The next day I arrived in the rain at Kalenpong, a distance of fifteen miles. Kalenpong is a thriving town situated some thirty miles east of Darjeeling, across a large valley and on a little lower level. Though a cheap kind of goods forms the greater proportion of its business, the total amount of trade carried on there is said to exceed that of Darjeeling, for the merchants from Tibet, Sikkim, and Bhutan generally exchange their goods here. As in Darjeeling, many foreigners live here; Tibetans, Hin?us, Sikkimese, Bhutanese, Nepalese, and Europeans may all be found. There are also large protestant churches, schools, hospitals, Bu??hist temples, and smaller places of worship of various other religions. In Kalenpong there lives a Tibetan named Pu-chung, who moved here from Shigatze, where he had been a priest; but after his removal to this town he became a merchant and is now in good standing in his new way of living. It was to this man that my baggage had been directed through the kindness of the Chinese druggist Thien-ho-thang. As stated before, it was put under the care of a Chinese officer who was to carry it, together with the allowance to the Chinese soldiers, as far as Tomo-Rinchen-gang, whence it was to be trusted to some Chinese servants and to be brought to Kalenpong. Therefore when I came to Pu-chung I expected to receive it and start again directly, but I found that it had not yet arrived, so I had to wait.

When I arrived at his house, the host took me for a Tibetan and treated me as such, but after some time he asked my servant who I was, and my servant said that he knew nothing about me except that I was called “Japan Lama”. Pu-chung came to me and told me what he heard from the servant, and asked whether I was the Japanese Lama who had been at Darjeeling, telling me at the same time that there was no need of concealment now that I was at Kalenpong. I answered that there was no concealment, for it had already been discovered at the post-office of Boeton, and I asked him what my servant was thinking about me and himself. Pu-chung informed me how surprised my servant was, and how pale he turned when the host told him that the Japanese Lama must have been an intruder into the Forbidden Land, and how he could not even eat the whole day from fear of the punishment he would receive when he got back for meddling with me. Poor fellow! I had to do something for him. If he was anxious to return to his wife, who was pregnant at that time, and to his children (of whom he had two) he must be sent back; but if he was too much afraid of punishment to go home, it might be better for him to stay and find some way of living at Kalenpong or Darjeeling, and then his family must be sent for; I was willing to help him to do this. Whichever he might choose he must settle it himself. So I told Pu-chung to go and ask my servant which he would prefer.

After a while my servant came to me accompanied by the host, and requested me to divine for him by the art of ‘Eki’ whether or not he should suffer if he were to go back to Lhasa. This request I refused, because of his connexion with me. Were he entirely a stranger to me I might try ‘Eki,’ but he was my servant; if ‘Eki’ were in favor of his staying there, it might be suspected that I kept him for my own advantage; if on the contrary, my ‘Eki’ predicted that it was better to return home, he might take me as anxious to get rid of him. So I told him plainly what I thought, and advised him to go to some noted Lama in the neighborhood and get his advice on the subject. He would not listen to me, and demanded my judgment again and again. At last I firmly refused, saying that as there was no necessity to depend on ‘Eki’ now that I was out of Tibet, I should never do it again even if any one else applied to me. Seeing my strong determination he went out. After a while he came back and told me the judgment of a Lama was in favor of his returning home. Thereupon I gave him thirty-five rupees, some old clothes and provisions enough to carry him over the barriers, and so sent him away. He was to go by the short road of the Peach Valley, and he seems to have returned home safely and also to have escaped punishment, as I heard nothing more, though I inquired after him afterwards while I was in Nepal.

Four or five days passed after his starting, yet the Chinese to whom I had entrusted my baggage did not come. I began to wonder about the cause of the delay; even if he were stopped at a barrier, there could be no arrest of the luggage. So it ought to be at Tomo at least, but I heard nothing from Tomo for seven days. On the eighth day, I met with a merchant from Tomo-Rinchen-gang and was told that there had been two Chinese with several Tibetan coolies and about twenty horses and mules coming south, but the road being very bad owing to the recent rains, three of the horses slipped into a river and were killed, losing all the loads on their backs, which consisted of musk and silver coins. My anxiety still further increased when I heard that the horses that dropped into the river belonged to the bigger Chinese of the two, for I remembered that the Chinese who took charge of my goods was the bigger one. Ten days passed, but nothing but similar tidings were to be heard. At last I was almost in despair, when on the morning of the eleventh day I heard of my goods, and that night both the Chinese made their appearance and to my great joy, I received my luggage at their hands. I paid thirteen rupees as freight from Tomo to Kalenpong.

It was the first day of July when I received my baggage, and on the next day I left Kalenpong. After about ten miles descent I came to the river Tista, where an iron bridge of European style a hundred and fifty feet long was laid across. The bridge has no intermediate supports, probably because the river is too rapid to allow of them. From the Siliguri station by the river side, a bullock-cart way runs by a very roundabout way to Kalenpong and Boeton. It is chiefly used for freight.

The Tista river has a mythological history, which I will mention here. Among the Himalayas there is a savage tribe called Labche who live in a primitive state. The tribe is subdivided into two classes, of which one is much inferior to the other. The forefather of the advanced race, according to their genealogy, was called Tikum Serrong, and is said to have been born from the earth of the Himalayas, and his wife, whose name was Domi, from the water of the Tista river; they call the river Domi’s Rangni Unlam Hoklam. The river Tista runs through a large valley to the north-east of Darjeeling and joins the Ga?ga.

The inferior tribe of the two is supposed to be descended from a large stone, which is still to be seen in a little village called Dalamthang, which is situated on a hill in the plain north-west of Darjeeling. Their kinsmen are also scattered about Sikkim. The superior and inferior tribes, though they have different supposed ancestors, are really of the same race—the Labche, though the latter tribe is much lower and as stupid as the stone their forefather. With a few exceptions, the Labche (who have lived at Darjeeling long enough to imitate in dress the Tibetan or the Nepalese style) all cling to their original customs and manners. The covering of the body is only a cloth wound crosswise around the waist. The cloth, known by the name of Kusdom of Domi, is woven from the fibres of a grass called Sache in Tibetan. Sewing with needles is entirely unknown among them. The Labche women have their chins tattooed in three straight stripes, and those who cannot afford tattooing are content to dye three stripes, in some vegetable juice.

Their food chiefly consists of grasses, seeds of grasses of wild growth, and various kinds of mushrooms; meat and fish are very seldom eaten. They are practically vegetarians, and are such good botanists that they can discriminate with wonderful skill the poisonous vegetables from the edible; they know that such and such grasses are good against such and such diseases, and in what season they are or are not good to eat, and they know the names of all grasses. In this respect they are far more intelligent than the Hin?us, who know nothing of the names of grasses, nor even those of flowers. The bamboo is the plant most useful to the Labches. In the first place a section of bamboo is used as a kettle, into which are stuffed the roots of grasses or fruits, and sometimes corn well seasoned with salt and honey. Then it is fastened with a lid and put on the fire (for fuel they use bamboo) until the outside of the bamboo kettle turns black. When it is removed and the lid opened, the contents are found well cooked and ready for the table. This is the only way of cooking known to the Labches in the mountains. Earthen and stone kilns and metallic kettles are not known at all. The bowls which they use at dinner are also of bamboo, the bucket in which they carry water, the basin in which they keep provisions and milk, are all cylinders of bamboo. They also make bows and arrows from the same useful plant, and are skilful archers with bamboo bows and poisoned arrows.

Among the Labche tribe polygamy is sometimes, but very rarely, to be found; but polyandry is, in contrast to the Tibetans, entirely forbidden. They are very timid by nature and are extremely inactive, like other aboriginal races, but instead of diminishing, like the American Indians or the Ainos of Japan, their number increases as much as does that of the Tibetans. I believe their being monogamic counts for something in their favor. I cannot say whether their ancestors originated in the Himalaya mountains, but, judging simply from their language, which seemingly has no relation either to Tibetan or to Samsk??, I may safely say that they are descendants of aboriginal people settled there in a very remote time. Their faces are rather white and fine, and they are the best looking among the Himalayan mountaineers. But they have no courage or energy and look rather consumptive. Though thieving is very common among this tribe, such cruelty as manslaughter is utterly unknown. Most Labches who come to Darjeeling now-a-days are of the superior tribe of the two. Some people of the inferior tribe sometimes come up to the city, but they are too timid to mingle with others, and unless the utmost care be taken they run back to their old home. But both of these tribes have the finest countenance in the Himalayas, and, sad to say, many of their women at Darjeeling are slaves of soldiers, who are so numerous as to include many of the women of the place in this infamous employment. In Sikkim there are many immigrants both from Tibet and Bhu?an, but they mostly use the broken Tibetan language and can be distinguished from the Labches, who differ from them not only in language, but in appearance, customs, manners and everything. The Labches believe in Bu??hism, but of a very simple kind. I think they are a people of the greatest ethnological interest. If polygenists find here original man, it would be of no small interest to investigate how his lines of descent have branched off. Monogenists, on the other hand, would have to explain what linguistic and ethnological relations they bear to the neighboring tribes. No careful study seems to have been made of them yet. So we must leave the thorough investigation to the scientists.