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His dramatic escape to the Indian Em- bassy on November 6, 1950, was the signal for the rising which overthrew the Ranas, restored the King to his own, and opened Nepal to the world.

Since then the nation has been striding out of the Middle Ages and into the twentieth century.

Beyond the river, over the iron bridge brought a hundred years ago from England by the Prime Minister who visited Queen Vic- toria, is the United Mission Hospital at Shanta Bhawan, Shanta Bhawan was formerly a palace of one of the Ranas, and the guest room his summer house, a creeper-covered cottage in a little garden.

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In contrast, the numerous palaces are in the English Georgian or Regency styles Corinthian columns and white stucco.

The palace in the Durbar Square, all proper with balustrades and pillars, might have been an English town hall except for the sentries and black cows dozing below.

Most of the city is less than thirty years old, having been devastated by earthquake ; but so cleverly had the chief buildings been restored, including the tall tower which I thought must be a minaret but was only a folly, that no one could tell.

Equestrian statues, cast in England and carried over the moun- tains in the old days by mule or man, dominate the streets.

Most of them are of hereditary maharajah prime ministers, of the Shum Shere Jung Bahadur Rana family who, for a hundred years, kept the kings from power, treated the revenues as their own privy purse, and excluded foreigners.

The British Ambassador showed me a book which listed every foreigner who entered Nepal between 18.

Apart from the British Resident, his staff, the annual inspectors of his escort, and an occasional special envoy, there were only sixty- six in forty-four years.

But the latest statue was not that of a Prime Minister, Looking down New Road toward the British In- formation Room and the American Library stood King Tribhubana, the savior of his country.

stomachs that had gone for over twenty-four hours cm two eggs, two pieces of toast, biscuits, and Katmandu n tea. The beds were hard boards, but to me seemed soft as down.

Nor shall I forget the splendid panorama of the mountains in the early-morning sun as soon as we crossed over the rim of the saucer, some twenty minutes from Palung.

Much of the lower ground was in cloud, but beyond rose snow peaks and plateaus the length of the horizon, stately in shape and symmetry ; only the extreme east of the line was blocked by cloud, robbing us of Everest. we met a closed barrier: "This road," it announced, "will remain open only between 5-7 A. M." We sat in front of it under the sun, munching bananas in lieu of breakfast, until Bose and the Director- General, after fifteen minutes, proved more powerful than regula- tions. Here were Professor Donald Duck's students to garland him in welcome.

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