150 AFOOT THROUGH THE 



I walk alone ; the air is sweet, 



The white road wanders to the sea, 



I dream of those two little feet 



That grew so tired in reaching me. 



Maybe the story told somewhat of his own life-history ; 

 there was a pathetic lingering over the last lines, and 

 then he added hastily as I tried to give him a small tip, 

 " No, no, I have pension ; I was a soldier once, and can 

 afford snuff and a little for the baba log that will come 



Pandits and Panditanis, Kashmir 



and worry an old fellow " (for a swarm of tiny fat babies 

 had gradually collected from nowhere seemingly, as 

 children will at the sound of music), " but let the Sahib 

 mind the sun." 



He stood salaaming as I turned away across a 

 mulberry-shaded green in the direction of the lake, and 

 I wished I knew more of his history, could speak the 

 sympathy I felt, and be allowed if for once only to enter 

 somewhat into the pleasures and troubles of this strange 



