The ceiling of the temple was draped in red woollen cloth similar to that of the clothes worn by the Lamas themselves, and from it hung hundreds of strips of silk, wool and cotton of all imaginable colours. The roof was supported by columns of wood forming a quadrangle in the centre of the temple and joined by a balustrade, compelling the worshippers to make a circuit from left to right in order to pass before the several images. In a shrine in the central part of the wall facing the entrance was _Urghin_ or _Kunjuk-chick_, "God alone," and in front of it on a kind of altar covered with a carpet a collection of donations far more abundant than those offered to the other images. The Lama, pointing at it, told me that it was a good God, and so I salaamed it and deposited a small offering in a handy collection-box, which seemed to please the Lama greatly, for he at once fetched a holy water amphora, hung with long veils of friendship and love, and poured some scented liquid on the palms of my hands. Then, producing a strip of veil, he wetted it with the scent and presented it to me. The majority of pilgrims generally go round the inside of the temple on their knees, but, notwithstanding that, to avoid offending prejudices, I generally follow the principle of doing in Rome as the Romans do, I could not here afford the chance of placing myself at such a disadvantage in case of a surprise. The high Lama explained the different images and threw handfuls of rice over them as he called them by their respective names, all of which I tried hard to remember, but, alas! before I could get back to the _serai_ and scribble down their appellations, they had all escaped my memory. A separate entrance led from the living part of the monastery into the temple.