We were in a great gap between two ranges of mountains, and were merely crossing the undulating ground intervening between them. Here was a freak of nature to be taken advantage of for railway purposes. I had now proved that the water-parting of the Meh Kong and the Meh Nam could be crossed through a gap in the mountains, and that Kiang Hung, at the foot of the Yunnan plateau, could be joined to Bangkok, the capital of Siam, by a railway passing through a series of valleys separated from each other by only undulating ground, which offered no physical obstruction to the carrying out of the work. It now remained to be seen whether an alternative line _viâ_ the valley of the Meh Wung, which would bring Zimmé and Maulmain into nearer connection with the railway, was equally feasible. Descending along the Meh Yu-ek, amongst hillocks and broken ground, we seemed to be passing through the valley of the shadow of death. The forest had a ghastly appearance. Dead bamboos lay like spellicans cast about in every direction, and many had been crushed down by others to the ground, which was carpeted with yellow silvery leaves. The light colour of the bark of the few trees scattered amongst the clumps was strangely in tone with the dead bamboos; and their yellow-green, fresh-sprouted foliage, added to the weird aspect of the scene. One could nearly believe that the pale-blue and yellow butterflies flitting over the path were the souls of human beings in the land of dreams, or on their pilgrimage to a new life. After descending 363 feet in 4 miles, we reached Ban Hai, a hamlet in a forest of noble teak-trees. Near here, willows were growing in the stream-bed, and a caravan of thirty-five laden cattle passed on their way from Muang Peh to Kiang Hai. We continued along the stream for another two miles, and then left it flowing to our right, and crossing a couple of low spurs, descended to and crossed the Meh Ngow. This river at our ford was 1073 feet above the sea, 60 feet broad, and 6 feet deep, with 6 inches of water in its bed. The fall from the crest of the pass to our crossing of the Meh Ngow was only 570 feet in a distance of 8 miles. Three-quarters of a mile farther we halted for breakfast at a house that had been erected for our use in the rice-plain of Ban Koi. We were once again in a cultivated region, and from here to Muang Ngow our path led chiefly through rice-fields and tobacco-gardens. Early the next morning we reached the beautifully wooded city of Muang Ngow, which is situated 93¾ miles from Zimmé, and 798 feet above the sea.