the
Bernese Oberland range is to the Alps, this Kinchinjunga group is to the
sky-reaching Himalayas. The former, however, are but pygmies compared
with these giants at Darjeeling. One gazes in amazement at the peaks,
and almost doubts that they belong to the earth upon which he stands.
Visitors from a distance are often compelled to depart in disappointment
after waiting for days to obtain a fair view of the range. We had reason
for gratitude in having reached this elevated spot at so propitious a
season.

We ascended the nearest hill soon after arriving at the hotel, and,
looking across the intervening valley, could count twelve peaks, the
lowest of which was over twenty thousand feet in height, and the highest
over twenty-eight thousand, upon which rested eleven thousand feet of
perpetual snow,--the snow line being distinctly marked from east to
west, as far as the eye could reach. There can be no animal life in that
Arctic region, no pulsations of vitality. Only the snow and ice rest
there in endless sleep, cold, pitiless, and solemn. The sun was slowly
declining in the west, faintly burnishing a few silvery, transparent
clouds, while it touched the pearl-white tops of the Himalayas with ruby
tints, and cast a glow of mingled gold and purple down the sides most
exposed to its rays. Every hue of the rainbow seemed to hang over the
range, through which gleamed the snowy robe in which the peaks and
sides were clad. The top of Kinchinjunga, the loftiest of them all,
towering three thousand feet above its fellows, as it radiated the glory
of the sunset, made one hesitate whether it was indeed a mountain top or
a fleecy cloud far up in the sky. As we watched with quickened pulse,
the sunset glow, like a lingering kiss, hung over the grand,
white-turbaned peaks for a moment, as though unwilling to say good
night, and then it suddenly vanished. The cool, dewy shadows gathered on
the brow of Kinchinjunga like parting tears, and night closed swiftly
over the deep intervening valley, shutting out the loveliness of the
vision, but leaving its impress glowingly fixed upon the memory forever.

The Himalayas--meaning in Sanskrit the Halls of Snow--form the northern
boundary of India, and shut out the country from the rest of Asia.
Tibet, which lies just over the range from whence we viewed it and the
wild region between, is virtually impassable for travel; and yet bold
parties of traders from time to time, wrapped in sheep-skins,