, all that appertains to the
arts and industry. The agricultural products of the country are next to
nothing. They cultivate in the valley some black barley, but scarcely
sufficient for the consumption of the inhabitants. The wealth of the
district is derived from its wool and goat's-hair, out of which they
manufacture large quantities of stuffs. It appears that amid these
frightful hills, there are excellent pastures, where the Thibetians feed
numerous flocks. The lapis lazuli, stag's horn, and rhubarb, are also
materials of a great commercial intercourse with Lha-Ssa and the
provinces of Sse-Tchouen and Yun-Nan. They affirm here, that it is in
the mountains about Ghiamda that the best rhubarb grows. This district
abounds in game of every description. The forest, which we crossed after
leaving Mount Loumma-Ri, was full of partridges, pheasants, and several
varieties of wild fowl. The Thibetians have no idea how to make the best
of these meats, so admired by the gourmands of Europe. They eat them
boiled, and without any kind of seasoning. The Chinese, in this respect,
as in every other, are much more advanced than their neighbours. The
cook of Ly-Kouo-Ngan dressed our venison in a manner that left us nothing
to desire.

The appointed day of departure having arrived, the oulah was ready early
in the morning. The wind had fallen, and the rain had ceased, yet the
weather was by no means fine; a cold and thick fog enveloped the valley,
and intercepted the view of the surrounding mountains. We resolved,
however, to proceed, for the people of the place agreed in saying that,
for the time of year, the weather was all that could be expected. "So
long as you are in the valley," they said, "you will not see very
distinctly, but once on the heights, the obscurity will disappear; as a
general rule, whenever there is a fog in the valley, snow is falling on
the mountains." These words were far from encouraging. We were fain,
however, to be resigned to our position, fortifying ourselves against the
snow, for every one assured us that from Ghiamda to the frontiers of
China, every day, without a single exception, we should have it on our
road. Just as we were mounting, the Dheba of Ghiamda made us a present
of two pairs of spectacles to protect our eyes from the dazzling
whiteness of the snow. We could not, at first, help laughing at the
sight of these optical instruments, so entirely novel to us was their
form.

Th