To these two men, especially the former, I owe a debt of gratitude
which in no shape, not even by the hearty acknowledgment of it, can
ever be repaid, for they died within a few days of each other, of an
epidemic, last year, Dr. Marx and a new-born son being buried in one
grave. For twenty-five years Mr. Redslob, a man of noble physique
and intellect, a scholar and linguist, an expert botanist and an
admirable artist, devoted himself to the welfare of the Tibetans, and
though his great aim was to Christianize them, he gained their
confidence so thoroughly by his virtues, kindness, profound Tibetan
scholarship, and manliness, that he was loved and welcomed
everywhere, and is now mourned for as the best and truest friend the
people ever had.

I had scarcely finished breakfast when he called; a man of great
height and strong voice, with a cheery manner, a face beaming with
kindness, and speaking excellent English. Leh was the goal of my
journey, but Mr. Redslob came with a proposal to escort me over the
great passes to the northward for a three weeks' journey to Nubra, a
district formed of the combined valleys of the Shayok and Nubra
rivers, tributaries of the Indus, and abounding in interest. Of
course I at once accepted an offer so full of advantages, and the
performance was better even than the promise.

Two days were occupied in making preparations, but afterwards I spent
a fortnight in my tent at Leh, a city by no means to be passed over
without remark, for, though it and the region of which it is the
capital are very remote from the thoughts of most readers, it is one
of the centres of Central Asian commerce. There all traders from
India, Kashmir, and Afghanistan must halt for animals and supplies on