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eyes; eyes so voluptuous, so maddening, that you exclaim "good heavens
what a beautiful creature," and unless you are a calm and cool analyst
like myself, you may not discover that there is really no beauty save in
them. They dress their hair in a peculiar manner. It is plaited in a
number of small plaits joining two larger ones which fall over the
shoulders and unite in the middle of the back to form a long tail
terminating with a tassel. The larger plaits are mixed with wool, this
adds to their bulk, and increase the length of the tail, which often
extends below the knees. They wear a single loose gown, reaching in
ample folds nearly to the feet. On the head a small red skull cap, over
which is thrown the white (too often dirty) "chudder" - a light cloth
which hangs down the back and is used for veiling the face. The
boatwomen are renowned for their beauty. I have seen but little of it.
The Punditanees are said to be more beautiful than the boatwomen. I
consider them even less so. But among the Nautch girls I have seen both
grace and beauty, and as a class, I certainly think far better looking
than the others. Respect to age is a noble feeling - though one that is
unfortunately at a low ebb now-a-days - but truth, compels me and I must
pronounce all the elderly women to be positively ugly, and a woman is
elderly in Kashmir when in England she still might be called young. The
men are a fine race, regular features, broad shouldered and muscular,
wearing their bushy black beards on their faces, but shaving the head,
which is covered with a small coloured skull cap and white turban. Two
other men have pitched their tents under this tope. To-morrow I shall
leave them in undisturbed possession of the whole. They are friends and
have been travelling in Kashmir. I have had a conversation with one of
them, but I don't like strangers and am glad they did not come before.

SEPTEMBER 1st. - Up and away, taking a last look at the town and bridges,
a last look at the Tukh-t-i-Suliman while floating down the river. I am
on my way to Baramula, having given up my intended visit to Gulmurg, so
that I may get a week at Murree, and see more of the place than I did
when I was last there. Adieu to Sreenuggur, adieu to the Scind, adieu
to Manusbul; gently onwards we go towards lake Wulloor. It is a bright
clear day, one of the brightest among the many bright ones, and the
valley seems smiling upon me an affectionate farewell in order that the
last recollections and parting scene may be a joyful memory to me in
days and years to come. I thank thee for it. When I am gone let
rain-tears fall and clouds of care bewail my absence, but gladden my
departing moments with the full radiance of thy glorious countenance.
Oh! Kashmir, loveliest spot on earth, I owe thee a deep debt of
gratitude, I came to thee weak in body; thou hast restored my strength,
I was poor in thought; thou hast filled my heart with good things, I
was proud in conceit; thou hast shown me nature's grandeur and my own
littleness. With a voiceless tongue thou hast spoken and my spirit has
heard the unuttered words. Tales of the creation when the morning stars
sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy; tales of man and
his works perished in the endless roll of ages; tales of the future when
heaven and earth shall have passed away amid the dread terror of the
great tribulation. Aye, and one more tale, a tale of love, mercy, and
forgiveness; the tale of an Asiatic - who, not far from here, was once
"bruised for our transgressions," who took upon Himself the iniquities
of us all and made up for us a mighty deliverance, and to this tale
there is a refrain that echoes from hill to hill, and spreads along the
plain in endless repetition, "believe only and thou shalt be saved," but
though the command is so simple, its eager passionate tone as it swells
around me, and an earnest mournful cadence as it dies away in the
distance, seems to imply that it is neither easily nor commonly obeyed.

SEPTEMBER 2nd. - Awoke early and found myself in the broad waters of the
lake, the full moon shining brightly in the west, and yet unpaled by the
rosy dawn that was rapidly illuminating the east. Stopped at Sopoor for
breakfast, and Macnamara, surgeon of the 60th Rifles, and his wife,
arrived soon after me, also bound for Murree. Macnamara was at Peshawur
with me, and was one of the committee that sent me away. We passed the
morning in conversation, and at mid-day continued our journey to
Baramula. He told me that he had heard that I was going home this winter
with troops; but I do not know whether his information is reliable. I
trust it may prove to be so, but it has not raised my hopes to a
certainty. It is a good rule never to reckon confidently upon the
achievement of our desires. It never assists to realise them and only
renders the disappointment more bitter in case of failure. I have a
great hope, but I do not forget that obstacles may arise, that while
man proposes God disposes, and often find myself forming plans for next
year under the supposition that I shall still remain in India. I have
written the dedication of this volume and have written it as if I had
already returned to England, and this may appear to indicate that I rely
strongly upon the fulfilment of my expectation. But not so, I can alter
or destroy it if need be, and shall do so with regret indeed, but
without despair. About halfway between Sopoor and Baramula the wind
increased to a gale and obliged me to take refuge under the bank. I
dined with Macnamara and his wife at 8 o'clock, the weather moderated
and we proceeded to Baramula.

SEPTEMBER 3rd. - At sunrise I obtained coolies, and turned my back on
the happy valley for ever. It was a beautiful morning with a golden haze
rising from the ground, the mountains appearing blue and purple against
the eastern halo; but before I had gone a mile a dark cloud gathered
around me, and wept passionate rain. I marched to Naoshera, ten miles,
followed in an hour by Dr. and Mrs. Macnamara who will be my fellow
travellers as far as Murree. The Rohale ferry is re-opened and I am
returning by the direct road on the left bank of the Jhelum. There is a
barahduree at every stage, so I sold my tent at Sreenuggur to render my
baggage lighter. I am travelling with only six coolies. The river is
much lower and less rapid than when I came up it, the excess of water
caused by the melting of the snow during the summer having been carried
off. It is still however a noisy turbulent torrent.

SEPTEMBER 4th. - A long march of fourteen miles to Ooree. The road is
becoming very hilly, but is not as yet nearly so rough and difficult as
on the other side. Passed two ruins; one of then very similar to those
at Wangut, but much smaller.

SEPTEMBER 5th. - To Chukoti, sixteen miles, a severe and fatiguing march,
the hills being intersected by ravines - the beds of streams - to all of
which there was a steep descent and corresponding ascent. This is the
worst march on the Murree road, but though bad, it is much better than
five or six that I described on my journey from Abbottabad. These long
marches are very detrimental to my diary, for at the conclusion I have
no energy either to think or write. I am not using my dandy now, and
have to walk every inch of the way.

SEPTEMBER 6th. - Fifteen weary miles to Huttian, low down on a level with
the river where I found a number of tents belonging to the Lord Bishop
of Calcutta and his Chaplain, who are here with a large retinue of
servants, and are on their way into Kashmir. They had very
considerately and unlike a certain - - - - left the bungalow empty for
the use of other travellers. Macnamara sprained his knee yesterday, and
used my dandy to day. One of my coolies stumbled on the road and the
Kitta he was carrying - containing my stores and cooking utensils, went
over the Rhudd and burst open in the fall. Macnamara was behind
fortunately (for me) and superintended the collection of the articles so
that my only loss of any moment is that of my big cooking pot, which
from its weight probably rolled all the way down to the Jhelum - the long
grass growing on the hill, stopped the other things. The six remaining
marches are I am glad to say short. The three last have been a severe
trial on account of the numerous and rough ups and downs, and for the
last mile or two this morning, the soles of my feet were in great pain;
Silly too was very exhausted even to the dropping of his tail.

SEPTEMBER 7th. - Got up at daybreak and marched on Chikar, distance ten
miles. For three miles the road continued along the valley of the
Jhelum, and then turned to the south, and crossed several ranges of
hills, each range rising higher than the one before, very hard work it
was, the ascents being so steep and long - I can't keep my breath going
up hill; it is far more fatiguing than any roughness of road. Chikar is
a good sized village with a fort and is situated on the summit of a
mountain at least two thousand feet above the Jhelum. There is a fine
view of the surrounding hills from the Barahduree. Shortly after our
arrival it began to rain, and has turned out a wet day. I had half my
crockery broken by the coolie dropping the basket instead of putting it
carefully down at the conclusion of the march.

SEPTEMBER 8th. - To Meira, seven and a half miles, a toilsome hill for
half the distance, and then a descent the rest of the way. Scenery very
pretty, the valleys being much larger and the mountains higher. The
Murree ridge is now visible. From this bungalow we can see the next
halting place, half way up a hill on the opposite side of an extensive
valley deeply cut by ravines. The view is really very grand - much the
finest on this road - in some parts it slightly resembles the scenery
around Darjeeling with, of course, pine trees taking the place of
magnolias and rhododendrons. The mere mention of those trees - magnolias
and rhododendrons I mean - will only give you a misconception of the
Sikin forests, because your ideas will be turned to the stunted shrubs
of our northern latitudes. The magnolias and rhododendrons I speak of,
are huge towering trees, taller than the largest oaks. How well I
remember the magnificent spectacle they presented when in blossom! I
have never seen mountains or forests that could compare in grandeur with
those of the eastern Himalayas. Can you imagine Kishun-gunga twenty-nine
thousand feet high? No! it is impossible; it is a sight that produces
the most intense awe, and when I first looked upon it I did not know how
to contain my feelings; but enough, or I shall be giving you a chapter
quite irrevelant to my journey from Kashmir. By the side of this
bungalow stands a large cypress; a very beautiful and by no means a
common tree. There is something peculiarly rich in its dark green
foliage, and withal, melancholy look, but that is doubtless owing to
its tomb - stone associations. Ince in his "Guide," calls it a
_sycamore_. He could hardly have named a tree more widely different.

SEPTEMBER 9th. - To Dunee, eight and a half miles; first half, down hill,
second up: both very steep and rough. A bad fatiguing march. The
barahduree here has been lately white-washed and looks quite refreshing
after the other dirty ones; but the rooms are ridiculously small. This
is the last halt in Kashmirian territory; to-morrow we shall be in a dâk
bungalow. I had a lesson to-day. The same lesson that the spider taught
Bruce - never to cease striving to obtain any desired object; and not
despair even if frequent failures attend the attempt. Ever since I left
Baramula I have been endeavouring to catch another of the green
butterflies, as beetles had eaten my first specimen. But they are very
alert on the wing, and I could not get near one. The last two or three
marches I had not seen any, having got out of their locality, but to-day
a solitary one flew by me and I knocked it down, caught it, and secured
it in my toper. Success will eventually crown all constant endeavours,
it is a slight peg on which to hang a moral, but let it pass. Life is
made up of trifles, and I desire my book to represent my life. A number
of people - ladies, men, and children - came into the bungalow at 2
o'clock, having made a double march and overtaken us; so we are very
closely packed, even the verandah being occupied.

SEPTEMBER 10th. - To Kohala, six miles, nearly all the way down a
terribly steep and rough hill to the banks of the Jhelum - which river
has taken a great bend among the mountains and now runs at right angles
to its former course. A ferry boat crosses the torrent at this spot and
the passage during the summer is attended with considerable danger, as
the stream runs at the rate of twenty miles an hour. I got my baggage in
it and landed upon British soil at the other side. The Dâk bungalow is
just above, but we were very much crowded as all the other people
remained for the night. After dinner a great thunderstorm took place
accompanied with very heavy rain.

SEPTEMBER 11th. - Marched to Dargwal, twelve miles, up hill all the way,
but the road is broad and smooth, so that the march was quickly and
easily accomplished. M - - and his wife did not come in till the middle
of the day as they could not get coolies in time to start early. There
is a good furnished bungalow here, our other fellow travellers have gone
on to Murree, so we have the house to ourselves.

SEPTEMBER 12th. - To Murree, ten miles, road the same as yesterday. Went
to Woodcot, and found Spurgeon, Gordon, and Egerton, of the 36th; Hensma
and Beadnell, 77th; and Dalrymple, 88th. Put up with them sharing
Spurgeon's room. Spent a pleasant time at Murree, doing very little - a
long rest of ten days after my labours - and on the 22nd, at 1 o'clock, I
took my seat in the mail cart with Redan Massy for my companion, and
started on my journey to Peshawur. Arrived at Rawul Birder at 6 in the
evening, and went on at once by the Government van. Had no time for
food. Got to Peshawur at 7 o'clock next morning, and thus ended my three
months sick leave. And now I go back to the din and bustle of life, the
empty conventionalities of society, the noise and glitter of mess; to
the re-pursuit of my profession, and to learn again by the bedside of
many a dying man how weak and powerless is that profession to combat the
ills that flesh is heir to. I sometimes wish I could exchange my present
calling. Terrible thoughts often assail me, after the death of any of my
patients. Questions as to whether I am at all responsible for the fatal
issue. Whether by lack of knowledge that I should possess or by careless
observation during the progress of the disease, I have allowed a man to
die who might have been saved, or pushed into the grave one who was only
trembling with uncertainty upon its brink. Yet as a set off against
these feelings there is the satisfaction experienced when sufferings are
relieved or health restored by the interposition of my aid. The
profession of medicine is potent for good and evil. For good in the
hands of him who makes it his lifelong study; for evil in his hands who
adopts it merely as a respectable means of obtaining his livelihood. It
is noble in the one case; detestable in the other. You do not know how
detestable. If the vail could be raised, if you could see the vast
amount of misery and suffering caused, the many hearts broken that God
would not have made sad; and the many unprepared souls hurried out of
this life into eternity by the ignorance of men who are "licensed to
kill," you would cry out against the whole body of the profession with a
bitter hatred, that even the army of noble and devoted minds amongst us
would be unable to appease. Am I too severe? I fear not. There are
charlatans and know nothings in every pursuit, but in mine they effect
so seriously the temporal and may be eternal welfare of mankind that
their existence is awful to contemplate. Shall I, in conclusion, write
an apology for having nothing better than the foregoing to offer for
your perusal "devil a bit." If I have written folly and you have read it
all, why, you are the greater simpleton. To me it was an occupation when
I had nothing better to do, on your part it was a foolish waste of
time, which might have been more profitably employed. If I have written
folly and you have _not_ read it, what necessity is there for me to
apologize to you? If I have written sense and you consider it nonsense,
you owe me an apology for your erroneous opinion. But if I have written
sense and you have derived pleasure from the perusal of it, then we are
both content, and I need neither forefend your criticism nor beg your
excuses. Thus then I have proved that though it may possibly be
necessary for you to apologize to me, it cannot under any circumstance
be needful for me to apologize to you. But there is a small class to
whom the above remarks do not apply. I mean those few who I delight to
think will read my book diligently and admiringly, merely because _I_
wrote it. Whose judgment is warped by their affection, and who will be
unconscious of the weary yawn my pages may often produce. Shall I
apologize to them? No! let them read, let them yawn; T'is a labour of
love on their part, a labour which _love_ has prepared for them - and for
them alone - or mine.

And now farewell. May your shadow _never_ grow less! May you live for a
thousand years.


JANUARY 16th, 1869. - If these notes should ever be written out by my
relations after my death - for I am now like to die, let me beg that the
many mistakes in spelling, consequent upon the hurry and roughness of
the writing, may by corrected and not set down to ignorance.


Prince Frederic of Schleswig Holstein.
His Excellency Lieut.-General E. Frome, R.E., Governor of Guernsey.
Sir P. Stafford Carey, Bailiff of Guernsey.
Edgar MacCulloch, Esq., Lieutenant-Bailiff.
William Wallace Armstrong, Esq., San Francisco. A.B.
Mrs. Boucaut, Guernsey.
General Sir George Brooke, K.C.B., R.H.A.
Lieut.-Col. H.J. Buchanan, 2-9th Regiment.
Major Henry L. Brownrigg, 84th Regiment.
Henry S.R. Bagenal, Esq., Control Department.
Captain George P. Beamish, 36th Regiment.
Mr. George Beedle, Quarter-Master 6th Regiment.
A. Brown, Esq., National Provincial Bank of England.
J. P. Bainbrigge, Esq., Bank of England, Liverpool.
J. Banckes, Esq., Shipwrecked Mariners' Society.
Mrs. Crawford, Guernsey.
Mrs. Cunnynghame, Edinburgh.
W. Collins, Esq., M.D., Scots Fusilier Guards.
Mrs. Cave, Hartley Whitney, Hants.
Captain G. Collis, 6th Regiment.
Colonel Conran, Fitzroy, Melbourne.
H. Couling, Esq., Brighton.
H. Cuppaidge, Esq.
Miss Dugdale, 75, Gloucester Terrace, Hyde Park, W.
Miss E. Donne, Grove Terrace Highgate.
Miss Donne, Salisbury.
James D'Altera, Esq., M.D.
James Deane, Esq., Queenstown, Cork.
W.G. Don, Esq., M.D.
Dr. Drewitt, Wimborne, Dorset.
Dr. Dudfield, 8, Upper Phillimore Place, Kensington, W.
B. De Marylski, Esq., Royal Artillery.
Captain P. De Saumarez, Guernsey.
Captain D.K. Evans, 6th Regiment.
Mrs. W. Foster, 7, Lower Berkeley Street, London.
Mrs. E. Foster, 10, Chester Terrace, Regent's Park.
Mrs. Feilden, Isle of Herm.
Major-Gen. Sampson Freeth, late Royal Engineers.
Major-Gen. James H. Freeth, late Royal Engineers.
Colonel Foster, late 16th Lancers.
The Rev. W. Foran, Guernsey.
Walter Freeth Esq., Croydon.
Henry Foster Esq., Victoria Road, Kensington.
Patterson Foster, Esq.
Kingsly, O. Foster, Esq.
Mrs. F.W. Gosselin, Guernsey.
Rev. F. Giffard, The Vicarage, Hartley Wintney.
John C. Guerin, Esq., Guernsey.
S.M. Gully, Esq., 9th Regiment.
F.L. Grundy, Esq., 6th Regiment.
M. Garnier, Guernsey.
Mrs. Horridge.
Lieut.-Col. Fitzwilliam Hunter, 36th Regiment.
T. Holmes, Esq., 18, Great Cumberland Place, Hyde Park.
Captain J.B. Hopkins, 6th Regiment.
Reginald Hollingworth, Esq., late 77th Regiment.
T. Husband, Esq., 34, Argyle Road, Kensington.
Charles Hogge, Esq., 6th Regiment.

In Memoriam.
Miss B.S.H. Coventry Jeffery.
Captain A.H. Josselyn, 9th Regiment.
J.W. Jones, Esq., 5th Dragoon Guards.
The Rev. Charles Kingsley, M.A.
Mr. J. Kenwood, Hartley Wintney.
Mrs. Le Marchant Thomas Le Marchant, Guernsey.
Miss Lefebvre, Guernsey.
Mrs. La Serre, Guernsey.
Sir T. Galbraith Logan, K.C.B., Director General.
Thomas Lacy, Esq., Guernsey.
Major R.B. Lloyd, 36th Regiment.
"Library," Officers, 36th Regiment.
Mr. Thomas Lenfestey, Guernsey.
Mrs. MacPherson, Guernsey.
Mrs. Mogg, Clifton.
Mrs. Peter Martin, Guernsey.
Mrs. Myers, Guernsey.
A.D. MacGregor, Esq., Guernsey.
Capt. A.E. Morgan, late 71st Highland Lt. Inf.
Captain J.W. Massey, 9th Regiment.
J.W. Morgan, Esq., 6th Regiment.
James E. Macdonnel, Esq., 9th Regiment.
W.H. Marriot, Esq., 36th Regiment.
S.M. Maxwell, Esq., 36th Regiment.
A. Morgan, Esq., Treasurer, S.W. Railway.
The Mess, 36th Regiment.
W. Moullin, Esq., Clifton.
Miss A.M. Newman, Cheltenham.
The Rev. E.J. Ozanne, M.A., Guernsey.
Captain J. Osmer, 36th Regiment.
E.F. O'Leary, Esq., 6th Regiment.
Mrs. Joshua Priaulx, Guernsey.
Mr. Charles Palmer, Hartley Wintney.
Miss M. Pittard Guernsey.
Colonel Priaulx, Guernsey.
Colonel Lewis Peyton.
G. Pollock, Esq., 36, Grosvenor Street, London, W.
C.W. Poulton, Esq., 35th Regiment.
G. Pound; Esq., Odiham, Hants.
Mrs. Ramsay, Isle of Sark.
John Roberts, Esq., M.D., Guernsey.
George M. Richmond, Esq., 36th Regiment.
J.L. Rose, Esq., 36th Regiment.
Mrs. Sandes, St. John's Hill, London, S.W.
Mrs. R. Smith, Guernsey.
Lieut.-Col. R. Scott, Fort George, Aberdeen.
Major Charles Stirling, late Royal Artillery.
Dr. Fowler Smith, District Recruiting Office, Peterborough.
Capt. C. Spurgeon, 36th Regiment.
Capt. H. Stopford, 36th Regiment.
W. Smail, Esq., 36th Regiment.
R.B. Smyth, Esq., M.B. 102d Regiment.
Mrs. Threllfall, Ferryside, South Wales.
Capt. C. Townsend, Royal Artillery.
D. Thorburn, Esq., M.D., 8th Hussars.
Mrs. Wren, 3 Paris Square, Bayswater.
Charles Williams, Esq., Guernsey.
Watkin S. Whylock, Esq., M.D., Assist.-Surgeon.
Capt. H. Webb, 36th Regiment.
Mr Wetheral, Oak Lodge, Winchfield.
Netley Library.
And "Others received too late for publication."


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