VISIT TO ISLAMABAD--AVANTIPORE--KUNBUL--PITCHING OUR CAMP--TRAVELLING CAMP FASHION--PALACE OF SIRKARI BAGH--ANUT NAG, THE SACRED SPRING--SHAWL MANUFACTORY--VISIT TO THE GARDEN AT ATCHIBUL--IRISH ACUTENESS--PLEASURE GARDEN--PICNIC IN THE RUINS OF MARTUND--SACRED SPRING OF THE BOWUN--A PUNDIT EAGER FOR BACKSHEESH--EXPEDITION TO THE LOLAB--REVIEW OF THE MAHARAJAH’S TROOPS. CHAPTER XIII. The Khansama having announced that his part of the preparations for a fresh start were complete, after dinner on a fine summer’s evening, our squadron of boats left Srinagur. We had decided on paying a visit to Islamabad. Our crew, as usual composed of a whole family, towed our big boat up the winding river. Had we gone by land with the horses, we should in an hour have done what it took us by boat much longer to accomplish, the river twists and winds in such a tortuous manner. This is the part of the Jhellum that we looked on from the heights of Tukht Suliman, and whose serpented bends gave the idea for the well-known pattern on Cashmere shawls. At night, as usual, we halted, and in the early morning continued our voyage, towed against the stream. We passed the day in a truly lazy manner, enjoying the balmy breeze as we glided noiselessly along, all Nature basking in soft repose. We passed green woods and rocky eminences, every now and then sighting the road. We got fresh fish from men who had merely to take the trouble of casting a net and hauling up lots of one-pounders. We came to a picturesque ruined village, all in decay, once the capital town of Cashmere, named Avantipore, after King Avante Verna. We passed under a fine old wood bridge at Bajahara, and floated past ruined mosques and gardens--for once upon a time it was a place of vast repute. On the second day, in the afternoon, we arrived at Kunbul. There was more than usual fuss at that landing-place, for a great English lord was about to embark for Srinagur, and all honour was to be shown to him, by order of the Maharajah. Owing to this redoubtable party, we had some difficulty in getting coolies, and the ‘Gascon captain’ had to twirl his moustaches and look very fierce before we could get our proper number. My wife and I walked on in the cool evening hour. Our road was along the banks of a stream hid by flowering shrubs and long grass. The fields looked well cultivated and green.