from India to Lassa. We unfortunately had to take our bodies there, and for the human body Tibet and Sikkim, through which we had to pass on the way into Tibet, are at certain seasons anything but attractive. You, however, need go there in mind only, and for the mind I do not know, in the whole realm of nature, any greater glories than Sikkim and Tibet afford. At the very outset of our travels was the sight which in all the world I consider the supreme-the view of Kinchenjunga from Darjiling, described by many travelers before, but by none better than by Mr. Douglas Freshfield in his recent book on this region. We had then to pass through as superb tropical forests as are anywhere to be met with, and emerging onto the high Tibetan tableland it was our good fortune to live for a month in full view of the magnificent panorama of 150 miles of the highest peaks in the Himalayas, with the loftiest mountain in the world as the culminating object. Lastly, we had ever before us in the dim mysterious distance the Sacred City, of which so little was known, and entrance to which was barred by every obstacle which man and nature could raise; and while my military companions had constantly to think of how best to overcome the resistance we might encounter, we of the political service had continually with us the earnest desire and the ambition to lessen by all our powers of reasoning and persuasion the military resistance, and above all so to impress the people who were now first making our acquaintance, that on our departure their disposition toward us should be one of friendliness rather than hostility, and that they should no longer look upon us as people to be roughly and rigidly excluded, but on the contrary respected.and welcomed.

What more inspiring task could any men be intrusted with? And while this is not the place to speak of the military and political work of the mission, I may at least say that our objects were attained, and I may express my firm conviction that from this time onward all European travelers will be the gainers for what the British mission to Lassa did in 1904. One only evil geographical result I foresee. This society will have one less destination for the adventurous explorers of Great Britain, and the Sven Hedins of the future, like a fast-expiring race, will be driven back and back till they finally vanish from the earth amid the arctic snows. But for this misfortune not we only are to blame, but also and chiefly one of your own gold medalists, the great Viceroy of India, to whose initiative the whole enterprise was due and without whose constant support it could scarcely have been brought to a conclusion so disastrous for future explorers.

Our start from Darjiling in June, 1903, was miserable enough. The monsoon was just bursting, the rain was coming down in cataracts, and all was shrouded in the densest mist. Few knew of the enterprise upon which I was embarking, but a little knot of strangers who had assembled in the porch of the hotel had got an inkling and

shouted "Good luck!" as I rode off, covered with waterproofs, into the mist to join my companions, Mr. White and Captain O'Connor, in Sikkim. And detestable though the rain was, there was still a large surplus of joy in riding through those wonderful Sikkim forests, day after day seeing fresh marvels of forest growth or flowery beauty. The mountain sides were everywhere a wealth of tropical vegetation, rich and luxuriant. And here under the shade of the mighty giants of the forest grew the stately tree ferns, often 40 or 50 feet in height, with fronds 10 or 12 feet long. All were in bright fresh foliage, and besides ferns of every graceful form and of the subtlest delicacy of tracery were variegated colored plants, like calladiums, and closely connecting all together and festooned from tree to tree were creepers of every size, from the great elephant creeper, whose leaves resembled elephant's ears, to light trailing vinelike tendrils lightly strung from bough to bough; while here and there, as some bright surprise, the eye would light upon the most perfect orchid, or other flowery marvel, which brought one to a halt in an ecstasy of enjoyment. Nor should I omit to mention the brilliant butterflies glinting past on every side. Seventeen different kinds did I count in the space of 200 yards in the Teesta Valley; and in few other places in the world are to be found such a variety of rare butterflies, so many different orchids, and such a wealth of trees and flowers as in Sikkim. There are, I believe, over 600 different orchids alone to be found here and over 60 separate kinds of rhododendron.

Fain would I dwell longer on the attractions of this wonderful country, but it is with Tibet itself that we are chiefly concerned to-night, and thither I must without delay transport you. Just cross one pass and all is changed. On the far side of the Kongra-lama Pass not a tree is to be seen. If in some secluded nook a plant a foot high is met with, it is a curiosity. In place of the deep-cut valleys of Sikkim there are great plains 10 or 12 miles wide. The sky is cloudless, and the view extended over many and many a mile. Here at Khamba Jong Mr. White had laid out a camp, and here we spent many delightful months, doing our best to bring to reason a people nearly as obstinate as ourselves, and between whiles making roving expeditions to distant valleys-geological investigations with Mr. Hayden, of the geological survey; botanical trips with Doctor Prain, of the Botanical Gardens in Calcutta; natural history expeditions with Captain Walton, I. M. S.; every day and every hour enjoying the charming summer climate, and, above all, the unrivaled panorama of the mighty Himalayas at the very culminating point of their grandeur, where all the loftiest peaks in the world were majestically arrayed before us. Captain Ryder, known to you for his journey in China, surveyed and measured all this wonderful region, and will,

I trust, before long give you full particulars of his surveys. But who will ever be able to adequately describe the fascination of that glorious range of mountains? From sunrise to sunset the days were a continual delight. As I looked out of my tent in the early morning, while all below was still wrapped in a steely gray, far away in the distance the first streaks of dawn would be just gilding the snowy summits of Mount Everest, poised high in heaven as the spotless pinnacle of the world. By degrees the whole great snowy range would be illuminated and shine out in dazzling, unsullied whiteness. Then through all the day it would be bathed in ever-varying hues of blue and purple till the setting sun clothed all in a final intensity of glory, and left one hungering for daylight to appear again.

And all was rendered doubly interesting from the history of its geological past, which Mr. Hayden was able to describe to me. He was indeed enraptured with the district from the geological standpoint, and a bed of fossil oysters he discovered there had more fascination for him than Lassa itself. He was able, from the oysters, to accurately determine the age of the hills in this part of Tibet. According to him they were "recent "-that is to say, not more than two or three million years old, and the main axis of the Himalayas was thoroughly modern, perhaps not more than a few hundreds of thousands of years old. In what to geologists are really ancient times Tibet was below a sea which washed around the base of the Himalayas a mighty granite ridge which is constantly being protruded upward from the interior of the earth and ever being worn away by the snowfall on its summit. Never have I been able to see nature at work on such a mighty scale as here, and when the scientific results of Mr. Hayden's work in this region have been thoroughly investigated I feel sure they will prove of the highest interest and value.

The mission remained at Khamba Jong from July 7 to December 6, but long before the latter date we had discovered that our political objects would never be obtained until we advanced farther into the country. A move on to Gyantse was accordingly ordered, and, as a considerable body of troops under the command of General Macdonald was to escort the mission, the line of advance was changed onto the Chumbi route.

Winter was now on us, and the difficulties which General Macdonald and his troops had to contend with can hardly be realized in England. But not even the rigors of a Tibetan winter were able to stop the advance of the little force of British and Indian troops.

Early in December we crossed the Jelap la and descended into the Chumbi Valley. At Yatung, the trade mart established under the old convention, a wall had some years ago been erected to exclude our trade, and beyond this our traders had so far never been allowed to

pass. As we debouched on a bright frosty morning from the pine forest in which we had encamped for the night, we saw this wall built right across the road and high up the mountain side on either hand. Whether we should have to fight our way through or whether the Tibetan general would respond to the arguments I had used the previous day and gracefully allow us through had yet to be proved, and General Macdonald used every military precaution. But to our relief we saw the great door in the tower, standing open, and we were soon passing peaceably through the gate of Tibet, never, I hope, to be closed against us again.

We then emerged on to the main Chumbi Valley, which, though not wide and open like the valleys we afterwards saw in Tibet proper, is decidedly less steep and narrow than the Sikkim Valley. Both in the valley bottom and on the hillsides there was room enough for comfortable villages and cultivated fields. The people were very well to do, and, what was more satisfactory from our point of view, decidedly well disposed. They soon showed themselves to be keen traders, and must have made large fortunes out of us during last year. They are not true Tibetans, but are called Tomos. Nor is their valley, which is on the Indian side of the watershed, considered a part of Tibet proper, which is looked upon as extending only as far as the mouths of steep gorges we a few days later passed through in the upper part of the valley. The rainfall is only about half that of Darjiling, and the climate in general much superior.

The mission remained three weeks in Lower Chumbi, while military preparations for a further advance were being made, and then in the very depth of winter, on January 8, we crossed the Tang-la, 15,200 feet high, on the Tibetan plateau again. Never shall I forget that day. Reveille sounded at the first streak of dawn, and as I looked out of my tent the very spirit of frost seemed to have settled on the scene. The stars were shooting out sharp, clean rays from the clear steely sky. Behind the great rugged peak of Chumalhari the first beams of dawn were showing out, but with no force yet to cheer or warm, and only sufficient light to make the cold more apparent. Buckets of water were, of course, frozen solid. The remains of last night's dinner were a hard, solid mass. The poor Sikhs were just crawling out of their tents, so shriveled with the cold it looked as though if they shriveled much more there would be nothing left of them. The thermometer stood at 18° below zero, or just 50° of frost, and though this is not considered much in Canada and Siberia, and I dare say those who have just returned from the Antarctic would consider it pleasantly warm, I should remind you that 50° of frost at a height of 15,000 feet above sea level is a very different thing from 50° of frost on the sea level. At 15,000 feet where the effort of breathing is a continual drain upon one's strength, the mere weight

of the heavy clothes one has to wear in cold weather is a sufficient strain in itself. Any additional effort exhausts one immediately. And if it tries us Europeans, who are more or less inured to cold, how much more distressing must it be to the natives of India, and that they were able to march 15 miles across the pass that day and spend the rest of the winter, as they had to, immediately on the other side, at a height of but little under 15,000 feet, is, I think, a striking testimony to their powers of endurance and the high spirit which prevails among them. Colonel Hogge and the Twenty-third Pioneers most willingly faced this ordeal, and by this act of endurance proved once and for all to the Tibetans that their country was no longer inaccessible to us, even in the depth of winter.

Here at Tuna more fruitless parley with the Tibetans ensued. They paid one or two visits to me, and once I rode over with Captains O'Connor and Sawyer to see them amid their own surroundings, to gauge their capacity, and to estimate the strength and direction of the various influences at work among them. It became sufficiently evident to us that the real control of affairs was in the hands of the Lassa lamas, three of whom-one from each of the three great monasteries at Lassa-were present on the occasion. The four generals whom we then met were amiable and polite enough. They repeated by rote the formula, "Go back to the frontier." But the impetus to obstruct came from the three lamas, who, with scowls on their faces, remained seated on the ground, showing not the slightest signs of civility or ordinary politeness, and instigating the generals to detain us in the Tibetan camp till we would name a definite date for withdrawal. When I think of their rabid fanatical obstruction on that occasion and compare it with the almost cordial reception we subsequently had in all the great monasteries and in the most sacred shrines before we left Lassa, I can not help feeling that we went a long way toward breaking down that barrier of exclusion which, set up by the lamas for their own selfish ends, has kept away from us a people who, when left to themselves, showed every inclination to be on friendly terms with us and indulge their natural instinct for trading. But parleying with the Tibetans occupied only an insignificant part of my time at Tuna, and I had ample leisure to enjoy the magnificent natural scenery around us. Immediately before us was an almost level and perfectly smooth gravel plain, which gave a sense of space and freedom, and on the far side of the plain, 10 or 12 miles distant, rose the superb range of mountains which forms the main axis of the Himalayas and the boundary between Tibet and Bhutan. They were an unceasing joy to me, and the sight of them alone was ample reward for all the hardships we had to endure. The sun would strike our tents at about 7 in the morning. The sky would generally then be cloudless save for a long soft wisp of gauze-like haze, and perhaps