north, meets our starting-point underneath the rock on
which the Chinese temple stands. At this point, it will
be remembered that the buildings and gardens of the
Kun-de-ling press upon the road itself. These “ lings ”
— the word literally means a garden— are four in number ;
they represent four lamaic colleges from among whose
members the regent of the Dalai Lama was in old days
invariably chosen. From this rule an apparent exception
was made in the middle of last century, and if the
sudden demise of the Dalai Lama should make it necessary
for the hierarchy to elect a new regent, it is more
than probable that they would select someone from
De-bung or another of the great monasteries outside
the walls in whose hands the political power is now
wholly vested. The tradition, however, has in the past
been a useful check upon intrigue. Of the other lings,
Tengye-ling is a large but uninteresting building which
one passes on the right, if, instead of branching down
to the Yutok road from the Potala palace, one keeps
straight along by the road which, as I have noticed
on the occasion of our first entrance into Lhasa, is as a
rule one continuous puddle. Here the Tongsa Penlop
took up his abode, with unerring judgment, for Tengye-
ling is quite the most comfortable of the four. If, however,
his followers adopted the same methods in Lhasa
as had marked their progress to the city, it is more than
likely that the sacred treasures of Tengye-ling have been
seriously reduced in number by this time. Chomo-ling
is an insignificant structure, almost concealed in trees,
not far from Ramo che, and the fourth and last is
Tsecho-ling, which is outside the city altogether, across
the river to the south.
With this brief survey of the course taken by the
Ling-kor this chapter must end, though we shall have
to return across its sacred ribbon when the gem of all
that lies within it is to be described, and the reader will
be asked to penetrate with me into that holiest of all
holies, the Jo-kang, or the very “ place of God ” itself.