340 BOTANICAL INFORMATION. 
had Thibetan ponies, and I must describe my feats, mounted thereon, à la 
Taríare, on another occasion. I walked, however, good part of the way, 
collecting lots of new plants, of Thibetan types. Above this place, the 
Lachen river, which we followed, is bounded by two stupendous moun- 
tains, its bed being immediately margined by flats and low stony or 
grassy hills. A little Juniper and Rhododendron accompanied us for a 
short way ; beyond, all was short turf and stones, marshy flats and 
rocky spurs; the vegetation scanty, but very varied. The Thibetans 
come over the frontier in summer to feed their yaks, residing in black 
horse-hair tents. We saw two of them, and I stopped and entered 
one, which was empty, except a fine Chinese-looking girl—a jolly laugh- 
ing wench, who presented me with a slice of curd. These people make 
butter all the summer, and eat curd with herbs, milk, and Fagopyrum 
bread. The richer sort only can afford to purchase rice. They have 
two sorts of churn. One is a goat skin, in which the cream is enclosed, 
and beaten, stamped upon, and rolled. The other is an oblong box, a 
yard in length, full of fee Rhododendron twigs, beautifully frosted 
with butter, but all alive with maggots. The tents are roomy and 
water-tight, though of so loose a texture as to be pervious to wind and 
smoke. Some miles further, we reached the tents of Peppin (the 
Lachen Soubah), and were most graciously received by his squaw and 
family. The whole party squatted in a ring inside the tent, myself 
seated at the head, on a beautiful Chinese mat. The lady of the 
Soubah then made tea (4rick-tea), with salt and butter, and each of us 
produced our Bhotea cup, which was always kept full. Curd, parched 
rice, and beaten maize, were handed liberally round, and we fared 
sumptuously, for I am very fond both of brick-tea and curds. Our 
fire was of juniper-wood, and the utensils, of clay, were moulded at 
Dijarchi, except the Bamboo churn, in which the tea, salt, and butter, 
are churned previous to boiling. Meantime, my poor dog Kinchin, 
who stood fastened outside, kept up a furious baying at a huge Bhotea 
dog, a most noble animal, who longed to demolish my faithful Argus. 
Presently a tremendous peal, like thunder, echoed down the glen. My 
followers started to their feet, and cried to me to be off, for the moun- 
tains were falling, and a violent storm was at hand. We pursued our 
way, for five or six miles, in thick fog; the roar of the falling masses, 
from Kinchin-jow on one hand, and Chomoimo on the other, being 
literally awful ; 1 never heard anything the least like it, except claps of 
