alluvial deposit of this lake, I cannot say, but there is no doubt that,
whatever may be the cause, the valley of Nepaul is almost unrivalled in
its fertility, supporting as it does in comfort and plenty a population
of 400,000 inhabitants, being 300 persons to the square mile.

There is not, I conceive, any other mountainous country in the world that
can boast of possessing so favoured a spot. Throughout its whole length
and breadth, not a stone is to be found: it is well watered; its
temperature is delightful, the thermometer in the hottest month seldom
reaches 75 degrees, in the coldest never falls below 30 degrees; it is
sufficiently near the tropics to rejoice in the presence of the warm
bright sun even in the depth of winter, while the proximity of the ever
snow-capped "Himaleh" prevents the heat being too severely felt in the
middle of summer. It rarely freezes in the valley, and never snows,
although the hills around, some of which do not exceed 1000 feet, are
frequently powdered.

It is impossible to conceive a more enjoyable climate, and the numerous
productions of which the valley can boast betoken its genial influences.

I am sorry that I cannot from my own observation testify to the rich
variety of its vegetable productions, as the time of year during which I
was in Nepaul was unfavourable, but many English forest-trees flourish
here,--amongst them, oaks, chestnuts, and pines; rhododendrons also
abound, and I observed almost every species of English fruit-tree: in the
residency garden all the European vegetables are raised to perfection.

But to return from this digression on the advantages of soil and climate
which the valley possesses. The lovely view before us comprised in a
glance the grand and majestic scenery of the mountains, with the softer
but still animating view of the luxuriant plain, bearing evidence of that
large and industrious population whose habitations were so picturesquely
grouped throughout it.

We had not nearly satisfied our desire to gaze upon so much that was new
and interesting, when we were informed by our attendants that the
astrologers had announced the auspicious moment at which the Minister
Sahib, or, as we must now call him, Jung Bahadoor Comaranagee, should
leave the camp outside the city walls and make an imposing entry into
Katmandu.

This lucky hour was now close at hand; and as the entrance of the prime
minister into the capital was a scene not to be lost, we hu