KASHMIR VALLEYS 207 



A hoary tree, partly disembowelled by the wild tempests, 

 was noted and climbed to, then a great plant of rhubarb 

 was marked down, and just when my energies began 

 again to flag an unusual spot of light colour on the hill- 

 side raised my curiosity. I had first to decide whether 

 it were a living thing or blocks of masonry. A few 

 moments of scramble, and the manufactured theory was 

 abandoned. Then came the question whether they 

 were fagots piled there by coolies ready for transport 

 down or flowers. Undoubtedly there were flowers, 

 bunches of them, what joy! a great bank of rhododen- 

 drons, the beautiful leaves with brown velvet lining, a 

 fitting background to the heads of soft pink blossoms. 

 What strange accident had resulted in this beauty spot 

 in the bleak, drear hillside none could tell, on a height 

 but seldom and for short periods free from snow and 

 frost. They were flourishing as cheerily and flowering as 

 bountifully as in the most favoured home gardens. 



It was impossible not to be moved by such a dis- 

 covery, beauty cut off from all camaraderie is always 

 pathetic, and these flowered lonely and unseen, save by 

 a chance wanderer who preferred his own path rather 

 than to follow in others' footsteps. The delicacy and 

 abundance of the bloom, though hampered by the blasts 

 of fierce tornados and the long continued winter frosts, 

 was a vastly cheering sight, like the chance meeting 

 with a kind friend when adrift in an unknown desert, 

 and I have seldom felt so deeply in Nature's debt as I 

 did that day, and naught wherewith to pay the debt ! As 

 some equivalent an undying memory and a thankful 

 spirit may be counted. From that spot upward there 

 was little to mark save increasing steepness, rough 

 stones, added difficulty in breathing. It was past mid- 



