The table-land of Tibet is only 4000 feet above the sea towards the north, but it rises in Little Tibet to between 11,000 and 12,000 feet. The Kuen-lun, the most southerly of the two diagonal mountain-chains that cross the table-land, begins at the Hindoo Coosh, in latitude 35° 30ʹ, being, in fact, a branch of that chain, and extends eastward in two branches, which surround the lake Tengri-Nor, and again unite in the K’han of eastern Tibet. The most southerly of the two branches, known as the Ice Mountains, or Kara-Korum of the natives, maintains a curved course parallel to the Himalaya, and then bends north towards the Kuen-lun, which pursues a more direct line across the table-land. Chains more or less connected with these form an elevated mountain plain round Lake Koko-Nor, nearly in the centre of the table-land, from whence those immense mountain-ranges diverge, which render the south-western provinces of China the most elevated region on earth. The country of Tibet lying between the Himalaya and the Kuen-lun consists of rocky mountainous ridges, extending from N.W. to S.E., separated by long valleys, in which flow the upper courses of the Brahmapootra, Sutlej, and Indus. According to Mr. Moorcroft, the sacred lake Manasa, in Great Tibet, and the surrounding country, is 17,000 feet above the sea, which is 1240 feet higher than Mont Blanc. In this elevated region wheat and barley grow, and many of the fruits of Southern Europe ripen. The city of H’Lassa, in eastern Tibet, the residence of the Grand Lama, is surrounded by vineyards, and is called by the Chinese the “Realm of Pleasure.” There are some trees in this country; but the ground in cultivation bears a small proportion to the grassy steppes, which extend in endless monotony, grazed by thousands of the shawl-wool goats, sheep, and cattle. There are many lakes in the table-land: some in Ladak contain borax—a salt very useful in the arts, found only here, at Monte Cerboliti in Tuscany, and in one of the Lipari islands. In summer the sun is powerful at mid-day, the air is of the purest transparency, and the azure of the sky so deep that it seems black as in the darkest night. The rising moon does not enlighten the atmosphere, no warning radiance announces her approach, till her limb touches the horizon, and the stars shine with the distinctness and brilliancy of suns. In southern Tibet the verdure is confined to favoured spots; the bleak mountains and high plains are sternly gloomy—a scene of barrenness not to be conceived. Solitude reigns in these dreary wastes, where there is not a tree, nor even a shrub to be seen of more than a few inches high. The scanty, short-lived verdure vanishes in October; the country then looks as if fire had passed over it, and cutting dry winds blow with irresistible fury, howling in the bare mountains, whirling the snow through the air, and freezing to death the unfortunate traveller benighted in their defiles.