valley some ten miles in length. Many small villages
and homesteads lay dotted about the plain, each
surrounded by trees and cultivated land. The houses
were whitewashed and substantially built, and the people
looked happy and prosperous. With the rich soil
and the seclusion which this valley offers, it is curious
that the country is not more thickly populated, for
there remain large tracts of fertile ground covered
with close grass, more than sufficient for the flocks of
sheep, ponies, and donkeys of the present inhabitants.
The arrangements made by the officials for our
comfort on arrival in camp still continued to be excellent
; grain, bhoosa, and wood were laid out in heaps,
and cows tethered close by stood waiting for the
milking. The milkmaids, however, did not come up
to the usual standard of beauty and cleanliness, and the
cows would never give milk until a stuffed calf and a
feed of chopped straw had been placed before them;
when these seductions were insufficient to induce the
animals to do their duty, the desired result was arrived
at by persuasive scratching of their backs.
Still a few miles farther on, and, situated on the
opposite or northern bank of the river, rose an enormous
and precipitous rock, which at one time must have been
a famous place. The actual summit, towering many
hundreds of feet above the plain, was practically hidden
from view by the remains of ancient temples and
houses. It was too far off and too inaccessible to
visit, so its exact size could not be determined, though
even the part visible was of sufficient extent to have
housed many hundreds of monks. Close to the foot of
the precipice nestled a charming little village, certainly
a much more pleasant spot to inhabit than the dwellings
perched high up on the barren, sun-baked, and windswept
pinnacle.
A short distance farther up the valley stands Rujd
Monastery, balancing on the edge of a steep precipice
rising sheer from the river bank. It is enclosed on the
other sides by high walls, but the whole place looks
poverty-stricken and shabby. The monks are probably
fairly well off, in spite of the dirty and dilapidated
condition of their houses, for the village which lies at
the foot of the hill presents all the signs of prosperity.
The only feature of special interest in the village is
an immense gilt-domed chortan, far and away the
largest that I have seen in Tibet, with the exception of
the huge edifice at Gyantse.
A double span chain bridge crosses the Tsangpo
close by, a mass of masonry in mid stream forming
the central support. Really a wonderful piece of work,
when we consider the primitive tools these people
possess.
Beyond Rujd we could not progress, for great cliffs
rose sheer from the river, entirely blocking the road to
all but goats, though the natives maintained that
coolies could scramble along. We consequently turned
to the south, only too glad to leave these monotonous
valleys, from which no view of the surrounding
country could be obtained. The low-lying district
which lay before us was rich with a verdant green
grass, and the ground in places so boggy that our
passage was much impeded. Innumerable donkeys,
ponies, yaks, goats and sheep simply covered the
ground, whilst perched on all the higher and drier
spots were villages and ruins. The old towers and
gaunt walls of former great buildings showed how
densely populated and how important this place had
once been. All, we were told, had been utterly
destroyed by the Gurkhas during the war of about
fifty - five years .before. The earlier devastations,