Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - I.—Eastward Bound
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has never been proofread. / Denna sida har aldrig korrekturlästs.
2 ADVENTURES IN TIBET.
Whilst still a schoolboy I was fascinated by the travels
of Adolf Nordenskiold, and later of Przhevalsky, and
dreamed of some day following in their footsteps, and in
those of Marco Polo. It is now nearly twenty years since
I first travelled in Persia, and stretched myself to rest under
the date-palms of Basra and Bagdad. Nine of the winters
which have passed since then I have spent on Asiatic soil,
and during the same period have had to strike out of my
life nine of the bright summers we enjoy in my native home.
With respect to the broad features of its geography, Asia
is now pretty well known, but in the matter of details there
is an endless amount of work to be done before we learn
all there is to be known about it. I was always drawii by
an irresistible attraction towards that continent of lofty
mountains and vast arid wastes. You may imagine the
delight which attends geographical discovery whereby
human knowledge is increased ;
you may imagine the fas-
cination of the endless desert, engulfing the traveller amid
its giant waves of sand ! Conceive, too, the peculiar joy
and pride of being the first to stand 16,000—17,000 feet
above the cares and anxieties of life, to be the first to behold
the stupendous mountains of Tibet, and to know that their
fields of everlasting snow have never before been seen by
human eyes, but have only been shone upon by the sun
and been bathed by the softer glow of the luminaries of the
night. And when you return home to houses and streets,
to steam-boats and railway trains, to newspapers and
telephones, and think back upon the free untrammelled
life in the saddle and the tent, and recall the solemn pro-
cessions of the camels, silent save for the tinkle, tinkle of their
bells, a thousand pictures of the past flit before you as in a
dream ;
you see them again like memories of the time when
you sat entranced in Cooper’s romances, Robinson Crusoe,
or Jules Verne, and you long to get away from the prosaic
life of Europe, and to re+urn to the poetry and glamour of
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
