Trans-Himalaya; discoveries and adventures in Tibet . he lake, as Iascertained by the help of a reflecting level. We ascended to the roof of Gossul-gompa. It is flat,as usual, with a chimney, parapet, and streamers. Nolanguage on earth contains words forcible enough to de-scribe the view from it over the lake. It was, indeed, muchthe same as we had seen from various points on the shore,but the light and shade was so enchanting and the colour-ing so wonderful that I was amazed, and felt my heart beatmore strongly than usual as I stepped out of the darktemple halls on to the open platform. Tundu
Trans-Himalaya; discoveries and adventures in Tibet . he lake, as Iascertained by the help of a reflecting level. We ascended to the roof of Gossul-gompa. It is flat,as usual, with a chimney, parapet, and streamers. Nolanguage on earth contains words forcible enough to de-scribe the view from it over the lake. It was, indeed, muchthe same as we had seen from various points on the shore,but the light and shade was so enchanting and the colour-ing so wonderful that I was amazed, and felt my heart beatmore strongly than usual as I stepped out of the darktemple halls on to the open platform. Tundup Sonamsaid in his simple way that the lake with its encirclingmountains seemed like the sky with its light clouds. I,too, was the victim of an illusion which almost made mecatch at the parapet for support. I wondered whether itwas a fit of giddiness. I took, to wit, the border ofmountains on the eastern shore for a belt of light clouds,and the surface of the sea for part of the sky. The daywas perfectly calm and the lake like a mirror, in which the. 258. A Dreamer. Lama in Yanggo-gompa on by T. Macfarlane from a Sketch by the Author. THE GOSSUL MONASTERY 149 sky was reflected ; both looked exactly the same, and wereof the same colour, and the mountains, which in con-sequence of the distance were all blended into a darkshadow, were like a girdle of clouds. The air was notclear, everything was of a dull subdued tone, there wasno colour to speak of, but all was grey—sky, land, andwater, with a tinge of blue, a fairy scene of glass, withdecorations of white gauze seen through a thin blue veilof incense rising from the altar of the mighty god of thelake. What has become of the earth, if all is sky and clouds ?We are not totally bewitched, for we are standing on theroof of the monastery leaning against the parapet. Adream-picture in the most ethereal transitory tones floatsbefore us. We seem to stand on a promontory juttingout into endless space, which yawns ar
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