Jacquemont, in the valuable journal of his tour in India, which has been published by the French Government, has observed that the passage of the ridge between Chegaon and Miru may be considered as producing a marked change in the vegetation. This change, as we have seen during our journey up the Sutlej, had long been going on, though very gradually and almost insensibly. Several circumstances combine to make the transition appear at this point more sudden than a careful calculation of the number of new species will prove to be the case. It is the first wooded ridge on the north side of the Sutlej over which the road passes, and it rises higher than any other part of the route east of Nagkanda. A considerable effect is also produced by several new arboreous or shrubby species making their appearance, as well as by the fact that the new forms, which day by day have insensibly been increasing in number, have at last begun to form a prominent feature in the country.

I find among my notes a list of all the species of plants which came under my observation during the walk from Chegaon to Miru. Their number is rather above 150 species, of which number about 120 are common Simla plants. Of the remaining thirty, eleven were quite new to me, ten had occurred only the day before, and nine had been common for some days past. These numbers convey a very different idea of the amount of change from that produced at the time, but the latter must be admitted to be very fallacious, the eye of the botanist being so naturally attracted by novelty, to the utter disregard of what is common, that it is difficult to preserve the degree of attention requisite to observe properly.

Pinus Gerardiana produces a very large cone, containing, like the stone-pine of Europe, eatable nuts, of an elongated oblong form, which, when roasted like chesnuts, are agreeable to the taste, though with a little flavour of turpentine. This tree has been repeatedly tried in the rainy districts of the Himalaya, but will not succeed, a dry climate being essential to it. Besides Gerard's pine, a new species of oak was the most conspicuous tree, forming a thick dry wood on western exposures. This oak, the only species of the genus which grows in the interior of Kunawar, is the Quercus Ilex. The specimens which I collected quite agree with the European plant, and belong to that form of the evergreen oak, which has been called Q. Ballota. The same tree is common in some parts of Affghanistan, where it is called Balút. A small graceful ash was also common, and species of Stellaria, Lychnis, Dianthus, Herniaria, Cruciferæ, Senecio, and Valeriana, which, with several Chenopodiaceæ and Artemisiæ, were the new species observed.

On the morning of the 16th of August, we proceeded to Rogi, eight and a half miles. On leaving Miru the road at first ascended gradually through a pretty wood of deodar and Gerard's pine. The common pear-tree of the Himalaya, and many of the more ordinary Simla shrubs, species of Desmodium, Indigofera, Spiræa, Buddleia, and Plectranthus, were common under the shade of the pine-forest. As the elevation increased, the trees gradually diminished in number, and the road continued to rise along the side of a rocky hill, with only a few scattered deodars. A very pretty reach of the Sutlej now came into sight. The river was broader than usual, and seemed to flow with a gentle stream along an even bed, without interruption from rocks. Opposite the junction of the Miru tributary, which was in sight at the end of the reach, the Sutlej was particularly wide, and its channel was divided into several branches, which enclosed a number of gravelly islands, immediately beyond which the stream again contracted in width, and resumed its usual rocky character.

From the top of the steep ascent, which must have exceeded 9000 feet in elevation, the road continued along the side of the hill, without much change of level. The slopes were nearly bare, a few trees of the deodar and Gerard's pine only occurring occasionally. The latter tree was more common, and larger than the day before. It is a compact small tree, with much-twisted ascending branches, and a mottled grey bark, quite smooth from the decortication of the outer layers. It bore abundance of large pendulous cones, the size of a small pine-apple, still quite green.

A little more than two miles from Miru, the road descended to pass a stream, which was crossed in two branches. Immediately afterwards another long ascent commenced, at first steep and bare, with a western exposure, then more gradual through an open wood of deodar and Pinus excelsa. The highest elevation attained was almost 11,000 feet, and close to the summit a most superb view was seen to the south. The valley of the Sutlej was not in sight, but the whole course of the Baspa, except its junction with the Sutlej, and a great extent of fine snowy range beyond, were beautifully seen. The Burang or Borendo pass, elevated 16,000 feet, which leads from the Baspa valley to the upper part of the Pabar or Tons river, a branch of the Jumna, was very conspicuous, with many large patches of grey dirty-looking snow on the hills near it, but its summit seemingly bare. At the highest elevation attained the face of the hill was a mass of precipitous rocks. A fine peak, which had long been visible across the Sutlej, was now almost opposite. This mountain, the termination of the range to the east of the Baspa river, when viewed from the west and north-west, has the appearance of a vast precipice, rocky and bare of trees, commencing within little more than a thousand feet of the Sutlej. The north-east face, which comes into view for the first time from the heights above Miru, is covered throughout with magnificent forest, rising to an elevation considerably higher than that at which I stood.

The elevation we had now attained was higher than any previous part of our journey, being 200 feet above the peak of Hattu. A cold westerly wind was blowing up the valley of the Sutlej, evidently bringing a good deal of moisture along with it, for thin wreaths of mist were occasionally condensed, for a few minutes obscuring the distant view, and then melting again into transparent vapour. The vegetation was less different from that below, than I had expected, and much more luxuriant than I could have supposed, with nothing of an alpine character. Many of the species were identical with those of Nagkanda and the crest of Hattu; but there was no bamboo, nor any of the Acanthaceæ, so common in the more shady and humid forest further east. Balsams, however, were abundant and large, Potentillæ, Salvia nubicola, and Nepetæ, Polygona, Achilleæ, Gnaphalia, and several species of Pedicularis and Ophelia, formed a thick and rank growth. The most remarkable forms observed were Astragaline, of which several species, one a spinous Caragana, were abundant. A pretty little Veronica and Bupleurum, and several new Cichoraceæ, were also collected, as well as an Orobanche, parasitical upon the roots of the common thyme (Thymus Serpyllum).

From the crest, the remainder of the road consists of a succession of short ascents and descents, along the face of a very rocky hill, till within a mile of Rogi, when it descends very abruptly down the side of a rugged ravine to that village, which, though elevated 9000 feet, lies low down on the mountain-side, and has the appearance of being in a hollow. At Rogi we found the grapes quite ripe, and extremely abundant, but all from vineyards at lower levels. The commonest grape is globular, and of a deep, nearly black colour; but many varieties are cultivated. The apricots were also ripe, and had been gathered from the trees. The flat tops of the houses were now covered with them, drying in the sun. They are split up the middle and dried, the stones being taken out. In this state they keep well, and form a considerable article of export to India. Peach and walnut trees are also common at Rogi, and I saw a few apple-trees. A species of willow, which, in shape of leaf and general appearance, closely resembles a common English willow (Salix alba), is commonly planted along with a glabrous poplar, a small, rather spreading tree, which is frequent throughout Tibet, and seems to be the balsam poplar of Siberia and North America. The English henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) abounds in waste places. This also is a common Tibetan plant, and extends into the drier valleys of the Himalaya, such as Kunawar and Kashmir, but not into the outer mountains, where the periodical rains are heavy.

On the 17th of August we proceeded to Pangi, nine miles farther, passing on the road the village of Chini, the largest inhabited place and most fertile tract of Kunawar, of which it may therefore be considered the capital. From Rogi we had to make a considerable ascent to regain the road, that village lying lower than the direct route from Miru. The ascent lay first through the cultivated lands of the village, and afterwards through open wood. After regaining the road, the ascent continued through a gloomy forest of large deodar-trees for about a mile, terminating at about 10,000 feet of elevation, at which height, turning round a corner on the crest of the ridge, we found ourselves on the upper part of a precipitous cliff, which descends sheer down to the Sutlej. Unfortunately the morning was very misty, a dense fog, condensed from the steadily blowing west wind, enveloping everything, till after ten o'clock, by which time we had long passed the precipitous part of the road. We were told, however, that the cliff was absolutely impracticable below, and, indeed, even where we passed, no little engineering skill was displayed, as the road led along the face of an absolute precipice, on ledges scarcely three feet broad, or just as often over wooden planking, supported at intervals by large upright pieces of timber, whose resting-places were invisible in the dense mist by which we were surrounded.

As soon as this rocky projection was passed, the road descended rapidly, but over good level ground for half a mile, through a forest of deodar, in which some of the trees were of large size, one of them measuring nineteen feet eight inches in circumference. At the bottom of this descent, after passing a projecting rocky ridge, the village of Chini came in sight, straggling along the side of a sloping hill. Chini occupies the most level, and therefore the most fertile, valley in Kunawar. The village is prettily situated among deodar-trees, while below, and on either side of it, the slopes are disposed in a succession of terraces, some of them of considerable extent, richly cultivated with wheat, barley, and buckwheat. Through this fertile tract, the road was quite level, winding among the stone enclosures of the fields, and often bordered on both sides by grassy pastures, or patches of beautiful green turf, where the little rills, which served to irrigate the fields, had overflowed their banks, and converted the flat land into swampy meadows. Near Chini, we passed a single vineyard of small extent, at an elevation of 7000 feet, the fruit still quite unripe, though for several days we had been plentifully supplied with ripe grapes from the lower vineyards. The vines are supported by erect poles, about four feet high, placed about three feet apart, and connected by horizontal ones laid across them, on which the vines twine.

A little further we passed the small village of Kashbir, consisting of two or three houses only; beyond which a pleasant forest of deodar and Gerard's pine was entered, quite dry, and almost devoid of undergrowth; a few bushes of Daphne, occasionally a small ash-tree, two or three stunted oaks, and quantities of withered grass and dried-up Artemisia, being the only plants observed. Everything looked arid, notwithstanding the eastern exposure, and showed strikingly the rapid change of climate which was taking place. Some of the trees of Pinus Gerardiana, which seemed to thrive more in this arid wood than further west, were between fifty and sixty feet in height, and one of the largest of them which I noticed was nearly twelve feet in circumference. Through this forest the road continued nearly level, till it reached a ravine, on the opposite bank of which was situated the village of Pangi. A very steep descent of half a mile brought us to the stream; and an ascent of more than a mile, in the course of which we rose about 1000 feet vertically, terminated the day's journey. Pangi is a large village, 9000 feet above the level of the sea, with much cultivation and magnificent orchards of apricots, peaches, and walnuts.

From Chegaon to Pangi we had passed through the finest and most fertile part of Kunawar, which is, however, by no means confined to the north bank of the Sutlej; many large villages having been seen on the opposite side of the valley, with almost as much cultivation as those through which we had passed. The communication across the Sutlej is kept up by paths which lead through the lower cultivation and vineyards to the bank of the river, which is spanned in several places by rope-bridges, one of which only, we saw at a distance. During these three days' journey, the weather was most beautiful, and we could never sufficiently admire the ever-changing beauties of the scenery, which, probably, for variety and magnificence, is nowhere surpassed. The great peak of Raldang, a culminating point of the south Sutlej Himalaya, lies nearly opposite to Chini, and, from a great part of the Kunawar valley, is a prominent feature from almost every point of view. It forms a rugged rocky mass, and the ravines on its slopes are filled with large masses of snow, the lowest beds at this season of a dirty grey colour, and evidently still rapidly receding under the influence of the powerful autumn sun. No glaciers were anywhere in sight.

We were now about to enter upon a very troublesome part of our journey, the crossing of the various ridges which are given off by the mountain range north of the Sutlej, at the great bend of that river where it is joined by the almost equally large Piti river, from the north. These long ranges, given off by an axis 18,000 feet in height, slope at first gently towards these rivers, but at last dip extremely abruptly into the enormous ravine, at the bottom of which the Piti and Sutlej rivers run. Occasionally a rugged and difficult footpath may be found to lead among these precipices, by frequent steep ascents and descents, at no great distance above the river. These paths are always most laborious, and often very dangerous, and the usual road into the valley of the Piti river leads across the higher part of all these ridges, where they are no longer precipitous, but slope at a gentle inclination.

During the journey from Simla, I had been able to acquire very little information regarding the geology of the valley of the Sutlej; the quantity of forest, and the rapidity with which we travelled, being unfavourable to the determination of the nature of the rocks. In the earlier part of our journey argillaceous schist, often highly micaceous, predominated. In Kunawar, from Wangtu eastward, gneiss and mica-schist were almost the only rocks which I observed. These appeared to alternate again and again as we advanced, but I obtained no certainty regarding their relative position. Veins of granite occurred occasionally in the gneiss, especially at Wangtu, and probably, from the number of boulders, the axis of the range north of the Sutlej is composed of granite.

Behind Pangi is the Werang ridge, crossed by the pass of that name at a point where its height is 13,200 feet above the sea. This ridge, as will be seen by the map, separates the valley east of Pangi from that of Lipa, the next in succession to the eastward, through which a large tributary flows to join the Sutlej. From Pangi to Lipa, the distance, though considerable, is not too much for an active man to accomplish in one day. It would, however, have been a very long march, allowing of no delay on the way, or on the top of the pass. We therefore divided the distance into two days' journey, ascending on the 18th of August to the upper limit of tree vegetation on the west side of the ridge, and leaving the remainder of the ascent and the whole descent for the next day.

At daybreak we were on foot, preparing for the ascent. The morning was, as usual for some days past, thickly foggy, and a heavy dew had fallen during the night. At starting we ascended gently through a dry pine-wood, towards the face of the mountain ridge of which Pangi occupies the western slope. This ridge, like that above Rogi, on the previous day's journey, is very precipitous towards the Sutlej; and the road leads among rocks, and sometimes over planks of wood, ascending gradually as we advanced. After about a mile and a half, rounding the most projecting part of the ridge, we began to recede from the Sutlej on the eastern slope of the range, along the western side of a beautifully wooded open valley, at the bottom of which ran a large rapid stream, evidently descending from snow. Without descending at all, we continued to advance for a mile and a half through fine forest, till we nearly met the stream, which we crossed after a slight abrupt descent. Immediately after crossing, a steep fatiguing ascent of not less than three miles commenced, continuing, with scarcely any intermission, till we reached the spot selected for our encampment, inclining all the way in the direction of the course of the stream, and therefore towards the Sutlej; so that when we stopped, we almost overlooked that river, and had a fine view of the peak of Raldang, covered with a dazzling coat of fresh snow.

The forest at the base of this ascent was principally composed of deodar and Gerard's pine. The former continued abundant till within a quarter of a mile of the top, when it suddenly disappeared. Pinus Gerardiana gradually diminished in number during the ascent, and at last disappeared about the same time as the deodar. Pinus excelsa was not seen at the bottom, and was scarce on the earlier part of the ascent, but became more abundant as we increased our elevation, and was the only tree seen round our encampment. At this point the trees were straggling and distant, but very tall and luxuriant, being well sheltered by rocks. Above our encampment, which was, according to Captain Strachey's barometer, 11,800 feet, there were only a very few stunted trees on a rocky ridge behind. Excepting in the occurrence of a few new species of Astragalus and Artemisia, now quite typical forms, the vegetation during the greater part of the ascent was the same as on the higher levels east of Miru, and it was only above 11,000 feet that any considerable change was observed. Here three species of juniper made their appearance, all stunted bushes, though one of them was J. excelsa, which, in more favourable circumstances, grows to a small tree. The second species was J. squamosa, a depressed shrub, with rigid twisted branches, and the third was undistinguishable from the common juniper of Europe. A thorny species of Ribes, very like the common gooseberry, a strongly scented Labiate, Dictamnus Himalayanus, several Compositæ, one of which was a large-flowered thistle, and European-looking Junci and grasses, were all observed above 11,000 feet. A beautiful Rose (R. Webbiana) was common all the way from the stream.

During the ascent, after crossing the ravine, the rock was throughout gneiss, passing sometimes into a curious dark slaty rock. It was often very fine-grained; and in one place a granite vein was observed, entirely without stratification, and about a foot thick. Throughout the ascent the surface was strewed with erratic blocks of granite, evidently transported from a distance.

The slope below our camp, for several hundred feet, was cultivated with barley, but the crops were indifferent. Lower down, the mountain-side was too steep to admit of tillage. There were no houses, the fields being the property of the inhabitants of a village a long way below, to the east of Pangi.

The morning of the 19th, before sunrise, was a good deal clearer than the two last had been, but mist began to collect soon after sunrise, and did not entirely disappear for about two hours. Immediately after starting, the last trees of Pinus excelsa were left behind, and the ascent to the crest of the pass was gentle, over rough stony ground, covered with tufts of juniper, a shrubby Artemisia, and Pteris aquilina. The pass, which has an elevation of 13,200 feet, occupies a low part of the ridge, the slope to the left descending gently, but rising again into a sharp rocky peak, five or six hundred feet higher. The crest of the pass is a vast mass of loose rocks, and the slopes of the hill on the right are likewise covered with a mass of fragments. These angular boulders are all granite, none of which occurs in situ; the rocks throughout the ascent, so far as I could observe, being gneiss and mica-slate, the latter in one place containing large crystals of cyanite in great abundance.

In the crevices of the loose stones which covered the pass, a very luxuriant vegetation was found; the same plants grew on the hill to the right, and were especially abundant among its rocky recesses. The forms were, for the first time on our journey, quite alpine, very few of the plants being even shrubby, while the great majority were small herbs. A willow, a very small Rhododendron, and Andromeda fastigiata, were almost the only shrubby plants, and the majority of forms were those common on the Alps of Europe, and comprised species of Astragalus, Stellaria, Anemone, Ranunculus, Meconopsis, Saxifraga, Sedum, several Umbelliferæ, Pedicularis, Gentiana, Gnaphalium, Dolomiæa, Saussurea, Artemisia, Ligularia, Morina, Galium, Valeriana, and many others. I added to my collection in all about thirty new species in a very short time. I had, however, never before been at so great an elevation in the Himalaya, so that almost every plant I met was new to me.

The view from the top of the pass was only remarkable for its barrenness. In the direction we had ascended, the prospect was not striking; and to the north-east, the valley in advance and hills beyond were almost bare, scattered bushes and very little forest being visible. The wind blew over the pass from the Indian side, and continued throughout the day to blow on our backs strongly as we descended.

From the crest of the pass, the descent to Lipa was long and steep, the distance being about five miles. At about 500 feet or rather more (of perpendicular height) below the pass, the first tree, a large birch, stood quite alone, with a stout erect trunk. A little further down, a small grove of the same trees was passed, in which every individual had its trunk bent in the direction of the slope, probably by the weight of the winter's snow. No birches had been seen on the south face of the pass, nor did the dwarf Rhododendron and little Andromeda appear till the summit had been gained, though they were abundant on the northern face. Rhododendron campanulatum was the next plant observed, forming bushes four or five feet in height, and growing in large green patches, along with the willow, which I had found on the top, and the same rose common on the southern side. About 1200 feet below the summit, that is, about 12,000 feet above the sea, pine-trees commenced—Pinus excelsa and Picea making their appearance together, the deodar not till a considerably lower level had been reached. The trees of silver fir were small, with smaller and shorter leaves than the common tree of the forests in the outer Himalaya, and were therefore the true Picea Webbiana of Royle, the more common long-leaved form being the Picea Pindrow of that author[5].

At an elevation of 11,000 feet, at a rough estimate, we passed the first deodars, and at the same height cultivation commenced. The first fields were wheat, now nearly ripe. With the cultivation many plants of lower elevation began to appear, which had disappeared on the upper part of the mountain, but many were missed which had been common, and the general aspect of the vegetation was strikingly altered, the diminution affecting at once the number, the abundance, and the luxuriance of the plants. Juniper was frequent till some time after the first corn-fields were passed, and Gerard's pine was common on the lower part of the descent. Throughout the whole distance from the crest to the Lipa stream, the road lay along a ravine, which was very rough and uneven, and covered with numerous and often very large boulders of granite[6] scattered irregularly over the surface of the valley. Towards the end of the day's march, we reached the Lipa stream, which was of large size; and we continued along its right bank, through a dry fir-wood, till close to the village, when we crossed by a substantial wooden bridge to enter Lipa, which is situate on a flattish piece of ground on the left bank of the stream, and very little above its level. It is a small village, with some cultivation, and a rather odd-looking little temple, close to which are two fine trees of Juniperus excelsa, the sacred juniper of the Kunawarees and Tibetans. We were accommodated with a room close to the temple, which afforded us sufficiently comfortable quarters.

At the back of the village a thick bank of alluvial clay was observed resting on the rocks behind, and vast masses of the same extended up the valley for a considerable distance. This was the first occurrence of a very common feature of Tibetan valleys, so common as to be almost universal; and as I shall have many opportunities of referring to it again, and shall find it necessary to try to give some explanation, or rather to attempt some conjectures as to its cause, I shall only here pause to observe that the first time of its occurrence coincided with the first entrance into an extremely dry climate; the passage of the Werang ridge having effected a greater change in the aspect of the country than had been seen during very many previous days—the change from luxuriant forest, not indeed to treelessness, but to thin and stunted woods.

In the valley of Lipa I met with a species of caper, apparently the same which I had collected at Rampur on the Sutlej, on hot rocky places close to the river, but which had not been met with in the intermediate parts of the journey. This little prickly shrub I afterwards found to be a common Tibetan plant, which (like most of its tribe) prefers the hottest and driest exposures, expanding its large white blossoms on dry stony ground, or among rocks where hardly any other plant will vegetate.

Lipa is situated at no great distance from the Sutlej, at an elevation of 8000 feet above the level of the sea. The next range to the eastward is that of Runang, separating the Lipa valley from that of the Ruskalan, on which is situated the village of Sungnam. As in the former instance, we divided the passage into two days' journey, encamping on the 20th of August at an elevation of 12,500 feet. The road began to ascend as soon as we left Lipa. At first we took the direction of the stream, gradually rising along the face of a rocky hill composed of a dark clay-slate, which had now taken the place of the gneiss of the lower part of the Sutlej; but turning to the left, to ascend the ridge, as soon as its crest had been gained. The surface was everywhere barren and dried up. A few scattered pine trees occurred at intervals, but nothing approaching to forest, and the parched stony ground was quite destitute of any covering of turf or of herbaceous vegetation in sufficient quantity to attract the notice of the general observer. The ascent on the ridge was steep and uninterrupted; but as the general direction of the day's journey was down the range, or towards the Sutlej, we had to pass from one ridge to the next in succession, across the ravine by which the two were separated. Here the road was nearly level, and took a long curve in the receding hollow of the hill, turning round a belt of green which occupied the middle of the hollow.

On the left hand, above the road, there was not a trace of verdure in the ravine; but just below the road a small spring burst out from the stony ground. For three or four yards the banks of the little streamlet were quite bare, but at about that distance from its source they were fringed with luxuriant marsh plants, Veronica Beccabunga and Anagallis, rushes, and several kinds of grasses, which gradually increased in abundance. Within a hundred yards of its origin a thicket of willows bordered the stream, and a rich vegetation grew under their shade. From this it would appear that the barrenness of the country cannot be ascribed to any fault of temperature or of altitude, but solely to the deficiency of moisture.

On the next ridge beyond this little green spot, the ascent continued steep, over loose shingly soil, among scattered trees of deodar, and occasionally a fine tree of Pinus Gerardiana; a spinous Astragalus, and several species of Artemisia, formed almost all the scanty vegetation. Higher up there was, in one place, a good view of the Sutlej to the south-east, with a very lofty snowy mountain beyond. A little further on, the pines ceased to grow, and no tree but juniper was seen, the vegetation becoming more and more wretched in appearance, though the same Astragalus and Artemisiæ predominated. Above 12,000 feet, two or three alpine species made their appearance; these were a Polygonum, a Mulgedium, and a little shrubby Potentilla. Except these, however, not one of the numerous alpine forms observed on the Werang pass two days before were to be seen.

We encamped at an elevation of 12,500 feet on the north-east slope of the ridge, overhanging a deep wide valley, in which there were several patches of cultivation still green, at an elevation which I estimated at about 1000 feet below the level of our tents. By this wide valley, (in the lower part of which, on its east side, is the village of Kanam,) we were still separated from the central range on which the Runang pass is situated. The hills all round had a desolate aspect. They were rounded in outline, and appeared quite smooth and destitute of herbage, excepting large dark-green patches of juniper, by which they were mottled. A single stunted tree of Pinus excelsa stood within a short distance of our encampment, and four or five hundred feet lower was a small grove, apparently of birch. During the afternoon a furious west wind blew without intermission. The morning had been quite calm, but before noon the wind had begun to blow, and gradually increased in violence till late in the afternoon; after dark it became calm.

The next morning was clear, with scarcely any wind, but the mountains above us were partly shrouded in mist. For the first time during our journey we had Zobos furnished for the conveyance of our tents. These animals, which are mules between a Yak bull and Indian cow, are intermediate between the two, having most of the peculiarities by which the Yak is distinguished, though in a much less degree. Their colour varies much,—black, white, and iron-grey being all common. They have coarse long shaggy hair, much shorter than in the Yak, a stout rounded body, and the tail has a small tuft at the end, quite similar in miniature to that of the Yak. These mules are exceedingly common in Upper Kunawar and Hangarang, and are much preferred as beasts of burden to the Yak, being more docile, and less sensitive to climatic influences.

The first half-mile of the ascent to the pass was very gentle, till we passed round the hollow of the valley which lay below our encampment. The hill-sides were covered with stones, among which grew a few tufts of thyme, a large-leaved saxifrage, a yellow Scorzonera, a curious Polygonum, and an Oxyria, the same in appearance with that of the Alps of Europe. Two or three little rills of water trickled across the road, but their margins had no trace of green. The remainder of the ascent was more rapid, but nowhere fatiguing, and I reached the top about 9 A.M. Nothing can be conceived more dreary and bare than the aspect of the pass and the mountains all around. The hills, which at a distance appeared smooth and rounded, were now seen to be covered with loose stones piled upon one another, in the crevices of which a few plants found an attachment for their roots. The elevation was about 14,500 feet, but there was no appearance of snow. To the north-east a wide and straight valley ran from the crest, at the end of which, far below and perhaps eight miles off, was seen the village of Sungnam, beyond which another lofty range of equally rounded mountains, apparently smooth, ran parallel to that on which I stood. On this range, at a level, to the eye sensibly the same as that of the Runang pass, an evident track indicated the pass of Hangarang, over which lay the continuation of our journey.

I spent a considerable time on the top of the pass, and by close searching, in the crevices of the stones, especially on the hill which rose to the south-east, I succeeded in collecting a considerable number of species of plants, though very much fewer than on the Werang pass two days before. From our morning's camp to the top of the pass the whole number of species which I met with was only forty-six, not half of which were observed on the summit. The number gathered on the former pass was nearly three times as great. It must not be forgotten, however, in comparing the two ranges, that the Werang pass is 1300 feet lower than that of Runang, and ought therefore, independent of climate, to be more productive. The species which were observed for the first time on the summit of the Runang pass were not more than six, and were all forms which I have since found to be abundant throughout the higher parts of Tibet. A little willow, creeping among the stones, and scarcely more luxuriant than Salix herbacea, was the only shrubby plant. The others were Oxytropis chiliophylla, Biebersteinia odora, a Draba, Lamium rhomboideum of Bentham, and a species of rhubarb, of which I found only a few leaves and one or two panicles, from which the ripe fruit had nearly fallen away.

The descent from the pass to Sungnam was even more barren and desolate than the other side. The valley was open and almost straight, and the slope gradual. Till nearly half-way not a drop of water occurred on the road, and for miles almost the only vegetation on the hill-sides was an erect branched Polygonum, never more than a foot in height. At an elevation of about 10,000 feet, a few deodars occurred, all miserably stunted in height, though often with trunks of considerable diameter. Gerard's pine, and the ash of Tibet, also appeared a little lower, but in very small numbers. During the greater part of the descent, the white houses of Sungnam were in sight, to all appearance at the end of the valley down which we were proceeding; but when near the bottom, we discovered that we were still separated from them by a wide and level plain, that of the Ruskalan river. On the opposite side of this plain, on the side of a hill just sufficiently high to terminate the vista down the valley by which we descended from the pass, stands the town of Sungnam; while the cultivated lands, which form a wide belt, scarcely higher than the level of the river, were entirely out of sight till we arrived close to the precipitous bank parallel to the river. Here the descent was abrupt to the bed of the Ruskalan. The bank was alluvial, with enormous boulders, and was covered with tufts of Ephedra, a remarkable leafless plant with rod-like branches, which is abundant in every part of northern Tibet, especially in the driest and hottest exposures. It extends also occasionally into the partially rainy district, being found in Kunawar nearly as far west as the bridge of Wangtu.

Sungnam is one of the principal places of Kunawar, dividing with Kanam, which we did not visit, the claim to be the principal seat in the Sutlej valley of the Buddhist religion. It contains numerous temples and monasteries, with also a considerable industrial population. Cultivation occupies a great part of the valley, and extends up the course of the stream to a considerable distance. The level tract along the river has in many places a breadth of nearly a quarter of a mile, and the town occupies a ridge on the mountain side, to which a gently-sloping road leads from the bridge by which we crossed the Ruskalan.

The elevation of Sungnam above the level of the sea is 9000 feet. Still the vine thrives well, the steep slopes facing the river being covered with vineyards: the grapes were not yet ripe. The principal fruit-trees are apricots and apples. Willows and poplars are also frequent in the village; a new species of the latter being for the first time observed, with leaves white and downy underneath, which appears in no way to differ from Populus alba, the common white poplar of Europe.

CHAPTER IV.

Hangarang ridge separates Kunawar from Piti—Ascent to Hangarang Pass—Alluvial deposit—Steep ascent—View of valley—Limestone rocks—Caragana versicolor, or Dama—Camp at 14,000 feet—Top of pass—View from pass—Vegetation of summit—Descent to Hango—Cultivation round the village—Luxuriant wild plants—Road to Lio—Crambe—Ravine of Piti river—Lio—Bridge over Piti river—Ascent to Nako—Nako—Cultivation of the village—Buddhist temple—Transported blocks—Chango—Changar—Stopped by villagers on Chinese frontier—Natural bridge—Kyuri—Alluvium—Clay deposit with shells—Lari—Ramifications of mountain ranges—Alluvial platforms—Pok—Dankar—Lara—Rangrig—Upper part of Piti—Climate—Saline exudations

The Hangarang ridge, as we may conveniently call that mountain range on which the pass of Hangarang is situated, forms the boundary between the districts of Kunawar and Hangarang. As this range terminates at or close to the point where the Sutlej is joined by the Piti river, this division is geographically convenient. It has also a marked physical signification, forming the absolute limit of the deodar and Gerard's pine; and indeed, if we except the juniper, of all tree vegetation.

On the 22nd of August, our party left Sungnam to ascend towards the Hangarang pass, encamping, as on the two previous occasions, on the upper part of the ascent, so as to get to the summit of the pass at an early hour next day. Our road lay up a narrow ravine, through which a small stream descended from the vicinity of the Hangarang pass, to join the Ruskalan immediately below Sungnam. We followed for a long time the course of this rivulet, so that the ascent was by no means fatiguing. A very few stunted deodars, and a single tree of Pinus Gerardiana, were the only trees met with. A little shrubby vegetation was now and then seen, consisting of an ash, rose, Colutea, Lonicera, and Spiræa. The banks of the ravine were everywhere composed of a conglomerate of angular stones, in general imbedded in soft clay, though the matrix was not unfrequently calcareous, and in several places even composed of crystalline carbonate of lime.

The hard calcareous conglomerates are, I think, of different origin from the clayey ones. Indeed, I was induced to believe from what I saw in the neighbourhood of Sungnam, and occasionally in other districts (as I shall have again occasion to notice), that the calcareous conglomerates, which only occur in the neighbourhood of the limestone formation, and therefore where calcareous springs are common, are formed by the infiltration of water containing lime among beds of loose shingle which have accumulated along the base of the steep hills. These calcareous conglomerates are quite local, never very extensive, and are often covered with an incrustation of lime, showing the continued existence of the calcareous springs, by the action of which I suppose them to have been formed.

The clay beds, on the other hand, are continuous and uniform in appearance. They vary much in thickness, but are on the whole much thicker and more remarkable in the upper part of the ravine, where (on the east side) a mass of clay, not less than five or six hundred feet in thickness, has accumulated, forming steep sloping or quite perpendicular banks, which at the top are worn away into pinnacles, and excavated into deep grooves and hollows, I presume by the action of melting snow. The fragments of rock which it contained were all angular, or at most a very little worn at the edges.

Five or six miles from Sungnam, the road left the course of the ravine, and began rapidly to ascend the steep spur which bounded it on the left. At first we followed a fissure in the clay conglomerate, which still had a thickness of nearly two hundred feet. Above, the ridge was rocky and very steep. When we had attained a sufficient height to overlook the valley by which we had ascended from Sungnam, I was able to estimate better than while in the ravine, the extent of the clay deposit. It was now seen to occupy both sides of the valley, and to be pretty equally diffused throughout, but certainly thicker on the left or eastern side,—in the upper part at least, for low down, just behind Sungnam, it capped a round sloping hill of considerable elevation to the right of the little streamlet and of the road. The valley did not narrow at the lower extremity, where it debouched into that of the Ruskalan, so much as to give any reason for supposing that it could have been closed by a barrier, so as to form a lake. Indeed, the absolute elevation of the conglomerate was so great at the upper end of the valley, that it would be necessary to suppose a barrier several thousand feet above the bed of the Ruskalan to produce such an effect. The greater thickness of the conglomerate in the upper part of the ravine, and the almost complete angularity of the fragments, were equally opposed to such a view. Nor was I able to form any probable conjecture as to the mode in which these accumulations had been formed.

In the earlier part of the day's journey, the rock, where exposed, was invariably clay-slate, not different in appearance from that which, commencing at Lipa, had been observed on every part of the Runang ridge. It dipped generally at a high angle, but was often much contorted. In the upper part of the ravine, thick beds of a hard cherty quartz rock alternated with the slate; and in the course of the last steep ascent, at an elevation of about 13,500 feet, the first limestone was observed. It was of a dark blue colour, very hard, coarsely stratified, and much veined with white calcareous spar. It seemed to dip at a high angle towards the north-east.

The ridge by which we ascended was quite bare of trees and exceedingly barren, producing very little vegetation of any sort, and no novelty, till we had almost attained an elevation of 14,000 feet. We then observed bushes of a species of Caragana (C. versicolor), the Dama of the Tibetans, a very curious stunted shrub, which is very extensively distributed at elevations which no other woody plants attain, and which, therefore, is much prized and extensively used as fuel. I had not met with it before, nor does it appear to extend at all into the wooded region of the Himalaya. We encamped on a flat piece of ground at 14,000 feet. Notwithstanding the elevation, the heat of the sun was very great during the day, but the evening and night were extremely cold.