what with pitching, taking to pieces and packing, still it was a far better shelter against storms and cold than the ordinary tent.
Its dimensions were these: diameter, 11 feet; height from the ground to the aperture in the roof, 9 feet; the entrance was by an opening in the side, 3 feet square, through which we crept in and out; the sides and roof were covered with three layers of felt, besides which we lined the sides with orongo skins.
The interior did not admit of much comfort: here stood two boxes (containing journals, instruments, &c.) besides felts for sleeping upon, whilst our arms were ranged round the sides, and an iron grate stood in the centre, in which argols were continually burning during the day, to cook our food and afford us some warmth. Towards evening, and particularly after undressing for the night, sundry articles of apparel might be seen suspended from the lattice woodwork of the sides, and from the rafters supporting the roof.
Such was our home during the whole of our arduous winter journey in Tibet. Two hours before daybreak every morning we rose, lighted the argols, and boiled our brick-tea, which, mixed with some barley-meal, served for our breakfast; sometimes for a change we baked either zaturan[1] or wheaten cakes in the hot argol ashes. As soon as the day dawned
- ↑ 'Zaturan' is a favourite dish of the Cossacks of Trans-Baikalia and the Amur country. It consist of brick-tea, into which flour baked with butter and salt is added, the mess tasting much like soap.
