We crashed under the mulberry tree,
which swept us from stem to stern, nearly carrying the hen-coop overboard;
while Jane and I lay flat under a perfect hail of squashy black fruit
which covered the upper deck.
We went on shore for a moonlight stroll after dinner. The place was like a
glorified English park; chenars of the first magnitude, taking the place
of oaks, rose from the short crisp turf, while a band of stately poplars
stood sentry on the river bank. Through blackest shadow and over patches
of moonlit sward we rambled till we came upon the ruins of a temple, of
which little was left but a crumbled heap of masonry in the middle of a
rectangular grassy hollow which had evidently been a tank, small detached
mounds, showing where the piers of a little bridge had stood, giving
access to the building from the bank. An avenue of chenars led straight to
the bridge, showing either the antiquity of the trees or the comparatively
modern date of the temple.
_June 19_.--Yesterday afternoon we left Bejbehara, and went on to Kanbal,
the port of Islamabad. A hot and sultry day, oppressive and enervating to
all but the flies, which were remarkably energetic and lively. The river
below Islamabad is quite narrow, and hemmed in between high mudbanks.
Here we found the "Baltic Fleet," but, knowing that our fugitive friends
must have already reached Atchibal, we held to our intention of going up
the Lidar.
Having tied up to a remarkably smelly bank, which was just lofty enough to
screen our heated brows from any wandering breeze, we landed to explore.
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