A Day in Chitral 1 1 



without hitting the mark, when a cousin of the 

 Mehtar's, who had distinguished himself during 

 the siege of Chitral by his skill in picking off men 

 in the fort from the high ground on the opposite 

 bank of the river, came past with a double-bar- 

 relled breech-loader. A puff of dust from the 

 gourd answered his shot, the crowd shouted, the 

 pole was pulled up, and we were conducted to our 

 respective camps. Mine was in the grounds of the 

 castle, on a stretch of turf shaded by fine plane- 

 trees. A Chitrali garden is no garden as under- 

 stood in England ; there are no flower-beds, and, 

 except in the month of fruit-blossoms, no masses 

 of colour, merely soft green turf, running water, 

 and deep cool shade. A few wild hyacinths grow- 

 ing by the side of the water suffice to give a touch 

 of subdued colour in accordance with the restful 

 spirit of the scene ; for, whatever may be the 

 necessity for colour under dull skies, there are few 

 that have experienced the brightness and glare of 

 the Orient that would feel disposed to criticise the 

 Eastern preference for less obtrusive beauties. 



Except during the extreme heat of the day, the 

 garden resounds with the song of birds : one can 

 recognise the note of the thrush and the deep 

 mellow pipe of the golden oriole, and sometimes 

 catch a glimpse of him as like a streak of flame he 

 darts among the branches. 



