of magnificent pines. Being in a hollow, and having a vast catchment-area of encircling rock, there ought to have been water in plenty; but here, as elsewhere, the previous ten months of drought had dried up ponds and the hidden sources of springs. That night was spent miserably enough. Sleep visited few. Each man kept turning his body round and round, like a joint on a spit before the kitchen fire, according as the part affected felt frozen or roasted. A happy mean betwixt heat and cold was impossible, because one had to lie on the lee side of a log-fire or run the chance of being roasted to death or suffocated. Towards morning men dozed off, and the sun was well up before the thawing process was sufficiently advanced to let the most active prepare breakfast.

The inner man warmed and renovated, the northern peak (11,300 feet), locally called Ubashta Tzuka, or Juniper Point, from a presumably lucus a non lucendo reason, was scaled, and found to be quite easy walking. Though the view disclosed was vast, commanding an area of more than 40,000 square miles, it was disappointing. On all sides, except directly southwards along the dorsal ridge of the main range, which was black with pineforests, the country looked like a crumpled sheet of brown paper, with here and there a glistering atom of mica on it, indicative of water. However, the surveyor was satisfied. He managed to "shoot" all his points, and that was the main thing. That night was spent much as the former one, and next evening, towards sunset, the Pazai Bivouac was reached once again. There, a mile below, shone the white tents of the standing camp, with all the luxuries it contained -water to wash in, the steaming stewpan with its savoury contents, and the delicious certainty of a

sound sleep at night. Some went down at once, but the majority had to stand fast. The indefatigable R.E. major, balked of placing his triumphant theodolite on Solomon's own particular seat, insisted upon the necessity of a good base-line, and therefore of a southern as well as a northern station. He had his way as usual; and next morning, strongly escorted, reshot all his points from a suitable peak to the south of our bivouac. Whilst he was so employed, the sepoys both warmed and amused themselves by lighting large bonfires. A herd of markhor-the chamois of the locality-seemed in no way disconcerted at our noisy intrusion upon their solitudes; but grazed on unconcernedly immediately below, until they came so near that one could have dropped a stone on to them. Their confidence was not misplaced, as, had a volley been fired at them, the picket at the Pazai Bivouac might have been disturbed; and had the signaller there flashed down to the General, 'Heavy firing in survey direction," some one would have got a wigging which the present of a haunch of venison might not have averted. About noon a cloud was observed to the south, an unusual sight for us. It seemed to be in a hurry to deliver some message with which it was charged. It sailed along towards us, skipping from peak to peak, and leaving the summit of each covered with its whitest notepaper. It reached us in time, and delivered its message in the same polite way, softly, silently. The message was easily read. All mountain - climbers know it and obey. It ran-"Time up; you must vacate my premises.' did so. The indefatigable major shut up his umbrella and grudgingly grumbled forth: "I have done. It's a pity, though, I missed two points over Quetta."

We

The survey reconnaissance from the Takht was over. None of us were sorry. We hastened down, and, without reluctance, turned our backs on Solomon's Throne and all the wild glory of its surroundings, the long grim valley, with its ghostly silence, its myriads of pines, its deep fissures, its fantastic ridges, and its rocky pinnacles on either hand. All hurried back to the standing camp, to wash, to eat, to sleep, to feel jolly over arduous work well done. The genial old General had a cheery word for all those whom he could recognise; for four days and nights spent in high altitudes, sleeping in the smoke of log-fires in innocence of soap and water, had so begrimed some of his officers, that the fairskinned Englishman's complexion was hardly distinguishable from that of his Asiatic brother, the hardy patient sepoy of Northern India. The rest is soon told. We were all impatient to get back to civilisation again. Bhoosa-laden camels no longer kept the rearguard out till near midnight. Both bhoosa and other supplies were finished now; but we met some fresh supplies on the way, escorted by a motley contingent of 300 dirty, hungry-looking Shiranis. Our luck hitherto had been great. It could not fail us now. If rain fell before we were through that forbidding Zao defile, we might yet have all that weary work of roadmaking to go through again, and be detained on the wrong side of the pass until we had eaten out our fresh stores of flour and corn. Luck, however, stuck to us. No rain fell. On December 5th last, we re-entered British territory, and two days afterwards the troops marched back into cantonments all travel-stained, many shoeless, and

most tattered as to their knickerbockers. Neither shoe-leather nor human skin nor woven texture of the loom had been proof against the sharp incisiveness of the jagged limestone rocks of the Takht.

The expedition was a success. The proverbial iqbál (good fortune) of the Sarkar (Government) carried us through without any serious check. When we started we were heavily handicapped. The chances of opposition in the Zao defile

of rain rendering it impassable after we had placed ourselves in the further side, of exhaustion of supplies, and of the drying up of the Pazai spring-were all contingencies, any one of which might have greatly delayed progress, or even caused total failure, but none of these happened. The season was against us,-that was our only piece of bad luck. Had the expedition been ordered for this year instead of last, we should have been in clover. This cold weather the most barren hills in the most arid tracks of the Suliman Mountain and regions beyond are knee-deep in grass. The rainfall of the late hot weather has been heavy, well distributed, and general. Towards the end of January last, the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab marched to Dera Ismail Khán, and held a durbar there. Amongst those introduced were the sectional heads of the Shirani tribe and Abdullah Khán, the Nasar leader, who has been mentioned several times in this paper. The former were feasted and commended for services faithfully rendered, and the latter was honoured both with a handsome robe of honour and a chair.

So ended our excursion, which may justly be regarded as a remarkable episode in the history of India.

"HENCE it comes to pass that when men return home [from Hang-chow] they say they have been to the City of Heaven, and their only desire is to get back thither as soon as possible." Thus wrote Marco Polo. The modern Chinaman, breathing the same enthusiastic admiration for the most beautiful city in Eastern Asia, says, "See Hang-chow and die ;" and unless we are to suppose that every traveller who has visited the town has been a victim to hallucinations, there are few spots on the surface of the earth which surpass in bright beauty the city and neighbourhood of Hang-chow. Earth, sky, and water there combine to form one of the most lovely pieces of landscape-gardening on a gigantic scale that it is possible to imagine; while the coloured roofs of the yamun and pagodas, the countless bridges and splendid temples of the city, present objects of man's art which are not unworthy of their natural surroundings. Even the wondrous beauty of the lake which washes the western wall of the city, is held to be heightened by the temples, palaces, and pavilions which adorn the islands scattered over its surface; while all around it, in the words of the Venetian traveller, which are as true now as they were in the thirteenth century, erected beautiful palaces and mansions, of the richest and most exquisite structure that you can imagine, belonging to the nobles of the city."

are

On summer evenings it is the

-Merchant of Venice.

habit of these noble citizens to take their pleasure on the lake in barges, which reflect in their bright decorations and luxurious fittings the meretricious beauty of their surroundings. In such a galley, one glorious evening in early autumn, the magistrate of Hangchow was taking his ease at the close of a hard day's work, and by contact with the fresh breezes of heaven, was seeking to rid himself of the taint of chicanery, bribery, and intrigue which infected every nook and corner of his yamun. His compagnon de voyage was a Mr Tso, an old resident at Hang-chow, and one in whose judgment the magistrate placed much confidence. Being rich and independent, he could afford to hold his own opinions, even when they clashed with those of his present host; and accustomed as the magistrate was to the society of toadies, it was refreshing to find a man who did. not hesitate to contradict him to his face. The evening was one rather for still enjoyment than for much talking, and for some minutes not a word had been spoken between the friends, when, on rounding a point in the lake, the boat sailed into view of the house and grounds, famed in local history as being the most beautiful among the beautiful, and as having descended in the Ts'èng family from father to son through countless generations.

"Well," said the magistrate, after gazing long and admiringly at the landscape, "if I were not the magistrate of Hang-chow, I would

be Mr Ts'èng. What an enviable lot his is young, rich, talented, the husband of a charming wife, if report speaks truly, and the owner of such a lovely house and gardens as those yonder. That willow clump is just the spot where Su Tungp'o would have loved to have written sonnets; and that mass of waving colour is enough to make Tsau Fuhing rise from his grave and seize his paint-brush again."

"I don't deny," replied Mr Tso, "that Ts'èng's lot has fallen to him in pleasant places. But though I should much like to exchange possessions with him, nothing would induce me to exchange personalities. He never seems really happy. His is one of those timid and fearful natures which are always either in the depths of misery or in the highest of spirits. He is so sensitive that the least thing disturbs him; and he is so dependent on outside influences, that a smile or a frown from Fortune either makes or mars him. And then, between ourselves, I have my doubts as to his scholarship. It is true that he passed his B.A. examination with honours, but it did so happen that his uncle was the chief examiner on the occasion; and though I don't charge either uncle or nephew with anything underhand, yet my son tells me that others are not so charitable."

And

"You are all, I think, hard on our friend," said the magistrate. "I don't know much of him, but I have always heard him spoken of as a man of learning and ability. However, I have written to invite him to my picnic on the lake tomorrow, and we will then try him at verse-making, and see what he is really made of."

That the magistrate's admiration for the Ts'èng gardens was fully justified, every admirer of brilliant colouring would readily admit.

Indeed no fairer prospect could be imagined, and as the autumn sun sent its slanting rays through the waving branches of the willows and oaks, and added lustre to the blood-red leaves of the maples, it was difficult to suppose that anything but peace and content could reign in so lovely a spot.

But Tso was not far wrong in his estimate of Ts'èng's character; and in addition to the bar to happiness presented by its infirmities, there was one dire misfortune which took much of the brightness out of his life. Though he had been married six years he had but one child, and that a daughter. It was true that he was devotedly fond of the little Primrose, as he called her, but nothing could make up to him for the failure of a son to carry on the succession of his name and fortune, and to continue the worship at the family graves.

At the very moment that the magistrate and his friend were passing down the lake, Ts'èng and his wife, Golden-lilies, were sitting in a pavilion, which stood in the midst of the flower- garden, surrounded by a profusion of blue hydrangeas, China asters, pomegranates, citrons, jasmines, peonias, honeysuckles, and other flowers indigenous to the favoured regions of Central China, watching Primrose chasing a curly-coated puppy along the crooked paths as well as her poor little cramped feet would allow her, and trying to catch the leaves which were beginning to sprinkle the earth with specks of every hue; and they were still so employed when a servant handed a letter to Ts'èng, who, recognising from the envelope that it was from the magistrate, opened it with an expression of nervous anxiety. His trepidation, however, turned into pleasure, as he read as follows:

"With great respect I beg to invite you to-morrow at noon to the still clear waters of unmeasurable depth, to enjoy the delights of poetry and the wine-cup. As our galley shall glide through the crystal waves of the lake, we will watch the floating leaves strike her gentle sides; and when we have exhausted our songs, and drained the cup of our delights, we will turn our prow towards the shore."

This invitation was one of those smiles of fortune which had a strangely exhilarating effect on Ts'èng's variable temperament, and he hurried off to his study in the highest spirits to accept it.

"Reverently," he wrote, "I return answer to your jade-like epistle. What can surpass the calm beauty of the lake by moonlight or the tragic aspect of its waves in storm and rain? Your honour having deigned to command my presence on your stately boat, I, as in duty bound, will seize whip to follow you. My paltry literary attainments you will, I fear, find infinitely deficient; and I am much afraid that I shall weary you with my efforts to express in verse my admiration for the mountains and lake."

The day of the magistrate's picnic opened bright and fine, and with commendable punctuality Ts'èng and his fellow-guests assembled at the landing-place, to which usually dreary spot their silk and satin robes and highly coloured skull-caps gave an unwonted air of gaiety. The last to arrive was the host, who, on dismounting from his sedan, bowed collectively and repeatedly to his friends, lifting his joined hands to his forehead as if in supplication, and then bending low in an attitude of humble adoration. His twelve guests returned his saluta

VOL. CXXXVII.-NO. DCCCXXXI.

tion with supple knees and effusive tokens of respect. These ceremonies accomplished, the whole party embarked on the barge. The vessel was one of the best of its kind, but was a bark to brook no mighty sea." The two masts were innocent of sails, and were burdened only with flags, setting forth in large character the rank and titles of the magistrate. The forepart was decked over, and formed the abode night and day of the crew. Abaft this forecastle was an open space, extending to midships, where arose a large and luxuriously furnished deck-house. The window-frames were prettily painted and adorned with woodcarving, while at the portal were suspended painted-glass lanterns, from which hung fringes and tassels. Inside, chairs, tables, and a divan afforded abundant accommodation; and round the room were ranged stands on which stood rare and curiously trained plants in costly porcelain pots.

At the word K'aich'uen ("unmoor the ship"), given by the magistrate, the crew, with the help of a crowd of idlers on the wharf, launched the vessel into the deep. The island to which they were bound was about a mile from the shore, and thitherwards the crew, with that happy absence of all signs of hurry which belongs to orientals, to whom telegraphs and railways are unknown, impelled the craft by slow and deliberate strokes of their long sweeping oars. On landing, the magistrate led the way to a Buddhist temple which stood on a platform of rocks overlooking the lake. No more appropriate spot could possibly have been chosen for the occasion. The view over the still waters of the lake, dotted here and there with verdure-clad islets of every shape, was indescribably

H