eautiful to be passed by; besides, the
north wind had risen, and the air became intolerably cold. We pitched
our tent, therefore, in a corner, sheltered by the hills. From the
interior of the tent, our view extended, without obstruction, down the
valley, and we were thus enabled to watch our animals without moving.

After sunset, the violence of the wind increased, and the cold became
more and more intense. We thought it advisable to take some measures of
security. Whilst Samdadchiemba piled up large stones to consolidate the
borders of the tent, we went about the adjacent hills, and made, by aid
of a hatchet, an abundant provision of fuel. As soon as we had taken our
tea and our daily broth, we went to sleep. But sleep did not last long;
the cold became so severe that it soon roused us. "We can't remain so,"
said the Dchiahour; "if we don't want to die of cold on our goatskins, we
must get up and make a large fire." Samdadchiemba's words were full of
sense; it was not advisable to sleep at such a time, and accordingly we
rose, and added to our usual dress the great sheepskin robes that we had
bought at Blue Town.

Our fire of roots and green branches was hardly lighted, when we felt our
eyes as it were calcined by the biting acid influence of a thick smoke,
which filled the tent. We opened the door; but as this gave admission to
the wind, without getting rid of the smoke, we were soon obliged to shut
it again. Samdadchiemba was not in any way molested by the thick smoke,
which stifled us and drew burning tears from our eyes. He laughed
without pity at seeing us crouched by the fire, our heads bending over
our knees, and our faces buried in both hands. "My spiritual fathers,"
he said, "your eyes are large and bright, but they cannot endure a little
smoke; mine are small and ugly, but, never mind, they perform their
service very well." The jests of our camel driver were not much adapted
to cheer us up; we suffered dreadfully. Yet, amid our tribulations, we
saw occasion to feel our happiness to be very great. We could not
reflect without gratitude upon the goodness of Providence, which had led
us to caves, whose great value we now fully appreciated. If we had not
been able to dry our clothes, if we had been surprised by the cold in the
piteous state in which the storm had left us, we certainly could not have
lived long; we should have been frozen with our clothes in one immovable
block.

We did not think