sacred figures stamped in the clay. The country is divided up into districts, each under its own Jongpen, who is responsible direct to Lhasa or Shigatse and has yearly to send the revenue collected to headquarters. A certain percentage of the crops is collected every year, and in a year of good harvest the Jongpen is able to make a certain amount of money for himself in addition to what he has to send to Lhasa. Our visit to the Kharta Valley was an unexpected windfall for the Kharta Jongpen, as I fancy that much of the money that we paid out to the different villages for supplies or coolie hire eventually found its way into his pocket and was not likely to find its way to Lhasa. This may possibly have accounted for his pleasure in entertaining us and his desire to keep us there as long as possible. The Tibetans, however, everywhere have good manners and are invariably most polite--a pleasant characteristic. Although they are all Buddhists, and accordingly object to the taking of life, they do not in the least mind killing their sheep or their yaks for food, but they objected to our shooting wild sheep or gazelles or wild birds for food. I could have understood this objection better had they been vegetarians and not killed their sheep for eating purposes, but a real vegetarian, except in the strictest monasteries, is very rare in Tibet. There was a great fascination in roaming through the country as we did. It was the fascination of the unknown, this travelling in regions where Europeans had never travelled before, and where they had never even been seen. The people had exaggerated notions of our ferocity, and were full of fears as to what we might be like and as to what we might do. In these out-of-the-way parts they had heard vaguely of the fighting in 1904, and they imagined that our visit might be on the same lines. They imagined, too, that all Europeans were cruel and seized what they wanted without payment. They were therefore much surprised when they found that we treated them fairly and paid for everything that we wanted at very good rates. The Expedition may, I venture to think, take credit to itself for having certainly done a great deal of good in promoting more friendly relations between the Tibetans and ourselves, and in giving them a better understanding of what an Englishman is. Their ignorance of the outside world was at times astounding. Tibetan officials and traders were an exception, but it was seldom that the ordinary Tibetan ever left the valley in which he was born and bred, with the result that except for the wildest rumours, they knew nothing of the outside world. For long-distance journeys, the Tibetans used ambling mules or ponies, which were capable of going long distances and keeping up a speed of about 5 miles an hour. To our idea, the Tibetan saddle with its high wooden framework is very uncomfortable, but on the top of their saddles they would put their bedding, spreading over it a brilliant and often