946 Journal of a trip through Kunawur. CNov. 



His words brought to mind the old Scotch ballad, 



" The swan, she said, the lake's clear breast, 

 May barter for the eagle's nest ; 

 The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn, 

 Ben Cruachanfall and crush Kilchurn, 

 Our kilted clans when blood runs high, 

 Before the foe may turn and fly ; 

 But, I, were all these marvels done, 

 " Would never wed the Earlie's son." — 



And I thought it by no means improbable that the sequel might turn 

 out after the same fahsion ; — 



" Still, in the water lily's shade, 



Her wonted nest the wild swan made ; 



Ben Cruachan stands as fast as ever, 



Still onward foams the Awe's fierce river ; 



Before the foe when blood i-an high, 



No Highland brogue has turned to fly ; 



Yet Nora's vow is lost and won, 



She's married to the Earlie's son. 



and so it may be hereafter that the " Feringee" shall tread those now- 

 forbidden scenes, though his head be unadorned with horns, and wool 

 be not gathered from the rocks. 



It appears however from the accounts of the people, that so many 

 travellers have at different times wandered through the upper hills, 

 without any apparent object, save that of looking at the country, that 

 the suspicions of the Chinese have been kept on the alert, and they 

 are more particular than ever in enforcing their orders, especially 

 since Runjeet's troops in Ladak have thrown out some hints of paying 

 them a visit, when they have settled the affairs of their late conquest. 

 There is however little chance of their carrying the threat into execu- 

 tion, as Chinese Tartary holds out to them no chance of plunder save 

 its splendid flocks of sheep, which would easily be driven far beyond 

 their reach, and leave them a barren waste for their portion. 



Having crossed the stone sangho, we proceeded up the side of a hill 

 by what the guide termed a road, though I could not distinguish it 

 from the surrounding mass of crumbling soils. It got better, however, 

 as we gained the top, and a short distance brought us to a small 

 stream, across which we stepped out of Chinese Tartary into Spiti, de- 

 pendent on Ladak. From this we travelled for some miles along the 

 side of a bare black hill of decomposing shale, and then descending to 

 a level plain of clay and rolled stone, we crossed a river which the 

 Tartars called " Gew," from its passing a village of that name in 

 Chinese Tartary. Above this river on the opposite bank, the beds of 



