Gradually descending into the valley proper, we soon found ourselves
once more among the waving rice-fields and apple-orchards, while
the wooden tenements again gave way to mud and stone, and thatched
erections. At a village called Sopru, we found some iron mines in
working order, and passing Kundunath, a pretty little spot adorned
with gardens of melons, pumpkins, sunflowers, &c., we shortly
after reached Kukunath. Here we encamped close to a collection of
bubbling crystal springs, which, bursting out of the hill side, and
spreading into a dozen separate streams, took their course down to
the innumerable fields of rice which they watered in their passage
through the valley. To-day our little camp assumes quite a lively
appearance again, three sheep and several fowls having been added
to the farm-yard; these, together with three surviving ducks of the
real original stock, and a wonderful white Thibetian cock, who owes
his life entirely to his highly-cultivated vocal powers, strut about
in front of the tent, and give an air of unwonted respectability
to the scene.
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