ountain on which the Lamasery stands, and not far from the principal
Buddhist temple, is a great square enclosure, formed by brick walls.
Upon entering this we were able to examine at leisure the marvellous
tree, some of the branches of which had already manifested themselves
above the wall. Our eyes were first directed with earliest curiosity to
the leaves, and we were filled with an absolute consternation of
astonishment at finding that, in point of fact, there were upon each of
the leaves well-formed Thibetian characters, all of a green colour, some
darker, some lighter than the leaf itself. Our first impression was a
suspicion of fraud on the part of the Lamas; but, after a minute
examination of every detail, we could not discover the least deception.
The characters all appeared to us portions of the leaf itself, equally
with its veins and nerves; the position was not the same in all; in one
leaf they would be at the top of the leaf; in another, in the middle; in
a third, at the base, or at the side; the younger leaves represented the
characters only in a partial state of formation. The bark of the tree
and its branches, which resemble that of the plane tree, are also covered
with these characters. When you remove a piece [Picture: The Tree of Ten
Thousand Images] of old bark, the young bark under it exhibits the
indistinct outlines of characters in a germinating state, and, what is
very singular, these new characters are not unfrequently different from
those which they replace. We examined everything with the closest
attention, in order to detect some trace of trickery, but we could
discern nothing of the sort, and the perspiration absolutely trickled
down our faces under the influence of the sensations which this most
amazing spectacle created. More profound intellects than ours may,
perhaps, be able to supply a satisfactory explanation of the mysteries of
this singular tree; but as to us, we altogether give it up. Our readers
possibly may smile at our ignorance; but we care not, so that the
sincerity and truth of our statement be not suspected.

The Tree of the Ten Thousand Images seemed to us of great age. Its
trunk, which three men could scarcely embrace with outstretched arms, is
not more than eight feet high; the branches, instead of shooting up,
spread out in the shape of a plume of feathers, and are extremely bushy;
few of them are dead. The leaves are always green, and the wood, which
is of a reddi