At 56 miles, Loi Pa Chan, which for the last 3¼ miles had been frowning down upon us, suddenly ended, and a mile farther we crossed the stream that drains the valley we had been traversing, having fallen only 288 feet in our easy descent from the crest of the pass. We shortly afterwards reached a low spur from the eastern hills, and crossed it to the Huay Pong Pow. We then followed that stream to Pang Pong Pow, and halted for the night. The trunk of a banian-tree not far from the camp was 8 feet in diameter, or more than 25 feet in girth. The ground near the camp is boggy, with a strong smell of sulphur, the earth greasy and slimy, the strata a black shaly rock. The place is a deer-lick, and the caravans of cattle which passed through the camp early the next morning, taking rice to Muang Fang, so enjoyed licking the puddles that they could hardly be driven from the place. These pools are said formerly to have been a great rendezvous for wild cattle and other animals. Many trees in the neighbourhood of the camp were covered with the beautiful blossoms of the Rangoon creeper, and I noticed the single camellia of Burmah growing wild among the grass. On halting for the night, we were so tired and weary that we at once fell upon sardines and cold rice, without waiting for dinner to be cooked, having had a very poor breakfast. When dinner was at length served, I was in bed, and my companions on their way there. The edge was off our appetites; sleep was dulling our senses,—so the boys enjoyed the dinner, while we enjoyed repose. In the morning Mr Martin had a touch of the fever from which he had previously suffered. Dr M‘Gilvary had long been endeavouring to ward off recurring visits of the same enemy by taking quinine in teaspoonfuls. The Shan servants accompanying the missionaries, as well as my men, likewise had it at times, and I alone remained impregnable. I was very thankful for my immunity from it, as otherwise I could not have stood the constant strain upon my attention. Leaving the camp, we crossed a spur to the Huay Pun, and proceeded for a mile up its course, rising 339 feet, to the crest of the pass over the range which links on the Pa-Yat Pa-Yai plateau to the eastern hills. This range of hills separates the waters flowing into the Meh Pam from those flowing into the Meh Ngat. The crest of the pass lies 51 miles from Zimmé, and 2277 feet above the sea. Whilst sitting on a stone taking the height with the boiling-point thermometer, a snake, called Shin Byee in Burmah, wriggled from under it. The men said the bite of the snake was deadly, and that it possessed two heads, one where its tail should be. On using my magnifying-glass I proved to them that this was a delusion, though the shape and marks on the flat end to the tail gave some reason for the general belief. A number of emigrants passed us here on their way to Muang Fang; the women, like good housewives, were carrying their spinning-wheels on their backs.