“ taboo ” to the troops— was due at Gyantse. Lieu-
tenant-Colonel Waddell gives, in his learned and careful
work upon Lamaism, a large number of instances of the
cases in which these charms are used, and the ritual
employed.
One odd fact came under our notice. The charms
issued from Lhasa to the Tibetan soldiers opposing
our advance included protection against almost every
known material used in war. After Guru, some of
the wounded who were being tended by us were
asked whether their faith were shaken or not ; they,
in some surprise, entirely repudiated the idea. “ We did
not know in Lhasa what metals we should guard ourselves
against: lead and iron, and steel and copper,
and silver, none of these could have hurt us ; but we did
not even know that there was a metal called nickel;
therefore no charm was given us to protect us against
your bullets.” The unwinding of a grimy little silk-
covered packet from the inside of a gau-o is rather an
interesting occupation; the contents are cleaner
than might be thought. . One of the oddest things
I found in any was a little pebble with the thumb
imprint of the Dalai Lama upon it in v e r m i l i o n
Unfortunately damp had blurred the lines.
The prayers printed on the prayer-flags of Tibet are
generally identical in arrangement and, perhaps, also in
the words of the prayer. In Gyantse I bought one of
the wood-blocks, from which these flags are printed ; it
is a curious piece of careful and not ineffective wood
engraving, it is about sixteen inches in length and twelve
inches in width. This is about the largest size that is
used j the flag, being attached to the mast perpendicularly,
only allows a thin upright fringe to be printed,
and you will find fifteen or twenty repetitions of the
same prayer, reaching one above another all the way up
the mast. These “ flying horses ” (lung-ta) were probably
mistaken by the traveller who originated the idea
that the Tibetans sent horses to belated wayfarers by
throwing to the winds pieces of paper with the figure
of a horse printed upon it. It is quite possible that
this may actually have been done, but continued enquiry
on my part elicited no corroboration whatever.
To return to the country surrounding Gyantse.
The monastery at Dongtse, twelve miles away towards
Shigatse, the sacred residence of the Sinchen Lama,
was visited by O’Connor, Wilton, and myself very soon
after our arirval at Chang-lo.
The road to Dongtse serpentines across the wide
level plain of the Nyang chu, idly acquiescing in the
obstacles which villages, water-courses, field boundaries,
chortens, houses, or irrigation ditches throw in its way.
The patchwork of cultivated fields, some no larger than
allotments, none more than an acre in area, reminds one
of high farming in Berkshire, so jealously is every square
foot made to serve the owners and grow its patch of
barley. There are no trees, no hedges, not even a weed.
The very dykes which restrain the irrigation channels
are grudged from the rich, dry, grey loam, as fertile as
the Darling Downs.
Agriculture is a serious business with the Tibetans.
Here and there, but very rarely, the darkened garnet or
dirty amber of a lama’s dress adds a note of colour to
the thirsty stretch of alluvial soil, fenceless and flat.
But generally the work is done by quiet little figures,
whose patched grey dresses are blotted out among their