build a
temple in the centre of the great valley which they inhabited; they
collected, at vast expense, the richest materials, and the edifice rose
rapidly; but, just on the point of completion, it suddenly crumbled to
pieces, without any one having the least idea as to the cause of this
disaster. Next year they made new preparations, and laboured upon the
construction of the temple with equal ardour; the second temple, when
just completed, fell to pieces as the first had done; a third attempt was
made, the only result of which was a third catastrophe, exactly the same
with the two preceding. Every body was plunged in utter despair, and
there was talk of abandoning the enterprize. The king consulted a famous
diviner of the country, who replied that it had not been given to him to
know the cause which opposed the construction of the temple, but this he
knew: that there was a great saint in the East who possessed a certain
secret, which secret, being once extracted from him, the obstacle would
forthwith disappear. He could, however, give no exact information as to
who the great saint was, or where he lived. After protracted
deliberation, a Lama, of excellent address and great courage, was sent on
a mission of inquiry. He traversed all the districts east of the kingdom
of Oui; he visited the Tartar tribes, stopping for awhile wherever he
heard speak of any man especially noted for his sanctity and knowledge.
All his inquiries were fruitless: it was to no purpose he discoursed of
the valley of the kingdom of Oui, and of the temple which it had been
attempted to raise there: nobody comprehended at all what he was talking
about. He was returning home, depressed and disappointed, when, in
crossing the great plains which separate Thibet from China, the girth of
his saddle broke, and he fell from his horse. Perceiving, near at hand,
beside a small pond, a poor, dilapidated tent, he proceeded thither to
get his saddle repaired. Having fastened his horse to a stake at the
door of the tent, he entered and found within a venerable old man,
absorbed in prayer. "Brother," said the traveller, "may peace be ever in
thy dwelling." "Brother," replied the old man, without moving, "seat
thyself beside my hearth." The Thibetian Lama fancied he saw that the
old man was blind. "I perceive, with grief," said he, "that thou hast
lost the use of thy eyes." "Yes; 'tis now many years since I was
deprived of the happiness of contemplatin