GEOGRAPHICAL RESULTS OF THE TIBET MISSION. 271 



a few delicate streaks of pink or golden cloud poised motionless on 

 the horizon. And the great snowy mountains, in the early morning 

 when I used to go out and watch them, instead of being sharp, clear, 

 and cold, would be veiled in that blue, hazy, dreamy indistinctness 

 which makes the view of Kinchenjunga from Darjiling so marvel- 

 ously beautiful and the hard stern mountains as ethereal as fairy- 

 land. The bare brown of the base of the mountains was toned down 

 into exquisite shades of purple and pink, while the white of me 

 snowy summits shaded softly into the cerulean of the sky above. On 

 the plain, plump little larks and finches would be scurrying about in 

 search of food. Xow and then a little vole would be seen basking in 

 the sun at the mouth of his hole. And over all there reigned a sense 

 of peace and quiet which made it hard to believe that only 10 miles 

 off five of the highest lamas in Tibet were solemnly cursing us and 

 publishing to the people round threats of attack upon our camp. 



Nor was every day, nor the whole of each day, of this same peace- 

 ful nature. Almost invariably at 10 or 11 a terrific wind would 

 arise and blow with fury for the rest of the day. Mighty masses 

 of cloud would come sweeping up from the direction of India. Snow 

 would sometimes fall, and then for two or three days together we 

 would be the sport of a terrific blizzard. The mountains would be 

 hidden and nothing would be visible but dull masses of fiercely driven 

 snow, as fine and dry as dust and penetrating everywhere. For days 

 together the thermometer would not rise above 15° even in the middle 

 of the daj^ Our camp would be the very picture of desolation. It 

 seemed impossible that the poor sentries at night would ever be able 

 to stand against the howling storm and the penetrating snow or 

 that our soldiers would ever be able to resist an attack from the 

 Tibetans under such terrific circumstances. 



Then one morning we would find the snow clouds had passed away 

 from over us and see the great peak Chumalhari emerging calm, 

 strong, and irresistible from out of the mass of cloud still tossing 

 Avildly round its base. Below all seemed chaos. It was difficult to 

 stand against the driving wind; the dust and the powdery snow 

 were still battling furiously around one and around the base of the 

 mountain, and the birds were driven hither and thither. But tow- 

 ering above all the tumult below, serene and majestic, and looking 

 prouder, loftier, and purer than ever, rose the great peak, reverenced 

 even by the unimaginative Tibetans, and above it lay the calm blue 

 sky, illimitable in its restfulness and light — a sky of bright and 

 liquid azure, through which one seemed able to pierce right into 

 heaven itself. 



Throughout January, February, and March the bitter winds con- 

 tinued, often accompanied by snow in blinding blizzards, through 

 Avhich the convoys and their escort had to force their way with per- 



