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Having discovered, by yesterday's experience, that nature abhors a vacuum, and no apples being forthcoming at Lamieroo, we halted for breakfast at the village of Kulchee. Here I tried hard to purchase a curiously contrived praying-wheel from an old Lama, but without success.
Descended from Lamieroo through a precipitous pass for about three kos and a half, to Kulchee, a tidy little village of fifteen huts, situated in an oasis of apricot and walnut-trees, the first we had encountered since leaving Cashmere.
A cut-glass lantern and the label of a bottle of cherry-brandy in particular, seemed to them the very essence of the rare and curious, and they seemed never tired of admiring them. After breakfast we again took the road, and marched three kos to another little wooded settlement, called Nurila, situated, like Kulchee, upon the Indus, or, as it is here called, the Attock.
My old acquaintance, the gopa, however, brought me one for sale, but it was in such a dilapidated state, and so highly valued as church property, that I let him keep his shaky religious curiosity at his own price. Leaving Kulchee, we crossed the Indus at a mud fort, and bid the roaring, dirty river a final good-bye.
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