A correspondence from The Memoir of George Edward Lynch Cotton, D.D., Bishop of Calcutta, and Metropolitan.

To Mrs. Arnold.

Kotgur, near Simla, September 1860.

. . . The place from which I am now writing is about fifty miles from Simla, on the Thibet road, and therefore quite in the interior of the mountain land. We came here partly because it is a mission station which wants a good deal of organising and stirring up, partly to get a little more knowledge of the Himalayas and health from their breezes, before we go down again into the plains. I have often tried to compare this Himalayan scenery with that of other mountain countries; but the result has been an increased conviction of the proverbial odiousness of comparisons, and a determination to enjoy what is before me without hankering after the unattainable. Doubt- less one may miss here the lakes of Italy, the glacier scenery of the Bernese Oberland, and the peculiar repose, freshness, and mountain streams of Westmoreland. But nowhere have I seen such foliage and vegetation ; the forests are of a grandeur and solemnity which remind me of the effect of a great cathedral, and from any height the enormous scale of the green land- scape, the vast ranges of hill-sides clothed in verdure and rich cultivation, the lines of mountain rising one behind another and terminating with the distant snow, give you the impression of a ‘ mountain country ‘ far more than any other scenery, and realise the fact that you are in the loftiest mountain range of the world. On Saturday morning we went up Hawathoo, 11,000 feet high, in this country of course a mere dwarf, but famous for its beautiful view. In the Alps at this height we should have been in the midst of ice and bare rock: here we sat down to a breakfast of coffee and mutton chops! on a greensward covered with potentillas and other flowers un- known to us, but some like anemones and others like China asters, with oaks and pines all around us and the ruins of an old Ghoorka fort to lean our backs against. The lichens and ferns are of great beauty, and the trunks of trees are clothed with the Virginia creeper which now has turned red, just as we have seen it against an old English manor house or a college in Oxford or Cambridge.

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