“King Shiribadatt was then sitting in his castle; near him his treacherous daughter, who was so soon to lose her parent. All at once he exclaimed, ‘I feel very close; go out, dearest, and see what has happened.’ The girl went out, and saw torches approaching from a distance; but fancying it to be something connected with the plans of her husband, she went back, and said it was nothing. The torches came nearer and nearer, and the tyrant became exceedingly restless. ‘Air, air,’ he cried, ‘I feel very, very ill; do see, daughter, what is the matter.’ The dutiful lady went, and returned with the same answer as before. At last, the torch-bearers had fairly surrounded the fort, and Shiribadatt, with a presentiment of impending danger, rushed out of the room, saying ‘that he felt he was dying.’ He then ran to the stables and mounted his favourite charger, and with one blow of the whip made him jump over the wall of the castle. Faithful to its habit, the noble animal alighted at the same place, but alas! only to find itself engulfed in a treacherous pit. Before the king had time to extricate himself, the villagers had run up with their torches. ‘Throw them upon him,’ cried Azru. With one accord all the blazing wood was thrown upon Shiribadatt, who miserably perished. Azru was then most enthusiastically proclaimed king, celebrated his nuptials with the fair traitor, _and, as sole tribute, exacted the offering of one sheep, instead of that of a human child, annually from every one of the natives_.[13] This custom has prevailed down to the present day, and the people of Shin, wherever they be, celebrate their delivery from the rule of a monster, and the inauguration of a more humane government, in the month preceding the beginning of winter—a month which they call Dawakió or Daykió—after the full moon is over and the new moon has set in. The day of this national celebration is called ‘nôs tshilí,’ ‘the feast of firs.’ The day generally follows four or five days after the meat provision for the winter has been laid in to dry. A few days of rejoicing precede the special festivity, which takes place at night. Then all the men of the villages go forth, having torches in their hands, which, at the sound of music, they swing round their heads, and throw in the direction of Gilgit, if they are at any distance from that place; whilst the people of Gilgit throw them indifferently about the plain in which that town, if town it may be called, is situated. When the throwing away of the brands is over, every man returns to his house, where a curious custom is observed. He finds the door locked. The wife then asks: ‘Where have you been all night? I won’t let you come in now.’ Then her husband entreats her and says, ‘I have brought you property, and children, and happiness, and everything you desire.’ Then, after some further parley, the door is opened, and the husband walks in. He is, however, stopped by a beam which goes across the room, whilst all the