“The Thibetans are eminently religious. There exists at Lassa a touching custom which we are in some sort jealous of finding among infidels. In the evening as soon as the light declines, the Thibetans, men, women, and children, cease from all business and assemble in the principal parts of the city and in the public squares. When the groups are formed, every one sits down on the ground and begins slowly to chant his prayers in an undertone, and this religious concert produces an immense and solemn harmony throughout the city. The first time we heard it we could not help making a sorrowful comparison between this pagan town, where all prayed in common, with the cities of the civilized world, where people would blush to make the sign of the cross in public.
“The prayer chanted in these evening meetings varies according to the season of the year; that which they recite to the rosary is always the same, and is only composed of six syllables, om-mani-badme-khum. This formula, called briefly the mani, is not only heard from every mouth, but is everywhere written in the streets, in the interior of the houses, on every flag and streamer floating over the buildings, printed in the Landzee, Tartar, and Thibetan characters. The Lamas assert that the doctrine contained in these words is immense, and that the whole life of man is not sufficient to measure its depth and extent.”
The lowest of the monuments is five and the tallest eight feet in height. Near them are several flat stones with grooves in their surface, which lead to the supposition of their employment for sacrificial purposes. Mr. Chase told me at Nicolayevsk that he thought one of the monuments was used as an altar when the monastery flourished. There are no historical data regarding the ruins beyond those found on the stones.
Many of the Russians and Chinese believe the site was selected by Genghis Khan, and the monastery commemorated one of his triumphs. The natives look upon the spot with veneration, and frequently go there to practice their mysterious rites.
Before leaving Nicolayevsk I asked the captain of the Irigodah how fast his boat could steam. “Oh!” said he, “ten or twelve versts an hour.” Accustomed to our habit of exaggerating the powers of a steamer, I expected no more than eight or nine versts. I was surprised to find we really made twelve to fifteen versts an hour. Ten thousand miles from St. Louis and New Orleans I at last found what I sought for several years—a steamboat captain who understated the speed of his boat! Justice to the man requires the explanation that he did not own her.
ON THE AMOOR.
My second day on the Amoor was much like the first in the general features of the scenery. Hills and mountains on either hand; meadows bounding one bank or the other at frequent intervals; islands dotted here and there with pleasing irregularity, or stretching for many miles along the valley; forests of different trees, and each with its own particular hue; a canopy of hazy sky meeting ranges of misty peaks in the distance; these formed the scene. Some one asks if all the tongues in the world can tell how the birds sing and the lilacs smell. Equally difficult is it to describe with pen upon paper the beauties of that Amoor scenery. Each bend of the stream gave us a new picture. It was the unrolling of a magnificent panorama such as no man has yet painted. And what can I say? There was mountain, meadow, forest, island, field, cliff, and valley; there were the red leaves of the autumn maple, the yellow of the birch, the deep green of pine and hemlock, the verdure of the grass, the wide river winding to reach the sea, and we slowly stemming its current. How powerless are words to describe a scene like this!
The passengers of our boat were of less varied character than those on a Mississippi steamer. There were two Russian merchants, who joined us at meal times in the cabin but slept in the after part of the boat. One was owner of a gold mine two hundred miles north of Nicolayevsk, and a general dealer in everything along the Amoor. He had wandered over Mongolia and Northern China in the interest of commerce, and I greatly regretted my inability to talk with him and learn of the regions he had visited. He was among the first to penetrate the Celestial Empire under the late commercial treaty, and traveled so far that he was twice arrested by local authorities. He knew every fair from Leipsic to Peking, and had been an industrious commercial traveler through all Northern Asia.
Once, below Sansin, on the Songaree river, he was attacked by thieves where he had halted for the night. With a single exception his crew was composed of Chinese, and these ran away at the first alarm. With his only Russian companion he attempted to defend his property, but the odds were too great, especially as his gun could not be found. He was made prisoner and compelled to witness the plundering of his cargo. Every thing valuable being taken, the thieves left him.