consisting only of some six drummers.  He is playing his part doubtless very much to his own satisfaction, and little thinking that there is one “taking notes” and laughing at his proceedings.  But so it is, we can always see, and ridicule the faults and foibles of others, would to God we could as easily perceive and weep over those of our own.  The Baboo Mohes Chund called to pay his farewell visit to me and shortly afterwards sent a second edition of “russud” including as before—­a live sheep.

AUGUST 31st.—­My last day in Sreenuggur—­and now let me make a few observations on a topic which I dare say you are surprised has not been mentioned before, I mean the women; the far-famed beauties of Kashmir.  I am not ungallant, while I have been silent, I have been observing, and have delayed my remarks in order that they might have the benefit of the largest experience I could command.  I did this the more willingly, because to tell the truth, I was disappointed at first, and I hoped that by waiting I might eventually have reason to change my unfavourable opinion.  This however has not been the case, and while I intend to do full justice to their charms I must commence by saying that they have been grossly exaggerated.  I do not of course allude to the higher classes.  They are invisible; they may be very beautiful, but are never seen by Europeans.  But the middle and lower classes go about with the face uncovered, exposing themselves to the criticism of some and the admiration of others, and it is of them I speak.  The slim elegant figure of the Hindoo is seldom seen; they are large, plump, round women.  Their complexion has been absurdly compared to that of our brunettes (may they feel complimented thereby) but veracity compels me to say that they are very dark.  Fair indeed by comparison with the Hindoos, but actually and unmistakeably copper-coloured not to say black.  In their features we find a great improvement; a well-shaped nose replaces the expanded nostrils, compressed lips, the thick pouting ones, their teeth are of marvellous whiteness and regularity as are those of all Asiatics.  Their cheeks may sometimes have a tinge of pink, but this is usually veiled by the darker tint of the “rete mucosum.”  Their eyes—­oh! their eyes!—­here lies their beauty, almond-shaped eyes, that when not in anger cannot help throwing the sweetest and most captivating glances.  None of your trained disciplined eyes, taught to express feelings that do not exist; but still eyes that equally deceive, eyes that nature in some strange freak determined should ever look love.  Unconsciously and unintentionally they dart upon you the brightest, the most tender, nay, even passionate glances.  When looking at a young face, you only see the eyes; eyes so voluptuous, so maddening, that you exclaim “good heavens what a beautiful creature,” and unless you are a calm and cool analyst like myself, you may not discover that there is really no beauty save in them.