114 DR. HOOKER'S MISSTON TO INDIA. 
broad shed, divided it into compartments for themselves and us, and 
thatched all with wild plantain leaves and bamboo. A table and two 
settees, to serve for chairs and beds, were soon supplied ; and though 
our roof leaked a little, we managed to make ourselves tolerably com- 
fortable for the afternoon and night. "Towards evening the sky cleared 
up for a while, affording a glimpse of the snowy mountains through 
the trees, and of Darjeeling, to the level of which we had scarcely 
ascended. 
It is at this elevation, and a little below, that the climbing parasites 
are most superb, scaling the loftiest forest-trees as at Kursiong, and 
throwing their great arms round them. I send you a sketch of one of 
the largest dimensions, enfolding a tree so huge that I could induce 
none of my people to ascend it. Since then, Dr. Campbell and myself 
found the same species at a similar level, nearer Darjeeling, and pro- 
cured its leaves with some trouble ; but I cannot, from these, recognize 
even the order to which the plant belongs. It is not Ficus noris it a 
Leguminous plant. 
After cooking their strange supper, the Lepchas took to their stories 
and flutes. The tones of the latter are singularly sweet and melo- 
dious; and, though no more than a reiterated /oo-/00, with now and 
` then a wayward change of key or variation, it is so soft, musical, and 
sylvan, that one can listen to it long and with pleasure. It seems to har- 
monize with the solitude of these primeval forests. What a contrast 
to the hateful tom-toms of the Hindoo of the plains! which used to 
drive me almost distracted on the Ganges. The instrument is made 
of bamboo, with four equidistant apertures situated far below the 
mouth-hole, which, again, is remote from the butt-end. 
A thermometer, sunk 2 feet 4 inches in the soil, stood at 62° an 
hour or two after its being buried, and at 61:7? on the following morn- 
ing, which is about the mean summer-temperature of Darjeeling. 
At night, nothing is audible save the occasional hoot of an owl, and 
the extraordinary guttural metallic clack of the tree-frog (called Simook), 
totally dissimilar from any other sound I ever heard. Of all organized 
ereatures, I think Frogs have the most unnatural voices. The cries of 
- beasts, birds, or insects, are all more explicable to the senses, and more 
or less referable to the species or family by the observing naturalist ; 
but allied species of Frog utter tones which do not betray the smallest 
affinity to each other, and more resemble the concussion of metals or 
