The High Lands of the Great Continent (continued)—The Oriental Table-Land and its Mountains.

The Oriental plateau, or table-land of Tibet, is an irregular four-sided mass stretching from S.W. to N.E., enclosed and traversed by the highest mountains in the world. It is separated from the table-land of Persia by the Hindoo Coosh, which may be considered as the western prolongation of the Himalaya, occupying the terrestrial isthmus between the low lands of Hindostan and Bucharia.

The cold dreary plateau of Tibet is separated on the south from the glowing luxuriant plains of Hindostan by the Himalaya, which extends from the eastern extremity of the Hindoo Coosh in Cabulistan to about the 95th meridian, where it joins the immense mountain-knot which renders the south-western corner of the table-land and the Chinese province of Yun-nan one of the most elevated regions on the earth. On the west, the table-land has its limits in the chain of the Bolor or Beloot Tagh, the “Cloudy Mountains,” the Tartash Tagh of the natives, a transverse range which detaches itself from the Hindoo Coosh nearly at a right angle about the 72d degree of E. longitude, and, pursuing a northerly direction, forms magnificent mountain-knots with the diagonal chains of the table-land, and is the watershed between the valley of the Oxus and Chinese Tartary. It descends in a succession of tiers or terraces through the countries of Bokhara and Balkh to the deep cavity in which the Caspian Sea and the Sea of Azoff lie, and forms, with the Western Ghauts, the Solimaun range, and the Ural, a singular exception to the general parallelism of the Asiatic mountains. Two narrow difficult passes lead over the Beloot Tagh from the low plains of Bucharia and Independent Tourkistan to Kashgar and Yarkand, on the table-land in Chinese Tartary. The north-eastern edge of the table-land is bounded by the Khing-han Mountains, a serrated granitic chain running from south to north, which separates the plateau of Mongolia from the country of Mantchouria, and joins the Yablonoi branch of the AltaÏ at right angles about the 55th degree of north latitude. Little more is known of the south-eastern boundary of the table-land than that it is a mass of exceedingly high mountains. In fact, between the sources of the Brahmapootra and the AltaÏ chain, nearly 1,000,000 of square miles of the Chinese empire is covered with mountains.

The table-land itself is crossed longitudinally from west to east by two great chains. The Kuenlun, or Chinese range, begins about 35° 30' N. lat. at the mountain-knot of Tsung-lin, formed by the Hindoo Coosh and Himalaya, and, running eastward, it terminates about the 110th meridian, but probably covers a great part of the western provinces of China with its branches. The Thian-shan, or “Celestial Mountains,” lie more to the north; they begin at the Bolor or Beloot Tagh, and, running along the 42d parallel, sink to the desert of the Great Gobi about the centre of the plateau, but, rising again, they are continued under the name of Shan-Garjan, which runs to the north-east and ends on the shores of the Japan Sea. The Thian-shan is exceedingly volcanic, and, though so far inland, pours forth lava, and exhibits all the other phenomena of volcanic districts.

Tibet is enclosed between the Himalaya and the Kuen-lun; Tungut, or Chinese Tartary, lies between the latter chain and the Thian-shan, or Celestial Mountains; and Zungary, or Mongolia, between the Celestial range and the AltaÏ. The meridional chain of the Bolor encloses Chinese Tartary on the west; and Mongolia, which is entirely open on the west, is shut in on the east by the Khing-han range, also running from south to north. The Himalaya and AltaÏ ranges diverge in their easterly courses, so that the table-land, which is only from 700 to 1000 miles wide at its western extremity, is 2000 between the Chinese province of Yunnan and the country of the Mantchou Tonguses.^[28]

Of all these vast chains of mountains the Himalaya, and its principal branch the Hindoo Coosh, are best known; though even of these a great part has never been explored, on account of their enormous height and the depth of snow, which make it impossible to approach the central ridge, except in a very few places.

The range consists of three parts: the Hindoo Coosh, or Indian Caucasus, which extends from the Paropamisan range in Afghanistan to Cashmere; the Himalaya, or Imaus of the ancients, which stretches from the valley of Cashmere to Bhotan; and, lastly, the mountains of Bhotan and Assam—the three making one magnificent unbroken chain.

The Hindoo Coosh, which has its name from a mountain of great height, north of the city of Cabul, is very broad to the west, extending over many degrees of latitude, and, together with the offsets of the Beloot Tagh, fills the countries of Kafferistan, Koonduz, and Budakshan. From the plains to the south it seems to consist of four distinct ranges running one above another, the last of which abuts on the table-land, and is so high that its snowy summits are visible at the distance of 150 miles. A ridge of stupendous height encloses the beautiful valley of Cashmere, to the east of which the chain takes the name of Himalaya, “the dwelling of snow.” From the great mountain-knot of Tsung-lin, the Himalaya no longer maintains its direct easterly course, but makes a vast arch to the south of 300 miles, which extends to the Brahmapootra, varying in breadth from 250 to 350 miles, and occupying an area of 600,000 square miles.^[29]

The general structure of the Himalaya is very regular: the first range of hills that rise above the plains of Hindostan is alluvial, north of which lies the Tariyani, a tract from 10 to 30 miles wide, 1000 feet above the sea, covered with dense pestilential jungle, and extending along the foot of the range. North of this region are rocky ridges 5000 or 6000 feet high. Between these and the higher ranges lie the peaceful and well-cultivated valleys of Nepaul, Bhotan, and Assam, of inexhaustible fertility, interspersed with picturesque and populous towns and villages. Though separated by mountain-groups, they form the principal terrace of the Himalaya between the Sutlej and Brahmapootra. Behind these are mountains from 10,000 to 12,000 feet high, flanked by magnificent forests; and, lastly, the snowy ranges rise in succession to the table-land.

The principal and most elevated chains are cut by narrow, gloomy ravines and transverse dusky gorges, through which the torrents of melted snow rush to swell the rivers of Hindostan. The character of the valleys becomes softer in the lower regions, till at last the luxuriance of vegetation and beauty cannot be surpassed. Transverse valleys, however, are more frequent in the Hindoo Coosh than in the Himalaya, where they consist chiefly of such chasms filled with wreck as the tributaries of the Indus and Ganges have made in bursting through the chain.

The mean height of the Himalaya is stupendous. Captain Gerard and his brother estimated that it could not be less than from 16,000 to 20,000 feet; but, from the average elevation of the passes over these mountains, Baron Humboldt thinks it must be under 15,700 feet. Colonel Sabine estimates it to be only 11,510 feet, though the peaks exceeding that elevation are not to be numbered, especially at the sources of the Sutlej; indeed, from that river to the Kalee, the chain exhibits an endless succession of the loftiest mountains on earth; forty of them surpass the height of Chimborazo, one of the highest of the Andes, and several reach the height of 25,000 feet at least. So rugged is this part of the magnificent chain, that the military parade at Sabathoo, half a mile long and a quarter of a mile broad, is said to be the only level ground between it and the Tartar frontier on the north, or the valley of Nepaul on the east. Towards the fruitful valleys of Nepaul and Bhotan the Himalaya is equally lofty, some of the mountains being 28,000 feet high; but it is narrower, and the descent to the plains excessively rapid, especially in the territory of Bhotan, where the dip from the table-land is more than 10,000 feet in ten miles. The valleys are crevices so deep and narrow, and the mountains that hang over them in menacing cliffs are so lofty, that these abysses are shrouded in perpetual gloom, except where the rays of a vertical sun penetrate their depths. From the steepness of the descent the rivers shoot down with the swiftness of an arrow, filling the caverns with foam and the air with mist. At the very base of this wild region lies the elevated and peaceful valley of Bhotan, vividly green, and shaded by magnificent forests. Another rapid descent of 1000 feet leads to the plain of the Ganges.

The Himalaya still maintains great height along the north of Assam, and at the Brahmapootra the parent stem and its branches extend in breadth over two degrees of latitude, forming a vast mountain-knot of great elevation. Beyond this point nothing certain is known of the range, but it or some of its branches are supposed to cross the southern provinces of the Chinese empire, and to end in the volcanic island of Formosa. Little more is known of the northern side of the mountains than that the passes are about 5000 feet above the plains of Tibet.

The passes over the Hindoo Coosh, though not the highest, are very formidable: there are six from Cabul to the plains of Turkistan; and so deep and so much enclosed are the defiles, that Sir Alexander Burnes never could obtain an observation of the pole-star in the whole journey from Barmeean till within thirty miles of Turkistan.

Most of the passes over the Himalaya are but little lower than the top of Mont Blanc: many are higher, especially near the Sutlej, where they are from 18,000 to 19,000 feet high; and that north-east of Khoonawur is 20,000 feet above the level of the sea—the highest that has been attempted. All are terrific, and the fatigue and suffering from the rarity of the air in the last 500 feet is not to be described. Animals are as much distressed as human beings, and many die; thousands of birds perish from the violence of the wind, the drifting snow is often fatal to travellers, and violent thunderstorms add to the horror of the journey. The Niti Pass, by which Mr. Moorcroft ascended to the sacred lake of Manasa, in Tibet, is tremendous; he and his guide had not only to walk barefooted, from the risk of slipping, but they were obliged to creep along the most frightful chasms, holding by twigs and tufts of grass, and sometimes they crossed deep and awful crevices on a branch of a tree, or on loose stones thrown across. Yet these are the thoroughfares for commerce in the Himalaya, never repaired nor susceptible of improvement from frequent landslips and torrents.

The loftiest peaks being bare of snow gives great variety of colour and beauty to the scenery, which in these passes is at all times magnificent. During the day, the stupendous size of the mountains, their interminable extent, the variety and sharpness of their forms, and, above all, the tender clearness of their distant outline melting into the pale blue sky, contrasted with the deep azure above, is described as a scene of wild and wonderful beauty. At midnight, when myriads of stars sparkle in the black sky, and the pure blue of the mountains looks deeper still below the pale white gleam of the earth and snow-light, the effect is of unparalleled solemnity, and no language can describe the splendour of the sunbeams at daybreak streaming between the high peaks, and throwing their gigantic shadows on the mountains below. There, far above the habitation of man, no living thing exists, no sound is heard; the very echo of the traveller’s footsteps startles him in the awful solitude and silence that reigns in these august dwellings of everlasting snow.

Nature has in mercy mitigated the intense rigour of the cold in these high lands in a degree unexampled in other mountainous regions. The climate is mild, the valleys are verdant and inhabited, corn and fruit ripen at elevations which in other countries—even under the equator—would be buried in permanent snow.

It is also a peculiarity in these mountains that the higher the range the higher likewise is the limit of snow and vegetation. On the southern slopes of the first range, Mr. Gerard found cultivation 10,000 feet above the sea, though it was often necessary to reap the corn still green and unripe; while in Chinese Tartary good crops are raised 16,000 feet above the sea. Captain Gerard saw pasture and low bushes up to 17,009 feet; and corn as high as even 18,544 feet, which is 2784 feet higher than the top of Mont Blanc, and 1279 feet above the snow-line in the province of Quito under the equator. Birch-trees with tall stems grow at the elevation of 14,068 feet, and the vine and other fruits thrive in the valleys of these high plains. The temperature of the earth probably has some influence on the vegetation: as many hot springs exist in the Himalaya at great heights, there must be a source of heat below these mountains, which in some places comes near the surface, and possibly may be connected with the volcanic fires in the central chains of the table-land. Hot springs abound in the valley of Jumnotra; and as it is well known that many plants thrive in very cold air if their roots are well protected, it may be the cause of pine-trees thriving at great elevations in that valley, and of the splendid forests of the deodar, a species of cypress that grows to gigantic size even in the snow.

According to Captain and Mr. Gerard, the line of perpetual congelation is at an elevation of only 12,981 feet on the southern slopes of the Himalaya; while on the northern side, or rather on the peaks which rise above the table-land, the limit is 16,620 feet; but the mean height of the table-land of Tibet, and the relative elevation of the line of perpetual snow on the two declivities of the Himalaya, require to be better investigated. The greater elevation of the snow-line on the northern side is the joint result of the serenity of the sky, the less frequent formation of snow in very cold dry air, and the radiation of heat from the neighbouring plains, which, being so near, have much greater effect on the temperature than the warmer but more distant plains on the south. There are fewer glaciers in the Asiatic mountains than might have been expected from the great mass of snow; they are chiefly on the Thibetian side of the Himalaya, and on the Kuenlun. There is a very large one at the source of the Indus, and another at the source of the Ganges, on the southern face of the Himalaya.

Various secondary chains of great length detach themselves from the eastern extremity of the Himalaya, or rather the vast knot of mountains, near the sources of the Brahmapootra, in the Chinese province of Yun-nan, which is a terra incognita; their origin, therefore, is unknown. But in Upper Assam they run cross to the equatorial system of Asiatic mountains, and, extending in a southerly but diverging direction, they spread like the spokes of a fan through the countries east of the Ganges and the Indo-Chinese peninsula, leaving large and fertile kingdoms between them. The Birmano-Siamese chain is the most extensive, reaching to Cape Romania, at the southern extremity of the Malay peninsula, the most southerly point of the Asiatic continent; it may be traced through the island of Sumatra parallel to the coast, and also in the islands of Banca and Biliton, where it ends.

Another range, called the Laos-Siamese chain, forms the eastern boundary of the kingdom of Siam, and the Annamatic chain, from the same origin, separates the empire of Annam from Tonquin and Cochin China.

These slightly diverging lines of mountains yield gold, silver, tin of the best quality and in great plenty, almost on the surface, and precious stones, as rubies and sapphires. Mountains in low latitudes have nothing of the severe character of those in less favoured climes. Magnificent forests reach their summit; spices, dyes of brilliant tints, medicinal and odoriferous plants, clothe their declivities; and in the low grounds the fruits of India and China grow in perfection, in a soil which yields three crops of grain in the year.

The crest of the Himalaya is of stratified crystalline rocks, especially gneiss, with large granitic veins, and beds of quartz of huge magnitude. The zone between 15,000 and 18,000 feet above the level of the sea is of Silurian strata; granite is most frequent at the base, and probably forms the foundation of the chain. Strata of comparatively modern date occur at great elevations. The sedimentary formations, prevailing also on the acclivities of the Alps and Apennines, show that the epochs of elevation in parts of the earth widely remote from one another, if not simultaneous, were at least not very different. There can be no doubt that very great geological changes have taken place at a comparatively recent period in the Himalaya, and through an extensive part of the Asiatic continent.

The AltaÏ mountains, which form the northern margin of the table-land, are unconnected with the Ural chain: they are separated from it by 400 miles of a low marshy country, part of the steppe of the Kirghiz, and by the DalaÏ mountains, a low range never above 2000 feet high, which runs between the 64th meridian and the left bank of the Irtish. The AltaÏ chain rises on the right bank of that river, at the north-west angle of the table-land, and extends in a serpentine line to the Pacific, south of the Gulf of Okhotzk, dividing the high lands of Tartary and China from the wastes of Asiatic Siberia. Under various names, its branches skirt the north-west side of the Gulf of Okhotzk, and thence stretching to Behring’s Straits, it ends at Eastern Cape, the most eastern extremity of the old continent, the whole length of the chain being 4500 miles. The breadth of this chain varies from 400 to 1000 miles, but towards the 105th meridian it is contracted to about 150 by a projection of the desert of the Great Gobi. Its height bears no proportion to its length and breadth. The AltaÏ, the only part of the chain properly so called, can only be regarded as a succession of terraces of a swelling outline, descending by steps from the table-land, and ending in the promontories of the Siberian plains. There are numerous large lakes on these terraces and in the valleys, as in the mountain systems of Europe. The general form of this part of the chain is monotonous from the prevalence of straight lines and smooth rounded outlines—long ridges with flattened summits, or small table-lands not more than 6000 feet high, which rarely attain the line of perpetual congelation: snow, however, is permanent on the Korgon table-land, 9900 feet above the sea, supposed to be the culminating point of this part of the chain. These table-lands bear a strong resemblance to those in the Scandinavian mountains in baldness and sterility, but their flanks are clothed with forests, verdant meadows, and pastoral valleys.

East of the 86th meridian this region of low mountains splits into three branches, enclosing longitudinal valleys for 450 miles. The Sayansk and Zongnou mountains, which are the northern and central branches, form a mountain-knot nearly as large as England, which projects like a huge promontory on the Siberian plains^[30] west of Lake Baikal, and is celebrated for the richness of its mines. The third branch, which is the Ulangomula, lies south of Lake Oubsa. The principal part of the Baikal group is 500 miles long, from 10 to 60 wide, high and snow-capped, and said to be without glaciers. It flanks lake Baikal on the north, the largest of Alpine lakes, so embedded in a knot of mountains, partly granitic, partly volcanic, that rocks and pillars of granite rise from its bed. The mountains south of the lake are but the face of the table-land; a traveller ascending them finds himself at once in the desert of Gobi, which stretches in unbroken sadness to the great wall of China.

The Daouria mountains, a volcanic portion of the AltaÏ, which borders the table-land on the north-east, follow the Baikal chain; and farther east, at the sources of the Aldan, the AltaÏ range takes the name of the Yablonnoi Khrebet, and stretches south of the Gulf of Okhotzk to the coast of the Pacific opposite to the island of Saghalian; while another part, 1000 miles broad, fills the space between the Gulf of Okhotzk and the river Lena, and then, bending to the north-east, ends in the peninsula of Kamtchatka. Between the western end of Lake Baikal and the Yablonnoi Khrebet the mountain-chains are parallel, and extend from the W.S.W. to the E.N.E., which is the general direction of the high lands in the most easterly regions of Asia.

A great part of the AltaÏ chain is unknown to Europeans; the innumerable branches that penetrate the Chinese empire are completely so: those belonging to Russia abound in a great variety of precious and rare metals and minerals—silver, copper, and iron. In the Yablonnoi range, and other parts, there are whole mountains of porphyry, with red and green jasper; coal is also found; and in a branch of the AltaÏ between the rivers Obi and Yennissei there are mines of coal which, having been set on fire by lightning, have continued to burn for more than a century. The Siberian mountains far surpass the Andes in the richness of their gold mines. The eastern flank of the Ural chain, and some of the northern spurs of the AltaÏ, have furnished a vast quantity of gold, but a region as large as France has lately been discovered in Siberia covered with the richest gold alluvium, lying above rocks abounding in that precious metal. The mines of the Ural and AltaÏ are situated principally in metamorphic rocks, adjacent to the greenstones, syenites, and serpentines that have caused their change; and as the same formation prevails throughout the greater part of the AltaÏ and Aldan chains almost to Kamtchatka, there is every reason to believe that the whole of that vast region is auriferous: besides, as many of the northern offsets of the AltaÏ are particularly rich, it may be concluded that the southern branches in the Chinese empire are equally so. Thus, Southern Siberia and Chinese Tartary form an auriferous district, probably greater in area than all Europe, which extends even to our dominions in Hindostan, where the formations containing gold are unexplored.^[31]

The sedimentary deposits in this extensive mountain-range are more ancient than the granite, syenite, and porphyries: consequently these igneous rocks have not here formed part of the original crust of the globe. Rocks of the PalÆozoic series occupy the greater part of the AltaÏ, and probably there are none more modern. There are no volcanic rocks, properly speaking, ancient or modern, west of the Yenissei, but they abound to the east of that river, even to Kamtchatka, which is full of them.

The physical characters and the fossil remains of this extensive mountain system have little relation with the geological formations of Europe and America. Eastern Siberia seems even to form an insulated district by itself, and that part between the town of Yakoutzk and the mouth of the Lena appears to have been raised at a later period than the part of Siberia stretching westward to the Sayansk mountains; moreover, the elevation of the western part of the AltaÏ was probably contemporaneous with that of the Ural mountains.^[32] On the whole, the chains in the direction of parallels of latitude in the Old Continent are much more numerous and extensive than those in the meridians; and as they lie chiefly towards the equator, the internal forces that raised them were probably modified by the rotation of the earth.

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° 30', 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.

Yarkand and Khotan, provinces of Chinese Tartary, which lie beyond the two diagonal chains, are less elevated and more fertile than Tibet; yet it is so cold in winter that the river Yarkiang is frozen for three months. They are watered by five rivers, and contain several large cities; Yarkand, the most considerable of these, is the emporium of commerce between Tibet, Turkistan, China, and Russia. Gold, rubies, silk, and other productions are exported.

The Tartar range of the Thian-Shan is very high; the Bogda Oola, or “Holy Mountain,” near Lake Lob, its highest point, is always covered with snow, and it has two active volcanoes, one on each side. This range runs along the 42d parallel of north latitude, forming at its western extremity a mountain-knot with the Beloot Tagh, in the centre of which lies the small table-land of Pamer, 15,600 feet high, called by the natives the “Roof of the World.” Its remarkable elevation was first described by the celebrated Venetian traveller Marco Polo, six centuries ago. The Oxus originates in a glacier of the Pooshtee Khur, a peak of the Beloot Tagh near the plain of Pamer; the lake Sir-i-Kol is here the source of the river of Yarkand; and the Kokan also rises in the same plain, which is intensely cold in winter, and in summer is alive with flocks of sheep and goats. Snow lies deep on the Thian-Shan range in winter, yet little falls on the plains on account of the dryness of the air. There are only two or three showers annually on these mountains, for a very short time, and the drops are so minute as scarcely to wet the ground, yet the streams from them suffice for irrigation.

Zungary, or Mongolia, the country between the Thian-Shan and the AltaÏ, is hardly known, further than that its grassy steppes, intersected by many lakes and offsets from the AltaÏ, are the pasture-grounds of the wandering Kirghiz.

The remarkable feature of the table-land is the desert of the Great Gobi, which occupies an area of 300,000 square miles in its eastern extremity, interrupted only by a few spots of pasture and low bushes. Wide tracts are flat, and covered with small stones or sand, and widely separated from one another are low hills destitute of wood and water; its general elevation is 4220 feet above the sea, but it is intersected from west to east by a depressed valley aptly named Shamo, or the “Sea of Sand,” which is also mixed with salt. West from it lies the Han-Hai, the “Dry Sea,” a barren plain of shifting sand blown into high ridges. Here, as in all deserts, the summer sun is scorching, no rain falls, and when thick fog occurs it is only the precursor of fierce winds. All the plains of Mongolia are intensely cold in winter, because the hills to the north are too low to screen them from the polar blast, and, being higher than the Siberian deserts, they are bitterly cold; no month in the year is free from frost and snow, yet it is not deep enough to prevent cattle from finding pasture. Sandy deserts like that of the Great Gobi occupy much of the country south of the Chinese branches of the AltaÏ.

Such is the stupendous zone of high land that girds the old continent throughout its whole length. In the extensive plains on each side of it several independent mountain systems rise, though much inferior to it in extent and height.