Excerpt:
Travelling on the borders of Chinese Tartary, in the country of the Lamas or Buddhists, Miss Gordon Cumming remarks that it was strange, every now and again, to meet some respectable-looking workman, twirling little brass cylinders, only about six inches in length, which were incessantly spinning round and round as they walked along the road. What could they be? Not pedometers, not any of the trigonometrical instruments with which the officers of the Ordnance Survey go about armed? No; she was informed that they were prayer-wheels, and that turning them was just about equivalent to the telling of beads, which in Continental lands workmen may often be seen counting as homeward along the road they plod their weary way.
1867. The Civil War is over. Yet there is much unrest and resentment that lives on throughout the land, and in the hearts of many... Marco steps out of the ashes of the war; a man turned bounty hunter had everything which mattered most to him violently stripped away. So he emerges with a burning desire like none other to find redemption, and a new purpose in life. He sets off i...
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