of the North. For ages Erân and Turân might roam and fight, and settle and migrate, across and athwart that vast table-land of Central Asia, itself the loftiest terrace on the face of the earth--and all their random waves broke against the stupendous, impervious barrier.' Whatever conquering or civilizing swarms made their way at various times into the land of the Indus, reached it through a few gaps in the lesser chains of the Northwest, the HINDU-KUSH and the SULEIMAN MOUNTAINS, the passes that became celebrated in history under the names of KHAÏBAR, KURAM, and BHOLÂN. The ruggedness and small number of even these breaks made such occurrences difficult and far between, while the waters which surrounded the lower half of the continent, being those of an ocean rather than of inland seas, for many centuries served purposes of isolation far more than of intercourse. So the great North beyond the mountains remained a region of mystery and awe, from which the oldest native peoples vaguely fancied their ancestors to have come down at some time, so that some of their descendant tribes were wont, even till very lately, to bury their dead with the feet turned northwards, ready for the journey to the old home, where they were to find their final rest.

4. Travellers agree that no mountain scenery— not that of the Alps, nor any in the Caucasus, the Andes, or other famed highlands of the world-is

1 The level of this table-land is itself, on a rough average, 10,000 feet above the sea, and the Himalaya wall rises 10,000 feet above that, not including such exceptional giants as Mt. Everest, Dhawalagiri and some others, whose peaks tower up to nearly as many feet more. (Mt. Everest-29,002 ft.)

remotely comparable in splendor and sublimity to what the Himâlaya offers in almost any of its valleys. A continuous ridge nearly double the height and five times the length of the SwissItalian Alps, with a mountain region depending on it, the size of Spain, Italy, and Greece put together in a row, and of which one small portion, Kashmir, looking like a nook nestled in the northwest corner, is as large as all Switzerland,―surely such a ridge gives scope to variety of scenery. We are told that it is not uncommon to stand on some point, from which the eye takes in a semicircular sweep of undulating or jagged snow-line with an iridescent, opal-like glory ever playing along it, and with peaks rising from it at intervals," heaven-kissing hills " indeed!-the least of which is several thousand feet higher than Mont Blanc, like pillars of ice supporting a dome of a blue so intense as to seem solid; while at your feet, forest-clothed and cut by valleys, stretch down the lower ridges, which descend, tier below tier, in four great terraces, into the hot plains of Lower Hindustân. If the spectator had taken his station on a summit of the northernmost—and highest ridge, somewhere on on the northwest boundary of Nepâl, the grandeur of the physical surroundings would be helped by that of memories and associations. He would there be at the very core and centre of the divine HIMAVAT-to use the fine ancient name, which means " Abode of Winter," -the region to which the Aryan Hindu has, for ages well-nigh untold, looked with longing and reverence; for there, on the fairest and loftiest heights

he knew, he placed the dwellings of his gods. There they were enthroned in serene and unattainable majesty; there they guarded the hidden storehouses of their choicest gifts to men: for there lay the mysterious caves of KUVERA, the god of wealth, the keeper of gold and silver and other precious ore, and of sparkling gems; there, snow-fed and pure, at a height of about 15,000 feet, slumber the sacred lakes, eternally mirroring in their still waters only the heavens and the mountain wilderness that cradles them; and there, too, cluster the springs of the great rivers, holiest of things,--the INDUS, and the SUTLEJ, and the GANGES, and the BRAHMAPUTRA with the most glorious name-"Son of God,”—that river ever had. To such regions, all wildness and mystery, all peace and silence, but for the rush of torrents and the music of winds and leaves, worldweary men and women, longing for the rest and beauty of passionless, eternal things, have come age after age, and still come, on long pilgrimages, frequently stretching into years of self-exile in rude forest-hermitages, to drink deep of solitude and meditation, and return, heart-healed and renovated, to the plains below; unless-and thrice blessed those to whom this is given,-they can stay among the mountains and woods, as in the vestibule to a higher world, stripped of all earthly clingings, desires and repinings, patiently and happily waiting for the final release. Thus the Himâlayas have ever been woven into the deepest spiritual life of the people whose physical destinies they helped to shape. They literally bounded their view in every sense, and what