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0375 The Pulse of Asia : vol.1
アジアの鼓動 : vol.1
The Pulse of Asia : vol.1 / 375 ページ(カラー画像)

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doi: 10.20676/00000233
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That evening, as my host was entertaining me by play-
ing on a marvelously slender and long-necked mandolin, he
remarked: —
"This wind is nothing. You just wait."
Two days later, we were camped in the reedy salt plain
twenty miles to the east beside a white wall made of blocks
of rock-salt. An evening gale came up, and blew over my
tent and that of the men.
"This is nothing," said the host, who had become our
guide. "Just wait till April or May. Then the wind takes
the roofs off houses, and leaves the young wheat with two
or three inches of its roots swept bare of earth. All this wind
comes from a little lake on the way to Urumchi. There is
an iron gate in the lake, and it is only half shut. If any one
could shut it, the wind would stop."
I visited the lake on the way to Urumchi. Two monoliths,
about seven feet high, stand near the shore. Near them
there are a number of artificial mounds of various sizes,
and several lines composed of groups of stones. Each group
consisted originally of about eight boulders from one to
three feet in diameter arranged in a circle perhaps six feet
across. The whole aspect of these relics of an unknown race
is almost identical with that of certain mounds and stones
which I saw in 1903 with Professor Davis at Son Kul and
Issik Kul, six hundred miles to the west.
The climate of Turfan is characterized by extremes in
other respects, as well as in its winds. On March 5, a quiet,
sunny day, the temperature was two degrees below zero,
Fahrenheit, at sunrise, but rose to fifty-four degrees above
zero at noon in the shade of a high cliff. The summer in