December 10.—Ugyen and Phurchung were up by daylight, arranging things and buying firewood and other necessaries. Shortly after I had arisen the men we had hired at Tang-lung to lead our ponies came in for their rewards. I gave each of them six tankas, and some twisted biscuits to carry home to their children, all of which pleased them greatly. It felt strange to me not to have a day's journey before me, so accustomed had I become to daily travel, instead of which I could sit peacefully reclining on my cushions on the balcony, lighted up by the rays of the morning sun. Phurchung was the only servant I now had to attend on both myself and Ugyen, so it was decided to hire a man to help him in fetching water and in blowing the bellows. We had to wait till the Shigatse market (tom) opened at 11 o'clock before we could get any breakfast, for our provisions were exhausted. Both Ugyen and Phurchung went to the market, from which they shortly returned with butter, salt, mutton, tsamba, phing[1] and a few Chinese cakes for me. They had been surrounded on the way by two parties of beggars (Rogyaba), who, recognizing Ugyen as a new arrival from Sikkim, had by alternate threats and solicitations succeeded in squeezing from him several silver pieces. They had also seen an altercation between a woman selling salt and some Khamba traders. One of the latter had bought several scers of salt from the woman, and had offered her a debased tanka in payment, which she had refused. The Khamba would not return the salt or pay in better coin; he called six or seven of his friends to him, threw the salt on the ground, and wanted to beat the woman, whom there was no police to protect. It ended by the savage Khamba walking off unmolested, and the poor woman losing her salt. Ugyen was greatly surprised at the lawlessness of the people in the market, their violence towards the helpless, and the absence of police supervision. I smiled at his fears, and told him to take a hearty breakfast. In the evening I called at the Phuntso Khangsar, and learnt from the steward that Kusho Tung-chen,[2] the minister's secretary, would be back on the following afternoon.
- ↑ This appears to be the Chinese ping, meaning "cake or pastry." In North-West China and Szechuan this word designates a thin cake of wheat-flour the size of a plate, cooked on a hot iron or in a shallow dish. In Tibetan it is called palé.—(W. R.)
- ↑ Kusho is the Tibetan equivalent of "Mr."; Tung-chen is Drung (yig) chen-po, "chief secretary," not a name, as one might suppose by the way it is used in this narrative. The minister's residence, S. C. D. says elsewhere, was at the northern end of the town. It is a stone building three stories high, the exterior painted yellow.—(W. R.)
