74 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



thought, and each revolution adds to the store of merit 

 in the future life. 



The Mongol goes farther still in accumulating virtue, 

 and every native house in Urga is gay with fluttering 

 bits of cloth or paper on which a prayer is written. Each 

 time the little flag moves in the wind it sends forth a 

 supplication for the welfare of the Mongol's spirit in 

 the Buddhistic heaven. Not only are the prayer wheels 

 found about the temples, but they line the streets, and 

 no visiting Mongol need be deprived of trying the virtue 

 of a new device without going to a place of worship. 

 He can give a whirl or two to half a dozen within a hun- 

 dred yards of where he buys his tea or sells his sheep. 



On every hand there is constant evidence that Urga 

 is a sacred city. It never can be forgotten even for a 

 moment. The golden roofs of scores of temples give 

 back the sunlight, and the moaning chant of praying 

 lamas is always in the air. Even in the main street I 

 have seen the prostrate forms of ragged pilgrims who 

 have journeyed far to this Mecca of the lama faith. 

 If they are entering the city for the first time and crave 

 exceeding virtue, they approach the great temple on the 

 hill by lying face down at every step and beating their 

 foreheads upon the ground. Wooden shrines of daz- 

 zling whiteness stand in quiet streets or cluster by them- 

 selves behind the temples. In front of each, raised 

 slightly at one end, is a prayer board worn, black and 

 smooth by the prostrated bodies of worshiping Mongols. 



Although the natives take such care for the repose of 

 the spirit in after life, they have a strong distaste for 



