KASHMIR VALLEYS 185 



Hardened non-observer as I was, I could not resist 

 the begiiilements of a flowery bank that appeared, as 

 the path, taking a sudden turn to the left, began to rise 

 steeply; it was covered with roses, such roses, 

 of every shade and hue, and with the daintiest 

 undergrowth of forget-me-not of a blue so deep 

 and pure that it was easy to understand why 

 " gentians " had suggested themselves. It was a reviving 

 spectacle, and when further treasures of jessamine, 

 berberis, other roses, and other forget-me-nots revealed 

 themselves the path grew less stony, the sun less tiring, 

 and finally turning under great blue pines, the road was 

 absolutely without drawbacks, and I ceased to care how 

 many miles lay before me, how steep the path, or how 

 many hours I might have to wait for dilatory coolies. 

 Slowly I moved on, a fresh breeze blowing from the snow 

 slopes across the valley, an ever-increasing number of 

 hill flowers luring up steep banks or down precipitous 

 slopes. 



It is difficult to imagine with what intention I picked 

 the great bunches that cumbered me sadly and were 

 sorely in my way, but men and women are collecting 

 animals, and it was impossible to move on without the 

 doubtful compliment of noting in this drastic fashion 

 their existence and beauty. Purples and yellows were 

 the prevailing colours, huge crane's bill, iris, tiny yellow 

 viola in sheets, and bushes of berberis and jessamine, 

 asparagus fern made feathery greenery, and sturdier 

 filice made a suitable background. 



Up and up wound the path, and always above 

 but never growing any nearer was the wooden 

 bungalow which crowns the height I knew to 

 be my destination. Two coolies passed me marching 

 briskly up the incline, heavy, over-filled kiltas 



