148 A Sportswoman in India 



agency to take us into Kashmir by tonga^ the ponies 

 had been sent on ahead, and we had packed all our own 

 effects. Sunday, July 24th, saw us start (the better the 

 day, the better the deed) at 9.30 a.m., in torrents of 

 rain, for our Eldorado, "The Happy Valley." 



No traveller in India should miss seeing Kashmir. 

 True, it is said to be spoilt ; it is said not to be what 

 it once was ; but in spite of this it is still one of the 

 most fascinating and most beautiful kingdoms in the 

 world. It is large enough not to be in the least degree 

 over-peopled by the many Europeans who now go in 

 on leave every summer. There are hundreds of places 

 up in the valleys, out of the beaten track, where one 

 might camp for months unmolested by a single fellow- 

 countryman. It is a country which, like everything 

 which is worth caring for at all, grows upon one ; the 

 longer a man is there, the more part of himself it 

 becomes, the harder it is to leave, and the dearer grow 

 those memories which time does not succeed in 

 effacing. 



At every stage, that is about six miles, we changed 

 ponies, and our tonga rattled into Kohala for tiffin in 

 the dak bungalow. The route into Kashmir follows 

 the valley of the Jhelum, that classical Hydaspes which 

 formed the eastern limits of the conquests of Alexander 

 the Great. He is said to have embarked on it to 

 descend to the Indus. 



We first came in sight of the Jhelum at Kohala ; it 

 was very hot down there, after Murree, and quite fine ; 

 a punkah was acceptable at tiffin. We were soon 



