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the popular belief that what the lightning destroys the gods will
replace. The fragments of castings that are left are really fine, and it
is a marvel how they ever were brought from Chengtu where they were
made, for many are of great weight. A little below the trail by which we
came was the pewter-roofed monastery, very appropriate here, as pewter
is the only metal the Buddhist pilgrim is supposed to use or possess.

But after all, the charm of the place lay not in this or that building
or relic, but in the beauty of the surroundings and in the peace of
spirit that seemed to abide here. No need to cast one's self over the
precipice to secure freedom from the body. Here on the high mountain-top
among these simple minds, the cares and bothers of the life of the plain
seemed to fall off. If I came as a sight-seer I went away in the mood of
a pilgrim. Turning my back upon the crowded paths I spent long hours of
quiet under the pines on the western slope, facing always toward the
mountains. Sometimes the clouds concealed them wholly, at other times
just one peak emerged, and then perhaps for a moment the mists rolled
away, and the whole snowy line stood revealed like the ramparts of a
great city, the city of God.

And the best of all was not the day, but the night. The monastery went
early to bed, and by ten o'clock bells had ceased to ring, the lights
were out. Then came my time. Slipping out of my room I stole up the
slope to the overhanging brow of the cliff. The wind had died down, the
birds were still, not a sound broke the great silence. At my feet were
the depths, to the west rose height on height, and on all lay the white
light of the moon. Close by hundreds of weary pilgrims were sleeping
heavily on their hard beds. Day after day and year after year they
climbed these steeps seeking peace and help, pinning their hopes to
burning joss stick and tinkling bell and mystic words, and in Western
lands were other pilgrims entangled likewise in the mazes of dogma and
form. But here among the stars, in the empty, soundless space of the
white night, the gods that man has created seemed to vanish, and there
stood out clear the hope that when time has ceased,--

"When whelmed are altar, priest, and creed;
When all the faiths have passed;
Perhaps, from darkening incense freed,
God may emerge at last."

Finally the day came when I was forced to turn away from the miracles of
Omei. Our stores were almos