CONTENTS. (continued 2)

Except on our two first days' journey, we had been extremely fortunate in weather since leaving Simla. The day of the 8th was very cloudy and oppressive, and the 9th, on which we remained stationary at Rampur to make arrangements with the Rajah for our further progress through Basehir and Kunawar, was rainy throughout. The rain, however, was light, and did not prevent the Rajah from visiting us in the afternoon, impelled, I suppose, by a desire to see our apparatus and arrangements for travelling. We were lodged in an excellent upper-roomed house of his, overhanging the Sutlej, and not far from his own residence, which lies at the east end of the town, and externally is quite without beauty, presenting to view nothing but a mass of dead walls. The Rajah seldom remains during the hot season at Rampur, as he has a second residence at Serahan, twenty miles up the river, and 7000 feet above the level of the sea, in which he usually spends the summer, though during 1847, for some reason or other, he remained during the greater part of the year at Rampur.

ANCIENT RIVER-CHANNEL. August, 1847.

On the morning of the 18th of August we resumed our journey. Our direction still lay up the valley of the Sutlej, and for the first three miles the road kept parallel to the river, ascending occasionally a few hundred feet to cross spurs, when the immediate margin of the Sutlej was too rocky and precipitous to allow of a passage. This was not unfrequently the case, and after a few miles the river-bank became so rugged and difficult, that the road left it, to ascend a long ridge, descending from the mountain range to the south. The early part of the road, from the many views of the river rushing over its rocky bed, often among immense boulders, and from the general boldness of the mountain scenery, was, though bare of forest, very striking. Frequently the road overhung the river, which ran through a narrow rocky ravine many hundred feet below. At other times, it lay over the surface of the flat platforms which occupied the valley, and in several places curious excavations were noticed on the rocky surface, as if the river had formerly flowed over higher levels. One of these ancient channels was so very remarkable, that it could not be overlooked. The rocky banks on either side were at least a hundred feet apart, and the large water-worn boulders, with occasional rugged pointed rocks which filled the bed, conveyed unmistakeably the conviction that we were walking over an ancient river-bed, though the elevation could not be less than 150 feet above the present level of the river.

ASCENT TOWARDS GAORA. August, 1847.

Three miles from Rampur the road began to ascend a long spur in a south-east direction. After we had ascended a few hundred feet, the course of the river could be seen on the left among precipitous rocks, quite impracticable. The ascent was through a well-cultivated tract, the base of the hill and lower slopes being covered with fields of rice, still only a few inches high. The road ascended rapidly, through villages with numerous fruit-trees. At first, the vegetation continued the same as in the valley, and the hills were bare, except close to the village. Within a thousand feet of the base, the cultivation ceased, and the road entered a wood of scattered firs, mixed after a little with the common oak (Q. incana). At about 5000 feet the steep lateral spur joined the ridge, and the road turned to the eastward, and continued along the steep sides of the ridge, which overhang the valley of the river 2000 feet below. The Sutlej was well seen, running among bare rocky hills, the pine-wood being confined to the upper parts of the steep slopes.

Had we continued our course along this ridge, it would in time have conducted us to the crest of the main range south of the Sutlej, the same which we had left at Nagkanda to descend into the Sutlej valley. It would have been necessary for this purpose to ascend to a height of between 12,000 and 13,000 feet, and to proceed to a considerable distance south; our object, however, being to keep along the river as nearly as possible, it would not have suited our purpose to ascend so far, and the road only left the banks of the Sutlej on account of the difficult nature of the ground in the bottom of the valley. We found, therefore, after continuing a mile or two on the steep slope of the ridge, that the road again began to descend, not exactly towards the Sutlej, but to the bottom of the ravine or dell, by which the spur on which we had ascended was separated from that next in succession to it.

GAORA. August, 1847.

As far as the beginning of the descent the hill-side had been bare, or only clothed with scattered pine-wood, but as soon as the eastern slope was gained, and the descent commenced, the slopes became well wooded with Rhododendron and Oak. The descent was probably not more than 1000 feet, perhaps scarcely so much, as the ravine sloped very abruptly to the Sutlej; on the lower part of the descent, and on the bank of the stream, the wood was principally alder, and a few subtropical grasses and Cyperaceæ marked the commencement of the vegetation of the lower region, while a valerian, a Hieracium, a species of Datisca, and an Arundo or allied grass, were the new species of plants observed; of these, perhaps the Datisca alone markedly indicated an approach to the interior Himalaya. After crossing the ravine the road ascended abruptly up a well-wooded slope, on the northern face of a steep spur, to the village of Gaora, at which, for the first time since leaving Simla, we encamped, no house being available for our accommodation. The morning had been fair, though dull, but soon after our arrival at Gaora it began to rain, and continued to do so all the afternoon.

Gaora is situated, according to Captain Gerard, about 3000 feet above Rampur; but from the appearance of the vegetation, and a comparison with known heights on both hands, we estimated the elevation of our encampment to be not more than 5500 feet, so that probably Captain Gerard's observations refer to some more elevated point.

MANGLÂD VALLEY. August, 1847.

On resuming our journey on the morning of the 11th of August, we continued the ascent of the spur on which the village of Gaora is situated, which is well wooded with the ordinary trees of the temperate zone of the Himalaya. There were a few rice-fields on the hill-side on cleared places above 6000 feet, and some orange-trees in the villages at about the same elevation; from both of which facts, more sun-heat and less rain during summer may be inferred, than in similar elevations on the outer Himalaya, where neither rice nor oranges occur so high. A little way higher up, the forest changed its character, the holly-leaved oak, the deodar, and the spruce, being the common trees, among which the road continued for four or five miles, without much change of level, when the forest ceased, and the road, after continuing for a short time at about the same level, descended abruptly to the ravine of the Manglâd river, a considerable stream, now swollen into a furious torrent, which rushed with impetuosity down its steep rocky bed. A great part of the descent was bare, over crumbling mica-slate rocks.

The vegetation in the bottom of the glen showed, as on former occasions, indications of a low elevation, but presented no novelty, except in the occurrence of Melia Azedarach, apparently wild. I have occasionally noticed this tree in the interior of the Himalaya, always at an elevation of between 4000 and 5000 feet, and invariably in the drier valleys of the mountains, but it is so commonly cultivated in India, that its occurrence can scarcely be regarded as a proof of its being indigenous, especially if we consider that it is a rare circumstance to find it in even an apparently wild state. I do not, however, know that it has a greater claim to be considered a native of any part of the world.

SERAHAN. August, 1847.

The ascent on the east side was long, steep, and fatiguing, up well-wooded slopes. At about 6000 feet, a single tree of Hippophaë conferta, with nearly ripe fruit, was observed near a spring, and a few hundred feet higher the road gained the ridge, and continued for a mile and a half of very gentle ascent, on a broad, nearly level mountain-side, to Serahan, through beautiful forest of oak and pine. Serahan, the summer residence of the Basehir Rajah, is pleasantly situated at an elevation of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, on the northern slope of the mountain range, surrounded on all sides by pine-forest. The village is small, and occupies the lower margin of an open glade of considerable extent, on which there is a good deal of cultivation, of the same plants as I have noted at Kotgarh. The latter part of our march had been through heavy rain, which continued all the evening, and the greater part of the night, but we were fortunate enough to find an empty house, capable of sheltering our servants and baggage, as well as ourselves.

Besides the Hippophaë, which I noted on the ascent from Manglâd, several plants appeared on this day's journey, which served to chronicle a gradual alteration in the flora, notwithstanding that the forest-trees and general character continued generally the same. Of these, the most interesting, by far, was a plant discovered by Mr. Edgeworth, in the same tract of country, and by him described as Oxybaphus Himalayanus, a species of a genus otherwise entirely South American. It is a rank-growing, coarse, herbaceous plant, with tumid joints, and a straggling dichotomous habit, and has small pink or rose-coloured flowers, covered with a viscid exudation. It grows in open pastures and in waste places near villages, and is an abundant species throughout the Kunawar valley.

TRANDA. August, 1847.

On the morning of the 12th of August we marched to Tranda, along the mountain-side, winding a little with its sinuations, and occasionally descending to cross the little streamlets which furrow its side, and separate the lateral ridges from one another. The road lay through beautiful forest, and as the day was fine we obtained at intervals a succession of superb views, of the deep and well-wooded valleys below, and the rugged mountains north of the Sutlej. The forest-trees were still the hoary and holly-leaved oak, with deodar and spruce, though in the more shady woods along the streams, the horse-chesnut, and a fine glaucous-leaved laurel, were common. The shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in general character the same as in the denser woods of Simla, the new species being still quite exceptional.

It soon became necessary to descend, in order to gain a place on the next range in succession to the eastward, so as not to leave the river at too great a distance. Forest continued to the bottom of the descent, which showed no signs of tropical vegetation, and was therefore not to so low a level as those of previous days. The remainder of the day's journey consisted of a succession of ascents and descents, mostly long and fatiguing, with occasionally half a mile nearly level. Many of the steeper parts were very rocky and rugged, so difficult that artificial steps were required to make them practicable, and even with their aid a horse could scarcely pass. The greater part of the road lay through forest, and two considerable streams were crossed besides the one on the early part of the march. From the last of these a long and very laborious ascent led to the crest of the Tranda ridge, on the very top of which we halted for the night in a log hut, built for the accommodation of travellers, in the midst of a fine forest of deodar-trees.

The Tranda ridge has, till near its termination, an elevation of upwards of 8000 feet, and projects boldly forward towards the Sutlej, dipping at last extremely abruptly to the river. The Sutlej is here thrown to the north, in a sharp bend, and runs through a deep gloomy ravine. This ridge, therefore, more lofty and abrupt than any farther west, is considered as the commencement of Kunawar; and the valley to the eastward, as far as the Wangtu bridge, is generally called Lower Kunawar, to distinguish it from the upper and drier parts of that district. The rise of the bed of the river is so gradual, that the transition of climate takes place at first by almost insensible gradations; but as soon as the spurs retain a height of 8000 feet till close to the Sutlej, they exercise a powerful influence upon the climate, and the vegetation and physical aspect of the country change with great rapidity.

CHAPTER III.

Sildang river—Fine grove of Deodars—Nachar—Fruit-trees—Vine seen for first time—Boundaries of Kulu and Kunawar—Cross Sutlej at Wangtu bridge—Vegetation of bare rocky valley—Waterfall—Chegaon—Pinus Gerardiana—Miru—Absence of rain—Alteration of vegetation—Quercus Ilex—Rogi—Willow and Poplar—Chini—Cultivated Plain—Kashbir—Pangi—Camp at upper level of trees—Junipers—Werang Pass—Alpine Vegetation—Birch and Rhododendron—Granite Boulders—Lipa—Alluvial Deposits—Encamp at 12,500 feet—Runang Pass—Vegetation very scanty—Stunted Forest—Sungnam.

SILDANG VALLEY. August, 1847.

The night we spent at Tranda was stormy, with thunder and heavy showers of rain, but the morning of the 13th was bright and beautiful, enabling us to see from our elevated position on the ridge, a single snow-peak, far to the eastward, in Kunawar. At the commencement of the day's march, the road receded from the Sutlej into a deep mountain bay, densely wooded with deodar and pine (Pinus excelsa). A few trees only of spruce and horse-chesnut occurred. After a mile, passing round a projecting spur, a fine view was obtained of the river Sutlej at the bottom of a deep ravine, and of the mountain range north of the river, now in several places covered with heavy snow. A little farther on, the road descended very abruptly along the face of rugged and precipitous rocks, to the valley of the Sildang river, a large stream which was crossed in two branches by two very indifferent wooden bridges. The Sildang valley, at the point where the road crosses it, has been stated by Gerard to be elevated 5800 feet above the level of the sea. It is a larger stream than any of those yet crossed since leaving Rampur, and its ravine is beautifully wooded. The ascent to the east was gentle, through woods of oak and pine, and after rising a few hundred feet, the road continued nearly level for some miles, with the Sutlej in sight below. A large village was passed on the latter part of the march, with many temples evidently of old date, and situated in a grove of very large deodar-trees, several of which were upwards of twenty feet in circumference. One large tree with a flattened trunk, as if formed by the union of two, measured, at five feet from the base, thirty-five and a-half feet round. This grove was evidently of great age, and probably consisted of old trees, at the time the village was founded, and the temples were built under its sacred shade.

Nachar, at which we took up our quarters for the night, is a very large village, by far the most considerable yet passed, with many good houses, much cultivated land, and great numbers of fine fruit-trees. Walnuts, peaches, apricots, and mulberries, were all common; and I saw one grape-vine, which bore a good many bunches of fruit. The crops cultivated were chiefly millet and buckwheat, with a good many fields of Amaranthus and Chenopodium. The fruit-trees were evidently, from their numbers and luxuriance, a very valuable part of the possessions of the inhabitants; and it was very interesting to meet with the vine, though only in small quantity, and evidently not yet in a thoroughly suitable climate. The elevation of the village, which occupied a great extent of the hill-side sloping down towards the Sutlej, now close at hand, was nearly 7000 feet.

EASTERN BOUNDARY OF KULU. August, 1847.

Nearly opposite Nachar, the district of Kunawar, which had hitherto been confined to the south bank of the Sutlej, extends to both sides of the river; the province of Kulu, which had hitherto occupied the northern bank, being bounded on the east by the mountain-chain which separates the waters of the Beas river from those of the Piti, a tributary of the Sutlej. By this very lofty chain, the villages on the north side of the Sutlej, to the east of the point now reached, are entirely cut off from the valley of the Beas, and naturally become connected with the district immediately opposite to them, with which alone they have an easy communication. Kulu, till the campaign of 1846, had belonged to the Punjab; but one of the results of the Sikh war, in that year, was the transfer of that district to British rule, so that the Sutlej, in its lower course, no longer served as a boundary between hostile states. In Kunawar, the north side of the river is the most important, because it is more populous and fertile than the south, not only from its more favourable exposure, but because the chain to the south of the Sutlej continues to increase in elevation as it proceeds eastward, while that on the north becomes gradually lower as it advances towards the confluence of the Sutlej and Piti rivers.

DESCENT TOWARDS THE SUTLEJ. August, 1847.

For this reason the main road or highway through Kunawar crosses to the right bank of the Sutlej, a short way above Nachar. At starting, therefore, on the morning of the 14th of August, we began to descend towards the river. For about a mile and a half the descent was very gentle, through a good deal of cultivation. There were many fruit-trees, but very little natural wood; a few horse-chesnut trees were observed, and occasionally a scattered deodar, spruce, or pine. On the earlier part of the road the pines were P. excelsa, but lower down that tree gave place to P. longifolia. After a mile and a half, the descent became more rapid, over a rocky and bad road, which continued to the bridge, distant three miles from Nachar. On the bare, arid, and rocky hills between Nachar and the river, several very striking novelties were observed in the vegetation; but as the road had for several days been at a higher level, and generally among dense forest, it is not improbable that many of these new plants may occur on the lower parts of the hills, in the immediate vicinity of the river, further to the westward. The new species were in all about six in number, of which three—two species of Daphne and an olive—were very abundant, and therefore prominent features in the appearance of the country.

WANGTU BRIDGE. August, 1847.

At the point where the bridge has been thrown across, the river Sutlej has an elevation, by the determination of Captain Gerard, of 5200 feet above the level of the sea. Its bed and the banks on both sides are very rocky and bare, and the width of the stream not more than seventy feet. The bridge is of that kind called by the mountaineers sanga, which means a wooden bridge or bridge of planks, contrasted with jhula, a rope-bridge. On the left bank the pier of the bridge is formed by an isolated rock, separated from the rocky banks by an ancient bed of the river, now quite dry, but worn smooth by the action of the current. This former channel is stated by Gerard to have been blocked up by a fall of rocks from above; previous to which occurrence, the isolated rock must have stood as an island in the centre of the stream. The construction of the bridge is singular, but simple, and only adapted for very little traffic. Six stout trunks of trees are laid alongside of one another on the pier, so that the end towards the river is a little higher than the other; above these are placed in succession two similar layers of trunks, each projecting several feet beyond the one below it, and the whole of these are kept in position by a substantial stone building, through which the roadway runs. A similar structure on the opposite bank narrows the distance to be spanned, at the same time that it affords support to the central portion of the bridge, which consists of two strong pine-trees fifty feet in length, placed about two feet apart, and supporting stout cross planking. The whole forms a bridge quite strong enough to support foot-passengers or lightly laden horses, the only purpose for which it is required.

WATERFALL. August, 1847.

In spite of the considerable elevation which the Sutlej valley had now acquired, a number of plants of tropical character occurred in the neighbourhood of the Wangtu bridge. These were mostly common grasses and Cyperaceæ, Polycarpæa corymbosa, Achyranthes aspera, and a few other species, all common mountain-plants at low elevations, which here, from the great heat caused by the lessened rain and the concentration of the sun's rays, at the bottom of a deep bare valley, surmounted on both sides by mountains 10,000 feet above its level, enjoy a congenial climate. They are, however, confined to the most exposed places, and to the lower levels only. A few rugged pine-trees are scattered on the steep rocks, both Pinus excelsa, which does not descend quite to the base of the hills, and Pinus longifolia, which has here reached nearly its eastern limits, the elevation of the river-bed soon becoming greater than that at which it will grow. Close to the Wangtu bridge, on the right bank, a considerable stream joins the Sutlej from the north, and is crossed by the road not far from its junction with the great river. The lower part of this tributary exhibits a succession of fine rapids and a waterfall, now much swollen by the melting of the snow; and which, notwithstanding the want of trees and consequent bareness of the accessories, formed a picture such as often greets the eye of the traveller in the alpine districts of Himalaya, but which no amount of repetition renders less grand and magnificent. Captain Gerard has, in his little 'Tour in Kunawar,' described this torrent in strong language, which showed that he felt the beauty of the scene. For this he has been condemned by Jacquemont, who sneeringly says that he describes it "comme si c'était le Niagara," an expression which induced me to turn on the spot to Gerard's book, so that I can testify to the accuracy and absence of exaggeration of his description.

After crossing this stream, the road ascends the spur which runs parallel to it, to an elevation of about 1000 feet above the Sutlej, but only to descend again to its banks, the ascent being caused by the impracticable nature of the rocky banks of the river. The spur was bare of trees, but with scattered brushwood, in which the olive and white Daphne, observed on the descent from Nachar, still abounded, with several other novelties, among which a Clematis, Silene, Stellaria, and Selaginella, all previously-described Kunawar species, were the most remarkable. Several of the grasses of the plains of India, such as a Panicum (perhaps P. paludosum), Eleusine Indica, and Heteropogon contortus, occurred on the hot dry pastures among the rocks, up to above 6000 feet. The rock was everywhere gneiss, but varied much in appearance and texture, and contained many granite veins.

CHEGAON. August, 1847.

After regaining the river, the road ran along its bank, or on low spurs not more than a few hundred feet above it, through a dry treeless tract, till about two miles from the end of the day's journey, when a long steep ascent led to Chegaon, a large village situated on a stream with steep rocky banks, the houses as usual being surrounded with fruit-trees. Here we encamped after a march of at least fourteen miles, at an elevation of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, or nearly 1800 feet above the valley of the Sutlej.

GERARD'S PINE. August, 1847.

Next day our journey was a short one, not more than five and a half miles, to the village of Miru. It began by a rapid ascent for two miles to the crest of the ridge, advancing all the time towards the Sutlej, which wound round the base of the steep spur 2000 feet below. The ascent was bare (as the slopes facing the west generally are), and the hill-side almost precipitous; but as soon as the crest of the ridge, at an elevation of about 8000 feet, had been gained, scattered trees appeared of a species not previously seen. This was P. Gerardiana, the pine of Kunawar and the other dry regions of the Western Himalaya, from the back parts of Garhwal (where it has been seen by Dr. Jameson) to the valleys of the Upper Chenab. The first trees met with were small, and in appearance quite distinct from P. longifolia and excelsa, being more compact, with much shorter leaves and a very peculiar bark, falling off in large patches, so as to leave the trunk nearly smooth.

MIRU. August, 1847.

Beyond the crest of the ridge, from which the view into the Sutlej valley, and towards the mountains across the river, was superb, the road on the east slope again receded from the river, entering an oak-wood, through which it continued nearly level for more than a mile, but soon began to descend slightly towards the stream, which ran at the bottom of a deep ravine, down to which the road plunged abruptly, to ascend again as steeply on the other side; after which a steep ascent of upwards of a mile led to Miru, a large village in which we encamped, at an elevation of 8500 feet.

At this delightful elevation, in a climate where the periodical rains of the Himalaya are scarcely felt, embosomed in extensive orchards of luxuriant fruit-trees, and facing the south, so that it has the full benefit of the sun's rays to mature its grain-crops, Miru is one of the most delightful villages of Kunawar, being rivalled only by Rogi and Chini, beyond which the climate becomes too arid for beauty. The crops at Miru, both of grain and fruit, were most luxuriant, and the vine thrives to perfection. The principal vineyards, however, are lower down, at elevations of between 6000 and 7000 feet, at which level the sun has more power in autumn to ripen the grape.

The scenery around Miru is indescribably beautiful, as it almost overhangs the Sutlej 3000 feet below, while beyond the river the mountain-slopes are densely wooded, yet often rocky and with every variation of form. A single peak, still streaked with snow, but too steep for much to lie, rises almost due opposite; behind which the summits of the chain south of the Sutlej rise to an elevation of upwards of 18,000 feet.

At Miru we found that we had completely left the rainy region of the mountains, and henceforward the weather continued beautiful. The change had been very gradual. At Serahan we had heavy rain; a rainy night at Tranda was succeeded by a brilliant day, till the afternoon, when it rained smartly for an hour. The next day was again fine, and at Miru, though the afternoon was cloudy, and a heavy storm was visible among the mountains across the Sutlej, only a few drops of rain fell. The transition from a rainy to a dry climate had thus been apparently very sudden, four days having brought us from Serahan, where the periodical rains were falling heavily, to a place at which there were only light showers. This was in part, of course, accident. Fine weather may, perhaps, have set-in in the interval in all parts of the mountains. In very rainy seasons, when the rain-fall in the outer Himalaya is considerably above the mean, heavy showers extend into Kunawar, at least as far as Chini; and careful meteorological observations would probably show that the transition of climate is a very gradual one, the snowy mountains and the great spurs which run towards the Sutlej collecting and condensing, as they increase in elevation, more and more of the moisture which is brought by the south-east winds from the Bay of Bengal.

VEGETATION OF KUNAWAR. August, 1847.

Jacquemont, in the valuable journal of his tour in India, which has been published by the French Government, has observed that the passage of the ridge between Chegaon and Miru may be considered as producing a marked change in the vegetation. This change, as we have seen during our journey up the Sutlej, had long been going on, though very gradually and almost insensibly. Several circumstances combine to make the transition appear at this point more sudden than a careful calculation of the number of new species will prove to be the case. It is the first wooded ridge on the north side of the Sutlej over which the road passes, and it rises higher than any other part of the route east of Nagkanda. A considerable effect is also produced by several new arboreous or shrubby species making their appearance, as well as by the fact that the new forms, which day by day have insensibly been increasing in number, have at last begun to form a prominent feature in the country.

I find among my notes a list of all the species of plants which came under my observation during the walk from Chegaon to Miru. Their number is rather above 150 species, of which number about 120 are common Simla plants. Of the remaining thirty, eleven were quite new to me, ten had occurred only the day before, and nine had been common for some days past. These numbers convey a very different idea of the amount of change from that produced at the time, but the latter must be admitted to be very fallacious, the eye of the botanist being so naturally attracted by novelty, to the utter disregard of what is common, that it is difficult to preserve the degree of attention requisite to observe properly.

QUERCUS ILEX. August, 1847.

Pinus Gerardiana produces a very large cone, containing, like the stone-pine of Europe, eatable nuts, of an elongated oblong form, which, when roasted like chesnuts, are agreeable to the taste, though with a little flavour of turpentine. This tree has been repeatedly tried in the rainy districts of the Himalaya, but will not succeed, a dry climate being essential to it. Besides Gerard's pine, a new species of oak was the most conspicuous tree, forming a thick dry wood on western exposures. This oak, the only species of the genus which grows in the interior of Kunawar, is the Quercus Ilex. The specimens which I collected quite agree with the European plant, and belong to that form of the evergreen oak, which has been called Q. Ballota. The same tree is common in some parts of Affghanistan, where it is called Balút. A small graceful ash was also common, and species of Stellaria, Lychnis, Dianthus, Herniaria, Cruciferæ, Senecio, and Valeriana, which, with several Chenopodiaceæ and Artemisiæ, were the new species observed.

VIEW OF THE SUTLEJ. August, 1847.

On the morning of the 16th of August, we proceeded to Rogi, eight and a half miles. On leaving Miru the road at first ascended gradually through a pretty wood of deodar and Gerard's pine. The common pear-tree of the Himalaya, and many of the more ordinary Simla shrubs, species of Desmodium, Indigofera, Spiræa, Buddleia, and Plectranthus, were common under the shade of the pine-forest. As the elevation increased, the trees gradually diminished in number, and the road continued to rise along the side of a rocky hill, with only a few scattered deodars. A very pretty reach of the Sutlej now came into sight. The river was broader than usual, and seemed to flow with a gentle stream along an even bed, without interruption from rocks. Opposite the junction of the Miru tributary, which was in sight at the end of the reach, the Sutlej was particularly wide, and its channel was divided into several branches, which enclosed a number of gravelly islands, immediately beyond which the stream again contracted in width, and resumed its usual rocky character.

From the top of the steep ascent, which must have exceeded 9000 feet in elevation, the road continued along the side of the hill, without much change of level. The slopes were nearly bare, a few trees of the deodar and Gerard's pine only occurring occasionally. The latter tree was more common, and larger than the day before. It is a compact small tree, with much-twisted ascending branches, and a mottled grey bark, quite smooth from the decortication of the outer layers. It bore abundance of large pendulous cones, the size of a small pine-apple, still quite green.

BURANG PASS. August, 1847.

A little more than two miles from Miru, the road descended to pass a stream, which was crossed in two branches. Immediately afterwards another long ascent commenced, at first steep and bare, with a western exposure, then more gradual through an open wood of deodar and Pinus excelsa. The highest elevation attained was almost 11,000 feet, and close to the summit a most superb view was seen to the south. The valley of the Sutlej was not in sight, but the whole course of the Baspa, except its junction with the Sutlej, and a great extent of fine snowy range beyond, were beautifully seen. The Burang or Borendo pass, elevated 16,000 feet, which leads from the Baspa valley to the upper part of the Pabar or Tons river, a branch of the Jumna, was very conspicuous, with many large patches of grey dirty-looking snow on the hills near it, but its summit seemingly bare. At the highest elevation attained the face of the hill was a mass of precipitous rocks. A fine peak, which had long been visible across the Sutlej, was now almost opposite. This mountain, the termination of the range to the east of the Baspa river, when viewed from the west and north-west, has the appearance of a vast precipice, rocky and bare of trees, commencing within little more than a thousand feet of the Sutlej. The north-east face, which comes into view for the first time from the heights above Miru, is covered throughout with magnificent forest, rising to an elevation considerably higher than that at which I stood.

VEGETATION. August, 1847.

The elevation we had now attained was higher than any previous part of our journey, being 200 feet above the peak of Hattu. A cold westerly wind was blowing up the valley of the Sutlej, evidently bringing a good deal of moisture along with it, for thin wreaths of mist were occasionally condensed, for a few minutes obscuring the distant view, and then melting again into transparent vapour. The vegetation was less different from that below, than I had expected, and much more luxuriant than I could have supposed, with nothing of an alpine character. Many of the species were identical with those of Nagkanda and the crest of Hattu; but there was no bamboo, nor any of the Acanthaceæ, so common in the more shady and humid forest further east. Balsams, however, were abundant and large, Potentillæ, Salvia nubicola, and Nepetæ, Polygona, Achilleæ, Gnaphalia, and several species of Pedicularis and Ophelia, formed a thick and rank growth. The most remarkable forms observed were Astragaline, of which several species, one a spinous Caragana, were abundant. A pretty little Veronica and Bupleurum, and several new Cichoraceæ, were also collected, as well as an Orobanche, parasitical upon the roots of the common thyme (Thymus Serpyllum).

ROGI. August, 1847.

From the crest, the remainder of the road consists of a succession of short ascents and descents, along the face of a very rocky hill, till within a mile of Rogi, when it descends very abruptly down the side of a rugged ravine to that village, which, though elevated 9000 feet, lies low down on the mountain-side, and has the appearance of being in a hollow. At Rogi we found the grapes quite ripe, and extremely abundant, but all from vineyards at lower levels. The commonest grape is globular, and of a deep, nearly black colour; but many varieties are cultivated. The apricots were also ripe, and had been gathered from the trees. The flat tops of the houses were now covered with them, drying in the sun. They are split up the middle and dried, the stones being taken out. In this state they keep well, and form a considerable article of export to India. Peach and walnut trees are also common at Rogi, and I saw a few apple-trees. A species of willow, which, in shape of leaf and general appearance, closely resembles a common English willow (Salix alba), is commonly planted along with a glabrous poplar, a small, rather spreading tree, which is frequent throughout Tibet, and seems to be the balsam poplar of Siberia and North America. The English henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) abounds in waste places. This also is a common Tibetan plant, and extends into the drier valleys of the Himalaya, such as Kunawar and Kashmir, but not into the outer mountains, where the periodical rains are heavy.

On the 17th of August we proceeded to Pangi, nine miles farther, passing on the road the village of Chini, the largest inhabited place and most fertile tract of Kunawar, of which it may therefore be considered the capital. From Rogi we had to make a considerable ascent to regain the road, that village lying lower than the direct route from Miru. The ascent lay first through the cultivated lands of the village, and afterwards through open wood. After regaining the road, the ascent continued through a gloomy forest of large deodar-trees for about a mile, terminating at about 10,000 feet of elevation, at which height, turning round a corner on the crest of the ridge, we found ourselves on the upper part of a precipitous cliff, which descends sheer down to the Sutlej. Unfortunately the morning was very misty, a dense fog, condensed from the steadily blowing west wind, enveloping everything, till after ten o'clock, by which time we had long passed the precipitous part of the road. We were told, however, that the cliff was absolutely impracticable below, and, indeed, even where we passed, no little engineering skill was displayed, as the road led along the face of an absolute precipice, on ledges scarcely three feet broad, or just as often over wooden planking, supported at intervals by large upright pieces of timber, whose resting-places were invisible in the dense mist by which we were surrounded.

CHINI. August, 1847.

As soon as this rocky projection was passed, the road descended rapidly, but over good level ground for half a mile, through a forest of deodar, in which some of the trees were of large size, one of them measuring nineteen feet eight inches in circumference. At the bottom of this descent, after passing a projecting rocky ridge, the village of Chini came in sight, straggling along the side of a sloping hill. Chini occupies the most level, and therefore the most fertile, valley in Kunawar. The village is prettily situated among deodar-trees, while below, and on either side of it, the slopes are disposed in a succession of terraces, some of them of considerable extent, richly cultivated with wheat, barley, and buckwheat. Through this fertile tract, the road was quite level, winding among the stone enclosures of the fields, and often bordered on both sides by grassy pastures, or patches of beautiful green turf, where the little rills, which served to irrigate the fields, had overflowed their banks, and converted the flat land into swampy meadows. Near Chini, we passed a single vineyard of small extent, at an elevation of 7000 feet, the fruit still quite unripe, though for several days we had been plentifully supplied with ripe grapes from the lower vineyards. The vines are supported by erect poles, about four feet high, placed about three feet apart, and connected by horizontal ones laid across them, on which the vines twine.

KASHBIR. August, 1847.

A little further we passed the small village of Kashbir, consisting of two or three houses only; beyond which a pleasant forest of deodar and Gerard's pine was entered, quite dry, and almost devoid of undergrowth; a few bushes of Daphne, occasionally a small ash-tree, two or three stunted oaks, and quantities of withered grass and dried-up Artemisia, being the only plants observed. Everything looked arid, notwithstanding the eastern exposure, and showed strikingly the rapid change of climate which was taking place. Some of the trees of Pinus Gerardiana, which seemed to thrive more in this arid wood than further west, were between fifty and sixty feet in height, and one of the largest of them which I noticed was nearly twelve feet in circumference. Through this forest the road continued nearly level, till it reached a ravine, on the opposite bank of which was situated the village of Pangi. A very steep descent of half a mile brought us to the stream; and an ascent of more than a mile, in the course of which we rose about 1000 feet vertically, terminated the day's journey. Pangi is a large village, 9000 feet above the level of the sea, with much cultivation and magnificent orchards of apricots, peaches, and walnuts.

PANGI. August, 1847.

From Chegaon to Pangi we had passed through the finest and most fertile part of Kunawar, which is, however, by no means confined to the north bank of the Sutlej; many large villages having been seen on the opposite side of the valley, with almost as much cultivation as those through which we had passed. The communication across the Sutlej is kept up by paths which lead through the lower cultivation and vineyards to the bank of the river, which is spanned in several places by rope-bridges, one of which only, we saw at a distance. During these three days' journey, the weather was most beautiful, and we could never sufficiently admire the ever-changing beauties of the scenery, which, probably, for variety and magnificence, is nowhere surpassed. The great peak of Raldang, a culminating point of the south Sutlej Himalaya, lies nearly opposite to Chini, and, from a great part of the Kunawar valley, is a prominent feature from almost every point of view. It forms a rugged rocky mass, and the ravines on its slopes are filled with large masses of snow, the lowest beds at this season of a dirty grey colour, and evidently still rapidly receding under the influence of the powerful autumn sun. No glaciers were anywhere in sight.

We were now about to enter upon a very troublesome part of our journey, the crossing of the various ridges which are given off by the mountain range north of the Sutlej, at the great bend of that river where it is joined by the almost equally large Piti river, from the north. These long ranges, given off by an axis 18,000 feet in height, slope at first gently towards these rivers, but at last dip extremely abruptly into the enormous ravine, at the bottom of which the Piti and Sutlej rivers run. Occasionally a rugged and difficult footpath may be found to lead among these precipices, by frequent steep ascents and descents, at no great distance above the river. These paths are always most laborious, and often very dangerous, and the usual road into the valley of the Piti river leads across the higher part of all these ridges, where they are no longer precipitous, but slope at a gentle inclination.

ROCKS OF KUNAWAR. August, 1847.

During the journey from Simla, I had been able to acquire very little information regarding the geology of the valley of the Sutlej; the quantity of forest, and the rapidity with which we travelled, being unfavourable to the determination of the nature of the rocks. In the earlier part of our journey argillaceous schist, often highly micaceous, predominated. In Kunawar, from Wangtu eastward, gneiss and mica-schist were almost the only rocks which I observed. These appeared to alternate again and again as we advanced, but I obtained no certainty regarding their relative position. Veins of granite occurred occasionally in the gneiss, especially at Wangtu, and probably, from the number of boulders, the axis of the range north of the Sutlej is composed of granite.

Behind Pangi is the Werang ridge, crossed by the pass of that name at a point where its height is 13,200 feet above the sea. This ridge, as will be seen by the map, separates the valley east of Pangi from that of Lipa, the next in succession to the eastward, through which a large tributary flows to join the Sutlej. From Pangi to Lipa, the distance, though considerable, is not too much for an active man to accomplish in one day. It would, however, have been a very long march, allowing of no delay on the way, or on the top of the pass. We therefore divided the distance into two days' journey, ascending on the 18th of August to the upper limit of tree vegetation on the west side of the ridge, and leaving the remainder of the ascent and the whole descent for the next day.

ASCENT TOWARDS THE WERANG PASS. August, 1847.

At daybreak we were on foot, preparing for the ascent. The morning was, as usual for some days past, thickly foggy, and a heavy dew had fallen during the night. At starting we ascended gently through a dry pine-wood, towards the face of the mountain ridge of which Pangi occupies the western slope. This ridge, like that above Rogi, on the previous day's journey, is very precipitous towards the Sutlej; and the road leads among rocks, and sometimes over planks of wood, ascending gradually as we advanced. After about a mile and a half, rounding the most projecting part of the ridge, we began to recede from the Sutlej on the eastern slope of the range, along the western side of a beautifully wooded open valley, at the bottom of which ran a large rapid stream, evidently descending from snow. Without descending at all, we continued to advance for a mile and a half through fine forest, till we nearly met the stream, which we crossed after a slight abrupt descent. Immediately after crossing, a steep fatiguing ascent of not less than three miles commenced, continuing, with scarcely any intermission, till we reached the spot selected for our encampment, inclining all the way in the direction of the course of the stream, and therefore towards the Sutlej; so that when we stopped, we almost overlooked that river, and had a fine view of the peak of Raldang, covered with a dazzling coat of fresh snow.

The forest at the base of this ascent was principally composed of deodar and Gerard's pine. The former continued abundant till within a quarter of a mile of the top, when it suddenly disappeared. Pinus Gerardiana gradually diminished in number during the ascent, and at last disappeared about the same time as the deodar. Pinus excelsa was not seen at the bottom, and was scarce on the earlier part of the ascent, but became more abundant as we increased our elevation, and was the only tree seen round our encampment. At this point the trees were straggling and distant, but very tall and luxuriant, being well sheltered by rocks. Above our encampment, which was, according to Captain Strachey's barometer, 11,800 feet, there were only a very few stunted trees on a rocky ridge behind. Excepting in the occurrence of a few new species of Astragalus and Artemisia, now quite typical forms, the vegetation during the greater part of the ascent was the same as on the higher levels east of Miru, and it was only above 11,000 feet that any considerable change was observed. Here three species of juniper made their appearance, all stunted bushes, though one of them was J. excelsa, which, in more favourable circumstances, grows to a small tree. The second species was J. squamosa, a depressed shrub, with rigid twisted branches, and the third was undistinguishable from the common juniper of Europe. A thorny species of Ribes, very like the common gooseberry, a strongly scented Labiate, Dictamnus Himalayanus, several Compositæ, one of which was a large-flowered thistle, and European-looking Junci and grasses, were all observed above 11,000 feet. A beautiful Rose (R. Webbiana) was common all the way from the stream.

During the ascent, after crossing the ravine, the rock was throughout gneiss, passing sometimes into a curious dark slaty rock. It was often very fine-grained; and in one place a granite vein was observed, entirely without stratification, and about a foot thick. Throughout the ascent the surface was strewed with erratic blocks of granite, evidently transported from a distance.

The slope below our camp, for several hundred feet, was cultivated with barley, but the crops were indifferent. Lower down, the mountain-side was too steep to admit of tillage. There were no houses, the fields being the property of the inhabitants of a village a long way below, to the east of Pangi.

The morning of the 19th, before sunrise, was a good deal clearer than the two last had been, but mist began to collect soon after sunrise, and did not entirely disappear for about two hours. Immediately after starting, the last trees of Pinus excelsa were left behind, and the ascent to the crest of the pass was gentle, over rough stony ground, covered with tufts of juniper, a shrubby Artemisia, and Pteris aquilina. The pass, which has an elevation of 13,200 feet, occupies a low part of the ridge, the slope to the left descending gently, but rising again into a sharp rocky peak, five or six hundred feet higher. The crest of the pass is a vast mass of loose rocks, and the slopes of the hill on the right are likewise covered with a mass of fragments. These angular boulders are all granite, none of which occurs in situ; the rocks throughout the ascent, so far as I could observe, being gneiss and mica-slate, the latter in one place containing large crystals of cyanite in great abundance.

In the crevices of the loose stones which covered the pass, a very luxuriant vegetation was found; the same plants grew on the hill to the right, and were especially abundant among its rocky recesses. The forms were, for the first time on our journey, quite alpine, very few of the plants being even shrubby, while the great majority were small herbs. A willow, a very small Rhododendron, and Andromeda fastigiata, were almost the only shrubby plants, and the majority of forms were those common on the Alps of Europe, and comprised species of Astragalus, Stellaria, Anemone, Ranunculus, Meconopsis, Saxifraga, Sedum, several Umbelliferæ, Pedicularis, Gentiana, Gnaphalium, Dolomiæa, Saussurea, Artemisia, Ligularia, Morina, Galium, Valeriana, and many others. I added to my collection in all about thirty new species in a very short time. I had, however, never before been at so great an elevation in the Himalaya, so that almost every plant I met was new to me.

The view from the top of the pass was only remarkable for its barrenness. In the direction we had ascended, the prospect was not striking; and to the north-east, the valley in advance and hills beyond were almost bare, scattered bushes and very little forest being visible. The wind blew over the pass from the Indian side, and continued throughout the day to blow on our backs strongly as we descended.

DESCENT FROM THE WERANG PASS. August, 1847.

From the crest of the pass, the descent to Lipa was long and steep, the distance being about five miles. At about 500 feet or rather more (of perpendicular height) below the pass, the first tree, a large birch, stood quite alone, with a stout erect trunk. A little further down, a small grove of the same trees was passed, in which every individual had its trunk bent in the direction of the slope, probably by the weight of the winter's snow. No birches had been seen on the south face of the pass, nor did the dwarf Rhododendron and little Andromeda appear till the summit had been gained, though they were abundant on the northern face. Rhododendron campanulatum was the next plant observed, forming bushes four or five feet in height, and growing in large green patches, along with the willow, which I had found on the top, and the same rose common on the southern side. About 1200 feet below the summit, that is, about 12,000 feet above the sea, pine-trees commenced—Pinus excelsa and Picea making their appearance together, the deodar not till a considerably lower level had been reached. The trees of silver fir were small, with smaller and shorter leaves than the common tree of the forests in the outer Himalaya, and were therefore the true Picea Webbiana of Royle, the more common long-leaved form being the Picea Pindrow of that author[5].

At an elevation of 11,000 feet, at a rough estimate, we passed the first deodars, and at the same height cultivation commenced. The first fields were wheat, now nearly ripe. With the cultivation many plants of lower elevation began to appear, which had disappeared on the upper part of the mountain, but many were missed which had been common, and the general aspect of the vegetation was strikingly altered, the diminution affecting at once the number, the abundance, and the luxuriance of the plants. Juniper was frequent till some time after the first corn-fields were passed, and Gerard's pine was common on the lower part of the descent. Throughout the whole distance from the crest to the Lipa stream, the road lay along a ravine, which was very rough and uneven, and covered with numerous and often very large boulders of granite[6] scattered irregularly over the surface of the valley. Towards the end of the day's march, we reached the Lipa stream, which was of large size; and we continued along its right bank, through a dry fir-wood, till close to the village, when we crossed by a substantial wooden bridge to enter Lipa, which is situate on a flattish piece of ground on the left bank of the stream, and very little above its level. It is a small village, with some cultivation, and a rather odd-looking little temple, close to which are two fine trees of Juniperus excelsa, the sacred juniper of the Kunawarees and Tibetans. We were accommodated with a room close to the temple, which afforded us sufficiently comfortable quarters.

At the back of the village a thick bank of alluvial clay was observed resting on the rocks behind, and vast masses of the same extended up the valley for a considerable distance. This was the first occurrence of a very common feature of Tibetan valleys, so common as to be almost universal; and as I shall have many opportunities of referring to it again, and shall find it necessary to try to give some explanation, or rather to attempt some conjectures as to its cause, I shall only here pause to observe that the first time of its occurrence coincided with the first entrance into an extremely dry climate; the passage of the Werang ridge having effected a greater change in the aspect of the country than had been seen during very many previous days—the change from luxuriant forest, not indeed to treelessness, but to thin and stunted woods.

LIPA. August, 1847.

In the valley of Lipa I met with a species of caper, apparently the same which I had collected at Rampur on the Sutlej, on hot rocky places close to the river, but which had not been met with in the intermediate parts of the journey. This little prickly shrub I afterwards found to be a common Tibetan plant, which (like most of its tribe) prefers the hottest and driest exposures, expanding its large white blossoms on dry stony ground, or among rocks where hardly any other plant will vegetate.

Lipa is situated at no great distance from the Sutlej, at an elevation of 8000 feet above the level of the sea. The next range to the eastward is that of Runang, separating the Lipa valley from that of the Ruskalan, on which is situated the village of Sungnam. As in the former instance, we divided the passage into two days' journey, encamping on the 20th of August at an elevation of 12,500 feet. The road began to ascend as soon as we left Lipa. At first we took the direction of the stream, gradually rising along the face of a rocky hill composed of a dark clay-slate, which had now taken the place of the gneiss of the lower part of the Sutlej; but turning to the left, to ascend the ridge, as soon as its crest had been gained. The surface was everywhere barren and dried up. A few scattered pine trees occurred at intervals, but nothing approaching to forest, and the parched stony ground was quite destitute of any covering of turf or of herbaceous vegetation in sufficient quantity to attract the notice of the general observer. The ascent on the ridge was steep and uninterrupted; but as the general direction of the day's journey was down the range, or towards the Sutlej, we had to pass from one ridge to the next in succession, across the ravine by which the two were separated. Here the road was nearly level, and took a long curve in the receding hollow of the hill, turning round a belt of green which occupied the middle of the hollow.

On the left hand, above the road, there was not a trace of verdure in the ravine; but just below the road a small spring burst out from the stony ground. For three or four yards the banks of the little streamlet were quite bare, but at about that distance from its source they were fringed with luxuriant marsh plants, Veronica Beccabunga and Anagallis, rushes, and several kinds of grasses, which gradually increased in abundance. Within a hundred yards of its origin a thicket of willows bordered the stream, and a rich vegetation grew under their shade. From this it would appear that the barrenness of the country cannot be ascribed to any fault of temperature or of altitude, but solely to the deficiency of moisture.

ASCENT TOWARDS THE RUNANG PASS. August, 1847.

On the next ridge beyond this little green spot, the ascent continued steep, over loose shingly soil, among scattered trees of deodar, and occasionally a fine tree of Pinus Gerardiana; a spinous Astragalus, and several species of Artemisia, formed almost all the scanty vegetation. Higher up there was, in one place, a good view of the Sutlej to the south-east, with a very lofty snowy mountain beyond. A little further on, the pines ceased to grow, and no tree but juniper was seen, the vegetation becoming more and more wretched in appearance, though the same Astragalus and Artemisiæ predominated. Above 12,000 feet, two or three alpine species made their appearance; these were a Polygonum, a Mulgedium, and a little shrubby Potentilla. Except these, however, not one of the numerous alpine forms observed on the Werang pass two days before were to be seen.

We encamped at an elevation of 12,500 feet on the north-east slope of the ridge, overhanging a deep wide valley, in which there were several patches of cultivation still green, at an elevation which I estimated at about 1000 feet below the level of our tents. By this wide valley, (in the lower part of which, on its east side, is the village of Kanam,) we were still separated from the central range on which the Runang pass is situated. The hills all round had a desolate aspect. They were rounded in outline, and appeared quite smooth and destitute of herbage, excepting large dark-green patches of juniper, by which they were mottled. A single stunted tree of Pinus excelsa stood within a short distance of our encampment, and four or five hundred feet lower was a small grove, apparently of birch. During the afternoon a furious west wind blew without intermission. The morning had been quite calm, but before noon the wind had begun to blow, and gradually increased in violence till late in the afternoon; after dark it became calm.

The next morning was clear, with scarcely any wind, but the mountains above us were partly shrouded in mist. For the first time during our journey we had Zobos furnished for the conveyance of our tents. These animals, which are mules between a Yak bull and Indian cow, are intermediate between the two, having most of the peculiarities by which the Yak is distinguished, though in a much less degree. Their colour varies much,—black, white, and iron-grey being all common. They have coarse long shaggy hair, much shorter than in the Yak, a stout rounded body, and the tail has a small tuft at the end, quite similar in miniature to that of the Yak. These mules are exceedingly common in Upper Kunawar and Hangarang, and are much preferred as beasts of burden to the Yak, being more docile, and less sensitive to climatic influences.

THE RUNANG PASS. August, 1847.

The first half-mile of the ascent to the pass was very gentle, till we passed round the hollow of the valley which lay below our encampment. The hill-sides were covered with stones, among which grew a few tufts of thyme, a large-leaved saxifrage, a yellow Scorzonera, a curious Polygonum, and an Oxyria, the same in appearance with that of the Alps of Europe. Two or three little rills of water trickled across the road, but their margins had no trace of green. The remainder of the ascent was more rapid, but nowhere fatiguing, and I reached the top about 9 A.M. Nothing can be conceived more dreary and bare than the aspect of the pass and the mountains all around. The hills, which at a distance appeared smooth and rounded, were now seen to be covered with loose stones piled upon one another, in the crevices of which a few plants found an attachment for their roots. The elevation was about 14,500 feet, but there was no appearance of snow. To the north-east a wide and straight valley ran from the crest, at the end of which, far below and perhaps eight miles off, was seen the village of Sungnam, beyond which another lofty range of equally rounded mountains, apparently smooth, ran parallel to that on which I stood. On this range, at a level, to the eye sensibly the same as that of the Runang pass, an evident track indicated the pass of Hangarang, over which lay the continuation of our journey.

VEGETATION. August, 1847.

I spent a considerable time on the top of the pass, and by close searching, in the crevices of the stones, especially on the hill which rose to the south-east, I succeeded in collecting a considerable number of species of plants, though very much fewer than on the Werang pass two days before. From our morning's camp to the top of the pass the whole number of species which I met with was only forty-six, not half of which were observed on the summit. The number gathered on the former pass was nearly three times as great. It must not be forgotten, however, in comparing the two ranges, that the Werang pass is 1300 feet lower than that of Runang, and ought therefore, independent of climate, to be more productive. The species which were observed for the first time on the summit of the Runang pass were not more than six, and were all forms which I have since found to be abundant throughout the higher parts of Tibet. A little willow, creeping among the stones, and scarcely more luxuriant than Salix herbacea, was the only shrubby plant. The others were Oxytropis chiliophylla, Biebersteinia odora, a Draba, Lamium rhomboideum of Bentham, and a species of rhubarb, of which I found only a few leaves and one or two panicles, from which the ripe fruit had nearly fallen away.

The descent from the pass to Sungnam was even more barren and desolate than the other side. The valley was open and almost straight, and the slope gradual. Till nearly half-way not a drop of water occurred on the road, and for miles almost the only vegetation on the hill-sides was an erect branched Polygonum, never more than a foot in height. At an elevation of about 10,000 feet, a few deodars occurred, all miserably stunted in height, though often with trunks of considerable diameter. Gerard's pine, and the ash of Tibet, also appeared a little lower, but in very small numbers. During the greater part of the descent, the white houses of Sungnam were in sight, to all appearance at the end of the valley down which we were proceeding; but when near the bottom, we discovered that we were still separated from them by a wide and level plain, that of the Ruskalan river. On the opposite side of this plain, on the side of a hill just sufficiently high to terminate the vista down the valley by which we descended from the pass, stands the town of Sungnam; while the cultivated lands, which form a wide belt, scarcely higher than the level of the river, were entirely out of sight till we arrived close to the precipitous bank parallel to the river. Here the descent was abrupt to the bed of the Ruskalan. The bank was alluvial, with enormous boulders, and was covered with tufts of Ephedra, a remarkable leafless plant with rod-like branches, which is abundant in every part of northern Tibet, especially in the driest and hottest exposures. It extends also occasionally into the partially rainy district, being found in Kunawar nearly as far west as the bridge of Wangtu.

SUNGNAM. August, 1847.

Sungnam is one of the principal places of Kunawar, dividing with Kanam, which we did not visit, the claim to be the principal seat in the Sutlej valley of the Buddhist religion. It contains numerous temples and monasteries, with also a considerable industrial population. Cultivation occupies a great part of the valley, and extends up the course of the stream to a considerable distance. The level tract along the river has in many places a breadth of nearly a quarter of a mile, and the town occupies a ridge on the mountain side, to which a gently-sloping road leads from the bridge by which we crossed the Ruskalan.

The elevation of Sungnam above the level of the sea is 9000 feet. Still the vine thrives well, the steep slopes facing the river being covered with vineyards: the grapes were not yet ripe. The principal fruit-trees are apricots and apples. Willows and poplars are also frequent in the village; a new species of the latter being for the first time observed, with leaves white and downy underneath, which appears in no way to differ from Populus alba, the common white poplar of Europe.

CHAPTER IV.

Hangarang ridge separates Kunawar from Piti—Ascent to Hangarang Pass—Alluvial deposit—Steep ascent—View of valley—Limestone rocks—Caragana versicolor, or Dama—Camp at 14,000 feet—Top of pass—View from pass—Vegetation of summit—Descent to Hango—Cultivation round the village—Luxuriant wild plants—Road to Lio—Crambe—Ravine of Piti river—Lio—Bridge over Piti river—Ascent to Nako—Nako—Cultivation of the village—Buddhist temple—Transported blocks—Chango—Changar—Stopped by villagers on Chinese frontier—Natural bridge—Kyuri—Alluvium—Clay deposit with shells—Lari—Ramifications of mountain ranges—Alluvial platforms—Pok—Dankar—Lara—Rangrig—Upper part of Piti—Climate—Saline exudations

The Hangarang ridge, as we may conveniently call that mountain range on which the pass of Hangarang is situated, forms the boundary between the districts of Kunawar and Hangarang. As this range terminates at or close to the point where the Sutlej is joined by the Piti river, this division is geographically convenient. It has also a marked physical signification, forming the absolute limit of the deodar and Gerard's pine; and indeed, if we except the juniper, of all tree vegetation.

On the 22nd of August, our party left Sungnam to ascend towards the Hangarang pass, encamping, as on the two previous occasions, on the upper part of the ascent, so as to get to the summit of the pass at an early hour next day. Our road lay up a narrow ravine, through which a small stream descended from the vicinity of the Hangarang pass, to join the Ruskalan immediately below Sungnam. We followed for a long time the course of this rivulet, so that the ascent was by no means fatiguing. A very few stunted deodars, and a single tree of Pinus Gerardiana, were the only trees met with. A little shrubby vegetation was now and then seen, consisting of an ash, rose, Colutea, Lonicera, and Spiræa. The banks of the ravine were everywhere composed of a conglomerate of angular stones, in general imbedded in soft clay, though the matrix was not unfrequently calcareous, and in several places even composed of crystalline carbonate of lime.

BEDS OF CONGLOMERATE. August, 1847.

The hard calcareous conglomerates are, I think, of different origin from the clayey ones. Indeed, I was induced to believe from what I saw in the neighbourhood of Sungnam, and occasionally in other districts (as I shall have again occasion to notice), that the calcareous conglomerates, which only occur in the neighbourhood of the limestone formation, and therefore where calcareous springs are common, are formed by the infiltration of water containing lime among beds of loose shingle which have accumulated along the base of the steep hills. These calcareous conglomerates are quite local, never very extensive, and are often covered with an incrustation of lime, showing the continued existence of the calcareous springs, by the action of which I suppose them to have been formed.

ALLUVIAL CONGLOMERATE. August, 1847.

The clay beds, on the other hand, are continuous and uniform in appearance. They vary much in thickness, but are on the whole much thicker and more remarkable in the upper part of the ravine, where (on the east side) a mass of clay, not less than five or six hundred feet in thickness, has accumulated, forming steep sloping or quite perpendicular banks, which at the top are worn away into pinnacles, and excavated into deep grooves and hollows, I presume by the action of melting snow. The fragments of rock which it contained were all angular, or at most a very little worn at the edges.

Five or six miles from Sungnam, the road left the course of the ravine, and began rapidly to ascend the steep spur which bounded it on the left. At first we followed a fissure in the clay conglomerate, which still had a thickness of nearly two hundred feet. Above, the ridge was rocky and very steep. When we had attained a sufficient height to overlook the valley by which we had ascended from Sungnam, I was able to estimate better than while in the ravine, the extent of the clay deposit. It was now seen to occupy both sides of the valley, and to be pretty equally diffused throughout, but certainly thicker on the left or eastern side,—in the upper part at least, for low down, just behind Sungnam, it capped a round sloping hill of considerable elevation to the right of the little streamlet and of the road. The valley did not narrow at the lower extremity, where it debouched into that of the Ruskalan, so much as to give any reason for supposing that it could have been closed by a barrier, so as to form a lake. Indeed, the absolute elevation of the conglomerate was so great at the upper end of the valley, that it would be necessary to suppose a barrier several thousand feet above the bed of the Ruskalan to produce such an effect. The greater thickness of the conglomerate in the upper part of the ravine, and the almost complete angularity of the fragments, were equally opposed to such a view. Nor was I able to form any probable conjecture as to the mode in which these accumulations had been formed.

ROCKS OF HANGARANG. August, 1847.

In the earlier part of the day's journey, the rock, where exposed, was invariably clay-slate, not different in appearance from that which, commencing at Lipa, had been observed on every part of the Runang ridge. It dipped generally at a high angle, but was often much contorted. In the upper part of the ravine, thick beds of a hard cherty quartz rock alternated with the slate; and in the course of the last steep ascent, at an elevation of about 13,500 feet, the first limestone was observed. It was of a dark blue colour, very hard, coarsely stratified, and much veined with white calcareous spar. It seemed to dip at a high angle towards the north-east.

The ridge by which we ascended was quite bare of trees and exceedingly barren, producing very little vegetation of any sort, and no novelty, till we had almost attained an elevation of 14,000 feet. We then observed bushes of a species of Caragana (C. versicolor), the Dama of the Tibetans, a very curious stunted shrub, which is very extensively distributed at elevations which no other woody plants attain, and which, therefore, is much prized and extensively used as fuel. I had not met with it before, nor does it appear to extend at all into the wooded region of the Himalaya. We encamped on a flat piece of ground at 14,000 feet. Notwithstanding the elevation, the heat of the sun was very great during the day, but the evening and night were extremely cold.

HANGARANG PASS. August, 1847.

Early next morning a short steep ascent of about 800 feet brought us to the top of the pass, which has an elevation of 14,800 feet above the sea. The Dama, in green patches from two to four feet in diameter, was abundant till near the summit. The pass occupies a hollow in the ridge, which rises considerably on both sides. To the north-west, on the northern exposure, there was at a short distance one small patch of snow, from which the pass and surrounding mountains were otherwise quite free. No remarkable difficulty of breathing was experienced by any of the party, except immediately after any exertion. The ascent was latterly so steep, that it was necessary to stop frequently to take breath, and the pulse was found to be very considerably accelerated when counted immediately after walking. There was, however, a great difference according to the individual; in one case it rose as high as 136; but a few minutes' rest restored it nearly to the usual standard.

At the crest of the pass, the rock was a hard bluish-grey limestone, traversed in every direction by numerous crystalline veins. I ascended the hill to the south-east, to an elevation of nearly 16,000 feet, which was within a few hundred feet of the summit. At that height it was composed of a mass of loose fragments of black slate, perfectly moveable, and so steep, that it was difficult to progress in an upward direction. Vegetation had almost disappeared; more, however, from the moveable shingly soil than from the elevation attained, for wherever a solid rock peeped out, straggling plants still lingered; the rhubarb, Biebersteinia, a minute saxifrage, and a yellow lichen, were the species which attained the greatest altitude.

The view from the summit of the pass, and the steep hill above it, was extensive, but very desolate. In the direction of our previous journey, the rounded outline of the Runang range bounded the view, but in front a much wider and more diversified extent of country was embraced. To the eastward, the lofty mountain of Porgyul was seen almost to its base; its upper part a magnificent mass of snow, the summit being upwards of 22,000 feet in height. To the north of Porgyul, where the valley of the Piti river allowed the distant mountains to be seen, a succession of ranges rose one beyond another, the furthest evidently at a great distance, and covered with heavy snow[7].

The vegetation at the summit of the ridge was even more scanty than on the Runang pass. There was, however, more novelty in species than I had met with there. A grass, several saxifrages, Potentillæ and Seda, a little Thermopsis, an Anemone, and a beautiful Delphinium (D. Brunonianum, Royle), were the new species observed; and these, I believe, (as was indeed to be expected from the minuteness with which the country had been investigated by Dr. Royle's collectors,) were all previously described species.

HANGO. August, 1847.

From the pass the descent was pretty steep all the way to Hango, a small village, elevated 11,500 feet. The road lay on the side of a ravine, keeping the hills on the left hand, and the channel of the stream on the right. The Dama, which had disappeared at the summit, was again plentiful on the northern slope; and a shrubby species of Potentilla, quite new to me, was exceedingly common. Otherwise, little change was visible. The road was good, but the hills were dry and stony.

The village of Hango, notwithstanding its great elevation, has a considerable extent of cultivation, though I think the corn was less luxuriant than at lower levels. The wheat was still green, and rather scanty, a good deal of a wild oat (perhaps Avena fatua) being mixed with it; but the barley was stronger and more productive. There was also a number of fields of Hordeum Ægiceras, that curious awnless monstrous barley, which seems peculiar to the higher regions of Tibet, where it is very frequently cultivated. This grain was much further advanced than the wheat, being nearly ripe. The arable lands of Hango are nearly destitute of trees, a few willows being the only arboreous vegetation. They are abundantly supplied with water, circulating in copious rills among the different fields, which are disposed in terraces one above another, faced by walls about three feet in height. On the margins of the cultivation, stimulated by the moisture derived from the irrigation, there was a very abundant growth of shrubs, and of luxuriant herbaceous plants. The gooseberry, Hippophaë, and rose, were the shrubs, and several large Umbelliferæ, one of which was closely allied to the Assafœtida, a tall Thalictrum, a yellow-flowered Medicago, Verbascum Thapsus, two species of thistle, the common henbane, dock, mint, Plantago, and various species of Artemisia, were the most common herbaceous plants.

HANGO VALLEY. August, 1847.

On the 24th of August we proceeded to Lio, a village on the right or west bank of the Piti river. The road crosses the small stream which runs past Hango, a little below the village, and gradually ascends the slope of the hill on its left bank. Close to the stream there is a bank of clayey alluvium, with stones, and traces of it may be seen at intervals for some distance down the valley, but it is nowhere of any great thickness. The hill along which the road lay was composed of a cherty sandstone of a light-blue colour, often nearly white; in fragments, and especially when pulverized, it was quite so; and being extremely brittle, the slopes were covered with fine white dust, the glare of which, in the bright sunshine, was very unpleasant. On this gravelly ascent the vegetation was equally scanty, and much the same in character as at moderate elevations on the two previous days; a large thistle, species of Artemisia, Chenopodiaceæ, and a spinous Astragalus, being the most abundant plants.

The road continued to ascend gently for about half a mile, rapidly increasing its height above the stream, which had a considerable slope. The next two miles were tolerably level, over a good but stony road, at an elevation a little under 12,000 feet. A species of Crambe, with a long fusiform root, smelling somewhat like a turnip, was common along this part of the road. The young leaves of this plant are used by the Tibetans as a pot-herb, and are said to be well-flavoured. A species of currant (R. glandulosum), with viscid, glandular, very aromatic-smelling leaves, was also met with; its fruit, now ripe, had a sweetish taste, but no flavour. It is a common Tibetan species, extending on the Indus as low down as 6500 feet.

THE PITI RIVER. August, 1847.

An abrupt descent followed, of not less than seven or eight hundred feet, into a wide steeply-sloping valley, descending from the north to join that of Hango. On the surface of this hollow, the road passed among a multitude of large angular boulders of limestone, irregularly scattered over the surface. This limestone was much like that of the Hangarang pass, and as it nowhere occurred in situ on the road, the boulders must have come from the hills on the upper part of the lateral ravine. A small spring of water and a solitary willow marked the centre of the valley, beyond which the road again ascended slightly, till on rounding a corner, the Piti river came into view, at the bottom of a most remarkable rocky ravine. Full in front, just beyond the river, was a scarped rock of great height; it was of a dark grey colour, and was traversed in every direction by immense white veins. Round this precipice, which seemed to project beyond the general mass, the river swept in a deep curve, of which the convexity was towards me.

The mountains on the right bank of the river, which formed the termination of the range on which I stood, seemed not less steep than those opposite, for the road, instead of passing round them without change of level, rose rapidly as it turned to the left, till it had attained an elevation of at least 12,000 feet, at which height it wound among precipitous rocks of hard dark slate, covered with bushes of Ephedra, and scattered trees of Juniperus excelsa. When fairly round the rocky projecting range, the village of Lio was discovered more than 2000 feet below, in a narrow ravine, on the bank of a small stream descending from the north-west, and close to its junction with the Piti river. The descent was very abrupt, in a rocky ravine among large boulders, partly of slate, partly of granite. This rock occurred in thick veins in the clay-slate, most abundantly on the lower part of the precipices which rose on the left hand during the descent.

LIO. August, 1847.

Lio, at an elevation of 9600 feet above the sea, is a considerable village, with a large tract of cultivation, disposed in terraces from three to six feet above one another. The crops of wheat and barley had been all cut, but there were many fields of buckwheat in full flower, and of millet (Panicum miliaceum) still quite green. Numerous apricot-trees, from which the fruit had long been gathered, were interspersed among the cultivated lands. Surrounded on all sides by very precipitous mountains, which reflect the sun's rays, Lio appears to enjoy a great amount of heat, and the weeds which bordered the corn-fields were rank and abundant, and included many species which had not been seen at the higher villages. Salvia glutinosa, almost the only remaining Simla plant, burdock, sow-thistle, lucerne, and melilot, were the commonest weeds. A little Cuscuta was common on these latter. No tree of any kind occurred in the valley, nor on the slopes on either side. Elevation could not be the cause of this, the height being much lower than the line of upper limit of tree vegetation in the outer Himalaya, and the temperature of the valley, as was evident from the kinds of grain cultivated, very much greater than it would have been at the same level, in the more rainy climates nearer the plains of India.

The ravine through which the Lio stream runs is narrow and rocky, and contains a great number of transported blocks of various sizes, scattered irregularly over the surface. Close to the village there is a curious isolated rock, separated by the stream from the mountain mass with which it has evidently once been connected.

CROSS THE PITI RIVER. August, 1847.

On the 25th of August we crossed the Piti river, a little above Lio, and ascended to the village of Nako, on a very steep ridge, which descended from the great mountain Porgyul. After leaving the cultivated lands of Lio, which extend for half a mile from the upper part of the village, we ascended the right bank of the Piti river for nearly a mile, to a bridge, by which it is crossed. The river ran here in an extremely narrow ravine, precipitous mountains rising on either side. Its banks were steep, and covered with loose shingle, the débris of the precipices above. The stream is of considerable size, but much inferior to the Sutlej where we had last observed it close at hand, though I believe it is nearly as large as that river, at the point of junction of the two. The Piti runs in this part of its course with great rapidity, and is probably of considerable depth.

ASCENT TO NAKO. August, 1847.

The bridge was situated at a bend of the river, where the rocky banks contract more than usual. It was similar in structure to that over the Sutlej at Wangtu, but much smaller, and in so dilapidated a state, that it could scarcely be expected to last another year. The ascent to Nako was throughout steep, the difference of elevation being about 2500 feet, and the distance not more than two miles and a half. When at a sufficient height above the narrow dell in which the Piti runs, a good view was obtained of the mountains by which we were surrounded, which rose on all sides in rugged precipices. The steepness of the cliffs allowed their geological structure to be well seen. The fundamental rock, wherever I saw it, appeared to be clay-slate, sometimes passing into chert or quartzy sandstone. This basal rock was everywhere traversed by innumerable veins of quartz and granite, which exhibited no signs of parallelism, but ramified in every direction. These veins were often of great thickness. Not unfrequently, indeed, the mass of granite much exceeded the slaty beds between which it was interposed; but its connection with other veins of more moderate size rendered it evident that it had been injected into the slate.

Behind the village of Lio a thick deposit of alluvial clay was discernible, which seemed to suggest the idea of the valley having formerly been a lake; and at no place where I had seen these clayey accumulations was this hypothesis so plausible, for the precipices south of the junction of the Lio stream, rose almost perpendicularly for more than 1000 feet above the Piti river, and approached so close to one another, that their disruption was at least a possible contingency.

The slopes, as we ascended, were covered with boulders of granite in countless profusion, and the vegetation was extremely scanty, Ephedra being the most abundant plant observed. On the upper part of the ascent the road crossed a little streamlet, which was conducted in an artificial channel to irrigate a few fields of wheat. The margins of this little stream, and a belt a few feet in width on both sides, where the ground was swampy, were covered with a dense thicket of Hippophaë and rose-bushes, among which grew thickly and luxuriantly a scandent Clematis, and Rubia cordifolia, mint, dock, and thistles. The number of species altogether was scarcely more than a dozen, but the brilliant green formed so delightful a contrast with the prevailing monotony, that what in a more fertile country would have been passed as a mere thicket of thorns, to my eyes appeared a most beautiful grove of graceful shrubs; and I lingered in the swampy ground, till I had traversed it repeatedly in every direction, and completely exhausted the flora.

NAKO. August, 1847.

Nako is a smaller village than Lio, and from its elevation (12,000 feet) has no fruit-trees; but at the base of the cultivation, which is extensive, there was a copse of willows and poplars. The predominant crop was barley, now quite ripe, and being cut; the species was the common one, not H. Ægiceras, but the ears were very short, and the return must, I should think, have been very small. There was abundance of water, which ran in every direction through the fields. The little streamlets had a narrow belt of green on their margins, consisting of small grasses, several gentians, and Potentillæ, one of which I could not distinguish from P. anserina, a Polygonum very like P. viviparum, and, most remarkable of all, a small orchideous plant, which seemed to be a species of Herminium.

BUDDHIST TEMPLES. August, 1847.

At Nako, we had a most satisfactory proof of the little estimation in which the lamas, or priests of the Buddhist religion, hold their religious buildings, the apartments furnished to us in the village being the different parts of the temple, surrounded with full-sized figures of the different incarnations of Buddha, in sitting posture, each with his hands in the position which is conventionally used to indicate the individual. The remarkable forms and system of the Buddhist religion, as practised in Kunawar and Ladak, have been so often and accurately described, that it would be useless for me to attempt to give any account of what I could, from want of previous knowledge, very imperfectly understand, and from my other occupations scarcely at all inquire into. The gradual transition, in ascending the Sutlej, from Hinduism to Buddhism, is very remarkable, and not the less so because it is accompanied by an equally gradual change in the physical aspect of the inhabitants, the Hindus of the lower Sutlej appearing to pass by insensible gradations as we advance from village to village, till at last we arrive at a pure Tartar population. The people of upper Piti have quite the Tartar physiognomy, the small stature and stout build of the inhabitants of Ladak, to whom also they closely approximate in dress. To what extent mere climatic influences may cause these differences, and how far they depend on an intermixture of races, I do not pretend to decide. It is impossible, however, to avoid being struck by the coincidence between these physical and moral changes in the human race, and the gradual alteration in the forms of the vegetable world, which are observable as we advance from a wet to a dry climate.

PORGYUL August, 1847.

From Nako we proceeded, on the 26th of August, nearly due north, to Chango, about ten miles up the Piti valley. Nako is situated on the shoulder of the great mountain Porgyul, which rises to a height of 10,000 feet above that village, and Chango is at the very extremity of a long spur given off by that mountain further east: it is therefore separated from the Nako spur by a valley of considerable size, which descends abruptly towards the Piti river. Our road lay in a long sweep round the deep bay formed by this valley, at an elevation not lower than that of Nako, crossing in the most receding part a foaming torrent which descends from the perpetual snows of the mountain behind. Half a mile from Nako, and scarcely lower than that place, is a patch of cultivation, watered, as I was surprised to find, by a conduit brought more than a mile along the side of the hill from the stream which occupies the mid-valley; the water of which was collected into several ponds, one above another, in which it was kept in reserve till required for irrigation. The crops cultivated were buckwheat and a species of Brassica, both in flower. A number of poplars and willows were planted along the stream, but no fruit-trees.

ANGULAR BOULDERS. August, 1847.

Beyond this cultivated tract, the road, till we reached Chango, was entirely barren. For several miles we continued to pass through a most extraordinary accumulation of transported blocks, scattered irregularly on the gently sloping sides of the mountains. They covered a very large area, and occurred in such almost incredible profusion, that the road seemed to lie in a hollow among fragments of rock on all sides. They were all angular; and at so considerable an elevation as 12,000 feet, I have now no hesitation in referring them to glacier action. The rock in situ was clay-slate, with copious granite veins, and the boulders were in general the same. In one place, however, a dark mica-slate, with large crystals of cyanite, was the predominating rock of the erratic blocks, which no doubt might have been traced to its source in the ravine above, as I nowhere saw it in situ during the day.

After passing the torrent which occupies the centre of the valley, the road very gradually approaches the Piti river, from which it had at first receded considerably. We could now observe that the mountains which overhung the river in this part of its course were much less precipitous, and the valley wider and more open, than around Lio. Alluvial beds of great thickness everywhere rested on the ancient rocks, assuming the most diversified forms, but in general thicker and higher on the sides of the hills, at some distance from the river, than in the centre of the valley. About a mile and a half from Chango, the road began to descend rather rapidly along a dry water-course filled with huge boulders. It then crossed a stream, which had cut for itself a very deep channel through the alluvial conglomerate, and ascended slightly to the village of Chango. Close to the last stream was a bed of very fine clay, which had a thickness of at least twenty-five feet, and did not appear to contain any stones, pebbles, or fragments of rock. This clay had quite a different appearance from the alluvial conglomerate, which covered it, without appearing to pass into it. It occurred extensively in several places in the neighbourhood of Chango, and had entirely the appearance of having been deposited in a very tranquil lake, while the alluvium which rested upon it, and, therefore, was of more recent formation, contained so many fragments of rock, all seemingly angular, that its origin could scarcely be assigned to deposition under water, unless under some very peculiar circumstances.

CHANGO. August, 1847.

Chango is situated in the middle of an open, nearly level tract of considerable size, which slopes very gently towards the Piti river. The cultivation is extensive, water being more than usually abundant, so that much of the ground is swampy from its waste, and covered with tufts of a small Iris and a species of Equisetum. The barley had been all cut, as well as the beans, which are here grown to some extent. Buckwheat and rape-seed (a species of Brassica) were still in flower, and the millet quite green. Apricot-trees were still common, though the elevation of Chango is about 10,500 feet. The village lies nearly opposite to Shialkar, but separated from it by the Piti river, which, at the bridge of that place, is elevated exactly 10,000 feet above the level of the sea.