ing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha.
The Master was represented seated on a lotus the petals of which were
so deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoring
hierarchy of kings, elders, and old-time Buddhas. Below were
lotus-covered waters with fishes and water-birds. Two butterfly-winged
devas held a wreath over His head; above them another pair supported an
umbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat.

'The Lord! The Lord! It is Sakya Muni himself,' the lama half sobbed;
and under his breath began the wonderful Buddhist invocation:

To Him the Way, the Law, apart, Whom Maya held beneath her heart,
Ananda's Lord, the Bodhisat.

'And He is here! The Most Excellent Law is here also. My pilgrimage
is well begun. And what work! What work!'

'Yonder is the Sahib.' said Kim, and dodged sideways among the cases
of the arts and manufacturers wing. A white-bearded Englishman was
looking at the lama, who gravely turned and saluted him and after some
fumbling drew forth a note-book and a scrap of paper.

'Yes, that is my name,' smiling at the clumsy, childish print.

'One of us who had made pilgrimage to the Holy Places--he is now Abbot
of the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me,' stammered the lama. 'He spoke
of these.' His lean hand moved tremulously round.

'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am
here'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to my
office awhile.' The old man was trembling with excitement.

The office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the
sculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself down, his ear against a
crack in the heat-split cedar door, and, following his instinct,
stretched out to listen and watch.

Most of the talk was altogether above his head. The lama, haltingly at
first, spoke to the Curator of his own lamassery, the Such-zen,
opposite the Painted Rocks, four months' march away. The Curator
brought out a huge book of photos and showed him that very place,
perched on its crag, overlooking the gigantic valley of many-hued
strata.

'Ay, ay!' The lama mounted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles of Chinese
work. 'Here is the little door through which we bring wood before
winter. And thou--the English know of these things? He who is now
Abbot of Lung-Cho told me, but I did not believe. The Lord--the
Excellent One--He has honour here too? And His life is known?'

'It is a