g the brightness of the sun, and
the verdure of our beautiful plains; but prayer is a great consolation in
my affliction. Brother, it seems to me that thy tongue has a peculiar
accent: art thou not a man of our tribes?" "I am a poor Lama of the
East. I made a vow to visit the temples that have been raised in the
Mongol countries, and to prostrate myself before the sainted personages I
should meet on my way. An accident has happened to me near this spot; I
have broken the girth of my saddle, and I have come to thy tent to mend
it." "I am blind," said the old man; "I cannot myself help thee; but
look round the tent, there are several straps, and thou canst take that
which will best answer thy purpose." While the stranger was selecting a
good strap, wherewith to make a new girth, the old man spoke: "O Lama of
eastern lands; happy art thou to be able to pass thy days visiting our
sacred monuments! The most magnificent temples are in the Mongol
countries; the Poba (Thibetians) will never attain anything like them:
'tis in vain they apply their utmost efforts to build such in their
beautiful valley; the foundations they put will always be sapped by the
waves of a subterranean sea, of which they do not suspect the existence."
After a moment's silence the old man added: "I have uttered these words
because thou art a Mongol Lama; but thou must lock them up in thy heart,
and never communicate them to a single person. If, in thy pilgrimages,
thou meetest a Lama of the kingdom of Oui, guard well thy tongue, for the
revealing my secret will cause the ruin of our country. When a Lama of
the kingdom of Oui shall know that in his valley there exists a
subterranean sea, the waters of that sea will forthwith depart thence,
and inundate our prairies."

He had scarcely uttered the last word, when the stranger rose and said to
him, "Unfortunate old man, save thyself, save thyself in haste: the
waters will speedily be here, for I am a Lama of the kingdom of Oui." So
saying, he jumped on his horse, and disappeared over the desert.

These words struck like a thunderbolt upon the poor old man. After a
moment of dull stupor he gave way to cries and groans. While yielding to
this excess of grief his son arrived, bringing home from pasture a small
herd of cattle. "My son," cried the old man, "saddle thy horse on the
instant, take thy sabre, and gallop off towards the West: thou wilt
overtake a foreign Lama, whom thou must kill, for he