watded all round and over tlie top. Slender rods were placed a few feet apart, inside, up wliicli the Pepper Vines climb, and quickly fill tlie place with their deep green glossy foliage. The owner enters ever}- morning by a little door, and carefiUly cleans tlie plants. Constant heat, damp, and moisture, shelter from solar beams, from scorching heat, and from nocturnal radiation, are thus all procui'ed for the plant, which would certainly not live twenty-four hours, if exposed to the climate of this treeless district. Great attention is paid to the cultivation, which is very profitable. Snakes frequently take up their quarters in these hot-houses, and cause fatal accidents.

Titalya was once a military station of some importance, and, from its proximity to tlie hills, has been selected by Dr. Campbell (the Superintendent of Dorjiling) as tlie site for an annual fair, to which the mountain tribes resort, as well as tlie people of the plains. The Calcutta road to Dorjiling by Dinajpore meets, near here, that by which I had come; and I found no difiiculty in procuring bearers to proceed to Siligoree, where I arrived at 6 a.m. on the 13th. Hitherto I had not seen the mountains, so uniformly had they been shrouded by dense wreaths of vapour: here, however, when within eight miles of their base, I caught the first glimpse of the outer range—sombre masses of far from picturesque outline, clothed everj^-where with a dusky forest.

Siligoree stands on the verge of the Terai, that low malarious belt which skirts the base of the Himalaya, from the Sutlej to Brahma-koond in Upper Assam.

Every feature, botanical, geological, and zoological, is new on entering this district. The change is sudden and immediate: sea and shore are hardly more conspicuously diflferent; nor from the edge of the Terai to the limit of perpetual snow is any botanical region more clearly marked than this, which is the commencement of Himalayan vegetation. A sudden descent leads to the Mahanuddee, flowing in a shallow valley, over a pebbly bottom: it is a rapid river, even at this season; its banks are ftdnged with bushes, and it is as clear and sparkling as a trout stream in Scotland. Beyond it the road winds through a thick brush-wood, choked with long grasses, and with but few trees, chiefly of Acacia, Dalbergia Sissoo, and a scarlet-fruited Stercvlia. At this season only a few spring plants were in flower; leaves of terrestrial Orchids appeared, with ferns and weeds of hot damp regions. I crossed the beds of many small streams: some were dry, and all very tortuous; their banks were richly clothed with brush-wood and climbers of Convolvulus, Vines, Bignonias, &c.

Fatal as this district is, and especially to Europeans, a race inhabit it with impunity, who, if not nximerous, do not owe their paucity to any climatic causes. These are the Mechis, often described as a squalid, unhealthy people, typical of the region they frequent; but who are, in reality, more robust than Europeans in India, and whose disagreeably sallow complexion is deceptive as indicating a sickly constitution. They are a mild, inoffensive people, industrious for Orientals, living by annually burning the Terai jungle and cultivating the

cleared spots; and, though so sequestered and isolated, they rather court than avoid intercourse with those whites whom they know to be kindly disposed.

After proceeding some six miles along the gradually ascending path, I came to a considerable stream, cutting its way through stratified gravel, with cliflfs on each side fifteen to twenty feet high, here and there covered with ferns, the. little Oxalis sensitiva, and other herbs. The road here suddenly ascends a steep gravelly hill, and opens out on a short flat, or spur, from which the Himalaya rise abruptly, clothed with forest from the base; the little bungalow of Punkabaree, my immediate destination, nestled in the woods, crQwning a lateral knoll, above which, to east and west, as far as the eye could reach, were range after range of wooded mountains, 6000 to 8000 feet high.

From this steppe, the ascent to Punkabaree is sudden and steep, and accompanied with a change in soil and vegetation. A giant forest replaces the stunted and biishy timber of the Terai Proper; of which the Duahanga and Terminalias form the prevailing teees, with Cedrela and the Gordonia WaUichiL Smaller timber and shrubs are innumerable ; whilst a succulent character pervades the bushes and herbs, occasioned by the prevalence of the nettle tribe. Large bamboos rather crest the hills than court the deeper shade, and of the latter there is abimdance, for the torrents cut a straight, deep, and steep course down the hill flanks : the gulleys they traverse are choked with vegetation and bridged by fallen trees, whose

trunks are richly clothed with epiphytical Orchids, pendulous Lycopodia and many ferns, and similar types of the hottest and dampest climates.

The bungalow at Punkabaree was good—^which was fortunate, as my luggage-bearers were not come up, and there were no signs of them along the Terai road, which I saw winding below me. My scanty stock of paper being full of plants, I was reduced to the strait of gathering, and throwing away my specimens. The forest was truly magnificent along the steep mountain sides. The apparently large proportion of deciduous trees was far more considerable than I had expected; partly, probably, due to the abundance of the Dilleniay Cassia, and Stercvlia, whose copious fruit was all the more conspicuous from the leafless condition of the plant. The white or lilac blossoms of the convolvuluslike Thunhergia, and other Acanthacece, were the predominant features of the shrubby vegetation, and very handsome.

All around, the hills rise steeply five or six thousand feet, clothed with a dense deep-green dripping forest. Torrents rush down the slopes, their position indicated by the dipping of the forest into their beds, or the occasional cloud of spray rising above some more boisterous part of their course. From the road, at and a little above Punkabaree, the view is really superb, and very instructive. Behind (or north) the Himalaya rise in steep confused masses. Below, the hill on which I stood, and the ranges as far as the eye can reach east and west, throw spurs on to the plains of India. These spurs are very thickly wooded, and enclose

broad, dead-flat, hot and damp valleys, apparently covered with a dense forest. The Terai district forms a very irregular belt, scantily clothed, and intersected by innumerable rivulets from the hills, which imite and divide again on the flat, till, emerging from the region of trees, they enter the plains, following devious courses, which glisten like silver threads. The whole horizon is bounded by the sea-like expanse of the plams, which stretch away into tlie region of sunshine and fine weather, in one boundless flat.

In the distance, the courses of the Teesta and Cosi, the great drainers of the snowy Himalayas, and the recipients of innumerable smaller rills, are with difficulty traced at this, the dry season. The oceanlike appearance of this southern view is even more conspicuous in the heavens than on the land, the clouds arranging themselves after a singularly sea-scape fashion. The breezes are south-easterly, bringing that vapour from the Indian Ocean, which is rarefied and suspended aloft over the heated plains, but condensed into a drizzle when it strikes the cooler flanks of the hills, and into heavy rain when it meets their still colder summits. Upon what a gigantic scale does nature here operate! Vapours, raised from an ocean whose nearest shore is more than 400 miles distant, are safely transported without the loss of one drop of water, to support the rank luxuriance of this far distant region. This and other offices fulfilled, the waste waters are returned, by the Cosi and Teesta, to the ocean, and again exhaled, imported, expended, re-collected, and returned.

The soil and bushes everywhere swarmed with large and troublesome ants, and enormous earthworms. In the evening, the noise of the great Cicada in the trees was almost deafening. They burst suddenly into fall chorus, with a voice so harshly croaking, so dissonant, and so unearthly, that in these solitary forests I could not help being startled; and they cease as suddenly as they commence. In general character the note was viery similar to that of other Cicada. On the following morning my baggage arrived, and, leaving my palkee, I mounted a pony kindly sent for me from Dorjiling by Mr. Hodgson, and commenced a very steep ascent of about 8000 feet winding along the face of a steep, richly-wooded valley. The road zigzags extraordinarily in and out of the innumerable lateral ravines, each with its water-course, dense jungle, and legion of leeches; the bite of these blood-suckers gives no pain, but is followed by considerable eflfusion of blood. They puncture through thick worsted stockings, and even trousers, and, when £ull, roll in the form of a little soft ball into the bottom of the shoe, where their presence is hardly felt in walking.

Not only are the roadsides rich in plants, but native paths, cutting off all the zigzags, run in straight lines up the steepest hill-faces, and thus double the available means for botanising; and it is all but impossible to leave the paths of one kind or other, except for a yard or two up the rocky ravines. Elephants, tigers, and occasionally the rhinoceros, inhabit the foot of these hills, with wild boars, leopards, &c,; but none ftre numerous. The elephant's path is an excellent

specimen of engineering—the reverse of the native track, for it winds judiciously.

At about 1000 feet above Punkabaree, the vegetation is very rich, and appears all the more so from the many turnings of the road, which afford glorious prospects of the foreshortened tropical forests. The prevalent timber is gigantic, and scaled by climbing Leguminosce, which sometimes sheath the trunks, or span the forest with huge cables, binding tree to tree. Their trunks are also clothed with parasitical Orchids, climbing Pothos,' Peppers, Vines, Convolvulus, and Bignonias. The beauty of the drapery of the Pothos-leaves is pre-eminent, whether for the graceful folds the foliage assumes, or for the liveliness of its colour. Of the more conspicuous smaller trees, the wild banana is the most abundant, its crown of very beautiful foliage contrasting with the smaUer-leaved plants amongst which it nestles; next comes a screw-pine {Pandanus) with a straight stem and a tuft of leaves, each eight or ten feet long, waving on all sides. Bamboo abounds everywhere: its dense tufts of culms, 100 feet and upwards high, are as thick at the base as a man's thigh. Twenty or thirty species of ferns (including a tree-fern) were luxuriant and handsome; while foliaceous lichens and a few mosses appeared at 2000 feet. Such is the vegetation of the roads through the tropical forests of the Outer Himalaya.

At about 4000 feet a great change took place in the vegetation,—marked first by the appearance of a very English-looking bramble, which, however, by way of proving its foreign origin, bore a very good yellow fruit,

t2

called here the " yellow raspberry." Scattered oaks of a noble species, with large lamellated cups and magnificent foliage, succeeded; and along the ridge of the mountain to Eursiong (a dawk bungalow at about 4800 feet), the change in the flora was complete.

The spring of this region and elevation most vividly recalled that of England. The oak flowering, the birch bursting into leaf, the violet, SteUariay and Aruniy Vaccinitim, wild strawberry, maple, geranium, bramble. A colder wind blew here: mosses and lichens carpeted the banks and roadsides: the birds and insects were very different from those below; and everything proclaimed the marked change in elevation, and not only in this, but also in the season, for I had left the winter of the tropics and here encountered the spring of the temperate zone.

These flowers are so notoriously the harbingers of a European spring that their presence carries one home at once: but, as species, they differ from their European prototypes, and are accompanied at this elevation, and for 2000 feet higher up, with tree-ferns, Pothos, bananas, palms, figs, peppers, numbers of epiphytal Orchids, and s imilar genuine tropical genera. The uniform temperature and humidity of the climate here favour the extension of tropical plants into a temperate region ; exactly as the same conditions cause similar forms to attain higher latitudes in the southern hemisphere (as in New Zealand, Tasmania, South Chili, &c.) than they do in the northern.

Kursiong bungalow, where I stopped for a few hours, is superbly placed, on a narrow mountain ridge. The

west window looks down the valley of the Balastm, the east into that of the Mahanuddee: both of these rivers rise from the outer range, and flow in broad, deep, and steep valleys (about 4000 feet deep) which are richly wooded from the Terai to their tops.

From Kursiong a very steep zigzag leads up the mountain, through a magnificent forest of chesnut, walnut, oaks, and laurels. It is difficult to conceive a grander mass of vegetation:—^the straight shafts of the timber-trees shooting aloft, some naked and clean, with grey, pale, or brown bark; others literally clothed for yards with a continuous garment of epiphytes, one mass of blossoms, especially the white Orchids, which bloom in a profuse manner, whitening their trunks like snow. More bulky trunks were masses of interlacing climbers, enclosing a hollow, once filled by the strangled tree, which had long ago decayed away. From the sides and summit of these, supple branches hung forth, either leafy or naked; the latter resembling cables flung from one tree to another, swinging in the breeze, their rocking motion increased by the weight of great bunches of ferns or Orchids, which were perched aloft in the loops. Perpetual moisture nourishes this dripping forest; and pendulous mosses and lichens are met with in profusion.

It was very late before I arrived at Pacheem bungalow, the most sinister-looking rest-house I ever saw, stuck on a little cleared spur of the mountain, surrounded by dark forests, overhanging a profound valley, enveloped in mists and rain, and hideous in architecture, being a miserable attempt to unite the Swiss cottage with the

suburban gothic;—^it combined a maximum of discomfort with a minimum of good looks or good cheer. I was some time in finding the dirty housekeeper, in an outhouse hard by, and then in waking him. As he led me up the crazy verandah, and into a broad ghostly room, without glass in the windows, or fire, or any one comfort, my mind recurred to the stories told of the horrors of the Hartz forest, and of the benighted traveller's situation therein. Cold sluggish beetles clung to the damp walls,—and these I immediately secured. After due exertions and perseverance with the wet wood, a fire smoked lustily, and, by cajoling the gnome of a housekeeper, I procured the usual roast fowl and potatoes, with the accustomed sauce of a strong smoky and singed flavour.

Pacheem stands at an elevation of nearly 7300 feet, and as I walked out on the following morning I met with English-looking plants in abundance, but was too early in the season to get aught but the foliage of most. Epiphytes were rare, still I found some white and purple Codogynes, and other Orchids, and a most noble white rhododendron, whose enormous and delicious lemon-scented blossoms strewed the ground. The trees were one half oaks, one quarter Magnolias, and nearly another quarter laurels, amongst which grew Himalayan kinds of birch, alder, maple, holly, bird-cherry, common cherry, and apple. The absence of leguminous plants was remarkable, and the most prominent botanical feature in the vegetation of this region: it is too high for the tropical tribes of the warmer elevations, too low for the Alpines, and probably too

moist for those of temperate regions; cool, equable, humid climates being generally unfavourable to these plants. I found very few native species of grasses; though both Poa annua and white Dutch clover flourished where accidentally disseminated, but only in artificially cleared spots. Of ferns I collected about sixty-species, chiefly of temperate genera. The supremacy of this temperate region consists in the infinite number of forest trees, in the absence (in the usual proportion at any rate) of such common orders as Composite, Legvr minosce, Cruciferce, Ranuncvlacecey and Grasses; and in the predominance of rarer and more local families, as those of Ehododendron, Camellia, Magnolia, Ivy, Cornel, Honeysuckle, Hydrangea, Begonia, and Epiphytic Orchids.

From Pacheem, the road runs in a northerly direction to DorjOing, still along the Balasun valley, till the saddle of the great mountain Sinchul is crossed* This is narrow, and stretches east and west, and from it a spur projects northwards for five or six miles, amongst the many mountains still intervening between it and the snows. This saddle (alt. 7,400 feet) crossed, one is fairly amongst the mountains: the plains behind are cut oflf by it; and in front, the snows may be seen when the weather is propitious. The vaUeys on the inner side of the mountain run northwards, and discharge their streams into great rivers, which, coming from the snow, wind amongst the hills, and d6bouche into the Teesta, to the east, where it divides Sikkim from Bhotan.

Dorjiling station occupies a narrow ridge, which divides into two spurs, and descends steeply to the bed

of the Great Eungeet river, up whose course the eye is carried to the base of the great snowy mountains. The ridge itself is very narrow at the top, along which most of the houses are perched, while others occupy positions on its flanks, where narrow locations on the east, and broader ones on the west, are cleared from wood. The valleys on either side are at least 6000 feet deep, forest-clad to the bottom, with very few and small level spots, and no absolute precipice; from their flanks project innumerable little spurs, occupied by native clearings.

My route lay along the east flank, overhanging the valley of the Eungmo river. To my right the amphitheatre of hills was very fine: it enclosed an area some four miles across and 4000 feet deep, clothed throughout with an impenetrable, dark forest: there was not one clear patch except near the very bottom, where were some scattered hamlets, each consisting of two or three huts. A wooded slope descends suddenly from the edge of the road, while, on the other hand, a bank rises abruptly to the top of the ridge, alternately mossy, rocky, and clayey.

I arrived atDoijiling on the 16th of April; a showery, cold month at this elevation. I was so fortunate as to find Mr. Charles Barnes (brother of my friend at Colgong), the sole tenant of a long, cottage-like building, divided off into pairs of apartments, which are hired by visitors. It is usual for Europeans to bring a fullJestabUshment of servants (with bedding, &c.) to such stations, but I had not done so, having been told that there was a furnished hotel in Dorjiling;

and I was, therefore, not a little indebted to Mr. Barnes for his kind invitation to join his mess. As he was an active mountaineer, we enjoyed many excursions together, in the two months and a half during which we were companions.

Dr. Campbell procured me several active native (Lepcha) lads as collectors, at wages varying from eight to twenty shillings a month; these either accompanied me on my excursions, or went by themselves into the jungles to collect plants, which I occupied myself in drawing, dissecting, and ticketing, while the preserving of the specimens fell to the Lepchas, who, after a little training, became, with constant superintendence, good plant-driers. Even at this season (four weeks before the setting in of the rains) the weather was very uncertain, so that the papers had generally to be dried by the fire.

The hill-station or Sanatarium of Doijiling owes its origin (like Simla, Mussooree, &c.) to the necessity that exists in India, of providing places where the health of Europeans may be recruited by a temperate climate. Sikkim proved an eligible position for such an establishment, owing to its proximity to Calcutta, which lies but 370 miles to the southward; whereas the north-west stations mentioned above are upwards of a thousand miles from that city. DoqUing ridge varies in height from 6,500 to 7,500 feet above the level of the sea; 8000 feet being the elevation at which the mean temperature most nearly coincides with that of London, viz., 50°.

Sikkim was, further, the only available spot for a Sanatarium throughout the whole range of the

p3

Himalaya, east of the extreme western frontier of Nepal; being a protected state, and owing no allegiance, except to the British government; which, after the Bajah had been driven from the comitry by the Ghorkas, in 1817, replaced him on his throne, and guaranteed him the sovereignty. Our main object in doing this was to retain Sikkim as a fender between Nepal and Bhotan: and but for this policy, the aggressive Nepalese would, long ere now, have possessed themselves of Sikkim, Bhotan, and the whole Himalaya, eastwards to the borders of Burmah.*

From 1817 to 1828 no notice was taken of Sikkim, till a frontier dispute occurred between the Lepchas and Nepalese, which was referred (according to the terms of the treaty) to the British Government. During the arrangement of this, Dorjiling was visited by a gentleman of high scientific attainments, Mr. J. W. Grant, who pointed out its eligibility as a site for a Sanatarium to Lord William Bentinck, then Governor-General ; dwelling especially on its climate, proximity to Calcutta, and accessibility; on its central position between Tibet, Bhotan, Nepal, and British India; and on the good example a peaceably-conducted and well-governed station would be to our turbulent neighbours in that quarter. The suggestion was cordially received, and Major Herbert (the late eminent Surveyor-General

* Of this being their wish the Nepalese have never made any secret, and they are said to have asked permission from the British to march an army across Sikkim for the purpose of conquering Bhotan, promising to become more peaceable neighbours to us than the Bhotanese are. Such they would doubtless have proved, but the Nepal frontier is considered broad enough already.

of India) and Mr. Grant were employed to report further on the subject.

The next step taken was that of requesting the Rajah to cede atract of country which should include Dorjiling, for an equivalent in money or land. His first demand was unreasonable; but on further consideration he surrendered Dorjiling unconditionally, and a sum of 300Z. per annum was granted to him as an equivalent for what was to him a worthless uninhabited mountain. In 1840 Dr. Campbell was removed from Nepal to be superintendent of the new station, and was entrusted with the charge of the political relations between the British and Sikkim governments.

Once established, Dorjiling made rapid progress. Allotments of land were purchased by Europeans for building dwelling-houses; barracks and a bazaar were formed, with accommodation for invalid European soldiers; a few official residents, civil and military, formed the nucleus of a community, which was increased by retired officers and their families, and by temporary visitors in search of health, or the luxury of a cool climate and active exercise.

For the first few years matters went on smoothly with the Eajah, whose minister (or Dewan) was upright and intelligent; but the latter, on his death, was succeeded by the present Dewan, a Tibetan, and a relative of the Ranee (or Rajah's wife); a man unsurpassed for insolence and avarice, whose aim was to monopolise the trade of the country, and to enrich himself at its expense. Every obstacle was thrown by him in the way of a good understanding between

Sikkim and the British govemmei^. British subjects were rigorously excluded from Sikkim; every liberal offer for free trade and intercourse was rejected, generally with insolence; merchandise was taxed, and notorious offenders, refugees from the British territories, were harboured; despatches were detained; and the Vakeels, or Eajah*s representatives, were chosen for their overbearing manners and incapacity. The conduct of the Dewan throughout was Indo-Chinese ; assuming, arrogant, aggressive, never perpetrating open violence, but by petty insults effectually preventing all good understanding. He was met by neglect or forbearance on the part of the Calcutta government; and by patience and passive resistance at Dorjiling. Such has been our poUcy in China, Siam, and Burmah, and in each instance the result has been the same : our inaction and long-suffering have been taken for weakness, and our concessions for timidity. Had it been insisted that the terms of the treaty should be strictly kept, and had the first act of insolence been noticed, we should have maintained the best relations with Sikkim, whose people and rulers (with the exception of the Dewan and his faction) have proved themselves friendly throughout, and most anxious for unrestricted communication.

These political difficulties have not, however, prevented the rapid increase of Doijiling; the progress of which, during the two years I spent in Sikkim, resembled that of an Australian colony, not only in amount of building, but in the accession of native families from the surrounding countries. There were not a hundred

inhabitants under British protection when the ground was transferred; there are now four thousand. At the former period there was no trade whatever; there is now a very considerable one, in musk, salt, gold-dust, borax, soda, woollen cloths, and especially in ponies, of which the Dewan in one year brought on his own account upwards of fifty into Dorjiling.* The trade has been greatly increased by the annual fair which Dr. Campbell has established at the foot of the hills, to which many thousands of natives flock jfrom all quarters, and which exercises a most beneficial influence throughout the neighbouring territories. At this, prizes (in medals, money, and kind) are given for agricultural implements and produce, stock, &c., by the originator and a few friends; a measure attended with eminent success.

When estimating in a sanatory point of view the value of any health-station, little reliance can be placed on the general impressions of invalids, or even of residents; the opinion of each varies with the nature and state of his complaint, if ill, or with his idiosyncracy and disposition, if well. I have seen prejudiced individuals rapidly recovering, in spite of themselves, and all the while complaining in immeasured terms of the climate of Dorjiling, and abusing it as killing them. There are others who languish under the heat of the plains at one season, and the damp at another; and who, though

* The Tibetan pony, though bom and bred 10,000 to 14,000 feet above the sea, is one of the most active and nsefiil animals in the plains of Bengal, powerful and hardy, and when well trained early, docile, although by nature vicious and obstinate.

sickening and dying under its influence, yet consistently praise a tropical climate to the last. The opinions of those who resort to Dorjiling in health, differ equally; those of active minds invariably thoroughly enjoy it, while the mere lounger or sportsman mopes. The statistical tables afford conclusive proofs of the value of the climate to Europeans suffering from acute diseases, and they are corroborated by the returns of the medical officer in charge of the station. With respect to its suitability to the European constitution I feel satisfied, and that much saving of life, health, and money would be effected were European troops drafted thither on their arrival in Bengal, instead of being stationed in Calcutta, exposed to disease, and temptation to those vices which prove fatal to so many hundreds. This, I have been given to understand, was the view originally taken by the Court of Directors, but it has never been carried out.

I believe that children's faces afford as good an index as any to the healthfulness of a climate, and in no part of the world is there a more active, rosy, and bright young community, than at DorjOing. It is incredible what a few weeks of that mountain air will do for the India-bom children of European parents: they are taken there sickly, pallid or yellow, soft and flabby, to become transformed into models of rude health and activity.

There are, however, disorders to which the climate (in common with all damp ones) is not at all suited; such are especially dysentery, bowel and liver complaints of long standing; which are not benefited by a residence on these hills, though how much worse they

might have become iii the x>Iaiiis is not shown. I cannot hear that the climate aggravates, but it certainly does not remove tliem. Whoever, on tlie contrary, is suffering jfrom the debilitating effects of any of the multifarious acute maladies of the i)lains, finds immediate relief, and acquires a stock of health tliat enables biTTi to resist fresh attacks, under circumstances similar to those which before engendered them.

Natives of the low countrj'-, and especially Bengalees, are far from enjoying the climate as Europeans do, being liable to sharp attacks of fever and ague, from which the poorly clad natives are not exempt. It is, however, difficult to estimate the effects of exposure upon the Bengalees, who sleep on the bare and often damp ground, and adhere, with characteristic prejudice, to the attire of a torrid climate, and to a vegetable diet, under skies to which these are least of all adapted.

It must not be supposed that Europeans who have resided in the plains can, on their first arrival, expose themselves with impunity to the cold of these elevations ; and this was shown in the winter of 1848-9, when troops brought up to Dorjiling were cantoned in newly-buUt dwellings, on a high exposed ridge 8000 feet above the sea, and lay, insufficiently protected, on a floor of loosely laid planks, exposed to the cold wind, when tlie ground without was covered with snow. Kheumatisms, sharp febiile attacks, and dysenteries ensued, which were attributed, in the public papers, to the unhealthy nature of the climate of Dorjiling.

CHAPTER V.

View from Mr. Hodgson's of the snowy mountains—^Their extent and elevation—^Deceptive appearance of elevation—Sinclml, view from and vegetation of—Ohtimnlari—^Magnolias, white and pnrple—'Rhododendron Dalhousifle, arboreum and argenteum—Natives of Doijiling— Lepchas, origin, tradition of flood, morals, dress, arms, ornaments, diet—caps, origin and value—Marriages—^Diseases—^Burial—^Worship and religion—Bijooas—-Eami>a Bong, or Arratt—^Limboos, origin, habits, langoage, &c.—^Moormis—Magras—Mechis—Comparison of customs with those of the natives of Assam, Khasia, &c.

The summer, or rainy season of 1848, was passed at or near Dorjiling, during which period I chiefly occupied myself in forming collections, and in taking meteorological observations. I resided at Mr. Hodgson's for the greater part of the time, in consequence of his having given me a hospitable invitation to consider his house my home. The view from his windows is quite unparalleled for the scenery it embraces, commanding confessedly the grandest known landscape of snowy mountains in the Himalaya, and hence in the world. Kinchinjunga (forty-five miles distant) is the prominent object, rising 21,000 feet above the level of the observer out of a sea of intervening wooded hills; whilst, on a line with its snows, the eye descends below the horizon, to p.

narrow gulf 7000 feet deep in the mountains, where the Great Eungeet, white with foam, threads a tropical forest with a silver line.

To the north-west towards Nepal, the snowy peaks of Kubra and Junnoo (respectively 24,005 feet and 25,312 feet) rise over the shoulder of Singalelah; whilst eastward the snowy mountains appear to form an unbroken range, trending north-east to the great mass of Donkia (23,176 feet) and thence south-east by the fingered peaks of Tunkola and the silver cone of Chola (17,320 feet), gradually sinking into the Bhotan mountains at Gipmoochi (14,509 feet).

The most eloquent descriptions I have read fail to convey to my mind's eye the forms and colours of snowy mountains, or to my imagination the sensations and impressions that rivet my attention to these sublime phenomena when they are present in reality; and I shall not therefore obtrude any attempt of the kind upon my reader. The latter has probably seen the Swiss Alps, which, though barely possessing half the sublimity, extent, or height of the Himalaya, are yet far more beautiful. In either case the observer is struck with the precision and sharpness of their outlines, and still more with the wonderful play of colours on their snowy flanks, from the glowing hues reflected in orange, gold and ruby, from clouds illumined by the sinking or rising sun, to the ghastly paUor that succeeds with twilight, when the red seems to give place to its complementary colour, green. Such dissolving-views elude all attempts at description, they are far too aerial to be chained to the memory, and

fade from it so fast as to be gazed upon day after day, with undiminished admiration and pleasure, long after the mountains themselves have lost their sublimity and apparent height.

The actual extent of the snowy range seen from Mr. Hodgson's windows is comprised within an arc of 80° (from north 80° west to north 50° east), or nearly a quarter of the horizon, along which the perpetual snow forms an unbroken girdle or crest of frosted silver; and in winter, when the mountains are covered down to 8000 feet, this white ridge stretches uninterruptedly for more than 160°. No known view is comparable with this in extent, when the proximity and height of the mountains are considered; for within the 80° above mentioned more than twelve peaks rise above 20,000 feet, and there are none below 15,000 feet, while Kinchin is 28,178, and seven others above 22,000. The nearest perpetual snow is on Nursing, a beautiful sharp conical peak 19,139 feet high, and thirty-two miles distant; the most remote mountain seen is Donkia, 23,176 feet liigh, and seventy-three mUes distant; whilst Kinchin, which forms the principal mass both for height and bulk, is forty-five miles distant.

On first viewing this glorious panorama, the impression produced on the imagination by their prodigious elevation is, that the peaks tower in the air and pierce the clouds, and such are the terms generally used in descriptions of similar alpine scenery; but the observer, if he look agam, will find that even the most stupendous occupy a very low position on the horizon, the top of Kinchin itself

measuring only 4° 31' above his own level! Donkia again, which is about 15,700 feet above Mr. Hodgson's, rises only 1° 55' above the horizon; an angle which is quite inappreciable to the eye, when unaided by instruments.

This view may be extended a little by ascending Sinchul, which rises a thousand feet above the elevation of Mr. Hodgson's house, and lies a few miles to the south-east of Dorjiling: from its summit Chumulari (23,929 feet) is seen to the north-east, at eighty-four miles distance, rearing its head as a great rounded mass over the snowy Chola range, out of which it appears to rise, although in reality lying forty miles beyond;—so deceptive is the perspective of snowy moimtains. To the north-west again, at upwards of 100 miles distance, a beautiful group of snowy mountains rises above the black Singalelah range, the chief being, perhaps, as high as Kinchinjunga, from which it is fully eighty miles distant to the westward; and between them no mountain of considerable altitude intervenes; the Nepalese Himalaya in that direction sinking remarkably towards the Arun river, which there enters Nepal from Tibet.

The top of SiQchul is a favourite excursion from DorjiliDg, being very easy of access, and the path aboundiDg in rare and beautiful plants, and passing through magnificent forests of oak, magnolia, and rhododendron; while the summit, besides embracing this splendid view of the snowy range over the Dorjiling spur, commands also the plaius of India, with the courses of the Teesta, Mahanuddee, Balasim

and Mechi rivers. In the months of April and May, when the magnolias and rhododendrons are in blossom, the gorgeous vegetation is, in some respects, not to be surpassed by anything in the tropics; but the effect is much marred by the prevailing gloom of the weather. The white-flowered magnolia (M. cxcelsa) is the predominant tree at 7000 to 8000 feet; and in 1848 it blossomed so profusely, that the forests on the broad flanks of Sinchul, and other mountains of that elevation, appeared as if sprinkled with snow. The purple-flowered kind again (M. CampbeUii) hardly occurs below 8000 feet, and forms an immense, but very ugly, black-barked, sparingly branched tree, leafless in winter and also during the flowering season, when it puts forth from the end of its branches great rose-purple cup-shaped flowers, whose fleshy petals strew the ground. On its branches, and on those of oaks and laurels. Rhododendron Dalhousice grows as an epiphyte, a slender shrub, bearing from three to six white lemon-scented bells, four and a half inches long and as many broad, at the end of each branch. In the same woods the scarlet rhododendron (R. arborevm) is very scarce, and is outvied by the great R. argentevm, which grows as a tree forty feet high, with magnificent leaves twelve to fifteen inches long, deep green, wrinkled above and silvery below, while the flowers are as large as those of R. Dalhousice, and grow more in a cluster. I know nothing of the kind that exceeds in beauty the flowering branch of R. argentevm, with its wide-spreading foliage and glorious mass of flowers.

Oaks, laurels, maples, birch, chesnut, hydrangea, a species of fig (which is found on the very summit), and three Chinese and Japanese genera, are the principal features of the forest. In spring immense broad-leaved arums spring up, with green or purple-striped hoods, that end in tail-like threads, eighteen inches long, which lie along the ground; and there are various kinds of beautiful flowering herbs. Nearly thirty ferns may be gathered on this excursion, including many of great beauty and rarity, but the tree-fern does not ascend so high. Grasses are very rare in these woods, excepting the dwarf bamboo; a plant now cultivated in the open air in England.

Before proceeding to narrate my diflferent expeditions into Sikkim and Nepal from DorjUing, I shall give a sketch of the different peoples and races composing the heterogeneous population of Sikkim and the neighbouring mountains.

The Lepcha is the aboriginal inhabitant of the country, and the prominent character in Dorjiling, where he undertakes all sorts of out-door employment. The race to which he belongs is a very singular one; markedly Mongolian in features, and a good deal too, in habit; still he differs from his Tibetan prototype, though not so decidedly as from the Nepalese and Bhotanese, between whom he is hemmed into a tract of mountain country, barely 60 miles in breadth. The Lepchas possess a tradition of the flood, during which a couple escaped to the top of a mountain (Tendong) near Dorjiling. The earliest traditions which they have of their history date no further back than some three

hundred years, when they describe themselves as having been long-haired, half-clad savages. At about that period they were visited by Tibetans, who introduced Boodh worship, the plaiting of their hair into pig-tails, and many of their own customs. Their physiognomy is however so Tibetan in its character, that it cannot be supposed that this was their earliest intercourse with the trans-nivean races: whether they may have wandered jfrom beyond the snows before the spread of Boodhism, or whether they are a cross between the Tamulian of India and the Tibetan, has not been decided. Their language, though radically identical with Tibetan, differs from it in many important particulars. They, or at least some of their tribes, call themselves Eong, and Arratt, and their country Dijong : they once possessed a great part of East Nepal, as far west as the Tambur river, and at a still earlier period they penetrated as far west as the Arun.

An attentive examination of the Lepcha in one respect entirely contradicts our preconceived notions of a moimtaineer, as he is timid, peaceful, and no brawler; qualities which are all the more remarkable from contrasting so strongly with those of his neighbours to the east and west: of whom the Ghorkas are brave and warlike to a proverb, and the Bhotanese quarrelsome, cowardly, and cruel. A group of Lepchas is exceedingly picturesque. They are of short stature—^four feet eight inches to five feet—^rather broad in the chest, and with muscular arms, but small hands and slender wrists. The face is broad, flat, and of eminently Tartar character, flat-nosed and oblique-eyed, with no beard.

LEPCHAS.

119

and little moustache ; the complexion is sallow, or often a clear olive; the hair is collected into an immense tail, plaited flat or round. The lower limbs are powerfully developed, befitting genuine mountaineers: the

LEPCUA GIBL AND BHOODIST LAMA.

feet are small. Though never really handsome, and very womanish in the cast of countenance, they have invariably a mild, frank, and even engaging expression.

which is perhaps due more to the absence of anjrthing impleasing, than to the presence of direct grace or beauty. In like manner, the girls are often very engaging to look upon, though without one good feature: they are all smiles and good nature; and the children are frank, lively, laughing urchins. The old women are thorough hags. Indolence is their besetting sin; they detest any fixed employment, and their foulness of person and garments renders them disagreeable inmates: in this rainy climate they are supportable out of doors. Though fond of bathing when they come to a stream in hot weather, and expert, even admirable swimmers, these people never take to the water for the purpose of ablution. In disposition they are amiable and obliging, frank, humorous, and polite, without the servility of the Hindoos ; and their address is free and unrestrained. Their intercourse with one another and with Europeans is scrupulously honest; a present is divided equally amongst a party, without a syllable of discontent or grudging look or word; each, on receiving his share, coming up and giving the donor a brusque bow and thanks. They have learnt to overcharge already, and to use extortion in dealing, as is the custom with the people of the plains; but it is clumsily done, and never accompanied with the grasping air and insufferable whine of the latter. They are constantly armed with a Igng, heavy, straight knife,* but never draw it on one another: family and political feuds are alike unheard of amongst them.

* It is called "Ban," and serves equally for plough, toothpick, table-knife, hatchet, hammer, and sword.

The Lepcha is in morals far superior to his Tibet and Bhotan neighbours, polyandry being unknown, and polygamy rare. This is no doubt greatly due to the conventual system not being carried to such an excess as in Bhotan, where even tlie ties of relationship are disregarded.

Like the New Zealander, Tasmanian, Fuegian, and the natives of other climates, which, though cold, are moist and equable, tlie Lepcha's dress is very scanty, and when we are wearing woollen under-garments and hose, he is content with one cotton vestment, which is loosely thrown roimd the body, leaving one or both arms jfree ; it reaches to the knee, and is gathered round the waist: its fabric is close, the ground colour white, ornamented with longitudinal blue stripes, two or three fingers broad, prettily worked with red and white. When new and clean, this garb is remarkably handsome and gay, but not showy. In cold weather an upper garment with loose sleeves is added. A long knife, with a common wooden handle, hangs by his side, stuck in a sheath; he has often also a quiver of poisoned arrows and a bamboo bow across his back. On his left wrist is a curious wooden guard for the bowstring; and a little pouch containing aconite poison and a few common implements is suspended to his girdle. He seldom wears a hat, and when he does, it is often extravagantly broad and flat-brimmed, with a small hemispherical crown. It is made of the leayes of Scitaminece, between two thin plates of bamboo-work, clumsy and heavy; this is generally used in rainy weather, while in dr}'- a conical one is worn, also of platted sli])s of bamboo,

with broad flakes of talc between the layers, and a peacock's feather at the side. The umbrella consists of a large hood much like the ancient boat called a coracle, which being placed over the head reaches to the thighs behind. It is made of platted bamboo, enclosing broad leaves of Phrynium, Lepchas running along in the pelting rain, with these on, are very droll figures ; they look like snails with their shells on their backs.

The Lepchas are fond of ornaments, wearing silver hoops in their ears, necklaces of cornelian, amber and turquoise, brought from Tibet, and pearls and corals from the south, with curious silver and golden charm-boxes or amulets attached to their necks or arms. These are of Tibetan workmanship, and often of great value: they contain Kttle idols, charms of written prayers, or the bones, hair, or nail-parings of a Lama: some are of great beauty and highly ornamented. Li these decorations, and in their hair, they take some pride, the ladies frequently dressing the latter for the gentlemen : thus one may often see, the last thing at night, a damsel of discreet port, demurely go behind a young man, unplait his pig-tail, tease the hair, thin it of some of its lively inmates, braid it up for him and retire^ The women always wear two braided pig-tails, and it is by this they are most readily distinguished from their effeminate-looking partners, who wear only one. When in full dress, the woman's costimie is extremely ornamental and picturesque ; besides the shirt and petticoat, she wears a small sleeveless woollen cloak, of gay pattern, usually covered with crosses, and

fastened in jfront by a girdle of silver chains. Her neck is loaded with silver chains, amber necklaces, &c., and her head adorned with a coronet of scarlet cloth, studded with seed-pearls, jewels, glass beads, &c. The common dress is a long robe of indi, a cloth of coarse silk, spun from the cocoon of a large caterpillar that is found wild at the foot of the hills, and is also cultivated : it feeds on many diflferent leaves, Sal, castor oil, &c.

These people are gross feeders; * rice, however, forming their chief sustenance; it is grown without irrigation, and produces a large, flat, coarse grain, which becomes gelatinous, and often pink, when cooked. Pork is a staple dish; and they also eat elephant, and all kinds of animal food. When travelling, they live on whatever they can find, whether animal or vegetable. Fern-tops, roots of Scitamineae, and their flower-buds, various leaves, and fungi, are chopped up, fried with a little oil, and eaten. Their cooking is coarse and dirty. Salt is costly, but prized; pawn (Betel pepper) is never eaten. Tobacco they are too poor to buy, and too indolent to grow and cure. Spices, oil, &c., are relished.

They drink out of little wooden cups, turned from knots of maple or other woods; these are curious on several accounts; they are very pretty, often polished, and mounted with silver. Some are supposed to

* Dr. Campbell's definition of the Lepcha's Flora cibaria is, that he eats, or must have eaten, everything soft enongh to be chewed; for, as he knows whatever is poisonous, he must have tried all; his knowledge being* wholly empirical.

q2

be antidotes against poison, and hence fetch ah enormous price; they are of a peculiar wood, rarer and paler-coloured* I have paid a guinea for one such, hardly different from the common sort, which cost but 4d. or 6d. MM, Hue and Gabet graphically allude to this circumstance, when describing the purchase of cups at Lhassa, where their price is higher, as they are all imported from the Himalaya. The knots from which they are formed, are produced on the roots of oaks, maples, and other mountain forest trees, by a parasitical plant, known to botanists as Balanophora.

Their intoxicating drink, which seems more to excite than to debauch the mind, is partially fermented Murwa grain (Eleusine Coracana). Spirits are rather too strong to be relished raw, and when a glass of wine is given to one of the party, he sips it, and hands it round to all the rest. A long bamboo flute, with four or six burnt holes far below the mouth-hole, is the only musical instrument I have seen in use among them. When travelling, and the fatigues of the day are over, the Lepchas will sit for hours, chatting, telling stories, singing in a monotonous tone, or blowing the flute. I have often Kstened with real pleasure to the simple music of this rude instrument; its low and sweet tones are singularly -SloKan, as are the airs usually played, which fall by octaves: the sound seems to harmonise with the solitude of their primaeval forests, and he must have a dull ear who cannot draw from it the indication of a contented mind, whether he may relish its soft musical notes or not.

Their maniages are contracted in childhood, and the wife purchased by money, or by service rendered to the future father-in-law, the parties being often united before the woman leaves her parents' roof, in cases where the payment is not forthcoming, and the bridegroom prefers giving his and his wife's labour to her father for a stated period in lieu. On the time of service expiring, or the money being paid up, the marriage is publicly celebrated by feasting and riot. The females are generally chaste, and the marriage-tie is strictly kept, its violation being heavily punished by divorce, beating, slavery, &c. In cases of intermarriage with foreigners, the children belong to the father's country. All the labours of the house, the field, and march, devolve on the women and children, or slaves if they have them,

SmaU-pox is dreaded, and infected persons often cruelly shunned; a suspicion of this or of cholera frequently emptying a village or town in a night. Vaccination has been introduced by Dr. Pearson, and it is much practised by Dr. Campbell, it being eagerly sought. Cholera is scarcely known at Dorjiling, and when it has been imported thither has never spread. Disease is very rare amongst the Lepchas; and ophthalmia, elephantiasis, and leprosy, the scourges of hot climates, are rarely known. Goitre prevails, though not so conspicuously as amongst Tibetans, Bhotanese, and others. Eheumatism is frequent, and intermittent fevers, with ague; also violent and often fatal remittents, almost invariably induced by sleeping in the hot valleys, especially at the beginning and end of the

rains. The European complaints of liver and bowel disease are all but unknown. Death is regarded with horror. The dead are burnt or buried, sometimes both; much depending on custom and rank. Omens are sought in the entrails of fowls, &c., and other vestiges of a savage origin are still preserved, though now gradually disappearing.

The Lepchas profess no religion, though acknowledging the existence of good and bad spirits. To tlie good they pay no heed; " Why should we ? " they say, " the good spirits do us no harm; the evil spirits, who dwell in every rock, grove, and mountain, are constantly at mischief, and to them we must pray, for they hurt us." Every tribe has a priest-doctor; he neither knows nor attempts to practise the healing art, but is a pure exorcist; all bodily ailments being deemed the operations of devils, who are cast out by prayers and invocations. Still they acknowledge the Lamas to be very holy men, and were the latter only moderately active, they would soon convert all the Lepchas. Their priests are called " Bijooas : " they profess mendicancy, and seem intermediate between the begging friars of Tibet, whose dress and attributes they assume, and the exorcists of the aboriginal Lepchas: they sing, dance (masked and draped like harlequins), beg, bless, curse, and are merry mountebanks; those that affect more of the Lama Boodhist carry the "Mani," or revolving praying-machine, and wear rosaries and amulets; others again are all tatters and rags. They are often employed to carry messages, and to transact little knaveries. The natives stand in some awe of them,

and being besides of a generous disposition, keep the wallet of the Bijooa always full.

Such are some of the prominent features of this people, who inhabit the sub-Himalayas, between the Nepalese and Bhotan frontiers, at elevations of 3000 to 6000 feet. In their relations with us, they are conspicuous for their honesty, their power as carriers and mountaineers, and especially for their skill as woodsmen; for they will build a waterproof house with a thatch of banana leaves in the lower, or of bamboo in the elevated regions, and equip it with a table and bedstead for three persons, in an hour, using no implement but their heavy knife. Kindness and good humour soon attach them to your person and service. A gloomy-tempered or morose master they avoid, an unkind one they flee. K they serve a good hills-man like themselves, they will follow him with alacrity, sleep on the cold, bleak mountain, exposed to the pitiless rain, without a murmur, lay down the heavy burden to carry theii* master over a stream, or give him a helping hand up a rock or precipice—do anything, in short, but encounter a foe, for I believe the Lepcha to be a veritable coward. It is well, perhaps, he is so : for if a race, numerically so weak, were to embroil itself by resenting the injuries of the warlike Ghorkas, or dark Bhotanese, the folly would soon lead to destruction.

Before leaving the Lepchas, it may be worth men-. tioning that the northern parts of the countr}% towards the Tibet frontier, are inhabited by Sikkim Bhoteas *

* Bhote is the general name for Tibet (not Bhotan), and Eumpa is a large province, or district, in that country. The Bhotanese, natiyes of

•

(or Kumpas), a mixed race calling themselves Kumpa Bong, or Kumpa Lepchas; but they are emigrants from Tibet, having come with the first rajah of Sikkim. These people are more turbulent and bolder than the Lepchas, and retain much of tlieir Tibetan character, and even of that of the very province fi:om which they came; which is north-east of Lhassa, and inhabited by robbers. All the accounts I have received of it agree with those given by MM. Hue and Gabet.

Next to the Lepchas, the most numerous tribe in Sikkim is that of the Limboos (called " Chimg" by the Lepchas); they abound also in East Nepal, which they once ruled, inhabiting elevations from 2000 feet to 5000 feet. They are Boodhists, and though not divided into castes, belong to several tribes. All consider themselves as the earliest inhabitants of the Tambur Valley, though they have a tradition of having originally emigrated jfrom Tibet, which their Tartar countenance confirms. They are more slender and sinewy than the Lepchas, and neither plait their hair nor wear ornaments; instead of the ban they use the Nepal curved knife, called "cookree," while for the striped kirtle of the Lepcha are substituted loose cotton trousers and a tight jacket; a sash is worn round the middle, and on the head a small cotton cap. When they ruled over East Nepal, their system was feudal; and on their uniting against the Nepalese, they were

Bhotan, or of the Dlmrma country, are caUed Dliurma people, in allnaion to their spiritual chief, the Dhnrma BaJaL They are a darker and more powerfdl race, rude, turbulent, and Tibetan in language and religion, with the worst features of those people exaggerated.

with difficulty dislodged from their strongholds. They are said to be equally bntve and cruel in battle, putting the old and weak to the sword, carrying the younger into slavery, and killing on the march such captives as are unable to proceed. Many enlist at Doqiling, which the Lepchas never do; and the rajah of Nepal employs them in his army, where, however, they seldom obtain promotion, this being reserved for soldiers of Hindoo tribes. Latterly Jung Bahadur levied a force of 6000 of them, who were cantoned at Katmandoo, where the cholera breaking out, carried oflF some himdreds, causing many families who dreaded conscription to flock to Dorjiling. Their habits are so similar to those of the Lepchas, that they constantly intermariy with them. They mourn, bum, and bury their dead, raising a mound over the corpse, erecting a headstone, and surrounding the grave with a little paling of sticks; they then scatter eggs and pebbles over the groimd. Li these offices the Bijooa of the Lepchas is employed, but the Limboo has also priests of his own, called " Phedangbos," who belong to rather a higher order than the Bijooas. They officiate at marriages, when a cock is put into the bridegroom's hands, and a hen into those of the bride; the Phedangbo then cuts off the birds* heads, when the. blood is caught on a plantain leaf, and runs into pools from which omens are drawn. At death, gims are fired, to announce to the gods the departure of the spirit; of these there are many, having one supreme head, and to them offerings and sacrifices are made. They do not believe in metempsychosis.

o3

The Moormis are the only other native tribe remaining in any numbers in Sikkim, except the Tibetans of the loftier mountains (whom I shall mention at a future period), and the Mechis of the pestilential Terai, the forests of which they never leave. The Moormis are a scattered people, of Tibetan origin, and called " Nishung," jfrom being composed of two branches, respectively from the districts of Nimo and Shung, both on the road between Sikkim and Lhassa. They are now most numerous in central and eastern Nepal, and are a pastoral and agricultural people, inhabiting elevations of 4000 to 6000 feet, and living in stone houses, thatched with grass. They are a large, powerful, and active race, grave, very plain in features, with littie hair on the face. Both their language and religion are purely Tibetan.

The Magras, a tribe now confined to Nepal west of the Arun, are aborigines of Sikkim, whence they were driven by the Lepchas westward into the country of the Limboos, and by these latter further west still. They are said to have been savages, and not of Tibetan origin, and are now converted to Hindooism.

It is curious to observe that these mountains do not appear to have afforded refuge to the Tamulian* aborigines of India proper: aU the Himalayan tribes of Sikkim being markedly Mongolian in origLn. It does not, however, follow that they are all of Tibetan

* The Tamtdians are the Coles, Dangas, &c., of the motuitams of Central India and the peninsula, who retired to mountain Justnesses, on the invasion of their country by the Indo-Germanic conquerors, who are now represented by the Hindoos.

extraction ; perhaps, indeed, none but tlie Moormis are so. The Mechi of the Terai is decidedly Indo-Chinese, and of the same stock as the savage races of Assam, the north-east and east frontier of Bengal, Arracan, Burmah, &c.

The laws affecting the distribution of plants, and the lower animals, materially influence the migrations of man also ; and as the botany, zoology, and climate of the Malayan and Siamese peninsula advance far westwards into India, along the foot of the Himalaya, so do also the varieties of the human race. These features are most conspicuously displayed in the natives of Assam, on botli sides of the Burrampooter, as far as the great bend of that river, beyond which they gradually disappear; and none of the Himalayan tribes west of that point practise the bloody and brutal rites in war that prevail amongst the Cookies, Khasias, Garrows, and other Indo-Chinese tribes of the mountain forests of Assam, Eastern Bengal, and the Malay peninsula.

That six or seven different tribes, without any feudal system or coercive head, with different languages and customs, should dwell in close proximity and in peace and unity, within the confined territory of Sikkim, even for a limited period, is an anomaly; the more especially when it is considered that with the exception of a tincture of the Boodhist religion among some few of the people, they are all but savages, as low in the scale of intellect as the New Zealander or the Tahitian, and beneath those races in ingenuity and skill as craftsmen. Wars have been waged

DOBJILING.

Chap. V.

amongst them, but they were neither sanguinary nor destmctiYe, and the fact remains no less remarkable, that at the period of our occupying Dorjiling, friendship and unanimity signed amongst all these tribes; from the Tibetan at 14,000 feet, to the Mechi of the plains; under a sovereign whose temporal power was wholly unsupported by even the semblance of arms, and whose spiritual supremacy was acknowledged by very few.

f0^^{''

J :■/:>

LEPCHA AMULET.

CHAPTER VI.

Excursion from Dorjiling to Great Rungeet—Zones of vegetation — Tree-ferns—Palms—Leebong, tea plantations—Ging—Boodhist remains— Tropical vegetation—Pines—Lepcha clearances—Forest fires—^Boodhist monuments—Fig—Cane bridge and raft over Rungeet—India-rubber —Yel Pote—Butterflies and other insects—Snakes—Camp—Junction of Teesta and Rungeet—Return to Dorjiling—Tonglo, excursion to —^Bamboo flowering—Oaks—Peepsa—Simonbong, cultivation at— European finiits at Dorjiling—Plains of India.

A VERY favourite and interesting excursion from DorjUing is to the cane bridge over the Great Rungeet river, 6000 feet below the station. To this an excellent road has been cut, by which the whole descent of six miles, as the crow flies, is easily performed on pony-back; the road distance being only eleven miles. I several times made this trip; on the excursion about to be described, and in which I was accompanied by Mr. Barnes, I followed the Great Rungeet to the Teesta, into which it flows.

In descending from Dorjiling, the zones of vegetation are well marked by—1. The oak, chesnut, and Magnolias.—2. Immediately below 6,500 feet, the tree-fern appears, a widely-distributed plant, common from Nepal eastward to the Malayan peninsula, Java, and Ceylon.—3. Of palms, a species of Rattan-cane, and

• Plectocomia; the latter, though not a very large plant, climbs lofty trees, and extends about 40 yards through the forest.— A. The fourth striking feature is a wild plantain, which ascends to nearly the same elevation. This is replaced by another, and rather larger species, at lower elevations; both ripen austere and small fruits, which are full of seeds, and quite uneatable: that commonly grown in Sikkim is an introduced Btoek; it is very large, but poor in flavour, and does not bear seeds. The zones of these conspicuous plants are very clearly defined, and especially if the traveller, standing on one of the innimierable spurs which project from the Doijiling ridge, cast his eyes up the gorges of green on either hand.

At 1000 feet below Dorjiling a fine wooded spm' projects, called Leebong. This beautiful spot is fully ten degrees warmer than Mr. Hodgson's house, and enjoys considerably more sunshine; peaches and English fruit-trees flourish extremely well, but do not ripen frxiit. The tea-plant succeeds here admirably, and might be cultivated to great profit, and be of advantage in furthering a trade with Tibet. It has been tried on a large scale by Dr. Campbell at his residence (alt. 7000 feet), but the frosts and snow of that height injure it, as do the hailstorms in spring.

Below Leebong is the village of Ging, surrounded by. steeps, cultivated with maize, rice, and millet. It is rendered very picturesque by a long row of tall poles, each bearing a narrow, vertically elongated banner, covered with Boodhist inscriptions, and surmounted by coronet-like ornaments, or spear-heads.

rudely cut out of wood, or formed of basket-work, and adorned with cotton fringe. Ging is peopled by Bhotan emigrants, and when one dies, if his relations can afford to pay for them, two additional poles and flags are set up by the Lamas in honour of his memory, and that of Sunga, the third member of the Boodhist Trinit}-.

The heat and hardness of the rocks cause the streams to dry up on these abrupt hills, especially on the eastern slope, and the water is therefore conveyed along the sides of the path, in conduits ingeniously made of bamboo, either split in half, or, what is better, whole, except at the septimi, which is removed through a lateral hole.

At about 2000 feet, and ten miles distant from Dorjiling, we arrived at a low, long spur, dipping down to the bed of the Eungeet, at its junction with the Eungmo. This is close to the boundary of the British ground, and there is a guard-house, and a sepoy or two at it; here we halted. It took the Lepchas about twenty minutes to construct a table and two bedsteads within our tent; each was made of four forked sticks, stuck in the ground, supporting as many side-pieces, across which were laid flat split pieces of bamboo, bound tightly together by strips of the stem of the rattan-palm. The beds were afterwards softened by many layers of bamboo leaves, and if not very downy, they were dry, and as firm as if put together with screws and joints.

This spur rises out of a deep valley, quite sm*-rounded by lofty mountains; it is narrow, and covered with red clay, which the natives chew as a cure for

goitre. North, it looks down into a gully, at the bottom of which the Rungeet's foamy stream winds through a dense forest. In the opposite direction, the Eungmo comes tearing down from the top of Sinchul, 7000 feet above; and though its roar is heard, and its course is visible throughout its length, the stream itself is nowhere seen, so deep does it cut its channel. Except on this, and a few similarly hard rocky hills around, the vegetation is a mass of wood and jungle. At this spot it is rather scanty and dry, with abundance of the long-leaved Pine and Sal. The dwarf date-palm also is very abundant.

The descent to the river was exceedingly steep, the banks presenting an impenetrable jungle. The pines on the arid crests of the hills around formed a remarkable feature: they grow like the Scotch fir, their tall, red trunks springing from the steep and dry slopes. But little resin exudes from the stem, which, like that of most pines, is singularly free from lichens and mosses; its wood is excellent, and the charcoal of the burnt leaves is used as a pigment.

The Lepcha never inhabits the same spot for more than three successive years, after which an increased rent is demanded by the Eajah. He therefore squats in any place which he can render profitable for that period, and then moves to another. His first operation, after selecting a site, is to bum the jungle; then he clears away the trees, and cultivates between the stumps. At this season, firing the jungle is a frequent practice, and the effect by night is exceedingly fine; a forest, so idry and full of bamboo, and extending over

such steep hills, affording grand blazing spectacles. Heavy clouds canopy the mountains above, and, stretching across the valleys, shut out the firmament; the air is a dead cahn, as usual in these deep gorges, and the fires, invisible by day, are seen raging all aroimd, appearing to an inexperienced eye in all but dangerous proximity. The voices of birds and insects being hushed, nothing is audible but the harsh roar of the rivers, and occasionally, rising far above it, that of .the forest fires. At night we were literally surrounded by them ; some smouldering, like shale-heaps at a colliery, others fitfully bursting forth, whilst others again stalked along with a steadily increasing and enlarging flame, shooting out great tongues of fire, which spared nothing as they advanced with irresistible might. Their triumph is in reaching a great bamboo clump, when the noise of the flames drowns that of the torrents, and as the great stem-joints burst, from the expansion of the confined air, the report is as that of a salvo from a park of artiller3\ At Dorjiling the blaze is visible, and the deadened reports of the bamboos bursting is heard throughout the night; but in the valley, and within a mile of the scene of destruction, the effect is the most grand, being heightened by tlie glare reflected from the masses of mist which hover above.

On the following morning we pursued a path to the bed of the river; passing a rude Boodhist monument, a pile of slate-rocks, with an attempt at the mystical hemisphere at top. A few flags or banners, and slabs of slate, were inscribed with the sacred characters

**0m Mani Padini om.** Placed on a jutting angle of the spur, backed with the pine-clad hills, and flanked by a torrent on either hand, the spot was wild and picturesque; and I could not but gaze with a feeling of deep interest on these emblems of a religion which perhaps numbers more votaries than any other on the face of the globe. Boodhism in some form is the predominating creed, from Siberia and Kamschatka to Ceylon, from the Caspian steppes to Japan, throughout China, Burmah, Ava, and a part of the Malayan Archipelago. Its associations enter into every book of travels over these vast regions, with Boodh, Dhurma, Sunga, Jos, Fo, and praying-wheels. The mind is arrested by the names, the imagination captivated by the symbols; and though I could not worshij> in the grove, it was impossible to deny to the inscribed stones such a tribute as is conunanded by the first glimpse of objects which have long been familiar to our minds, but not previously oflfered to our senses. My head Lepcha went further: to a due observance of demon-worship he imited a deep reverence for the Lamas, and he venerated their symbols rather as theirs than as those of their religion. He walked round the pile of stones three times from left to right repeating his " Cm Mani," &c., then stood before it with his head hung down and his long queue streaming behind, and concluded by a votive offering of three pine-cones. When done, he looked round at me, nodded, smirked, elevated the angles of his little tumed-up eyes, and seemed to think we were safe from all perils in the valleys yet to be explored.

EUNGEBT VALLEY.

189

In the valley of the Rungeet the heat was mtolerable, though the thermometer did not rise above 95°. The mountams leave but a narrow gorge between them, here

PINES (PINUS LONGIFOUA), BUNOEKT VALLEV.

and there bordered by a belt of rich soil, supporting a towering crop of long cane-like grasses and tall trees.

The troubled river, about eighty yards ^^ide, rushes along over a gravelly bed. Crossing the Rungmo, where it falls into the Rungeet, we came upon a group of natives drinking fermented Murwa liquor, under a rock; I had a good deal of difficulty in getting my people past, and more in inducing one of the topers to take the place of a Ghorka (Nepalese) of our party who was ill with fever. Soon afterwards, at a most wild and beautiful spot, I saw, for the first time, one of the most characteristic of Himalayan objects of art, a cane bridge. All the spurs, round the bases of which the river flowed, were steep and rocky, their flanks clothed with the richest tropical forest, their crests tipped with pines. On the river's edge, the Banana, screw-i)ine, and Bauhinia, were frequent, 'and Figs prevailed. One of the latter (of an exceedingly beautiful species) projected over the stream, growing out of a mass of rock, its roots interlaced and grasping at every available support, while its branches, loaded with deep glossy foliage, hung over the water. This tree formed one pier for the canes; that on the opposite bank was constructed of strong piles, propped with large stones; and between them swimg the bridge,* about eighty yards long, ever rocking over the torrent (forty feet below). The lightness and extreme simplicity of its structure were very remarkable. Two parallel canes, on the same horizontal plane, were stretched across the stream; from them others hung in loops, and along the loops were laid one or two bamboo stems for flooring; cross pieces .below this flooring, hung from the two upper canes, which they thus served

* A sketch of one of these bridges wiU be found in Vol. ii.

to keep apart. The traveller grasps one of the canes in either hand, and walks along the loose bamboos laid on the swinging loops: the motion is great, and the rattling of the loose dry bamboos is neither a musical soimd, nor one calculated to inspire confidence; the whole structure seeming as if about to break do>Mi. With

shoes it is not easy to walk; and even with bare feet it is often difficult, there being frequently but one bamboo, which, if the fastening is loose, tilts up, leaving the pedestrian suspended over the torrent by the slender canes. Wlien properly and strongly made, with good fastenings, and a floor of bamboos laid transversely, these bridges are easy to cross. The canes are procured from a species of rattan; they are as thick as the finger, and twenty or thirty yards long, knotted together; and the other pieces are fastened to them by strips of the same plant. A Lepcha, carrying one himdred and forty pounds on his back, crosses without hesitation, slowly but steadily, and with perfect confidence.

A deep broad pool below the bridge was made available for a ferry: the boat was a triangular raft of bamboo stems, with a stage on the top, and it was secured on the opposite side of the stream, having a

cane reaching across to that on which we were. The bridge being in a dilapidated condition, a stout Lepcha leapt into the boiling flood, and boldly swam across, holding on by the cane, without wliich he would have been carried away. He unfastened the raft, and we drew it over by the cane, and, seated on the stage, up to our knees in water, we were pulled across; the raft bobbing up and down over the rippling stream.

We were beyond British ground, on the opposite bank, where any one guiding Europeans is threatened with punishment: we had expected a guide to follow us, but his non-appearance caused us to delay for some hours; four roads, or rather forest paths, meeting here, all of which were difficult to trace. After a while, part of a wedding-procession came up, headed by the bridegroom, a handsome young Lepcha, leading a cow for the marriage feast; and after talking to him a little, he volunteered to show us the path. Much of the forest had been burnt, and we traversed large blackened patches, where the heat was intense, and increased by the burning tnmks of prostrate trees, which smoulder for months, and leave a heap of white ashes. The larger timber being hollow in the centre, a current of air is produced, which causes the interior to bum rapidly, till the sides fall in, and all is consumed. I was often startled, when walking in the forest, by the hot blast proceeding from such, which I had approached without a suspicion of their being other than cold dead trunks.

Leaving the forest, the path led along the river bank, and over the great masses of rock which strewed its

course. The beautiful India-rubber fig was common, as was Bassia butyracea, the " Yel Pote " of the Lepchas, from the seeds of which they express a concrete oil, which is received and hardens in bamboo vessels. On the forest-skirts, parasitical orchids and Ferns abounded; the Chaulmoogra, whose fruit is used to intoxicate fish, was very common; as was an immense mulberry tree, that yields a milky juice and produces a long green sweet fruit. Large fish, chiefly Cj^prinoid, were abim-dant in the beautifully clear water of the river. But by far the most striking feature consisted in the amazing quantity of superb butterflies, large tropical swallow-tails, black, with scarlet or yellow eyes on their wings. They were seen everywhere, sailing majestically through the still hot air, or fluttering from one scorching rock to another, and especially loving to settle on the damp sand of the river-edge; where they sat by thousands, with ^rect wings, balancing themselves with a rocking motion, as their heavy sails inclined them to one side or the other; resembling a crowded fleet of yachts on a cahn day. Such an entomological display cannot be surpassed. Cicindela were very numerous, and in-credibly active, as were locusts; and the great cicadas were everywhere lighting on the groimd, when they uttered a short, sharp, creaking sound, and anon disappeared, as if by magic. Beautiful whip-snakes were gleaming in the sun: they hold on by a few coils of the tail round a twig, the greater part of their body stretched out horizontally, occasionally retracting, and darting an imerring aim at some insect. The narrowness of the gorge, and the excessive steepness of the bounding

hills, prevented any view, except of tlie opposite mountain face, which was clothed with a dense forest, in which the wild Banana was conspicuous. ^

Towards evening we arrived at another cane-bridge, still more dilapidated than the former, but similar in structure. For a few hundred yards before reaching it, we lost the path, and followed the precipitous face of slate-rocks overhanging the stream, which dashed with great violence below. Though we could not walk comfortably, even with our shoes off, the Lepchas, bearing their enormous loads, proceeded with perfect indifference.

Anxious to avoid sleeping at the bottom of the valley, we crawled, very much fatigued, through burnt dry forest, up a very sharp ridge, so narrow that the tent sat astride on it, the ropes being fastened to the tops of small trees on either slope. The ground swarmed with black ants, which, got into our tea, sugar, &c., while it was so covered with charcoal, that we were soon begrimed. Our Lepchas preferred remaining on the river-bank, whence they had to bring up water to us, in great bamboo " chungis," as they are called. The great dryness of this face is owing to its southern exposure; the opposite moimtains, equally high and steep, being clothed in a rich green forest.

Our course down the river was by so rugged a path, that, giddy and footsore with leaping from rock to rock, we at last attempted the jungle, but it proved utterly impervious. On turning a bend of the stream, the mountains of Bhotan suddenly presented themselves, with the Teesta flowing at their base; and we emerged

at the angle formed by the junction of tlie Rungeet, which we had followed from tlie west, of the Teesta, coming from the north, and of their united streams flowing south.

We were not long before enjo}ing tlie water, when I was surprised to find that of the Teesta singularly cold, its temperature being 7° below that of the Rungeet.* At tlie salient angle (a rocky peninsula) of their junction, we could almost place one foot in the cold stream and the other in the warmer. There is a no less marked difference in the colour of the two rivers; the Teesta being sea-green and muddy, the Great Rimgeet dark green and very clear; and the waters, like those of the Arve and Rhone at Geneva, preserve their colours for some hundred yards, the line separating the two being most distinctly drawn. The Teesta, or main stream, is much the broadest (about 80 or 100 yards wide at this season), most rapid and deepest. The rocks which skirt its bank were covered with a silt or mud deposit, which I nowhere observed along the Great Rimgeet, and which, as well as its colour and coldness, was owing to the vast number of then melting glaciers drained by this river. The Rungeet, on the other hand, though it rises amongst the glaciers of Kinchinjunga and its sister peaks, is chiefly supplied by the rainfall of the outer ranges of Sinchul and Singalelah, and hence its waters are clear, except during the height of the rains.

* This is, no doubt, due partly to the Teesta flowing south, and thus having less of the sun, and partly to its draining snowy mountains throughout a much longer portion of its course.

TOL. I. H

From this place we returned to Dorjiling, arriving on the afternoon of the following day.

The most interesting trip to be made from Doqiling, is that to the summit of Tonglo, a mountain on the Singalelah range, 10,079 feet high, due west of the station, and twelve miles in a straight line, but fully thirty by the path.

Leaving the station by a native path, the latter plunges at once into a forest, and descends very rapidly, occasionally emerging on cleared spurs, where are fine crops of various millets, with much maize and rice. Of the latter grain as many as eight or ten varieties are cultivated, but seldom irrigated, which, owing to the dampness of the climate, is not necessary : the produce is often eighty-fold, but the grain is large, coarse, reddish, and rather gelatinous when boiled.

At about 4000 feet the great bamboo (" Pao" Lepcha) abounds; it flowers every year, which is not the case with all the species of this genus, most of which flower profusely over large tracts of country, once in a great many years, and then die away; their place being supplied by seedlings, which grow with immense rapidity. This well-known fact is not due, as some suppose, to the life of the species being of such a duration, but to favourable circumstances in the season. The Pao attains a height of 40 to 60 feet, and the culms average in thickness the hmnan thigh; it is used for large water-vessels, and its leaves form admirable thatch, in universal use for European houses at Doijiling. Besides this, the Lepchas are acquainted with nearly a dozen kinds of bamboo; these occur at

BAMBOOS.

147

various elevations below 12,000 feet, forming, even in the pine-woods, and above their zone, in the skirts of the Ehododendron scrub, a small and sometimes almost

^'■^^.

LEPCHA WATSR-CARBUCR WITH A BAMBOO CHT7N0I.

impervious jungle. In an economical point of view they may be classed as those which split readily, and those which do not. The young shoots of several are

b2

ekten, and the seeds of one are made info a fermented drink, and into bread in times of scarcity; but it would take many pages to describe the numerous purposes to which the various species are put.

Some low steep spurs were well cultivated, though the angle of the field was upwards of 25°; the crops, chiefly maize, were just sprouting. The flowers of this plant are occasionally hermaphrodite in Sikkim, where they form a large drooping panicle and ripen small grains; this is, however, a rare occurrence, and the specimens are highly valued by the people.

The general prevalence of figs, and their allies, the nettles,* is a remarkable feature in the botany of the Sikkim Himalaya, up to nearly 10,000 feet. Of the former there were here five species, some bearing eatable and very palatable fruit of enormous size, others with the fruit small, and borne on prostrate, leafless branches, which spring from the root and creep along the ground.

A troublesome, dipterous insect (the "Peepsa," a species of Sirmdium) swarms on the banks of the streams; it is very small and black, floating like a speck before the eye; its bite leaves a spot of extra-vasated blood under the cuticle, very irritating if not opened.

Crossing the Little Eungeet river, we camped at the

* Of two of these cloth is made, and of a third, cordage. The tops of two are eatenj as are several species of ProcrU, To this order belongs the "Poa," from the fibre of which is made that kind of grass-cloth now abundantly imported into England from the Malay Islands, and used extensively for shirting.

base of Tonglo, The night was caku and clear, with faint cirrus, but no dew; and the following morning was bright, and clear over head, though the clouds over the mountains looked threatening. Dorjiling, perched on a ridge 5000 feet above us, had a singular appearance. We ascended the Simonbong spur of Tonglo, so called from a small village and Lama temple of that name on its summit; where we arrived at noon, and passing some chaits * gained the Lama's residence.

Two species of bamboo, the " Payong " and " Praong " of the Lepchas, here replace the Pao of the lower regions. The former was flowering abundantly, the whole of the culms (which were 20 feet liigh) being a diffuse panicle of inflorescence. The " Praong " bears a round head of flowers at the ends of the leafy branches. Wild strawbeny, violet, geranium, &c., marked our approach to the temperate zone. Around the temple were potato crops and peach-trees, rice, millet, yam, brinjal (egg-apple), fennel, hemp (for smoking its narcotic leaves), and cummin, &c. The potato thrives extremely well as a summer crop, at 7000 feet, in Sikkim, though I think the root (from the Dorjiling stock) cultivated as a winter crop in the plains, is superior both in size and flavour. Peaches never ripen in this part of Sikkim, apparently from the want of sun; the tree grows well at from 3000 to 7000 feet

* The chait of Sikkim, borrowed from Tiljet, is a square pedestal, surmounted by a hemisphere, the conyex end downwards, and on it is placed a cone, with a crescent on the top. These are erected as monuments to Lamas, and illustrious persons, and are yenerated accordingly, the people always passing them from left to right, often repeating the inyocation, **OmMamPadmiom."

elevation, and flowers abundantly; the fruit making the nearest approach to maturity (according to the elevation) between July and October. At Doijiling it follows the English seasons, flowering in March and fruiting in September, when the scarce reddened and still hard fruit falls from the tree.

It is curious that throughout this temperate region, there is hardly an eatable fruit except the native walnut, and some brambles, of which the "yellow" and " ground *' raspberries are the best, some insipid figs, and a very austere crab-apple. The European apple will scarcely ripen, and the pear not at all. Currants and gooseberries show no disposition to thrive, and strawberries are the only fruits that really ripen, which they do in the greatest abundance. Vines, figs, pomegranates, plums, apricots, &c., will not succeed even as trees. European vegetables again grow, and thrive remarkably well throughout the summer of Dorjiling, and the produce is very fair, sweet and good, but inferior in flavour to the English.

Of tropical fruits cultivated below 4000 feet, oranges and indifferent bananas alone are frequent, with lemons of various kinds. The season for these is, however,, very short; oranges abound in winter, and are excellent,, but neither so large nor free from white pulp as those of the Khasia hills, the West Indies, or the west coast of Africa. Mangos are brought from the plains, for though wild in Sikkim, the cultivated kinds do not thrive; I have seen the pine-apple plant, but I never met with good fruit on it.

A singular and almost total absence of the direct

rays of the sun during the ripening season, is the cause of this dearth of firuit. Both the farmer and orchard gardener in England know full well the value of a bright sky as well as of a warm autumnal atmosphere. Without this com does not ripen, and fruit-trees are blighted. The winter of the plains of India being more analogous in its distribution of moisture and heat to a European summer, such fruits as the peach, vine, and even plum, fig, strawberry, &c., may be brought to bear well in March, April, and May, if they are only carefully tended through the previous hot and damp season, which is, in respect to the functions of flowering and fruiting, their winter.

Hence it appears that, though some English fruits will turn the winter solstice of Bengal (November to May) into summer, and then flower and fruit, neither these nor others will thrive in the summer of 7000 feet on the Sikkim Himalaya, (though its temperature so nearly approaches that of England,) on account of its rain and fogs. Further, they are often exposed to a winter's cold equal to the average of that of London, the snow lying for a week on the ground, and the thermometer descending to 25°. It is true that in no case is the extreme of cold so great here as in England, but it is suflScient to check vegetation, and to prevent fruit-trees from flowering till they are fruiting at the level of the sea. There is in this respect a great difference between the climate of the central and eastern and western Himalaya, at equal elevations. In the western (Simla, &c.) the winters are colder than in Sikkim— the smnmers warmer and less humid. The rainy

season is shorter, and the sun shines so much more frequently between the heavy showers, that the apple and other fruits are brought to a much better state. The rain-gauge may show as great a fall there, but this is no measure of the humidity of the atmosphere, and still less so of the amount of the sun's direct light and heat intercepted by aqueous vapour, for that instrument takes no account of the quantity of moisture suspended in the air, nor of the depositions from fogs, which are far more fatal to the perfecting of fruits than the heaviest brief showers.

The Indian climate, where it is marked by one season of excessive humidity and the other of excessive drought, can never be favourable to the production either of good European or tropical fruits. For this reason not one of the latter is peculiar to the coimtry, and perhaps but one which arrives at fiill perfection; namely, the mango. The plantains, oranges, and pineapples are less abundant, of inferior kinds, and remain a shorter season in perfection than they do in South. America, the West Indies, or Western Africa.

CHAPTER VII.

Continue the ascent of Tonglo—Trees—^Lepcha constrnction of hut—Simai-bong—Climbing-treea—Frogs—Ticks—Leeches—Summit of Tonglo— Ehododendrons—Yew—Rose—^Aconite—^Bikh poison—English genera of plants—Ascent of tropical orders—Comparison with south temperate zone—Heavy rain—Temperature, &c.—Descent—Simonbong temple— Furniture therein—Praying-cylinder—Thigh-bone trumpet—^Morning orisons—^Present of Murwa beer, &c.

Above Simonbong, the path up Tonglo is little frequented, although it is one of the many routes between Nepal and Sikkim, which cross the Singalelah spur of Kinchinjunga at various elevations between 7000 and 15,000 feet. As usual, the track runs along steep and narrow ridges, wherever these are to be found, through deep humid forests of oaks and Magnolias, many laurels, and a species of cinnamon, ascending to 8,500 feet. Chesnut and walnut here appeared, with some leguminous trees, which however did not ascend to 6000 feet. Scarlet flowers of an epiphytical Vaccinium, were strewed about, and the great blossoms of Rhododendron Dalhousice and of a Magnolia lay together on the ground. The latter forms a tree, with very dense foliage, and shining deep green leaves, a foot to eighteen inches long. Most of its flowers drop imexpanded from the tree, and diffuse a

very aromatic odour; they are nearly as large as the fist, the outer petals purple, the inner pure white.

Heavy rain came on at 3 p.m., obliging us to seek the nearest camping-ground. For this purpose we ascended to a spring, called Simsibong, at an elevation of 6000 feet; where the Lepchas rapidly constructed a house, and thatched it with bamboo and the broad leaves of the wild plantain. A table was then raised in the middle, of four posts and as many cross pieces of wood, lashed together with strips of bamboo. Across these, pieces of bamboo were laid, ingeniously flattened, by selecting cylinders, crimping them all roimd, and then slitting each down one side so that it opened into a flat slab. Similar but longer and lower erections, one on each side the table, formed bed or chair; and in one hour, half a dozen men, with only long knives and active hands, had provided us with a tolerably watertight furnished house. A thick flooring of bamboo leaves kept the feet dry, and a screen of foliage all roimd rendered the habitation tolerably warm.

We here foimd many large scandent trees twisting around the trunks of others, and strangling them: the latter gradually decay, leaving the sheath of climbers as one of the most remarkable vegetable phenomena of these mountains. These climbers belong to several orders, and may be roughly classified in two groups.—(1.) Those whose stems merely twine, and by constricting certain parts of their support, induce death.—(2.) Those which form a net-work round the trunk, by the coalescence of their branches and aerial roots, &c.: these wholly envelope and often conceal the

GLASPINa TEEES.

155

tree they enclose, whose branches appear rising far above those of its destroyer. To the first of these

CLASPINO ROOTS OF WIQHTIA.

groups belong many natural orders, of which the most prominent are—leguminous and axoid plants, ivies,

hydrangea, and vines. The inosculating ones are almost all figs and Wightia, a plant allied to Bignonia: the latter is the most remarkable, and I give a cut of its grasping roots, sketched at our encampment.

Except for the occasional hooting of an owl, the night was profoundly still during several hours after dark—the cicadas at this season not ascending so high on the mountain. A dense mist shrouded every thing, and the rain pattered on the leaves of our hut. At midnight a tree-frog broke the silence with his curious metallic clack, and others quickly joined the chorus, keeping up their strange music till morning. Like many Batrachians, this has a voice singularly imlike that of any other organised creature. The cries of beasts, birds, and insects are all explicable to our senses, and we can recognise most of them as belonging to such or such an order of animal; but the voices of many frogs are like nothing else, and allied species utter totally dissimilar notes. In some, as this, the sound is like the concussion of metals; in others, of the vibration of wires or cords; anything but the natural eflfects of lungs, larynx, and muscles.*

On the following morning we proceeded upwards, though our prospect was more gloomy than ever. The path, which still led up steep ridges, was very slippery, owing to the rain upon the clayey soil, and was only passable from the hold afiforded by the interlacing roots of trees.

A large tick infested the small bamboo, and a more

* A very common Tasmanian species utters a sound that appears to ring in an underground vaulted chamber, beneath the feet.

hateful insect I never encountered. The traveller cannot prevent these ingiects coming on his person (sometimes in great numbers) as he brushes through the forest; they get inside his dress, and insert their proboscis deeply without pain. Buried head and shoulders, and retained by a barbed lancet, the tick is only to be extracted by force, which is very painful. I have devised many tortures, mechanical and chemical, to induce these disgusting intruders to withdraw their proboscis, but in vain. Leeches also swarm below 7000 feet; a small black species above 3000 feet, and a large yellow-brown solitary one below that elevation. Our ascent to the summit was by the bed of a watercourse, now a roa^ring torrent, from the heavy and incessant rain. The top of the moimtain is another flat ridge, with depressions and broad pools. The number of additional species of plants found here was great, and all betokened a rapid approach to the alpine region of the Himalaya. The trees were principally —^the scarlet Rhododendron arboreum and barbatvm, large bushy luxuriant trees, loaded with beautiful flowers; R. Falconeriy in point of foliage the . most superb of all the Himalayan species, with trunks thirty feet high, and branches bearing at their ends only leaves eighteen inches long: these are deep greeil above, and covered beneath with a rich brown down. There were still a few purple Magnolias, very large Pyri, like mountain ash, and the common English yew, eighteen feet in circumference, the red bark of which is used as a dye, and for staining the foreheads of the Brahmins in Nepal. An erect white-flowered rose

(jB. sericea, the only species occurring in Southern Sikkim) was very abundant: its numerous inodorous flowers are pendent, apparently as a protection from the rain; and it is remarkable as being the only species having four petals instead of five. A currant was common, always growing epiphytically on the trunks of large trees. Amongst the herbs were many of great interest, as a rhubarb, and an aconite, which yields one of the celebrated " Bikh " poisons. Of European genera I foimd Thalictrum, Anemone, Fumaria, violets, Stel-laria, Hypericum, two geraniums, balsams, Epilobium, Potentilla, Paris and Convallarice; one of the latter has verticillate leaves, and its root, also called " bikh," is considered a very virulent poison.

Still, the absence or rarity at this elevation of several very large natural families, which have numerous representatives at and much below the same level in the inner ranges, and on the outer of the Western Himalaya, indicates a decided peculiarity in Sikkim. On the other hand, certain tropical genera are more abimdant in the temperate zone of the Sikkim mountains, and ascend much higher there than in the Western Himalaya: of this fact we have conspicuous examples in the palms, plantains, and tree-ferns. The ascent and prevalence of tropical species is due to the humidity and equability of the climate in this temperate zone, and is, perhaps, the direct consequence of these conditions. An application of the same laws accounts for the extension of similar plants far beyond the tropical limit in the Southern Ocean, where various natural orders, which do not cross the 30th and 40th

parallels of N. latitude, are extended to the 55th of S. latitude, and are found in Tasmania, New Zeaknd, the so-called Antarctic Islands south of that group, and at Gape Horn itself.

The rarity of Pines is perhaps the most curious feature in the botany of Tonglo, and on the outer ranges of Sikkim; for, between the level of 2,500 feet (the upper limit of the long-leaved Pine) and 10,000 feet (that of the Yew), there is no coniferous tree whatever on the outer ranges of Southern Sikkim.

We encamped amongst Rhododendrons, on a spongy soil of black vegetable matter, so oozy, that it was difficult to keep the feet dry. The rain poured in torrents all the evening, and with the calm, and the wetness of the wood, prevented our enjoying a fire. Except a transient view into Nepal, a few miles west of us, nothing was to be seen, the whole mountain being wrapped in dense masses of vai^our. Gusts of wind, not felt in the forest, whistled through the gnarled and naked tree-tops; and though the temperature was 50°, this wind produced cold to the feelings. Our poor Lepchas were miserably ofif, but always happy: under four posts and a bamboo-leaf thatch^ with no covering but a single thin cotton garment, they crouched on the sodden turf, joking with the Hindoos of our party, who, though supplied with good clothing and shelter, were doleful companions. • I made a shed for my instruments imder a tree; Mr. Barnes, ever active and ready, floored the tent with logs of wood, and I laid a "corduroy road " of the same to my little observatory.

During the night the rain did not abate; and the tent-roof leaked in such torrents that we had to throw pieces of wax-cloth over our shoulders as we lay in bed; and there was no improvement whatever in the weather on the following morning. Two of the Hindoos crawled into the tent during the night, attacked with fever and ague. The tent being too sodden to be carried, we had to remain where we were, but with abundance of novelty in the botany around, I found no diflSculty in getting through the day. Observing the track of sheep, we sent two Lepchas to foUow them, who returned at night from some miles west in Nepal, bringing two. The shepherds were Geroongs of Nepal, who were grazing their flocks on a grassy moimtain top from which the woods had been cleared, probably by fire. The mutton was a great boon to the Lepchas, but the Hindoos would not touch it, and several more sickening during the day, we had the tent most uncomfortably full.

My barometrical observations, taken simultaneously with those of Calcutta, give the height of Tonglo, 10,078'3 feet; Colonel Waugh's, by trigonometry, 10,079*4 feet,—a remarkable and unusual coincidence. . May 23.—^We spent a few hours of alternate fog and Sunshine on the top of the mountain, vainly hoping for the most modest view; our inability to obtain it was extremely disappointing, as the siunmit commands a superb prospect. The air, which was always foggy, was alternately cooled and heated, as it blew over the trees, or the open space we occupied; sometimes varying 5® and 6® in a quarter of an hour.

Having partially dried the tent in the wind, we com-

menced the descent, which, owing to the late torrents of rain, was most fatiguing and slippery ; it again commenced to drizzle at noon, nor was it till we had descended to 6000 feet that Ave emerged from the region of clouds. By dark we arrived at Simonbong, having descended 5000 feet, at the rate of 1000 feet an hour; and were kindly received by the Lama, who gave us his temple for the accommodation of our party. We were surprised at this, both because the Sikkim authorities had represented the Lamas as very averse to Europeans, and because he might well have hesitated before admitting a promiscuous horde of thirty people into a sacred building, Avhere the little valuables on the altar, &c., were quite at our disposal. A better tribute could not weU have been paid to the honesty of my Lepcha followers. Our host only begged us not to disturb his j)eople, nor to allow the Hindoos of our party to smoke inside.

Simonbong is one of the smallest and poorest Goompas, or temples, in Sikkim; being built of wood only. It consisted of one large room, raised on a stone foundation, with small sliding shutter windows, and roofed with shingles of wood; opposite the door a wooden altar was placed, rudely chequered with black, white and red; to the right and left were shelves, with a few Tibetan books, wrapped in silk; a model of Symbonath temple in Nepal, a praying-cylinder,* and

* It consisted of a leathern cylinder placed upright in a frame; a projecting piece of iron struck a little bell at each revolution, the moYement being caused by an elbowed axle and string. Within such cylinders are deposited written prayers, and whoever pulls the string properly is

TONGLO.

Chap. VII.

some implements for common purposes, bags of juniper, English wine-botUes and glasses, with tufts of Abies Webbiana, rhododendron flowers, and peacock's feathers, besides various trifles, clay ornaments and offerings,

SIMONBOKO TEMPLE.

and little Hindoo idols. On the altar were ranged seven little brass cups, full of water; a large conch shell, carved with the sacred lotus; a brass jug from Lhassa, of beautiful design, and a human thigh-bone, hollow, and perforated through both condyles.*

considered to have repeated bis prayers as often as the bell rings. Bepresen-tations of tbese implements will be found in other parts of these volumes.

* To these are often added a double-headed rattle, or small drum, formed of two crowns of human skulls, cemented back to back; each &C6 is then coTcred with parchment, and encloses some pebbles. Sometimes this instrument is provided with a handle.

Facing the altar was a bench and a chair, and on one side a huge tambourine, with two curved iron drumsticks. The bench was covered with bells, handsomely carved with idols, and censers with juniper-ashes; and on it lay the dorge, or double-headed thunderbolt, which the Lama holds in his hand during service. Of all these articles, the human thigh-bone is by much the

TRUMPET MADE 07 ▲ HUMAN TBIOH-BONE.

most curious; it is very often that of a Lama, and is valuable in proportion to its length.* As, however, the Sikkim Lamas are burned, these relics are generally procured from Tibet, where the corpses are cut in pieces and thrown to the kites, or into the water.

Two boys usually reside in the temple, and their beds were given up to us, which being only rough planks laid on the floor, proved clean in one sense, but contrasted badly with the springy couch of bamboo the Lepcha makes, which renders carrying a mattress or aught but blankets superfluous.

* It is reported at Doijiling, that one of the first Europeans buried at this station, being a tall man, was disinterred by the resurrectionist Bhoteas for his trumpet-bones.

We were awakened at daylight by the discordant orisons of the Lama; these conunenced by the boys beating the great tambourine, then blowing the conch-shells, and finally the trumpets and thigh-bone. Shortly afterwards the Lama entered, clad in scarlet, shorn and barefooted, wearing a small red silk mitre, a loose gown girt round the middle, and an imder-garment of questionable colour, possibly once purple. He walked along, slowly muttering his prayers, to the end of the apartment, whence he took a brass bell and dorge, and, sitting down cross-legged, commenced matins, counting his beads, ringing the bell, and uttering most dismal prayers. After various disposals of the cups, a larger bell was violently rung for some minutes, himself snapping his fingers and uttering most unearthly sounds. Finally, incense was brought, of charcoal with juniper-sprigs ; it was swung about, and concluded the morning service; to our great relief, for the noises were quite intolerable. Fervid as the devotions appeared, to judge by their intonation, I fear the Lama felt more curious about us than was proper under the circumstances; and when I tried to sketch him, his excitement knew no bounds; he fairly turned roimd on the settee, and, continuing his prayers and bell-accompaniment, appeared to be exorcising me, or some spirit within me.

After breakfast the Lama came to visit us, bringing rice, a few vegetables, and a large bamboo-work bowl, thickly varnished with india-rubber, and waterproof, containing half-fermented millet. This mixture, called Murwa, is invariably offered to the traveller, either in the state of fermented grain, or more conunonly in a

bamboo jug, filled up with warm water; when the fluid, sucked through a reed, affords a refreshing drink. He gratefully accepted a few rupees and trifles which we had to spare.

Leaving Simonbong, we descended to the Little Eungeet, where the heat of the valley was very great; 80° at noon, and that of the stream 69°; the latter was an agreeable temperature for the coolies, who plunged, teeming with perspiration, into the water, catching fish with their hands. We reached Dorjiling late in the evening, again drenched with rain; our people imprudently remaining for the night in the valley. Owing probably as much to the great exposure they had lately gone through, as to the sudden transition from a mean temperature of 50° in a bracing wind, to a hot close jungly valley at 75°, no fewer than seven were laid up with fever and ague.

It is always interesting to roam with an aboriginal, and especially a mountain people, through their thinly inhabited valleys, over their grand mountains, and to dwell alone with them in their gloomy and forbidding forests; and no thinking man can do so without learning much, however slender be the means at his command for communion. A more interesting and attractive companion than the Lepcha I never lived with: cheerful, kind, and patient with a master to whom he is attached; rude but not savage, ignorant and yet intelligent; with the simple resource of a plain knife he makes his house and furnishes yours, with a speed, alacrity, and ingenuity that wile away that well-known long hour when the weary pilgrim frets for his couch.

TONQLO.

Chap. VII.

In all my dealings with these people, they proved scrupulously honest. Except for drunkenness and carelessness, I never had to complain of any of the merry troop; some of whom, bareheaded and barelegged, possessing little or nothing save a cotton garment and a long knife, followed me for many months, from the scorching plains to the everlasting snows. Ever foremost in the forest or on the bleak mountain, and ever ready to help, to carry, to encamp, collect, or cook, they cheer on the traveller by their unostentatious zeal in his service, and are spurs to liis progress.

TIBETAN AMULET.

CHAPTER Vin.

Difficulty in procuring leave to enter Sikkim—Obtain permiBBion to travel in East Nepal—Arrangements—Ooolies—StoreB—Servants—^Personal equipment—Mode of travelling—Leave Doijiling—Goong ridge— Behaviour of Bhotan ooolies—Nepal frontier—^Myong valley—^Ilam— Sikkim massacre—Cultivation—Nettles—Camp at Nanki on Tonglo —^Bhotan coolies run away—^Vlev of Chumulari—Nepal peaks— Sakkiazung—Hombills—^Boad to WaUanchoon—Scarcity of water— Singular view of mountain-valleys—^Encampment—^My tent and its furniture—Evening occupations—Dunkotah—Cross ridge of Sakkiazung—^Yews—Silver-firs—View of Tambur valley—^Pemmi river— Pebbly terraces—^Holy springs—^Enormous trees—Luculia gratissima —Elhawa river—Arrive at Tambur—Shingle and gravel terraces— Natives, indolenoe of—Canoe ferry—^Votive offerings—^Bad road— Temperature, &c.—Chingtam village, view from—^Mywa river and Ghiola—^House—^Boulders—Chain-bridge—^Meepo, arrival of—Fevers.

Owing to the unsatisfactory nature of our relations with the Sikkim authorities, to which I have elsewhere alluded, my endeavours to procure leave to penetrate further beyond the Dorjiling territory than Tonglo, were attended with some trouble and delay.

In the autumn of 1848, the Governor-General communicated with the Bajah, desiring him to grant me honourable and safe escort through his dominions; but this was at once met by a decided refusal, apparently admitting of no compromise. Pending further nego-ciations, which Dr. Campbell felt sure would terminate

satisfactorily, though perhaps too late for that season, he applied to the Nepal Bajah for permission for me to visit the Tibetan passes, west of Kinehinjunga; proposing in the meanwhile to arrange for my return through Sikkim. Through the kindness of Colonel Thoresby, the Resident at that Court, and the influence of Jung Bahadur, this request was promptly acceded to, and a guard of six Nepalese soldiers and two officers was sent to Dorjiling to conduct me to any part of the eastern districts of Nepal which I might select. I decided upon following up the Tambur, a branch of the Aran river, and exploring the two easternmost of the Nepalese passes into Tibet (Wallanchoon and .Kanglachem), which would bring me as near to the central mass and loftiest part of the eastern flank of Kinehinjunga as possible.

For this expedition (which occupied three months), all the arrangements were undertaken for me by Dr. Campbell, who afforded me every facility which from his position he could command, besides personally superintending the equipment and provisioning of my party. Taking loaded animals of any kind was not expedient: the whole journey was to be performed on foot, and everything carried on men's backs. As we were to march through wholly unexplored countries, -where food was only procurable at uncertain intervals, it was necessary to engage a large body of porters, some of whom should carry bags of rice for the coolies and for themselves too. The difficulty of selecting these carriers, of whom thirty were required, was very great. The Lepchas, the best and most tractable, and over

whom Dr. Campbell had the most direct influence, disliked employment out of Sikkim, especially in so warlike a country as Nepal: and they were besides thought unfit for the snowy regions. The Nepalese, of whom there were many residing as British subjects in Dorjiling, were mostly run-aways from their own country, and afraid of being claimed, should they return to it, by the lords of the soil. To employ Limboos, Moormis, Hindoos, or other natives of low eleyations, was out of the question; and no course appeared advisable but to engage some of the Bhotan run-aways domiciled in Dorjiling, who are accustomed to travel at all elevations, and fear nothing but a return to the country which they have abandoned as slaves, or as culprits: they are immensely powerful, and though intractable to the last degree, will generally work and behave well for money. The choice, as will hereafter be seen, was unfortunate, though at the time unanimously approved.

My party mustered fifty-six persons, including myself, and^one personal servant, a Portuguese half-caste, who imdertook all ofiices, and spared me the usual train of Hindoo and Mahometan servants. My tent and equipments (for which I was indebted to Mr. Hodgson), instruments, bed, clothes, books and papers, required a man for each. Seven more carried my papers for drying plants, and other scientific stores. The Nepalese guard had two coolies of their own. My interpreter, the coolie Sirdar (or headman), and my chief plant collector (a Lepcha), had a man each. Mr. Hodgson's bird and animal shooter, collector, and

stuffer, for their ammunition and indispensables, had four more; there were besides, three Lepcha lads to climb trees and change the plant-papers, who had long been in my service in that capacity; and the party was completed by fourteen Bhotan coolies laden with food, consisting chiefly of rice, with ghee, oil, capsicums, salt and flour.

I carried a small barometer, a large knife and digger for plants, note-book, telescope, compass, and other instruments; whilst two or three Lepcha lads accom-» panied me with a botanising box, thermometers, sextant and artificial horizon, measuring-tape, azimuth compass and stand, geological hammer, bottles and boxes for insects, sketch-book, &c., arranged in compartments of strong canvas bags. The Nepal oflScer always kept near me with one of his men, rendering innumerable little services: the other sepoys were distributed amongst the remainder of the party; while one went ahead to prepare the camping-ground, and one brought up the rear.

The course generally pursued by Himalajran travellers is to march early in the morning, and arrive at the camping-ground before or by noon, breakfasting before starting or en route. I never followed this plan, because it sacrificed the mornings, which were profitably spent in collecting; whereas, if I set off early, I was generally too tired with the day's march to employ in any active pursuit the rest of the daylight, which in November only lasted till 6 p.m. The men breakfasted early in the morning, I somewhat later, and all had started by 10 a.m., arriving between 4 and 6 p.m. at the

next camping-ground. My tent was formed of blankets, spread over cross pieces of wood and a ridge-pole, enclosing an area of 6 to 8 feet by 4 to 6 feet. The bedstead, table, and chair were always made by my Lepchas, in the manner described in the Tonglo excursion. The evenings I employed in writing up my notes and journals, plotting maps, and ticketing the plants collected during the day.

I left Dorjiling on the 27th October, accompanied by Dr. Campbell, who saw me fairly oflF, the coolies having preceded me. Our direct route would have been over Tonglo, but the threats of the Sikkim authorities rendered it advisable to make for Nepal at once; we therefore kept west along the Goong ridge, a western prolongation of Sinchul.

On overtaking the coolies, I proceeded for six or seven miles along a zig-zag road, at about 7,500 feet elevation, through dense forests, and halted at a little hut within sight of Dorjiling. Bain and mist came on at nightfall, and though several parties of my servants arrived, none of the Bhotan coolies made their appearance, and I spent the night without food or bed, the weather being too foggy and dark to send back to meet them. They joined me late on the following day, complaining unreasonably of their loads, and without their Sirdar, who, after starting his crew, had returned to take leave of his wife and family. On the following day he appeared, and after due admonishment we started, but four miles farther on were again obliged to halt for the coolies, who were equally deaf to threats

and entreaties. As they did not come up till dusk, we

i2

were obliged to encamp at the common source of the Balasun, which flows to the plains, and the Little Rungeet, whose course is northwards.

The contrast between the conduct of the Bhotan men and that of the Lepchas and Nepalese was so marked, that I seriously debated the propriety of sending the former back to Dorjiling, but yielded to the remonstrances of their Sirdar and the Nepal guard, who represented the great difficulty I should have in replacing them, and above all, the loss of time, at this season a matter of great importance. I accordingly started again the following morning, and still keeping in a westerly direction, descended into the Myong valley in Nepal, through which flows a river of the same name, a tributary of the Tambur. This valley is remarkably fine: it runs south-west from Tonglo, and its open character and general fertility contrast strongly with the bareness of the lower mountain spurs which flank it, and with the dense, gloomy, steep, and forest-clad gorges of Sikkim. At its lower end, about twenty miles from the frontier, is the military fort of Dam, a celebrated stockaded post of the Ghorkas: its position is marked by a conspicuous conical lull. The inhabitants are chiefly Brahmins, but there are also some Moormis, and a few Lepchas who escaped from Sikkim during the general massacre in 1825. Among these is a man who had formerly much influence in Sikkim; he still retains his title of Kazee,* and has had large lands assigned to him by the Nepalese Government: he sent

* This Mahometan title, by which the officers of state are known in Sikkim, is there generally pronounced K^ee.

me the usual present of a kid, fowls, and eggs, and begged me to express to Dr. CampbeU his desire to settle at Dorjiling.

The scenery of this valley is the most beautiful I know of in the lower Himalaya, and the Cheer Fine (P. longifolia) is abundant, cresting the hills, which are loosely clothed with clumps of oaks and other trees, bamboos, and common English bracken. The spurs separate little ravines luxuriantly clothed with tropical vegetation, through which flow pebbly streams of transparent water. The villages, which are merely scattered collections of huts, are surrounded with fields of rice, buckwheat, and Indian com, which latter the natives were now storing in little granaries, mounted on four posts; men, women, and children being all equally busy. The quantity of gigantic nettles {Urtica heterophylla) on the skirts of the maize fields is quite wonderful: their long white stings look most formidable, but though they sting virulently, the pain only lasts half an hour or so. These, however, with leeches, mosquitos, peepsas, and ticks, sometimes keep the traveller in a constant state of irritation.

However civilised the Hindoo may be in comparison with the Lepcha, he presents a far less attractive picture; he comes to your camping-ground, sits down, and stares, but offers no assistance; if he brings a present he expects a return on the spot, and goes on begging till satisfied. I was amused by the cool way in which my Ghorka guard treated the village lads, when they wanted help, taking them by the shoulder, pulling out their knives for them, placing them in their

hands, and setting them to cut down a tree, or to chop firewood, which they seldom refused to do, when a little such douce violence was applied.

My object being to reach the Tambur, north of the great east and west mountain ridge of Sakkiazimg, without crossing the innumerable feeders of the Myong and their dividing spurs, I ascended the north flank of the valley to a long spur from Tonglo, intending to follow winding ridges of that mountain to the sources of the Pemmi at the Phulloot mountains, and thence descend.

On the 3rd November, I encamped on the flank of Tonglo (called Nanki in Nepal), about 700 feet below the western smnmit, which is rocky, and connected by a long flat ridge with that which I had visited in the previous May. The Bhotan coolies behaved worse than ever; their conduct being in all respects typical of the turbulent, mulish race to which they belong. They had been plundering my provisions as they came along, and neither their Sirdar nor the Ghorka soldiers had the smallest authority over them. I had hired some Ghorka coolies to assist and eventually to replace them, and had made up my mind to send back the worst from the more populous banks of the Tambur, when I was relieved by their making oflF of their own accord. The dilemma was however awkward, as it was impossible to procure men on the top of a mountain 10,000 feet high. No course remained but to send to Dorjiling for others, or to return to the Myong valley, and take a more circuitous route over the west end of Sakkiazung, which led through villages from which I

could procure coolies day by day. I preferred the latter plan, and sent one of the soldiers to the nearest village for assistance to bring the loads down, halting a day for that purpose.

From the summit of Tonglo I enjoyed the view I had so long desired of the Snowy Himalaya; Sikkim being on the right, Nepal on the left, and the plains of India to the southward; and I procured a set of compass bearings, of the greatest use in mapping the country. In the early morning the transparency of the atmosphere rendered this view one of astonishing grandeur. Einchinjunga bore nearly due north, a dazzling mass of snowy peaks, intersected by blue glaciers, which gleamed in the slanting rays of the rising sun, like aquamaiines set in frosted silver. From this the sweep of snowed mountains to the eastward was almost continuous as far as Chola, following a curve of 150 miles, and enclosing the whole of the northern part of Sikkim, which appeared a billowy mass of forest-clad mountains. On the north-east horizon rose Donkia (23,176 feet), and Chumulari (23,929). Though both were much more distant than the snowy ranges, being respectively eighty and ninety miles off, they raised their gigantic heads above them, seeming what they really are, by far the loftiest peaks next to Kinchin-junga; and the perspective of snow is so deceptive, that though from forty to sixty miles beyond, they appeared as though in the same line with the ridges they overtopped. Of these mountains, Chumulari presents many attractions to the geographer, from its long disputed position, its sacred character, and the interest

attached to it since Turner's mission to Tibet in 1783. It was seen and recognised by Dr. Campbell, and measured by Colonel Waugh, from Sinchul, and also from Tonglo, and was a conspicuous object in my subsequent journey to Tibet. Beyond Jimnoo, one of the western peaks of Kinchinjunga, there was no continuous snowy chain; the Himalaya seemed suddenly to decline into black and rugged peaks, till in the far north-west it rose again in a white mountain mass of fitupendous elevation at eighty miles distance, called, by my Nepal people, ** Tsimgau." From the bearings I took of it from several positions, this is probably on the west flank of the Arun valley and river, which latter, in its course from Tibet to the plains of India^ receives the waters from the west flank of Kinchinjunga, and from the east flank of the mountain in question. It is perhaps one which has been seen and measured from the Tirhoot district by some of Colonel Waugh*s party, and which has been reported as being upwards of 28,000 feet in elevation; and it is the only mountain of the first class in magnitude between Gosainthan (north-east of Katmandoo) and Kinchinjunga.

To the west, the black ridge of Sakkiazung, bristling with silver-firs, cut off the view of Nepal; but southwest, the Myong valley could be traced to its junction with the Tambur about thirty miles off: beyond which to the south-west low hills rose on the distant horizon, seventy or eighty miles off; and of these the most conspicuous were the Mahavarati, which skirt the Nepal Terai. South and south-east, Sinchul and the Goong range intercepted the view of the plains of

India, of which I had a distant peep to the southwest only.

A few of the Bhotan coolies having returned, I le^. Tonglo on the 6th, and proceeded to the Mai, a feeder of the Myong. The descent was as abrupt as that of the east face, but through less dense forest; the Sikkim side being much the dampest. I encamped at dark near a small village (Jummanoo), at 4,360 feet, having descended 5000 feet in five hours. Hence I marched eastward to the village of Sakkiazung, which I reached on the third day.

Though rich and fertile, the country is scantily populated, and I had much diflSculty in procuring coolies: I therefore sent back to Dorjiling all but indispensables, and on the 9th of November started up the ridge in a northerly direction, taking the road from Ham to Wallanchoon. The ascent was gradual, through a fine forest, full of hom-biUs {Buceros), a bird resembling the Toucan. Water is very scarce along the ridge; we walked fcdly eight miles without finding any, and were at length obliged to encamp at 8,350 feet by the only spring that we should be able to reach. With respect to drought, this ridge differs materially from those of Sikkim, where water abounds at all elevations; and the cause is obviously its position to the westward of the great ridge of Singalelah (including Tonglo) by which the S.W. currents are drained of their moisture. Here again, the east flank was much the dampest and most luxuriantly wooded.

While my men were forming their encampment, I ascended a rocky simunit, from which I obtained a

i3

superb view to the westward. Immediately beneath a fearfully sudden descent, ran the Daomy Biver, bounded on the opposite side by another parallel ridge of Sakkiazung, enclosing, with that on which I stood, a gulf from 6000 to 7000 feet deep, of wooded ridges, which, as it were, radiated outwards in rocky spurs to. the fir-clad peaks around. To the south-west, in the extreme distance, were the plains of India, upwards of 100 nules off, with the Cosi meandering through them like a silver thread.

The firmament appeared of a pale steel blue, and a broad low arch spanned the horizon, bounded by a line of little fleecy clouds; below this the sky was of a golden yellow, while in successively deeper strata, many belts or ribbons of vapour appeared to press upon the plains, the lowest of which was of a dark leaden hue, the upper more purple, and vanishing into the pale yellow above. Gradually the golden lines grew dim, and the blues and purples gained depth of colour; till the sun set behind the dark-blue peaked mountains in a flood of crimson and purple, sending broad beams of gray shade and purple light up to the zenith, and aU around. As evening advanced, mists rapidly formed below me in little isolated clouds, which coalesced and spread out like a heaving sea, leaving nothing above their surface but the ridges and spurs of the adjacent mountains. These rose like capes, promontories, and islands, of the darkest leaden hue, bristling with pines, and advancing boldly into the snowy ocean, or starting from its bed in the strongest relief. As darkness came on, and the stars arose, a

light fog gathered round xne, and I quitted with reluctance one of the most impressiye and magic scenes I had ever beheld.

Returning to my tent, I was interested in observing how well my followers accommodated themselves to their narrow circumstances. Their fires gleamed everywhere amongst the trees, and the people presented an interesting picture of native, savage, and half-civilised life. I wandered amongst them in the, darkness, and watched their operations; some were cooking, with their rude bronzed faces lighted ug by the ruddy glow, as they peered into the pot, stirring the boiling rice with one hand, while with the other they held back their long tangled hair. Others were bringing water from the spring below, some gathering sprigs of fragrant worm-wood and other shrubs to form couches—some lopping branches of larger trees to screen them from nocturnal radiation; their only protection from the dew being such branches stuck in the ground, and slanting over their recumbent forms. The Bhotanese were rude and boisterous in their pursuits, constantly complaining to the Sirdars, and wrangling over their meals. The Ghorkas were sprightly, combing their raven hair, telling interminably long stories, or singiag Hindoo songs through their noses in chorus; and being neater and better dressed, and having a servant to cook their food, they seemed quite the gentlemen of the party. Still the Lepcha was the most attractive, the least restrained, and the most natural in all his actions, the simplest in his wants and appliances, with a bamboo as his water-jug.

A,*

an earthen pot as his kettle, and all 'manner of herbs collected during the day*s march to flavour his food.

My tent was made of a blanket thrown overlhe limb of a tree; to this others were attached, and the whole was supported on a frame like a house. One half was occupied by my bedstead, beneath which was stowed my box of clothes, while my books and writing materials were placed under the table. The barometer hung in the most out-of-the-way comer, and my other instruments all around. A small candle was burning in a glass shade, to keep the light from draught and insects, and I had the comfort of seeing the knife, fork, and spoon laid on a white napkin, as I entered my snug little house, and flung myseK on the elastic couch to ruminate on the proceedings of the day, and speculate on those of the morrow, while waiting for my meal, which usually consisted of stewed meat and rice, with biscuits and tea. My thermometers (wet and dry bulb, and minimum) hung under a temporary canopy made of thickly plaited bamboo leaves close to the tent, and the cooking was performed by my servant under a tree.

After dinner my occupations were to ticket and put away the plants collected during the day, write my journal, plot maps, and take observations till 10 p.m. As soon as I was in bed, one of the Nepal soldiers was accustomed to enter, spread his blanket on the ground, and sleep there as my guard. In the morning the collectors were set to change the plant-papers, while I explored the neighbourhood, and having taken observations and breakfasted, we were ready to start at 10 A.M.

FoUowiiig the ^une ridge, after a few miles of ascent oyer xnuch broken gneiss rock, the Ghorkas led me aside to the top of a knoll, 9,300 feet high, covered with stunted bushes, and commanding a splendid view to the west, of the broad, low, well cultiyated valley of the Tambur, and the extensive town of Dunkotah on its banks, about twenty-five miles off; the capital of this part of Nepal, and famous for its manufactory of paper from the bark of the Daphne. Here too I gained a fine view of the plains of India, including the course of the Cosi river, which, receiving the Anm and Tambur, debouches into the Ganges opposite Colgong.

A little further on I crossed the main ridge of Sakkiazung, a chain stretching for miles to the westward from Phulloot on Singalelah, and forming the most elevated and conspicuous transverse range in this part of Nepal. Silver firs {Abies Webbiana) are found on all the summits; but to my regret none occurred in our path, which led just below their limit (10,000 feet): there were, however, a few yews, exactly like the English. The view that opened on cresting this range was again magnificent, of Kinchinjunga, the western snows of Nepal, and the valley of the Tambur, winding amongst wooded and cultivated hills to a long line of black-peaked, rugged mountains, sparingly snowed, which intervene between Kinchinjunga and the great Nepal mountain before mentioned. For fully forty miles to the northward there were no lofty forest-clad mountains: villages appeared everywhere, with crops of golden mustard and purple buckwheat in full flower ; yellow rice and maize, green hemp, pulse, radishes.

barley, and brown millet. Here and there deep groves of oranges, the broad-leafed banana, and sugar-cane, skirted the bottoms of the valleys, through which the streams rushed in white foam over their rocky beds. Kinchinjunga was the most prominent object to the north-east, with its sister peaks of Kubra (24,005 feet), and Junnoo (25,312 feet). All these presented bare cliffs for several thousand feet below their summits, composed of white rock with a faint pink tint:—on the other hand the cliffs of the lofty Nepal mountain in the far west were all black. From the simimit two routes to the Tambur presented themselves; one, the main road, led west and south along the ridge, and then turned north, descending to the river; the other was shorter, leading down to the Pemmi river, and thence along its banks, west to the Tambur. I chose the latter.

The descent was very abrupt to the bed of the Pemmi, 2000 feet; and the path was infamously bad, generally narrow, winding, and rocky, leading among tangled 3hrubs and large boulders, brambles, nettles, and thorny bushes, often in the bed of the torrent, or crossing spurs covered with forest. A little cultivation was occasionally met with on the narrow flat pebbly terraces which fringed the stream, usually of rice, and sometimes of the smaU-leaved variety of hemp grown as a narcotic.

In one little rocky dell the water gushed through a hole in a soft stratum in the gneiss ; a trifling circumstance which was not lost upon the crafty Brahmins, who had cut a series of regular holes for the water, ornamented the rocks with red paint, and a row of

little iron tridents of Siva, and dedicated the whole to Mahadeo.

In some spots the vegetation was exceedingly fine, and several large trees occurred: I measured a Toon (Cedrela) thirty feet in girth at five feet above the ground. The skirts of the forest were adorned with numerous jungle flowers, rice crops, wild cherry-trees covered with scarlet blossoms, and trees of the purple and lilac Bauhinia; while Thunbergia, ConvolvulvSf and other climbers, hung in graceful festoons from the boughs, and on the dry micaceous rocks the Jjucvlia gratissima, one of. our choice hot-house ornaments, grew in profusion, its gorgeous heads of blossoms scenting the air.

At the junction of the Pemmi and Khawa rivers, elevated 2250 feet, appeared many trees and plants of the Terai and plains, as pomegranate, peepul, and sal; with extensive fields of cotton, indigo, and irrigated rice.

We followed the north bank of the Khawa, westerly, through a gorge between high cliflTs, and reached the east bank of the Tambur, on the 13th of November, at its junction with the Khawa. It formed a grand stream, larger than the Teesta, of a pale, sea-green, muddy colour, and flowed rapidly with a strong ripple, but no foam; it rises six feet iu the rains, but ice never descends nearly so low; its breadth was sixty to eighty yards, and that of the foaming Khawa twelve to fifteen yards. I camped at the fork of the rivers, on a fine terrace fifty feet above the water, about seventy yards long, and one hundred broad, quite flat-topped, and composed of shingle, gravel, &c., with enormous

water-worn boulders; it was girt by another broken terrace, twelve feet or so above the water, and covered with long grass and bushes.

The main road from Ilam to Wallanchoon, which I quitted on Sakkiazung, descends steeply on the opposite bank of the river: there is considerable traffic along it; and I was visited by numbers of natives, all Hindoos, who coolly squatted before my tent door, and stared with their large black, vacant, lustrous eyes; they appeared singularly indolent, and great beggars.

The land seems highly favoured by nature, and the population, though so scattered, is, in reality, considerable, the varied elevation giving a large surface ; but the natives care for no more than will satisfy their immediate wants. The river swarms with fish, but they are too lazy to catch them, and they have seldom anything better to give or sell than sticks of sugarcane, which when peeled form a refreshing morsel in these scorching marches. They have few and poor oranges, citrons, and lemons, very bad plantains, and but little else ;—eggs, fowls, and milk are all scarce. Homed cattle are of course never killed by Hindoos, and it was but seldom that I could replenish my larder with a kid. Potatos are unknown, but my Sepoys often brought me large coarse radishes and legumes.

From the junction of the rivers the road led up the Tambur to Mywa Guola; about sixteen miles by the river, but fully thirty-five as we wound, ascended, and descended, during three days* marches. We were ferried across the stream in a canoe formed of a hollow .trunk of Toon thirty feet long, and much ruder than

that of the New Zealander. I watched my party crossing by boat-loads of fifteen each; the Bhotan men hung little scraps of rags on the bushes before embarking,—^the votive oflferings of a Boodhist throughout central Asia;—the Lepcha, less civilised, scooped up a little water in the palm of his hand, and scattered it about, invoking the river god of his simple creed.

We always encamped upon gravelly terraces a few feet above the river; its banks were very steep for 600 feet above the stream, though the mountains which flanked it did not exceed 4000 to 6000 feet: this is a constant phenomenon in the Himalaya, and the paths, when within a few hundred feet of the rivers, are in consequence excessively steep and difficult; it would have been impossible to have taken ponies along that we followed, which was often not a foot broad, nmning along very steep cliffs, at a dizzy height above the river, and engineered with much ingenuity: often the bank was abandoned altogether, and we ascended several thousand feet to descend again. Owing to the steepness of these banks, and the reflected heat, the valley, even at this season, was excessively hot and close during the day, even when the temperature was below 70®, and tempered by a brisk breeze which rushes upwards from sunrise to sunset. The sun's rays at this season do not, in many places, reach the bottom of these vaUeys until 10 a.m., and are withdrawn by 3 p.m. ; and the radiation to a clear sky is so powerful that dew frequently forms in the shade, throughout the day, and it is common at 10 a.m. to find the thermometer sink from 70® in a spot dried by the sun, to 40° in the shade

close by, where the sun has not yet penetrated. Snow never falls.

In one place the road ascended for 2000 feet above the river, to the village of Chingtam, situated on a lofty spur of the west bank, whence I obtained a grand view of the upper course of the river, flowing in a tremendous chasm, flanked by well-cultivated hills, and emerging fifteen miles to the northward, from black mountains of savage grandeur, whose precipitous faces were streaked with snow, and the tops of the lower ones crowned with the tabular-branched silver-fir, contrasting strongly with the tropical luxuriance around. Chingtam is an extensive village, covering an area of two miles, and surrounded with abundant cultivation; the houses, which are built in clusters, are of wood, or wattle and mud, with grass thatch. The villagers, though an indolent, staring race, are quiet and respectable; the men are handsome, the women, though less so, often good-looking. They have fine cattle, and excellent crops.

Immediately above Chingtam, the Tambur is joined by a large affluent from the west, the Mywa, which is here crossed by an excellent iron bridge, formed of loops hanging from two chains, along which is laid a plank of sal timber. Passing through the village, we camped on a broad terrace, from sixty to seventy feet above the junction of the rivers.

Mywa Guola (or bazaar) is a large village frequented by Nepalese and Tibetans, who bring salt, wool, gold, piusk, and blankets, to exchange for rice, coral, and other commodities; and a custom-house officer is

stationed there, with a few soldiers. The houses are of wood, and well built: the public ones are large^ with verandahs, and galleries of carved wood; the workmanship is of Chinese character, and inferior to that of Katmandoo; but in the same style, and unlike anything I had previously seen.

The river-terrace is similar to that at the junction of the Tambur and Ehawa, but very extensive: the stones it contained were of all sizes, from that of a nut to huge boulders upwards of fifteen feet long, of which many strewed the surface, while others were in the bed of the river.

I was here overtaken by a messenger with letters from Dr. Campbell, announcing that the Sikkim Sajah had disavowed the refusal to the Govemor-General*s letter, and had authorised me to return through any part of Sikkim I thought proper. The bearer was a Lepcha attached to the court: his dress was that of a superior person, being a scarlet jacket over a white cotton dress, the breadth of the blue stripes of which generally denotes wealth; he was accompanied by a sort of attach^, who wore a magnificent pearl and gold ear-ring, and carried his master's bow, as well as a basket on his back; while an attendant coolie bore their utensils and food, Meepo, or Teshoo (in Tibetan, Mr.) Meepo, as he was usually called, soon attached himself to me, and proved an active, useful, and intelligent companion, guide, and often collector, during many months afterwards.

The vegetation round Mywa Guola is thoroughly tropical: the banyan is planted, and thrives tolerably.

EAST NEPAL.

Chap. VIII.

the heat being great during the day. Like the whole of the Tambur valley below 4000 feet, and especially on these flats, the climate is very malarious before and after the rains; and I was repeatedly applied to by natives suffering under attacks of fever.

As it was doubtful if we should be able to procure food further on, I laid in a full stock here, and distributed blankets, &c., suiB&cient for temporary use for all the people, dividing them into groups or messes.

TIHETAN CHARM-BOX.

CHAPTER IX.

Leaye Mywa—Snspension bridge—Landalips—^Vegetation—Bees' nests— GUdal phenomena—Tibetans, clothing, ornaments, amulets, salutation, children, dogs—Last Limboo village, Taptiatok—Beautiful soeneiy—Tibet Tillage of Lelyp— Edgeworthia —Crab-apple—Cha-melecm and porcupine—Praying machine— Abiet Brunonicma — European plants—Ghrand scenery—^Arrive at Wallanchoon—Scenery around—^Trees—^Tibet houses—Manis and Mendongs—Tibet household—Food—^Tea-floup—Hospitality—Taks and Zobo, uses and habits of—Bhoteas—Tak-hair tents—Guobah of Walloong—Jhatamansi— Obstacles to proceeding—Climate and weather—Proceed—Rhododendrons, &0.—^Lichens— Poa annua and Shepherd's purse—Tibet camp —^Tuquoroma—Scenery of pass—Glaciers and snow—Summit—Plants, woolly, &o.

On the 18th November, I left Mywa Guola, and continued up the river to the village of Wallanchoon or Walloong, which was reached in six marches. The snowy peak of Junnoo forms a magnificent feature from this point, seen up the narrow gorge of the river, bearing N.N.E. about thirty miles. I crossed the Mewa, an affluent from the north, by another excellent suspension bridge. In these bridges, the principal chains are clamped to rocks on either shore, and the suspended loops occur at intervals of eight to ten feet; the single sal-plank laid on these loops swings terrifically, and the handrails not being four feet high, the sense of insecurity is very great.

The Wallanchoon path follows the west bank, but the bridge above having been carried away, we crossed by a plank, and proceeded along very steep banks of decomposed schist, affording an insecure footing, especially where great landslips had occurred. The lateral streams (of a muddy opal green) had cut beds 200 feet deep in the soft earth, and were very troublesome to cross, from the crumbling cliffs on either side, and their broad swampy channels.

Five or six miles above Mywa, the valley contracts much, and the Tambur becomes a turbulent river, shooting along its course with immense velocity, torn into foam as it lashes the spurs of rock that flank it, and the enormous boulders with which its bed is strewn. From this elevation to 9000 feet, its sinuous track extends about thirty miles, which gives a fall of 200 feet to the mile, quadruple of what it is for the lower part of its course. So long as its bed is below 5000 feet, a tropical vegetation prevails, but the steep mountain sides above are either bare and grassy, or cliffs with scattered shrubs and trees, their smnmits bristling with pines: those faces exposed to the south and east are invariably the driest and most grassy; while the opposite are well wooded.

In the contracted parts of the valley, the mountains often dip to the river-bed in precipices, under the ledges of which wild bees build pendulous nests, looking like huge bats suspended by their wings ; they are two or three feet long, and as broad at the top, whence they taper downwards: the honey is much sought for, except in spring, when it is said to be poisoned by

Bhododendron flowers, just as that, eaten by the soldiers in the retreat of the Ten Thousand, was by the flowers of the R. ponticvm.

Above these gorges are enormous accumulations of rocks, especially at the confluence of lateral valleys, where they rest upon little flats, like the river-terraces of Mywa: some of these boulders were thirty or forty yards across, and split as if they had fallen from a height; the path passing between the fragments; they are probably due to ancient glacial action, especially when laden with such enormous blocks as are probably ice-transported.

A change in the population accompanies that in the natural features of the country, Tibetans replacing the Nepalese who inhabit the lower region. I daily passed parties of ten or a dozen Tibetans, on their way to Mywa Guola, laden with salt; several families of these wild, black, and uncouth-looking people generally travelling together. The men were middle-sized or small, very square-built and muscular; they had no beard, moustache, or whiskers, the few hairs on their faces being carefully removed with tweezers. They were dressed in loose blanket robes, girt about the waist with a leather belt, in which they placed their iron or brass pipes, and from which they suspended their long knives, chop-sticks, tobacco-pouch, tweezers, tinder-box, &c. The robe, boots, and cap were gray, or striped with bright colours, and they wore skull-caps, and the hair plaited into a pig-tail.

The women were dressed in long flannel petticoats and spencer, over which was thrown a sleeveless, short,

striped cloak, drawn round the waist by a girdle of broad brass or silver links, to which hung their knives, scissors, needle-cases, &c., and with which they often strapped their children to their backs; the hair was plaited in two tails, and the neck loaded with coral and glass beads, and great hunps of amber, glass, and agate. Both sexes wore silver rings and ear-rings, set with turquoises, and square amulets upon their necks and arms, which were boxes of gold or silver, containing small idols, or the nail-parings, teeth, or other reliques of some sainted Lama, accompanied with musk, written prayers, and charms. All were good-humoured and amiable-looking people, very square and Mongolian in countenance, with broad mouths, high cheek-bones, narrow, upturned eyes, broad, flat noses, and low foreheads. White is their natural colour, and rosy cheeks are common amongst the younger women and children, but all are begrimed with filth and smoke; added to which, they become so weather-worn from exposure to the most rigorous climate in the world, that their natural hues are rarely to be recognised. Their customary mode of saluting one another is to loll out the tongue, grin, nod, and scratch their ear; but this method entails so much ridicule in the low countries, that they do not practise it to Nepalese or strangers; most of them when meeting me, raised their hands to their eyes, threw themselves on the ground, and kotowed most decorously, bumping their foreheads three times on the ground; even the women did this on several occasions. On rising, they begged for a bucksheesh, which I gave in tobacco or snuff, of