After Walking About Five Or Six Kos, In The Finest And Freshest Of
Morning Air, We Suddenly Opened Upon A
Noble mountain of pure unbroken
snow, rearing its head proudly into the blue sky among a train of
courtiers, not
So noble, nor so purely, whitely, clad as itself,
but still arrayed in robes of glistening snow. Here the path emerged
from the side of the rugged mountain torrent, and brought us about
two kos over fine turfy grass to within some three miles of Sooroo;
and here we halted, under a grove of trees, for breakfast. After this,
we had another rope bridge to pass, which was so little to the taste
of the coolies, that they were glad to get the natives to carry over
their loads for them. On crossing we found the Thanadar, a fine old
black-muzzled Cashmeeree, with his Moonshee, and a train of eight
Sipahees waiting to receive us, and were conducted in due form to
our camping ground. Here the breeze, as it whistled over our tent,
savoured strongly of the snow, and reminded us of the vicinity of
the chilly mountain Grandees we had seen on our road, and which still
presided over us.
The natives even appeared to feel the cold, though in the winter months
they are entirely snowed up, and ought to be pretty well inured to
it by this time.
The entire valley is, in winter, totally submerged in snow,
and a stranger might then pass over it without knowing there were
villages beneath his feet.
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