gigens [or living Buddhas] formerly resided; but not a soul remains there now. Only some flocks of rock doves, jackdaws, and swallows build their nests in the ruined shrines and houses. The latter, i.e. the houses, which surround the temple, are for the most part uninjured; but the chief shrine, with its outbuildings within the enclosure, is burnt down; the clay idols smashed or hacked to pieces, littering the ground; a few still on their pedestals, but cut and disfigured by swords and pikes; the great statue of Buddha in the principal temple with a large hole in its chest, made by the Dungans in their search for treasure often hidden by the lamas in such places; and leaves of the sacred book Gandjur[1] strewn over the floor, together with other broken fragments; all covered with a thick layer of dust.
And yet not very long ago many thousands assembled here to worship the image of their saint. Here, as in other temples, everything was done to attract and arrest the childish imagination of the Mongols; many of the gods are represented with stern and hideous faces; some seated on lions, elephants, oxen, or horses; others slaying serpents, devils, &c, and the walls of the temple that remain standing are also decorated with pictures of the same genre.
'How can you put faith in gods of clay?' I remarked to the Mongol who accompanied me over the ruins of the temple. 'Our gods,' he answered, 'only
- ↑ See Supplementary Note.
