some reflections on
the mildness of the air and the unexpected facility of the route. At
length we altogether scorned the anger of the Toad, and every one talked,
hallooed, chattered or sang, without seeming in the least apprehensive of
the fall of snow or hail. Never, perhaps, had the caravan been so noisy
as on this occasion.

The aspect of the plateau of Wa-Ho is extremely melancholy and
monotonous. As far as the eye can reach, nothing is to be seen but snow;
not a single tree, not even a trace of wild animals, interrupts the
monotony of this immense plain. Only, at intervals, you come to a long
pole, blackened by time, which serves to guide the march of caravans.
Throughout this extended mountain travellers do not find even a place to
prepare their tea and take refreshment. Those who have not strength
enough to pass twenty hours without eating or drinking, swallow, as they
go, a few handfuls of snow, and a little tsamba previously prepared.

Throughout the day the sky was pure and serene, not a single cloud
obscuring for a moment the rays of the sun. This excess of fine weather
was to us the source of the greatest suffering; the glare of the snow was
so intensely dazzling, that the hair spectacles did not suffice to keep
our eyes from severe inflammation.

When darkness began to spread over the mountain, we had reached the edge
of the plateau. We descended by a narrow, rugged path, and after a
thousand twistings and turnings in a deep gorge, we reached at length the
stage of Ngenda-Tchai, where we passed the night in intolerable
suffering. Everybody was continually crying and groaning as though his
eyes had been torn out. Next day it was impossible to proceed. The Lama
Dsiamdchang, who knew something of physic, made a general distribution of
medicine and eye-salve, and we all spent the day with our eyes bandaged.

[Picture: Chinese Hand, Foot, Shoes, &c]

Thanks to the drugs of the Lama, the next day we were able to open our
eyes and continue our journey. Three stages separated us from Tsiamdo;
and they were very laborious and annoying stages, for we were obliged to
cross a number of those odious wooden bridges, suspended over torrents,
rivers, and precipices. The recollection of the recent catastrophe at
Kia-Yu-Kiao haunted us incessantly. After having pursued for twenty lis
a narrow path on the rugged banks of a large river called the
Khiang-Tang-Tchou, we at length reached Tsiam