Yet why should we laugh at this poor Hindoo. It was faith that carried him on, faith as powerful as that which inspires the pilgrims of Russia to leave their homes, and crowd the Church of the Sepulchre at Jerusalem, and the same faith as that which caused the martyrs of old to smile as the fire was lit to consume their bodies. Magnificent old chenars are near the sacred spring. There were so many faqueers here that we determined not to halt, as these gentlemen are not particular about wearing any clothes, and despise soap and water. We declined all offers of a guide, for our ancient tickedar had provided us with a coolie who knew the road. So we turned our backs on Bowun, fully convinced that Nature was most bountiful to this beautiful land, but that man ruined it by extortion and folly. We proceeded by a very steep path to the top of the kuraywah, on which are the ruins of Martund. The view was fine. In the far distance we saw the woods of Atchibul on one side, and in front the green entrance to Kunbul. Martund is a wonderful place. Vigne says in his ‘Travels in Cashmere,’ ‘As an isolated ruin, this deserves, on account of its solitary and massive grandeur, to be ranked, not only as the first ruin of the kind in Cashmere, but as one of the noblest among the architectural relics of antiquity that are to be seen in any country.’ And what did we see? We went out on a calm summer evening on a rocky coast, where Nature had cast about in endless confusion great rocks of ponderous size; that is what we seemed to see, but these massive blocks of stone and masonry, tumbled about in magnificent disorder, once on a time formed walls surrounding the temple. The temple still stands, in spite of the loss of its surroundings, which have succumbed to the gales and storms of ages. It rears its noble front in proud grandeur and disdain of overwhelming and destructive time. We entered this ancient edifice through a gateway. It seemed to us to be built on a cruciform plan. The aisle was there, and, towards the east, the altar recess, while at each corner the cross was completed by projecting spaces like chapels. On the walls of stone were strange figures cut, but the roof in most parts had failed, and the blue sky formed the canopy overhead. There was something pathetic in finding ourselves alone in this monument of by-gone days. Those who once worshipped in this very grand building must have been some of the great ones of the world, and now their very existence is unknown. The knowledge of who they were is but dimly seen through the ages of the past. Were it not for these grand mementoes which outlived the memory of those who worshipped in them, who now would think of them?