Three Months of My Life
Three Months of My Life
This Work requires few prefatory remarks. I have transcribed without alteration, the Diary that I kept during my visit to Kashmir. It may seem a strange jumble of description and sentiment, jocularity and seriousness. During the greater part of each day I enjoyed perfect rest, smoking and thinking—sometimes soberly, often I fear idly—and for mere occupation sake, my thoughts were written as they arose. My mind as influenced by scene or incident, is fully exposed in these pages, and while I have concealed nothing, neither have I added to that which I originally indited. I am necessarily, and indeed intentionally egotistical, because I write for those who will chiefly value a personal narrative. Still, I am not ashamed if others see my book, although I would deprecate their criticism by begging them to remember that I only offer it for the perusal of those near and dear to me.
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d of the march. At last we came to a running stream in which he
laid down and was much refreshed, before that his panting had become
gasping though he kept up with us bravely, only lying down for a moment
when we came to a little bit of shade--not often met with, the last
three or four miles. For the last day or two, I have been almost
continually in a cool, gentle perspiration, this is a great contrast to
my state when at Peshawur, where my skin was always as dry as a bone,
and I look upon that as a healthy symptom, I have had no headache since
I left Bugnostan.
JULY 10th.--To Mozufferabad nine miles, but apparently much more, such a bad fatiguing march. I got away with the first grey of the dawn and after a mile's tramp began the ascent of the Doabbuller pass, three and a half miles long and very steep, so steep that I could often touch the ground with my hands without stooping much. This was terribly exhausting and I had to make many halts to recover my breath. Then began a rough descent along the side
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