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Journey to Thibet in which he was obliged to sit “ like a Turk.” He managed, however, to reach Hori in this kind of carriage, at which place he changed his mode of travel and secured saddle-horses.
I will here relate an experience which M. Notovitch had at the little hamlet where he halted to rest and lunch, and where provisions and all sorts of merchandise were sold. He approached a Hindu, who was squatted before a kettle of boiling milk and after having examined it somewhat cautiously to be sure that it was milk, he wanted to purchase a glassful of it, whereupon the merchant offered him the kettle and its contents; at this our traveller remonstrated, saying that he only desired one glass of it; it was there that he learned his first lesson in orthodox Brahminism. “According to our laws," said the Hindu, "if a stranger or one not belonging to our caste touches gazes or points his finger at our food, by such act it is polluted and we cannot eat it. We must, not only throw it away, but must thoroughly cleanse and purify the utensil.” This will, of course, seem perfectly absurd to the people of the West, but there are, I may add, deep metaphysical laws underlying many of these seemingly useless ceremonies, which would not be understood by the reader without a thorough study. I will not, therefore, attempt to explain them here.
M. Notovitch resumed his journey and reached next evening the celebrated valley of Kashmir. This “happy valley” is situated between the ranges of the Himalaya mountains and is about eighty-five miles long and twenty-five wide, through the length of which wind in a serpentine course the sparkling waters of the river Jhelum.
This valley is, no doubt, the most beautiful in the world, with its placid lakes, its sparkling rivers (on which are hundreds of floating houses, in which live as many families the year round), its fairy-like gardens floating on the lakes, its hills and islands
