ou celebrate this festival.
That is what we heard in the land of the _Kitat_ (Chinese). But do you
know why the Kitat celebrate it?" and thereupon we related to these
Mongols what we knew of the terrible massacre of their ancestors. Upon
the completion of our narrative, we saw the faces of all our audience
full of astonishment. The young men whispered to one another; the old
man preserved a mournful silence; his head bent down, and big tears
flowing from his eyes. "Brother rich in years," said we, "this story
does not seem to surprise you as it does your young men, but it fills
your heart with emotion." "Holy personages," replied the elder, raising
his head, and wiping away the tears with the back of his hand, "the
terrible event which occasions such consternation in the minds of my
young men was not unknown to me, but I would I had never heard of it, and
I always struggle against its recollection, for it brings the hot blood
into the forehead of every Tartar, whose heart is not sold to the Kitat.
A day known to our great Lamas will come, when the blood of our fathers,
so shamefully assassinated, will at length be avenged. When the holy man
who is to lead us to vengeance shall appear, every one of us will rise
and follow in his train; then we shall march, in the face of day, and
require from the Kitat an account of the Tartar blood which they shed in
the silence and dark secrecy of their houses. The Mongols celebrate
every year this festival, most of them seeing in it merely an indifferent
ceremony; but the Loaves of the Moon-day ever recalls, in the hearts of a
few amongst us, the memory of the treachery to which our fathers fell
victims, and the hope of just vengeance."

After a brief silence, the old man went on: "Holy personages, whatever
may be the associations of this day, in other respects it is truly a
festival for us, since you have deigned to enter our poor habitation.
Let us not further occupy our breasts with sad thoughts. Child," said he
to a young man seated on the threshold of the tent, "if the mutton is
boiled enough, clear away these things." This command having been
executed, the eldest son of the family entered, bearing in both hands a
small oblong table, on which was a boiled sheep, cut into four quarters,
heaped one on the other. The family being assembled round the table, the
chief drew a knife from his girdle, severed the sheep's tail, and divided
it into two equal pieces, which he placed