This station serves as a place for the transmission of letters between Phari castle and the castle of Choeten Karpo; that is, a station where the letters received from one place can be handed over to the other. In Tibet, there is no more perfect plan than this for the transmission of letters. In other places, for example, by going twenty or thirty miles letters can be handed in for transmission. Even this is only for letters from the Government to the local office, and not for private correspondence. Consequently in the case of the transmission of private letters, it must be done either by some one in the house or by some hired man.

That night I was allowed to sleep in a comfortable bed. It was the first time since my departure from India that I lay on a European bed. As it was in the rainy season, the next day was also rainy; but having no necessity to stay there, in spite of my servant’s murmurs, we started at five o’clock in the morning. This time we got into a very lonely forest, where numerous trees of enormous size, requiring three or four men to embrace them, were stretching up so close together that the sun could not penetrate. Although this is a part of the Tibetan dominion, yet they could not get timber from here on account of the lack of means of transportation. All the large rivers run towards the south; and in such a country as Tibet, where there is no good means of transportation, it is natural to leave even such splendid and exhaustless forests just as they are. In this forest of about four miles in circumference, there is level ground and a river flowing from a peak of the Phari in Tibet. This river begins with a very narrow stream, but after receiving several small brooks and rivulets it becomes larger and wider as it goes lower and lower down towards the plains. After walking about six miles from Dakarpo, we arrived at the castle of Choeten Karpo.

This Choeten Karpo is not mentioned in any of the works of European authors that I have read. As this castle is of very recent construction, it is possibly not known to foreigners. It is occupied by two or three hundred Chinese soldiers. It seemed that this place was not well-known to the chief local official of Darjeeling; for he enquired of me particularly, when I arrived at Darjeeling, about the castle, its condition and the number of soldiers stationed there.

“It must be well-known to you,” said I, “why should you ask me questions like that?”

“Our secret-service men cannot go there,” replied he, “it is utterly impossible for us to know anything about it.”

I am not sure whether what he said was true or not; but it is a fact that even Tibetans living in Darjeeling seem not to know of the existence of such a castle. The Tibetans are shrewd in money-saving, but at the same time they are so entirely careless that though they see the gate of a castle, they never enquire how many soldiers are stationed there, what they are doing, and for what purpose they have been provided.

There is a passage right under the castle, which I entered without meeting with any rudeness. In it there are the lodgings of the Chinese soldiers, three hundred in number. Though the town is among the mountains it is very prosperous. Some of the soldiers are engaged in hair-dressing, others are selling vermicelli and toilet articles, or making tofu (a soft cream-like substance made from bean-curd). Most of them have wives and children, and are engaged in some suitable occupation. The barrack itself is the town and the soldiers in it are moved here every half-year from Shigatze or Gyangtze. They not only receive a salary from the Chinese Government, but also a sum of money from the Tibetan Government; consequently they live fairly well on their double income.

On ordering our dinner on our arrival at the barracks in this soldier-town, we were abundantly served with boiled rice and various other foods cooked in Chinese style. As the feast principally consisted of pork and yak flesh, my servant ate with gusto. I did not eat the meat, and asked for salted vegetables instead. This was the first time on the journey that I enjoyed pickles such as I had had in Japan.

The castle is strongly constructed, and there are two gates at the centre of a large stone wall which extends to the south along the side of the mountain. On the door of the gate a notice is posted up announcing the daily opening from six o’clock in the morning to the same time in the afternoon. I heard from the neighboring people that except when the gate is opened on the report of a soldier for some urgent need, the notice is observed with strict accuracy, since the people at night might be in danger of their lives from the attacks of wild animals.

We then passed a small bridge, and after ascending about half a mile, and also descending through a forest along a river, we came out on a plain of half a mile in circumference, where beautiful flowers carpeted the ground, and many horses were grazing.

After leaving the plain and passing the bridge we went about half a mile, and arrived at the bridge of Chumbi. It is a large bridge twenty-five yards long and two yards wide, having no railing. At the eastern end of it stands a gate, in front of which there is a small house where a number of soldiers keep watch. Passports have to be handed to these soldiers, and if a man is considered by them a suspicious person, he is sure to be sent back; also it is said that without offering bribes one cannot pass through safely.

As soon as I reached the gate, the soldiers asked me where I was going. As my servant had shown my passport to the chief official, he directed the inferior officials to admit me without any enquiry. This was owing to the fact that it was said in the passport that no impolite treatment was to be accorded to the bearer. I had now passed through two guard-houses without the least hindrance, and must proceed to try for the third. For the new trial I felt a great confidence arising from my strong devotion, as I had passed my first trial with success according to the revelation which I had received in religious meditation.

After descending along a river for two miles and a half we arrived at the barracks of Pimbithang, the third guard-house. This day the rain fell in abundance, and we were so tired that we stopped in a building attached to the barracks. As I heard that there was no necessity for me to be examined here on the next day, I felt I must go to Tomo-Rinchen-gang, in order to obtain a note from the chief official of the guard-house. The note from the last guard-house being taken as a proof of our respectability, we were allowed to pass through the gate of Nyatong castle guarded by Chinese; and after enquiring about and receiving a note from the chief of the castle, the fifth guard-house, I was obliged to return to Pimbithang again. As I heard at Pimbithang that a note can be given only between eleven and half-past eleven o’clock, I had to go to Tomo-Rinchen-gang early the next day; but it seemed almost impossible to finish the matter within one day; it would certainly require three or four days to do so.

If I did nothing at this crisis, I should not only be in the ordinary danger of being overtaken by a pursuer, but as the information to catch such and such a man comes direct to Nyatong and may arrive there at all hours of the night, it might easily be utterly impossible for me to accomplish my object; so I tried to devise means of escaping the impending danger and avoiding trouble. Just at that time the wife of the chief of Pimbithang (a Chinese military officer) came in to receive medical treatment from me. Who brought her to me, and on account of what statement she came to me, I do not know. She was a Tibetan woman, long suffering from hysteria. She was a rare beauty, and had almost unlimited influence over her husband. Military officers are of course entrusted with power to command soldiers; yet in their families, the wives are often the officers and their husbands are ready to obey their command like private soldiers. So much I was told by a soldier, who understood that his chief officer was a greatly henpecked husband.

As she took the trouble to come to me, I examined this patient as she desired. After describing the nature of her disease and the care it needed, I gave her the medicine which seemed most suitable. It gratified her so much that she asked me to receive something as a token of thanks for my having served her. Hearing that I had no desire to take anything from her, she returned home and then came back again bringing with her something wrapped in paper, but this I refused to receive. I told her that as I was to get a passport, I had to go to Nyatong first, to get a certificate to be presented to the guard-house here.

Then I said to her:

“Will you be so kind as to secure the immediate issue of a passport from the chief officer?”

“That can be easily done,” replied she; “though my husband is strict, and never delivers a passport even in case of his own men going out except from eleven to half past eleven o’clock, I will be responsible for it.”

“That is my request,” said I, returning the present in spite of her strong objection to receive it; “and I shall see you again when I return.”

Thanking me again and again for my medical treatment, she returned home with great joy. On the morrow if things in Pimbithang should come out as smoothly and favorably as I wished, everything in Nyatong would be done easily, for the arrangements for it were now made. But I was very anxious about matters at Pimbithang, and when I asked the soldier’s wife where I stopped whether all things would come out as I hoped, I was told that in spite of her husband’s refusal they certainly would, for she had almost unlimited power over her husband.

The next day, June 14th, at three o’clock in the morning, in spite of rain, I left and walked about two miles and arrived at Tomo-Rinchen-gang. Even then day had not dawned and no one was astir, and so I rested a while, the door of every house being fast closed. Happily, the rain presently stopped, and while I stood still near a closed shop doors began to be opened here and there. I asked the people where the guard-house was, and was told that it stood at the end of the village.

The guard-house is a very poor one, having no gate, only a small room in which to keep watch. I went there just at the time when the keeper was getting out of bed.

Telling the keeper my present circumstances, I asked for a note with which I could obtain a passport from the other guard-house. The keeper grumbled out that there had been no previous example of such a request. My servant let slip that his master was a physician in Sera. As soon as the keeper heard this, he asked the servant whether his master was the famous physician of the Dalai Lama or not. When I answered him vaguely and mysteriously as most of the Tibetan gentlemen do, he believed me immediately and gave me a note more readily than I expected.