such medicines,” he used to say, “ and, therefore, why
not those of Europe ? ” He revelled in the Hair
Restorers, Skin Beautifiers and all the accompanying
pretty pictures of the advertisements, and thought
the paper wonderful. I had some copies of the Illustrated
Petit Journal, which comes out weekly and
always contains two full-page coloured cartoons, as
well as two pages of photographs, the whole for five
centimes. He thought the price absolutely extraordinary;
in fact, he took some time to believe it. He was
particularly interested in the sinking of ships in the
Russo-Japanese War (about which he knew a good
deal) and a picture of His Gracious Majesty in Paris.
He could not understand how the Shah of Persia and
the King of Spain (of whom he saw pictures) and
our own King went visiting in each other’s countries;
“ it is,” he said, “ so opposed to every thing in Tibet,
where the Dalai Lama is rarely or never seen.”
We parted on the very best of terms, and a bottle full
of scent for his Rani (or rather Chum) seemed to
cement what had already become quite a fast friendship.