14 AFOOT THROUGH THE 



A land of clear colours and stories, 

 In a region of shadowless hours ; 



Where eartli has a garment of glories, 

 And a murmur of music and flowers ; 



In woods where the spring half uncovers 

 The flush of her amorous face. 



Swinburne. 



Of dak bungalows and doongas A coachman without a soul 

 And a boatman with imagination Music on the water 

 Housekeeping details and female fashions. 



BARAMULA, of blessed memory ! What a perfect haven 

 of rest did that long, low dak bungalow appear to me. 

 Still voiceless, aching from the chill of the previous day, 

 and with sufficient fever to make me feel my head a 

 curiously uncertain factor, the uncompromising white- 

 washed walls of my room were strangely inviting. It 

 was clean; it was dry; best of all, it was warm, for 

 a pleasant wood fire was soon kindled on the hearth, 

 and a big bowl of soup having banished my vague 

 feelings of emptiness, resulting from my long fast since 

 the early cup of tea, I prepared to sleep soundly. 

 Next morning, when the sun streamed in, a new 

 woman rose up, inaudible but otherwise sound 



