name they bear in Thibet). Below, near
the river, are masses of rocks, in the form of long and large walls,
upon which are thrown, in apparent disorder, flat stones of different
colors and sizes. Upon these stones are engraved all sorts of prayers,
in Ourd, Sanscrit and Thibetan, and one can even find among them
inscriptions in Arabic characters. Without the knowledge of my carriers,
I succeeded in taking away a few of these stones, which are now in the
palace of the Trocadero.

Along the way, from Chargol, one finds frequently oblong mounds,
artificial constructions. After sunrise, with fresh horses, I resumed my
journey and stopped near the _gonpa_ (monastery) of Moulbek, which seems
glued on the flank of an isolated rock. Below is the hamlet of Wakkha,
and not far from there is to be seen another rock, of very strange form,
which seems to have been placed where it stands by human hands. In one
side of it is cut a Buddha several metres in height. Upon it are several
cylinders, the turning of which serves for prayers. They are a sort of
wooden barrel, draped with yellow or white fabrics, and are attached to
vertically planted stakes. It requires only the least wind to make them
turn. The person who puts up one of these cylinders no longer feels it
obligatory upon him to say his prayers, for all that devout believers
can ask of God is written upon the cylinders. Seen from a distance this
white painted monastery, standing sharply out from the gray background
of the rocks, with all these whirling, petticoated wheels, produce a
strange effect in this dead country. I left my horses in the hamlet of
Wakkha, and, followed by my servant, walked toward the convent, which is
reached by a narrow stairway cut in the rock. At the top, I was received
by a very fat lama, with a scanty, straggling beard under his chin--a
common characteristic of the Thibetan people--who was very ugly, but
very cordial. His costume consisted of a yellow robe and a sort of big
nightcap, with projecting flaps above the ears, of the same color. He
held in his hand a copper prayer-machine which, from time to time, he
shook with his left hand, without at all permitting that exercise to
interfere with his conversation. It was his eternal prayer, which he
thus communicated to the wind, so that by this element it should be
borne to Heaven. We traversed a suite of low chambers, upon the walls of
which were images of Buddha, of all sizes and made of all kinds of