freely at his cell, and consult him about things past,
present, and to come. At this time, large offerings failed not to pour
in from every quarter: the sainted Lama kept none for himself, but
distributed them among the poor of the district. What did he want with
riches and the good things of this world? His cell, dug out of the
living rock, never required the least repair; his yellow robe, lined with
sheepskin, served him alike in all seasons of the year. On every sixth
day only did he take a repast, consisting of a little tea and
barley-meal, which charitable persons in the vicinity passed to him by
means of a long cord, which descended from the top of the grotto to the
foot of the mountain. Several Lamas had placed themselves under the
direction of this hermit, and had resolved to adopt his manner of life.
They dwelt in cells, dug near that of their master. The most celebrated
of his disciples was the father of the great Proul-Tamba. He, also, had
been a famous warrior, and ever at the head of the people of this
country. Having reached an advanced age, and seeing his son capable of
being his successor, he had conferred on him the title of Grand Chief.
Then shaving his head, and assuming the sacred habit of the Lamas, he had
retired into solitude, leaving to younger and more vigorous hands the
charge of terminating the contest which had commenced between the two
Houtouktous of the province of Kham.

[Picture: The Hermit of the Mountain]

The sun had not set when we reached the station of Wang-Tsa, fifty lis
from Bagoung. Wang-Tsa is a small village built at the foot of a hill of
black loam, covered with thickets of holly and cypress. The houses,
built of the black soil, communicate to the village an extremely sombre
and funereal aspect. At Wang-Tsa, we began to observe traces of the
civil war, which was laying waste these countries. The Chinese barracks,
built of large fir planks, had been entirely burnt; its remains, half
charred, which lay about, served throughout the evening to keep up a
magnificent fire. Upon setting out next morning, we observed a singular
alteration in the caravan. The horses and oxen were the same that we had
taken from Bagoung, but all the Thibetian guides had vanished; not one of
them remained: women of Wang-Tsa had taken their place. Upon inquiring
the meaning of this new and surprising arrangement: "To-day," answered
the Lama Dchiamdchang, "we shall reach Ga