imposing. Of course this does
not apply to all Nepaul; the lower ranges are more woody, the valleys
more sunny and fertile, but there is a lamentable want of water
throughout. I do not remember ever to have seen so much as a horse-pond
in Nepaul, or a single waterfall of any magnitude: the traveller will
therefore probably be disappointed in the scenery, until he reaches the
Chandernagiri, when indeed he must be difficult to please if he is not
fascinated by the view of the valley at his feet, unsurpassed in the
singular character of its beauty, and of the mountains beyond it,
unparalleled by any in the whole world.

We followed the course of the stream down the mountain and along the
valley of Chitlong, until we reached the foot of the Bhimphede pass,
when, striking into the path by which we had entered Nepaul, we toiled up
it, reaching the summit just before sunset, when we were delighted by the
farewell view of the snowy mountains which we obtained at this point. The
upper edge of the curtain of clouds had now become slightly lower,
allowing a single peak to show itself. Gilded by the rays of the
declining sun, it shone out in strong relief, like some unusual
phenomenon; and as we gazed upon it high in the heavens we found it
difficult to believe that it was part of the earth we stood on, and felt
almost inclined to agree with the faithful, who throughout India regard
this heaven-piercing summit as the centre of the universe, around which
the sun, moon, and stars perform their courses, the sacred and mysterious
Mount Menou.

Gradually the bright crimson rays of the setting sun began to fade, and
reminded us that we had to make a long descent ere we could reach the
tent pitched at the bottom for our reception; and our former experience
had taught us that the Bhimphede pass was not the most pleasant road in
the world on which to be benighted. So we hurried on at the risk of our
necks, the loose stones rolling down before us, and rendering our footing
anything but safe in the growing darkness.

When we reached the foot of the mountain our servants met us with torches
and guided us to the tent; and as we spread our dinner upon a rickety old
bedstead, which, wonderful to relate, this out-of-the-way village
supplied, we came to the conclusion that there were many worse lodgings
in the world than the snug little single-poled tent at the old Newar
village of Bhimphede.

CHAPTER XV.

_A dilemma at Bisoleah