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pieces and thrown into lakes, or exposed on hills for the
kites and crows to devour, as is the case in Tibet.
We passed some curious masses of crumpled chlorite
slate, presenting deep canals or furrows, along which a
demon once drained all the water from the Pemiongchi
spur, to the great annoyance of the villagers; the
Lamas, however, on choosing this as a site for their
temples, easily confounded the machinations of the
evil spirit.
I crossed the Great Rungeet at 1840 feet above the
sea, where its bed was twenty yards in width; a rude
bridge, composed of two culms of bamboo and a handrail,
conducted me to the other side, where we camped
(on the east bank) in a thick tropical jungle, on a
gravel flat, about sixty feet above the river.
I thence proceeded west, following a steep ascent
up a very long spur, dividing the Great Rungeet from
the Teesta. I ascended by a narrow path, accomplishing
2500 feet in an hour and a quarter, walking
slowly hut steadily, without resting; this I always found
a heavy pull in a hot climate.
At about 4000 feet above the sea, the spur became
more open and flat, like those of the Kulhait valley,
with alternate slopes and comparative flats : from this
elevation the view was very fine; the river flowed below,
and a few miles up it was the conical wooded hill
of Tassiding, rising abruptly from a fork of the deep
gorge, crowned with its curious temples and mendongs,
and bristling with chaits; on it is the oldest monastery
in Sikkim, occupying a picturesque and prominent
position. North of this spur lay that of Raklang, with
the temple and monastery of the same name. In front,
looking west across the Great Rungeet, were the monasteries
of Changachelling and Pemiongchi, perched
aloft; and south of these were the flat-topped spurs of
the Kulhait valley, with their villages, and the great
mendong which I had passed on the previous day,
running like a white line down the mountain. To the
north, beyond Tassiding, were two other monasteries,
Doobdee and Sunnook, both apparently placed on the
lower flanks of Kinchinjunga; whilst close by was
Dholing, the seventh religious establishment in sight.
; We halted at a good wooden house to refresh ourselves
with Murwa beer, where I bought a little
puppy, of a breed between the famous Tibet mastiff
and the common Sikkim hunting-dog, which is a variety
of the sorry race called Pariah in the plains. Being
only a few weeks old, he looked a mere bundle of black
fu r; and I carried him off, for he could not walk.
We camped at the village of Lingdam (alt. 5550
feet), occupying a flat, and surrounded by extensive
pools of water (for this country) containing Sweet-flag,
Potamogetón, and duck-weed. I have often met with
such ponds on these terraces, and they are very remarkable,
not being dammed in by any conspicuous barrier,
but simply occupying depressions in the surface.
This being the high road from Tumloong or Sikkim
Durbar (the capital, and Rajah’s residence) to the
numerous monasteries which I had seen, we passed
many Lamas and monks on their way home from
Tumloong, where they had gone to be present at the
marriage of the Tupgain Lama, the eldest son of the