Among these hills we once more got into stratified rocks, consisting of slates and limestones, in which no fossils could be seen, much shattered and contorted, but on the whole dipping to the north-west. We encamped in a sheltered ravine about a couple of miles from the Karnali, having made a short march in order to give the cattle a little rest, for their feet had suffered a good deal from their late constant marches over the sharp angular fragments of stone that everywhere cover the surface of this region of igneous rock.

The hills close along the south bank of the Karnali west of Khardam seem here generally to dip to the south, but they are of no great height, quite snowless, and generally very uninteresting in their aspect. The flat shelf-like surfaces of the parts of the alluvial valley-floor of Purang that have survived the eroding action of the rivers, were here very distinctly seen. They vary greatly in extent, and it is not possible to doubt that they have been originally continuous with the great plateau up to which we traced them in the next two days of our journey. I observed near the place of our encampment a very granitic or sienitic looking greenstone that I had not seen among the eruptive rocks we had before passed.

September 20. Up the Karnali to Sing-lapcha, 14 miles.-At 8 a.m., thermometer 37°.5. Our route lay over rounded hills of slates and limestones containing no definite signs of fossils, as barren as ever, and altogether very devoid of interest. An occasional patch of greener grass than usual gave our jhobus an opportunity of eating a little, an occupation in which they had been very seldom able to indulge for the last few days, so utterly barren had been the country; and as it turned out, during the remainder of the journey they were to fare still worse. We at length fell into a track said to be that from Kangri to Darma, and followed it into the valley of the Karnali, which river was here as large, or perhaps larger, than any of the streams we had before crossed during our journey in Tibet. Its main supply we could see to be derived from tributaries that rise on the northern slopes of the Indian watershed, in the neighbourhood of Mangshang-Lekh, one of the western passes of Byans. These feeders join the Karnali nearly at right angles just opposite to Sing-lapcha, above which the stream in the main longitudinal valley is a very insignificant one, and no doubt occasionally dry altogether. This circumstance gives additional weight to the views I have before propounded of the nature of the alluvial deposits along the Karnali. For those deposits manifestly follow the great longitudinal hollow which extends from Khardam to Chujia-tol, beyond which they cannot be distinguished from the general mass of the plateau of Guge; and they cannot, therefore, be derived from the present feeders of the river, which enter this valley at right angles at about the middle of its length, and at a point where no change of physical character is to be observed. Sing-lapcha is so called from two or three piles of bits of stick, raised, as I before described, by travellers to form a "lapcha," the ordinary word for such a votive pile, sing or shing being the Tibetan for "wood." These piles, 4 or 5 feet in height, stand by the roadside on a prominent shoulder of mountain, which the track crosses about 500 feet immediately above the river.

In coming into the Karnali valley over the last of the hills we had to cross, we looked upon a flat alluvial terrace some height above the river itself, on which one of those optical illusions, to which I have before alluded, displayed an enchanted picture of a Tibetan encampment. There were the black yak-hair tents, the dark figures of men and cattle, and the white sheep scattered over the grass. But before I had reached the green pasture, the spell was dissolved; the tents were changed into great square blocks of stone, the men and cattle had shrunk into dark rocks and bushes, and where the sheep had been grazing just before, only white quartz boulders were now to be seen. Nor could I help thinking how easily, under the

influence of these or similar delusions, half-savage shepherds might accept as undoubted truths the wildest fables of wizards and enchanters, when in spite of my reason, and in the least romantic mood possible, I could hardly avoid giving a momentary reality to my vision.

As far as Sing-lapcha, hills of considerable height rose immediately from the southern bank of the Karnali, but to the west of this place they are somewhat thrown back, and a plateau, the surface of which seemed, on the whole, pretty level, though considerably intersected by ravines, bordered the Chujia-Tol valley, which, as I have already said, forms the prolongation of that of the Karnali. The foot of the hills on the north of the Karnali still kept close to the river, but their height above it gradually diminished.

The only object now remaining for us to accomplish was to return to Kumaon. We were satisfied that the Tibetan authorities, if by any chance they now discovered us, would simply assist us in carrying out this intention, and our people feeling, that they were by this time beyond the reach of the enemy, had no scruple in going boldly along the valley, and in encamping at a short distance from some Tibetan shepherds about a mile beyond Sing-lapcha.

The food of our Bhotiyas was by this time very nearly exhausted, so an expedition was at once undertaken to try to obtain a fresh supply, and at the same time to endeavour to buy a sheep or two, and, if possible, a goat with milk, the latter being a luxury that we had long been without. We were soon informed that almost all the men had gone from these tents to Darchin, in attendance on the Tibetan Zhipchet, then returning to Lhasa from Gar, which place the Bhotiyas more commonly call Gartok, and that only women and old men were left behind. Sheep were produced, but some difficulty was made about a goat; and we were referred to the headman of the community, whose tent was said to be 3 or 4 miles up the valley, for a supply of grain.

September 21. Sing-lapcha to Camp near Lama Chorten, 14 miles.-At 8 a.m., thermometer 33°; at 9 a.m., thermometer 47°. As we were preparing to start this morning, the flocks belonging to the Huniyas near us came down the valley close past our tents, escorted by a wonderful-looking shepherd dressed in sheepskins, and altogether the most uncivilized-looking creature conceivable. His ideas were evidently rather limited in their range, and though he thought it rather odd, he was perfectly satisfied when he was informed that we were a peculiar sort of Juhari. He only wished to know whether we had been on a religious pilgrimage to Manasarowar, his education not having got so far as to make him aware of the existence even of his " Feling" neighbours. An attempt was made to induce him to let us have a goat. This he totally refused to do, and when our people insisted, he went back, in a violent state of indignation, to his camp to report their misconduct, and, when the matter was at last settled, returned to his flock still quite unpacified. Our road led us right up the valley, and we passed the tents where our sheep had been kept for us, and after a great deal of talk, the purchase of the goat was amicably arranged by our being allowed to carry it off at an exorbitant price.

Chujia-tol, the name of this part of the valley, was the greenest place that we had seen since we left Gyanima. The word tol, which, however, does not appear to be classical Tibetan, is applied, as well as I could make out, not merely to the locality, but to the whole pastoral establishment by which it is occupied, something as the term village designates a settled agricultural community, with their abodes. The population here was not by any means numerous, and we may have passed fifteen or twenty tents at the outside. The people were exclusively nomadic and pastoral, having no homes but their tents, pitching these at such distances from one another that their cattle should have grazing-ground enough, and moving their

encampment to other ground as the grass was eaten up, or as the season required. This community, we were told, went northward in the winter towards the Satlaj, or beyond the lakes, all the country along the Indian watershed and south of the lakes being then uninhabitable from the great depth of the snow. They have a regular routine of grazing-grounds, which they occupy to the exclusion of all other persons, and in which they are held to have a hereditary property.

With the exception of the monasteries about the lakes, Kyunglung and Khardam are the highest permanently inhabited places in this part of Tibet, and they are between 14,000 and 14,500 feet above the sea. The fixed population in these places, other than the monks, is, as usual, agricultural; but the remainder

TIBETAN SHEPHERDS.

of the secular inhabitants of the regions we had traversed are entirely nomadic and pastoral in their habits.

As we passed up the valley we at length reached the tent of the headman, who, with his wife and children, came out to receive us, he presenting the scarf of ceremony, and the lady a bowl of milk. After a short preliminary conversation, carried on through the medium of our Bhotiyas, for I did not understand a word of Tibetan, we proposed to go into his tent, and he was most happy to see us. We were soon joined by some of the élite of the society of Chujia-tol, but, the men being absent, our visitors were nearly all women.

The men wore a loose gown tied round the waist, which, if not black naturally,

had at all events become so by dirt. They had high cheek-bones, oblique eyes, dark complexions, and their hair was worn with long tails, their rough and battered looks showing the hard life they must lead. Among the more prominent of the various parts of their costume and its accessories were a grey felt cap, the edges of which are turned up all round; cloth boots, called lam, of various bright colours, mostly red and green, with leather soles; and a belt, from which is hung a great array of purses, pouches, knives, pipes with apparatus for striking a light, etc. Also should be mentioned the brass box almost invariably hung round their necks or over their shoulders, containing either charms or, maybe, their Penates in the form of a clay figure of Buddh, made at Lhasa and blessed by the great lama. These figures, however great may be their spiritual value, do not bear an extravagantly high price in the worldly market, for I found that a Tibetan was very willing to overcome his scruples and part with his consecrated Buddh for a matter of some four or five rupees.

The women—I cannot call them the fair sex-were gowned and booted much as the men; but they were chiefly conspicuous for their peculiar head-dress, apparently a triangular board covered with cloth, which is fixed on the top of the head, the apex turned behind and prolonged down the back into a tail of leather decorated with a profusion of pieces of brass, turquoises and other stones, and bits of glass, with rows of little silver coins hanging from its edges. The hair under this curious apparatus is plaited in front in many separate little braids, and a grand natural tail hangs down behind, which produces, with the artificial one, an effect which would not a little surprise the coiffeurs of Paris. The ladies' toilet was completed by a tremendous chatelaine, which seemed to contain all conceivable implements ever invented for the use of a Tibetan household.

The tent was made of black yak-hair cloth, 15 or 20 feet long, and half as wide supported on three upright poles connected by a horizontal ridge piece. The ridge was open at the top, all along the middle, to let out the smoke, the fires being arranged between the poles on the ground below. The doorway was at one end, and closed by blankets that hung before it. At the opposite end, on a little sort of table, were set up the household gods, having a number of small brass cups arranged in front of them to contain their food, which is a mixture of butter and meal. The head of a goat lately killed lay in front of the deities for their use, but the eatable legs and shoulders had judiciously been reserved for the mortals. A large assortment of pots and pans, of wood, iron, and copper, stood along the hearth-range, and amongst them I need hardly say was a kettle of tea, with a mess of porridge of buckwheat flour.

Literature and the fine arts appeared not to be altogether neglected in the Tibetan camp; writing materials, ready for the man of business or the scholar, and a stringed instrument of the guitar fashion for the poet or musician, formed part of the furniture of the tent. Outside was a large wooden shovel, used to clear away the snow.

Our host's name was Angchu, an oldish gentleman, and as we sat in his tent, Mr. Winterbottom was engaged in sketching the inmates, while with the help of an interpreter I carried on the conversation. Although head of this community, Angchu said that he had no perquisites in that capacity-nothing, indeed, but the honour of the thing, and that he was only kept in this position for the purpose of giving the authorities some one through whom they could act in their dealings with his people. This statement of Mr. Angchu is, I fear, not strictly correct, but his emoluments, no doubt, are not very great, and there was probably some ground for his grumbling. These nomads appear to pay no regular taxes to the state, but to be generally squeezed. Thus they supply food and carriage to the Lhasan

officers when they move about the country; they are compelled to buy their tea, and the scarfs of ceremony, and perhaps other things of which a Government monopoly is established, from the Tibetan officials, paying for them prices which they aver are three or four times what they ought to be. They also have to give up to the Government one load in ten of the salt or borax which they collect.

They are altogether dependent on barter for their supplies of grain; parties with sheep and goats are sent to the mountains north of Kailas to collect salt and borax, and they exchange these for the cereals which they require.

Their domestic animals comprise sheep, goats, yaks, ponies, and dogs. They make butter and a sort of cheese from the goats and cows' milk. The best butter would be very good if it were not ruined by dirt, and filled with an unlimited quantity of hair. The coarser hair of the goats is used for making ropes; the down under the hair is the shawl wool, or pashm, and its growth is altogether

TENT OF ANGCHU, WITH HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN, RECEIVING OUR VISIT.

dependent on the cold of the climate in which the animal is bred. The sheep produce wool only. The hair of the yaks is employed in making the coarser cloths, such as those used for tents.

The goats are usually branded in the horn. The sheep are marked with red ochre, much as in England, but not quite so neatly. Unlike the Hindu agricultural people, they only keep one bull yak in each village or nomad community, and we saw him on our way up the valley, looking very large, fierce, and shaggy, high in his fore quarters, and low behind-very much resembling the form of the bison. The young bull reserved to replace the old one was also pointed out; he was marked by a tassel fixed in his ear.

We stopped about an hour at the Huniya's tent, during which time sufficient grain had been purchased to last till we fell in with the convoy ordered to meet us at Tazang, where we hoped to arrive in two days' time. Starting once more, we again followed up the valley as before, its depression below the highest level of the alluvial deposits, which here had a considerable development on our right, gradually diminishing, till at length we once more found ourselves on a level with the surface of the extreme south-east angle of the great plateau itself. We encamped not far from Lama Chorten, about 200 feet above the plain, at the foot of a spur from the Indian watershed, which rose steeply on the south above our tent. On the north the hills terminated nearly opposite to us, so that we looked across the plain without interruption for many miles in the direction of the lake of Gyanima.

We had now returned to within a short distance of the Darma Yankti, on which we had encamped some miles lower down on the 11th of the month on our way to Rakas-tal. This river rises from glaciers on the north face of the Himalaya, and the roads from the Kach, Nuye, and Lankpya passes all lead down