to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the
opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so
much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to
a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate
once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is
mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which
is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at
any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic
chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the
shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings,
finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for
the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated
corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a
bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I
bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some
other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The
dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according
to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris,
Ghorkas, and others.

[Illustration: _A Nepaulese group_]

Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the
success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of
the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts
to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley
crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language
of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in
view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal.
Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles
claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave
us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with
lantern views.

The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some
courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition
to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw
our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented,
seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions
piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the
last moment, one of the be