654
Travels of M. Huc.
DEC.
right and left, the interior is one vast appartement, which serves at once as a kitchen, a refectory, and a dormitory. When travelers arrive, they repair at once to the appartement, essentially dirty, stinking, and full of snioke. A long and wide kang awaits them. A kang is a kind of oven, which occupies three-fourths of the root. It is only about four feet high, and the roof is flat and smooth; a reed matting covers the floor, and upon this rich people spread cloths of felt. Three immense coppers are buried in glazed earth in front of this oven, in which the travelers' food is prepared. The openings by which these coppers are heated are prolonged beneath the kang, so that even during the extreme cold of winter the latter is warm. As soon as a traveler arrives, the "intendant of the trea- sury" invites him to ascend into the kang, where he sits down, tailor-fashion, with his legs crosswise, around a great table, the feet of which are not more than five or six inches high. The lower part of the room is reserved for the attendants, who go to and fro, keep up the fire under the boilers, make tea, or oatmeal cakes. The kang of these Tartaro-Chinese inns is the most animated and picturesque theatre that can be imagined; it is there that people eat, drink, smoke, play, scream, and fight. When night comes on, the kang, which during day-time has served as a restaurant, an estaminet, and a tap, is suddenly transformed into a dormitory. "The inspector of darkness" strikes a few blows on a tam-tam, and the travelers unfold their counterpanes, if they have any; if not, they cover themselves with their clothes, and lie down close to one another. When the hosts are numerous, they are arranged upon two lines, their feet touching one another. But though every one goes to bed, all do not go to sleep; while some snore away in the most conscientious manner, others smoke, drink tea, or indulge in noisy conversation. This fantastic picture, half lit up by the dull flame of a murky lamp, fills the mind with feelings of fear and horror.
The missionaries adopted on their journey the secular dress of Tibetan lamas, or priests, a costume which, if rather theatrical, was certainly well adapted to insure them safety and respect. It consisted of a yellow gown, fastened on one side by five gilt buttons, and to the waist by a long red sash. Over this gown, a red waistcoat, with a little collar of violet-colored velvet, was worn, while a yellow cap, with a red top-knot, completed the fantastic garb. They were accom- panied by only one native, a dchiahour, as M. Huc writes it; giaour, as it is ordinarily written; but more correctly jawur (infidel). This nondescript bore the little euphonious name of Samdad-chiemba. He had run away when a mere boy froin a lamazary, or monastery of lamas, and had been converted by the Lazarists to Christianity. They had tents, and also a faithful dog, yclept Arsalan, or the lion, whose duty it was to bark on the approach of strangers. When they encamped at night, after pitching the tent, the first duty was, as with the Arabs, to collect argols, or dry dung, for fuel, or shrub-wood if they could get it, to light a fire, and to prepare a soup of water, hwa mien, a kind of macaroni, and a lump of salt pork. In the morn- ing, they made tea with oatmeal porridge.
On their way, next day, they met with an obo-a cairn, or pile of stones-dedicated by the Tartars to the spirit of the place. The latter make offerings of money, bits of rag tied to branches, &c.
When the
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