eat Conqueror lies buried on the summit of Bogda Ola,
the mountain that towers over Urga, and no one may climb the height lest
his sleeping be disturbed. But it is the vicious weakling who holds
uncertain sway in the Sacred City, not the spirit of the mighty warrior,
that dominates the Mongol of to-day.

Buddhism takes on many forms. On one side you have the gentle,
intelligent monk of Burma, and the kindly superstitious bonze of China.
But that black travesty of Buddhism, Lamaism, seems to offer no
redeeming feature; brutish in Ladakh, vicious and cruel in Tibet, it is
debasing and weakening in its effects upon the Mongol, who comes of
finer and stronger stock than either Ladakhi or Tibetan. But he
sometimes succeeds in being a good fellow in spite of his religion.

The first day of my stay in Urga I devoted to repairing the damages of
the journey across the desert. Oh, the luxury of plenty of hot water, of
leisure, of privacy. I scrubbed and I mended, but above all I rested.
And if I tired of that, there was always plenty to see just outside my
door. The house where I was so kindly entertained was the home of a rich
Mongol trader, a man of many deeds and few words. It was built around a
large courtyard enclosed in a strong stockade some twelve feet high, the
buildings forming part of the enclosing wall. On the long side of the
court was a roofed-over space where carts and horses and fuel were kept.
To the right hand and to the left were kitchen, godowns, servants'
quarters, while on the side facing the great entrance gates boldly
decorated with the swastika symbol were the family and guest rooms.
Along this front was a narrow verandah roofed by the overhanging eaves
of the one-story buildings. Most of the windows were of the ordinary
Chinese style,--wooden lattices covered with paper,--but a few were
glazed. My room was about fourteen feet by ten in size, one half or more
of the space being taken up by a platform some three feet high, on which
were a large gaudy rug and two or three tiny tables and chests of
drawers. The rest of the furnishing was a rough bench and two decorated
cabinets. The ceiling of the room was covered with a gaily flowered
European paper, and on the walls hung some cheap Chinese kakemonos.

The state rooms, which were next to mine, were evidently held in great
esteem, and my hostess displayed them with the reverent pride of a good
New England woman showing her parlour. There were three of them,