of a railway embankment. There was a place near this, called Traki, a spot of some historical note, as our troops in former days had there an encounter with the Native tribes. After a patient plodding I reached the encamping ground at 8 a.m., near ancient mounds, but I saw no village anywhere near. The Bilochis came to my tent to take leave. One of them, more observant than the rest, said, "I perceive you are a faqir, for you say your prayers morning and evening." As he understood Hindustani I repeated to him the Lord's Prayer, with explanations, which he translated to the others in Bilochi. Of course none of these people can read.

9. Chigardi, 8 miles. The night is by far the best time for marching, and I consequently started in the evening with the baggage. It took me, however, some five hours over this short march, as I had no guide with whom I could go ahead. The track leads over very broken ground, now grassy, now sandy, now stony. At last it descends the steep embankment of a large river or watercourse, which, like the majority of these streams, contains water which is barely ankle deep, but after a few hours of rain becomes a roaring, unfordable torrent. This place invited us to rest, especially as a smouldering fire showed that the cavalry regiment had passed before. The water was good, but the camping-ground as shadeless as usual; it was a great relief at mid-day to get a little shadow under an overhanging rock. All of us began now to feel that the base of supplies had been left long behind, and the heat and diet were beginning to tell upon some. The food almost exclusively consisted of meat: fowls, eggs, and milk were like the vision of a dream, more to be thought of than tasted. Flour, ghee and dal for Sepoys, are all that can be got from the solitary banniah, whose penal task it is to be on the camping-ground when the regiment arrives. He is always on the move, a mystery to most, for where he comes from, or how he gets there, no one knows.

10. Gratch ki drik, 11 miles. Nine days had passed since leaving Rajhanpore, and a glance at the map showed that half the distance to Quetta had not yet been accomplished. But the approach of the Bolan Pass was already becoming more apparent. The road was rough and hilly for nearly the first half of the march, so that we only proceeded in single file. As for pushing on the baggage, those alone can speak with full knowledge and feeling, who, time after time, had to exercise all their ingenuity in overcoming the numerous obstacles. How the guns were got over this portion of the road is still a mystery to many. The latter half of the journey lies through a nullah called the Sori, which joins the Siaf nullah close to the camp, and proceeds in fact for a considerable portion along the bed of this mountain river. The water had therefore to be crossed and recrossed frequently, sometimes up to the knees; and there is no danger attendant upon such a march provided there has been no rain; but if a thunderstorm bursts and deluges the country with rain, each tiny rivulet becomes a rushing stream, adding to the fury of the roaring torrent which it joins, and rendering a quiet march like ours an impossibility. At length we reached the camp, pitched on high ground encircled by hills. As there is no village or sign of habitation, it is impossible to say from what source these halting-places derive their sonorous names.

11. Dinghan, 11 miles. Oct. 19th. This march was considerably easier than the last one, and the night was actually cold, so that the khansamah's fire was a great attraction to us as we rose from our shakedowns at the sound of the bugle. The track towards the resting-place descends again into the ravine, crossing the bed of the river four times, after which it rises

into another somewhat rocky ravine. There was good water obtainable half-way; but it proved quite undrinkable at the camping-ground, and we had consequently to bring water with us from our last place. I need perhaps scarcely mention that the camp was perfectly shadeless like the last, and void of supplies.

12. Lahri, 20 miles. Oct. 20th. The road for a time leaves the mountains, and enters the plain called Cutchi. There are tracks across the plain, so that the regiment went one way and the baggage another. Starting at night in advance, I felt my way along in the dark, partly by the sensation of a trodden path and partly by the stars, knowing our course to be W. by N. After a nine miles' walk I lay down, but found the road unusually hard, and was constantly awakened by the guard passing with the baggage, who must have thought me either dead or sick. There was no other alternative. I rose from this extemporized bed at four in the morning, and found the halting-place where tea was to be had. The unfortunate regiment had, however, taken another road, and missed their tea altogether. The latter part of the road is through fields of maize, which turn aside the steps of the traveller into tortuous bye-paths. It was a treat to see a village again, however small, where supplies can be obtained. A detachment of the Sindh Horse was on the camping ground. The headman of the place is Sorab Khan, who, with his son Mihrab Khan, called on the colonel, and was very civil.

21st October. A halt was made at Lahri for the day, and I made use of it by calling on Sorab Khan at his home. He at once sent for his village moulvi, a learned person who acts as interpreter of the law, scribe and accountant, and, with the help of Nasirullah, the moulvi in question, we got on very well. A circle of Bilochis was soon formed, and we had a long conversation on the Law of Moses, the Law of Christ, and the Law of Muhammad. At last Sorab Khan said, pointing to his moulvi, "Take him with you to Quetta for a month and teach him, and he will come back and teach us all." When I expressed my willingness, the moulvi, who is old, most vigorously shook his head and declined. He offered, however, to accept the Bible; so one of his disciples, named Muhammad Yár, came to my tent, and received the New Testament in Urdu.

22nd October.

13. Mach, 14 miles. This march may be generally characterized as flat and easy. The crowing of cocks in the dark indicated two little Bilochi settlements by the way. Hearing there was no water procurable at Mach, we had to send some men ahead yesterday to dig suitable holes; but when we arrived the water which had collected in them had not had time to settle down, and was as muddy as ditch-water. Here we found no shade or vestige of living creatures, nothing but a baked and cracked plain with hills around. This general monotony was however relieved in the night by some beautiful meteors shooting through space. In spite of many drawbacks, the temper of the officers and men is fully equal to the occasion. Thus, when yesterday an officer of the regiment mentioned that their mess was devoid of such necessary articles as chairs and tables, our colonel quoted a passage from a military handbook, in which the writer suggests that the officer who wanted such luxuries "had better stay at home with his mother."

14. Mittri, 14 miles. 23rd October. As usual, we started long before the dawn of day, and certainly felt our way for three dark hours across the same parched and cracked plain. There was so little to distract our attention that I distinctly remember how we passed through a large flock of Brahui sheep.

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Their owners are altogether migratory, and move from one place to another as it suits them. They leave the cold heights of Quetta about this season, and seek the more genial climate of the plains.

15. Dadar, 14 miles. 24th Oct. This distance was got over in about five hours, and afforded, on the whole, a pleasant march, as there was an easy road at first for about four miles, after which it winds for several miles among sand-hills, issuing again upon the plain, with gradual descent towards the mouth of the Bolan. Dadar is a much more imposing place than Mittri or Lahri. The chief man is Sayyid Aurang Shah, who is well spoken of by English officers, and in this respect presents a contrast to Faiz Muhammad, the Khan of Kelat's Naib or Deputy, who paid his respects by calling on our colonel, but did not charm us by his civility or communicativeness. Here, with the guidance of an old Brahui, formerly serving in one of the cavalry regiments, I visited the site of the British cantonments of 1839-42. A number of bér-trees (Zizyphus Jujuba) mark the spot. The old man also showed me the remains of two bungalows and a grave of "Lubday Sahib " and another officer. It is a mound of mud, without fence, stone, or inscription. Lieutenant Loveday, political agent at Kelat in 1841, was captured by the Biloch chief, Nasir Khan, and taken to Dadar in a camel's kajawa in chains, with all the aggravation of privation, exposure and torture. On the approach of Boscawen's detachment, Nasir Khan cut off Loveday's head and fled. The body was found still warm by our troops. An account of this barbarous deed was published by M. B. Neill in his "Four Years' Service in the East." A view of the hills from here at sunset is very pretty, five ranges, one behind the other, rising in the distance. In spring and autumn this part of the country presents a scene of great animation; for then the pass from Darwoza to Dadar is filled with countless flocks of sheep, with Brahui families, and all their goods and chattels, moving either to or from their summer homes. This patriarchal life of the Brahuis possesses charms of its own, as they are always in search of a pleasant climate, and leave a spot as soon as it becomes uncomfortable. Thus they prefer the plains in the cold weather, the hills in the hot; and whenever they meet with satisfactory grazing grounds, they pitch their black tents and make themselves a temporary home. As we were passing on our road to Dadar I observed that the bajra and jawár crops, which were very promising before, had been destroyed by the locusts.

16. Kundelani, 11 miles. Oct. 26th. This and the next stage are justly considered the "mauvais pas " of the Bolan. "It is not so much a pass over a lofty range of mountains as a succession of ravines and gorges, commencing near Dadar, and first winding among the subordinate ridges stretching eastward from the Hala chain of mountains, the brow of which it finally cross-cuts, and thus gives access from the vast plains of Hindustan to the elevated and uneven tracts extending from the Hindu Kush to the vicinity of the Indian Ocean. The elevation of its entrance is about 800 feet above the level of the sea, and that of its outlet at the western extremity 5700 feet. There is no descent on the western side, as the road opens on the Dasht-i-Bedaulat, a plain as high as the top of the pass. The total length is about fifty miles." The first few miles offered no difficulty in walking, and thus the entrance of the pass is reached, consisting of a ravine, with low hills on either side, and a stream winding its way between them. The stony bed of this stream is the road up the pass, which is practicable only when the water is low. We had to cross the water eleven times, and found the sharp-pointed pebbles very trying to the bare feet. We encamped

at a high spot with a "chowkey," consisting of a small mud tower for a watchman. About half a mile further on is a fine large pool, from which a rock shoots up steep and sharp. Here we bathed, and I caught a fish called "murrel," and another called a mahser," with a little paste for bait. The latter are well known to all who ply the rod in the Panjab; both are good eating, and easily caught with a fly.

17. Kirta, 12 miles. Oct. 27th. We had to cross the river nine times to-day; the water sometimes up to our knees, but generally quite shallow. I found great advantage in wearing "chaplis," or native sandals, both on account of the ease to the feet in walking over stones, and the convenience with which they can be slipped on and off in crossing water. After four miles' march the light came gradually into the narrow valleys, shut in by somewhat precipitous rocks, which afford excellent shade long after sunrise. From the narrow gorge you then emerge into a broader one, and the path runs parallel with the water, instead of crossing it. Following the line of telegraph through another valley, a rapid turn to the left leads over stony ground, through a broad plain to the camping-ground, five miles distant. Kirta is a wretched little village by the water, with a few "bher" trees, under which I pitched my tent. Clouds of dust blowing all day reduced everything to a uniform colour. The Bolan Pass is disappointing to any one who looks for fine scenery. It cannot compare with either of the Swiss passes. The river-bed is the only road, and following this one ascends almost unconsciously for sixty miles without a single dip. As the summit of the Bolan is not more than 7000 feet above the sea, the ascent is very gradual. Ordinarily there is very little water in the Bolan River, but after heavy rains the consequences might be serious to travellers on the march or halt in any of the narrower valleys. During the former campaign it is said that a squadron of Skinner's Horse was suddenly overtaken in the middle of the pass by the rising flood, and that men and horses were swept away and drowned.

At Kirta I was attacked by a hornet, whose sting, superadded to an already troublesome boil, caused inconvenience for some days.

18. Bibi Nāni, 8 miles. Oct. 28th. An easy march of three hours. No village or supplies. At this, as well as at the last halting-place, good fish may be got from the river.

19. Much, 13 miles. Oct. 29th. A very heavy and trying march over shingle like the sea-shore in which the foot sinks at every step. Sometimes a shorter march of nine miles is made to a place on the road called Ab-iGum; but as we had no supplies for the regiment we could not halt. We passed a large company of horse-dealers from Kandahar, on their way to Jacobabad, with a cafila of horses for sale. Their camels were laden with fruits, and we found some water-melons very refreshing. At Much there is a telegraph station and store for supplies. The camping-ground is, as usual, in the bed of the river, which here is much narrower. Here we noticed a perceptible difference in the atmosphere, and the coolness of the air was a great relief.

20. Sir-i-Bolan, 5 miles. Oct. 30th. A short and easy march. The camels suffer much for want of their accustomed fodder, which cannot be obtained in the pass. Nine of them broke down yesterday. The encampment is close to the source of the Bolan River, where it gushes out of the rock in a plentiful cascade. The elevation here is said to be 4000 feet above the sea.

21. Darwazo, 13 miles.

Oct. 31st. A long march, with more rapid

ascent to the top of the pass by stony and winding ravines, sometimes branching off to right and left. It is not difficult to lose the way, as subsequent experience proved, for the colonel of a regiment in rear was taken. up one of these ravines by his dooly-bearers, and lost to his regiment for the rest of the day. A guide is necessary; but although alone, and considerably in advance of my party, I was guided by the long string of Brahuis whom I met descending from their villages with their families, camels, and flocks to their winter pastures on the plains below. Their squalid appearance confirmed the reports of the ravages of fever in the Quetta Valley amongst Natives and Europeans alike. Near the head of the pass a short cut to the right under the telegraph still leads through a valley near a steep "kotal" or ridge, to the "Dasht" plain, saving two miles. Before reaching the "kotal" the road seems, by a curious optical illusion, to descend, while in reality there is a continued ascent.

The upper Bolan is more picturesque than the lower, and has some fine wild olive-trees, with stems at least 2 feet in diameter. I observed many partridges of three sorts-the red-legged, the grey, and the small variety called "susi." The last ridge commands an extensive view of surrounding hill-tops, enclosing a little plain called the Dasht-ba-dowlat Plain, with a post and telegraph station in the distance. It was, alas! here that a cowardly and murderous attack was made by some ruffians, in 1842, upon the wife of a conductor named Smith, who was travelling alone in the pass. She defended herself bravely, but was killed by her wretched assailants. The plain of the Dasht is covered with tufts of low bad grass, which seems to derive no nourishment at this season from the soil. The keen blasts of wind which sweep across the desert in the winter are fatal alike to man and beast.

22. Quetta, 23 miles. Nov. 1. A tedious march of sixteen miles to Sir-i-Ab, which is lower than the Dasht plain. The track, which is stony and rough, crosses the undulations of a spur of hills, and then gains the Quetta plain. Sir-i-Ab is a small village inhabited by Brahuis in the summer, but deserted in the winter. Here I recognized a link with Persia, in the method of irrigation employed by the cultivators. They tap the foot of a hill where water is likely to be near the surface by digging a well. Having found the water, they turn it on to the plain by an underground channel, often miles in length, with shafts or air-holes at intervals of about fifty yards. At length the stream emerges, and is turned into channels over the fields wherever it is required. The underground channel, called here karēz and in Persia kanāt, has the great advantage of keeping the water cool in the hot weather and preventing its waste by evaporation. It supersedes also the laborious process of raising the water from wells by wheels or levers, as in India.

The regiment halted the night at Sir-i-Ab, as the baggage camels could not do a double march. I therefore proceeded alone for the remainder of the journey (seven miles), and reached Quetta by sunset. The country and scenery bear a striking resemblance to Persia. The little village, with its fort, lies at the end of a plain, shut in by hills of from 11,000 to 12,000 feet. A few small groves of fruit-trees served to enliven, with their autumn tints, the barrenness of its surroundings. But everything had a charm after the fatigues of the Bolan, and Quetta was welcomed as the terminus to a dreary march on foot of 310 miles in twenty-four days. Bread was a treat after tough chupatties, charpoys seemed a luxury after the hard ground, and no midnight bugle broke one's slumbers. But for the Bolan, Quetta would be