apparel that one who had not before seen them might well be taken aback. From a distance these savages looked as if they wished to imitate the peacock's gaudy plumes in their costume; they had so many beads of glass, coral, amber, and turquoise suspended from their headdress that one could hardly see their faces.
To-day the tailor finished our winter suits, consisting of a Chinese coat (kwa-tse) and trousers (pishu).[1] The lambskin lining in all the suits was quite neatly sewed. I was also furnished with a foxskin (wapa) cap, made after the Lhasa fashion. Provided with these, I felt well equipped for my journey to Dongtse. To make the linings of the coat, I had bought about sixty fine lamb-skins at a cost of Rs. 7.8. These skins appeared to have been obtained from very young lambs, which must have died shortly after birth, for the cost of a single piece of skin was not more than three or four annas, and as the live lambs would fetch at least double that price, it is not likely that they had been killed for their skins. It is, however, not unusual for the shepherds to kill ewes for the soft skin of their unborn lambs, for they fetch a high price. The demand from China for this kind of lambskin has, however, of late years much decreased, and the practice of killing ewes for the purpose of obtaining them is becoming rare.[2]
In the evening Tsering-tashi brought us the passport from the Tondub Khangar, to enable us to bring our things from Lachan to Tashilhunpo. Though it is customary to issue passports in open covers, this one was enclosed in a letter to the Djongpon of Khamba, and we were therefore unable to know its wording, but feared from this fact that some orders, probably to examine closely our packages, were contained in it. The Tung-chen, however, did not apprehend that any trouble would arise from this fact, but we could not share his confidence.
December 24.—In the morning, after washing, I went upstairs to sit in the sun. The cook brought tea and placed the pot on the stove before me. I had emptied three or four cups, warming my numbed hands against the warm cup, when Dungyig Phurching, a copyist, arrived, and was shortly followed by the Khamba Dungyig.[3] I
- ↑ Kwa-tse (or kwa-tzǔ) is a Chinese term for a short riding-jacket. The Tibetans of the better class have adopted this article of Chinese clothing, and also their name for it. I have never heard trousers called anything but ma-yo (smad-gyogs).—(W. R.)
- ↑ Cf. Sam. Turner, op. cit., p. 303.
- ↑ Or drung-yig, "clerk, secretary." Khamba Tungyig means "the clerk from Khams" (or Eastern Tibet).—(W. R.)
