quilibrium on this slippery and
rugged surface; it seemed as though, at every moment, an invisible force
was drawing us towards those fathomless gulfs. Lest we should get giddy,
we kept our heads turned towards the mountain, the declivity of which was
sometimes so perpendicular, that it did not even offer a ledge for the
horses to plant their feet on. In such places we passed over large
trunks of trees, supported by piles fixed horizontally in the mountain
side. At the very sight of these frightful bridges we felt a cold
perspiration running from all our limbs. It was essential, however, to
advance, for to return or to dismount were two things beyond possibility.

After having been for two days constantly suspended between life and
death, we at length got clear of this route, the most dreadful and most
dangerous imaginable, and arrived at Alan-To. Every one was rejoiced,
and we congratulated each other on not having fallen into the abyss.
Each recounted, with a sort of feverish excitement, the terrors he had
experienced in the most difficult parts of the passage. The Dheba of
Alan-To, on hearing that no one had perished, expressed his opinion that
the caravan had been unprecedentedly fortunate. Three oxen laden with
baggage had indeed been swallowed up, but these mischances were not worth
talking about. Ly-Kouo-Ngan told us that he had never passed the defile
of Alan-To without witnessing frightful accidents. In his previous
journey, four soldiers had been precipitated from the top of the mountain
with the horses they rode. Every one was able to recount catastrophes,
the mere recital of which made our hair stand on end. They had forborne
to mention them before, for fear of our refusing to continue the journey.
In fact, if we could have seen at Lha-Ssa, the frightful abysses of
Alan-To, it is probable that the ambassador Ki-Chan would scarcely have
succeeded in inducing us to attempt this journey.

From Alan-To, where we changed oulah, we descended through a thick forest
of firs, into a valley where we stopped, after eighty lis march, at a
village called Lang-Ki-Tsoung. This post is one of the most picturesque
and most agreeable we had met throughout our journey. It is situate
amidst the centre of a plain, bounded on all sides by low mountains, the
sides of which are covered with trees of fine growth. The country is
fertile, and the Thibetians of the district seem to cultivate it with
much care. The fields