70 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



adoring subjects or playing jokes on their ministers of 

 state. With considerable difficulty a foreign bed was 

 purchased and brought across the seven hundred miles 

 of plains and desert to the red brick palace on the banks 

 of the Tola River. 



Mr. Lucander superintended its installation in the 

 Hutukhtu's boudoir and himself turned chambermaid. 

 As this was the fii'st time he had ever made a bed for a 

 Living God, he arranged the spotless sheets and turned 

 down the covers with the greatest care. When all was 

 done to his satisfaction he reported to one of the Hu- 

 tukhtu's ministers that the bed was ready. Two lamas, 

 high dignitaries of the church, were the inspection com- 

 mittee. They agreed that it looked all right, but the 

 question was, how did it feel? Mr. Lucander waxed elo- 

 quent on the "springiness" of the springs, and assured 

 them that no bed could be better; that this was the bed 

 par excellence of all the beds in China. The lamas held 

 a guttural consultation and then announced that before 

 the bed could be accepted it must be tested. Therefore, 

 without more ado, each lama in his dirty boots and gown 

 laid his unwashed self upon the bed, and bounced up 

 and down. The result was satisfactory — except to Lu- 

 cander and the sheets. 



Although to foreign eyes and in the cold light of 

 modernity the Hutukhtu and his government cut a some- 

 what ridiculous figure, the reverse of the picture is the 

 pathetic death struggle of a once glorious race. I have 

 said that unaccustomed luxury was responsible for the 

 decline of the Mongol Empire, but the ruin of the race 



