TO THE WURDWAN. 39 



up my diary to this date, and feel as if I could stick to it. 

 To-morrow is my birthday : what a crowd of thoughts 

 arise and connect themselves with it ! 



12th May. Nah-bugh. We arrived here at a quarter 

 to nine, having in the earlier portion of the journey passed 

 through a beautiful country. 



The path led along the slopes of some hills of moderate 

 height, well- wooded and, here and there, opening out into 

 smooth lawns ; the woods were full of blossoms, a white 

 clematis very plentiful and full of flower. The trees and 

 shrubs, in their character and distribution, and indeed ihe 

 whole scene, strongly resembled an extensive shrubbery 

 or wilderness, intended to look wild and natural, such as 

 we see in the domains of the wealth}^ in Old England. 

 And to strengthen the resemblance, the well-remembered 

 voice of the cuckoo resounded over hill and dale, and one 

 remained perched on a tree near enough to be distinct ly 

 observed. Other birds were singing lustily : among them 

 the blackbird's sweet melody was plainly distinguished. 

 It is, I believe, the same bird, and sings the same notes 

 as the English bird. The cuckoo, also, is precisety sim- 

 ilar to our welcome spring visitor, and, curious enough, 

 the Cashmiries also call him ' cuckoo/ 



HOAV pleasant it was to traverse these lovely glades, 

 lifting the eyes from which, mountain ranges presented 

 themselves, the more distant rugged and bleak, and covered 

 with snow, those nearer displaying their many diverging 

 slopes in multiplied ramifications, some open and grassy, 

 others with nearly all the ridges covered with pine forests, 

 with which other trees mingling agreeably contrasted 

 their diverse colours. 



I must not forget to note that this my birth-day was 

 ushered in by a real May morning, much such in tem- 

 perature as the finest and brightest in England would be ; 



