The Heart of Nature

yet has penetrated: where no life at all exists-no tree, no simplest plant, no humblest animalcula; where, save for some rugged precipice too steep for snow to lie, and save also

drone of the smallest insect, and is disturbed only by the occasional thunder of an avalanche or the grindi

cold, stern beauty. It lies at the dividing line between India and Central Asia where the waters which flow to India are parted from the waters which flow to Central Asia, and where the Indian and Chinese Empires touch one another. It may be approached from two dir

s run strong and there is no room or level for lakes. In Kashmir the main valley is from twenty to thirty miles broad and ninety miles l

he temperate zone-the stately deodar cedars, spruce fir, maples, walnut, sycamore, and birch; while in the valley itself grow poplars, willows, mulberries, and

yellow with mustard; and the village-borders purple with iris; or in the autumn when the chenars, the poplars, and apricots are turning to every tint of red and yellow and purple, Kashmir is in a glow of colour. And the famous Valley is all the more beautiful because it is ringed rou

t and soothing. It is a land to dream of, a gentle and indulgent land of soft repose, and calm content, and quiet relax

row, and the mountain-sides are steep, but the valleys are not so narrow nor the sides so steep as the valleys of Sikkim, nor are the forests anything like so dense. The scenery is, indeed, much more Swiss in appeara

e moisture-laden clouds have precipitated themselves upon the seaward-facing slopes of the mountains we have already passed through. And because of this lack of rainfall the valleys are not cut out deep, but are high and broad. It is a delightful experience

d reminds us that we have to prepare ourselves to face beauties of a far sterner kind. So we insensibly alter our whole attitude o

nearly 19,000 feet in height. We are six hundred miles from the plains of India now, and in about as desolate a region as the world contains. Then, bearing westward, we make for the Aghil Pass. We have now got right in behind the Himalaya

pinnacles of ice glistening in the brilliant sunshine, showing up in clearest definition against the intense blue sky, and rising abruptly an

have before us one of the great sights of the world-something unique and apart, something the like of which we shall never see again. And awed as we are by the mountains' unsurpassed magnificence, we do not bow down in any abject way before them. We are not impressed by our littleness in comparison. They have, indeed, shown us that the world is something greater than we knew. But they have shown us also that we too are something greater than we kn

50 feet in height, which must be somewhere in the neighbourhood. But the investigations of the Duke of the Abruzzi throw a doubt as to whether this can be K2 itself. If it is not, it must be some unfixed and unnamed peak. At any rate it is a magnificent, upstand

. As we ascend right up the glacier-either the one coming down from the Mustagh Pass or the one to the east running parallel with the general line of the Karakoram Range-we feel not only far away from but also high above the rest of the world. And we se

ck appears. The glacier-filled valley below and the mountain above are therefore almost purely white. The atmosphere, too, is marvellously clear, so that by day the mountains and glaciers glitter brightly in the sunshine, and at night the stars shine out wi

ty of Kashmir. No one would come here for repose and holiday. But we like to have been th

to meet them, so that we are in a peculiarly alert, observant mood. And we have a secret jo

y are encircled by miniature cliffs of ice of transparent green. The blue-ness of the sky is of a depth only seen in the highest regions. And the snowy summi

any human being. From deep within the interior of the earth they have arisen. And they are only touched by the whitest snowflakes. They are only touched by snowflakes fashioned from the moisture which the sun's ra

they have to be pure. In the spotless purity of that region they cannot harbour any thought that is sordid or unclean. And they pray that ever after they may maintain what they have reached. For they know that if they could maintain it the

emselves in a great Presence, and in a Presence with which they are most intimately in touch. And it is no dread Presence, but one which they delight to feel