Where is the traveller who, having gazed on a mighty range of hills in an unknown land, has not experienced a kind of fascination and indefinite longing to surmount the barrier and see, with his own eyes, what lies beyond? It was with such a feeling that author had gazed on the Himalaya from the Indian side when prevented by a soldier's duties and a want of time from crossing their snows to explore the regions on the farther slopes; and he had looked with envy on those more fortunate individuals who brought back tales of the wonderful countries and “Sportsman's Paradises” which might be reached if leisure permitted. Accordingly, it was with feelings of more than pleasurable anticipation that he found himself gazing once more on the hills that surround the lovely vale of Kashmir, and felt that time was now no object, and that he was free to wander over them as fancy, or the chances of sport might dictate. It is, however, as every traveller in the East well knows, one thing to propose to start on an expedition forthwith, and quite another to find oneself en route. Even with the best laid schemes, and every preparation carefully made beforehand, one is apt to find oneself defeated by the dilatory Asiatic, and patience is a virtue that should certainly be cultivated by a traveller in the East. However, one might spend one's time worse than by passing the months of April and May in Kashmir, which surely at this time of year must be hard to beat anywhere for beauty. The trees, meadows, and even houses, are covered with many-coloured flowers, while the whiteness of the snows, still low down on the mountain-sides, forms a brilliant background to every picturesque scene.