Returning to our lodgings, we found that the lock of the bag in which I kept my money had been tampered with, but I did not [26]open it, as six other persons were living in the room we occupied, and I feared lest they might see the contents. Whatever the loss might be, I made up my mind to bear it silently, and keep my suspicions to myself.

November 25.—Phurchung’s brother, Dao Namgyal, brought me a quantity of presents—potatoes, murwa, millet, butter, and last, but not least, a kid, for which I gave him a return present of five rupees. The poor people of the village all followed with various presents, not that they had any great respect for me, but solely with an eye to return presents, which they hoped would be greater than the value of theirs. Fortunately there were but few people in the village, otherwise they would have drained me of all my cash.

By noon Phurchung had sufficiently slept off his drunkenness to procure for me several pair of kyar,38 or snowshoes, from the people of the village. I had learnt from a newly engaged coolie that he had lately crossed the Kangla pass on kyar, and had reached Jongri, where he had met Captain Harman, who had been much struck by the great usefulness of this rude contrivance.

In the evening the men killed two kids; the blood was poured into the intestines, which had been washed and cleaned, barley-flour (tsamba) being mixed with it.39 These blood puddings were boiled and packed away with the tripe in a small wicker basket for my use on the journey.

It is told of the upper Kangpa-chan valley that it was first peopled by Tibetans, called Sharpa (Easterners), whose original home was in the mountains of Shar Khambu, or Eastern Kirata.40 Lower down the valley lived the Magar tribe from Nepal, whose chief extended his sway over the Sharpa, and exacted such oppressive taxes from them that they decided to avenge themselves. The Magar chief, going to the village of Kangpa-chan, he and his followers were [27]murdered, and their bodies buried. No clue could be had of the missing men, so the chief’s wife went herself to Kangpa-chan, but she also failed to discover what had become of them. While going along the river bank, a boulder, undermined by the current, tumbled down, when a swarm of flies flew buzzing out. Attracted by this, the queen had the earth removed, and discovered the bodies of her husband and his followers. Returning home with the chief’s body, she ordered great funeral ceremonies to be held at a place some six miles up the river, near the Rapa-chan torrent, midway between the two great villages of the Kangpa-chan valley—Gyunsar and Yarsa,41 as being more accessible for the people, for whose entertainment great bowls of wine were to be provided. In the wine poison was mixed; and as soon as the Magars had finished drinking, they passed it to the Kangpa-chan people, who drank deeply, and fell asleep to awake no more. Nearly a thousand people were in this way done to death, and the babies were carried away by the queen’s followers. The place where this foul deed was done became known as Tong-shong phug, “the place which witnessed a thousand murders.”

The few who escaped carried the news to Tibet, and soon returned with a large army to wage war against the Magars. The queen shut herself up in one of her castles, and, though ill-prepared to stand a siege, she and her people defended it for three months. The Tibetans decided to reduce the place by famine and by cutting off the water-supply. Then the queen, to deceive them, opened the reservoir in the castle and let the water flow towards the Tibetan camp; and the enemy, thinking that she must have a great store of it and that their attempt was vain, raised the siege, and withdrew to a distance. The queen now attacked them in turn, but fell in the first skirmish, fighting valiantly. The Tibetans finally expelled the Magars from the Kangpa-chan and Tambur valleys, and restored them to their former possessors.

It was among the Kangpa-chan tribe that I had found Phurchung, the most devoted and faithful of all the men I ever came across in the Himalayas. Although Ugyen distrusted him, and he abhorred Ugyen, yet I placed implicit confidence in his loyalty and ability, and his devotion and fidelity to me were boundless.

November 26.—We left Kangpa-chan, our party now comprising [28]four coolies. Phurchung marched along with my gun as a sign of his importance, but its red cloth cover, its principal beauty, had been stolen the night before; his younger brother, Sonam-dorj, carried his pack. Ugyen-gyatso and I rode ponies, hired for eight annas each, to take us halfway up the Nango la. The old women (ama) of the village waited our approach at the east end of the bridge to give us the stirrup cup (chang kyel) (a custom invariably observed in Tibet at the parting of friends setting out on a long journey), with bowls of wine in their right hand, and plates full of parched barley flour (tsamba) in their left. Each of the old women poured a little wine into a china cup, to which a pinch of flour was added, and we were asked to take a sip, with the wish of “May we offer you the like on your return.” We thanked them for their kindness, and put a couple of rupees in one of their plates, to be divided amongst them.

We rode slowly on by the bounding river, into which a number of little rills empty, flowing down from behind the monastery, and over which were several prayer-wheels turned by the water. Our way lay amidst thick woods up to Daba ngonpo, where the natives used to get blue clay to make images. This clay they held to be exceptionally good, as it came from the summit of a holy mountain. From this point we followed up the bed of a former glacier, passing Kamai phugpa, and reaching at Khama kang tung, the timber line. A mile beyond the latter place we came to the end of the pasture-lands on this side the Nango la, not far from which we saw a flock of spotted birds, called sregpa,42 which Ugyen tried, without success, to shoot.

The ascent of the Nango la now began over deep snow, in some places its surface frozen, in others so soft that we sunk knee-deep in it. I soon became so exhausted that I had to get one of the coolies to carry me on his back, and so we reached the summit of the pass.43

Two miles to the west of the pass is Sayong kong, a plateau whence there is a direct road leading to Yangma. A mile below this place is Sayong-hok,44 where vegetation begins again, and [29]gradually increases as one advances along the Lungkyong chu. We camped on the river bank under a great boulder, spreading our rugs on beds of long dry grass, which covered, but very imperfectly, the rough, stony soil.

November 27.—We followed down the Lungkyong chu (the only way of communication between Kangpa-chan, Yangma, and Wallung), the mountains on our left nearly hidden in the morning mists. For part of the way our road led along a steep path through thick woods of firs, feathery larches, and deodars, amidst which I saw many pheasants and other kinds of birds, and the coolies told me that musk deer and wild sheep were also found there.

About two miles above the junction of the Yangma with the Lungkyong, we crossed the former stream by a wooden bridge, and finally arrived at the village of Tingugma, where we rested a while and ate a light meal.

Shortly after starting again we met a party of Yangma natives driving before them a few sheep and a dozen yaks laden with blankets, yak hides, barley, and salt. They were going to a village called Chaini, in the Tambur valley, to exchange their goods for rice and Indian corn. Phurchung asked them if the Kangla chen pass was still open. Some said we could easily cross it; others expressed doubts about it, for they said three feet of snow had fallen on it a few days previously.

Passing by Maya phug (a cavern sacred to the goddess Mamo), we crossed a little juniper-covered plateau called Shugpa thang (“Juniper plain”), and after a short but steep climb reached the summit of the pass, from whence I had a most extended and beautiful view of the surrounding country—behind me great reddish granite rocks, looking like the ruins of gigantic ramparts; before me a plain some two miles long, the bed of a former glacier, encircled by snowy mountains rising the one above the other; while to the south-east was the Nango la, and behind it the plain of Sumdongma. Crossing the Djari thang, or “Plain of Gravel,” and the Do la, or “Rocky pass” (round the base of which the Yangma flows), I reached by dusk the monastery of Yangma, or Manding gomba, situated on a broad, shrub-covered terrace some 40 to 50 feet above the stream; where Phurchung found me lodgings in a wretched cell, where I settled myself as best I could for the night. He obtained a few eggs and some milk from the lamas; and while one of the nuns (ani) [30]helped Dao Namgyal to cook the food, another blew the bellows. The lamas were engaged in their annual reading of the Kahgyur, which occupied them daily from 5 in the morning to 7.30 p.m., when they retired to their respective cells. There were fifteen monks and seven ani in the lamasery.45

Ugyen had been suffering most of the day with violent pains in the bowels; he now wrapped himself in all the blankets I could spare, and lay groaning and crying, “Achi-che apa-ouh!” so that I felt grave apprehensions for him, and feared that his illness might oblige us to stop over in this wretched place.

November 28.—Phurchung had been away on a drunken bout all night, and I arose full of fear lest he might have disclosed our plans to his companions, and Ugyen shared my alarm. After a while Phurchung and Phuntso appeared, and with much salaaming and lolling of the tongue asked me to wait here a day, the latter assuring me that he hoped to obtain, without much difficulty or the payment of custom duty (called chua in this part of Nepal), permission for us to proceed on our journey. Shortly after the elders arrived, the richest man among them recognizable by his tamuski hat, a long earring, and a deep red serge robe of purug.46 He had come from the village of Yangma riding a half-breed yak (jo), which, with the saddle still on its back, stood tied at the gate of the monastery. I anxiously awaited the result of their conference with my men, and in great anxiety prayed to the Supreme Dispenser of our destinies that nothing might happen unfavourable to ourselves and our enterprise.

The Manding gomba, or Nub Man-ding gomba, “The Western Flying-Medicine Monastery,” owes its name to the fact that lama Lha-tsun once lived for three years in a cave close by called the Zimphug, to discover medicines of wonderful potency, and that he there obtained three wonderful pills. One came to him through the air, falling on the spot where the lamasery now stands. The second pill fell a little above the monastery, where the people of the village now burn their dead; and the third alighted on the spot where the great chorten now stands. [31]

Manding gomba is held in great sanctity, for it is one of the first cis-Himalayan lamaseries founded by the great red-hat Lama Lha-tsun; but Wallung ranks first, and Kangpa-chan second, in point of wealth and power. Manding possesses a fine copy of the Kahgyur in 125 volumes.

The Lha-khang, or temple, has massive and neatly painted walls and doors, after the manner of the Sikkim donpa. The huts or cells of the monks in its immediate vicinity, all painted red with clay obtained from the adjacent mountains, are of irregular and ugly style, the doors, windows, and cornices being roughly made; each house has around it a low stone wall, inside of which the sheep and yak find shelter.

After a little while Phurchung and Puntso came back to me in high spirits over the result of their conference with the village elders. They had told them that I was only a pilgrim (nakorpa) who spoke Tibetan and dressed in Tibetan fashion. The head lama said that he knew of no order from the Nepalese Government for stopping pilgrims on their way to Tibet, and that he would certainly not prevent me doing so, as I spoke Tibetan with greater fluency and accuracy than many Nepalese. The headman (gopa) asked that Phurchung should give bond, holding himself personally responsible for my character as a traveller, and a custom duty of eight annas a head was levied on our party. Phurchung also told me that the headman and head lama were coming to bid me farewell, and that I must not forget, after exchanging compliments with them, to say sangpoi ja chog, “May we meet again next year.”

In a little while the big men arrived. The headman, conspicuous by his earring, boots, and red serge robe, nodded to me slightly, and took off his hat. He asked me why I had chosen such a bad season for going to Tibet. I told him that I did so in obedience to the command of our holy and learned chief lama (Tsawai), and not by my own wish. His object in coming to see me was to find out if I spoke Tibetan and understood the Buddhist religion. My fluency in Tibetan, and the citing of one or two proverbial sayings in course of conversation, made him form a high opinion of my knowledge of the sacred texts and histories, as well as of my character and holiness. “Laso, laso” (yes, yes), he said, and then he apologized for not having brought me some presents; but I answered him that our acquaintance was only just begun, and there would be time in the future to [32]cultivate it, and, handing him a scarf (khatag), I expressed the hope that we might meet the next year (sangpoi ja chog). Many of the bystanders made wishes for our welfare, but some one in the crowd said that I was certainly not a Tibetan. Then another swore I was an Indian; and a third said that they would soon have news of me: “That Hindu will surely die in the snows, and his servants will soon return here with the news of his death.”

It was past noon when the coolies picked up their loads, and I set out in excellent spirits, having now escaped the much-feared obstruction from the Yangma people, on whose mercy and good-will our success entirely depended.

We passed by some mendong and chorten at the entrance to the convent, and then followed up the course of the Yangma, passing by a pretty lakelet, the Miza, or “man eating,”47 now filled with ice, and seeing on the way some very high chorten, known as thongwa kundol,48 “bringing deliverance when seen,” which had a few years previously been repaired by the head lama of Wallung. Near these we saw a half-dozen wild sheep (nao), but we gave up all idea of shooting them when told that the Yangma people think the gods of the land and mountains (Shi-bdag, ri-lha) would be deeply offended if any one molested them.

By 3 p.m. we got sight of the village of Yangma,49 whose houses could only be distinguished from the boulders everywhere strewing the ground by the smoke issuing from the roofs. There were not more than a hundred houses in the village, and the fields round about were enclosed within low stone walls. Buckwheat, barley, turnips, radishes, and potatoes are grown here, and rice brought from Yang-ku tang and other villages in the warmer valleys is procurable. The village was founded by Tibetans from Tashi-rabka, one of them having discovered the valley and its comparative fertility while hunting for a lost yak calf. The name Yangma was given it on account of the breadth of the valley.50

The male part of the population is idle in the extreme, but the [33]women are correspondingly busy; some I saw were threshing corn, some gathering fuel, others engaged in various kinds of household work.

By 5 p.m. we got off from this wretched valley, where Phurchung and the coolies, by the way, were most desirous to remain to continue drinking chang, though Phurchung showed unmistakable signs of having already imbibed too much. After an hour’s march we reached Ki phug, where we found, under an overhanging rock, a bit of ground free from snow on which to camp; but Phurchung remained behind in Yangma, in a helplessly drunken condition.

November 29.—The way lay along the Yangma, which was scarcely visible, snow and ice covering entirely its bed. There was nothing to give life to the scenery; the river flowed in a deep gorge, or else opened out into lake-like expanses; on either side the mountains seemed to reach to the sky; not a bird, not even a cloud in the heaven, not a sound save that of our feet crushing the light dry snow. It was 11 a.m. when we came to an unfrozen pool, by which we ate our breakfast of tea and meal. This place, which is in a broad portion of the valley, is a favourite summer pasture-ground (tser chan) for the Dokpas, who, from July to September, bring their herds of yaks here.

Po phug was reached after a march of three miles through the snow, then the ascent became steeper and freer from snow, and we came to Luma goma, “Fountain head,” the source of the Yangma river; and after an easy ascent of half an hour we arrived at Tsa-tsam, the limit of vegetation.51

Here we began climbing a huge glacier, a quarter of a mile wide and more than three miles long, the Chyang-chub gya-lam, or “Highway to Holiness,” over which I was carried on Phurchung’s back wherever the snow lay deep. Then we climbed a huge mass of bare black rocks (Dsama nagmo), and darkness had overtaken us before we reached the “White Cavern” (Phugpa karpo), where we proposed passing the night. The fog added to the obscurity of the night, our feet were benumbed by the cold, and we frequently slipped into crevasses or between the clefts of rocks. Finding it impossible to reach the cavern, we scraped away the snow from between some rocks, and there I sat, my knees drawn up, hugging myself during the long night. [34]

How exhausted we were with the fatigue of the day’s journey, how overcome by the rarefication of the air, the intensity of the cold, and how completely prostrated by hunger and thirst, is not easy to describe. The very remembrance of the sufferings of that dreadful night makes me shudder even now, but I quickly recover under the inexpressible delight I feel at the consciousness of my great success. This was the most trying night I ever passed in my life. There was a light breeze blowing, attended with sleet, which fortunately weighed my blankets down and made them cover me closer than they otherwise would have done. And so with neither food nor drink, placed as if in the grim jaws of death in the bleak and dreary regions of snow, where death alone dwells, we spent this most dismal night.

November 30.—The coolies once more picked up their loads, and our guide began in his gravest tones to recite his Pema-jung-ne samba duba and other mantras. The morning was gloriously radiant, and the great Kangla chen glittered before us, bathed in a glory of golden light. Fortunately for us, there was no fresh snow on the ground; for, had there been any, we could not possibly have advanced. We found that we had stopped not more than a furlong from the Phugpa karpo, which, by the way, is not a cave at all, but only a crevasse between two detached rocks. Our guide, leaving his load in charge of his brother, took the lead, driving his long stick into the snow at each step, and digging footholds in the soft snow. From the White Cavern the top of the pass bore due east, and was distant about two miles. Just at the base of the final ascent there is a little sandy plain, in the middle of which is a huge boulder: this is the “Place of Salvation” (Tarpa gang), thus called because, when once this point is reached, travellers may be confident of attaining the summit of the pass.

I steadily followed in the footsteps of the guide, and would not let him take me on his back; for if I succeeded in ascending to the highest summit of Kangla chen without any help, I could look to the achievement with greater pride. Ugyen here gave out, and it was with difficulty that I persuaded Phurchung to carry him on his back, for they were far from being on the best of terms. An hour’s hard climbing brought us to the summit of the pass. The sky was cloudless and of the deepest blue; against it a snow-clad world of mountains stood out in bold relief. Far beyond the maze of snow-clad peaks we saw in the north-west the mountains of Pherug, [35]in Tibet, while those of Shar Khambu stood gloriously out to the west.

The summit of Kangla chen is a plateau, some two miles from east to west, and one mile and a quarter from north-west to north-east; it inclines towards the west, while to the north-west it is bounded by a mountain of considerable height. Our snowshoes (kyar) now stood us in good need; unfortunately we had but three pairs, so Phurchung and I had to wade through the deep snow in the footsteps of the others, with many slips and more than one narrow escape from falling into the deep crevasses. On all sides there was nothing visible but an ocean of snow. Innumerable snowy peaks touched with their white heads the pale leaden skies, where stars were shining. The rattling roar of distant avalanches was frequently heard; but, after having succeeded in crossing the loftiest of snowy passes, I felt too transported with joy to be frightened by their thunder.

These splendid scenes of wonderland, the grandest, the most sublime my eyes have ever beheld, which bewildered me so that even now my pen finds no words to describe them, inspired me with feelings of deep gratitude to Heaven, by whose mercy my life had been spared thus far.

We camped on a rock bare of snow, and passed another miserable night with nothing to drink, and but a couple of dry biscuits to stave off our hunger. To add to my misery, Ugyen was still suffering, and I had to give him half my covering, for he had none of his own; and so, with not even enough room to lie down, we passed the night huddled together, the loads placed on the lower side of the rock so as to prevent our falling off in our sleep.

December 1.—’Twas not yet dawn when all were on foot and busy packing up. The track was hardly visible; below our path lay the great glacier, extending for miles, which feeds the Tashi-rabka river. The snowy sides of the mountains beyond this were furrowed by glacial streams, very noticeable in their varied shades of blue and green, and on the surface of the glacier itself rose huge rounded surfaces, or hummocks, evidently produced by boulders concealed under the ice.

Following carefully in the footsteps of Phurchung, we crossed some six spurs of the Dorjetagh range, and then came to an easy path down the central moraine of a former glacier, now only a huge heap of boulders and débris. The mountains lost, as we advanced, [36]the whitish colour peculiar to the Indian ranges, and assumed the blackish or ochre colour distinctive of the Tibetan region. ’Twas with a feeling of intense relief that we finally discerned vegetation and heard the babbling of a little brook, near which flew birds feeding on rhododendron and juniper berries, and a little way off we saw some herds of yaks grazing, and smoke rising from a camp fire. Here we stopped at the foot of a great rock, and enjoyed, after our long fast of two days, a meal of rice and buttered tea.

We continued down the course of the stream, passing with some apprehension near a huge bull-yak or shalu, though low stone walls separated us from him and kept him away from the she-yaks (di) in the adjacent pasturage. This part of the valley is frequently visited by packs of wolves, which kill large numbers of yaks, but the bulls are able to drive them off with their long sharp horns.

At 3 p.m. we passed Dsongo, the extreme border of the district of Tashi-rabka, and where are the ruins of a stone house built on a huge boulder. This was formerly a stage-house used by the Sikkim Raja’s people, when the Yangma and Wallung districts still belonged to him, when going to or returning from Tibet. A little way beyond this point we met some herdsmen, who made inquiries as to whence we came and where we were going. Near by were their tents, where I noticed two swarthy women and a fierce Tibetan mastiff. Phurchung entered one of the tents, sat down to chat and drink a cup of tara, a sort of thin curd.52

Ugyen was much preoccupied about our getting by Tashi-rabka and escaping its headman (Tongzungpa). At about 6 o’clock we were close to the village, and so we hid till dusk in a gully, where we boiled our tea and ate some tsamba. The moon shone out brightly when we resumed our march and passed along a portion of a high stone wall, erected by the Tibetans during the Nepalese war, when, it is said, they put up five miles of it in a day under orders of their general, the Shape Shata.53 This wall is carried across the [37]river on a bridge, where it has eight small watch towers. It crosses the whole valley, its ends being high up on the sides of the mountains. On the farther side of the wall is the village. Ugyen and Phurchung stood trembling, not knowing whether to turn back towards the Kangla chen pass or to proceed onward towards the chorten, near which the headman resides. Phuntso alone was equal to the occasion. “If the guards are awake, we will sing some of our national Wallung songs, and pass ourselves off for Wallungpa.” After a few words of encouragement to the others, we set out. Before we had reached the chorten, a voice from a yak-hair tent cried out, “Whence are you, and where are you going?” To which Phuntso replied that we were Wallungpa going to Shigatse, asked them where they were going, and without waiting for a reply we hurried on and passed by the dreaded headman’s house without awakening any one, not even the fierce mastiffs tied up in front of the dwelling.

About 30 yards beyond the house we came to the bridge, a rough structure of logs and stone slabs. The Tashi-rabka river was partly frozen, and its swift current was sweeping down blocks of ice. We crossed over unnoticed, and I then broke the silence with thanks to merciful God who had enabled us to overcome this the most dreaded of all difficulties, one which had frightened my staunch friend Phurchung, that the snows of the Kangla chen had not daunted.

We followed the river in an easterly direction, passing on the way two poor traders (Gyagar Khamba54) who were going to Wallung to sell a wild sheep (nao) they had killed. Then we came to Ri-u, where is a large Nyingma55 monastery, and three miles further on to a bridge over the two branches of the river. ’Twas nearly midnight when we reached a sand-covered hillock called Shara, where we halted for the night, and slept in a sheepfold, near which two hunters with a hound (shyakhi) were also camped.

December 2.—At sunrise we resumed our journey, and after an hour’s march got sight of the village of Guma Shara, at the foot of a range of mountains trending north-west and south-east. Leaving [38]this village some miles away (on our right?), we turned a little to the north and made for the Langbu la. There was not a soul to be seen on the vast table-land we were traversing, only a few little birds like swallows twittered on the hillsides by the way, and some kites were soaring in the sky near Guma Shara. We ascended steadily till we came to the foot of the pass, from which point the summit was reached by a zigzag cut in the rocks, the whole surface of which was inscribed with the mystic syllables, Om mani padmé hum.56 I became so fatigued before the summit (some 700 feet above the plateau) was reached, that Phuntso had to carry me up; and Ugyen also made the ascent on Phurchung’s back, as he was still feeling very badly and was quite unable to keep up with us. From the summit we could see due north, perched on a lofty peak, the Lhakha of Sakya, and to our west were snow-clad peaks of the lofty Perugh mountains.

On the northern slope of the Langbu we found much drifted sand, and a short distance from the foot of the pass we came to the source of the Ge river,57 where we met a party of rice-collectors (dadubpa) on their way to Tashi-rabka with a dozen yaks and some donkeys, there to buy rice from the Wallung traders. While Phurchung talked to one of them, a former acquaintance, I slipped by without attracting their attention; for had they spoken to me, they would certainly have detected my nationality by my appearance and speech.

Proceeding onward, we met other parties of swarthy Tibetans, in which the women were conspicuous by their headdress (patug). Their dirt-covered faces, their white teeth and eyeballs, made them look exceedingly wild. Crossing the rivulet by a bridge made of two stone slabs, the valley broadened as we advanced, till we found ourselves on a plateau several miles broad, where the rivulet turned to the west, to empty probably farther on into the great Arun. Phurchung here pointed out a place where there is a large underground monastery,58 the chief temple (tsugla khang) of which is cut [39]out of the massive rock. There are twenty inmates to this lamasery, and the church furniture and images are said to be of great antiquity.

Fording the little Tibgyu chu, said to rise in the Chabug la, we proceeded in an easterly direction, and passed the little village of Wena, a mile from which stands the village of Chani, where lives the Chyugpo mepang family, or the “rich men who never reply nay.” When travellers passing by this way have asked the rich men (chyugpo59) if there was such and such a thing to be had at their place, they have never replied in the negative. One day, in the month of August, a traveller who had heard the story concerning this family came to test its truth, and asked the housewife to give him a piece of ice, when she at once produced a piece from the butter-cask. On another occasion a traveller asked for a chile pepper in February, and the mistress of the house gave it to him at once.

December 3.—At about a mile from our camp of last night we came to a rivulet some fifteen feet broad, flowing in a north-easterly direction. We selected a shallow part of it, across which Phurchung waded, carrying me on his back. Irrigation ditches led the water of this stream on to the neighbouring barley-fields. We stopped towards 7 o’clock at the camp (dok60) of Pole, situated in the middle of a plain extending from east to west some ten miles, and bounded to the north by the Arun river. There were several sheep-folds with walls of sun-dried bricks six or seven feet high and two feet thick; in the corners of these folds were turret-like houses, in which the shepherds sought shelter from the severity of the weather. Here we hired two yaks for a tanka61 a-piece to carry us to the village of Tebong, about six or seven miles away. This whole plateau was covered with a species of briar, amidst which grew long fine grass, on which cows and jo (half-bred yaks) were feeding, and whence innumerable hares and foxes ran, startled by our approach. Midway between Pole and Tebong, but on the mountain side, lies the village of Mug, with some forty families (mitsang). Before reaching Tebong, [40]which is the first village this way on Tashilhunpo soil, we crossed the dry bed of the Chorten Nyima river, forming the boundary, and which I had already passed over on my first journey to Shigatse in 1879.62 Near here we were overtaken by a violent dust-storm, which hid the whole country from our view and forced us for a while to remain motionless.

Once on Tashilhunpo territory, all my fears of being arrested were over, and I walked on to the village of Tanglung63 with a light heart. An hour’s walk brought us to the door of my old acquaintance, Nabu64 Wanga, who led me with much ceremony into the best room of his home, apologizing for his not being able to lodge me in his chapel, which was filled with carcasses of sheep and goats drying for winter use.

December 4.—Our host appeared early in the morning to inquire what we required in the way of food for our journey, and Ugyen gave him a list of articles, comprising mutton, barley-meal (tsamba65), butter, etc. He also undertook to procure us three ponies, for which I was to pay Rs. 4 each as far as Shigatse. While we were breakfasting a number of old acquaintances came in, bringing me presents of tsamba, mutton, butter, and chang. One man, a doctor (amchi), brought a fox-skin cap of ingenious make, which he offered to sell me. It was so contrived that it protected every part of the head, leaving only the eyes and nose exposed, or it could be turned up and used as an ordinary hat.66

In the evening Delah Tondub, the head of the militia or village police (yulmag67), received an order from Khamba djong, which he brought me to decipher. It was to the effect that he must hold himself and force in readiness to proceed at once to the Lachan boundary, fully equipped with matchlocks, lances, swords, slings, etc., [41]in view of the fact that a “very important European official, deputy of the Lieut.-Governor of Bengal, was on his way to the Tibetan frontier. This information was communicated by the frontier guards, in consequence of which necessary precautions were urgently needed.” I told them that the official referred to was probably Captain Harman of the Survey Department, with whom he was acquainted, having met him the year before at Tangu, near Lachan.

December 5.—Our arrangements being completed and the ponies at the door, we hastened to finish our breakfast. From the sheep-pen close by the house we saw some fifty sheep led to the slaughtering-place behind the village. The butchers mutter some mantras over each one before killing it, and they receive as their perquisite the heads.

Following the same route I had taken in 1879, we left the village of Mende68 on our left, and, crossing several frozen streams, we came to the village of Targye, where we stopped in the house of an old man, who invited us to be his guests in the hope of getting some medicine for dyspepsia from which he was suffering. He put us up in his storehouse, amidst his barley, yak-hair bags, farming implements, etc. He had manufactured some rugs, and I bought one from him for a couple of rupees. The villagers, hearing of my purchase, brought me a number of their choicest carpets, but the price asked was larger than I cared to give.

December 6.—I learnt with pleasure from my host that the Minister of Temporal Affairs (Kyab ving69) of Ulterior Tibet (Tsang) was Phendi Khangsar, to whom I was well known. My host and his wife came and begged some medicine, and I prepared for him an effervescent draught, which the old man swallowed with much difficulty. “Oh, sir,” he exclaimed, “it boiled and foamed even as it ran down my throat; it must be a medicine of wonderful potency! I never took such a drink in my life, nor heard of its like before!” And the spectators all said, in amazement, “This amchi is a miracle-worker (tulpa); his medicine boils in cold water.” And so my fame was noised abroad. [42]

Crossing the Yaru la, we made for Kurma, before reaching which place we experienced some difficulty in crossing the broad bed of the frozen river.70 Near the village we saw in the fields several wild asses (kyang), some wild goats (ragyo), and wild sheep (nao). At Kurma we put up in the house of a doctor, an acquaintance of Phurchung, who had brought him a quantity of medicines the amchi had the year past commissioned him to buy at Darjiling. Our supply of meat being exhausted, Ugyen bought a sheep’s carcass (pagra). When the sheep get very fat, the people, for fear of losing any of the fat by skinning them, roast the whole as they would a pig.71 [43]

December 7.—Leaving Kurma early in the morning, we arrived at Iago72 by 6 p.m., where we got accommodations in the house of a rich farmer, paying him a tanka as room-rent (nala). I had been feeling very badly all day, but Phurchung whispered to me to let no one know I was ill, as sick men are not admitted into people’s dwellings in this country.

December 8.—By 10 a.m. we reached Tamar,73 in the valley of the Re chu, here thickly dotted with hamlets. Numerous flocks of pigeons and swallows were picking worms and grain in the fields, and Ugyen told me that the pigeons were a serious nuisance to the people, for they are not allowed to kill them, animal life being held sacred.

We passed the foot of the hill on which the Regyinpai lamasery74 is situated, and by 2 p.m. came to Labrang dokpa; but finding all the houses closed, we continued on to the Nambu la,75 crossing which we reached the village of Nambu, where we stopped in the house of a friend of Phurchung.

December 9.—We arose by 3.30 in the morning, and put on our best clothes, for to-day we were to enter Tashilhunpo. Travellers were more numerous now; we met several parties of traders with yaks and donkeys or laden sheep going to or coming from Shigatse. The day was cold, and there was a light wind blowing. I alternately rode and walked, and though I was by this time greatly reduced in flesh by the hardships I had had to encounter, I was in high spirits at the success which had so far attended me. Not so Ugyen: he was ill, and fretted fearfully, his appearance was repulsive, and his language to the Tang-lung men, whose ponies we rode, was most abusive, but they bore patiently with him. At 9 o’clock we passed through Chuta, and an hour later came to the village of Jong Luguri,76 where I was [44]most kindly received by my former host of 1879, Lobdon puti. I ate a couple of eggs and drank a few cups of tea; then, reloading our ponies, we paid our bill (jaltse) and set out for Tashilhunpo, where we arrived by half-past four, entering it by the small western entrance marked by two chortens.77 [45]