se three productions, according to Chinese travelers, are
lamas, women and dogs--many of whose streets are lined with houses built
of ox and rams' horns; and a people whose mode of salutation is by
uncovering the head, thrusting out the tongue and scratching the right
ear, and whose manner of disposal of their dead is by cutting the
corpses in pieces and giving them to "sacred dogs," raised and nurtured
in convents for the express purpose--would have to be known only through
the reports of others. The Thibetan traders in Darjeeling reported that
the _Pugla Diwan_ of Sikkim had become a great man in Thibet, and had
seized everything _en route_ from Lhassa during the year, and, having
stored all in huge warehouses, would allow nothing to pass into Sikkim
and Bengal. Previous travelers and missionaries had all of them entered
the country in the disguise of priests or of Chinese or Mogul traders,
having a knowledge of the Thibetan or some allied language; and even
then so greatly fearing detection as to be unable to learn very much of
the condition and capabilities of the land or the habits and usages of
the people. That foreigners should be so rigorously excluded from Thibet
is doubtless owing to Chinese influence--to the fear and jealousy of
British power and possession in the East, the southern boundaries being
rigorously guarded by a _cordon_ of Chinese garrison-stations on the
highlands of the Himalayas.

I might approach nearer, or perhaps ascend the great mountain
Kanchinjinga, which is about fifty miles distant from Darjeeling, though
there are no roads over or around the intervening hills, and the journey
would have to be undertaken on foot, and tents, provisions and a large
retinue of servants would be necessary. And then, at best, but the
snow-limit or a little higher could be reached (hardly two-thirds the
distance to the summit), and therefore the interest of the trip would
scarcely compensate for its hardships. Instead of this, the proprietor
of the hotel proposed a little excursion on horseback into Sikkim, the
country of the Lepchas. It is ten or twelve miles to the bottom of the
valley, and the road (or rather bridle-path) winds around the hills
forward and back, but constantly descending, until at length the Rungeed
River is reached. Some of the precipices were frightful to look over,
and I clutched the reins tightly, braced myself in the saddle, and
almost held my breath as the pony trotted quietly along a