Journey to Lhasa and Central Tibet E-Book

Sarat Chandra Das

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• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 524

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

On the night of my departure from Darjiling, the moon was shining brightly, though some dark clouds presaged a slight fall of rain. Our eyes often turned with anxiety towards the mountain-tops on the eastern outskirts of Nepal, to see if snow was falling on them; and the fear of death in the snows and the hope of overcoming the obstacles of nature alternated within me as I left my home in Darjiling, soon to bid a long farewell to my native land, with but faint hope that I would ever see it again.

Leseprobe

Journey to Lhasa and Central Tibet

Journey to Lhasa and Central TibetINTRODUCTION.CHAPTER I.CHAPTER II.CHAPTER III.CHAPTER IV.CHAPTER V.CHAPTER VI.CHAPTER VII.CHAPTER VIII.CHAPTER IX.CHAPTER X.CHAPTER XI.Copyright

Journey to Lhasa and Central Tibet

Sarat Chandra Das

INTRODUCTION.

Sarat Chandra Das was born in the town of Chittagong, in Eastern Bengal, in 1849, in a Hindu family of thevaidya, or medical caste. He received his education in the Presidency College at Calcutta, where he became favourably known to Sir Alfred Croft, the present Director of Public Instruction of Bengal, who ever since has been his friend and guide in his geographical and literary work, and by whose representations to the Indian Government it became possible for him to perform his important journeys into Tibet.While still in the engineering department of the college he was appointed in 1874 head master of the Bhutia Boarding School, just opened at Darjiling by order of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, Sir George Campbell. Sarat Chandra at once applied himself with characteristic energy to the study of the Tibetan language, and established friendly relations with the Raja of Sikkim and many of the leading lamas in that country, to which he made several short trips in the succeeding years.In 1878, lama Ugyen-gyatso, who was attached to his school as Tibetan teacher, was sent to Tashilhunpo and Lhasa with tribute from his monastery, and advantage was taken of this opportunity to ascertain whether permission could not be obtained from the Tibetan authorities for Sarat Chandra to visit Tibet. The lama was so fortunate as to obtain from the Prime Minister of the Panchen rinpoche of Tashilhunpo an invitation for Sarat Chandra to visit that great centre of lamaist learning, of which George Bogle and Samuel Turner have left us such interesting descriptions; and, so as further to insure his safety and justify his presence in the country in the eyes of the suspicious lamas and Chinese, the Minister had the Babu’s name entered as a student of theology in the Grand Monastery of that[vi]place. A passport was also brought Sarat Chandra by the lama, issued to him by the Prime Minister, by which a choice of roads to enter Tibet was given him, and his safe conduct insured to Shigatse.Armed with these credentials, Sarat Chandra set out for Tashilhunpo in June, 1879, accompanied by lama Ugyen-gyatso, and there he remained for nearly six months, the guest of the Prime Minister, with whose assistance he was able to make a careful examination of the rich collections of books in the great libraries of the convent, bringing back with him to India a large and valuable collection of works in Sanskrit and Tibetan. He also explored during this journey the country north and north-east of Kanchanjinga, of which nothing was previously known, noting with great care observations of bearing and distances. Not the least valuable result of this journey was, however, the friendly relations which the traveller was able to establish with the liberal and powerful Prime Minister, who, deeply interested in western civilization and its wonderful discoveries, of which he had learned much from the mouth of Sarat Chandra, requested him to come back again to Tashilhunpo, to instruct him further in the wonders of the west.An account of this first journey was printed by the Bengal Government some time after the author’s return, with a prefatory note by the traveller’s friend, Sir Alfred Croft. As the route therein described is the same as that followed by the traveller in his second and more extended journey of 1881–82, and as the results of his studies in Tibet in 1879, as shown in this report, bear nearly exclusively on historical and religious subjects, it has been deemed advisable to omit it from the present publication, embodying in footnotes all such details as have been found in it bearing on the geography and ethnology of Tibet, and which are not in the later and fuller report.The year 1880 was passed by Sarat Chandra at his home in Darjiling, working on papers on the history, religion, ethnology, and folk-lore of Tibet, drawn from the data collected during his journey. These papers, most of them of great value to Oriental students, have since appeared in theJournalof the Bengal Asiatic Society and in that of the Buddhist Text Society of India, which Sarat Chandra founded in 1892, and of which he has since remained the secretary.[vii]In November, 1881, in fulfilment of the promise previously made to the Prime Minister of the Panchen rinpoche, Sarat Chandra started on his second journey to Tibet, again accompanied by Ugyen-gyatso, who acted as secretary, collector, and surveyor, though much of the later work, including the extremely important survey of Lake Palti (Yamdo tso), was done by the traveller himself. Sarat Chandra again established his headquarters at Tashilhunpo, whence he made various excursions along both banks of the great Tsangpo, from Sakya in the west to Samye and Tse-tang in the east. He was also so fortunate as to be able to make a short visit to Lhasa, which had only been done twice by native explorers prior to his time, once in 1866 by Nain Singh, and again in 1880 by Kishen Singh, the latter making a detailed map of the whole city and its environs. He was present at an audience of the Tale lama, and visited a number of the important monuments of the city; but for various reasons, especially of a prudential nature, he was prevented from seeing many places of great interest in and around the city; but his valuable notes are a most important addition to the descriptions left us by previous travellers.After this brief visit to the capital of Tibet, Sarat Chandra explored the valley of the Yalung, where Tibetan civilization is said to have first made its appearance, gathering everywhere, with the usual thoroughness which distinguishes his work, valuable information concerning each locality traversed. In January, 1883, he re-entered India after an absence of about fourteen months.The report of this journey was printed in two separate publications by order of the Government of Bengal. They are entitled, “Narrative of a Journey to Lhasa,” and “Narrative of a Journey Round Lake Palti (Yamdok), and in Lhokha, Yarlung, and Sakya.” For various reasons these reports were kept as strictly confidential documents by the Indian Government until about 1890, when selections from them, bearing exclusively upon the ethnology of Tibet, however, appeared in an article in the July number of theContemporary Review, and five years later further extracts from them were published in the August number of theNineteenth Century. It is these reports which, with only such slight modifications as have[viii]seemed absolutely necessary to make the narrative connected, are published in the present volume.In 1885, when the Government of India contemplated sending a mission to Tibet, and the late Honourable Colman Macauley was sent by it to Peking to obtain the necessary authorization of the Chinese Government to the projected embassy, Sarat Chandra accompanied him to the Chinese capital, where he remained several months in the early part of the year. It was during this visit to Peking that I became acquainted with the Babu, to whom I felt strongly drawn by my lifelong interest in Tibetan studies. Sarat Chandra lived, while at Peking, in the lamasery outside the An-ting gate, known as the Hsi Huang ssu, and in which all Tibetan traders stop when at Peking. He wore the dress common to lamas in China, and was always called the “Ka-che lama,” or “the lama from Kashmir.” His knowledge of Tibetan, his extensive travels, and his courteous manners gained for him the friendship of many of the lamas, among others of the Chang-chia Hutuketu, the Metropolitan of the lama church in China. Had the mission ever been sent to Tibet, it was understood that Sarat Chandra was to accompany it, and he would have rendered it valuable service; but the project was abandoned, and since then the Babu has bent all his energies to the publication of Tibetan texts and to the preparation of other works on Buddhism while living in Darjiling, where he holds the position of Tibetan translator to the Government of Bengal.The services he rendered Mr. Macauley while in Peking were deemed, however, of such value by the Indian Government, that on his return to Bengal he was given the title of Rai Bahadur, and created a Companion of the Order of the Indian Empire, and in 1887 the Royal Geographical Society awarded him the “Back Premium” for his geographical researches.The amount of literary work accomplished by Sarat Chandra since his return from Tibet in 1883 is enormous in bulk, and its value to students cannot be over-estimated. He brought back with him from his travels over two hundred volumes, manuscripts or block-prints, obtained from the great libraries in Tibet, a number of them in Sanskrit, and for many centuries past lost in India. From these[ix]sources he has drawn for the preparation of the valuable papers which he has since published, a list of which would occupy several pages. Besides a large number of translations into English of Tibetan texts, he has edited in Sanskrit for the ‘Bibliotheca Indica’ Kshemendra’s poem, entitled “Avadana Kalpalata,” which he was so fortunate as to discover in Lhasa, and in Tibetan an historical work of great value, another giving the history of the pre-Buddhist or Bon religion of Tibet, a very valuable native grammatical work, and others too numerous to mention. He is now engaged, and has well on through the press, a Tibetan-English dictionary, which, he tells me, will be of about two thousand pages, exclusive of a Sanskrit-English appendix of Buddhist terms.This brief notice of Sarat Chandra’s literary work will suffice, however, to show that his labours in this field are as important as those which he has rendered to geography. Personally, I am under a lasting debt of gratitude to him for the valuable information which he gave me while in Peking, and which was later on of great use to me during my explorations in Tibet, and I hold myself particularly fortunate in having been chosen by the Royal Geographical Society to edit his reports, as it is a means of publicly expressing my indebtedness to him, and also, I trust, of helping him to take the place he so justly deserves beside Csoma de Kőrös, as one of the greatest pioneers of exploration and discovery in Tibet.This introductory note would not be complete if further reference were not made to the Babu’s faithful companion and assistant in his two journeys to Tibet, lama Ugyen-gyatso. The lama, who is a Tibetan from Sikkim and connected with the reigning family of that State, was born in 1851 at Yangang, and at the age of ten entered the lamasery of Pema-yangtse, where he took the usual course of monastic studies for twelve years. In 1873 he visited, for the first time, Darjiling in the suite of the Raja of Sikkim, and a little later on in the same year he was designated by that Prince, and at the request of the Deputy-Commissioner, Mr. Edgar, to fill the post of Tibetan teacher at the Bhutia school at Darjiling, which it was proposed to open. For a time the lama was employed in the office of the Deputy-Commissioner, and accompanied that officer on a visit to[x]Sikkim. In 1874 he entered upon his duties as teacher in the school, and continued there until 1878, when he went to Tibet, as previously noted, to bear tribute from his lamasery to the heads of the church. During the lama’s residence at Darjiling he had been instructed in the use of such surveying instruments as it is customary for the trans-frontier surveyors to use, and the accurate work which he did during his various journeys bears witness to the thoroughness with which he was instructed and to his own ability. From this journey of 1878, the lama brought back with him the passport which enabled Chandra Das to make his two journeys to Tibet, in both of which he accompanied him, rendering him everywhere true and valuable service.The discovery by Sarat Chandra in 1882 of the true dimensions and shape of Lake Palti,1seemed to Sir Alfred Croft so important that in June, 1883, he despatched the lama to cover the same ground in order to check off, verify, and complete the survey of the Babu. This he successfully did, adding only to the latter’s work a small portion to the south-east of the lake, but establishing the great accuracy of the previous survey. He also explored the Lhobrak (Manas) valley, and again visited Lhasa, returning to India by way of the Tang la and Chumbi valley, and reaching Darjiling in December of the same year. A report of this work was prepared by Colonel, now Sir Thomas, Holdich, and appeared in the “Report of the Explorations in Sikkim, Bhutan, and Tibet from 1856 to 1886,” which was published in 1889 by the Trigonometrical Survey of India, and is frequently quoted in the notes to the present narrative.Since then the lama, whose services have been rewarded by the Indian Government with the title of Rai Bahadur, a silver medal and a grant of money, has been employed as chief Tibetan translator to Government, serving in that capacity during the late Sikkim expedition, and has also given valuable assistance to Sarat Chandra in editing Tibetan texts.W. W. ROCKHILL.Block Island, U.S.A.,July 27, 1899.2[xi]1Sarat Chandra has, in honour of Sir Alfred Croft, named the lake Yamdo Croft. SeeJourn. Buddh. Text Soc., iv. pt. iii. p. iv.↑2The publication of this volume has been unavoidably delayed.↑MAP SHOWING THE ROUTES OF SARAT CHANDRA DAS THROUGH SIKKIM AND TIBET 1879 AND 1882

CHAPTER I.

JOURNEY FROM DARJILING TO TASHILHUNPO.November 7, 1881.—On the night of my departure from Darjiling,1the moon was shining brightly, though some dark clouds presaged a slight fall of rain. Our eyes often turned with anxiety towards the mountain-tops on the eastern outskirts of Nepal, to see if snow was falling on them; and the fear of death in the snows and the hope of overcoming the obstacles of nature alternated within me as I left my home in Darjiling, soon to bid a long farewell to my native land, with but faint hope that I would ever see it again.I rode on silently, and, to my great relief, unnoticed by any one, save one or two Bhutias on their way towards Darjiling, and in the stillness of the night we could hear the songs of the workwomen of Takvar and the music of their pipes and drums. Coming to the river, which was rather broad at this season of the year, I met lama Ugyen-gyatso, who was waiting to help me across. Three or four bamboos loosely laid over the main stream enabled us to cross, though with some difficulty, and with the help of an intelligent Bhutia attendant I was able to push on over the narrow slippery path till half-past one, when I reached Gok, now a deserted village, where, in place of the dozen shops and pretty Buddhist shrine which formerly marked the place, I found but a cow-shed where a Nepali was snoring fast asleep. It was here that the up-country grain-sellers used to come to buy large quantities of Indian corn and cardamom seed to resell in the Darjiling bazar.[2]Spreading our rugs in the long grass near the cow-shed, we tried to rest for a while; but what with the unevenness of the ground, insects creeping over me, the prickly points of brambles and weeds penetrating the thin rug on which I lay, and a shower of rain which wetted us through, we could get no sleep, so we started again at four in the morning. The path, hardly a foot broad, was choked with weeds and long grass. Lighting my lantern, I followed Phurchung, my shot-gun tied across the top of the load he carried, and with many a slip and tumble we reached the valley of the Rummam at daybreak.November 8.—The Rummam, one of the principal feeders of the Great Rungit, rises in the Singli mountains, and forms the boundary between British territory and independent Sikkim on the north-west, all the country to the right (south) of it belonging to the former Government. We found it a raging torrent, and only spanned by a light footbridge of bamboo poles resting on a huge boulder in the middle of the stream, and held down by rocks. The Lepchas and Limbus catch fish, sometimes of considerable size, in the cold season in the pools in the river-bed, which the former sell in the Darjiling bazar.Saltrees were abundant, and on the hill-slopes we saw cardamom and cotton now ready to be picked. On the larger patches of cultivation, guards were stationed in bamboo watch-houses to scare away the monkeys and bears with bamboo clappers. I was told that a large species of monkeys, besides the small variety of which we saw a few, are found in this valley, and that they are a terror to the peasants and to solitary female travellers.2To kill these the Lepchas use dogbane and other poisonous roots, which they mix with cooked edible roots or rice.On nearing the bridge, we fell in with some twenty men carrying oranges to Darjiling, but I was fortunately able to pass by unnoticed. After a short rest, during which I had some breakfast, and changed my Indian dress for a Tibetan one, we resumed our journey uphill, leaving the Mitogang road on our right. Antelope and wild goat abound hereabout, but the villagers shoot but little: they are so poor[3]that they have hardly a dozen matchlocks among them all. Nepalese settlers are numerous here, and I noticed some Brahmans and Chetris who live chiefly by selling milk and butter. We passed several paddy fields made on terraces along the hillsides, where ploughs drawn by bullocks were used; but the Bhutias neither terrace the hillsides nor do they use ploughs, but keep to their time-honoured implements, hoes and clubs (in) of oak, by which they get but scanty returns. The Limbus3till the ground for three consecutive years, and then leave it fallow for three, when the weeds are cut and burnt, and it is again put under cultivation.After ascending several hills by steep paths, we came to the top of a ridge marked by amendongand achorten,4and from whence a picturesque view of the valley of Dhuramdien, dotted with numerous houses, and of the surrounding country is obtained. This spot is calledMani-daraby the Pahirias, andChorten-gangby the Bhutias, both names meaning “the ridge of the sacredstupa.” Here we halted by the side of a rill, and purchased two bottles ofmurwabeer5and vegetables from some Limbus.November 9.—Our way led along an easy path by Limbu houses with sheepfolds and pigsties in front of them, and around which a few goats and cows were also seen. The Limbu fowls, by the way, are not so large as those of the Bhutias. As I journeyed on we talked of some of the Limbu6customs, the most remarkable of which is that[4]of beating drums on every trivial occasion. Every Limbu family, be it poor or rich, possesses, as a rule, three or four tambourine-shaped drums, which they beat on going out of or returning to their villages. The wife or children beat them in honour of the husband when he goes out, and the latter when he leaves the house.Crossing the range we entered a richer country, as was evidenced by the vegetation and the abundance of trees. We saw long canes growing luxuriantly, and there was quite a large grove of plantation trees, showing the warm climate the country enjoys.November 10.—The sky was cloudy and the atmosphere filled with fog when we set out. Along the banks of the streams we had to cross grew tall pines and giant ferns, while thick brushwood, ferns and rattans lined the banks, the water dashing down from the hill-tops in cascades. Pushing our way through the dense forests of the Hi range, the sky scarcely visible through the lofty oaks, pines and magnolias, we reached after an hour’s hard ascent the Rishi chorten, near which is a moss-coveredmendong. The Hi La commences here, and from it one commands an excellent[5]view of South-Western Sikkim, including Tonglo and Singli, and the hills of Darjiling. In the thickets roundabout were to be seen the tracks of wild pigs, and the woods were alive with monkeys which feed on acorns.At about 1 p.m. we reached the top of the range, some 6000 feet above the level of the sea. Crossing a number of brooks which empty into the Rishi, we came to some cowsheds, where I would have liked to have rested; but no rest was possible, for I could see the leeches7spanning their length with swift but measured paces, making for me with haste.At 4 p.m. we commenced our descent from the top of the ridge, which is marked by alartsé8 — here a bush of dwarf bamboos, with scraps of red cloth tied to it, near which Phurchung uttered hislha sol,9or invocation to the mountain deities. We halted for the night in a little clearing in the jungle at the foot of a gigantic oak, a few miles above the village of Lingcham. The giant nettle creeper here attains its largest growth, some more than 100 feet long. The tree nettle also abounds in this forest, and our servants found also the common nettle, the tender leaves of which make excellent soup.10November 11.—The sky was overcast, and there was rain and sunshine at the same time, a phenomenon the Bhutias callmetog-charpa, or “flowery shower.” The village of Hi, by which we passed, contains several Bhutia, Lepcha, and Limbu houses.11The latter[6]people seem to be prosperous; they cultivate rice on irrigated terraces, and use a plough drawn by buffaloes. A few hundred yards above the River Kalai (also called Kalhait) we saw cardamom patches carefully fenced. The Kalai river, which we found rapid at even this season of the year, rises in the Singli pass, and after a circuitous course of about 20 miles, empties into the great Rungit near the foot of Tashiding hill. Villages are numerous along the river for many miles; they are situated on ridges, which look like lateral ribs of a range running on either side of the Kalai from west to east, generally sending out southerly spurs.The Kalai is overhung on both sides by lofty trees growing on steep banks apparently inaccessible when looked at from the river bank. The river is bridged by two long, stout bamboos resting on a huge boulder in the middle of the stream, and weighted down with slabs of stone.In the shallow part of the stream piles have been driven to hold bamboo nets for capturing fish. This torrent is well known for its delicious fish; and we saw growing by some of the Limbu houses thena-dag-shig,12a tree, the leaves of which are used to poison fish which swarm in the stagnant pools in the river.There are five classes of priests among the Limbu people, who perform their religious and secular ceremonies. They are calledPhedangba,Bijua,Dami,Baidang, andSrijanga.13The Phedangba enjoy the privilege of conducting the religious ceremonies, and of dealing in omens and fortune-telling. The Bijua are trained to the Shamanic worship, of which fantastic dances are the characteristic feature. The third order practice witchcraft exclusively, and are said to be able to expel evil spirits through the[7]mouth. The fourth class, called Baidang, are physicians, the name Baidang being undoubtedly derived from the SanskritBaidya. The fifth, which is the most important of the five orders, has the exclusive privilege of interpreting the religious books, and of studying religious observances and rites. My informant, though a Srijanga, combined in his person the qualifications of the other four orders; hence his great reputation among the Limbus, who considered him endowed with divine attributes.Leaving the banks of the Kalai, we pushed on uphill through long grass and reed thickets, where wild pigs were numerous and the porcupine abounds.14The latter animal is said to do much harm to pulse and radish fields, and destroys a great many of the wild yams on which the people chiefly subsist. On ascending about 3000 feet above the Kalai valley, we enjoyed distant views of Pema-yangtse, Yantang, Hi, Sakyang, and other villages on the high flat ridges on either side of the Kalai and Ratong rivers, and on our right was the village of Lingcham with its orange groves and numerousmurwafields. We halted near a Limbu house, and the coolies plucked wild onions (lagog)15growing in the crevices of the rocks, with which they seasoned their curries. Thislagog, though smelling like the common garlic, is not half so strong, and gives a peculiar flavour to meat. It is said to produce coughing.November 12.—We continued to ascend by a hardly discernible trail, passing patches of Indian corn and a few miserable Limbu houses: one woman we saw was carrying a basketful of wild apricots. At 2 p.m. we reached the top of the ridge, on the furthest extremity of which to our right was the Sangnag Choiling (pronounced Changachelling) monastery, while near the path we were following was an old moss-coveredchorten.Passing through dense woods of oaks and pines, and pushing our way through thickets of tree-nettle and underbrush, we reached, after two hours, the little village of Tale, where there are some twenty houses, and around which some mares, buffaloes, pigs, and a large number of cows were feeding. The inhabitants were anxious[8]to get salt from us in exchange forchang,16for the October fall of snow had prevented the Yangpung salt dealers from reaching this place, and salt was in consequence scarce; but we had to decline their offers, as we had no more than we required ourselves.17November 13.—Our way led us through the village of Tale to the Ringbi river, a stream as rapid as the Kalai. There is a strong bamboo bridge over it, but we crossed by some bamboos laid side by side where the river was narrowest. To the north-west of the village, on a parallel ridge trending northward from the same range of hills, is the village of Nambura. We followed the stream up for 5 miles by a circuitous trail, and then crossed over again to the right bank, a little below Nambura. The path led along the side of a cliff, and we had great difficulty in making our way along its slippery side, placing our feet in fissures of rocks and holding fast by creepers and grass. Then, following the course of the river, we ascended towards the village of Ringbi, and looking back we saw Tale, Nambura, and many other villages perched high up on the mountain sides several thousand feet above us.Passing under a huge rock, below which the stream had cut gullies, we crossed over by means of bamboos and wooden ladders. Looking up once I saw some stuffed pheasants and a Tibetan shirt of red cloth hidden in a fissure of the rock, evidently by some bird-shikaris. Birds of various hues, especially several varieties of pheasants, abound in these woods, which are frequented byshikariswho earn a livelihood by selling stuffed birds at Darjiling.A mile further on we came to the village of Ringbi,18situated in a beautiful plain, behind which rose cragged rocks; to the north and east the Ringbi river roared far down below us. The wild plantain, a gigantic rattan, and numerous pines and oaks covered the hills on the other side of the torrent. There are here a half-dozen houses inhabited by Limbus, who raise rice, Indian corn, murwa, and other varieties of millet.As soon as Phurchung had laid his load on the ground, he ran off to the house of an acquaintance to buy for me some bottles of[9]beer, and presently returned with three, of which he well knew one would be given him. Our tent was pitched on the flat near the river, and my rugs being spread, I stretched myself at my ease, forgetting the fatigues of the journey. The servants had dispersed, some to collect firewood, some to pick edible wild plants, others to buy vegetables for our evening meal—nothing broke the silence save the sound of the rushing torrent below. I slept soundly, my mind more occupied with the future than the past.A KIRATI WOMAN OF THE LIMBU TRIBE.November 14.—The morning was clear, the view on all sides superb, and, though familiar with mountain scenery, my eye never tired of its wild grandeur. We waited and waited for hours for[10]Phurchung, whom I had sent to Nambura to buy provisions; but, as he had not appeared by noon, we had to give up all thoughts of travelling that day. In the afternoon he made his appearance, loaded with rice, maize, murwa, eggs, vegetables, etc., and leading a ewe, which he said had cost him Rs. 4. He was very drunk, but conscious of his condition. He begged to be excused, and, after numerous salams and lollings of the tongue after the Tibetan fashion, he vanished from our sight.We were asked by the Limbus to exchange salt, of which they stood much in need, fortsuo,19a dyeing creeper which grows here in abundance, and of which they had collected many large bundles; but again we had to refuse.Phurchung much regretted that one of his best friends among the Limbus of this place had gone to a distant village to attend a marriage, for he might have rendered great assistance in many ways.The marriage customs of this people are very curious and interesting. Some among them at the time of marriage consult astrologers. When a man and a girl think of marrying, they meet, without consulting their parents, at some place—a market, if there be one near—in order to sing witty songs, in which test the man is required to excel his fair rival. If he is beaten in this contest by the maiden whose hand he covets, he runs away in deep shame at his defeat; but if he wins, he seizes her by the hand and takes her to his home without further ceremony, but usually accompanied by a female companion. If the man has had some previous knowledge of the girl’s superior attainment in singing, he sometimes bribes the maiden’s companion to declare him the winner in the singing competition.Another means of wife-winning is by courting her in the house of her parents, to which free access is readily gained by presenting the girl’s nearest relative living in the house with a pig’s carcass, a present called in their languagephudang. When the marriage ceremony takes place, the bridegroom, if rich enough, kills a buffalo or a pig, which is presented to the bride’s parents, a native coin fixed on its forehead. Among the lower people, the parents of the bride seldom know anything about the marriage till the return of the girl from her captor’s house. Then the marriage ceremony takes place. The[11]friends and relatives assemble in some spacious courtyard, each bringing a present of a basket of rice, a bottle of murwa or arrack. The bridegroom then beats a drum, to the music of which the bride dances, outsiders also taking part in the dance. This over, a Phedangba priest conducts certain religious ceremonies beginning with the followingmantra: “According to the commands handed down to us from ancient times and the doings of the patriarchs, we bind our son and daughter to-day in marriage.”As the priest repeats the formula, the bridegroom places his palm on that of the bride, holding at the same time a cock, and she a hen, which they afterwards hand over to the Phedangba. When the above formula has been recited, the fowls’ throats are cut, and they are thrown away for any one to pick up and keep, and the blood is collected on a plantain leaf, and from it omens are drawn. In another leaf is some vermilion paint, in which the bridegroom dips his middle finger, which he passes across the forehead of the priest to the tip of the bride’s nose. The bridegroom then says, “Henceforth, maiden, thou art my wife;” and shouting repeatedly, “Maiden, thou art my wife,” he puts a vermilion mark on her brow.The following morning the priest invokes some friendly spirit, and says to the newly married couple, “You two should henceforth live as husband and wife as long as you remain on this earth;” to which the parties suitably reply, “We will do as you command.” Unless this period of a lifetime is mentioned, the marriage is held to be unlucky; and to make it fortunate further ceremonies, which open new sources of profit for the priest, are considered necessary.At the marriage feast, where first murwa is served to each guest, the meat is generally pork, and finally a dish of rice is presented to every one of the party.When the marriage ceremony is over, the bride, released from her captor’s hands for the first time, returns to her parents, who are supposed to have been in ignorance of the previous proceedings. Two or three days after her return comes a go-between, orparmi,20to settle differences with the bride’s parents. He brings, as a rule, three things—a bottle of arrack, the carcass of a pig, and a silver coin, as presents to the bride’s parents. Just as he is about to make them the presents, they are bound to fly into a passion and threaten[12]to beat him, whereupon he entreats them not to do so, and tries to pacify them with the present of another rupee. Then they ask him in an angry tone, “Why did you steal away our daughter?” and such-like questions. When their anger has subsided, he pays the price of the bride, which, according to the wealth of the groom, varies from Rs. 10 to Rs. 120, or the equivalent; but in all cases a pig is an indispensable part of the price. Then a further present of usually Rs. 12, or its equivalent, is made to thesoffas(subahs) and village headmen.This present is known in Limbu asturayimbag, meaning satisfaction to the parents for stealing their daughter; and though it is really due to the bride’s parents, it is nowadays appropriated by the village officials.Like the Tibetans, the Limbus present white cottonkhatagto all who are interested in the marriage. When the time comes for delivering up the bride to theparmi, the parents must say, “Oh, our daughter is lost! She is not to be found! Some one must go and find her!” Then a couple more silver coins are paid, and one of the relatives discovers the lost bride, who has usually hidden herself in the storeroom, and she is handed over to theparmi. Nowadays, however, it is more common for the bride to come forth of herself as soon as the money has been paid, but not before.21November 15.—The villagers tried to dissuade us from attempting to cross the passes where the paths were hidden by the snow, saying that it would be more convenient to stay at Ringbi, where provisions were easily procurable. If I remained here, however, various reports would be spread to prejudice the frontier guards of Tibet against us, and we would, moreover, be unable to ascertain when the snow should have hardened sufficiently to admit of our setting out on our journey, as the passes were three or four days’ march from the village. We determined to try the Yampung la, which still remained free from snow. Our coolies gave the villagers to understand that we shikaris (for Phurchung, with his fowling-piece and load of cartridges, was enabled to pass us off as such) had very little to do with the passes, except for going to Kangpa-chan, where game[13]was more abundant: if we failed entering Namga-tsal, we should most probably return by Jongri to Darjiling.We passed behind the village, where there are some tall cypresses and a solitary juniper tree, which the people erroneously callchandan, or sandal wood.22A short distance from the village we passed the road leading to Dechan phug, “the cavern of bliss,” a huge rock, the hollow in which is haunted by numerous demons and evil spirits. Now and then we saw Limbus making bamboo mats or collecting osiers to thatch their houses. The road along the river was easy, the rills falling into it bridged, and the steep banks carefully crossed by stone dykes, while steps were cut in the rocks where necessary.By one o’clock we reached Paongtang, where, in a wretched shed for travellers (dong-khang), we made our camp. A light rain was falling, so we had to cook our food in the miserable shed, where we could not stand erect, where ants and centipedes were creeping over everything, and the smoke and dust raised by the bellows nearly suffocated us. Though we had a tent, the obstinacy of my servants compelled me to forego the comfort it afforded, for to them thedong-khangwas a comfortable dwelling, and they insisted that I should enjoy it too.Phurchung bought some milk, cheese, murwa, and excellent fish from one of the neighbouring herdsmen, a cousin of his; and when we had refreshed ourselves with the beer, we sat listening to two of our companions, Jordan and Tonzang, as they sang and declaimed over their drink. Though these men carried our loads, they were men of much respectability in their own country, and had been induced to do menial work only to oblige me, as I did not care to trust outsiders with the secret of my movements. I amused myself listening to Jordan, and really wondered that even among the uncivilized dwellers of the hills wine could inspire such eloquence. Among the volleys of his eloquence were quotations from a book called ‘Rinchen Tenwa,’ or ‘The Precious Rosary.’ “ All here assembled, pray attend. “ The eagle is the king of birds; when he rises, all rise. “ The lion is the king of beasts; when he leaps, all leap.[14] “ He who drinks is the prince of speech; when he speaks, all hear.”Here Jordan’s analogy broke down, for he should have said, “When he speaks, all speak;” but as his were quotations, he could take no liberties with the text.23November 16.—After having started Jordan and Tonzang to Darjiling with letters and my Indian clothing, we resumed our journey, and after a mile along the course of the Ringbi we climbed the Lungmo la, which is thickly covered with dwarf bamboos and mossy oaks of immense size.At 2 p.m. we came to Chonjom, the junction of the two head-streams of the Ringbi, where there is a well-made bridge across the river with strong boulder-made buttresses; its bed is here covered with thick green moss. A little later on we halted at a place called Keta, in the midst of dark woods, the abode of bears, pigs, and Sikkim leopards. As I had sent my tent back, we had to make a shelter against the inclemency of the weather by a contrivance made with our bed-clothes, and on the branches of a neighbouring tree we hung our meat and fish, which attracted owls and mice during the night.November 17.—Our hearts quaked as we continued our way through the dense wood and thick undergrowth, for a man-eater was reported to have killed two Nepalese wood-cutters in the Singli la. The year before last a tiger came up to Jongri, where it killed a dozen yaks, and we feared lest now it might have come back to make havoc on the Yampung yaks. While crossing one of the numerous fences dividing different pieces of property, we found a pheasant caught by the neck in a hair-trap. The way was steep and stony, and the cold piercing.At noon we reached the zone of rhododendrons, and, passing through the pines, where we startled pheasants and some other birds of beautiful plumage, we came to a snow-covered ridge. Then we began the ascent of a steep spur, where we were told the Lepcha[15]troops of Sikkim had repelled the Gurkha invaders, shooting their arrows at them, and then rolling rocks down on the enemy. After this difficult piece of road, the ascent became more gradual and easier. On the way we saw some beehives, which differ in shape from those of the plains, being like great white fungi projecting from the rock.At 2 p.m. we reached the Dok of Yampung, situated on the lee side of the range. Longmendongmark the approach to the village, and flying flags show the whereabouts of the yak-sheds and houses; patches of snow and ice glistening in the sun gave, from a distance, a fine appearance to the village, but, on approaching, the beauty vanished, as we perceived the forlorn and deserted condition of the place. Not a living being, not a yak, nor a dog, only some hungry crows perched on the flag-poles and the roofs. The village is composed of a dozen houses built very rudely of loose stone slabs, the roofs made of long pine planks kept in their places by stones. The larger houses were locked up, and the doors of those without locks were sealed by strings. Heaps of red dye-creepers were in every house, which the people exchange for salt brought here from Eastern Nepal in the summer months and in November after the first snows. The Limbus and Lepchas of Western Sikkim come here annually to buy salt, wool, tea, and Tibetan earthenware, in exchange for murwa, maize, dye-creepers, and other little commodities of the Darjiling bazar.November 18.—The Yampung la, though not lofty, presented much difficulty in the ascent, the vegetation on its sides not so luxuriant as that on the Jongri la, which is nearly of equal height. To the north the range skirts the snows of the famous Kangchan, the dreaded Khumba Karna of the hillmen. The eye, on all sides but the east, met only snow, and as I descended to the south-western flank of the Du la, “Demon Mount,” I looked down towards the deep gorge through which the Ringbi leaps with ceaseless roar. The snow-streams from the Yampung la flow into a lake some half-mile in circumference, called Tama chu, on account of its crescent shape; the Nepalese call it Lampokri.With the Du la the difficulties of the ascent began. Ugyen complained of headache and shortness of breath, and said he was sick withla dug(mountain-sickness); and to add to our troubles, such a gale was blowing that I was thrown to the ground several times. One of the coolies fell helpless to the ground, his feet frost-bitten. I gave him my shoes and Kabul socks, putting on myself a new pair of[16]Tibetan boots. The direct way to Gumo tang was blocked with snow, so we had to make a detour by the northern and western flanks of the pass. The snow was frozen, and walking became very dangerous. I made my way as best I could, using both hands and feet. The gorge along which we advanced was so deep that the eye tired of following its windings. The snows from the pass supply the headwater of the Yong-dso chu, which runs past the Jongri (la). The descent was even more dangerous than the ascent; my coolies, used to such work, had soon left me far behind.Leaving the snows of the Du la, we again came in sight of deep gorges filled with pines, with here and there bits of pasture-land overhung by rugged cliffs.Again we had to cross a spur, beyond which lay Gumo tang, our next halting-place, in a deep gorge, some 2000 feet below us. We followed a glacier, and by six in the evening I reached the beautifully wooded Gumo tang gorge, and found it flooded by a torrent coming from the melting snows to the north-east. On the other side of the precipice which overhangs Gumo tang is Lachmi pokri, “The Lake of Fortune,” said to contain gold and precious stones. It is a mile in circumference, deep black in colour, and in its depths are water-elephants, the people say.November 19.—Crossing a stream, with water knee-deep, flowing eastward to feed the Ratong, we began the ascent of the Bogto la. Firs and junipers of various species overhung our way, which lay along the sides of a dry, glacial channel, with a stream flowing down it, anddébrison either side. There are two tracks from here leading to the only shed on the slope of the Bogto; one follows the course of the stream which comes down from the Tso-nag lake, and is usually taken by the Yampung herdmen and the salt traders from Yangma; but the one we followed is not liked by them, as there grows along it a plant calledDug shing,24a deadly poison if eaten by yaks or sheep. Pheasants were feeding on the rhododendron berries, and we also saw herds of wild sheep; but before we reached the summit the rhododendrons and junipers disappeared, and we only saw now and then some lichens or moss-like vegetation in the clefts of the rocks.25Reduced for the last few days to a miserable diet of rice and tea,[17]we were but ill prepared to go through the exertion of climbing up to such high altitudes. I pushed on for half a mile, my head aching violently and with continual retching; I finally fell to the ground, and lay there breathless and utterly exhausted. The coolies suffered even more than I, for while I had only my heavy clothing to carry, they had their loads besides. The wind was piercingly cold, and clouds scudded across the sky. One of the men prepared some tea; I drank a little, but I had no desire for food, though Phurchung insisted on my eating a frozen egg and a little dried fruit. Wrapped in all my blankets, I lay prostrate, my feet resting against one of the loads to prevent me rolling into the abyss. I passed the night in a troubled sleep, while close by me my companions were snoring in deep slumber.November 20.—The sky was overcast and a gentle breeze was blowing, and the guide, who saw signs of a snowstorm, took up his load reluctantly, after chanting somemantras, and, leaving this dreadful place, called the Noga slope, we began the ascent of the pass.A few hundred yards of ascent brought us to the Tso-nag tso, a lakelet now frozen to the bottom, of oval shape, and about 400 yards long and 200 broad; passing this we crossed from ridge to ridge, each covered with sheets of ice, the scenery of the wildest grandeur, the solitude appalling, no sound of water, not even the fall of an occasional avalanche was heard, no one spoke, all were intent on making their way over the slippery surface.After a mile ascent we reached another frozen lake. The guide ran forward, and, collecting some snow and pieces of ice, he sprinkled them across the lake to show us the path and prevent us from slipping. This lakelet, of about the same size as the one just referred to, is held in the sacred books of the Sikkimese to be an object of special sanctity. It is called Tso dom-dongma, “The Lake of Peacock’s Spots,” and the eye of the enchanted devotee can see something like spots in the bubbles in the icy sheets of the lake. The glorious peak of Chum-bok la rose right before us. Clouds now swept swiftly across the sun, and within half an hour the whole vault of heaven was hidden from our view. Courage then failed our hitherto intrepid guide. “Why proceed further up, sir?” said he. “Death awaits us in this desolate place. One hour more and we shall be gone.” “What do you mean by this, Phurchung?” said I. “Where see you death?” “Sir, look at the sky; those clouds will shortly fall in heavy snow on us, from which no human means can enable us to escape. If you[18]escape the snows on this side of the path, you cannot do so on the other.” He trembled and looked pale and depressed. He cried, and said, “Oh, sir, wepon-yog[master and servant] will perish if we go not back to Bogto. The skies are ominous, and tell you to return towards the Bogto la.” He repeated his entreaties with childish tears, but in vain. I told him and the coolies that I was determined not to retrace a single step, and that all his entreaties were to no purpose. In an hour’s time we could scarcely reach Bogto, and if the snow began falling in the mean time, we could hardly escape; besides, such a course would not lessen our troubles, as we should have the risk of recrossing the distance we had now travelled over. There might be a second snowfall, when we should again have to turn back.Ceding finally to my arguments, Phurchung pushed forward. I took the lead, and with fresh energy clambered on, till after an hour we stood on the pass. The skies had cleared up, the azure heavens again smiled on us, and the welcome reappearance of the brilliant sun dispelled all our fears. To our left was Sundub phug, to the right the towering pinnacles of Kangla jang-ma, while the rounded form of the lofty Lap-chyi in the Shar-Khambu district of Nepal rose above the haze. The valley of the Chum-bok la is called Chu lonkyok, “The Water-spoon,” because it receives the waters of the surrounding mountains in a spoon-like basin.I had hardly time to congratulate myself on having reached the summit, when our guide, now smiling, put his arms in the straps (nambo) of his load, and uttering the usual prayer (lha sol), resumed his journey. The descent was fraught with immense dangers, for it lay through trackless snows. The guide sounded the snow everywhere for a path, and not finding one, he took a circuitous direction which seemed practicable to his experienced eye.After walking about an hour we found we had made but little progress, when we came on the tracks of a Tibetan long-tailed leopard (sah).26I wondered how the animal had been able to walk along over the soft snow without ever sinking in it, but my men explained this by attributing supernatural powers to this beast, which they said was indeed the goblin of leopards. An hour’s struggle in the snow exhausted my strength, and I could proceed no further. The guide opened the loads and repacked them, putting all the breakable[19]objects in one, all the clothing and provisions in the other. The latter he threw down the slope, and it ploughed a path, down which I followed till the load brought up against a rock. Then I let myself slide down the half-hardened snow, guiding myself with my elbows so as to escape any crevasse across my path.By 3.30 p.m. we had descended so far in the gorge of Chu lonkyok that patches of grass showed here and there amidst the snow, and I saw an alpine shrub calledupala,27with large pink leaves at the top like those of the water-lily, waved in the wind, which had again begun to blow. The coolies now pushed rapidly ahead, leaving me far behind, but the gradual reappearance of grass, rhododendrons, and juniper bushes revived my spirits as I walked on, frequently halting to catch my breath. Continuing down the gorge through rhododendrons, junipers, and several species of prickly, sweet-scented shrubs, we finally reached, about dark, a great boulder, underneath which we camped. In front of it ran a brook about four feet wide, said to be the head-stream of the famous Kabili of Nepal, which receives the waters from the Chum-bok and the Semarum mountains.November 21.—Though I still felt, when I awakened, greatly exhausted, I had to start without breakfast, as the coolies had left early, fearing lest the fine morning might be followed by a bad afternoon. Dressed very lightly in order to be able to climb more easily, I set out, following in Phurchung’s footsteps. The trail at first presented no great difficulty, though it was continually up and down over mountain ridges five or six hundred feet high; but our previous day’s experience made us think little of such a road. After a few miles we reached a kind of gateway lying between two rocky cliffs, where began the region of scanty vegetation that invariably is found just below the snow-line. Here we halted for a while and drank some tea; then, resuming our journey, we reached the summit of Semarum after a couple of hours of most trying climbing over ice and melting snow. The pass is protected to the south and west by a very rugged cliff resembling the outspread wings of an eagle both in colour and shape, and inspired me with a strange feeling of dread. Sitting on the summit of the pass, I enjoyed, though tired and unwell, the[20]grandeur and sublimity of the scene. No poet could adequately describe Nature’s exploits in this part of the world, no pencil could delineate these romantic scenes.Legend has it that many years ago, on this very pass, a certain cunning and designing Limbu of Tambur Khola concealed under the rocks a red earthen jar filled with charcoal, with the object of establishing his heirs’ right over the whole easternmost part of Nepal, called Yangoro, which includes Singli la, and in his will he made mention of this bequest. A few years later hostilities broke out between the Limbus of Tambur Khola and Yangoro, which lasted for nearly twelve years, during which time the Gurung were the chief sufferers. Pasturing their cattle on the disputed land, both parties stole them as a rent for the right of pasture. Finally the Chambisi Rajah, who ruled at Bhatgaong, settled the dispute in favour of the Yangoro Limbus, the trick of the Tambur Khola Limbus having been found out.From the Semarum pass I saw the Choma Kankar, or “Lord of Snows,” the famous sacred mountain of the Buddhists which overhangs Lap-chyi, the highest of its three peaks, dome-shaped, the two others standing side by side, of truncated cone shape; then to the north-west of these appeared the Shar Khambu Mountains, half lost in the rising mist; to the west, beyond the great chasm formed by the Tambur valley, were the valleys of Feylep, Yalung, Dhunkota, all indistinct in the general haze.Phurchung endeavoured in vain to find a way down through the deep snow which everywhere covered the ground, and finally we had to slide down through the snow for several hundred feet; and then, finding a foothold, we waded on, dragging the loads behind us. I saw tracks of rabbits,28snow-leopards, and a species of bird calledchamdang, probably the snow-pheasant. After a little while we could advance no further down the slope, so Phurchung made a detour over a ridge to our right, its summit a huge bare rock some forty to fifty feet high. From this we descended with great difficulty, throwing the loads down ahead of us and sliding down ourselves in the deep, soft snow.By 4 p.m. we were clear of the snow, and once more found vegetation. After a short rest we resumed our journey along the gentle rill which leaps down from here with a pleasant murmur, and[21]is known as the second headwater of the Kabili, although the brook which we followed empties into the Namga stream which rises in the Kangla Nangmo pass near Jongri. The snow, reaching several miles below the Kangla pass on either side of the Namga, showed us that this pass was inaccessible. These early snows are calledshingsa pahmo. The road led through dwarf rhododendrons, bushy junipers, and prickly shrubs bearing a red fruit. The river was frozen over, except in the narrow parts. In the distance the pine-clad flanks of Juonga, through which the Yalung dashes, were seen resplendent in the rays of the setting sun. We plodded on to 6 p.m., when we reached a broad flat called Namga tsal, “The Grove of Joy,” and shortly after crossed the river by a wooden bridge of the East Nepalese type, and some forty feet long, and came to the halting-place under the widespread branches of a highdung shingor cedar. Namga tsal received its name, I was told, from Lha-tsun, the great Buddhist patriarch of Sikkim, having spent a few days here to rest from his fatigue when travelling for the first time from Tibet to convert the Lhopas (Southerners). He so enjoyed his rest here that he ordered his disciples to hold the place sacred, and to celebrate their annual inaugural religious ceremonies at the cavern in which he had spent a few days. We could see the cave from where we were camped, and were told that the Buddhists of Sikkim and Eastern Nepal still resort to this place on pilgrimage.November 22.—Crossing two streams with swampy banks, the way led uphill for a while through thickets of rhododendrons, where we saw numerous green pheasants of the colour of a green parrot, with spurs on their legs and a deep, thick red line round their eye. In size they were larger than a domestic fowl.29Next we came to the Yalung river, which we crossed by a substantial bridge of cedar logs and silver-fir planks, and then we began the ascent of the steep and lofty Chunjorma, or “Collection of Cascades.” In the wooded solitudes on the lower slopes of the great Kanchanjinga stood the little monastery of Dechan rolpa. The predecessor of the present abbot, it is said, was able to visit Na-Pematang, the Lepcha Paradise, which has only been entered by seven families, and which lies between the Cho-kanchan and Cho-kanchanjinga.[22]Some three miles to the west of the Dechan rolpa gomba is the village of Yalung, where twelve families live who spend their summer in tending yaks at Yalung, and their winter at Yanku tang, in the valley of the Kabili.30Passing by the two lakelets of Tso chung donka, we ascended the mountains of the same name, and finally reached by the Nango la the summit of Chunjorma, which name applies to the portion of the pass between the Nango la and the Mirkan la, where the road from Nepal by Khan-do-phug joins it.From Mirkan la we passed some lofty crags, called Ta-miran kukyab, the principal of which is said to be the image of the horrible deity Tamdrin, or Hayagriva. In shape it resembles a horse’s head (Ta-mgrin) facing towards Kanchanjinga. Descending, we found grass growing on the Pangbo la, and on the Zinan la were junipers and rhododendrons. At about 7 p.m. we reached Mudang phug, Phurchung carrying me on his back for part of the way,November 23.—Our way led along an extensive moraine, the huge reddish boulders of which were covered with creeping tamarisks and dwarf junipers. After about a mile we reached Manda phug, a hollow between two gigantic boulders, the one inclined towards the other; and here we took our breakfast of rice and buttered tea. The vegetation improved as we neared Manda la, and the sight of thick forest growth in the deep glens refreshed our eyes, so long tired with looking on barren rocks. From Tama la, where we saw some shepherds tending their flocks and some yaks, one descends the Yamatari valley, the top of the slope being held sacred to the dreaded Mamo goddesses; on the rhododendron bushes were white and red flags offered to them by wayfarers. From this point I obtained a good view of the Kangpa-chan valley.Finding that I was greatly exhausted, Dao Namgyal, Phurchung’s brother-in-law, took me on his back and carried me till we reached the north-west flank of the Tama la. Soon after this we came to a flat, grass-covered valley with tall rhododendrons and ferns growing about. Phurchung held this spot to have been a singularly lucky one for him, for it was here that his parents had met Hooker some thirty-five years ago, while the great botanist was exploring Nepal. Phurchung’s father, suffering from snow-blindness, was led by his wife to the Doctor, who not only gave him excellent medicine, but presented her[23]with a pretty coin to hang about the neck of her child, Phurchung, then a baby in the arms.31At about 2 p.m. we reached the Yamata ri, formed by the streams which issue from Kanchanjinga. The gorge in which this river flows is singularly beautiful. Above the steep crags on either side were blue glaciers, and at their feet forests of native firs and larches, covered with pendant mosses waving like feathers in the breeze. Just before reaching Kangpa-chan (Gyunsar) village, the Yamata ri river is crossed by a little bridge, and then the village with its wooden huts comes in view. Some of the houses were empty; a few old hags with goitre sat on their thresholds basking in the sun and spinning.Phurchung had reached this, his native village, ahead of us, and he now came, much the worse for drink, to greet us, and led us into his mother’s house, where a fire of rhododendron boughs and aromatic firs blazed in the middle of the room.Chang32was ready in wooden bottles, and his mother poured some boiling water into them as soon as we were seated on the cushions placed for us. Some dry junipers and pines were burnt as incense, and two joss-sticks smoked before us. Then two brass plates full of boiled, red-skinned potatoes were offered us, followed by rice and boiled mutton, the rice being served wrapped up in the broad leaves of some kind of hill plant. When night came on we sat around the fire, each with a bottle of murwa before him; but drowsiness soon overtook me, and I fell asleep.November 24.—The village of Kangpa-chan33is built on several terraces facing the south-west, the houses enclosed in low stone walls. Several small streams empty into the Kangchan below the village, and mountains covered with snow and ice rise precipitously on either side of it, their lower slopes clad with thick forest growth of moss-covered silver firs, deodars, and larches. Juniper and[24]rhododendron bushes surround the village. Round about it are patches of barley,34from one to the other of which flew flocks of wild pigeons.Coming back from a stroll, I found two men waiting to invite me to drinkchangat their houses; and having accepted their invitation, I went first to that of a man called Jorgya. Taking my seat on a thick mattress-like seat covered with a piece of Khamba carpet, a bamboo bottle filled with murwa, with a little piece of butter placed on top of it, was set before us.35Tea was first drunk, the housewife serving mine in a china cup, a form of Tibetan politeness only shown to persons of superior social standing, those of equal or inferior rank to the host using the wooden bowls each one carries about in the breast of his gown. After this, a brass plate filled with potatoes was placed before us on a little table, together with parched Indian corn, milk, and butter, of all of which we ate heartily.Our host advised me not to attempt to go by Wallung, as I would be sure to meet with much difficulty, but rather to enter Tibet by Yangma and the Kangla chen pass, which was still possible, he said, even at this advanced season of the year.I next went to the house of Pemazang, Phurchung’s uncle, which I found well plastered and with a tastefully painted chapel. His son and wife received me at the head of the ladder, and led me into the house. Pemazang had long, thick, and tangled hair. He wore gold earrings in the shape of magnolia flowers, and his looks and talk were grave and serious. He often sits in deep meditation for the purpose of arresting hail or other storms by the potency of the charms he is able to pronounce.36Leaving Pemazang, we crossed the river and paid a visit to the Tashi-chos ding monastery, which we found nearly deserted, one or[25]two old women here and there turning the prayer-wheels outside the temple. Ascending two flights of ladder-stairs, we entered the lama’s house. He and hisani37received us most kindly, and the latter asked me for some medicines for the old gentleman, who was suffering with dyspepsia (pakan).SIKKIM SOLDIER.Returning to our lodgings, we found that the lock of the bag in which I kept my money had been tampered with, but I did not[26]open it, as six other persons were living in the room we occupied, and I feared lest they might see the contents. Whatever the loss might be, I made up my mind to bear it silently, and keep my suspicions to myself.November 25.