felt better, and during the rest thus obtained 1 liberally applied camphor-tincture over the smarting parts of my hands, which had more or less suffered from the rigorous exercise they had had in the use of the mountaineering staff. In the meantime night fell and, picking our way by the uncertain star-light and the reflexion from the snow, we made a sharp descent of some four miles, at the bottom of which we came upon Sanda, a hamlet of about ten cottages, in one of which we lodged for the night.
Sanda is a literally snow-bound little village, open to communication from the rest of the world only during the three summer months, and that through the precarious mountain path I had come over. I was profoundly astonished to find any people making a permanent abode of such a lonely secluded place, where the vegetation is so poor that the inhabitants have no staple food but tahu, which is a cereal somewhat akin to buckwheat, but much inferior in its dietetic qualities. Nevertheless I must not omit to pay a tribute to the grandeur of the natural scenery, the ever present snow-clad peaks, the gigantic heaps upon heaps of rugged rocks, the serene quietude, all inspiring the mind with awe and soul-lifting thoughts.
My exhaustion had been so great, that I was not able to resume the journey until the 18th, on which day we had again to wade over a treacherous slope, which yearly claimed, as 1 was told, a pilgrim or two as victims to its 'sand avalanche'. We headed north-west, and after passing by a grand ancient forest of fir-trees, and then descending along the bank of a shooting mountain stream, we reached Tashithang (dale of brilliant illumination) at about 11 a. m. In the afternoon we proceeded in the same direction along a path which overlooked now a dangerously abrupt precipice of great depth, then a beautiful valley overgrown with flowering plants and stately trees, the home of ferocious wild animals, the least
