With a knowledge of the Mongols, their literature, history, and customs, his hopes of new discoveries would never cease to occupy his mind, and on the completion of his present studies he will direct his views to those higher objects. “Though residing within the British dominions in a country where the inhabitants are morally good, nevertheless Mr. Csoma has to combat against several irksome restraints. The bigotry of the Lamas attached to the monastery, arising from their ignorance of their own faith and of the contents of their beautifully printed works, is a source of much disquietude; while the Wuzeers of the Besarh frontier (Hindoos), under whose care the building is placed, having themselves little interest in an institution which emanates from a region where the cow is killed and eaten, but still keeping up the mummery and superstitious reverence of regard, and protecting and in some degree respecting the house of learning, are very intolerant. Mr. Csoma, it is true, has access to the works in the monastery, but this is not without some suspicious vigilance on the part of both Lamas and Hindoos, who allow but two or three volumes to leave the monastery at a time, while his labours require simultaneous resolution, and wound that self-esteem and independent feeling with which he used so frequently to provoke us at Sabathú. His motives are no doubt the best, but they are too refined for society, and certainly would not be always tolerated with patience, especially amongst strangers. He still refuses every offer of assistance, and will not accept of the most trifling article, though in a situation which ought not to admit of such ceremonious policy. I imagined that the late English papers would afford him amusement, but after a few days, he desired me not to send them, adding, that he would not throw himself open to the imputation of suspicion by attending to anything but that which he had pledged himself to prosecute; he then with great emphasis revived his old and strange ideas of his having been taken for a spy, treated at Sabathú as a fool, caressed and ridiculed at the same time, adding, with much self-complacency, that the world would soon see what he was. The same singular feeling regulates his conduct on every occasion. He is jealous of the least suspicion, even of his habits of life. I asked him if he ever used the spirits made from the grape (which are nearly as good as Scotch whisky). He told me that on one occasion of sickness he had procured a little, but afterwards, conceiving that the people of the country might give him the repute of drinking instead of studying, he resolved never again to touch spirits.