BOTANICAL INFORMATION. 839 
as I made no inquiry, he concluded I was angry, and dared not ask me 
for medicine. T should tell you that the illness was caused by a quan- 
tity of wild herbs and fruits which the poor wretch had eaten, by way 
of eking out his slender fare. At night a servant came, informing me 
that his master was very bad, like to die, and exemplifying the disturb- 
ance of the Soubah’s interior by twisting his fingers together and 
clenching them across the pit of his own stomach. I instantly sent 
him a large dose, and next morning my patient was on his legs, though 
looking wofully ill. In the gratitude of his heart, he told me that he 
had heard of such a place as * Koncara Lama, and proffered to guide 
me there, if I promised not to stay more than one night at Tungu. I 
repeated my former refusal—that I ‘would not enter Cheen (Thibet) 
till my instructions came.’ ‘ But,’ he said, * Tungu is not in Cheen.’ 
“Is it in Sikkim, then?’ ‘ Yes, certainly.’ ‘ Very well, since this is 
the case, we will all go to-morrow morning, and I shall stay there as 
long as ever I choose.’ So he could only smile and agree. 
* Samdong (which signifies æ dridge) is the name of the place of 
detention where all the above battling occurred. It is about eight 
miles north of the Fork of the Zemu and Lachen, in a stunted forest of 
Juniper and Abies Webbiana. It is situated on the Lachen river. The 
mountains on either side are low and grassy,—swarming with rare 
plants. Marshy flats border the stream, and afford good yak-grazing ; 
and I added fifty or sixty species to my collection in a very short time. 
Thence, north to this place, is five or six miles more, the valley be- 
coming broader, the hills lower and still more grassy, producing an 
abundance of novel species. 
* We went to the pass, and entered Thibet yesterday ; my friend, 
the Soubah, acting as guide. His apologies are numberless. The 
Chinese, he says, had threatened to cut off his head, if he permitted any 
European to cross the frontier. I replied that an Englishman always 
carries his point, and whether in days, weeks, or months, made no dif- 
ference to me. Now he vows that he will never hide so much as that 
(pointing to the tip of his little finger),—that he will show me every- 
thing, and that I must visit his wife in his black tent on the frontier. 
So the tables are turned, and the Bhoteas show themselves as civil, 
communicative, and zealous in good offices, as they previously were 
hostile and impracticable. 
“The Pass is about ten miles am of the place whence I write. We 
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