A Peep into Toorkisthhan | Page 5

as
you approach nearer and nearer you find your enchanting gardens
transformed into a dreary and desolate defile,--this succession of small
plots of fertile ground, alternating with short rugged passes, extends to
Julrez, ten miles beyond Koteah Shroof; which latter place is an
insignificant fort, situated in the centre of one of the little green spots
so pleasingly varying this part of the country.
At Koteah Shroof we gained the banks of the Cabul river, a placid
flowing stream, and as the neighbourhood of our camp did not offer
any features of peculiar interest, I determined to try my luck in fishing;
but first I had to tax my ingenuity for implements, as I had neither rod,
line, nor net. A willow stick and a bit of string was all I could
command; and yet my primitive apparatus was very successful, for the
fish also were primitive, affording me ample sport and taking the bait
with extraordinary eagerness. My occupation attracted the attention of a
few peasants who gathered round me, and stood wondering what potent
charm attached to the string could entice the fish from their native
element. I endeavoured to explain the marvel, but was utterly
unsuccessful; indeed, the peasants did not accept my explanation,

which they evidently considered as a fabrication invented to deceive
them and conceal my supernatural powers. The inhabitants of these
valleys seemed a simple and inoffensive race, and, as in Europe, their
respectful demeanour became more conspicuous as we increased our
distance from the capital.
With regard to the state of cultivation of this valley--in which it
resembles others generally throughout Affghanistan--wherever there is
soil enough to hold the seed, the Affgh[=a]n husbandman appears to
make the most of it. We found here and there in profusion the pear,
apple, cherry, mulberry, and luxuriant vine, and in some situations
wheat, with an under-crop of clover.
On the 17th we proceeded to Julrez, a collection of wretched hovels of
no interest, and on the 18th, after a march of ten miles through a
succession of valleys and defiles, we reached the Kuzzilbash fort,
Suffaed Kulla. About two miles before we arrived at our encamping
ground we passed near the Sir-e-chusm or "fountain head," one of the
sources of the Cabul river; it is a large pool stocked with a multitude of
enormous fish that are held sacred by the few inhabitants of the
adjoining hamlets, and which are daily fed by an aged fanatic, who for
many years has devoted himself to their protection. As it would be
deemed in the highest degree sacrilegious to eat any of these monsters,
they are never molested, and are so tame as to come readily to the hand
when offered food. Of course, my necessary compliance with the
prejudices of the guardian of the fish prevented the exercise of my
Waltonian propensities.
A little further on is a remarkable bourj or _watch-tower_ isolated on a
projecting rock, and supposed to have been built for the purpose of
giving the chiefs of the little plain below, when at variance with the
neighbouring mountaineers, notice of the approaching invader. At this
point the valley is extremely narrow, being almost choked up with huge
masses of rock hurled by the violence of some convulsion of nature
from the sides of the impending precipices.
There are several minor forts in the vicinity of Suffaed Kulla, which is
the largest, and is at present occupied by a Kuzzilbash chief, who took

advantage a few years ago of the temporary absence of its rightful
owner, and acting upon the principle of "might makes right," possessed
himself forcibly of it, and has held it ever since. He treated us with
great kindness and attention, sending us most acceptable presents of
fruit, with food for our followers and cattle.
We here experienced to a great degree that remarkable daily variation
of temperature so peculiar to these regions: in the gully the wind was
bleak and cold, but when encamped under the shelter of the fort the
heat from the sun's rays reflected from the smooth surface of the bare
rock was so intense that the thermometer rose to 100 of Fahrenheit.
While in camp at Cabul I frequently experienced the same rapid change,
for it would sometimes be a hard frost at day-break and an Indian
summer heat at mid-day.
On the 19th of June we started very early, as the tremendous Oonnye
pass rising to the height of 11,400 feet lay before us, and we had a full
ten miles march ere we could reach our proposed halting place at the
village of Uart. We soon entered the mouth of the pass, which was girt
on either side by magnificent precipices; the road was narrow and
slippery--of course without even an apology for a parapet--running
along