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.
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