| text: |
30 November. Chongliyimsen. |
| text: |
After four days hectic packing, we set off today on the long tramp down to the plains and the railway on my way back to England. |
| text: |
Although the change from the rains to the winter has been almost imperceptible (one season slides into another in this evergreen forest), I can see a great difference in the landscape. The jungle is thinner and more sparse and the trees are flecked with the dull scarlet of old leaves that are about to fall and the glossy scarlet of the new sprays. It is autumn and spring all at once. We made an early start and it was a cold misty morning. Below us in the valleys, spurs of forest jutted out into the banks of mist. |
| text: |
At every village on the roadside, headmen were waiting to bid me goodbye. They say it seems like the end of an epoch for I shall probably be the last English woman in these hills for a long time to come. |
