out, could scarcely drag their limbs along; the very Hindoos themselves, who seem designed to revel in sunshine, began to droop, and our traveller, who had braved the climate of Egypt and the Arabian deserts, writing from the camp, on the tenth day of their march from Lahore, exclaims, "My whole face, hands, and feet are flayed, and my whole body is covered with small red pustules which prick like needles. Yesterday, one of our horsemen, who happened to have no tent, was found dead at the foot of a tree, which he had grasped in his last agonies. I doubt whether I shall be able to hold out till night. All my hopes rest upon a little curds which I steep in water, and on a little sugar, with four or five lemons. The very ink is dried up at the point of my pen, and the pen itself drops from my hand. Adieu."
His frame, however, was much tougher than he imagined; and he continued to proceed with the rest, till having crossed the Chenâb, one of the five rivers, they ascended Mount Bember, and found themselves in Cashmere, the Tempé of Hindostan. The traditions of the Hindoos respecting the formation of this beautiful valley greatly resemble those which prevailed among the Greeks about that of Thessaly, both being said to have been originally a lake enclosed by lofty mountains, which having, been rent by the agency of earthquakes, or bored by human industry, suffered the waters to escape. Whatever was its origin, the Indian Tempé, though vaunted by less renowned poets, is no way inferior in fertility or beauty to the Thessalian. Fields clothed with eternal green, and sprinkled thick with violets, roses, narcissuses, and other delicate or fragrant flowers, which here grow wild, meet the eye on all sides; while, to divide or diversify them, a number of small streams of crystal purity, and several lakes of various dimensions, glide or sparkle in the foreground of the landscape. On all sides round arise a range
