We passed by the foot of Tashi Lunpo, which is built on the lower declivity of a steep hill. The roof of the palace is all of copper-gilt. The building is of dark-coloured brick. The houses of the town rise one above another. Four churches with gilt ornaments are mixed with them. Altogether the town presents a princely appearance. Many of the courts are spacious, flagged with stone, and have galleries running round them. The alleys, which are likewise paved, are narrow. The palace is appropriated to the Lāma and his officers, to temples, granaries, warehouses, etc. The rest of the town is entirely inhabited by priests, who are in number about four thousand. The following is the substance of Mr. Bogle’s account of his interview with the Tashi Lāma on November 8, 1774 (abbreviated from Markham’s Tibet):— In the afternoon I had my first audience of the Tashi Lāma. He is about forty years of age, of low stature, and inclining to be fat. His complexion is fairer than that of most Tibetans, and his arms are as white as those of a European; his hair, which is jet black, is cut very short; his eyes are small and black. The expression of his countenance is smiling and good-humoured. He was upon his throne, formed of wood carved and gilt, with some cushions above it, upon which he sat with his legs folded under him. He was dressed in a mitre-shaped cap of yellow broadcloth, with long bars lined with red satin, a yellow cloth jacket without sleeves, and a satin mantle of the same colour thrown over his shoulders. On one side of him stood his physician, with a bundle of perfumed sandal-wood rods burning in his hand; on the other stood his cup-bearer. I laid the Governor’s presents before him, delivering the letter and the pearl necklace into his own hands, together with a white handkerchief on my own part, according to the custom of the country. He received me in the most engaging manner. I was seated on a high stool covered with a carpet. Plates of boiled mutton, boiled rice, dried fruits, sweetmeats, sugar, bundles of tea, dried sheep’s carcases, etc., were set before me and my companion, Mr. Hamilton. The Lāma drank two or three dishes of tea with us, but without saying any grace, asked us once or twice to eat, and on our retiring threw white handkerchiefs over our necks. After two or three visits, he used to receive me without any ceremony, his head uncovered, and dressed only in the large red petticoat worn by all full monks, red boots, a yellow cloth vest, with his arms bare, and a piece of coarse yellow cloth thrown across his shoulders. He sat sometimes in a chair, sometimes on a bench covered with tiger-skins, and nobody but the cup-bearer present. Sometimes he would walk with me about the room, explain the pictures, or make some remarks upon the colour of my eyes, etc. For, although venerated as God’s vicegerent