or flags, to enliven the scene.

We had some difficulty in finding a good camping-ground, for a rather large terrace was required, not only for our own accommodation, but also for our retainers and the ponies. At last we were satisfied. For some time we had ample occupation in arranging our gipsy camp. Our tents were cosily pitched beneath some giant deodars, more than sixty feet high. It occurred to the syces, both good men, whom I had had in my service for long, that the ponies might be led down the valley to enjoy a good feed of grass. It was an unlucky thought, for no sooner did the nags find themselves in the neighbourhood of the mares than, casting decorum to the winds, they squealed, and kicked, and pranced most gallantly. The men held on to their charges as long as they could, but at last I saw the discomfited grooms prostrate on the ground, and our excited horses tearing away after the long-tailed denizens of the valley. It was next day before they were recovered. By many a bite and cut, we saw that their advances had not been too well received.

When night came, the scene was very picturesque. The large fires, always lit, near every camp reminded me of old campaigning days. We had our huge log fire, and the moon rose soft and silvery from behind the dark woods, a bright gleam occasionally piercing the gloomy darkness of the thick forest, which loomed grandly between us and the cloudless sky. It is like a dream recalling these pleasant hours, for the inevitable discomforts are all forgotten, and memory reproduces the bright side alone.

One of our favourite excursions was to the end of the valley by which we had come in, and then into the woods, along a narrow path through lordly pines, to an open vista made by the Resident. The view was very beautiful; the far-off mountains were often hid in mist, but sometimes at sundown the lofty Hurra-Mukh showed his snowy head, and the clouds faded away like a veil lifted from his god-like brow. Then the magnificent ice-clad giant, flushed in the rosy sunset glow, quickly shrouded himself again in a covering of impenetrable clouds. Beneath us was the green plain, through which the broad Jhellum shone like a band of silver, and the Walloor Lake seemed but very small indeed. Villages were dotted here and there. In the far distance a gleam of light showed Srinagur’s Fort and the golden-roofed palace glistening in the sun’s departing rays.

Our constant companion was a large Thibetian dog—poor fellow, he always kept at a respectful distance, but followed us on all occasions, fascinated by our lady pack of canine charmers. He appeared to have no master, and we were told that he was the self-constituted guardian of the mares, which graze everywhere at Gulmurg, against the wild beasts that prowl down from the heights above. We liked the shaggy old dog, which never came too near; but one day we missed him, and were told that this honest old watch had been shot, so his troubles were over.