THE OUTER HIMALAYAH. 41 



the ebbing tide. On the one side, in the horizon, the 

 Simla hills are visible ; while, on the other, the distant 

 Ravee winds its silent course. 



There is a pure, light, exhilarating air at all seasons 

 of the year, which, at a time when the inhabitants of 

 the plains, immured in darkened rooms, are gasping in 

 the choking heat, permits to the happy fugitive in the 

 Himalayah healthful exercise and refreshing sleep. The 

 rosy cheeks of the children and the robust appearance 

 of the elder people, who cram every available house; 

 the wasted forms of the invalids gradually filling out, and 

 their hollow eyes sparkling with renewing vigour; the 

 English soldiers, who carried to the station in litters 

 from the hospitals of the plains, but now, active, merry, 

 and hearty, as a British soldier delights to be ; all this 

 speaks well of the climate in the summer ; and in winter, 

 when a fall of snow has rendered all rugged inequalities 

 one soft, swelling mass of white what can be more 

 healthy or delightful ? A long ramble in the snow, 

 that crackles crisply as you walk along, with the sharp 

 clear air blowing in your face and rustling in the sombre 

 oaks, helping the black-faced monkeys to shower down 

 on you innumerable flakes, causes you to welcome the 

 log fire, whose genial glow streams out on your returning 

 form, encroaching with a ruddy warmth on the darkness 

 which surrounds your house. And when, with curtains 

 drawn and cheerful light, your slippered feet rest snugly 

 on the fender, and you are lazily enjoying the pleasant 

 warmth after your Indian Christmas dinner, you cannot 

 help owning debarred though you may be from the 



