west side of the valley, the first I had met with that descended
nearly to the river, during the whole course of the Teesta.

Five miles further on we arrived at the tents of the Phipun, whose
wife was prepared to entertain us with Tartar hospitality:
magnificent tawny Tibet mastiffs were baying at the tent-door, and
some yaks and ponies were grazing close by. We mustered twelve in
number, and squatted cross-legged in a circle inside the tent, the
Soubah and myself being placed on a pretty Chinese rug. Salted and
buttered tea was immediately prepared in a tea-pot for us on the mat,
and in a great caldron for the rest of the party; parched rice and
wheat-flour, curd, and roasted maize* [Called "pop-corn" in America,
and prepared by roasting the maize in an iron vessel, when it splits
and turns partly inside out, exposing a snow-white spongy mass of
farina. It looks very handsome, and would make a beautiful dish for
dessert.] were offered us, and we each produced our wooden cup, which
was kept constantly full of scalding tea-soup, which, being made with
fresh butter, was very good. The flour was the favourite food, of
which each person dexterously formed little dough-balls in his cup,
an operation I could not well manage, and only succeeded in making a
nauseous paste, that stuck to my jaws and in my throat. Our hostess'
hospitality was too _exigeant_ for me, but the others seemed as if
they could not drink enough of the scalding tea.

We were suddenly startled from our repast by a noise like loud
thunder, crash following crash, and echoing through the valley.
The Phipun got up, and coolly said, "The rocks are falling, it is
time we were off, it will rain soon." The moist vapours had by this
time so accumulated, as to be condensed in rain on the cliffs of
Chomiomo and Kinchinjhow; which, being loosened, precipitated