employment of scaling mountains.

From Barilang we pursued a tolerably easy route, whence we observed,
rising here and there, the smoke from a few poor Thibetian dwellings,
isolated in the gorges of the mountains. We saw some black tents, and
numerous herds of long-haired oxen. After a journey of 100 lis we
reached Chobando.

Chobando is a small town, the houses and lamaseries of which, painted
with a solution of red ochre, present, in the distance, a singular and
not disagreeable appearance. The town is built on the slope of a
mountain, and is enclosed, in front, by a narrow but deep river, which
you cross on a wooden bridge, that shakes and groans under the feet of
travellers, and seems every moment about to break down. Chobando is the
most important military station you find after quitting Lha-Ri; its
garrison consists of twenty-five soldiers and of an officer bearing the
title of Tsien-Tsoung. This military Mandarin vas an intimate friend of
Ly, the pacificator of kingdoms; they had served together for several
years on the frontiers of Gorkha. We were invited to sup with the
Tsien-Tsoung, who managed to give us, amidst these wild and mountainous
regions, a splendid repast, where were displayed Chinese delicacies of
every description. During supper the two brothers-in-arms enjoyed the
satisfaction of recounting to each other their former adventures.

Just as we were going to bed, two horsemen, having belts adorned with
bells, came into the courtyard of the inn; they stopped for a few
minutes, and then set off again at full gallop. We were informed that it
was the courier-extraordinary, bearing dispatches from the ambassador
Ki-Chan to Peking. He had quitted Lha-Ssa only six days before, so that
he had already travelled more than 2,000 lis (200 leagues). Ordinarily,
the dispatches only occupy thirty days between Lha-Ssa and Peking. This
speed will, doubtless, seem in no way prodigious when compared with that
of the couriers of Europe; but, making allowance for the excessive
difficulties of the journey, it will perhaps be considered surprising.
The express couriers, who carry the mails in Thibet, travel day and
night; they always go in twos, a Chinese soldier and a Thibetian guide.
At about every hundred lis, they find on the road a change of horses, but
the men are not relieved so often. These couriers travel fastened to
their saddles by straps; they are in the habit of observing a day of
rigorous fast b