y a land of grass and streams.

We camped that evening just off the trail in a little grassy hollow. In
the night rain fell, tapping gently on my tent wall, and for hours there
mingled with the sound of the falling rain the dull clang of bells, as a
long bullock train crawled along in the dark on its way to Urga.

The next day rose cloudless as before. My landmark could no longer be
seen, but I knew it was not far off, "a great rock in a weary land," and
already the air was fresher and the country seemed to have put on a
tinge of green.

In the afternoon a little cavalcade of wild, picturesque-looking men
dashed down upon us in true Mongol style, trailing the lasso poles as
they galloped. With a gay greeting they turned their horses about, and
kept pace with us while they satisfied their curiosity. This was my
first sight of the northern Mongol, who differs little from his brother
of the south, save that he is less touched by Chinese influence. In
dress he is more picturesque, and the tall, peaked hat generally worn
recalled old-time pictures of the invading Mongol hordes.

The great mountain had again come in sight, crouching like a huge beast
of prey along the boulder-strewn plain. But where was the famous
lamassery that lay at its foot? Threading our way through a wilderness
of rock, heaped up in sharp confusion, we came out on a little ridge,
and there before us lay Tuerin,--not a house but a village, built in and
out among the rocks. It was an extraordinary sight to stumble upon, here
on the edge of the uninhabited desert. A little apart from the rest were
four large temples crowned with gilt balls and fluttering banners, and
leading off from them were neat rows of small white plastered cottages
with red timbers, the homes of the two thousand lamas who live here. The
whole thing had the look of a seaside camp-meeting resort. A few herds
of ponies were grazing near by, but there was no tilled land, and these
hundreds of lamas are supported in idleness by contributions extorted
from the priest-ridden people. A group of them, rather repulsive-looking
men, came out to meet us, or else to keep us off. As it was growing
late, and we had not yet reached our camping-place, I did not linger
long.

[Illustration: HORSEMEN OF THE DESERT, NORTH MONGOLIA]

We camped that night in the shadow of the mountain. The ground was
carpeted with artemisia, which when crushed gave out a pungent odour
almost overpowering. Before turn