"We shall stay here a
few days more that you may see Srinagar, and then they tow us up
into the Dal Lake opposite the Gardens of the Mogul Emperors. And
if you think this beautiful what will you say then?"
I shut my eyes and see still that first meal of my new life. The
little table that Pir Baksh, breathing full East in his
jade-green turban, set before her, with its cloth worked in a
pattern of the chenar leaves that are the symbol of Kashmir; the
brown cakes made by Ahmad Khan in a miraculous kitchen of his own
invention - a few holes burrowed in the river bank, a smoldering
fire beneath them, and a width of canvas for a roof. But it
served, and no more need be asked of luxury. And Vanna, making it
mysteriously the first home I ever had known, the central joy of
it all. Oh, wonderful days of life that breathe the spirit of
immortality and pass so quickly - surely they must be treasured
somewhere in Eternity that we may look upon their beloved light
once more.
"Now you must see the boat. The Kedarnath is not a Dreadnought,
but she is broad and very comfortable.
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