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 dak
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.
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