the Last Town in China {17 
school in A-tun-tsi, though the big house was still kept up. 
The chief of the next village was also rather juvenile in 
years, if not in experience, for though only sixteen and 
still a schoolboy, he already boasted two wives. 
The large Tibetan farm-houses, or manors, of the 
mountain villages are always widely separated, and towards 
the limits of habitation in the high plateau valleys are 
completely isolated. The thick walls are built of mud, 
stamped hard and whitewashed on the outside, but the 
supporting-pillars for the roof, the floor beams, window- 
frames, and partition walls are of wood. It is curious that 
though glass is unknown, excellent window-frames should 
be built. 
On entering from the outer courtyard one finds oneself 
in a large gloomy stable occupying the entire ground floor; 
to the wooden pillars cows and ponies are tied, and what 
light there is comes from a square hole in the roof, through 
which we climb up a notched tree-trunk, in place of the 
more familiar ladder. 
Above is a verandah, and from it the spacious rooms 
open—the big kitchen and living-room of the family, guest- 
rooms, prayer-closets, store-rooms, and so on; but the 
kitchen, as the most important room of the establishment, 
is by far the most interesting. 
At one end is a big open hearth on which a wood fire 
is blazing, the smoke finding its way out by a square hole 
in the roof or through one or two small windows. Every 
beam and rafter is black with soot, but as the Tibetans 
always sit on the floor, never on benches, they are not 
inconvenienced by the smoke curling up above them. 
Rows of copper kettles and brass jugs stand on the shelves, 
several bamboo spears are leant against the central wooden 
pillar, an iron pot bubbles over the fire, and tall brass-bound 
wooden cylinders in which tea is made as already described, 
stand on the floor. Roof, walls, and floor are hideously 
filthy with dust and soot, but the brass-work is kept sur- 
prisingly clean. Behind the fire the wall is often crudely 
decorated with Buddhist designs in whitewash, and here 
in a dingy alcove is arranged the family altar, with small 
metal vessels full of grain, and butter lamps burning dimly. 
There is no furniture unless one or two rough window-seats 
