schrund by going to the right. This was very much the more direct way, but involved going up the steep slope mentioned above, and a slip on this would certainly have been fatal, as it terminated in an iceprecipice below. The slope was ice underneath, covered by about a foot of not over-good snow. I abstained from saying anything, and asked Bruce to let the natives settle it between themselves, and their subsequent performance proved full of interest. Two of them put down their loads and took off the goat-hair rope they use for carrying. They took a double length of this, and one tied it round his waist in true orthodox style. They then borrowed one of our axes (which so far had not been used). The first man (who was tied round the waist) started ahead with the axe, cutting steps, followed by the second man, who held the two ends of the doubled rope tied round his stick, which he drove in as he went along. And so they went along till the easier slope above was reached. Then the others followed, and subsequently three went back to bring up the two loads that had been left behind. It was really a capital performance, and would have done credit to any men. Altogether their performance, and that of the other five natives as well, was one that not every Swiss guide would care to imitate under similar conditions. None of the loads were much above 30 lbs., but were all arranged to be inside this limit as far as possible. Just below the top of the pass there was a rather nasty piece of slope, with snow that was very rotten. Our natives all stopped, and each said his prayers before going on to it. The top was all corniced, and we did not go over quite the lowest point of the pass, but at a point about 50 feet higher to the east. Amar Sing and Parbir (the two Goorkhas) cut through the cornice, the passage of which required the use of the rope in the case of every member of the party. We reached the top at 9.40 a.m., and the view from there is truly splendid."

The descent to Arundu is perfectly easy and straightforward, and does not need description, for it has been admirably described by Colonel Godwin-Austen in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society for 1864.

When we reached Haigutum we had still a certain amount of baggage and some servants that could be dispensed with, so we arranged to send the whole over the Nushik La to Skardu, in charge of Mr. Roudebush. Zurbriggen was to accompany the party for two marches, and then return and join me again on the Hispar glacier. The party under the command of Mr. Roudebush crossed the pass in bad weather on July 14th. They also had a local guide with them, but neither guide nor coolies showed the least mountaineering ability. At first they took the same route as Mr. Bruce, to the far side of the Haigutum glacier; but then Zurbriggen declined to follow the local guide, who, like Shersi, was for leading them under some dangerous overhanging ice, which might have fallen upon them at any moment. Zurbriggen struck out a

safe route more to the left and reached the watershed, in three hours and a quarter of actual climbing, at a point about half a mile east and 500 feet or more higher than the point where Mr. Bruce's party crossed. He had infinite trouble with the coolies, who kept on throwing down their loads and refusing to advance. Again and again he had to go down and help the men up, one by one, which he did with the greatest kindness. The coolies fully realised the value of his help, and when all the difficulties were over, they fell on the ground and kissed his feet, saying that thenceforward they would follow wherever he chose to lead. One of these men returned with Zurbriggen to my party, and his account of what had happened stimulated the courage of my coolies, who thenceforward ceased to give trouble and worked admirably and without complaint.

Zurbriggen was away from me for three days in all. During one of these days we remained stationary. On the other two we made long marches up the glacier, the surface of which was now free from stones, except for two or three big medial moraines. Our advance was by no means easy, for the glacier was often crevassed and always cut up by large sinuous streams, far too wide to be jumped, which undercut one side of their bed. We had to meander around the curves of these waters, often finding it difficult to discover a route. On the evening of July 16th we encamped at the edge of the upper snow-field, and at the angle of a great icy affluent, flowing in from the south, at whose head stood a mighty white mountain, so graceful in form, and pure in aspect, that I named it the White Lily. Shortly after camp was pitched we heard Zurbriggen's whistle coming from far over the glacier, and in due time he arrived from his laborious march.

The next day Zurbriggen rested, and we took rounds of angles with the theodolite, catalogued collections, inked in the map, and engaged in other needful occupations. On July 18th we started, meaning to make a camp at the foot of the final ascent of the pass. The coolies, led by a Goorkha, went up the right side of the glacier ; M'Cormick, Zurbriggen, and I, with the other Goorkha, struck straight across the ice to the other side, in order to reach certain points necessary for the survey. As we went along we found the snow to be in admirable condition; the day was so superbly fine that we loudly bewailed our failure to arrange for pushing on at once over the pass. Just then we saw that the crevasses at the foot of a side glacier were forcing the coolies out into the middle of the ice and within shouting distance of us. In a moment I determined to change our plans, and signalled for all the men to come in our direction. We started at once up the long snow slopes towards the col, and walked at a rapid pace. Zurbriggen led skilfully through a labyrinth of great crevasses that presently intervened, and then we had to pound over some 4 miles of gently sloping snow-field to the pass. At noon we were all united on

the summit, and the longed-for view over the other side disclosed itself

to us.

It is a view unique in my experience of mountains. We saw no series of ridges, and looked down no long glacier such as we had expected to behold. Instead of these things there was displayed beneath us a vast, seemingly flat lake of snow, in area at least 300 square miles, white, silent, the very embodiment of stillness and calm. A great range of peaks ringed it around, and a mighty group of rockneedles jutted into the heavens on one side of it to a height of 24,000 feet, masses of rock surpassing the Aiguilles of Chamonix in number, in steepness, and immeasurably in size. There was no visible outlet to this lake, but there was a suggestion of the existence of one round the corner to the right, hidden by a near snowy ridge. We feared that there would prove to be a great ice-fall at this point, and the reported "accumulation of snow" might well enough have resulted in making an ice-fall, of such dimensions as this would necessarily possess, wholly impassable. We stopped for an hour and a quarter on the pass, during which time we lunched. I took a round of angles and read the instruments. The mercury stood at 15.85 inches. The air temperature was 64°. Many of us felt, though none suffered from, the diminished atmospheric pressure, but the burning heat of the sun in the morning gave us headaches, which the diminished pressure may have increased. The headache, however, was primarily one of the sun-headaches with which we have become far too familiar.

It was not without some misgiving that I gave the word to descend. We went down a gentle snow-slope, and then through a maze of big crevasses, thus reaching the edge of a bay of the great snow-lake. We traversed this and passed round its far angle to the right. There, as we turned the corner, the broad smooth highway of the Biafo glacier opened suddenly before us, stretching away far as the eye could reach, without visible crease or chasm in the direction we must go. On either hand peaks of extraordinary abruptness, to which the mountains of Europe contain no parallel, rose one behind another in interminable array. Far in the distance clouds and glacier seemed to meet in purple indistinctness. Just round this corner, for us so momentous, we found a plateau suitable for the camp; there we spent the night. Hour after hour snow fell deep upon us, and the clouds wrapped us around, but in the morning the weather lifted somewhat, and we were able to continue our way. We marched about 12 miles before camping at nightfall in the bed of an old lake.

The glacier was without crevasses for the whole distance, a most disagreeable condition of things, for there was no crack for the melted snow to flow into, and it lay about all over the surface of the ice and turned it into slush. We waded for hours through this nameless compound of water, ice, and snow, which sometimes reached to the

knee. Imagination cannot picture a greater satisfaction than we felt when we once more trod on earth that was partially dry. The next day we made another long march, and came in the evening to a reasonably comfortable level, where there was brushwood to burn and grass to lie upon. On the following morning I sent off Zurbriggen and the spare coolies to Askole, about 25 miles down. They reached the village in the evening by a long forced march. M'Cormick and I remained all day resting in camp, and spent the day following in sketching and surveying. The weather now became steadily bad, and my survey could proceed but slowly, owing to the constant clouding of the peaks and their intricacies of form. We were thus unable to reach Askole with a finished map till four more days had passed; but ultimately all our work was satisfactorily done, and on July 26th our whole party (with the exception of Mr. Roudebush, who remained at Skardu) was reunited at Askole.

The Hispar Pass is thus from the end of the Hispar Glacier to the end of the Biafo Glacier over 80 miles in length, and is the longest glacier pass in the world outside of the Arctic regions. At Nagyr everyone declared that it had not been crossed in the memory of any living person, and it was evident enough that none of the men that accompanied us had the least knowledge of the way, for they were all as surprised as we were at the unexpected nature of the view from the col. At Askole, however, I was able to learn some more precise traditions from the mouths of the Baltis. Colonel Godwin-Austen, writing in 1864, says of the Hispar Pass, "It was by this way that the Nagyr men used to come into the Braldoh and loot the villages; their last raid was some twenty-four years since (i.e. about 1840), when a body of from seven hundred to eight hundred crossed over, and carried off about one hundred men and women, together with all the cows, sheep, and goats, they could collect." I enquired about this story every day I was in Askole and was informed as follows:-The last time there is any memory of the pass having been crossed was in the days of the father of the very old man in whose house our baggage was stowed. He does not remember the event, but he remembers his father telling him about it. The leader of the band that crossed from Nagyr was Wazir Hollo. They came late in the year, three months later than now. The harvest in Nagyr had been bad and the Nagyr folk needed provisions. The band did not attempt to attack Askole, said the old man, but the Baltis gave them ibex skins and flour. The Nagyr people invited some of the Baltis to go back with them, but they refused, fearing the cold. The Nagyr men started to return by the way they had come, but they all perished in the snow except Wazir Hollo, who alone reached home to tell the tale. There is perhaps a fragment or two of truth in this story, but the actual facts will probably never be discovered.

MENDEZ PINTO.

By STEPHEN WHEELER.

MISTRESS DOROTHY OSBORNE found entertainment in the travels of Ferdinand Mendez Pinto-"'tis as diverting a book of the kind," she tells Sir William Temple, "as ever I read;" but more serious critics must often have been tempted to throw aside his narrative in despair. Dates and names of places appear to have been scattered about the pages at haphazard. Small wonder that Cervantes called him a liar. Moreover, Mendez Pinto writes himself down a blustering rogue and cut-throat in prosperity, a poltroon when the odds were against him. We get a clear indication of his character in the account given of his visit to Kwedda, a small state in the Malay peninsula. He had sailed thither in company with a Mohamedan factor. This unfortunate man, at a feast to which he was bidden by a brother Moslem, spoke ill of the Raja, who, on hearing of it, ordered both host and guest to be seized and put to death. Their hands, feet, and lastly their heads were sawn off. Mendez Pinto was in an agony of terror. "Like one distraught of my wits," he says, "I cast myself at the feet of the elephant whereupon the king rode, and with tears in my eyes cried out, 'O sir, have pity on me, and take me for thy slave rather than cause me to end my days with the torments which have taken those out of the world whom I see here.' He asserted that he was nephew to Dom Petro de Faria, which was a lie; and furthermore, by way of propitiating the king, vowed that Dom Petro would be vastly pleased at the execution of the factor, a dog who had embezzled the goods committed to his charge. This was another lie, invented, says Pinto, upon the sudden, "and not knowing well what I said."

Evil deeds were wrought by the adventurers in whose service Mendez Pinto sailed the Eastern seas. Antonio de Faria, perhaps the ablest of his commanders, was great at surprises; at taking the enemy-that is, anyone weaker than himself-unawares. We read of his boarding a junk and flinging four pots of gunpowder among the rascals asleep upon the hatches, which made them all leap into the sea. Nine or ten were drowned, but the others were rescued and pressed for sailors. We read again of the vanquished dying in torments like mad dogs. Even little boys and old men were tortured. Captives were put to death "by making their brains flye out of their heads with a cord." When the Portuguese sacked and burnt the town of Nouday, in Southern China, it was great pity, says Pinto, to behold a number of handsome maids led away, tied four and five together, weeping and lamenting. When they treacherously laid hands on a bride who had come to De Faria's ship, believing that her newly-married husband was on board, Pinto only recollects the humorous side of the incident. His account of the burning of a village in the Island of Hainan may also be quoted.