In publishing the following account of a journey across Tibet and China, it has been my object to describe in a simple manner all that I did and saw from beginning to end, in the hope that some future traveller may learn, not so much what he ought to do, as what he ought not to do.

Those who have experienced the charms of a nomad's life, will, I trust, be once more reminded of happy days of freedom, will sympathise with us in our difficulties, and share the pleasures which they alone can appreciate. Should others, by chance, find some little interest in perusing these pages, and be tempted to taste for themselves the sweets of wandering through little known lands, they will be recompensed for doing so, and I shall have found my reward.

To those who patiently read to the end and close the book with a feeling of disappointment, I would appeal for leniency. Begun as it was at Lucknow, amid the distractions of polo, racing, and field-days, continued at Simla, India's summer capital, and finished in the wilds of Waziristan, it can lay no claim to literary or scientific merit, but only to being a plain story plainly told; and as such I give it to the public.

For the chapter on the Mohammedan rebellion in China, my thanks are due to my friend Mr. Ridley, of the "China Inland Mission," who lived in the very midst of the scene of trouble, and who kindly allowed me to make every use of his notes. They are likewise due to Sir Claude and Lady Macdonald, whose kindness and hospitality in Pekin can never be forgotten, and lastly, to those three faithful ones who stuck to us through thick and thin.

The names of Duffadar Shahzad Mir, Lassoo, and Esa Tsareng—known throughout as "Esau"—will always call to my mind three men without whom this journey could never have been accomplished, and in saying this I know that I am also expressing the feelings of my companion, Lieut. Malcolm.

Waziristan,
November, 1897.