The Moon differed from an ordinary house-boat in being narrower, and possessing a long bow and stern which projected far enough from the body of the boat to enable men to pole or paddle with ease; a house-boat can only be towed.  On embarking by means of a narrow gangway—­a plank possessed of an uncontrollable desire to “tip-up” at unexpected and disconcerting moments—­one entered first a small vestibule, or “ante-cabin,” which held our big boxes and opened into the drawing-room—­quite a roomy apartment, about fifteen feet by ten feet, fitted with a fireplace, a rough writing-table, and overmantel, surmounted by a photograph—­something faded—­of Mrs. Langtry!  A small table and a couple of deck chairs graced the floor, while upon the walls a heterogeneous collection of pictures, including a coloured lithograph of a cottage and a brook, a fearful and wonderful portrayal of an otter, and a very fancy stag of unlimited points dazzled the eye.  The ceiling was decorated with an elaborate and most effective design in wood—­a fashion very common in Srinagar, consisting of a sort of patchwork panelling of small pieces of wood, cut to length and shape, and tacked on to a backing in geometrical designs.  At a little distance the effect is rich and excellent, but close inspection shows up the tintacks and the glue, and a prying finger penetrates the solid-looking panel with perfect ease.

The drawing-room was separated from the dining “saloon” by a sliding door—­which frequently refused to slide at all, or else perversely slid so suddenly as to endanger finger-tips and cause unseemly words to flow.  This noble apartment of elegant dimensions (to borrow the undefiled English of the house-agent) could contain four feasters at a pinch.  Sabz Ali having cooked the dinner, the cook-boat was laid alongside, and Sabz Ali, clambering in and out of the window, proceeded to serve the repast, a black paw, presumably belonging to Ayata, the kitchenmaid-man, appearing from time to time to retrieve the soiled plates or hand up the next course.

A funny little sideboard and cupboard contained a slender stock of knives, forks, and glasses, and part of a broken-down dinner set, while the fireplace easily held three dozen of soda-water.

Then came Jane’s bedroom, fitted with a cupboard and shelves, which were a constant source of covetousness to me, who had none.  A small bathroom completed our suite of apartments, and, after the bare boards of the Cruiser, the Moon seemed to overflow with luxury.

We have been taking life easily here for the last week.  The Smithsons intend going into Tilail as soon as the Tragbal becomes feasible; we propose to remain in Srinagar for a while.  The weather has not been very fine—­cold winds and a good deal of rain, varied by thunderstorms, being our daily experience.  The spring is, I am told, exceptionally backward, and, although the almond is in full and lovely flower, the poplars and chenars are barely showing a sign of life.