round the packs. Walking behind the ponies, they held to these cords, thus supporting the animals and preventing the loads and clumsy saddles from reversing the process of the previous scramble. Nevertheless, our path was littered with fragments of our baggage. The contrivance was successful, however, and in the main the little steeds picked their way with an easy accuracy through the cool green woods. The mountain side was fragrant with innumerable plants, the bush a tangle of magnificent ferns, trees, and shrubs. Oaks, hawthorn, chestnut, birch and pines grew in crowded splendour; the wild rose, the freckled lily, and a purple orchid embroidered the moss. Beyond the hollows of the hilly woodlands, the crumpled backs of the jagged mountains reared themselves skyward, their proud crests lost in the clouds, soaring silently to a height of five thousand feet. Below in the valley, a wall of granite mountains set up an impenetrable barrier before a noisy river, which until the advent of the rainy season becomes the merest trickle of silver in a lone expanse of river-bed.
Our way lay across the river-bed and thence into the centre of the mountains, a journey of one more day, to The Temple of Eternal Rest. After crossing the Tan-bal-yang Pass we delayed, resting at Kal-kan-i. Starting at daybreak, upon the next morning we moved through the Kak-pi Pass as the sun touched the tops of the mountains, which shut in the narrow valley, across which lay the last stage of the journey. We were nearing the last home of many distressed pilgrims. In a cleft among the mountains the deep curved roofs of many temples might be seen. The air was tremulous with the pleasant jangling of bells, and from a wayside shrine the sweet fumes of incense mingled with the scent of the pines. The calm and seclusion of this
