Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . nd remarkablepadded feet,whistled over usas we rolled alongthe road, and myheart was sickwith the thoughtof the excellentshooting we weremissing. But therewas no time tostop except forsuch game as act-ually crossed ourpath, else weshould never havearrived at Urga,the city of theLiving God. Speaking ofgods, I must notforget to mentionthe great Lama-sery at Turin,about one hun-dred and seventy miles from hours before we reached it we sawthe ragged hills standing sharp andclear against the sky-line. The peaksthemselves are
Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . nd remarkablepadded feet,whistled over usas we rolled alongthe road, and myheart was sickwith the thoughtof the excellentshooting we weremissing. But therewas no time tostop except forsuch game as act-ually crossed ourpath, else weshould never havearrived at Urga,the city of theLiving God. Speaking ofgods, I must notforget to mentionthe great Lama-sery at Turin,about one hun-dred and seventy miles from hours before we reached it we sawthe ragged hills standing sharp andclear against the sky-line. The peaksthemselves are not more than a hun-dred feet in height, but they risefrom a rocky plateau some distanceabove the level of the plain. It is a wildspot of granite outcrops and jaggedridges, fit setting for the most remarka-ble group of human habitations that Ihave ever seen. In a shallow basin arethree large temples of white and redsurrounded by hundreds upon hundredsof tiny pill-box dwellings. There mustbe two thousand of them and probablytwice as many Lamas. On the outskirts. A MONGOL WOMAN IN STREET ATTIRE of the city enormous piles of argul havebeen collected by the priests and be-stowed as votive offerings by devouttravelers. Vast as the supply seemed, itwould take all this and more to warmthe houses of the Lamas during the bit-ter winter months when the ground iscovered with snow. The houses are built of sawnboards, the firstindication therehad been that wewere n e a r i n g aforest country. The remainingone hundred andseventy miles toUrga is a delight,even to the motor-ist who loves thepaved roads ofcities. It is likea boulevard amidglorious rollinghills luxuriantwith long, sweetgrass. In the dis-tance herds ofhorses and cattlegrouped them-selves into movingpatches, and fat-tailed sheep dot-ted the plain likedrifts of snow. Ihave seldom seena better grazingcountry. It need-ed but little imag-ination to picturewhat it will be a few years hencewhen the inevitable railroad claimsthe desert
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