.

Service is being held before the great Buddhas as we enter, and a
thunderous harmony like an organ-peal breaks the interval for
meditation. The Abbot, who is in the centre, leans forward from his
chair and takes a bundle of peacock-feathers from a vase by his side. As
he points it to the earth there is a clashing of cymbals, a beating of
drums, and a blowing of trumpets and conch shells.

Then the music dies away like the reverberation of cannon in the hills.
The Abbot begins the chant, and the monks, facing each other like
singing-men in a choir, repeat the litany. They have extraordinary deep,
devotional voices, at once unnatural and impressive. The deepest bass of
the West does not approach it, and their sense of time is perfect.

The voice of the thousand monks is like the drone of some subterranean
monster, musically plaintive--the wail of the Earth God praying for
release to the God of the Skies.

The chant sounds like the endless repetition of the same formula; the
monks sway to it rhythmically. The temple would be dark if it were not
for the flickering of many thousands of votive candles and butter lamps.
Rows upon rows of them are placed before every shrine.

In an inner temple we found the three great images of the Buddhist
trinity--the Buddhas of the past, present, and future. The images were
greater than life-size, and set with jewels from foot to crown. As in
the cloisters of an English cathedral, there were little side-chapels,
which held sacred relics and shrines.

There were lamps of gold, and solid golden bowls set on altars, and
embossed salvers of copper and bronze.

A hanging grille of chainwork protected the precincts from sacrilege,
and an extended hand, bloody and menacing, was stretched from the wall,
terrible enough when suddenly revealed in that dim light to paralyze and
strike to earth with fright any profane thief who would dare to enter.

In the upper story we found a place which we called 'Hell,' where some
Lamas were worshipping the demon protectress of the Grand Lama. The
music here was harsh and barbaric. There were displayed on the pillars
and walls every freak of diabolical invention in the shape of scrolls
and devil-masks. The obscene object of this worship was huddled in a
corner--a dwarfish abortion, hideous and malignant enough for such
rites.

All about the Lamas' feet ran little white mice searching for grain.
They are fed daily, and are scrupulously reverenced, as i