CHAPTER XXII.

MONGOL CAMP: ONE OF OUR HALTS.

At this point there are two roads to China, one branching off half right, and the other half left. The former passes through a district from which much salt is obtained; it is a shorter but rougher road, and according to our Mongolsa more dangerous one. They therefore elected to travel by the other. There was a green valley up which the shorter road led, where we could see numbers of black tents of the Bana tribes, and their immense flocks of sheep, their cattle, tame yak, and ponies.

With the exception of one white tent, all these Bana tents were as black as could be. The roofs of them were for the most part octagonal, with a hole in the middle to release the smoke. To each corner a rope is attached, which is fastened to a stick driven into the ground, and this again is kept secure by another rope attached to a peg.

Now that we had come well into the midst of the Bana tribes, the Mongols' fears were redoubled, and they kept watch throughout the night. Soon after sunset they made up a number of big fires, so that we might represent a large camp, and in order to accustom their ponies to the noise of an attack, they rehearsed one, pretending that imaginary enemies had fallen upon us. They fired off their old matchlocks, and rushed here and there, crying out, "Ho! Hi!" We sat by a large fire of argols warming our toes, as we watched the performance, unwilling to help them with our guns in the terrible battle they were engaged in. As soon as they had beaten off the foe, they, our men, and ourselves, formed the three points of a triangle, and picketing the ponies in our middle, slept soundly throughout the night, without further disturbance from real or imaginary enemies.

Some ten miles from this camp we found a wonderful rock, standing out conspicuous and alone in the grassy valley we were marching down. On one side of this rock a small open courtyard had been built from big blocks of white stone, some of which were a foot deep and broad, and two feet long. The walls were some twelve feet high, while the courtyard itself was about twelve yards long and eight yards broad. On many of the stones were Chinese, anda few Tibetan, inscriptions, and on the interstices between two of them we found a Chinese cash. Hanging across one wall was a piece of rope, and attached to this were any number of hairs from horses' tails and shoulder-bones with inscriptions on them. Just as I had managed to cut off one of these bones unobserved, the whole rope, with all its attachments, fell to the ground. The Mongols at that moment entered, and although I concealed my bone, it was still a question whether they suspected me of the deed; however, very little harm was done, for they replaced the rope in its former position. Having entered the courtyard, we found a large cave some thirty feet high, and of the same diameter, inside the rock. But even still more remarkable than the cave itself is the entrance here of a subterranean passage, running all the way to the salt lake of Koko Nor. This wonderful place and the courtyard is said to have been the work of some superhuman agency, for the stones of the wall itself are considered to be too big and heavy for any mortal man to have placed there. The place is called Kanjur Rungyum, which means "sacred writings, not built by men."

At midday we halted by a small stream at the foot of a pass, called the Nicotine Kontal, so that the ponies might rest an hour or two before making the ascent. Our Mongols, for ever thinking of their Bana enemies, determined to improve the hour by a little target practice. It was a slow process, loading with powder and an irregular-shaped piece of lead, which was shoved down with a wooden ramrod, then placing the powder at the touch-hole, preparing the fuse, and resting the gun on the wooden rail which they raised to sight the gun before finally applying the fuse. They made far better practice at the target, which was 150 yards off, than we had anticipated.

THREE REMAINING MULES AT KOKO NOR.

After crossing this easy pass we travelled through a country of grass, and on the ninth day of our march sawin the distance the small hill, with its cairn called Hatuturgy on top, that lies at the western end of the large lake of Koko Nor. The following day we found the country inhabited by more Bana people living in their black tents; they were dotted about all over the land, with immense flocks of sheep and countless herds of tame yak.

That night was the coldest we experienced during our journey. There were twenty-seven degrees (Fahr.) of frost, but, although we were sleeping on the ground without any tent, our slumbers were sounder than they sometimes are in a bed of luxury.

We journeyed along the northern shore of this inland sea, for people in China, when visiting the Koko Nor, talk of spending a week at the sea. This salt lake is about 230 miles round, with a few small islands. By reason of its colour it is called the Blue Lake or Koko Nor.

As we marched along all day we overtook large herds of yak being driven to the Chinese markets, laden with salt or wool. At midday we made our halt by one of the several streams that run into the lake from the ranges of hills. At night-time it was impossible to find a spot which would be out of sight of these black tents. This induced our Mongols to take more precautions than ever for their safety.

Much to their dismay, we agreed that I should ride on ahead the following morning with Esau the last hundred miles or so to the Chinese border town of Tankar. We knew how well Rockhill had been received at the little inn there, and I hoped that I should come across Tibetans who would help us to arrange for our onward journey through China. I hoped to have all ready by the time Malcolm arrived with the Mongols.

ESAU AND I SET OFF—RECEPTION FROM THE BANAS—WE ARRIVE AT TANKAR—A FRIENDLY GUIDE—AN ABSURD TIP—DR. RIJNHART—TEA WITH LHASSA OFFICIALS—ARRIVAL OF MALCOLM AND THE MONGOLS—CHEN-LAO-PAN—CHINESE ETIQUETTE.

At daybreak on the 12th October, Esau and I, after filling ourselves with tea and tsampa, mounted the strongest two of the Mongol ponies. Our saddlebags were filled with food such as we had eaten at breakfast and a supply of cold meat. We also carried some rugs, for it was probable that we should have to spend two more nights in the wilds before reaching Tankar.

After riding some ten miles quietly over the prairie land, we entered a large camp of Bana men, with whom were living several lamas, who came out to inquire who we might be and were friendly enough in their conversation; most of the Bana men were away tending their flocks.

We rode on again for a considerable distance before we could find the wherewithal to boil some tea. There were the remnants of a very old Mongol encampment, where we gathered together some argols and a few sticks, and close by was water in the shape of a patch of snow, which even then had not melted. Before leaving we made an erection of mud, into which we placed a stick with a note fastened to it. This was to let Malcolm know that we were getting along all right.

We rode on till late in the afternoon, when we came tothe foot of a pass which forms the watershed of the Koko Nor and the Sining Ho. Here were grass, water, and dried argols, and fearing darkness might be on us before we could cross the pass, we unsaddled and prepared to spend the night. A few miles south of us lay the small salt lake of Baga Nor, quite close to the Koko Nor; to the west of us there were large camps of the Bana men, who were ignorant of our existence, for we had encamped in a depression of the ground and our two ponies grazed in secrecy.

While Esau was busy preparing the tea I collected a large sack of argols, that we might keep up a fire throughout the night, for there was a bitterly cold wind which blew down upon us from the north-east.

We saddled our ponies early the next morning, and found we had a nine-mile ride before reaching the top of the pass. There were two passes some five or six miles apart, and here were living more Bana people, with immense flocks as usual. It was certainly a chilly abode at this time of the year. We experienced this to our discomfort, for we were caught in a heavy snowstorm. At the second pass we met a large party of Tibetan lamas dressed in gay garments of red and yellow, the colours standing out particularly bright against the falling snow.

As soon as we commenced the descent we followed a small stream, the Sining Ho, and after twenty-two miles stopped to make tea in a large grassy valley dotted with more black tents and flocks. Whilst busily engaged with our breakfast an old shepherd came to see us, from whom we inquired whether we could reach Tankar that same evening. "Yes," he replied, "if your ponies are good enough, you will get there this evening," which was certainly wisdom.

We journeyed on till after sunset with no signs of Tankar; we had still followed the Sining Ho, which flowed between precipitous hills, with only space enough for the narrowtrack on its right bank. We were just moving along looking for a suitable camp when we found a few more Bana tents in front of us. Our reception was anything but civil, and we had some anxiety that the nomads might steal our ponies during the night, for it was impossible for us to travel along in the dark. We chose a spot on the lower ground by the water's edge, out of sight, and met with no mishap. With the first streak of daylight we were drinking our tea, and were soon on the move again. After marching for one mile we had to cross the river, which, by reason of the recent storms, had swollen considerably, and a dry passage could not be made; the water rose up over our ponies' hips, and the bottom of the river was uneven and uncertain, with big boulders.

We then entered what is called the grass country, whither the inhabitants of Tankar send their flocks to fatten. After six miles we passed a compact little village planted on the other side of the river. The land here and all down the river had been cultivated, in fact, every inch of ground. Some of the crops grew close up by the walls of the village, while others grew on the hillsides and slopes, where it looked impossible for crops to grow. Most of them had been cut, and the villagers in their blue garments were busily engaged in gathering them in.

We still followed the stream, the pathway being uneven with rocks and boulders, whilst the hills on our side rose close from the water's edge. After a short while we came to a pretty rustic-looking bridge, which invited one over the river to a snug monastery that nestled amongst the trees and bushes. The name of this monastery is Gompa Soba, and had I followed my own inclination and visited the place, kindness and hospitality would alone have been exhibited, as we afterwards learnt.

From here the road to Tankar, such as it is, passes through a cultivated district with a continuation ofstraggling villages and tall poplars. Being very hungry, and over-anxious to reach Tankar, the road in consequence appeared to be interminable. Perhaps this is what made Rockhill state that the distance from Tankar to Gompa Soba was thirteen miles, whereas, in reality, it is not much more than half the distance.

As we proceeded, the number of passers-by increased, and they appeared to take as much interest in little Ruby as they did in Esau and myself.

I told Esau to address some of these people in the Tibetan language, to try and find out how much further Tankar was, and any other information about the place. Many were thus accosted, and many without success, till at length we met a nice-looking elderly Chinaman, who was a merchant. He told us, to our great delight and astonishment, that there were two white doctors, one a lady, living at Tankar. He also told us of the little inn where we could get some sort of accommodation.

It was noon when we at length entered the town by the western gate, a great relief to our weary ponies. We began to ride through the main street, busy, dirty, and narrow, with a large crowd of Chinese, and a sprinkling of Mongols and Tibetans too. As we wended our way, observed by all, I told Esau to shout out in the Tibetan tongue for somebody to show us the way to the inn. Without avail we traversed the whole length of Tankar, and then tried a new expediency. We retraced our steps as far as the busiest corner we had seen, and calling a halt there, Esau in a loud voice again and again repeated the question.

This proceeding of ours naturally attracted a large crowd, and so pressed were we on all sides, that I thought it wise to back out of it. As soon as we had almost got ourselves clear, we found a man alongside of us who replied in Tibetan, "I'll show you the way to the inn." I smiledand nodded in acknowledgment of his kindness, and we moved off, followed by a crowd filled with wonderment as to where we had sprung from, especially as we were unaccompanied by any following or baggage animals.

We very shortly entered the door of the inn, which we found consisted of a very dirty square yard surrounded on all sides by stables or tiny rooms void of any furniture. Having been so far successful in finding it, the next thing was to procure food for the ponies and then for ourselves. Curiously enough, I could discover no innkeeper, for I had hoped to find a hearty welcome from the same man who had helped Rockhill, but what I considered of more importance at that moment was the discovery of a small stack of green grass at the further end of the yard. I at once went for it and began pulling out some of the grass, but this operation did not last very long, for I was caught hold of from all sides and was given to understand that the grass was not for my use. Just then our Tibetan speaking friend returned, whom I sent with Esau carrying a rupee to try and buy some grass. Now that I was left alone with Ruby we both attracted much attention from the people, all of whom, in turn, felt my hat, my coat, and my pants, to see of what material they were made, whilst others still more inquisitive felt my knees, for a Chinaman imagines we are blessed with no knee-caps. Esau was not long away, but had been unsuccessful on his errand, for no one would change the rupee because there was a crown on the Queen's head. I therefore selected a crownless one, which was more suited to their taste. This very soon produced a bundle of hay and a handful of small brass coins called "cash." This was, indeed, a windfall, and we felt we already had a firmer footing in the land. As a matter of fact, the few rupees we had left were not sufficient to pay off our Mongols, so without assistance we should have fared badly. Our friend then volunteered to run off and tell the white man of my arrival.He could not have lived very far away, for he was soon back again.

I then ordered Esau to reward the Chinaman for all the trouble he had taken for us, so Esau, straightway pulling forth his coins, offered him a single cash. To our surprise he declined it with a smile, while Esau and I remarked that these Chinese were by no means the money-loving race they were generally represented to be. The narration of our first experience in Chinese money matters caused many a laugh amongst the good missionaries we afterwards came across, for the man we had offered a single cash to was a merchant of Tankar of no small importance, whilst the value of a single cash is equal to about the thirtieth portion of a penny. One might as well have offered sixpence to a head keeper at home after a big shoot.

I was just about to sally forth to try and purchase some bread, for I had noticed some at the corner only a short distance from the inn, when some one hurriedly trotted in and at once dismounted from his pony. He was somewhat better dressed than the ordinary crowd around, and on seeing me he came straight towards me. I could hardly make up my mind whether he was a European or a Chinaman, and when he addressed me in a mixture of French and Chinese I was still more mystified, so to simplify matters I replied, "I'm an Englishman," and held my hand out to him. He eagerly seized it and gave me the heartiest shake I had received for many a long day, and I felt thankful that we had found a European and a friend anxious to help us in this out-of-the-way place.

Mr. Rijnhart, for that was his name, was a Dutch missionary, and had only taken up his abode in Tankar within the last three months. He said, "You must come at once and live with me and my wife." In thanking him, I replied that it was impossible for me to do that, for I had nothingbut what was on my back. With genuine hospitality he remarked that if such was the case it was more imperative than ever that I should come and live in his house. In another moment we were trotting through the street in single file, chatting all the while, when, suddenly turning to the left, we very shortly afterwards drew up at Rijnhart's little house. One step up out of the narrow lane landed us in an open courtyard, where his kind-hearted wife, Dr. Rijnhart, was waiting to welcome us, as well as Mr. Hall, of the China Inland Mission, who had come over to Tankar from Sining, and had only just returned with the Rijnharts from making a trip to the sea of Koko Nor. So it was indeed fortunate not to have arrived in Tankar during their absence. The Rijnharts had a small house; there were rooms and stables all round the four sides of the yard. Great honour was shown to me in the eyes of the Chinese by allotting to my use the room that faced the entrance. The Rijnharts, when by themselves, lived in Chinese fashion, and were on the most friendly terms with all the Chinese and Tibetan officials in the town. Besides being engaged in the great aim of all missionaries, these two good people administered bodily medicine as well; in fact, their sole means of existence arose from the small sums and kind they received in return. They were, indeed, leading a hard, unselfish life, yet they were a very happy couple, for they knew they were doing good.

The fact of their receiving payment for their doctoring may meet with censure from some people, but the results should be looked at. At Tankar the Rijnharts had entirely won over the hearts of the Chinese, and in consequence of this, we ourselves were treated with courtesy and civility by the officials. The customary hatred of foreigners by the Chinese had disappeared from Tankar.

During the afternoon some Lhassa officials dropped in for a chat and a cup of tea, or, more correctly speaking, a smallbowl of tea. They were pleasant fellows with nice faces, and had been stationed at Tankar to see that justice was done to all Tibetans passing through this frontier town. There were four officials altogether, the most influential being called Sherchichaba, and the fourth Lusam Kindum. They took great interest in our journey, and were evidently pleased to meet me.

When they had departed, a very stout and hearty Chinaman stepped in. He was Chen-Lao-Pan, an agent for Forbes & Co., the wool merchants. He could only speak a few words of English, but as he laughed so frequently and so heartily, there was no feeling of awkwardness when with him. That night the many little homely comforts attended to by Dr. Rijnhart herself were highly appreciated by me, and I slept soundly.

The next morning we had leisure to look round before the arrival of Malcolm with the Mongols. Tankar is a busy little town of some 10,000 inhabitants, and owes its importance, not to its being a market centre, but to the fact that it is the first and last Chinese town passed by caravans journeying to and from Lhassa and Mongolia. It is a kind of depôt, for the merchandise is taken further in to the larger towns. We walked through the main street, and peeped into all the shops, most of which contained nick-nacks and a great deal of rubbish. We then mounted the walls on the western side, and noticed that great heaps of stones had been collected there for the people to throw down on to the heads of the Mohammedan rebels. Several mud houses had also been erected, where the soldiers had to sleep and keep watch in turn. From these walls a fine view of the surrounding country is gained. Tankar appears to be situated in a kind of hollow, with rising ground and hills on all sides. One of the principal hills lies north-west, and is called Ho La, or Ta Sand, and another hill lying south-east is called Ts'ai T'a by Tartarsand Wupu by Tibetans. From the summit of one of the south-eastern hills, where a single tree has been planted, the town of Sining can be seen, a distance of ninety li. This tree is a useful landmark for travellers, as it can be seen for a long distance along the road. We could see, too, the river, which is here called the Ta Ho by the Chinese, and Ch'enkook by Mongols of the Tsaidam, running merrily through a land of cultivation, the most plentiful crops being wheat, barley, oats, millet, pease, and a little linseed and opium.

We had no sooner returned to Rijnhart's little house when Malcolm and the Mongols arrived, so our party was once more reunited. Since leaving Leh we had travelled over 1,983 miles, and for between three and four months had been at a height of about 1,600 feet above the sea level. In spite of the pressing invitations of our hosts, we decided to remain only one day at Tankar. It was now the middle of October, and before very long the severe winter of these parts would be upon us; furthermore, we were already due back in India some six weeks ago. We agreed to make the most of our short stay, so in the afternoon we visited the Yamen, in order to pay our respects to the "ting," or mayor, of Tankar. We spent some minutes in the first outer courtyard, which was decorated with some huge imitation stone lions, while our visiting card was being taken to this chief official. The people, as usual, took advantage of the delay to feel and inspect our clothes, and the state they were in would alone have warranted this scrutiny, let alone the curiosity these people exhibited with regard to the texture of the cloth. We were glad at length to escape and be ushered into the presence of the "ting," where all respect and attention was shown to us. We were given the great seat of honour, and provided with some delightful tea. We apologised for the dilapidated state we were in, but the "ting" replied that he had carefully read our passport,and knew we were great military officials from India, and quite understood our present circumstances; in fact, he wondered we had arrived with anything at all. Whilst chatting away, we inquired how many soldiers were in the town. None now, he replied, for all had been disbanded since the rebellion had been quelled. When our visit had lasted as long as was polite, we rose to depart, and the "ting," in order to show his great respect for us, accompanied us as far as the big gates, walking at a slow rate. These had been thrown open wide, as a still further sign of respect, where, amidst much bowing and raising of the hands to the head, we eventually got off.

We then made our way to the house of the Hsieht'ai, or Colonel, and why there should be a Colonel with no soldiers seemed ridiculous. However, this was no business of ours, but as he was the next important official in Tankar, it was our duty to visit him. He was a rather enfeebled, elderly gentleman, but very kind to us, and that very evening we received presents from him, consisting of a sheep for ourselves, and grass and liou or pease for our ponies. He asked many questions with regard to the Indian revenue, its army, etc., and asked how many men we ourselves commanded, and, in order to do ourselves justice, we calculated a single Englishman was equal to a great number of Chinamen, which he evidently did not.

Our third visit was to Chen-Lao-Pan, who lived in luxury and comfort and on the fat of the land. He sent us forth rejoicing with a bottle of Chinese wine and a packet of tobacco from Lancheo, the capital of Kansu, so famous for its tobacco grown and manufactured there.

At afternoon tea it is polite manners for the host to take some bread or cake from the guest's plate and place it on the table before him, and before drinking tea to raise the cup in both hands and nod to one's friends, who return thesalutation in the same manner. It is also considered polite for a guest, when offered the seat of honour, to refuse it, when the host will at once try and put his guest into it. A show of resistance is at once made in return. The consequence is, that before the seat is eventually occupied by the guest, as it always is, a struggle of a few minutes duration is carried out against its occupation.

A VISIT TO CHEN-LAO-PAN—COLONEL YANG—THE DAUGHTER OF PRINCE KOKO NOR—A VISIT TO THE MONASTERY OF KUMBUM.

The following morning we visited the Lhassa officials, but unfortunately found only one of them at home, Lusam Kindum, who was very friendly, and at once plied us with tea. He said that he himself was shortly going to Pekin with the big triennial tribute to the Emperor, consisting of pulo cloth, saffron, and incense. He showed us a rifle of German make which he had bought from one of the soldiers during the rebellion for eighteen taels, or £3 12s.

We made Lusam Kindum a small present of a knife, and he in return presented Malcolm with a beautifully embroidered golden cap such as he himself wore, and to me gave a "scarf of blessing," or k'artag, under which it was given, and I in return held this up to my forehead with a gentle nod. He, too, came down from the "k'ang" and accompanied us as far as the gates, which were opened in our honour.

We again visited Chen-Lao-Pan, where the "ting" and the Colonel turned up, so that the conversation and laughter waxed strong and loud, while the tea, the cakes, and pipes were liberally distributed. All knew that Chen-Lao-Pan possessed the best of everything, and was liberal with it withal. To add to the gathering, the Colonel's two little daughters, both well dressed, were trotted in to pay their respects. They must have been very young, for they were very little,and could scarcely walk, yet they made their curtseys all round in the most polite fashion, showing at what an early age the better educated Chinese are taught to a nicety the correct manners of society. As soon as the mayor and the Colonel, whose name was Yang, and his two little daughters had departed, we set about business, and the object of our second visit. This was the loan of some money to help us across China. Nothing could have delighted more the heart of this good-natured Chinaman than his freely lending us sixty taels, as well as giving us letters of credit to other agents throughout the country. Nor could we thank him sufficiently for the kind help he had given us. The lack of money at this time was our greatest difficulty. How could we cross China when we were penniless?

BUDDHIST PRAYER-WHEEL, WITH SCARF OF BLESSING.

During the afternoon the Rijnharts were visited by the daughter of the Prince of Koko Nor. She was so splendidly dressed that I could not resist taking a snap-shot of her whilst being engaged in conversation with Dr. Rijnhart. We were sorry at having to leave Tankar on the morrow, especially as Rijnhart himself was coming with us and we were leaving his good wife to live alone; but we were thankful to know that in this busy little town the greatest officials were her staunchest friends.

DR. RIJNHART.DAUGHTER OF THE PRINCE OF KOKO NOR.

A Visit to the Monastery of Kumbum.

About 1p.m.on October 17th, after having said "Good-bye" to Dr. Rijnhart, our hospitable hostess of the lastfew days, and having sent off our baggage by the direct road to Sining, we started for the famous monastery of Kumbum, which lies about seventy li south-east of Tankar. Our party consisted of Mr. Peter Rijnhart, our two selves, and Lassoo, the cook. We rode our Mongol ponies, on which we fastened our saddlebags, with all that we were likely to require.

Very lucky we were to be able to pay this visit under the guidance of Mr. Rijnhart, for not only has he a more intimate knowledge of the monastery than any other living man, but having made his home for two years in Lusar, ten months of which were spent in the monastery itself, he has made friends with a very large number of its inmates, more especially with Mina Fu-yeh, one of the greatest incarnate saints in the place,[4]in whose house we were to spend the night. Just outside the east gate of Tankar we passed a party of Tibetans, in the midst of whom was a big living Buddha, who had recently been appointed abbot of the monastery of Ta Koe Ri by the Talé Lama. On his way from Lhassa he had been attacked by a party of Mohammedans. All his attendants had been killed, and he alone had escaped to the mountains, where he wandered about for twenty-three days without food, till at last he found his way to Tankar. He was now on his way to take up his appointment, having recovered from the effects of his privations.

BRIDGE IN CHINA, FIVE MILES FROM TANKAR. MISSIONARY AND MULE ON BRIDGE.

For the first fifteen li our road lay along the left bank of the Hsi Ho, till we crossed it by a bridge close to the village of Hsang Ho Ri (Sounding River). On the way we overtook strings of camels laden with the yearly tribute of pulo and incense from the Talé Lama to the Emperor. We noticed several caves in the cliffs inhabited by men—fortunate beings, for they had no rent to pay. At HsangHo Ri is a small inn where flour and tea can be bought, and close by were some opium fields. This bridge was one of the many in Kansu which are built on the cantilever principle. They are plentiful throughout the Western Himalayas, but this was the first we had seen in China. We now had a stiffish climb to the top of a pass called the Wu La, whence we got a magnificent view over range after range of mountains, stretching away to the south. The descent was comparatively easy, and we were able to note the results of the recent Mohammedan rebellion. Every village that was not in ruins had loop-holed walls and fighting towers which had been specially erected. Ourcompanion, Rijnhart, had spent some time in General Wei's[5]camp, he and his wife doctoring the wounded, thereby saving many a life, and earning the gratitude of their patients. He was, therefore, well qualified to point out various spots along our road where skirmishes or serious fighting had taken place. Many of the villages had been deserted, but the people were now returning, and beginning to again get their fields under cultivation. It will, however, be many a long day before grain and market produce regain their normal price. Rich and fertile though this little bit of Kansu is, it will be fully two years before it can recover from the trying times it passed through in 1895.

BRIDGE OF SHANG-HO-RI (SOUNDING RIVER) ON THE ROAD TO TANKAR.

Once, just about sunset, we missed our way, and once one of the horses, while being led, slipped down a steep bank into a ravine, luckily without injuring himself or any one else. Otherwise our ride was devoid of incident, but the moon was high in the heavens by the time we arrived at our destination. We were quite unexpected, so it was some time before we could get any one to pay attention to our knocking at the stout wooden doors of the monastery; but at length it was opened by one of the great man's servants, who, as soon as he recognised Mr. Rijnhart, was all civility. The door we went in at was not the front door, as only the owner of the house was supposed to use that, and it would have been a great breach of etiquette on our part to have gone in by it. Our door led us into the stable yard, and while word was being taken to Mina Fu-yeh that Mr. Rijnhart, or Lin Hsien-shêng, as he was generally called, had arrived with two foreign friends, we busied ourselves looking after the horses, loosening girths, getting straw, etc. In a few moments we went upstairs, and, after passing through an open court ornamented in the middle with a flower bed, were ushered into the presence of one of the holiest men on the eastern border of Tibet.

AUDIENCE ROOM OF THE KAMBO (ABBOT) OF KUMBUM.The pictures around the room are representations of many idols embroidered or painted on silk scrolls. In the gilded cupboard to the right, behind each pane of glass, is a beautiful image of some Buddha. In front of the writing Buddha stands a copper prayer cylinder. Beside the Kambo, who sits behind the table, lies a stick on the end of which is an embroidered cylinder, suspended, which hangs over the left end of the table: this is used by him to touch the heads of worshippers who bow before him.—This description, and the photograph from which the picture is taken, have been kindly supplied by Mr. Peter Rijnhart, the missionary at Tankar.

AUDIENCE ROOM OF THE KAMBO (ABBOT) OF KUMBUM.

The pictures around the room are representations of many idols embroidered or painted on silk scrolls. In the gilded cupboard to the right, behind each pane of glass, is a beautiful image of some Buddha. In front of the writing Buddha stands a copper prayer cylinder. Beside the Kambo, who sits behind the table, lies a stick on the end of which is an embroidered cylinder, suspended, which hangs over the left end of the table: this is used by him to touch the heads of worshippers who bow before him.—This description, and the photograph from which the picture is taken, have been kindly supplied by Mr. Peter Rijnhart, the missionary at Tankar.

MINA FU-YEH (BUDDHA).

Mina Fu-yeh[6]is a man twenty-seven years of age, or twenty-eight by Chinese calculation, and has been in the monastery since he was seven. Considerably below medium height, and of slight build, he has a very pleasant face, especially when lit up by a happy smile, as it often is. It struck us both that the sedentary indoor life he is more or less bound to live was telling on his constitution, and that if he had spent more of his time in the open air, instead of in reading, writing, and meditation, his health would benefit greatly. However that may be, it did not interfere withhis hospitality, for the moment we were seated he told us that food was being prepared, and that it would shortly be ready. He was living in a small room about twelve feet square, with massive stone walls, squatting on the "k'ang" or raised platform which occupied the greater portion of the room. On this "k'ang" was a low square table only a few inches high, holding a beautiful tea-cup made of stone, with a silver cover. On his right was a darkly-stained cupboard, wherein he kept his books, writing materials, and other nick-nacks. Hanging on the wall opposite him, and in no way harmonising with the other surroundings, was a coloured picture of the day illustrating some English boys and girls out of school. This had been given him by Mr. Rijnhart, who meanwhile told him all about us—who we were, where we had come from, and gave him a general outline of our journey, in all of which he took considerable interest, and, through Rijnhart, he asked us several questions, including the inevitable one, "Aren't you cold in those thin clothes?" No Chinaman or Tibetan seems able to grasp the European fashion of wearing tight clothing; to them our outer clothes appear to fit so closely that there can be no room for any underneath.

Mina Fu-yeh speaks Chinese, Mongolian, and Tibetan with equal ease and fluency, so that any questions we wished to ask we put to Rijnhart, who translated them into Chinese, the answer being received the reverse way. In this manner we were able to get a reliable statement about the priests who live on the "Dragon Colt's Island," the island in the Koko Nor, mention of which has been made by so many travellers. While marching along the north shore of the lake, we had just been able to make out the island away towards the south side, but no two men gave the same account of its inhabitants. Mina Fu-yeh said that there are twelve or thirteen priests living there, that they keep sheep and goats, and that, being free from depredationsof wolves, their flocks thrive well. In winter, when the lake is frozen over, they cross to the mainland and lay in stores for the following summer. He himself, he added, was thinking of building a house there and getting a boat of some sort, so that he would be able to go backwards and forwards at any time of year. I don't suppose this idea of his will ever come to anything.

One was naturally diffident about asking a perfect stranger a great deal about his religious tenets, for although our host was a very liberal-minded man and far more ready to converse than most Tibetans, there was always the feeling that one might touch on some delicate subject and quite unintentionally annoy him. We therefore contented ourselves with asking Rijnhart privately what he had told him on other occasions. His explanation of how he came to be recognised as the reincarnation of the previous Mina Fu-yeh shows how convincing the proofs of identity are to one who has been brought up to accept and believe in the theory. He relates how, when very small, various articles were laid out from which he was to select those which had been his own in his previous life-time. Among these was a number of rosaries from which he had no difficulty in choosing his own, "For," he says, "I had used it daily for years; how is it possible that I should not know it from among all these others? Of course I knew it." So on with other articles; his identity was established without a doubt, and he became the heir to the accumulated property of fifteen former lifetimes.[7]He talks freely of his last lifetime, pointing out the site of the house in which he lived, and which was burnt down about two years before his death; it was, he says, a far finer house than the one he now occupies.

In the course of conversation, he told us that he had spent some time in studies at Pekin, and that he had also been on a journey to the Eastern Mongols, where he read the sacred books to all who wished it. He selected them as they were more pious and more wealthy than the Tibetans or Western Mongols. While in Pekin he had had some dealings with foreigners, buying things in the stores, and was full of admiration for their honesty. He was much amused when we told him we were sorry we could not say the same for the Chinese. Most of his own people, those for whose spiritual welfare he is chiefly responsible, come from round Kuei-Tê, where he himself was born; he has also a certain number of Tibetans and Mongols from the Koko Nor and Tsaidam. He was till recently Ta K'anpo or abbot of the monastery, a position of great dignity, being in fact the principal official.

All officials are elected for a period of three years, and the abbot during that time has a very peculiar privilege. He is allowed to send out eight parties of priests in different directions for three months carrying with them Ts.2,000 worth of merchandise. This they trade for sheep, cattle, horses, etc., which are sold at considerable profit on their return. All this profit goes into the pocket of the abbot, who runs no risk beyond the Ts.2,000 originally invested. All other expenses are defrayed out of the monastery funds.

Mina Fu-yeh had been most unfortunate in his business matters while abbot, for in 1894 he had sold a great proportion of his horses, etc., to Mohammedans. They, in accordance with the universal Chinese custom, deferred payment till New Year's Day, by which time the rebellion had broken out, some of his debtors had been killed, and others had left the country, so that he only collected a tithe of what was due to him; in 1895 no party was sent out, owing to the disturbed state of the country, and in 1896 he had only sent out Ts.1,000 worth of stuff. With this he haddone extremely well, but only made sufficient profit to cover his losses of 1894.[8]

While we had been conversing thus, our food, tea and large quantities of boiled mutton, was being prepared and was now brought in, a large dishful for the three of us, and a separate smaller dish for our host, as is only fitting for one who lives in such an odour of sanctity as he does.

We were very hungry after our ride, and in a few moments we were busy eating Tibetan fashion,i.e., pocket-knives and fingers, each one selecting from the joint whatever morsel took his fancy; to do the thing properly each bone should be scraped scrupulously clean, but, though we did our best, our host could give us points at this. The ease and rapidity with which he cleaned up the most awkward-looking bones came as a revelation. As a matter of fact he had already had his evening meal, but etiquette compelled him to eat again to encourage us. We were waited upon by the treasurer of the establishment and by a jolly little boy, about twelve years old, a disciple of Mina Fu-yeh's, under whose tuition he was studying the sacred writings. In the intervals offilling up our bowls with tea and pressing food upon us, he amused himself and the company by teasing his teacher's dog, a very fat little Pekin pug, as it lay beside its master.

When we had eaten our fill we rose to say "Good-night," and apologised for having thrust ourselves in without due notice, having come, too, just when our host must have been about to go to bed. To this he replied that he was delighted that we had come, that he hoped that we would go all over the place, taking pictures if we wished to. The priests would be occupied in public reading in the big hall, but we should be free to go where we wished; he added that he was only writing extracts from the books when we came in, and that we had not disturbed him at all.

Of course we asked if we might see his writing, and when produced we were most unfeignedly astonished by it. Never have I seen more beautifully even writing, or better formed characters. Every here and there a word was written in red ink. On asking why this was we were told that it was the character for "Sum," or three, and stood for the Trinity of Buddha.

It was very late, so having again said "Good-night," we went to bed and slept soundly. The next morning we were up betimes, as we had a busy day before us. At daybreak we were awakened by hearing two short blasts from a long horn, followed by a louder blast which was dwelt upon till it gradually died away. This was the warning to the 4,000 priests at Kumbum to get ready for prayer; it was the commencement of a new day. But, early as we were, our host was before us, and when we left our room we found him making preparations for breakfast. He explained that his steward and several of his servants were away, so he had to do a great deal himself. It seemed strange to see an incarnate saint, who is held in the deepest reverence and worshipped by men, busying himself unlocking drawers, producing sugar and butter, and generally attending to themost trivial and mundane matters, chattering away all the time like an ordinary mortal.

Thanks, however, to these endeavours, our breakfast of tea and tsamba was soon ready. Rijnhart, of course, is an adept at mixing up the butter, meal, and sugar into the correct dough, but neither of us had acquired the art. For some time our host watched us in silence, smiling occasionally at our awkwardness, but at last he offered to do it for us, adding hastily to Rijnhart, "Please tell them my hands are quite clean." Breakfast over, we lost no time in starting, armed with the kodak, to visit the many temples and shrines which form the monastery.

When we arrived the previous evening, it was too dark to get any idea of how the monastery lay, but we were enabled to do so. Kumbum itself lies at the junction of two small valleys, one coming from the east, the other from the south, the buildings lying to the south of the former, while on the north is the "Precious Hill," which keeps off all evil influences. On the east side of the other valley are most of the private dwellings, while on the west are temples, chief among which is the famous "Gold-Tiled Temple" of Tsong K'aba. Lower down, below the junction of these two valleys, is the little town of Lusar. Altogether in Kumbum there are close on 4,000 priests, the vast majority of which, say seventy per cent., are Tibetans; of the rest about twenty per cent. are Mongols, and the remainder Chinese. Nearly all of them speak Chinese with a greater or less degree of fluency, but there are a few who speak only Mongol and Tibetan.

It has, I believe, been stated in print, though I have never seen it, that Kumbum is entirely Chinese in its government and organisation. That this is not the case needs no further proof than the fact that, in all things temporal, it is under the Tsong T'u, or Prince of the Koko Nor, a mandarin appointed by the Emperor to govern all his Tibetan dependenciesin this direction; he lives at Sining, and is known among Tibetans and Mongols as the "Seling Amban"; on the other hand, if Kumbum were really Chinese, it would be subservient to the Fu of Sining, and would be governed by the Fu T'ai. There is, moreover, a distinct boundary line, separating the territory which comes under Fu T'ai from that which comes under the Tsong T'u, those living within the boundary paying taxes to the monastery, while those outside pay to Sining Fu.

THE STORY OF THE FIRST BUDDHA OF THE EMPIRE—THE SACRED TREE—THE GOLD-TILED TEMPLE—PARTING FROM MINA FU-YEH—THE GREEN GLAZED-TILE TEMPLE—THE FLOWER TEMPLE—SIGNS OF THE MOHAMMEDAN REBELLION—AT THE MISSION HOUSE.

When we got outside Mina Fu-yeh's house, the first thing that caught our eyes was a row of eight small towers or chortens, like those one sees in Ladakh, from which, I believe, Kumbum gets its Chinese name of "T'ah Ri Ssi," the "Monastery of the Eight Towers." From these we crossed by a small bridge to the eastern side of the valley, where many of the private houses are, and got a good bird's-eye view of the whole place. Unfortunately it was a dull, cloudy day, unsuitable for taking photos with a kodak, so I did not get as many as I should have liked, but while we were standing looking across the valley, a number of priests came out from the public reading hall, and I managed to get a pretty fair picture of them.

Principal among the private dwellings is that of A-chia Fu-yeh, who belongs to Kumbum, and is the first Buddha of the Empire. The story is, that just before he died, the Emperor promised him that if, on his return to this world, he would repeat all the conversations they had had, in his then lifetime, he would make him the first Buddha in the Empire. In due time he was reincarnated, and of course had no difficulty in doing what was required, and theEmperor fulfilled his promise. A-chia Fu-yeh now lives almost entirely in Pekin, in the presence of the Emperor, and rarely visits his distant home. A fire broke out in his house in 1895, which spoilt it a good deal, and it has not been restored yet.

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