swiftness of an arrow, filling the caverns with foam and the air with mist. At the very base of this wild region lies the elevated and peaceful valley of Bhotan, vividly green, and shaded by magnificent forests. Another rapid descent of 1000 feet leads to the plain of the Ganges. The Himalaya still maintains great height along the north of Assam, and at the Brahmapootra the parent stem and its branches extend in breadth over two degrees of latitude, forming a vast mountain-knot of great elevation. Beyond this point nothing certain is known of the range, but it or some of its branches are supposed to cross the southern provinces of the Chinese empire, and to end in the volcanic island of Formosa. Little more is known of the northern side of the mountains than that the passes are about 5000 feet above the plains of Tibet. The passes over the Hindoo Coosh, though not the highest, are very formidable: there are six from Cabul to the plains of Turkistan; and so deep and so much enclosed are the defiles, that Sir Alexander Burnes never could obtain an observation of the pole-star in the whole journey from Barmeean till within thirty miles of Turkistan. Most of the passes over the Himalaya are but little lower than the top of Mont Blanc: many are higher, especially near the Sutlej, where they are from 18,000 to 19,000 feet high; and that north-east of Khoonawur is 20,000 feet above the level of the sea—the highest that has been attempted. All are terrific, and the fatigue and suffering from the rarity of the air in the last 500 feet is not to be described. Animals are as much distressed as human beings, and many die; thousands of birds perish from the violence of the wind, the drifting snow is often fatal to travellers, and violent thunderstorms add to the horror of the journey. The Niti Pass, by which Mr. Moorcroft ascended to the sacred lake of Manasa, in Tibet, is tremendous; he and his guide had not only to walk barefooted, from the risk of slipping, but they were obliged to creep along the most frightful chasms, holding by twigs and tufts of grass, and sometimes they crossed deep and awful crevices on a branch of a tree, or on loose stones thrown across. Yet these are the thoroughfares for commerce in the Himalaya, never repaired nor susceptible of improvement from frequent landslips and torrents.