SEPTEMBER 4th.—­A long march of fourteen miles to Ooree.  The road is becoming very hilly, but is not as yet nearly so rough and difficult as on the other side.  Passed two ruins; one of then very similar to those at Wangut, but much smaller.

SEPTEMBER 5th.—­To Chukoti, sixteen miles, a severe and fatiguing march, the hills being intersected by ravines—­the beds of streams—­to all of which there was a steep descent and corresponding ascent.  This is the worst march on the Murree road, but though bad, it is much better than five or six that I described on my journey from Abbottabad.  These long marches are very detrimental to my diary, for at the conclusion I have no energy either to think or write.  I am not using my dandy now, and have to walk every inch of the way.

SEPTEMBER 6th.—­Fifteen weary miles to Huttian, low down on a level with the river where I found a number of tents belonging to the Lord Bishop of Calcutta and his Chaplain, who are here with a large retinue of servants, and are on their way into Kashmir.  They had very considerately and unlike a certain ——­ ——­ left the bungalow empty for the use of other travellers.  Macnamara sprained his knee yesterday, and used my dandy to day.  One of my coolies stumbled on the road and the Kitta he was carrying—­containing my stores and cooking utensils, went over the Rhudd and burst open in the fall.  Macnamara was behind fortunately (for me) and superintended the collection of the articles so that my only loss of any moment is that of my big cooking pot, which from its weight probably rolled all the way down to the Jhelum—­the long grass growing on the hill, stopped the other things.  The six remaining marches are I am glad to say short.  The three last have been a severe trial on account of the numerous and rough ups and downs, and for the last mile or two this morning, the soles of my feet were in great pain; Silly too was very exhausted even to the dropping of his tail.

SEPTEMBER 7th.—­Got up at daybreak and marched on Chikar, distance ten miles.  For three miles the road continued along the valley of the Jhelum, and then turned to the south, and crossed several ranges of hills, each range rising higher than the one before, very hard work it was, the ascents being so steep and long—­I can’t keep my breath going up hill; it is far more fatiguing than any roughness of road.  Chikar is a good sized village with a fort and is situated on the summit of a mountain at least two thousand feet above the Jhelum.  There is a fine view of the surrounding hills from the Barahduree.  Shortly after our arrival it began to rain, and has turned out a wet day.  I had half my crockery broken by the coolie dropping the basket instead of putting it carefully down at the conclusion of the march.