after great difficulty, I succeeded in getting a loafer, who had been a sort of Jack-of-all-trades and master of none. He was a West African negro; had been brought up as a sailor; and had served for several years in a Native Artillery Corps in Assam, where he had married a native woman, and acquired the language. He was an inveterate drunkard, but a man of iron constitution and undoubted pluck; in fact, just the sort of man. if he could only be kept from drink. So with him I returned to Sudiya, somewhat elated at having overcome my first difficulty.

On his arrival, my new interpreter was arrested for debt, and I had to hand over twenty pounds to clear him. No sooner was this done than his wife made her appearance, and threatened to arrest him for maintenance, and I was again compelled to relieve him at a further cost of ten pounds. These payments considerably enhanced his value in my estimation, and, as an inducement to keep him by me until we had made a fair start, I bought two or three cases of 'Old Tom,' and gave him a bottle daily. The first evening, under the influence of his beloved bottle, he swore that he would never leave me, and I could see that he was my slave through the influence of gin.

The next thing to be done was to procure a guide through the Mishmee country to the frontiers of Thibet, and I bethought me of the young Khamtee chief, Chowsam, living on the banks of the Tenga-panee river, distant three or four days' journey by boat. I had no sooner conceived the bold idea of asking this chief to

Our New Interpreter.

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accompany me than I at once set about preparing for a visit to him, much against the advice of my gin-drinking interpreter and his native friends, who would as soon have thought of trusting themselves alone in Chowsam's country as of walking into the jaws of a tiger. I was confident, however, that he was my man; everything I had heard of him made me more eager to secure his services. He was described as proud and haughty, fearless, passionate, and dreaded, not only by the Assamese but by the Mishmees, who pay him tribute.

I had seen him once in Debrughur, when he was on a visit to Captain Gregory, the Commissioner, and his bold, defiant air had prepossessed me in his favour. So my faithful Philip, having full confidence in the judgment of his master, set about making all necessary preparation, and we started for the Tenga-panee river on the 20th October, taking the negro with us as an interpreter.

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CHAPTER XI.

THE KHAMTEE VILLAGE.

The Tenga-panee-Gregory Island--Mahseer Fishing-Chowsam's Village— Cool Reception-First Interview-Chowsam-Gin and Politeness-The Chief's Consent Gained-Khamtee People-Clan System-Houses— The Virgins' House-The Bachelors' House-Morals-CustomsSocial Laws-Return.

Two days poling along the reedy banks of the Bramapootra brought our dugout to the mouth of the Tengapanee, entering which we glided into its pellucid stream, and commenced working up against a strong current. An impenetrable jungle grew to the water's edge on either bank, and the stream was so narrow that the giant limbs of the forest trees in many places almost formed a canopy overhead, casting a sombre shade in keeping with the solemn silence which reigned around. Ever and anon our boatmen would strike up their wild boat song, which, echoing through the forest, would startle myriads of parrots from their leafy perch, high overhead; these forming themselves into cloud-like flocks, would perform the most wonderful evolutions of flight, while they filled the air with their sharp, shrill screams. Often as we went along a troop of monkeys would follow us, leaping from tree to tree with marvellous

agility, and, as though in mockery at our tardy progress,

the whole troop would throw themselves right over our heads, from the boughs of the trees on one bank to those on the other, and then scamper off into the jungle, where their hobgoblin chatter would die away in the distance, like the waking remembrance of the sounds heard in some horrible nightmare. After such disturbances as these the prevailing silence of this wild country invariably seemed more intense.

At the end of our first day's journey up the Tengapanee we camped for the night on a small grassy island in mid-river, where the stream had widened out. A more lovely spot I have never beheld. The flat grassy island, some fifty yards long and twenty wide, was spread like a bright green carpet on the river, which looked like a floor of polished ebony, so black was it from the shade cast by the leafy walls of the trees on either bank. The view up stream closed only where the distant perspective, after forming a perfect avenue nearly a mile in length, seemed to unite both banks in a distant haze, and, as though nature had condescended to take a lesson from the art of man, a row of plantain trees, with their long graceful leaves, formed an even hedge of brilliant green, about twelve feet high, along both sides of the avenue.

I pitched my blanket-tent on the upper end of the island, and lighted a fire in front, while my men kindled a large watch fire a few paces off, and as the smoke ascended through the still air in tapering columns, it seemed as though the last touch of this lovely picture was complete.

Towards sundown I took my rod and line and fished in the river. The mahseer had begun to run up stream in search of limpid pools in which to spawn, so my efforts were soon rewarded with a run, and a heavy fish trotted me up and down the island for a long time, and proved so powerful that I had to call in the assistance of the Domes with their nets before he showed on the grass. When he did he looked quite fourteen pounds, and having grilled him on the embers all hands made a hearty fish supper, served with open-air sauce, after which we turned in, first telling off the first watch for the night, under Philip--a necessary precaution, as we were in the neighbourhood of Singphoo villages, the inhabitants of which are terrible thieves.

We remained on this little island for three days, two of which I was down with fever. In spite of this I enjoyed myself greatly, and left it with considerable regret, not, however, before I had christened it 'Gregory Island,' in honour of my kind friend Captain Gregory,. Commissioner of Lukimpore, and buried a bottle containing its name and the date of our visit.

From Gregory Island one day's poling brought us to Chowsam's village. A few villagers that were lounging along the river bank stared at us in silence, the presence of a Sahib seeming to create no other impression than that of supreme indifference, while their unwillingness to answer our enquiries as to the whereabouts of Chowsam seemed greatly to disconcert our boatmen, who proposed that we should drop down the river again a mile or so and pass the night in the jungle. This was a proposition