1898.] S. C. Das — Travels on the Shores of Lake Yamdo-Croft. 
263 
The kind-hearted lady gave me an introduction to her cousin Dorje 
Pha-mo, the incarnate female hierach of Samding. In handing over the 
letter to me she said :—“ Fear not Pandubla, Dorje Pha-mo will be as 
kind to you as myself. We have no hand in the inevitable consequence 
of Karma. You must submit to it, but I am glad that you have fallen ill 
here instead of at another place, for here we can send you to Dorje 
Pha-mo. Come directly to our house when you recover.” She warned 
my two attendants Pador and Lama Tomola surnamed Tshingta not to 
desert me. Her two sons exhorted Pador to be a faithful and devoted 
servant to Pandubla (myself), and serve him to the last. It was about 9 
A.M., when I slowly rode towards Samding. At a distance of about two 
miles from Nangar-tse, we crossed a sluggish stream which flowed towards 
the Yamdo lake. The rivulet was teeming with a small fish and over¬ 
grown with a kind of sedge, over which green moss was scattered. The 
plain over which we travelled was extensive towards the north and south. 
Crossing three or four limpid, but sluggish streams, all on their way 
to join the great lake, we arrived at the eastern side of Samding mon¬ 
astery, which, perched on the top of a barren hill, looked very picturesque. 
The flight of stone steps from the foot of the hill to the top of it, 
along which a zig-zag pathway wound up, lined by a stone wall about 
six feet high and three feet broad, filled me with the greatest dismay : 
how could I ascend to that height when my heart throbbed even while 
I was seated on the pony ! Arrived at the large Chhorten (stupa) 
where pilgrims generally halt and encamp, Tomola asked two men, who 
were coming down from the monastery, if Dorje Pha-mo was accessible 
to pilgrims, and if the two physicians were at the monastery. Being 
answered in the affirmative, I dismounted from the pony, and sat down 
gasping on a stone step. After a few minntes’ rest we commenced our 
wearisome ascent. Taking rest at every bend of the stair, I reached its 
top about 300 feet in height. The top of the steps, however, was not 
the end, for a narrow pathway thence lead us further up to the foot of 
the monastery. From the eastern edge of the hill we now came to the 
north-western face of it, whence we enjoyed a grand view of the 
inner lake of Yamdo. Ascending a few steps, we arrived at the northern 
gate of the monastery, which faces the inner and higher lake called 
Dumo-tsho, the demon’s lake. I saw with surprise several men 
walking round the monastery and continually twirling Manikhorlo (prayer 
wheels), for I thought men, excepting women pilgrims, had no access 
to the monastery of which the presiding head was an incarnate 
nun; but the number of monks seemed to be large among the cir¬ 
cumambulators. I was led along a narrow lane towards the north¬ 
east corner of the monastery. A few minutes after I was waiting 
