bushes there are absolutely none; indeed, how could there be, in such a region? Putting out of question the natural impediments to vegetation, the winds of winter and spring blow day after day with such violence that you see even the humble shrubs of wormwood uprooted by them, rolled into bundles, and driven across the barren plain!
The population in the Gobi Proper is far more scanty than in the steppe country which precedes it. Indeed, none but the Mongol and his constant companion the camel, could inhabit these regions, destitute alike of water and timber, scorched by an almost tropical heat in summer, and chilled in winter to an icy cold.
The barrenness and monotony of the Gobi produce on the traveller a sense of weariness and depression. For weeks together the same objects are constantly before his eyes: cheerless plains, covered in winter with the yellowish withered grass of the preceding year, from time to time broken by dark rocky ridges, or by smooth hills, on the summit of which the swift-footed antelope (Antilope gutturosa) occasionally casts a light shadow. With heavy measured tread the laden camels advance; tens, hundreds, of miles are passed, but the changeless desert remains sombre and unattractive as ever. . . . The sun sets, the dark canopy of night descends, the cloudless sky glitters with myriads of stars, and the caravan, after proceeding a little further, halts for the night. The camels show unmistakable satisfaction at being freed from their burdens, and lie down
