The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1903-08-02

Kashmir, like everything else, has
two sides, and the one known to those
who have never been here, wherein it
is depicted as the paradise of the new
ly-married, and in which it is a lovely
dream of days spent floating UP and
down peaceful rivers whose banks are
a mass of flowers. through blue lakes
encircled by snow mountains, with
balmy, free-care days and lovely
mconlit evenings, is very different
from that side of which one hears when
the the vale Of KaShmir has material
lied at last.
In that second picture wherein one
has, after much advice, come to the
valley by the LIST of April, the whole
Of that month and part of May pass
by in a mist of rain, or blow by in
tempests or SILVER by in chilling cold.
No warmth to speak of can be got from
the FIRE baskets of charcoal; the decks
leak, and gallons are baled out each
day; the food is brought on cold, and
it is impossible to get any exercise, as
the mud is so deep and SO slippery
Part of May and part of June seem
to be the season Of comfort, one month
only we are told, and then come fierce
heat and mosquitoes and flies without
number, almost impossible to guard
against. They, the three, last, it is
said, until September, when it begins
to get cold again and rainy. Added to
all this, if one has a cook boat, in which
the wives and babies of the boatmen
form a feature, the noises all through
the night become appalling.
The rivers of Kashmir are haunted
by noises of every kind and description
and their name means far more than
legion" In the first place, the boat
men always talk all night long and
frequently quarrel and beat each other.
or their families then the wives indie
scribably shrill voices berate their nus
bands or sing to their babies, who evil
IDENTIFY do not appreciate the music any
more than we do, as they cry and
whine continually. Then when the men
get tired of talking to each other they
enliven the midnight hours by yelling
across the river to friends in other
dungaS, and as the river is reasonably
wide all the way up the noise is al
most unbearable.
If blessed lull should by chance
succeed the myriad fiendish noises an.
other dunga is sure to come up as close
as possible on its way up the river and
IS approach heralded by the shouts of
its boatmen to our friends; then it's
tow rope is trailed over the roof, maxi
ing a terrific noise in it's passage. and
probably the rest of the night is made
hideous by the converse between your
cookboat, the new arrival and the other
boat across the river. Yells and an
Id !, fIn
of fowls, goats or occasionally the deep
growl of the weirdvoiced bullock-for
the natives live in reality on their dun
gas and have all their household pos
sessions in the closest proximity.
The other smaller attractions of the
night are the river fish, which bump
in an unmannerly way up against the
bottom of the boat or leap out of the
water with a tremendous splash: the
spirited small birds, which twitter all
night and energetically continue their
building operations quite under ones
nose and sometimes in ones eyes. And
last of all the stray dog who scratches
his stealthy, though noisy, way into the
boat to seek a provender.
Added to all the attributes of the
seamy side are scarcity of good food
during the spring, for all that time and
until June it is next to impossible to
buy fowls, geese or ducks, as the old
feathered things are occupied in rear
ing their young and the young are not
old enough to be eaten. The mutton is
unbearably tough and there are no
vegetables. The summer months, we
are told, are lavish of fruit and vege-
tables, and the poultry at that time is
to be had in plenty.
Last, and perhaps most annoying, is
the trouble with the boatsmen if one
has a dunga or coolies if one has a
housebOat. The boatman is an utterly
irresponsible being. He knows no law
unless fear be called law. He is
go0d-natured, lazy, easily amused, is
ruined by a word of gratitude or praise
and never by any chance does his duty
though he is told it every day, unless
his masters eye is on him.
The minute you leave your boat the
seven boatsmen are off, too, leaving
your things to the tender mercies of the
inquisitive natives about, who are all
notorious thieves. 1t is one continu-
Gus course of scolding from the minute
one gets aboard until the minute one
leaves, and nothing done satisfactorily
except during the hour perhaps after
a terrific berating- If you give your
men the slightest leeway, you are neg
Iected and all their duties are neglect