As promised, the path on our side was pretty good, and led us
through several peaceful little villages, overhung by giant rocks,
and dotted with enormous blocks of stone, which had descended to
disturb the harmony of the scene during some convulsion or commotion
in the interior economy of the mountains. Some of these were taken
advantage of by the natives to serve as canvas for their designs,
and were carved with effigies of four-armed divinities, and other
SACRED subjects. With the exception of these, we saw few traces of
Buddhism about us here. Passing through one of the villages, I bought
a medicine-book, or charm, from one of the natives. It was in Arabic,
and was rolled and swathed like a mummy, and worn round his arm. He
told me that he had inherited it from his father, and appeared by no
means happy when it was gone.
Arriving at Sankoo, we found it a well-wooded thinly-inhabited
valley, about a kos and a half in length. Here we had a new specimen
of bridge architecture to pass. It was formed simply enough of
two crooked trunks of trees, and, considering the torrent below,
it required a considerable amount of confidence to enable one to
traverse it successfully.
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