Read Ebook: Three Years in Western China A Narrative of Three Journeys in Ssu-ch'uan Kuei-chow and Yün-nan by Hosie Alexander Sir

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Ch'i-chiang Hsien is a city somewhat irregularly built along the foot and on the slope of a hill which rises from the left bank of a river, a tributary of the Yang-tsze and bearing the city's name. It is of very considerable importance as a trade dep?t for north-eastern Kuei-chow, and, being in water communication with the Yang-tsze, it is a valuable inlet for the Ss?-ch'uan salt trade with that province. Kuei-chow, unlike Ss?-ch'uan and Y?n-nan, is unprovided with salt wells within its borders, at least they have not yet been discovered, and the Lu Chou junks have their terminus at Ch'i-chiang, whence the mineral is distributed on the backs of bipeds.

This latter was to me a painful sight. Men and boys staggered on with enormous loads of cake salt packed in small creels and on wooden frameworks projecting above them. Walking in Indian file along the pathway that served as a road, they halted every few yards, resting their loads on a crutch which each carried in his hand, and, uttering that half whistle, half sigh, which proclaims the body's utter weariness and its gratitude for a moment's relief, scraped from their brows and faces, by a ring of split bamboo attached to the load by a string, the sweat that literally gushed from them. Of a surety they earn their bread by the sweat of their brow!

One expecting to find amongst such men a splendid development of muscle would be sadly disappointed. Like the brick-tea carriers on their way to Tibet, of whom I shall have occasion to speak hereafter, they were painfully wanting in leg. Yet the maximum load is about two hundred and forty pounds. For carrying the salt the distance of one hundred miles between Ch'i-chiang and T'ung-tz?, the first district city across the Kuei-chow border, they were paid at the rate of ten cash a catty, or one and a third pounds. As the journey occupied them ten days, and the return, empty-handed except for their wages in cash, two days, the strongest man earned not more than sixpence a day. But rice and lodging are cheap, and they are more or less happy at the end of each day's weary toil.

On my return to Ch'ung-k'ing from the journey now described, I was invited to visit a worker in pith after nightfall. Although somewhat surprised at the hour named, I accepted the invitation. On arrival, I was ushered into a badly lighted room, where a man was sitting at a table with his tools in front of him. These consisted of a smooth stone, about a foot square and an inch and a half thick, and a large knife or hatchet with a short wooden handle. The blade was about a foot long, two inches broad, and nearly half an inch thick at the back. It was sharp as a razor. Placing a piece of round pith on the stone and his left hand on the top, he rolled the pith backwards and forwards for a moment until he got it into the required position. Then, seizing the knife with his right hand, he held the edge of the blade, after a feint or two, close to the pith, which he kept rolling to the left with his left hand until nothing remained to roll; for the pith had, by the application of the knife, been pared into a square white sheet of uniform thickness. All that remained to be done was to square the edges. If the reader will roll up a sheet of paper, lay it on the table, place the left hand on the top, and gently unroll it to the left, he will have a good idea of how the feat was accomplished. It seemed so easy that I determined to have a trial. Posing as a professional worker, I succeeded in hacking the pith, and in nearly maiming myself for life. A steady hand and a keen eye are required for the work, and hence it is that the so-called "rice" paper is manufactured only at night, when the city is asleep and the makers are not liable to be disturbed.

The third day from Ch'i-chiang brought us to the Kuei-chow frontier, the road following for the most part the banks of the Ch'i-chiang River. Coal and iron are here found in abundance, and the market town of Kan-shui, which lies within the Ss?-ch'uan border, is famed for the manufacture of the iron pans, without one of which no house can be looked upon as properly furnished. Copper is also found at no great distance, and specimens of the ore, which I forwarded to Shanghai for analysis, contained thirty per cent. of metal.

It was near the Kuei-chow border that I first came in contact with the Miao-tz?, the aboriginal inhabitants of that province. I was sauntering along in front of my followers when, at a bend in the road, I was suddenly confronted by a couple of neatly-dressed figures which turned out to be two Miao-tz? girls, about fourteen and sixteen years of age as far as I could guess, arrayed in short jackets and kilts of a greyish-black woollen material, with turbans to match. They were very good looking, and, although somewhat coy, did not show that abject terror which, under similar circumstances, would have betrayed the Chinese female. With heads erect and black eyes lighted up with astonishment, they passed me by with no uncertain gait. Although the Miao-Tz? are generally supposed to be confined to Kuei-chow, not a few families are settled in this corner of Ss?-ch'uan. Those who are interested in this people will find another chapter specially devoted to them.

Seas of bare rocky mountains met my eyes as I sat on the borders of Ss?-ch'uan and Kuei-chow, and gazed southwards. It was like a transformation scene. From smiling fields of poppy, wheat, and beans, we were suddenly brought face to face with hill-side patches of the same crops sadly stunted. The poppy, which to the north was being bled, had not even burst into flower, and the scanty soil looked barren and profitless. The rich valleys were still invisible, and the prospect was very depressing; nor was the feeling in the least minimised by the appearance of our lodgings for the night. So bad were they, indeed, that I had to ask the local authority of Sung-k'an whether he could not find me more decent quarters. Another room was hunted up, but I failed to discover any great improvement. I have occupied hundreds of Chinese inns in the course of my travels, and I think that, on the whole, a Chinaman's own description which I found written on the wall of a room which I once tenanted in Ss?-ch'uan, errs on the side of leniency. In English garb it runs thus--

"Within this room you'll find the rats At least a goodly score, Three catties each they're bound to weigh, Or e'en a little more; At night you'll find a myriad bugs That stink and crawl and bite; If doubtful of the truth of this, Get up and strike a light."

It must have been the poet's up-bringing or his being overpowered by other ills that prevented him from finishing the work so well begun. Let me endeavour to complete the picture--

Within, without, vile odours dense Assail the unwary nose; Behind, the grunter squeaks and squeals And baffles all repose; Add clouds of tiny, buzzing things, Mosquitoes--if you please; And if the sum is not enough, Why, bless me, there are fleas.

To reach T'ung-tz?, a range of mountains over three thousand feet high had to be crossed. The summit was dotted with smooth, hollowed-out, limestone rocks, between which the scanty soil was being turned over by the peasants. On the south side of the range, a narrow valley, about nine miles in length, down which flows a stream, leads to the district city. As the latter is approached, the valley expands from a quarter to half a mile in breadth, and runs with the stream for another five miles until it is blocked by a low range of hills, through which the stream finds its way by a series of caverns. In the narrower part of the valley, I noticed a very ingenious contrivance for irrigating the fields. The stream flows about ten feet below the surrounding plots, and drains instead of watering them. To utilize it, a large light bamboo wheel, from forty to fifty feet in circumference, and two feet thick, was erected. Layers of split bamboo were inserted at short intervals in the outside edge as float-boards, and the water rushing against them caused the wheel to revolve. Short bamboos closed at the outer end were fixed on the rim at a slight angle. As the wheel revolved, these bamboos were immersed and filled with water, and on reaching the top poured their contents into a wooden trough raised nearly to the height of the wheel. Bamboo pipes led the water from the trough to the fields requiring irrigation. No care was required, and wheel after wheel was doing its work silently and alone.

I took advantage of a day's rest at T'ung-tz? to follow up the stream to the point where it enters the range of hills. The whole valley and the hill-sides were one mass of poppies in full bloom--white, mauve, and white tipped with pink being the chief colours. The capsules were less rounded, but more elongated than those of the Ss?-ch'uan plant. The Ku-lu, as the stream is called, enters the hill by three caverns, emerges through a single cavern some distance beyond, crosses another valley a few hundred yards in breadth and at right angles to the T'ung-tz? valley, again enters the hills and, after leaving by another single cavern, discharges itself into the Ch'ih-shui River. As might naturally be expected, both valleys are liable to inundation during the rainy season and, at the time of my visit, an attempt was being made to cut a tunnel behind the first range and induce the surplus waters to seek a nearer passage to the larger river. A mile of tunnel had already been completed, but a part had fallen in and hindered the progress of the work. As it seemed to me, the passage through the first range must always be liable to be choked by an increase in the volume of the stream and by floating d?bris, and little would appear to have been accomplished beyond scattering to the winds ?10,000 to ?12,000, and giving employment to a large number of men.

There is little of interest to attract the eye of the traveller between T'ung-tz? and Tsun-i Fu, the next city of any importance on the way to the provincial capital. The road runs over hills and through valleys, past coal mines and through poppy-fields, until a few miles north of the city the country opens out and shows the usual crops. The population, as everywhere in Kuei-chow, is scant; and if a field is wanted to relieve the congested provinces of the Empire, Kuei-chow and Y?n-nan can easily accommodate millions, and feel all the better for the increase. With the exception of the Miao-tz?, who have been driven into the south of Kuei-chow, the inhabitants consist of immigrants from Ss?-ch'uan, Hupeh and Hunan, who, for the most part, are satisfied with scratching small parts of the ground and disposing of the opium which they themselves are unable to consume to the eastern province of Hunan. A lazier set of people it would be hard to find anywhere. The mountainous character of the country renders overland transport excessively difficult, the consequence being that the products of the soil are exceedingly cheap and living inexpensive. Ruins of superior stone buildings are everywhere to be met with, but, instead of repairing these, the inhabitants are content to raise wattle and mud walls on the solid foundations, and turn the floors of the superfluous houses into vegetable gardens. The Miao-tz? must, indeed, have had a hot time of it. Where forests of oak once stood, only black charred roots and columns of dressed granite now remain, to tell the tale of a well-to-do Miao-tz? peasantry in hand to hand conflict with better-armed opponents.

How to utilize coal-dust as fuel has always been a fruitful topic of discussion where coal mines are worked. I notice that the most recent invention in England is the admixture of pitch with the dust. Here and elsewhere in China, clay is the ingredient used; and the mixture, after being reduced to the necessary consistency by the addition of water, is placed in moulds, whence it issues, about two pounds in weight, in the shape of the base half of a cone, and is then exposed to the sun to dry. This fuel is fairly tenacious, and will bear considerable rough transit. From personal experience in Peking, I may add that ignition is not a difficult matter, and that a powerful heat results.

The walls of Tsun-i, which we entered on the afternoon of the 29th of April, are said to contain a population of 45,000 souls. It is a manufacturing city. Wild silk, gathered from the scrub-oak in the neighbourhood, is spun and woven into a coarse fabric, which is largely exported through Ss?-ch'uan to the central and eastern provinces. It is a peculiarity of Kuei-chow towns that there are no suburbs outside the walls; but, when the struggles that have taken place within the province and the consequent insecurity are considered, their absence is not a matter for surprise.

About forty miles to the south of Tsun-i, we struck the left bank of the Wu Chiang, which here flows with a swift current through a deep limestone gorge in an east-north-east direction. Looking down into the gorge, I could make out on the opposite bank a solid platform of masonry, over which dangled a row of iron chains or rods into the river. Descending through accumulations of building materials, we soon reached a similar platform, where I discovered that a great catastrophe had recently occurred. Seven months before our visit the chains or hooked rods--each about a yard long--for supporting the roadway, had been successfully stretched, built into the masonry on either side and the ends fixed into the solid rock. The side suspension chains, which were carried over stone turrets on either side of the piers, were in process of being stretched, when the whole structure collapsed, carrying with it a large number of workmen, many of whom were drowned or fatally injured. Their graves are to be seen on the left bank of the river. The turrets were all carried away, and nothing remained but the piers, the severed chains, and many of the planks which had formed the roadway. In manufacturing the chains, which was done on the spot--the workshops were still standing--local iron, which appeared to be of an inferior quality and to have been insufficiently malleated, had been used. The bridge was rebuilt in the year of our visit , but iron from Y?n-nan was employed.

A brief glance across the Wu Chiang warned me that there was no time to tarry on the left bank, for the road could be seen zig-zagging up a gulley on the opposite shore. Collecting our forces, which had scattered on a tour of inspection, we descended to the river, a stream sixty yards in breadth, and were ferried across by detachments in a rickety old boat. A weary climb of two hours, past disused iron mines overgrown with brushwood, brought us to the Kuan-ai Customs barrier, perched on the summit of the range. Beyond the barrier we obtained a splendid view of the country to the south; barren, treeless peaks, on the same level as ourselves--three to four thousand feet--lay before us, cheerless, uninhabited, lifeless. What a picture! Where are the Miao-tz? that used to till these fields and tend their herds on the mountain sides? They were butchered and their bones are rotting underneath. Northern Kuei-chow is a huge graveyard, with no monuments to mark the fierce struggle against extortion and oppression, of rude weapons against foreign arms of precision. Justice is a fine thing to talk about and inculcate, but a hard thing to practise.

Three miles from the river my followers clamoured for a day's rest. Although only a three days' journey from Kuei-yang, the capital of the province, where I proposed to make a short stay, I was compelled to accede to their request. Twenty miles may seem a poor day's work; but my readers should bear in mind that roads, in the proper sense of the word, do not exist, and that the mountain paths which we have been travelling have been sadly neglected. During the whole of my time in Kuei-chow I never once saw a cart, the entire trade--such as it is--being conducted on the backs of bipeds and quadrupeds. A nearer acquaintance with the country between the Wu Chiang and Kuei-yang failed to leave on my mind a livelier impression than that derived from the panorama of desolation as seen from the Kuan-ai barrier. During the day here and there a hut or a poppy-patch was the only sign of human existence, and at night came the miserable village full of lethargic opium-sodden inhabitants.

Ten miles of grassy downs and fifteen miles of barren mountain sides constitute the approach to the provincial capital. At the village, which lies between, an escort of eight soldiers, two mounted officers, and a host of runners from the Magistrate's Yam?n, awaited us to protect me from the dangers of the wilderness. The occasional huts give place to guard-houses, which would seem to imply that the country is not so safe as it looks. Passing through an archway bridging the road between two steep mountain peaks, where the officer at the receipt of customs glared greedily at our caravan; and, rounding a mountain side, we soon caught a glimpse of Kuei-yang lying in a plain far below us. On the left is the graveyard of the city, its white stones like glittering specks dotting the hill side. A white wall surrounds the town; and numerous green trees rising above the house-tops were suggestive of coolness and shade. But all is not gold that glitters, and there was soon revealed to us an ordinary Chinese city containing the usual marks of decay.

On the morning of the 6th of May--the day after our arrival--I spent a very pleasant half-hour with the Governor of the province, who was courtesy itself. His Excellency was deeply interested in the subject of the navigation of the Upper Yang-tsze by steam, and showed complete familiarity with the sayings of the Shanghai vernacular press. He pressed me to stay a few days; but the heat was oppressive, and I determined to push on to Y?n-nan without delay. To His Excellency I owe much; he was good enough to send orders along the route that I was to be accommodated in the official rest-houses as much as possible, so that I was enabled to get rid of the crowds which collect and gaze with glassy eyes at the unfortunate foreigner. It is difficult to satisfy a Chinese crowd; one may sit or stand before one's room-door in an inn for hours, yet the inquisitiveness remains unabated. Enter the room, and every crack in the woodwork of the walls is occupied by peering eyes, while the paper windows are quickly converted into sieves by moistened finger-tips, and black glittering orbs are glued to them. A boot deftly aimed gives momentary, but only momentary, relief. Kuei-chow is not a chief sinner in this respect. In Western China, Ss?-ch'uan undoubtedly takes the palm.

During the afternoon of my stay in Kuei-yang I made a flying perambulation of the city. In the southern part, the shops were large and apparently prosperous, and the streets, which were fairly broad, were crowded. Foreign cottons brought from Hankow by way of the Tung-t'ing Lake and the Yuan River were plentifully displayed. I shall have occasion to refer again to this route, which was followed by the unfortunate Margary on his way across China to Burmah.

WESTWARD TO Y?N-NAN.

White wax insects--Terrible hailstorm and its effects--Miao-tz? houses and women--An-shun Fu--Limestone cave--Pai-shui waterfall--Reception at Lang-t'ai T'ing--Lang-wang Mountain and the "Cave of the Spirits"--Caught in a thunderstorm--The pebbly strand of the Mao-k'ou River--Pack-animals and their treatment--The Y?n-nan frontier--A cart at last--Exploring a cave--Underground rivers--Exceptional courtesy--Go?tre--Breeding ground of the Y?n-nan pony--Trade route to Tonquin--Marching knee-deep in mud and water--Poverty of inhabitants--Queen's birthday dinner in a back-yard--Chinese inquisitiveness--The Sung-ming Lake--A local escort--A glorious view--Y?n-nan Fu.

Ten miles west of Kuei-yang is the main coal-field for supplying the provincial capital with fuel. The road winds among and over low hills untouched by the hoe of the peasant; rank grass and brushwood tell the tale of a meagre population content to exist on the produce of the narrow valleys--patches of barley or wheat, and poppy and rice in their season. Beyond the hills, a valley leads to the district city of Ch'ing-ch?n, and here a surprising sight met the eye. Up to the very walls of the city stretched an immense poppy-field, the stems fresh and erect, but hardly a capsule remaining. Here at last, thought I, have the authorities in a fit of virtuous indignation advanced beyond issuing proclamations laden with threats of punishment; here surely must be a Magistrate who has a will of his own and the courage to carry it into effect. Alas! I wronged him. 'Twas another celestial authority that did the deed. On the night of the 2nd of May, a terrible hailstorm burst over the district, destroying not only the growing crops but even playing havoc within the walls. The streets were full of broken tiles, many of the roofs having succumbed to the hailstones, which were described to me as weighing as much as seven and even eight ounces. The capsules, which were scattered on the ground, had all been collected for the sake of the sweet cooking-oil which is obtained from the seed, and of the cakes which are manufactured from the seed itself. Six miles by six represented the area over which the hail had descended. The stems and branches of the roadside trees, which were all but denuded of leaves, looked as if they had been hacked with a blunt axe. Rapeseed, beans, wheat, and barley, which were growing in scant patches to the west of the city, were flattened with the ground.

In this part of the country, cultivation is confined to the neighbourhood of towns and villages. The distance between Ch'ing-ch?n and An-p'ing, the next district city, is twenty miles; and, if we except the poppy which was growing abundantly near the latter, there was no cultivation worthy of the name. Grass-covered plains, once smiling fields, intercepted by curious conical hills partly clad with brushwood and bracken, are happy hunting grounds for herds of tame buffaloes. Truly, the land of the Miao-tz? was devastated, and its inhabitants butchered and scattered. Poverty reigns along the highroad. Three miles west of Ch'ing-ch?n, we stopped for breakfast at a hamlet overlooking a tributary of the Wu Chiang. Neither chair nor table was procurable; but they were hardly necessary, for it did not take long to put away the remains of my dinner of the previous evening. Here I found that the knowledge possessed by the local escorts is not above suspicion. Sitting on the stone bridge which spans the stream just mentioned, I asked them the name and destination of the latter; but I failed to receive a satisfactory answer. One of the soldiers, however, who volunteered the statement that the bridge on which I was sitting had nine arches, was somewhat non-plussed to find, on being sent to count, that it was two short of the number he gave.

An-p'ing has not yet recovered from the ravages of the civil war; the walls are in a state of decay, and many of the houses which they encircle are represented by heaps of ruins. The surrounding country is almost entirely inhabited by Miao-tz?, whose hamlets are perched on inaccessible hill-tops--stone refuges occupying the commanding heights. When hard pressed, they drove their cattle into the latter for safety and, sheltering themselves behind the walls, bade defiance to their assailants.

The villages, through which the road passes between An-p'ing and An-shun, are of a non-Chinese type. The walls of the houses are built of loose stones and are very thick, the roofs being composed of broad stone slabs. The inmates appeared to be of a degraded race, and have, in all probability, a strain of Miao-tz? blood. The men were dressed in sombre Chinese clothes, while the women were inclined to gaudy colours.

At one of these villages it was market day; herds of oxen, horses, and pigs were on the ground, and the women, arrayed in all the colours of the rainbow and ornamented with silver earrings, bangles and rings, were hurrying in with baskets of eggs and vegetables. In the market were four slender, sinewy Miao-tz? men, somewhat curiously dressed. Black cloth bands encircled their foreheads, loose gowns of similar material, fastened with girdles, covered them from neck to ankle, huge silver earrings swung from their left ears and their feet were encased in straw sandals. Bowls of opium were being hawked about the village, and I was told that the Miao-tz?, although extensive cultivators of the poppy, do not themselves smoke the drug.

An-shun is approached through a long valley, which contracts as the city is neared. At the eastern end, the road, which is lined with memorial stone archways, ascends a gentle slope--the graveyard of the town--to the walls. From the gate we looked down into a broad street, crowded with people engaged in business. On stalls at either side, goods of all kinds were plentifully displayed, and the shops behind them were large and apparently prosperous. Ponies laden with salt jostled us in the gateway, and I found, on enquiry, that An-shun is supplied with this necessity of life by way of the Yung-ning River, which enters the Yang-tsze at the district city of Na-chi, and is the most important trade highway to Western Kuei-chow. This route, which I followed in 1883, will be found described in a subsequent chapter.

The main roads of China are each divided into stages, only one of which can, with convenience and comfort to the traveller, be accomplished in a day. The plan which I followed was invariably as follows. Rising at daybreak, I had a cup of coffee or tea, pushed on to the first hamlet or village, where we all breakfasted, travelled till noon when we lunched at the most convenient spot, and arrived at the end of the stage about four or five o'clock in the afternoon. Inns were not always available during the day, and at our first halting place after leaving An-shun, we took possession of a house which we shared with a couple of carriers, who seemed to prefer a whiff of the opium pipe to eating. On one occasion only, as far as I can recollect, was I refused temporary lodgment, the inmates, as a rule, being only too willing to shelter us for a few cash. As a matter of fact, they had little to fear, for they had nothing to steal.

Ch?n-ning Chou, which was the end of the stage on the 10th of May, is a poor city, built on a hill slope, and consists of one decent street and a number of dilapidated thoroughfares. It lies at the western end of a valley, which was filled with yellow wheat and barley, submerged paddy-land, and poppy-fields. Our landlord told me that, previous to the rebellion, the walls sheltered from seven to eight thousand families, now, however, reduced to a thousand. A mile to the west of Ch?n-ning we came upon a cave close to the highroad. It was formed of a single limestone dome, which has been converted into a temple. To us it presented the appearance of a poorhouse, for our entrance aroused a crowd of squalid beggars, who had taken up their quarters in its cool shade. They did not look as if they had a very close acquaintance with the clear, limpid stream which flows through it and enters a limestone hill fifty yards beyond. We were no longer the only travellers going west; a number of men were carrying silver to Y?n-nan to purchase opium. The value of the drug, its small bulk and superiority, enable it to be carried across the province of Kuei-chow to Hunan and other provinces at a profit.

The Pai-shui, or "White Water" river, spanned by a stone bridge of five arches at the eastern end of the village of Huang-kuo-shu, goes south to join the northern section of the Canton or West River. It is a shallow stream thirty yards in breadth and forms a beautiful waterfall in the rear of the village, creeping leisurely over the brown rocks and falling about a hundred feet. In the temple of the "Dragon Prince" we spread our mid-day meal, having had to fast since daybreak, the hamlets on the road west of Ch?n-ning being unable to supply us even with a single egg. A series of weary ascents and descents ultimately landed us in the small village of P'o-kung, which had recently been the scene of a conflagration. Ten days before our arrival it was all but consumed, and the inhabitants were huddled together amidst its charred remains, still wanting in courage or in funds to re-erect their homes.

Is there no level ground anywhere in the province of Kuei-chow? This was the question that suggested itself to me as I gained the ridge that rises to the west of P'o-kung. The answer lay ahead. Waves of conical hills and mountain ranges beyond seemed to block the passage to Y?n-nan. Down and up, and down again, brought us to a valley, extending for miles, at the far end of which rests the prosperous city of Lang-t'ai T'ing, famous for the superiority of its opium. Some miles from its walls we were met by two escorts, one sent by the Sub-prefect, the other by the Colonel. As we approached, they dropped on their knees and bade me welcome. The military escort, which was composed of five soldiers armed with matchlocks and four with banners, had evidently taken advantage of their excursion to do a little shooting. One man had bagged half a dozen pigeons, and a bird of about the same size with a perfect yellow plumage, which I failed to recognize. As every one is aware, the Chinese do many things in a way the exact reverse of what we consider right and proper. How should a soldier carry his musket? Is it easier to carry the stock or the barrel over the shoulder? My escort preferred to handle the barrel.

On arrival at Lang-t'ai, the Colonel, to whom I sent a message of thanks for his foresight and precaution, pressed me to stay and witness a review that was to be held in a couple of days; but the comparatively cool weather, and the fact that I had already seen enough of his soldiers and their little ways, decided me to decline the kind invitation.

Lang-t'ai lies low, and by the eastern approach nothing is visible but a part of the wall, the town itself being obscured by dense foliage. A thick mist concealed everything from view as we left the following morning. After struggling for two hours among the hills that overlook the city on the north-west, we cleared the mist and entered a coal district where the miners were hard at work. A splendid view was obtained from the Wang-shan temple on the ridge where we breakfasted; the Lang-wang Shan, the highest mountain in the province, towered on our right. Under the summit, which is of bare rock, there is a cave--the "Cave of the Spirits"--which has a very wide reputation, and, as a consequence, is much visited by devotees. As we passed, pilgrims were burning joss-paper far below it. Half-way down on the western side we were overtaken by a terrific thunderstorm, which continued far into the night. When we reached the grass-covered plain that lies below, I took refuge in my chair; but the violent gusts of wind, which accompanied the sheets of descending water, soon wrenched off the rain covers and exposed us to the full blast of the storm.

Wet to the skin we entered the village of Mao-k'ou, which consists of one street, with numerous gardens surrounded by hedges of cactus, on the left bank of a stream fifty yards in breadth, which issues from a gorge a few hundred yards above the village. Here there was no resisting the appeal for a day's rest which was at once made to me. A carrier's luggage is of the lightest possible description; the single suit of clothes in which he stands is, as a rule, all that he possesses, and when that is reduced to a pulp, it has to be washed and dried before he can again venture out.

I spent the morning of our day of rest on the pebbly strand of the Mao-k'ou river, which goes south to swell the upper waters of the north branch of the West River, in the province of Kwang-si. Numerous fossils are to be found here, and I purchased three different specimens from the landlord of our inn. The current of the river is very rapid.

On leaving Mao-k'ou on the following morning, we ascended its left bank five hundred yards before attempting the crossing; our boats did not reach the right bank until we were opposite the village. An undulating upland stretches westward, covered with rank wild grass, affording excellent cover for game, which was plentiful. Pheasants crowed all round us, and took wing when we approached too close. In the middle of this grassy waste we were caught up by a caravan of twenty ponies, laden with bamboo hats, on their way from Kuei-yang to Y?n-nan Fu. They were strong, hardy little animals, game to the very last. Each had a load of three hundred and sixty hats; and I found, when I afterwards saw them turned loose to graze, that not one had a whole back. One poor beast was a pitiful sight; it had a sore at least a foot long, and down almost to its ribs. The flies, attracted by the smell in a temperature of 90? F., rendered its life miserable, and I offered to buy it at a reasonable price and put it out of agony, but the owner was devoid of the least spark of humanity and would not listen to my entreaties. He even grumbled loudly when I made him take off half the load and distribute it amongst the others. The greed of the ordinary Chinese leaves little room for kindness to man's humbler assistants. An instance occurs to me at the moment. I once visited the Great Wall, and, as visitors do, hired a donkey to carry me up the rough Nan-k'ou Pass. I had not proceeded far when a horrid stench assailed my nostrils; its continuance baffled me until a sudden lurch of the saddle revealed a sickening sight. Needless to say, I walked the rest of the way.

Towards the western end of the grassy upland, the fir and the oak are dotted about and relieve the monotony of the barren undulations, which are succeeded by a coal-producing valley and two mountain ranges following closely on each other, being separated by only a few rice fields. The village of Kuan-tz?-yao, which lies behind the ranges, marks the boundary of the bare, uncultivated hills. A reddish tilled soil now covers immense carboniferous deposits. If my reader is as tired of hearing of these uninteresting mountain ranges as I was in crossing them, he will be relieved to know that the plateau of Y?n-nan will soon be reached.

A journey of three days and a half from Kuan-tz?-yao along cultivated valleys, and including two more ascents and descents, brought us early in the afternoon of the 20th of May to the Y?n-nan frontier. During this time two new crops put in an appearance--buckwheat and oats. I saw, too, a new method of manuring the fields. For some days I had been puzzled to account for the peculiar growth of certain trees whose branches were very short, and for which I could obtain no satisfactory explanation; but all at once I came upon a peasant hacking off the branches, and another ploughing them into the rice fields. A barren waste leads up to the frontier town of Sh?n-ching-kuan, where we were received with the usual Chinese salute of three guns. Stopping for a rest, I discovered that the little town possesses, besides its two memorial archways, four stone lions, two facing Kuei-chow, with imitation scales to represent the rainy character of that province, and two facing west, with imitation scales and dust, indicating the rainy as well as the windy reputation of Y?n-nan.

The excitement of entering a new province raised the spirits of my bearers, who hurried me along the red sandy road, which slopes past several nullahs to a plain only partly cultivated, because liable to inundation. Could it be possible? It seemed almost too good to be true. Lumbering towards us came a couple of bullocks, dragging an apology for a cart behind them. The faces of my men were a study; with one or two exceptions, they had never seen this method of transport, and they stood and gazed at this thing on wheels, which, proud as they were of their province, was not in use among their Ss?-ch'uan hills. Rude though the vehicle was, it was a welcome innovation, for it presaged better roads and a level country. Two low, thick wooden wheels, joined together by a ponderous beam, supported a small platform of planks encircled by a framework about two feet in height, while a single short shaft projected from the platform in front.

P'ing-i Hsien, the first district city across the Y?n-nan frontier, is built on the south face of a low hill overlooking an extensive well-watered plain, which was covered with wheat, nigh unto harvest, and poppies. It is a great wheat country, and the district is one of the chief feeders of the provincial capital. Oats, too, were growing on the hills which bound the plain on the eastern side; but there was a decided want of straw, for the stalks had only shot a couple of inches above ground.

Less than a mile beyond the city we came upon the cave mentioned by Margary in his journal. Lighting our lamps, we explored it for a few hundred yards in a straight line, from its mouth to the point where it branches off to the right. In the far interior, huge stalactites hung from the roof. The utter silence of the cavern, broken only by our stumbling over the rough floor, and the weird appearance of the contorted limestone lighted up by our dim lamps, did not tempt us to tarry in the dank and cheerless atmosphere. It had thundered and rained heavily over-night; and, about a mile and a half to the west of the cave, the high-road was blocked by a deep, raging torrent, twenty yards in breadth. My followers, always intent upon a rest, advocated a return to P'ing-i, until the violence of the torrent had abated; but to this I would not listen. Fortunately, a native of the place soon came upon the scene, and mildly suggested that there was a path across some hills farther east. Scouting the statement, they clamoured all the more for a return to dry quarters. Seeing, however, that he was in earnest, I resolved to try the hills, and told my men to follow me or remain where they were till able to ford the torrent. As the rain increased in violence and the atmosphere became sensibly colder, they agreed to accompany me, stating, at the same time, their firm conviction that we were going on a fool's errand. The native proved to be right, however, for we found an excellent pathway, and from the ridge overlooking the other side of the plain I tried to make out the raging stream that had just baffled us. It was nowhere to be seen, and I soon learned that we had already crossed it by a natural bridge, for it entered a cavern only a few hundred yards from the high-road, the entrance being concealed by a bend in the hills. This adventure cost us our breakfast, as it was noon ere we reached the first hamlet. These underground rivers are very numerous in Kuei-chow and Y?n-nan; the composition of the rocks, which are of lime and sandstone, facilitates the drainage of the valleys and plains, which would otherwise be converted into lakes.

In the hills to the west of the plain, coal is found in abundance, the interstices in the walls of the houses being frequently filled with black lumps instead of stone. The villagers told us that snow falls in winter, and that the climate is exceedingly cold. On the bare treeless highlands beyond, potatoes, buckwheat, oats, and a little poppy, were being cultivated.

As a rule, a Chinese has little to gain by showing civility to a foreigner, be he official, merchant, or missionary; and courtesy, even of the barest description, is thoroughly appreciated in a land where stone-throwing, mobbing, and threatening are too often indulged in with impunity. The marked attention paid to us at Pai-shui, the end of the first stage from P'ing-i Hsien, was a very pleasant surprise. The small local officials, with an escort, met me some miles from their village, and hurried on to receive me at the gate. A Taotai, who had been travelling in my company on his way to Western Y?n-nan, and with whom I had afterwards a pleasant chat about those terrible Kuei-chow roads and our struggles to get the best inns, had just preceded me, and taken up his quarters in the official rest-house; but a comfortable room was quickly procured for me, the authorities, much against my will, having gone the length of ejecting a number of occupiers. As we left early next morning, the authorities awaited us at the opposite gate of their once-walled village, to speed us on our way. It would greatly lessen the misery of travelling in China if such courtesy were more frequently forthcoming.

The people in the neighbourhood of Pai-shui are very much afflicted with go?tre, especially the women, and the idea is prevalent among them that the impurities contained in the salt which they consume is the cause of the malady. Here we came across a consignment of red copper for the metropolis, transported on the backs of nearly four hundred mules and ponies from the mines of Tung-ch'uan Fu to Pe-s? T'ing, the head of navigation of the West River, in the province of Kwang-si. It seemed a roundabout way of sending copper north, but I was informed that on one occasion, when shipments used to be despatched by way of the Yang-tsze, a great storm arose and overwhelmed more than a hundred junks and their cargoes. I heard afterwards that peculation had probably more to do with the loss than a storm.

The city of Chan-i Chou, fifteen miles to the west of Pai-shui, lies in the north of an immense plain, famous throughout Western China as the breeding ground of the sturdy Y?n-nan pony. Brood mares and their foals were grazing on the large grass fields, which occupied no mean part of the plain. A stream, spanned by a good three-arched stone bridge, flows south past the east gate of the city on its way to join the northern branch of the West River. It was at one time a section of the route by which lead was carried from the north of Y?n-nan to Tonquin. Consignments were conveyed by boat from Chan-i Chou to Ma-kai, a place fifty miles to the south, and thence overland to M?ng-tz? Hsien, on the head waters of the Song-koi, now the residence of a French Consul.

Rain descended in torrents during the night of our stay in Chan-i, and the dawn of the 23rd of May was not accompanied by the usual movements and noises that betokened an early start. On the contrary, I was soon waited upon by a deputation, which begged me, on account of the rains, to defer my departure for a day; but the fact that I was almost in the presence of my goal compelled me to resist their demand. After two hours spent in arguing, we trooped sullenly out of the city. The plain, which on the previous afternoon was bright with its golden crops of wheat and barley, was now cold and cheerless; the road was one mass of mud in which we sank to the knees; a great part of the surrounding country was under water; and the rain fell in sheets.

The hamlets in the neighbourhood were poor in the extreme. Stopping for breakfast, we borrowed a room and despatched a youngster to forage for a table and eggs. The way in which these people live is astounding: they occupy rooms begrimed with smoke--chimneys are considered superfluous--willingly sharing them with dogs, pigs, fowls, and insect pests.

The unceasing downpour obliged us to abandon the idea of completing a day's stage, which we broke at the market town of Mien-tien, having accomplished only twelve miles, or half the distance necessary to ensure decent accommodation. We were quartered in a loft over a stable, where a dozen ponies, unable like ourselves to proceed farther, were installed.

As the morrow was the anniversary of Her Majesty's Birthday, I determined to secure a good dinner for the occasion; my tinned provisions had long since given out, and I was entirely dependent on local supplies. I succeeded in purchasing a fowl and a few potatoes, which we carried with us over the plain of yellow-ochre soil which lies between Chan-i and Ma-lung Chou.

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