was "long, brusque, and rapid, like the descent of a gigantic
ladder." At the lower altitude snow and ice disappeared. It was the
end of January 1846, when at last our two travellers found themselves
approaching the longed-for city of Lhasa.

"The sun was nearly setting," says Huc, "when we found ourselves in
a vast plain and saw on our right Lhasa, the famous metropolis of the
Buddhist world. After eighteen months' struggle with sufferings and
obstacles of infinite number and variety, we were at length arrived
at the termination of our journey, though not at the close of our
miseries."

Huc's account of the city agrees well with that of Manning: "The palace
of the Dalai Lama," he says, "merits the celebrity which it enjoys
throughout the world. Upon a rugged mountain, the mountain of Buddha,
the adorers of the Lama have raised the magnificent palace wherein
their Living Divinity resides in the flesh. This place is made up of
various temples; that which occupies the centre is four storeys high;
it terminates in a dome entirely covered with plates of gold. It is
here the Dalai Lama has set up his abode. From the summit of his lofty
sanctuary he can contemplate his innumerable adorers prostrate at the
foot of the divine mountain. But in the town all was different--all
are engaged in the grand business of buying and selling, all is noise,
pushing, excitement, confusion."

Here Huc and his companion resided for two and a half months, opening
an oratory in their house and even making a few Christian converts.
But soon they were ordered to leave, and reluctantly they travelled
back to China, though by a somewhat different route.

After this the Tibetans guarded their capital more zealously than
before. Przhevalsky, "that grand explorer of Russian nationality,"
spent years in exploring Tibet, but when within a hundred and sixty
miles of Lhasa he was stopped, and never reached the forbidden city.

Others followed. Prince Henri of Orleans got to within one hundred
miles of Lhasa, Littledale and his wife to within fifty miles. Sven
Hedin, the "Prince of Swedish explorers," who had made so many famous
journeys around and about Tibet, was making a dash for the capital
disguised as a Mongolian pilgrim when he, too, was stopped.

"A long black line of Tibetan horsemen rode towards us at full gallop,"
he relates. "It was not raining just at that moment, so there was
nothing to prevent us from witnessing what was in truth a very