This Tashi Lama was then a man of twenty-seven years of age, and had held the position since he was a small boy. He invited me to the great festival in the temple on New Year's Day. In the midst of the temple town is a long court surrounded by verandahs, balconies, and platforms. Round about are seen the gilded copper roofs over the sanctuaries and mausoleums where departed high priests repose. Everywhere the people are tightly packed, and the visitors from far and near are dressed in their holiday clothes, many-coloured and fine, and decorated with silver ornaments, coral and turquoise. The Tashi Lama has his seat in a balcony hung with silken draperies and gold tassels, but the holy countenance can be seen through a small square opening in the silk. The festival begins with the entry of the temple musicians. They carry copper bassoons ten feet long, so heavy that their bells have to rest on the shoulder of an acolyte. With deep, long-drawn blasts the monks proclaim the New Year, just as long ago the priests of Israel announced with trumpet notes the commencement of the year of jubilee. Then follow cymbals which clash in a slow, ringing measure, and drums which rouse echoes from the temple walls. The noise is deafening, but it sounds cheerful and impressive after the deep stillness in the valleys of Tibet. After the musicians have taken their places in the court the dancing monks enter. They are clad in costly garments of Chinese silk, and bright dragons embroidered in gold flash in the folds as the sunlight falls on them. The faces of the monks are covered by masks representing wild animals with open jaws and powerful tusks. The monks execute a slow circular dance. They believe, and so do all the people, that evil spirits may be kept at a distance and driven away by this performance. The next day I was summoned to the Tashi Lama. We passed along narrow paved lanes between the monastery walls, through narrow gloomy passages, up staircases of polished wood, and at last reached the highest floor of the monastery, where the Tashi Lama has his private apartments. I found him in a simple room, sitting cross-legged in a window recess from which he can see the temple roofs and the lofty mountains and the sinful town in the valley. He was beardless, with short-cut brown hair. His expression was singularly gentle and charming, almost shy. He held out his hands to me and invited me to take a seat beside him, and then for several hours we talked about Tibet, Sweden, and this vast, wonderful world. WILD ASSES AND YAKS If I had counted all the wild asses I saw during my travels in Tibet the number would amount to many, many thousands. Up in the north, in the very heart of the highland country, and down in the south, hardly a day passed without our seeing these proud, handsome animals, sometimes alone, sometimes in couples, and sometimes in herds of several hundred head.