1869, the valley of the Hoang-ho is inhabited only for sixty miles to the west of the ferry of Lang-haisa; beyond that point there is no one, and even the footpaths are so overgrown with grass that not a trace of former inhabitants remains. You may occasionally see a ruined village or the skeleton of a Mongol killed by Dungans half devoured by wolves. We were reminded of the words of Humboldt, who remarked that the historian who traces back past ages, and the geographer who travels over the earthy find everywhere the monotonous desolate picture of warring humanity.
We will now return to the narrative of our journey. The day following our crossing the Hoang-ho we were also obliged to cross its arm the Baga-khatun, which is 350 feet wide and 6½ miles distant from the main river. The ferry, called Li-vang-ti, is kept by Chinese, who extorted a good sum for taking us over. We pitched our tent on the other side with the intention of continuing our journey early the following morning. We were, however, quite unexpectedly detained here four days. The reason of this was first a heavy rain, which poured in torrents the whole day, soaking the clayey soil of the valley of the Hoang-ho to such an extent that our camels were quite unable to proceed; then one of our camels recently bought at Bautu strayed, and the Cossack and Mongol were two whole days looking for it.
In the meanwhile we were obliged to wait at the ferry of Li-vang-ti, where our tent was constantly
