73 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



who have been selected as possible candidates for the 

 honor, are written upon slips of paper incased in rolls 

 of paste and deposited in a golden urn. The one which 

 is drawn is hailed as the new incarnation. 



Some years ago the eyesight of the Hutukhtu began 

 to fail, and a great temple was erected as a sacrifice to 

 appease the gods. It stands on a hill at the western end 

 of Urga, surrounded by the tiny wooden dwellings of 

 the priests. "The Lama City" it is called, for only those 

 in the service of the Chiirch are allowed to live within 

 its sacred precincts. In the temple itself there is an 

 eighty-foot bronze image of Buddha standing on a 

 golden lotus flower. The great figure is heavily gilded, 

 incrusted with precious stones, and draped with silken 

 cloths. 



I was fortunate in being present one day when the 

 temple was opened to women and the faithful in the 

 city. Somewhat doubtful as to my reception, I followed 

 the crowd as it filed through an outer pavilion between 

 a double row of kneeling lamas in high-peaked hats and 

 robes of flaming yellow. I carried my hat in my hand 

 and tried to wear a becoming expression of humility and 

 reverence. It was evidently successful, for I passed un- 

 hindered into the Presence. At the entrance stood a 

 priest who gave me, with the others, a few drops of holy 

 water from a filthy jug. Silent with awe, the people 

 bathed their faces with the precious fluid and prostrated 

 themselves before the gigantic figure standing on the 

 golden lotus blossom, its head lost in the shadows of the 

 temple roof. They kissed its sUken draperies, soUed by 



