An Account of a Journey in Kashmir by David Lockhart Robertson Lorimer and Letters from Emily Overend Lorimer to her Parents sent from Bahrain and Kerman [‎622v] (1266/1291)

insane Ferangi would want his chair placed on the ground in the
midlle of trees and flo wers; still less would anyone not a
Ferangi waste his time walking up and down the gardeners' paths
leaping watercourses where necessary. Still we have been
able to find sereral very d cent little paths up and do^Ti which
can smoke our cigar and discuss the probable plans at Cionsjea
which have given us endless pleasure. It will be sad to hear
six weeks henee that it rained all the time ! .' However, I
gather it occasionally rains even in Scotland.
we
Our daily programme is very simple. We are up and dressed
by 7 (really 6.30 by local time) and take a walk in he garden
to keep ourselves warm, then read quietly a bit before breakfast.
After breakfast, -ock's tame bakhtiari v whom we have living on the
premises at a handsome salary) comes in and works with L. till
lunch. I betake myself into the adjacent dining room where I
can type or work without disturbing or being disturbed. After
lunch we may lie down, but more often get some work done before tea
after tea, we go out for a walk and come in and get another
done before 8 o'c dinner. After that we read as usual and turn
in before ten. It is most peaceful. There are no very definite
walks round, but we can go straight out into the desert towards
the foot of the hills and climb on to a point of vantage and look
down on the prosperous collection of gardens that form Sar 1 Aslyab
and the great mass of Jupa rising away up into the skies behind them
And when the sun begins to set and the whole great range of
mountains on the ^ast lights up with a thousand different c 4 >lours
purples and blues and crimsons-, every cranny and crevice on
their seamed faces playing a dlffemt part in catching or reflecting
the sunset, it is a scene far passing description. Yesterday
we walked right down to the lower end of the place. A he quaint
road that skirts the village twists and wir^ about between the
gardens on the left and the foot of the hills on the right.
The Persian mind sees in a road only a convenient channel down which
to run water. Some beafet at the far end of the village was
having an extra supply brought down to his garden, and a sizable
stream was crossing and recrossing the road quite un&uided. It
would be perfectly possible to keep it at one side and to leave ampb
room fom foot passengers at the other, but this would Involve a
little troub 3 &. and thought and is nobody's business. Besides no
one walks who has a donkey and donkeys can walk quite c^erfully
through five or six inches of water. And anyone too poor to have
a donkey f* is probably barefooted and walks through unquestloningly
himself. "e had quite an amusing time leaping this stream
about a dozen times, and sometimes evading a leap by clinging
perilously to a goat track ^ Inches wide at the base of a wall.
As a slip* or a fall would only have meant a splash and a wet foot
one had a pleasant sense of adventure without any risk. When we
emerged at the far end into the great desert valley, we thought we
should try a new way home and struck off to come home via the other
side of the village. we got en gaged in the most comical little
road; it ran along at all sorts of queer and irrational angles
between high mud walls with big trees peeping over. It was
frequently flooded by a temporary stream and sometimes by a more
permanent one with willows along its banks. You could see neither