Several notabilities of Islamabad came to pay their salaams, among them a Sikh officer from Peshawur, who went into ecstasies about the place, and concluded by saying, ‘Oh, if the English were possessors of this land, what a paradise it would be!’ The hill which rises in the background is covered with young deodars, which the Maharajah preserves most strictly, and which add very much to the quiet beauty of the scene. In the time of the Emperor Shah-Jehan, when this pleasure-garden was trimly kept, when the cascades were full of water, and everything was cared for, this place must have been unsurpassed in loveliness. The spring of water in this rare old garden is considered the finest in Cashmere, and the water sparkles in its clear purity when poured into a glass. Atchibul only requires careful looking after, for the ground is fertile; peaches, quince, plums, and grapes grow in abundance in its orchards. The day was far spent as we rode away, and as we passed through the curious gate which divides Shah-Jehan’s garden from the outward world we both exclaimed, ‘How often shall we look back with pleasure on our day at Atchibul!’ Our path homewards was the same by which we came in the morning. The shades of night had closed round us before we reached the camp. Our next picnic was to the wonderful ruins of Martund. M’Kay was left in charge of the camp, and we started in the morning towards the village of Bowun, which is about six miles from our ground, on the northern side of what is called in Cashmere a kuraywah, or table-land. These kuraywahs vary in height from three to four hundred feet, and in length from one to five miles. They are divided from each other by wide ravines, through which flow mountain streams. The upper part, which is generally bare and flat, is composed of very rich soil. The scenery is not very grand, and the path skirts along the foot of the kuraywah, on which the temple of Martund is built. In due time we arrived at the sacred spring of Bowun, whose holy waters are received in a large tank full of tame fish. On the one side of this tank is a temple, from which emerged a very holy man, in search of backsheesh. We did not respond to his appeals, but a stout khansama belonging to an English family in Cashmere, seemed a great find; for he had to pay for everything. First he was mulcted of his coin to provide food for the fish, then he had to pay before he was allowed to kneel down to try to embrace a fish, which, as he was stout and rather old, I need not say he did not succeed in doing. I then saw him paying for admittance into the temple, to be blessed by the holy man. The last I saw of him was when he was surrounded by little boys shouting for backsheesh. The limp state of his money-bag, however, showed that he had no more to give.