he smaller and tenderer
leaves of the plant, which they simply infuse in boiling water, so as to
give it a golden tint; the coarser leaves, with which are mixed up the
smaller tendrils, are pressed together in a mould, in the form and of the
size of the ordinary house brick. Thus prepared, it becomes an article
of considerable commerce, under the designation of Tartar-tea, the
Tartars being its exclusive consumers, with the exception of the
Russians, who drink great quantities of it. When required for use, a
piece of the brick is broken off, pulverised, and boiled in the kettle,
until the water assumes a reddish hue. Some salt is then thrown in, and
effervescence commences. When the liquid has become almost black, milk
is added, and the beverage, the grand luxury of the Tartars, is then
transferred to the tea-pot. Samdadchiemba was a perfect enthusiast of
this tea. For our parts, we drank it in default of something better.

Next morning, after rolling up our tent, we quitted this asylum without
regret indeed, for we had selected and occupied it altogether without
preference. However, before departing, we set up, as an _ex-voto_ of our
gratitude for its reception of us for a night, a small wooden cross, on
the site of our fire-place, and this precedent we afterwards followed, at
all our encamping places. Could missionaries leave a more appropriate
memorial of their journey through the desert!

We had not advanced an hour's journey on our way, when we heard behind us
the trampling of many horses, and the confused sound of many voices. We
looked back, and saw hastening in our direction a numerous caravan.
Three horsemen soon overtook us, one of whom, whose costume bespoke him a
Tartar mandarin, addressed us with a loud voice, "Sirs, where is your
country?" "We come from the west." "Through what districts has your
beneficial shadow passed?" "We have last come from Tolon-Noor." "Has
peace accompanied your progress?" "Hitherto we have journeyed in all
tranquillity. And you: are you at peace? And what is your country?"
"We are Khalkhas, of the kingdom of Mourguevan." "Have the rains been
abundant? Are your flocks and herds flourishing?" "All goes well in our
pasture-grounds." "Whither proceeds your caravan?" "We go to incline
our foreheads before the Five Towers." The rest of the caravan had
joined us in the course of this abrupt and hurried conversation. We were
on the banks of a small stream, bordered