ns
bordering the Tolla; after crossing that stream and leaving Urga the
road passes through a hilly country, sprinkled, it is true, with a
good many patches of sand, but having plenty of forest and frequently
showing fertile valleys. These valleys are the favorite resorts of the
Mongol shepherds and herdsmen, some of whom count their wealth by many
thousand animals. In general, Mongolia is not agricultural, both from
the character of the country and the disposition of the people. A few
tribes in the west live by tilling the soil in connection with stock
raising, but I do not suppose they take kindly to the former
occupation. The Mongols engaged in the caravan service pass a large
part of their lives on the road, and are merry as larks over their
employment. They seem quite analogous to the teamsters and
miscellaneous "plainsmen" who used to play an important part on our
overland route.

A large proportion of the men engaged in this transit service are
lamas, their sacred character not excusing them, as many suppose, from
all kinds of employment. Many lamas are indolent and manage in some
way to make a living without work, but this is by no means the
universal character of the holy men. About one-fifth of the male
population belong to the religious order, so that there are
comparatively few families which do not have a member or a relative in
the pale of the church. If not domiciled in a convent or blessed by
fortune in some way, the lama turns his hand to labor, though he is
able at the same time to pick up occasional presents for professional
service. Many of them act as teachers or schoolmasters. Theoretically
he cannot marry any more than a Romish priest, but his vows of
celibacy are not always strictly kept. One inconvenience under which
he labors is in never daring to kill anything through fear that what
he slaughters may contain the soul of a relative, and possibly that of
the divine Bhudda. A lama will purchase a sheep on which he expects to
dine, and though fully accessory before and after the fact, he does
not feel authorized to use the knife with his own hand. Even should he
be annoyed by fleas or similar creeping things (if it were a township
or city the lama's body could return a flattering census,) he must
bear the infliction until patience is thoroughly exhausted. At such
times he may call an unsanctified friend and subject himself and
garments to a thorough examination.

[Illustration: THE SCHOOLMASTER