Dr. Marx accompanied me for the three first days. The few native
Christians in Leh assembled in the gay garden plot of the lowly
mission-house to shake hands and wish me a good journey, and not a
few who were not Christians, some of them walking for the first hour
beside our horses. The road from Leh descends to a rude wooden
bridge over the Indus, a mighty stream even there, over blazing
slopes of gravel dignified by colossal manis and chod-tens in long
lines, built by the former kings of Ladak. On the other side of the
river gravel slopes ascend towards red mountains 20,000 feet in
height. Then comes a rocky spur crowned by the imposing castle of
the Gyalpo, the son of the dethroned king of Ladak, surmounted by a
forest of poles from which flutter yaks' tails and long streamers
inscribed with prayers. Others bear aloft the trident, the emblem of
Siva. Carefully hewn zigzags, entered through a much-decorated and
colossal chod-ten, lead to the castle. The village of Stok, the
prettiest and most prosperous in Ladak, fills up the mouth of a gorge
with its large farm-houses among poplar, apricot, and willow
plantations, and irrigated terraces of barley; and is imposing as
well as pretty, for the two roads by which it is approached are
avenues of lofty chod-tens and broad manis, all in excellent repair.
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