trade in iron. They work the mines only about three months in the year; and commence digging them in March, after the snow has sufficiently melted; at other times they say the earth falls in, and it is unsafe to work.

27th September.-Proceeded to Rooroo, a fatiguing march of thirteen miles, crossing a high range of mountains. Here we first came upon the Pubur, one of the feeders of the Icus, which falls into the Jumna, and a stream of considerable size. Barometrical observations gave the extreme height of its bed 5100 feet.

Rooroo is situated in Choara, one of the large divisions of Buschur, and the most populous and best cultivated spot I have seen in the hills; the dell is broad, and the ground is well adapted for rice fields, being watered by many cuts from the river, which winds through it. Two marches more, or twenty-six miles, brought me to Jangleeg, the last and highest village in the valley of the Pubur, elevated 9200 feet above the sea. The road latterly was extremely rugged and dangerous; at one time many hundred feet above the river, with a horrid precipice on the right, and, at another, dipping down to the stream, which rushes with violence over the rocks interspersed in its channel. As you advance, the dell in which the Pubur flows becomes gradually more contracted, the mountains assume a more naked and abrupt appearance, and the rapidity and turbulence of the river increase.

From Jangleeg I proceeded ten miles to a hunting place, called Moondar, within two miles of the Brooang Pass, over the great snowy range; the road was good, and lay in a broad grassy glen, between two spurs of the Himalayas, with the Pubur running through it. The soil of this valley is composed of black vegetable mould, which produces endless varieties of alpine plants to the height of 13,000 feet. Belts of birch and pine reach almost the same elevation; beyond which scarcely any thing is seen but patches of brown grass.

The height of my camp, which was pitched beneath an immense projecting granite rock, was 12,800 feet. We left the last cluster of birch trees three miles behind us, so that we had to send back all that distance for firewood. The thermometer was 38° at night, and water froze hard.

Next day, 2d October. We pitched our tent on the crest of the pass, 15,095 feet above the level of the sea. The road was of the worst description, crossing the Pubur, which has its source near this, by an arch of snow of some extent, and then leading over huge detached masses of granite hurled from the peaks above, and piled upon one another in dread

ful confusion, with here and there some snow. The ascent was steep the whole way, and almost the only vegetation we noticed was grass in small tufts, which grew more scanty as we advanced to the pass, where it almost disappeared: it was still seen above, thinly scattered and intermixed with a few mosses. Here I met my brother, who had left Soobathoo some time before me, and travelled by a much more circui

tous route.

We sent most of our servants down about five miles to a more congenial climate, where wood could be procured. The peaks immediately on either side of us were not more than 1000 feet above us, but there are several not very far distant which we could not now see, 18,000 feet high. We were lucky in getting the altitudes and bearings of the principal mountains across the Sutluj, which rear their white heads to the height of 20,000 feet and upwards.

The thermometer in a tent got up so high during the day as 50°, but at 4 p. m. it fell to the freezing point, and at 7 was 8° below it. We sat up till past 10, for the purpose of making astronomical observations, which was cold work, and amused ourselves in smoking dried tobacco, which we found far from unpleasant. Our situation was not the most agreeable, for we had but a small supply of firewood, which was kindled in the middle of the tent, and we were involved in a cloud of smoke, and surrounded by servants, whilst every now and then we were alarmed by the crash of rocks, split by the frost.

We had all severe headaches during the night, owing probably to the rarefaction of the air, but attributed by the natives to a poisonous plant, said to grow most abundantly at the greatest elevations.

This pass separates Choara from Koonawur, another of the grand divisions of the Buschur, which lies on both banks of the Sutluj, extending from Lat. 31° 30' to 32°, and Long. 78° 10' to 78° 45'. It is a secluded, rugged and barren country, seldom exceeding eight miles in breadth. It is terminated on the north and northwest by a lofty chain of mountains, covered with perpetual snow, upwards of 20,000 feet high, which separates it from Ludak: a similar range of the Himalayas, equal in height, bounds it to the southward: on the cast, a pass almost 14,000 feet high divides it from the Chinese dominions; and on the west lies another of the principal divisions of Buschur.

The villages, which are elevated from 8,000 to 12,000 feet above the sea, are very thinly scattered; not more than two or three occur in a stage, and sometimes none at all for several

days. In the summer season, from the reverberation of the solar rays, the heat in the bed of the Sutluj, and other large streams, is oppressive, and quite sufficient to bring to maturity grapes of a delicious flavour, of which raisins, and a spiritous liquor called Rakh, are made.

The

The inhabitants wear a frock of white blanket, often twofold, reaching down to the knees, and having sleeves, a pair of trowsers, and girdle of the same, a cap of black blanket like a bonnet, and shoes, of which the upper part is woollen, and the sole alone of leather. The people are very dark, and extremely dirty, but they seem to enjoy a much greater degree of comfort than any of the other mountaineers we saw. villages are generally large, and the houses spacious, and even elegant. They are built of stone and wood, and either slated or flat roofed; the last is most common. The temples of the Deotas (deities) are magnificent, and adorned with a profusion of ornaments. There are two or three in almost every village; and the various feats ascribed to their gods surpass belief: there is scarcely one of them that has not got the credit of removing some mountain or large rock to make the road passable, &c.

The level spaces of land in Koonawur are few, the crops are extremely poor, and a want of grain pervades the whole country. In time of scarcity, pears, and horse-chesnuts, after being steeped in water, to take away their bitterness, are dried, and ground into flour. There are, however, no marks of poverty, and the natives subsist by exchanging raisins and wool for grain. They have little to do, but look after their vineyards, and attend to their flocks, which in summer are sent to pasturage at some distance from the villages. Bears are very numerous, and commit great ravages. In the grape season, during the whole night several people from every village, together with their dogs, are employed in driving them off.

The dogs are of a large ferocious breed, covered with wool, and extremely averse to strangers, whom they often bite and tear in a most shocking manner. They are commonly chained during the day, otherwise it would be dangerous to approach a village.

The winter is rigorous, and for three months, there is no moving out of the villages from the quantities of snow. During this season, the inhabitants employ themselves in weaving blankets. They early begin to collect their winter-stock of fuel, and food for their cattle, which latter consists chiefly of the leaves of trees, and they pile it upon the tops of their

houses. The Koonawur language, of which we made a collection of near one thousand words, differs much from the Hindoo, most of the substantives ending in ing and ung, and the verbs in mig and nig.

On the 3d October the thermometer was 15° below the freezing point, and the cold intolerable; we therefore waited till two hours after sunrise, and then proceeded to the village of Brooang, distant eight and a half miles.

The road lay over a thick snow-bed for the first mile, and then led through extensive woods of various sorts of trees, amongst which we recognized the hazel, plane, horse-chesnut, &c. &c. It was often rugged and rocky, and there was a steep descent of 7600 feet perpendicular height. On our way down we found black currants and raspberries in the greatest perfection, of which we preserved a large quantity; and on our arrival at camp we feasted on grapes. Brooang is a small village in Tookpa, one of the divisions of Koonawur, under the Wureer Teekumdas. It is situated near the Buspa River, and about two miles from the left bank of the Sutluj.

4th October. We marched to Pooaree, a distance of twelve miles and a half; the road was extremely bad, lying often upon the face of a naked stone inclined to the horizon at a considerable angle, with a precipice of many hundred feet on the outer side. It was no great ascent or descent, but so much caution was necessary to prevent the traveller from slipping off the rocks into the River Sutluj, which lay close upon our left, that the journey took us up twelve hours. Today we crossed the Buspa, a large stream 42 feet broad, whose source is six marches to the southeast of Brooang.

5th October. We proceeded to Rispe, a march of thirteen miles and a half, likewise occupying the whole day. The road, which lay through thin forests of pine, was not so dangerous as yesterday's, but consisted of several steep ascents and descents, upon rocks of crumbling granite, of 2000 feet each. We had a grand view of the Kylas, or Ruldung Mountains, from the large town of Reedung, or Ribe, about three and a half miles, before we reached camp. Imagine to yourself an assemblage of pointed peaks, presenting a vast surface of snow, viewed under an angle of 27°, and at a distance of not more than five miles in a direct line. The height of our station was 8,000 feet, and the Kylas peaks were 12,000 feet higher. At Rispe, we first saw Lamas; and near this place we passed several buildings, from ten to forty feet in length, two broad, and about four high. They are constructed of loose stones, without cement; and upon their tops are nume

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rous pieces of slate, of all shapes and sizes, carved with strange characters: they are called Mane, and are erected over the graves of the Lamas. There are invariably roads on each side of them, and the natives, from some superstitious custom, always leave them on the right hand, and will rather go a round of a quarter of a mile than pass them on the wrong side. 6th October. We marched to Murung, five miles. The road was pretty good along the left bank of the Sutluj, crossing a river named Teedoong, whose source is in the Chinese dominions, four day's journey to the eastward. Murung is a Lama town of considerable size, consisting of seven or eight distinct divisions, and beautifully situated, chiefly upon a southern exposure, in a glen, which forms the greater part of an ellipse. Through it runs a transparent stream, upon the banks of which are extensive vineyards and orchards, abundantly supplied with water by numerous cuts. The dell is encircled by lofty mountains, at an angle of 25° on every side, except to the westward, where it is open towards the Sutluj, on the banks of which is a small fort. The situation is extremely romantic, and the approach to it highly picturesque, leading along a small canal, and through an avenue of apricottrees. Near this place there are a great many piles of stones, with inscriptions; and afterwards we met with them almost at every village until we reached Pangee, on our return, where they end. We also saw a number of temples called Chosten, which are likewise to be found in the vicinity of every Lama habitation; they consist of an inclosure, formed of three walls, with a roof, and open in front. In the inside of these are one or more small white-washed buildings, shaped like urns.

It was our intention to have proceeded farther, but the people told us the next village was at such a distance, and the ascent so fatiguing, with no water on the way, that we could not possibly reach it that night.

7th October.-Marched to Nisung, eight miles. The road commenced with a very tiresome ascent of 5300 feet: here we were delighted to find numerous beds of juniper, and some gooseberries, which were the first we had seen since we left Scotland; we were in great hopes we should have met with heather, but we saw none. At the top of Toongrung Pass, 13,739 feet high, it began to snow, and the thermometer was below the freezing point, so that we were glad to make the best of our way down. The footpath was good, but a steep descent, through juniper and thyme of many kinds, to Nisung, a small Lama village, situated near the Taglakhar, a large stream, which rises in Chinese Tartary, three or four marches