holy spot, and deposited in a cave near it, under a guard. I also pledged myself that no use should be made of these instruments, nor any life sacrificed for the purpose of food, either by myself, or by any of my people, after leaving the village, until we returned: more-over, that I would not even carry meat of any sort, dead or alive, along with me, but eat only rice and bread. As to the putting off my shoes, they did not even propose it to me, and it could not have been done: but I volunteered to put them off, when entering into the precincts of the temple and holier places which pleased them greatly. All the Hindoos, including the Ghoorkhas, went from the village barefoot.

Just at the end of the bridge there is an overhanging rock, under which worship is performed to Bhyram, and a black stone partly painted red, is the image of the god; and here prayers and worship alone were not performed, but every one was obliged to bathe and eat bread baked by the Brahmins, as preparatory to the great and effectual ablutions at the holier Gungotree. This occupied a considerable time, as the party was numerous: in the meantime I took a very imperfect sketch of the scene, after which I bathed myself at the proper place (which is the junction of the two streams,) while the Brahmin prayed over me. Among the ceremonies

per

formed, he made me hold a tuft of grass while he prayed, which at the conclusion he directed me to throw into the eddy occasioned by the meeting of the two

waters.

From hence we ascended the rock, at the foot of which the bridge is situated, by a path more curious, dangerous, and difficult than any we had yet passed.

By this unpleasant path we reached a step, or level spot on the first stage of the mountain, where, in a thick grove of fir trees, is placed a small temple to Bhyram, a plain white building, built by order of Ummr Sing T,happa, who gave a sum of money to repair the road, and erect places of worship here, and at Gungotree. Having paid our respects to Byramjee, we proceeded along the side of the hill on the right bank (north) of the river, gradually ascending by a path equally difficult and dangerous as the first part of our ascent, but more fearful, as the precipice to the river, which rolls below us, increases in height, and exceedingly toilsome from the nature of the ground over which it passes,

and which consists wholly of sharp fragments from the cliffs above, with fallen trunks and broken branches of trees.

The path increases in difficulty from the very irregular nature of the ground, as well as the steepness of the hill face across which it leads, ascending and descending as the small, though deep, watercourses furrow the mountain side, in loose soil, formed of the small fragments fallen from above, and which slip down, threatening to carry the traveller to the gulph below. The shapeless blocks of rock now more completely obstructed the way, and for hundreds of yards, at times, the passenger must clamber over these masses, heaped as they are one upon another, in monstrous confusion, and so uncertain and unsteady that, huge though they are, they shake and move even under the burthen of a man's weight. So painful indeed is this track, that it might be conceived as meant to serve as a penance to the unfortunate pilgrims with bare feet, thus to prepare and render them more worthy for the special and conclusive act of piety they have in view, as the object of their journey to these extreme wilds.

The spot which bears the name of Gungotree is concealed by the roughness of the ground, and the masses of fallen rock, so as not to be seen till the traveller comes close upon it.

The temple is situated precisely on the sacred stone on which Bhagirutte used to worship Mahadeo, and is a small building of a square shape for about twelve feet high, and rounding in, in the usual form of pagodas, to the top. It is quite plain, painted white, with red mouldings, and surmounted with the usual melon-shaped ornaments of these buildings. From the eastern face of the square, which is turned nearly to the sacred source, there is a small projection covered with a stone roof, in which is the entrance facing the east, and just opposite this there is a small pagoda-shaped temple to Bhyramjee. The whole is surrounded by a wall built of unhewn stone and lime, and the space this contains is paved with flat stones. In this space too there is a comfortable but small house for the residence of the Brahmins who come to officiate. Without the inclosure there are two or three sheds constructed of wood, called dhurm sallahs, built for the accommodation of pilgrims who resort here; and there are many caves around formed by

overhanging stones, which yield a shelter to those who cannot find accommodation in the sheds.

The scene in which this holy place is situated is worthy of the mysterious sanctity attributed to it, and the reverence with which it is regarded. We have not here the confined gloominess of Bhyram Gattee: the actual dread which cannot but be inspired by the precipices and torrents, and perils of the place, here gives way to a sensation of awe, imposing, but not embarrassing, that might be compared to the dark and dangerous pass to the centre of the ruins of a former world; for, most truly, there is little here that recalls the recollection of that which we seem to have quitted. The bare and peaked cliffs which shoot to the skies, yield not in ruggedness or elevation to any we have seen; their ruins lie in wild chaotic masses at their feet, and scantier wood imperfectly relieves their nakedness; even the dark pine more rarely roots itself in the deep chasms which time has worn. Thus on all sides is the prospect closed, except in front to the eastward; where, from behind a mass of bare spires, four huge, lofty, snowy peaks arise; these are the peaks of RoodrooHimala. There could be no finer finish ing, no grander close to such a scene.

We approach it through a labyrinth of enormous shapeless masses of granite, which during ages have fallen from the I cliffs above that frown over the very temple, and in all probability will some day themselves descend in ruins and crush it. Around the inclosure, and among these masses, for some distance up the mountain, a few fine old pine trees throw a dark shade, and form a magnificent fore ground; while the river runs impetuously in its shingly bed, and the stifled but fearful sound of the stones which it rolls along with it, crushing together, mixes with the roar of its waters. It is easy to write of rocks and wilds, of torrents and precipices; it is easy to tell of the awe such scenes inspire: this style and these descriptions are common and hackneyed. But it is not so simple, to many surely not very possible, to convey an adequate idea of the stern and rugged majesty of some scenes; to paint their lonely desertness, or describe the undefinable sensation of reverence and dread that steals over the mind while contemplating the deathlike ghastly calm that is shed over them; and when at such a moment we remem

ber our homes, our friends, our firesides, and all social intercourse with our fellows, and feel our present solitude, and far distance from all these dear ties, how vain is it to strive at description! Surely such a scene is Gungotree. Nor is it, independent of the nature of the surrounding scenery, a spot which lightly calls forth powerful feelings. We were now in the centre of the stupendous Himala, the loftiest and perhaps most rugged range of mountains in the world. We were at the acknowledged source of that noble river, equally an object of veneration and a source of fertility, plenty and opulence to Hindostan; and we had now reached the holiest shrine of Hindoo worship which these holy hills contain. These are surely striking considerations, combining with the solemn grandeur of the place, to move the feelings strongly.

The fortuitous circumstance of being the first European that ever penetrated to this spot was no matter of boast, for no great danger had been braved, no extraordinary fatigues undergone: the road is now open to any other who chuses to attempt it, but it was a matter of satisfaction to myself. The first object of inquiry that naturally occurs to the traveller, after casting a glance over the general landscape, is the source of the river. Here, as at Jumnotree, you are told that no mortal has gone, or can go further towards its extreme origin than this spot; and the difficulty is indeed very apparent. I made a trial to gain a point about two furlongs beyond the temple, both for the purpose of observing the course of the river, and of seeing Gungotree in another point of view. But having with considerable difficulty made my way over the unsteady fragments for some hundred yards at the risk of being precipitated into the stream, I was forced to turn back. The precipices beyond descend more abruptly to the water's edge, and in all probability it would be nearly impossible to make one's way along their surface. Crossing the stream to take advantage of easier places on either side to pass along is out of the question; it is too large and too rapid, and climbing the mountain side higher up is equally so, for the crags increase in ruggedness and steepness till they end in snow. Thus, though in a particular water-course or chasm it may be possible to ascend for a short way, yet no end except that of a somewhat more extensive view of

what

what we already know could be thus attained. It may be that some enterprising persons remaining at this spot for several days or weeks might explore a path,or form one towards the source, for time and patient perseverance with courage may do much, but I am convinced it will be found extremely difficult; and probably the Paharies, whose assistance would be necessary to strangers, will be with difficulty persuaded to overcome the religious prejudice which has hitherto kept them below.

The source is not more than five miles horizontal distance from the temple, and in a direction south-east, 85o nearly; and beyond this place it is in all probability chiefly supplied by the melting of the great bosom of snow which terminates the valley, and which lies between the peaks of the great moutain above mentioned.

This mountain, which is considered to be the loftiest and greatest of the snowy range in this quarter, and probably yields to none in the whole Himalaya, obtains the name of Roodroo Himala, and is held to be the throne or residence of Mahadeo himself. It is also indiscriminately called Pauch Purbut, from its five peaks; and Soomeroo Purbot, which is not to be confounded with the mountain so called near Bunderbouch; and sometimes the general appellation of Kylas is given, which literally signifies any snowy hill, but is applied to this mountain by way of preeminence. It has five principal peaks, called Roodroo Himala, Burrumpooree, Bissenpooree, Oodgurre Kanta, and Soorga Rounee. These form a sort of semi-circular hollow of very considerable extent, filled with eternal snow, from the gradual dissolution of the lower parts of which the principal part of the stream is generated: probably there may be smaller hollows beyond the point to the right above Gungotree, which also supply a portion.

THEOLOGICAL LEGEND.

It may be amusing to relate the fabulous origin of this mountain, of the range, and of the two rivers as given by the Brahmin. Whether it be the same as is assigned in the shasters I have not the means of ascertaining. It was, however, attributed to them.

The common tale of the usurpation of he empire of Lunka, by Rawen the son

driven from their father Maha Deo's presence, by the trick of one of his wives; the history of this pair, and of Sita, the wife of Ram; their meeting with the Hoonoomaun in the Amrita gardens in Lunka; the rape of Sita by Rawen, tyrant and usurper of Lunka; the conquest of that place, and recovery of Sita, with the union of the three brothers in favour with their god and father, Maha Deo. When Maha Deo retired from Lunka, disgusted at the rebellion of his son Rawen, and, as it is said, forced by him to fly, he formed Kylas, or the Himala range for his re. treat; and Soomeroo Purbut, or Roodroo Himala, with its five peaks, rugged and inaccessible as it is, for his own dwelling, that none should find him out. Both Bhagiruttee and Alacknunda are there said to have sprung from the head of Maha Deo. Twelve holy Brahmins, denominated the twelve Reekhe, left Lunka in search of Maha Deo, and penetrated to Bhyramghattee, where the J,hannevie meets the Bhagiruttee, but could not find him. Eleven of them in despair went to Cashmere, but the twelfth, named Jum-Reek hee, remained at Bhyramghattee, sitting on a huge rock in the course of the stream of the Bhagiruttee, which instead of flowing on as usual, was absorbed in the belly of the Rheekhee and lost, while the J,hannevie flowed on. The goddess of the stream (Bhagiruttee) herself was at Gungotree, worshipping Maha Deo, and making her prostrations on the stone on which now the temple is founded. When she felt that the course of the stream was stopped, she went in wrath to Bhyramghattee, clove the Jum Reekhee in two, and gave a free passage to the river. One half of the Reekhee she flung to the westward, and it became the mountain of Bundepouch. From his thigh sprung the Jumna, and from his skull arose the hot springs mentioned when treating of Jumnotree. Thus far the extravagances of the shasters; and still they show the large rock which the Reekhee sat upon, and which was divided in two by the same fatal cut. It is a very large block of granite, which appears to have fallen from the cliff, above the point of union between the two rivers, and is curiously split in two.

THE TEMPLE OF GUNGOTREE.

The outside of the temple has already

father, is well known; as also are the adventures of Ram and Lutchmun,

three images: one, I think, is that of Kali: and the elevated stone shelf on which they were placed was wet and soiled with the offerings made: there was a peculiar smell, but I know not whence it proceeded. The place, as usual, was lighted by a small lamp: no daylight had admittance. Just below the temple, on the river side, grew three poplar-trees, and a few small larches: above there are the remains of a fine old silver fir-tree, which overshadows some of the caves and sheds. The whole people also bathed, and contributed something to the priesthood; and it was a matter of serious importance, as well as of great joy to every one, that we had thus happily reached a place of such supereminent sanctity: such, indeed, that the act of bathing here is supposed to cleanse from every sin heretofore committed, and the difficulty of which is so great, that few, except professional devotees, ever attempt reaching the holy place.

It

It is customary that those who have lost their father and mother, or either of these, shall be shaved at this spot; and it was curious to observe the whimsical changes produced by the opera tion, which numbers underwent. appears also, that one chief ordinance was the going frequently round the holy temple; and we particularly observed that those who were noted as the greatest rogues were most forward in this pious exercise: one man in particular, who had been a notorious thief, was unwearied in his perseverance.

Well, indeed, do they say, that Seeva has formed these recesses which he inhabits, inaccessible to all but those whom true devotion leads to his shrine. That man must have been indeed strongly impelled by devotion, ambition, or curiosity, who first explored the way to Gungotree. It were unavailing to enquire, and perhaps of little use, if known, to which of these motives we owe the enterprise; but patience, perseverance, and courage, must have been strongly united with it to lead him safely and successfully through those awful cliffs, that would bar the way to most men. Another omen of favour pointed out was, the increase of the river after bathing, as at Jumnotree; and it is singular enough, that during the time we remained here, I remarked several increases and decreases of the water, without any obvious causes; but these may fairly be referred to the effects of sudden MONTHLY MAG. No. 342.

changes of temperature occurring fre quently among the hills, and acting on the body of snow that feeds the river.

All these things, however, gave room for fresh showers of compliments, and served as a theme for flattering the British, who were now lords of the ascendant, and to whose rule they promised permanence and prosperity.

DESCENT TO THE PLAINS.

The night as usual was bad, but the morning was lovely. Not a cloud was to be seen, except here and there a low mass hovering over the distance, or a milk white fleecy vapour reposing on the beautiful green of the hills, and serving richly to contrast with the mellow tints of the wood and cultivation that spotted their sides. It is impossible to tell the delight which such a scene, in such a morning, affords to the eye, weary with rocky deserts and foaming torrents. For some weeks we had only risen to behold heavy mists half concealing black barren rocks, thinly covered with dark wood, and rapid destructive streams tumbling down gloomy ravines, while heavy and unceasing rain added to the cheerlessness of the prospect.

Here at last we saw the cheering face of heaven; hills of a lovely green, wooded to the top and divided by valleys, studded with villages and rich with cultivation. There are few, I believe, who would not feel the enlivening effects of such a change, and acknowledge the kindly glow of satisfaction that it sheds over the mind. Surely in these moments we must confess that however the grand and remote scenes of savage nature may delight and astonish for a season, they are not fit for the residence of man. The most ambitious must at times descend from the lofty but solitary and barren tracks of his greatness, to solace himself with the lowlier but kindlier charities of life. Deserts and solitude may be endured for a time, but sooner or later we feel the want of, and languish for, the intercourse and conversation of our fellow creatures, for the sweet interchange of human affections, for the comforts and elegancies of polished life, and return to them with enhanced eagerness and zest.

From hence in two days a sharp ascent carried us to a point in the crest of the Sowakhola ridge, and all the beautiful D,hoon, and the still more lovely and smiling flains of Hindostan, burst full upon our view. Scarcely a cloud obscured

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