evice without
going to a place of worship. He can give a whirl or two to half a
dozen within a hundred yards of where he buys his tea or sells his
sheep.

On every hand there is constant evidence that Urga is a sacred city.
It never can be forgotten even for a moment. The golden roofs of
scores of temples give back the sunlight, and the moaning chant of
praying lamas is always in the air. Even in the main street I have
seen the prostrate forms of ragged pilgrims who have journeyed far
to this Mecca of the lama faith. If they are entering the city for
the first time and crave exceeding virtue, they approach the great
temple on the hill by lying face down at every step and beating
their foreheads upon the ground. Wooden shrines of dazzling
whiteness stand in quiet streets or cluster by themselves behind the
temples. In front of each, raised slightly at one end, is a prayer
board worn black and smooth by the prostrated bodies of worshiping
Mongols.

Although the natives take such care for the repose of the spirit in
after life, they have a strong distaste for the body from which the
spirit has fled and they consider it a most undesirable thing to
have about the house. The stigma is imposed even upon the dying. In
Urga a family of Mongols had erected their _yurt_ in the courtyard
of one of our friends. During the summer the young wife became very
ill, and when her husband was convinced that she was about to die he
moved the poor creature bodily out of the _yurt_. She could die if
she wished, but it must not be inside his house.

The corpse itself is considered unclean and the abode of evil
spirits, and as such must be disposed of as quickly as possible.
Sometimes the whole family will pack up their _yurt_ and decamp at
once, leaving the body where it lies. More usually the corpse is
loaded upon a cart which is driven at high speed over a bit of rough
ground. The body drops off at some time during the journey, but the
driver does not dare look back until he is sure that the unwelcome
burden is no longer with him; otherwise he might anger the spirit
following the corpse and thereby cause himself and his family
unending trouble. Unlike the Chinese, who treat their dead with the
greatest respect and go to enormous expense in the burial, every
Mongol knows that his coffin will be the stomachs of dogs, wolves,
or birds. Indeed, the Chinese name for the raven is the "Mongol's
coffin."

The first day we camped in Urga, my wi