December 22.—To-day, at 9 a.m., the junior Amban, with a retinue of 300 men on horseback, left for Lhasa. The owners of the relay ponies followed them on foot, keeping pace with the ponies, or if they lagged behind they were whipped by the men on horseback; so that some dropped out and disappeared, abandoning their property to the Chinese rather than undergo their ill treatment. Of the six village headmen exiled to Re and Khamba djong for their share in the recent trouble, I learnt to-day that one had died on the road, and another is hanging between life and death. [[66]]
December 23.—To-day the Shape Lhalu and 100 followers, all on horseback, left for Lhasa. The ponies and the men who have to accompany them on the ula are treated with great hardship. They have to carry their food with them, as well as provender for their beasts. In the present case they had received but short notice, and are ill prepared for the long journey. This forced service is, however, patiently borne by the people, as it is a recognized custom of the country.
The market to-day received a large supply of pottery from the village of Tanag and Lholing, on the Tsang-po, a few miles north-west of Shigatse. In these localities excellent potter’s clay is obtainable, and the people carry on a profitable trade in earthenware with the surrounding districts. The Tanag pottery has not only an extensive sale in Tibet, but in the cis-Himalayan countries as well, where most utensils are of untinned copper, and the Sikkim and Darjiling people use them exclusively in preference to the earthenware made by the Nepalese inhabiting the Lower Himalayas. The Tanag earthenware is carried to the banks of the Tsang-po on donkeys, and there transferred to hide-boats (kodru), in which it is brought down to the Patama ferry, about four miles to the north-east of Shigatse. The Patama dealers, who, by the way, raise fine crops on the alluvial soil along the river banks, and make a good deal of money by fishing and ferrying, carry the earthenware to Shigatse on donkeys that jog slowly along the road to the jingle of big bells fastened around their necks. The Lholing pottery is brought to Shigatse viâ Tanag; this locality manufactures very large vessels for keeping wine or water in, and so heavy that two men can hardly lift them. The Tanag pottery is so highly glazed that it compares favourably with the Chinese and European earthenware sold in the Calcutta shops.[31]
There were on the market-place many wildly dressed Dokpas of the Chang province. The women wore such heavy and fantastic [[67]]apparel that one who had not before seen them might well be taken aback. From a distance these savages looked as if they wished to imitate the peacock’s gaudy plumes in their costume; they had so many beads of glass, coral, amber, and turquoise suspended from their headdress that one could hardly see their faces.
To-day the tailor finished our winter suits, consisting of a Chinese coat (kwa-tse) and trousers (pishu).[32] The lambskin lining in all the suits was quite neatly sewed. I was also furnished with a foxskin (wapa) cap, made after the Lhasa fashion. Provided with these, I felt well equipped for my journey to Dongtse. To make the linings of the coat, I had bought about sixty fine lamb-skins at a cost of Rs. 7.8. These skins appeared to have been obtained from very young lambs, which must have died shortly after birth, for the cost of a single piece of skin was not more than three or four annas, and as the live lambs would fetch at least double that price, it is not likely that they had been killed for their skins. It is, however, not unusual for the shepherds to kill ewes for the soft skin of their unborn lambs, for they fetch a high price. The demand from China for this kind of lamb-skin has, however, of late years much decreased, and the practice of killing ewes for the purpose of obtaining them is becoming rare.[33]
In the evening Tsering-tashi brought us the passport from the Tondub Khangar, to enable us to bring our things from Lachan to Tashilhunpo. Though it is customary to issue passports in open covers, this one was enclosed in a letter to the Djongpon of Khamba, and we were therefore unable to know its wording, but feared from this fact that some orders, probably to examine closely our packages, were contained in it. The Tung-chen, however, did not apprehend that any trouble would arise from this fact, but we could not share his confidence.
December 24.—In the morning, after washing, I went upstairs to sit in the sun. The cook brought tea and placed the pot on the stove before me. I had emptied three or four cups, warming my numbed hands against the warm cup, when Dungyig Phurching, a copyist, arrived, and was shortly followed by the Khamba Dungyig.[34] I [[68]]received the first with “chyag-pheb nang-chig” (“Please come in”), extending my right hand towards him, and, as an additional mark of respect to the latter, I half raised myself from my seat and placed him on my left hand on the same rug on which I was sitting. After an exchange of the usual compliments, he opened a bundle of papers and showed me an almanac he was engaged in copying for the minister.
He said he was sorry that he was unable to copy the manuscript of the Dsam-ling-gyeshe, but recommended Dungyig Phurching; and the latter agreed to do the copying at the rate of six leaves for a tanka, exclusive of ink and paper.
To-day news arrived of the death of the Tsopon Shanku, one of the six headmen, and the richest among them, punished on account of the late riot. I saw several monks and laymen carrying from the monastery to Shigatse three huge copper caldrons, about five feet in diameter, and I learnt that tea and tugpa (a soup of tsamba, minced meat, and radishes) were to be prepared in them for the entertainment of upwards of a thousand beggars in honour of the deceased. The caldrons belong to the lamasery, and were loaned for the occasion.
During market-time Ugyen visited a Nepalese (Balpo)[35] friend in Shigatse, from whom he learnt that Nepalese trade was suffering greatly by the introduction of Calcutta goods on the Tibetan market. “The Balpo traders,” he said, “used to make a hundred per centum profit in former times, but nowadays the introduction of Calcutta goods by shorter routes than the Katmandu one we have to follow has caused a great falling off in our profits and the bulk of our trade.”