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Beyond a tank teeming with sacred fishes, there appeared nothing whatever to be seen here. Taking warning from this, we thought it not worth while proceeding to Bamazoo, where we were told there were caves; but, treating the fishes to a small coin's worth of Indian maize, we retraced our steps and diverged about a kos off the Islamabad road to Pandau.
In the evening we started again for Sirinugger. Found ourselves, according to sailing directions, at anchor this morning, or in other words, tied to an upright stick, at Wentipore, on the left bank of the river, where there were some old ruins to be seen. The architecture we found very similar to the Pandau temple.
Having a long and up-hill march before us, we were up and dressed by moonlight. Outside the village, we came upon two curious old stones, standing about six feet high, upright, and carved in the way we had already seen at the ruins of Pandau and elsewhere. These stones were of irregular form, and carved on three sides, and the designs, though much worn, were distinctly traceable.
The corner stones here alone pointed out the position of the cloisters, which at Pandau had been in very fair preservation. About fifty yards from the entrance there were three columns of different form, sunk in the ground, their capitals just reaching a little below the surface, and connected by trefoil arches, all in pretty good preservation.
This interpretation, however satisfactory to ourselves, was apparently not so to the Q.M.G., and to his dying day he will probably remain rather doubtful of the kind of company we kept that night. At sunrise I paid another visit to the ruins of Pandau, or Martund, and sketched it from the north-east; a view which took in the only columns of any perfection that remained standing.
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