turbulent waters among rocks and sunken snags of uprooted
trees, escaping from their respective defiles in the rocks, to join in
forming here the river Souron, upon the banks of which stands Karghil. A
little fort, garrisoned by two or three Sikhs, shows its outlines at the
junction of the streams. Provided with a horse, I continued my journey
at break of day, entering now the province of Ladak, or Little Thibet. I
traversed a ricketty bridge, composed--like all the bridges of
Kachmyr--of two long beams, the ends of which were supported upon the
banks and the floor made of a layer of fagots and sticks, which imparted
to the traveller, at least the illusion of a suspension bridge. Soon
afterward I climbed slowly up on a little plateau, which crosses the way
at a distance of two kilometres, to descend into the narrow valley of
Wakkha. Here there are several villages, among which, on the left shore,
is the very picturesque one called Paskium.

Here my feet trod Buddhist ground. The inhabitants are of a very simple
and mild disposition, seemingly ignorant of "quarreling." Women are very
rare among them. Those of them whom I encountered were distinguished
from the women I had hitherto seen in India or Kachmyr, by the air of
gaiety and prosperity apparent in their countenances. How could it be
otherwise, since each woman in this country has, on an average, three to
five husbands, and possesses them in the most legitimate way in the
world. Polyandry flourishes here. However large a family may be, there
is but one woman in it. If the family does not contain already more than
two husbands, a bachelor may share its advantages, for a consideration.
The days sacred to each one of those husbands are determined in advance,
and all acquit themselves of their respective duties and respect each
others' rights. The men generally seem feeble, with bent backs, and do
not live to old age. During my travels in Ladak, I only encountered one
man so old that his hair was white.

From Karghil to the centre of Ladak, the road had a more cheerful aspect
than that I had traversed before reaching Karghil, its prospect being
brightened by a number of little hamlets, but trees and verdure were,
unfortunately, rare.

Twenty miles from Karghil, at the end of the defile formed by the rapid
current of the Wakkha, is a little village called Chargol, in the
centre of which stand three chapels, decorated with lively colors
(_t'horthenes_, to give them the