My walking companion was a pedantic scholar. He had a very high opinion of himself, but he knew nothing of the essential principles of Buḍḍhism, nor did he recognise the existence of any sectional differences. It seemed as if he had only a vague notion of the doctrines. I was glad to have his company, such as it was, but he vexed me greatly by his evident animosity towards me, which unfortunately grew more violent as time progressed. The cause of this animosity was, as I learned afterwards, the fact that I had explained on a previous evening the Tibetan grammar, which, scholar though he was, was all untrodden ground to him. He was of opinion that the knowledge of grammar, unaccompanied by that of true Buḍḍhism, was a worthless acquisition, which only fools would take the trouble to make. As his manner disclosed his jealousy, I treated him with circumspection.
On that day we passed over a large hill and spent the night at a swampy place, after having walked nearly twenty miles in all. A lecture on grammar was again given, by request. On the 5th, I again walked in company with the pedantic monk. After we had arrived at Lhasa he fell into a destitute condition, and I, being then in happier circumstances, did all I could to help him. But this occurred long afterwards. During the journey, after some interesting conversation was held in connexion with religious questions, the monk applied himself to the work of systematically investigating my personality. Apparently he suspected that I was an Englishman, or at least a European, on account of my complexion, and his suspicion speedily grew into conviction. But as his questions did not soar above what I had expected, I was able to reply in a manner which dissipated his doubts. After we had traversed the desert for five miles, we again reached the Brahmapuṭra, and a thaw having set in at that time, we found the water was flowing on smoothly. The clashing sound of the blocks of ice was inspiriting, and the sun was beautifully reflected on the surface of the river. We walked eastward along the bank for about seven miles, and then, leaving the river, walked in a north-easterly direction by an up-hill road along the Brahmapuṭra for another seven miles. Then we crossed the river on horseback. A post-town called Niuk-Tazam stood a little to the north on the river bank, but we did not visit it. We travelled two miles and a half in an easterly direction and encamped on the slope of a hill. That day I walked about twenty three miles. Until we had come to the neighborhood of a town called Lharche the caravan which I accompanied avoided stopping in towns, for the grass on which their horses fed was not to be found abundantly in such places.