We made a slight change in our arrangements, rather for the better, by hiring a large boat for ourselves and handing our own over to the servants and culinary department in general.
July 12.—Found ourselves not very far on our road on awakening this morning, the night having been very dark, the current strong against us, and the sailors lazy.
Another cause of delay also, if these were insufficient, was, that the proprietor of the boat dropped his turban overboard, with two rupees in the folds of it, and the old lady his spouse had stopped the fleet for at least an hour to cry over the misfortune. Before breakfast we had a swim, and found ourselves only just able to make way against the stream. Breakfasted on the river bank, under the trees, and surrounded by rocky snow-capped mountains. Reading, scribbling, and eating apricots brought us to about an hour before sunset, when F. and I landed and went ahead to pick out a spot for a dining-room for ourselves. In the search, we passed through [[104]]orchards and gardens innumerable, and finally decided upon a grove of magnificent sycamores on the river bank, where we laid out our table just as the sun went down. Within view was a picturesque old wooden bridge, on the mossy tree-formed piles of which the bushes were growing, as if quite at home, and hanging gracefully over the flowing river.
July 13.—Found ourselves at sunrise at the end of our boat journey, bathed in the river, and started for Islamabad, about half a kos off.
On the bank we found three other travellers encamped, and leaving them fast asleep, we pushed ahead and took possession of the baraduree. This we found a charming little place in a garden, full of ponds of sacred fish, with old [[105]]carved stones scattered about, belonging to the Hindoo mythology. Through one corner of an upper tank a stream of crystal water flowed in from the mountain which rose perpendicularly behind it—the water welling up from below in a constant and abundant stream. Round this corner were some most grotesque stones; and here the sacred fish were assembled in such shoals as to jostle each other almost out of the water; but whether they were attracted by the fresh supply of water or the sacred images covered as they were with votive offerings of milk and rice, flowers, &c., the fish or the Brahmins alone can tell.
Tradition states that an infidel Christian officer once killed three of these fish, and having eaten one of them, died shortly after. Putting their sanctity out of the question, however, the little creatures are so tame and so numerous that few people would be inclined either to kill or to eat them. While feeding them with bread, I could have caught any number with my hand; and holding a piece of tough crust under water, it was amusing to feel them tugging and hauling at it, making occasional snaps at one’s fingers in their efforts. They were generally about half a pound in weight.
Our baraduree was built of wood, in the usual [[106]]style, with latticed windows of various designs, and having one room overhanging the stream which ran through the centre of the house from the sacred tanks. Directly below the place we occupied was a little waterfall, which conversed pleasantly day and night; and by taking-up a loose plank in the floor we could see as well as hear it. Learning that there were some ruins in the neighbourhood, supposed to have existed from before the birth of our Saviour, we started in the afternoon for a place called Bowūn, or more popularly Mutton, about two and a half kos off.
The sun to-day we found very hot in this same valley of coolness, its rays coming down on the backs of our heads in a very searching and inquisitive manner. Along the entire path there were running streams in every direction: and what with these and the magnificent 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 [[107]]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 [[108]]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.[5] 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 of any symbol at all resembling a cross. Many of the huge pillars had been eaten away as if they were of wood, by the combined effects of wind and weather; but hands had also been at work, as pieces of the decorations and figures appeared scattered about in every direction.