The Zemindars here pay but two rupees a year to the Maharajah,
but it seems a hard case that such hardly-subsisting people should
have to pay anything whatever in such a sterile dreary territory as
they possess.
To-day we came across one solitary mound of the inscribed stones,
probably the last, as we now cross the mountains into Cashmerian
territory again.
To the south of our camp, the road from Ladak through Zanskar joins
the valley, and we half regretted not having risked the chances of
that road; however, it was uncertain whether it was passable, and,
as time was valuable, we had but little option in the matter.
SEPTEMBER 2. - Being Sunday, we had a regular rest, explored the
country, and made the acquaintance of the few Thibetians who inhabited
the villages.
Everywhere there were signs of the invasion of Gulab Singh, some
twenty years ago. Houses in ruins, and forts reduced to dust and
rubbish. To replace these latter, a new fort had been constructed by
Rumbeer Singh, in what appears about the worst possible position in
the entire valley to render it of any use whatever.
The people were busily employed in their fields, pulling and carrying
corn, and treading it out with oxen. A team of six I saw, most
uncomfortably performing this work. They were tied together by the
noses, and so small a piece of ground had they to revolve upon, that
the innermost animal had to go backward continually, while the centre
ones were regularly jammed together by the outsiders. Two deformed
natives were employed in driving this unhappy thrashing machine.
In the evening, the Thanadar's Moonshee came to beg a "razee nama,"
or "letter of satisfaction," which we gave him, together with a
"bukshish," with which he seemed well pleased.
SEPTEMBER 3. - Got up this morning with a peculiarly cold feel, and
started with a fine piercing breeze in our teeth, blowing directly
off the snows.
Our force was augmented to-day by three goats, as portable dairy, and a
party of natives, with three days' supplies, also a guide, for our path
lay over ground neither much frequented nor well known. To-day's has
been the grandest scene of the panorama yet unfolded to us. From the
last halt, no inconsiderable height in itself, we mounted continually
towards the huge white masses of snow, which so lately towered above
us in the distance. Passing the remains of mighty avalanches firmly
fixed across the foaming torrent, we ascended the snow valley by the
side of a perfect mountain of ice and snow, the accumulations of,
possibly, as many years as the world has existed, which had formed
itself immoveably between the mighty mountain's sides.
