CHAPTER V.
View from Mr. Hodgson’s of the snowy mountains—Their extent and
elevation—Deceptive appearance of elevation—Sinchul, view from and
vegetation of—Chumulari—Magnolias, white and purple—•Rhododendron
Dalhousiae, arhoreum and argenteum—Natives of Dorjiling—
Lepchas, origin, tradition of flood, morals, dress, arms, ornaments,
diet—cups, origin and value—Marriages—Diseases—Burial—Worship
and religion—Bijooas—Kampa Rong, or Arratt—Limboos, origin,
habits, language, &c.—Moormis—Magras—Mechis—Comparison of
customs with those of the natives of Assam, Khasia, & c.
T h e summer, or rainy season of 1848, was passed
at or near Dorjiling, during which period I chiefly
occupied myself in forming collections, and in taking
meteorological observations. I resided at Mr.
Hodgson’s for the greater part of the time, in consequence
of his having given me a hospitable invitation
to consider his house my home. The view from his
windows is quite unparalleled for the scenery it embraces,
commanding confessedly the grandest known
landscape of snowy mountains in the Himalaya, and
hence in the world. Kinchinjunga (forty-five
miles distant) is the prominent object, rising 21,000
feet above the level of the observer out of a sea of
intervening wooded hills; whilst, on a line with its
snows, the eye descends below the horizon, to a
narrow gulf 7000 feet deep in the mountains, where
the Great Rungeet, white with foam, threads a tropical
forest with a silver line.
To the north-west towards Nepal, the snowy peaks
of Kubra and Junnoo (respectively 24,005 feet and
25,312 feet) rise over the shoulder of Singalelah;
whilst eastward the snowy mountains appear to form an
unbroken range, trending north-east to the great mass
of Donkia (23,176 feet) and thence south-east by the
fingered peaks of Tunkola and the silver cone of Chola
(17,320 feet), gradually sinking into the Bhotan mountains
at Gipmoochi (14,509 feet).
The most eloquent descriptions I have read fail to
convey to my mind’s eye the forms and colours of
snowy mountains, or to my imagination the sensations
and impressions that rivet my attention to these
sublime phenomena when they are present in reality ;
and I shall not therefore obtrude any attempt of the
kind upon my reader. The latter has probably seen
the Swiss Alps, which, though barely possessing half
the sublimity, extent, or height of the Himalaya, are
yet far more beautiful. In either case the observer
is struck with the precision and sharpness of their
outlines, and still more with the wonderful play of
colours on their snowy flanks, from the glowing hues
reflected in orange, gold and ruby, from clouds
illumined by the sinking or rising sun, to the ghastly
pallor that succeeds with twilight, when the red seems
to give place to its complementary colour, green. Such
dissolving-views elude all attempts at description, they
are far too aerial to be chained to the memory, and