This is rather a sore point with the old
Rajah; and, as he considers the more modern
abode which he now inhabits beneath his
dignity, he prefers going to see any one with
whom he is desirous of having an interview.

Having caused chairs to be placed in the
front of our tents, we advanced to meet the
Rajah, who, dismounting from a large Cabul
horse, joined us, shook hands with us very
cordially, and remained with us for upwards
of an hour. He was a very small and
rather an old man; active and intelligent.
He talked to us about the Goorkha
war, of which he had been a spectator
in the British camp; and he was very
eloquent on Punjab politics, and greatly
praised Lena Singh, whom he described as
"very far in advance of any of his countrymen
in point of humanity, civilisation, and
prudence." The little man told us, amongst
other things, that he was thinking of having
an iron suspension-bridge over the
Bhagaruttee, but that he could not find an engineer;
and that his applications to the Government,
although he was ready to defray every
expense, had not met with any reply. The
present bridge is a sling or swing, and
constructed in the following manner. Two lines
of coir rope, each consisting of a number of
smaller ropes, are suspended from the rocks
on either side of the stream, and apart from
each other about four feet. From these
ropes depend, at intervals of about two feet,
smaller lines or ropes, about three or four
feet deep. These support slight wooden
ladders, the ends of which are lashed firmly
to one another. The whole affair has a very
frail appearance, and at first it requires no
small amount of nerve to step from ring to
ring of the ladder, over that roaring torrent
beneath. Of course, this bridge is only
passable by men. Cattle and mules swim
across the river much higher up, where the
torrent is not so rapid.

We asked the Rajah where he had got his
idea of an iron suspension, and he replied:
"From a picture-book which was given to
me by a gentleman who was out on a shooting
excursion some years ago in these hills."

We stayed two days at Teree, and, despite
the heat, enjoyed ourselves amazingly. Our
next encampment-ground was at a place
called Pon, a march of eleven miles. Our
route at first lay along the south bank of the
Billung River, and then up a deep glen at
the foot of a mountain, whose summit was
some five thousand feet above the level of the
ocean. The monotony of this day's journey
was broken by meeting with another
marriage party, some of whom carried parasols of
evidently Chinese manufacture, and made
out of painted paper! We shot also several
green pigeons—a very different bird from the
green pigeons of the plains, and much better
eating. By-the-by we also met a pilgrim and
his wife on their way to Gungootree, the
source of the Ganges: both of them were
painted and bedaubed after the most
grotesque fashion. The Frenchman took a
sketch of this couple, and I have heard that it
now adorns an album in the possession of the
Empress of the French.

Our next march was to a place called
Tekowlee, where we halted beneath the
shade of some large trees, and near the banks
of a clear stream of water. On one side of
the stream there grew a quantity of wild
mint, some of which we gathered and cooled,
preparatory to using it for " cup." There is a
moderate-sized village near Tekowlee, and a
Gosains' house or monastery, which is
inhabited by a large number of this sect: we
visited, and entered into conversation with
them. The building was composed of a large
square courtyard, surrounded by a range of
two-storied barracks, or rather cells, the
lower story of which is protected by a
verandah. The place was full of men, women,
and children: the Gosains being the only
monastic order who are permitted by their
tenets to marry.

We had been out sixteen days before we
reached Loba, near to which place the
Commissioner of Kumaon resides during the rains
and the autumn. His bungalow is built upon
the spur of a hill of considerable length, and
there is a good quantity of flat ground in the
vicinity. Not far from the bungalow is an
old fort, a Goorkha stronghold, which
commanded the pass leading to Almorah. It is
chiefly celebrated, however, as the place
where Moorcroft and Hearsey were
discovered on their return from the Munsarowar
lake, whither they had gone disguised as
Bairagis; and so well had they sustained their
characters, that they would have returned
undetected, had not a rumour of their attempt
reached the ears of the authorities and
excited their vigilance. They were harshly
treated for some days, but eventually
released on a promise that they would return
direct, and without delay, to the British
territories.

The Commissioner was not at the bungalow
when we arrived. Mr. West, however,
knew him sufficiently well to warrant our
taking possession of it for the day. After a
residence for some time in tents, a house is a
very agreeable change.

On leaving Loba we came upon the
Pilgrim road, constructed by a former Commissioner
of Kumaon to facilitate the progress of
the pilgrims to the sacred places within
the British Himalayas. It was a very
humane project, for many of the unfortunate
pilgrims used formerly—overcome by the
difficulties of the route—to lie and perish by
the way-side. Of these pilgrims we met
swarms—hundreds, if not thousands—and
with some we occasionally stopped to
converse.

Our encamping ground, at which we arrived
at four in the afternoon, was a short distance
from a village called Guniah. Our tents