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0218 Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1
Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1 / Page 218 (Grayscale High Resolution Image)

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doi: 10.20676/00000231
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sometimes chairs. Your servants care for you as
best they can, and you put down in a book found
in the bungalow an entry of the rupee which you
have paid the native attendant, and which goes to
the up-keep fund. The whole caravan route is well
kept. There is a British Commissioner, assisted by
a native, to look after it.

Mohammed Joo and Osman, faithful, humble,
uncomplaining, these two would go back to Yarkand,
and they must hasten over Kardung, Sasar, and the
Karakoram, that the snows of coming winter might
not fatally entrap them, or imprison them idly in
Ladak. Grateful for the backsheesh which their
courage had so generously earned, they left us, and
out of our sight faded two who shall live in our
hearts, eminent citizens of that republic of the affec-
tions into which the memory of the traveller intro-
duces men of every colour, every tongue, every
creed.

Now we are off again, clattering through the
Himalayas, two stages in each day, changing ponies
at every post. For two or three days we are still in
the country of the Tibet people: long, black, and
dirty cues, three-cornered hats, rusty lama-gowns,
fluttering prayers, graven stones, rude shrines in
high places, eyrie monasteries, the scant, laborious
fields rock-anchored on the steep hillside, huddled
villages, the sinuous and sparkling Indus, the un-
attainable heights of snow crowning the barren slopes
—such was the ever-changing, ever-recurring vision
which fleeting day disclosed, while night was for
deep sleep. Then at a turn of the trail we were
again, and for the last time, suddenly ushered into