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 Hsang Ho 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. Our companion, 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.