KASHMIR VALLEYS 



61 



pigeon-holed away in my memory, for discussion with 

 some Dry-as-dust when no longer able to enjoy the 

 glorious reality, together with such useless argument as 

 to whether the roof was of wood or of stone, and whether 

 earthquake or villainous saltpetre has been the motor 

 power in the terrible destruction and havoc that had 

 torn stone from stone, thrown down whole walls, and 

 left but the shell of what must have been one of the 



At last I stood beside the Temple 



stateliest of the world's shrines. All these things that 

 I had puzzled over beforehand were swept from my 

 mind as I stood on the slope of the karewa, bent upward 

 here to join the hill, sunshine above, sunshine around, 

 the ground mosaiced with grey stones and pink-flushed 

 roses, within sight of overwhelming snow heights, the 

 valley spread out in a vast panorama of green fields and 

 sparkling waters, glistening peaks fringing the blue sky. 



