The whole distance through which I had passed from Darjeeling to Lhasa was about two thousand four hundred and ninety miles. In the first place, I started from Darjeeling on the 5th of January, in the 32nd year of Meiji, and passing through Calcutta by railway, came to Segauli; hence also I travelled on foot, and on the 5th of February arrived at Katmandu. The distance between Segauli and Katmandu was about a hundred and fifteen miles. Leaving there on the 7th of March, on the 11th of the same month I came to Pokhra. I left there on the 14th of the same month and on the 16th of April reached Lo Tsarang at the distance of about eighteen miles from the boundary of Tibet. From Katmandu to here, I walked about two hundred and sixty miles. Staying a year there, on the 6th of April of the next year, I left there and for the convenience of entering Tibet, returning a little, I came to a mountain village Malba, situated on the eastern valley of Mount Dhavalagiri. I started from this village on the 12th of June, and passing half way up north of Mount Dhavalagiri at the height of nineteen thousand feet, I proceeded to the north-western plain; and on July 4th I reached the mountain gorge of the province of Hor-to-sho in the north-western plain of Tibet. The distance from Tsarang to Malba is about seventy miles, and that from Malba to the Province of Hor-to-sho one hundred and fifty-five miles. In these places, as I had to pass through thickets and round gorges, I walked more than the actual distance. On December 5th I came to the temple of Tashi Lhunpo, and after staying there a few days, departed. On the 21st of March, in the 34th year of Meiji, just two years and three months after the departure from Darjeeling, I arrived at the Temple of Sera in Lhasa. As I took roundabout roads now and then from Hor-tosho to Lhasa I walked about one thousand two hundred and fifty miles.

When I got up the next morning I found that some fuel had been collected during the night, so I boiled water and made some tea, and at the same time we ate parched wheat-flour, and then departed. That day, as we thought it might be impossible to get parched wheat-flour on the way, we ate plenty of it before starting, and commenced to climb up the mountain. The rain ceased, and the weather was very fine; we climbed up three miles and came to a place covered with bushes of various kinds. Ascending half a mile further, there was a lonely house. It is placed there to detain men of suspicious character coming from Darjeeling, while word is sent to the castle of Nyatong. In that house there was a man and also an old woman. I was told that he went backwards and forwards between the place and Kalenpong on some sort of commercial business. I drank tea there, and as after ascending the high and steep mountain I was somewhat hungry, I ate parched wheat-flour, and again resumed the climb. After ascending about a mile among very short dwarf trees, the path came out upon a snow-mountain called by the name of Jelep-la or Jela. Before advancing over the snow, looking towards the north-eastern sky, across the wide, dark plain appearing and disappearing in the clouds, where stands Lhasa from which I had departed, I bade farewell to Tibet. There is a lake there the water of which was completely frozen over. While ascending, I looked down and saw an immense volume of cloud rising from a vast wide plain moving to and fro in a wide forest, and it was indeed beautiful. On the upper part of it, rhododendron flowers in full bloom were to be seen. Walking for a mile over the snow, I reached the summit which forms the real boundary of Tibet and British India; a step on the other side of the mountain, the people are not governed by Tibetan law.

At that time, at the summit of the mountain, I felt extremely cold; but that feeling of coldness was entirely forgotten in the strong feeling of gratitude for the grace of Bu??ha, in the joy felt for the safe passing of the manifold guard-houses. When I came to myself, I was indeed very cold, but happily the day was bright and sunny, so that I felt warmth more or less even among such snowy mountains. Descending about a mile, I came upon a very good road three feet in width and paved with stones. It was indeed a contrast, for even the idea of such a one is quite unknown in Tibet.

It was said that the year I came there especially large hailstones fell. Hailstones are notable in these regions of snow-mountains, and the hail I saw in Nepal was very large. I dug out some imbedded in the snow, and found many as large as a pigeon’s egg; while it was said that at the time of falling they must have been as large as a hen’s egg.

It is hardly credible that such large stones come down like rain; but I believe it to be true from actually seeing some imbedded ones as large as pigeon’s eggs. Many people coming from Darjeeling and Tomo-Rinchen-gang for trade declare that what I have said about the size of a hailstone is true. It is not seldom here that when hailstones fall in abundance, the passage is stopped even for a month or more.

Now leaving the snowy part of the mountain and descending two miles, we again walked up an ascent of three miles; and descending still three miles more, we arrived at the post-town of Naktang. There were about twenty houses here, which, a long time ago, were constructed as barracks for a soldier’s station, the large ones are at present used as store-houses for woollen goods. As it rained that day, the road was very bad, and I lodged there that night.

In spite of rain falling furiously, we started on June 16th at five o’clock, and descending through a luxuriant forest for thirteen miles, we arrived at Lingtam and stopped there. If the weather had been fine, we could have gone further that day; but it was rainy all the day, and in addition to this, after leaving the Tibetan domain, we had no necessity for being in a great hurry; and the consequence of slow and loitering steps was that we were obliged to stop there. The next day we again descended for about four miles and came to a place where we felt extreme heat which by contrast was almost unbearable. I took off my clothing and, giving it to the servant, walked on only in an underdress; still abundant perspiration moistened my whole body. Going up toward the south-west, we came to Tsom-Takba and stopped there, as the weather was still rainy. The next day, in spite of rain, we walked three miles, and passing over a bridge, we went another three miles, and stopped in the town of Boetong.

This town lies in the centre of a rich and fertile plain among the Himalaya Mountains. Many people of Nepal have immigrated to the neighborhood of this town, and in addition to the old cultivated fields, they have added many rice-fields here and there. Though it is under the dominion of England, and taxes are paid to the Government of British India, most of the people are Nepalese, besides a small number of Sikkim people. Along the line of this road the most delightful thing I saw was the planting of rice-fields in the rain. Though most of the Indian rice is inferior and consequently disagreeable to the taste, yet that produced in this part of the Himalaya Mountains is not different from our Japanese rice either in quality or lustre. This Indian rice, when boiled, gives a very agreeable smell and is very sweet to eat. For the cultivation of it they were planting a rice-field that rainy day.

In this town many Europeans are living, and most of them are engaged in farming. It is a very flourishing post-town containing a fine post-office, a Roman Catholic Church, and a school for poor people connected with it. As I walked through the town and came right under the building of the post-office, a Tibetan gentleman, standing on a veranda and looking at the people passing by, turned his face and stared at me with great surprise.

“Come in, Sir,” said he, calling out to me suddenly in a loud voice.

“No, thank you,” replied I, “I am too busy to enter. I am searching for a house to stop in to-night. Will you be so kind as to lodge me?”

“Any thing will do,” said he, “please come in, Sir.”

“Though I go in,” replied I, “I shall be in great trouble if you do not lodge me.”

“Please come in,” said he, smilingly, “however it may be.”

Thinking it was strange for him to treat me as his intimate friend, I stepped in; and as soon as he saw me, “Do you forget me?” said he, extending his hand, and showing me in every way that he was indeed acquainted with me.

While I was in Darjeeling, he was a teacher of the Tibetan language in the Government High School there; but he was not my instructor. Though he was a teacher of the second class, and not deep in learning, yet he was a man of general knowledge having the power of quick understanding. Of his change of position to be postmaster here I was entirely ignorant. After exchanging our respective accounts of events since we parted, he eagerly asked me how I had come through those vigilant guard-houses without endangering myself. My servant sitting near me, hearing us talking in English, looked almost stupefied. I at once perceived that our conversation would arouse the suspicion of my servant again, and tried to talk in the dialect of Lhasa. As the postmaster knew the dialect of Darjeeling very well, but did not know that of Lhasa, he did not answer me in the latter but consequently talked in English and Tibetan. This, just as I thought, aroused the suspicion which had been happily suppressed since our arrival at the first guard-house. The servant instantly went to the wife of the postmaster and asked her:

“Speaking truthfully, where is my master from?” said the servant.

“He is,” replied the lady, “a Japanese Lama.”

“Where is Japan?” asked the servant eagerly, as he heard me talking English, “is he not an Englishman?”

“No, he is a Japanese,” replied the lady, “Japan is, at present, so strong and powerful that even England looks at it with surprise. Her name, like the rising sun, gleams even to the remotest part of the world. So says my husband, who read it in a newspaper.”

“That is a terrible matter,” said the servant, being frightened almost into taking flight, haggard and pale; “I shall be killed.”

This account of her personal conference with my servant was given to me by the lady afterwards. It seemed to me that my servant almost trembled with fear, as though he expected every moment to lose his life; but I had no time to explain his misunderstanding. I slept that night in a clean and comfortable European bed.