We passed some ancient temples, which seemed in their ruin to mark the difference between the rotten buildings of the present day and the massive architecture of a gone-by age. We glanced for a moment at splendid marble cause-ways, hanging over hideous wooden bathing-places, and dwellings erected on wooden piles close to gardens full of fruit and flowers. As we struggled up the stream, and with difficulty got under and past the wooden bridges which span the river, boats like our own, but not so large, shot by us. In some were reclining the English sahib, exploring. In others, larger and more crowded, were soldiers, country people, and busylooking men. On each side of this centre thoroughfare of the town were men and boys swimming and bathing. Not a house but had a wooden bathing-place, and these were always full of splashing human beings, while crowding the banks were female figures washing clothes and children alternately. We swept past the Maharajah’s palace, the golden roof of its temple being the only attraction there. Leaving the last bridge, called Ameeri Kudal, we came to a wider part of the river, and the place where the visitors’ bungalows are situated opened out. It was a pleasant sight, the calm and placid Jhellum, on the right bank of which were grand chenars--the Oriental plane--overshadowing the curious little houses built for the accommodation of the Maharajah’s British guests. As we toiled on, a swift and smart-looking gondola drew up alongside, and the Baboo welcomed us in the name of His Highness the Maharajah of Cashmere. Baboo Mohas Chander was a courteous, smiling man. When he spoke, his white teeth sparkled in the sunlight, but, when he ceased to address us, a sudden darkness seemed to overspread his face, all because the Baboo had shut his mouth. He informed us our house was ready, and we found him always civil and attentive. Ah, me! what a house! Our future domicile was like a square box divided in the centre, the division being the floor of the upper story. Up a rickety stair we ascended to our three rooms. The windows had no glass, but had diamond-cut shutters, the peculiarity of which was that, when tampered with, they invariably fell on the toes of the unwary. However, we were delighted with our apartments. Hearing the sound of riders passing by, we rushed to the window; the effect of which energetic movement was to make everything in the room dance, as the floor was very elastic.