Note. Total area of the Feudatory States attached to the Panjáb amounts approximately to 104,000 square miles.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CHINESE TIBET AGAIN.

A HABITATIONLESS DISTRICT-A TIBETAN MASTIFF-CHADDALDOK AND TO-TZO RIVERS NECESSARY VIOLENCE-CHÚMÚRTI DOOR INTO TIBET-ORIGIN OF TIBETAN EXCLUSIVENESS-TURNER'S EMBASSY -BOGLE AND MANNING-THE TIBETAN QUESTION.

On the next two days I had the first and shortest of those stretches over ground without villages and houses to which I have already alluded; and my route took me again, for a day's journey and a night's encampment, into the inhospitable region of Chinese Tibet, but into a section of that country where I saw no Tartar young women or human inhabitants of any kind. From Chango a path leads into Spiti across the river Lee, by the fort of Shealkar, over the Lepcha Pass and along the right bank of the Lee; but that route is said to be extremely difficult, and I selected a path (which surely cannot possibly be much better) that takes northward up the left side of the Lee, but at some distance from it, into the Chinese province of Chúmúrti, and, after a day's journey there, crosses the boundary of Spiti, and continues, still on the same bank of the river, on to Dankar, the capital of Spiti.

A long steep ascent from Chango took me again on

to the priceless 12,000 and 13,000 feet level. The early morning was most delicious, being clear and bright, without wind, and exhilarating in the highest degree, while nothing could be more striking than the lighting up by the sun of the snowy peaks around. One starts on these early mountain journeys in great spirits, after drinking about a quart of fresh milk; but after three or four hours, when the rays of the sun have begun to make themselves felt, and there has been a certain amount of going down into perpendicular gorges and climbing painfully up the other side of them, our spirits begin to flag, and, unless there has been a long rest and a good breakfast in the middle of the day, feelings of exasperation are in the ascendant before the camping-ground is reached.

Early on this day's journey I met the finest Tibetan mastiff which I saw in all the Himálaya. It was a sheep-dog, of a dark colour, and much longer and larger than any of the ferocious guardians of Shipki. While we were talking to the shepherd who owned it, this magnificent creature sat watching us, growling and showing its teeth, evidently ready to fly at our throats at a moment's notice; but whenever I spoke of purchase, it at once put a mile of hill between us, and no calls of its master would induce it to come back. It seemed at once to understand that it was being bargained for, and so took steps to preserve its own liberty; but it need not have been so alarmed, for the shepherd refused to part with it on any terms.

After passing the Chaddaldok Po by a narrow slated wooden bridge, we reached the top of the left bank of the To-tzo or Para river, which divides Hangrang from Chinese Tibet. The descent to the stream is about

1500 feet, and a short way down there are some hot springs, with grass and willow-trees round them, and the shelter of great rocks. This would be by far the best place for camping; but, for some reason or other, the Chango people had determined that we should do so on the Chinese side of the river. On getting down there, with some difficulty, and crossing the sang-pa, I found there was no protection whatever from the sun's rays, which beat into the valley fiercely, and were reflected, in an overpowering manner, from the white stones and rocks around, while the noise of the furious river was quite deafening. Here I had to remain without shelter and without food for nearly three hours, getting more and more exasperated as time passed on. After this, I usually kept two coolies within reach of me, with sufficient supplies to meet any emergency, and clothing sufficient to enable me to camp out if necessary; but I had now to learn the wisdom of such an arrangement.

My servants had not got on well with the Chango people, and the latter had left us only a little way before we reached this river, under pretence of taking a short cut. I could not feel that the former were properly in my hands until I got past Dankar, for they might invent some scheme for forcing me to go down from that place to the Sutlej valley, through the Babeh Pass. As to the Chango bigárrís, I could not say what their motive might be for delay; but it was clear to me, now that I was alone, that it would be necessary to check this sort of thing at the outset, and I felt a certain advantage for doing so being upon Chinese ground. So, when the parties did come in at last, I made my wrath appear to be even greater than it was;

and seeing that one of them was a shikari, and had a matchlock gun and a hunting-knife with him, I thought there could be nothing cowardly in making an example of him, so I fell upon him, and frightened one or two

more.

This was what the French call a necessary act, and it by no means interfered with the friendly terms on which I usually stood with my coolies; but I need scarcely say that such things should not be encouraged, and that everything depends upon why and how they are done. No formal rules can touch this subject effectually. Some men will travel through a country without being guilty of an act of violence, or even of uttering an angry word, and yet they leave behind a feeling of bitter hatred not only towards themselves but also towards the race and government to which they belong. Other men produce similar results by unnecessary, stupid, and cowardly acts of violence. It is curious that sometimes a Briton, who is so wildly benevolent in theory towards weak and uncivilised races, no sooner finds himself among them than he tramples on their toes unmercifully, and is ready to treat them in a ruthless manner. Therefore I must guard against the supposition that I go in for violent treatment in any part of the world, though just as little do I hold that it should be entirely avoided in all circumstances. It is the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin, which is the best recommendation of the traveller. An English officer, a great shikari, writing to me from the wilds to the north of Kashmír, mentions that the people of one village (who had been in Kashmír, and had noticed the ways of English officers there) begged him, in the name of God, not to make a map of the country;