ceive the large iron bell-shaped cauldron that stands by, ready for
use.

Behind the hearth, and facing the door, is a kind of sofa, the most
singular piece of furniture that we met with among the Tartars. At the
two ends are two pillows, having at their extremity plates of copper,
gilt, and skilfully engraved. There is probably not a single tent where
you do not find this little couch, which seems to be an essential article
of furniture; but, strange to say, during our long journey we never saw
one of them which seemed to have been recently made. We had occasion to
visit Mongol families, where everything bore the mark of easy
circumstances, even of affluence, but everywhere alike this singular
couch was shabby, and of ancient fabric. But yet it seems made to last
for ever, and is regularly transmitted from generation to generation.

In the towns where Tartar commerce is carried on, you may hunt through
every furniture shop, every brokers, every pawnbroker's, but you meet
with not one of these pieces of furniture, new or old.

At the side of the couch, towards the men's quarter, there is ordinarily
a small square press, which contains the various odds and ends that serve
to set off the costume of this simple people. This chest serves likewise
as an altar for a small image of Buddha. The divinity, in wood or
copper, is usually in a sitting posture, the legs crossed, and enveloped
up to the neck in a scarf of old yellow silk. Nine copper vases, of the
size and form of our liqueur glasses, are symmetrically arranged before
Buddha. It is in these small chalices that the Tartars daily make to
their idol offerings of water, milk, butter, and meal. A few Thibetian
books, wrapped in yellow silk, perfect the decoration of the little
pagoda. Those whose heads are shaved, and who observe celibacy, have
alone the privilege of touching these prayer-books. A layman, who should
venture to take them into his impure and profane hands, would commit a
sacrilege.

A number of goats' horns, fixed in the woodwork of the tent, complete the
furniture of the Mongol habitation. On these hang the joints of beef or
mutton destined for the family's use, vessels filled with butter, bows,
arrows, and matchlocks; for there is scarcely a Tartar family which does
not possess at least one firearm. We were, therefore, surprised to find
M. Timkouski, in his Journey to Peking, {51} making this strange
statement: "The sound of our fire-arms a