original of the well-known shawl pattern; miles upon miles of bright and verdant fields, divided and marked out by the banks and hedges; clumps and groves of lofty trees diminished by distance to the appearance of mere dark green bushy excrescences; the poplar avenue looking like two long and paralleled lines drawn upon the ground; the fort and hill but a pigmy now; the city of sombre colour, with its houses closely huddled together and presenting an expanse of mud—­unworthy stone for such a setting!  The high and rugged mountains on every side piercing the clouds, out of which the everlasting snow and ice rock regions untrod by mortal foot gleam and glisten coldly in the scene below; these are the constituent parts of a view which taken altogether ranks among the finest (if indeed it be not itself the finest) in the world.  But I have no description for it as a whole, words would fail me if I attempted to reproduce it on paper, so you must take the items and arrange them to your own satisfaction, and wish you had the opportunity of seeing the glorious original.  I am no antiquarian, but I believe the building itself possesses great interest for those who indulge in that musty study, on account of its vast antiquity and uncertain history.  To me it is only a Hindoo temple of quaint architecture and unwholesome smell.  Inside it is a small marble idol in the form of a pillar with a snake carved round it.

AUGUST 30th, Sunday.—­The beginning of a fresh week which will at its conclusion find me on my way homewards, my back turned on the lovely valley and all the beauties that I have witnessed existing only in my memory like a pleasant dream that has passed.  So wags the world, joys giving place to sorrows, and sorrows in their turn effaced by fresh happiness or oblivion.  For a little while each one of us plays his ever varying part in the great drama of life.  Now bewailing with bursting heart, and scalding tears the light affliction which is but for a moment; now with ringing laugh and reckless gaiety he enjoys the present, forgetful alike of past and future, now with stormy passions raging he “like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep;” and then is his short act over, then the curtain falls and then will he be called before it to receive approbation?  Who can tell, I judge not one individually; but I may generalize and say, that while as a rule we give a terrible earnestness to the performance of the business connected with our parts, we too often fail to appreciate and interpret the spirit of the character, without which it is of course but a sorry exhibition and one that will be deservedly damned.  As I sit under the shade of the chenars writing, a young native swell is passing along the opposite bank of the canal—­a mere boy, with gold turban, lofty plume and embroidered clothing, riding a horse led by two grooms, followed by attendants also mounted, but sitting two on a horse and preceded by a band