The Cliff Climbers | Page 2

south, Sikhs from Lahore,
and Mahometans from the old empire of the Moguls; and here, also, are
to be found, in full profession, the three great representative religions of
Asia--Mahometan, Buddhist, and Brahmin.
The population, however, is exceedingly small compared with the
surface over which it is distributed; and there are many tracts in the
Himalayan hills, thousands of square miles in extent, where no human
being dwells--where no chimney sends up its smoke. Indeed, there are
vast tracts, especially among the high snow-covered summits, that have
either never been explored, or only very rarely, by the adventurous
hunter. Others there are quite inaccessible; and it is needless to say, that
the highest peaks--such as Chumulari, Kinchinjunga, Donkia,
Dawalghisi, and the like--are far beyond the reach of even the most
daring climber. Perhaps no one has ever ascended to the height of five
miles above the level of the sea; and it is a question whether at that
elevation a human being could exist. At such a height it is probable that
animal life would become extinct, by reason either of the extreme cold
or the rarity of the atmosphere.
Though the Himalaya mountains have been known from the earliest

historic times--for they are the Imaus and Emodus of the ancient
writers--it is only within the present century that we in Europe have
obtained any definite knowledge of them. The Portuguese and
Dutch--the first European colonists of India--have told us very little
about them; and even our own Anglo-Indian writers were long silent
upon this interesting theme. Exaggerated accounts of the hostility and
cruelty of the Himalayan highlanders--more especially the
Ghoorkas--prevented private explorations; and with the exception of
some half-dozen books, most of them referring to the western section
of the Himalayas, and comparatively valueless, from the want of
scientific knowledge on the part of their authors, this vast tract has
remained almost a terra incognita up to the present time.
Of late, however, we have obtained a better acquaintance with this
interesting portion of the earth's surface. The botanist, lured thither by
its magnificent flora, has opened to us a new world of vegetation.
Royle and Hooker have ably achieved this task. The zoologist, equally
attracted by its varied fauna, has made us acquainted with new forms of
animal life. Hodgson and Wallich are the historians in this department.
Scarcely less are we indebted to the sportsman and hunter-- to
Markham, Dunlop, and Wilson the "mountaineer."
But in addition to these names, that have become famous through the
published reports of their explorations, there are others that still remain
unrecorded. The plant-hunter--the humble but useful commissioner of
the enterprising nurseryman--has found his way into the Himalayas;
has penetrated their most remote gorges; has climbed their steepest
declivities; and wandered along the limit of their eternal snow. In
search of new forms of leaf and flower, he has forded the turbid stream,
braved the roaring torrent, dared the dangerous avalanche, and crossed
the dread crevasse of the glistening glacier; and though no printed book
may record his adventurous experience, not the less has he contributed
to our knowledge of this great mountain world. His lessons may be
read on the parterre, in the flowers of the purple magnolia, the deodar,
the rhododendron. They may be found in the greenhouse, in the
eccentric blossoms of the orchis, and curious form of the screw-pine--in
the garden, in many a valuable root and fruit, destined ere long to

become favourites of the dessert-table. It is ours to chronicle the story
of an humble expedition of this kind--the adventures of a young
plant-hunter, the employe of an enterprising "seedsman" well-known in
the world's metropolis.
CHAPTER TWO.
A VIEW FROM CHUMULARI.
Our scene lies in the very heart of the Himalayas--in that district of
them least explored by English travellers, though not the most distant
from the Anglo-Indian capital, Calcutta. Almost due north of this city,
and in that portion of the Himalayan ranges embraced by the great bend
of the Burrampooter, may be found the spot upon which our interest is
to be fixed. Literally may it be termed a spot, when compared in
superficies with the vast extent of wilderness that surrounds it--a
wilderness of bleak, barren ridges, of glistening glaciers, of snow-clad
summits, soaring one above another, or piled incongruously together
like cumuli in the sky.
In the midst of this chaos of rock, ice, and snow, Chumulari raises his
majestic summit, crowned and robed in white, as becomes his sacred
character. Around are other forms, his acolytes and attendants, less in
stature, but mighty mountains nevertheless, and, like him, wearing the
vestment of everlasting purity.
Could you stand upon the top of Chumulari, you would have under
your eye, and thousands of feet below your feet, the scene of our
narrative-- the arena