14S AFOOT THROUGH THE 



pected arrival and fled down in flashes of orange and 

 blue and purple. These I soon divined to be kingfishers 

 and golden orioles fleeing to the refuge of the sombre 

 old ruins that served as background to the gorgeous 

 picture. 



The " Peri Mahal " (fairies' palace) has stood 

 for centuries, weather-worn and sad, alone, untenanted, 

 unless the Kashmiris are right and the Peris 

 have it in possession. If it is so, they have 

 chosen well, for even fairies can desire naught 

 better than a beautiful house in beautiful surroundings, 

 a fair prospect in front, perfect flowers behind, blue sky, 

 and good air! Designed for some palace of love it 

 appears to be, not for the prosaic needs of an astrono- 

 mical institution, as the savants declare it to have been 

 in the sixteenth century by Sufi Mahomedans. 



The difficulties of the descent were not even then 

 all surmounted, and I managed to entangle myself in 

 an almost impenetrable thicket of roses and shrubs, and 

 only struggled through that to find below a thick hedge 

 and a fairly wide stream. " Go round," " turn back," 

 " no path," shouted some workmen, but one does not 

 turn back after coming so far, and I began pushing my 

 way through the thorny barrier. My position awoke 

 the chivalry of an old weather-beaten fellow labouring 

 in the fields, and he came across to show me the best 

 place to break through. " Come from the Peri Palace ? " 

 he questioned. ' Yes, and from far beyond," I answered, 

 " from right over there over the hill- top, the great 

 Zebanwan." When I was young I have done that 

 many a time," he replied, " but now," and he laughed 

 the curious little cackle all natives seem to acquire as 

 they get into years, " these old bent legs are only good 



