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courteously and was interested and amused by Mr.
White’s large camera.* While he was taking a series
of views in the pillared arcade outside the doors of the
shrine, I sat down and hastily recorded a suggestion
of the colouring of this arcade. I can claim with pride
that the attractions of Mr. White paled in a second
beside the interest which a four or five deep ring of
monks took, not so much in my painting as in my paintbox.
Some one^-he presumably was the artist of the
community— was hurriedly sent for, and when he came,
must have severely taxed his own ingenuity in his gesticulating
and fluent account of such mysteries as a block
of Whatman’s “ hot pressed” and a typewriter eraser.
No one in Tibet ever draws anything in front of him,
so it was, perhaps, a lenient crowd of critics that watched
the rapid daub of colour which I confess I should not
have had the impertinence to include in this volume
had there been any other record of this kind available.
The colours, it will be seen, are blinding in their vividness
and juxtaposition, and the whole of this arcaded
temple-front was painted from end to end in the same
gorgeous manner. Not a corner of the roof has escaped
the brush of the painter or the hand of the gilder ;
the pillars, reported more nobly tinted still, were wound
round and round from top to bottom with crimson
cloth, so carefully sewn that we had not the face to
ask the monks to uncover one ; nothing, however, could
have added much to the incredible play of gaudy hues.
Soon afterwards the great doors, each bearing a
* It was an unfailing source, of mystification to the Tibetans to be allowed to look at
the reversed picture in the ground glass under the black velvet. The curious thing is
that, so far as we could find out from their exclamations, they did not often recognise
the reversed picture as that of the scene in front of the lens. It was for them merely V
beautiful pattern of varying colours seen in a singularly effective manner.