We left Shanghai by steamer on October 2nd, and reached Tsingtao (the port of Kiaochow) at about 8 P.M. on the 3rd. We were grateful to be allowed to stop on board for the night, as our train started from a station close at hand at 7 A.M., and we were saved the trouble of going to an hotel. The harbour is picturesquely situated at the mouth of the bay, surrounded by hills which have all received German names since the occupation. We were up betimes, and rather disturbed by the non-appearance of the Customs House official, without whose presence we could not go ashore. However, he appeared in time to let us get to the little wayside station, and we found other passengers waiting there, seated on the line with their luggage in a haphazard way. The Germans have not only got the concession known as Kiaochow, but also thirty miles on each side of the railway line which they have built from Tsingtao to Tsinan, the capital of the province, a distance of about 250 miles, through the centre of the province. The port is laid out just like a German town, and has hotels, statues, a post-office, commercial buildings, and private houses. The place is a fashionable summer resort, consequently the prices are high, and have gone up at least 50 per cent. since the coming of the Germans, who spend money lavishly.

The German Government has just decided to build a High School for Chinese boys of the upper class, at a cost of £30,000.

The rail is the dearest and dirtiest I have ever seen. The officials treat foreigners with indifference, and the Chinese with brutality—at least, so we heard at every place at which we stayed, and from the people who most appreciated the coming of the railway. One can only hope that things may be improved later, and a better class of officials put in charge of the line. There was but one train per day going in each direction, and the journey from Tsingtao to Tsinan takes about twelve hours. Occasional trains run on sections of the line. Although money has been poured out like water to make the German occupation a success, the object has so far not been accomplished, perhaps owing to lack of harmony between the three principal German officials in China—the Governor of Kiaochow, the Ambassador, and the Commander of the Fleet. The bulk of the trade on the line is still in Chinese hands, and the merchants have succeeded in getting permission to build a branch line from the treaty port, Chefoo, to Weihsien, which will be a great advantage to them. Naturally the Germans, after spending so much on their port, do not like to see trade diverted to another. They not only refuse to build the line themselves, but have memorialised the Throne to prevent the Chinese from being allowed to build one either: however, their representations have failed.

The province of Shantung is considerably larger than England, and is the most densely populated of any in China—557 persons to the square mile. Although it is well cultivated and prosperous in appearance, the partial failure of the crops has the immediate effect of throwing 50,000 of the inhabitants into a state of beggary. When this happens, the Government grants each beggar daily a bowl of rice. It is hard to realise this state of affairs when you pass through such a prosperous-looking country; the crops are wheat, different kinds of millet, sorghum, maize, sweet potatoes, beans, peas, hemp, and indigo. A large quantity of fruit is also grown—pears, apples, apricots, peaches, cherries, grapes, persimmons, &c. Every now and then you pass brilliant patches of vegetables of various sorts. A villager’s plot of land usually contains all the requisites of life—cotton (for clothes and bedding), wheat, potatoes, a fruit-tree, and last, but not least in China, a castor-oil plant; a few fowls and pigs will give him what most he loves in the way of food. I have known a Chinese woman eat fifteen eggs at a sitting, and she was surprised at the fit of indigestion which followed this meal! There is a curious specimen of fowl cultivated in this province, called the Cottonwool fowl; it is small, white and fluffy, looking just like a toy out of a cardboard box, and is exclusively used as medicine, especially for the diseases of women. Its flesh is dark, and the bones black; the chickens are the sweetest-looking objects. In contrast, the pigs of this part are black and hairy.

After leaving Tsingtao the train travelled slowly, stopping at every station, and these stations are all alike except a few large ones. There was a ticket office, and a row of five wooden-looking Chinese policemen standing at attention and drawn up in line as long as the train was in the station. They wear black sailor-hats, and hold batons as if they were rifles. For all the world they look like toy soldiers at 11¾d. per dozen, made in Germany. There are no platforms on these stations, and passengers squat on the line surrounded by their bedding, teapots, and birdcages. The Chinese take to railway journeys like ducks to water, so the trains are well filled. A woman may be seen approaching on her donkey, which travels at about the same rate as the train, so she stands a good chance of catching it even if she has started rather late. She is a picturesque object sitting astride on the top of her bedding, attired in a blue coat and pink trousers, tied in at the ankle with pea-green ribbons over white socks; the finishing touch of the costume being the coyest imaginable little pointed embroidered shoes.

At Weihsien, which we reached after some five and a half hours’ travelling, we were met by a friend, and passing out of the station, we found on the “cab-stand” a row of wheelbarrows waiting to take passengers to the town, about half a mile distant. The country is dotted with a good number of trees, mainly willows, poplars, cypresses, and mulberries, above which tower the walls of the city. We were carried in chairs, and were charmed with the view, as a lovely clear stream flowed at the base of the walls, reflecting a deep blue sky. Weihsien is an important business city, and its streets are named after the trades plied in them, such as Forge Street, Gold Street, and Silversmith Street. To us they appeared picturesque, but some people might call them squalid, and it is certainly wisest to look up, not down. We passed through the outskirts of the town to a fine-looking mission station, mainly built and worked by American Presbyterians who had recently coalesced with the English Baptists. This mission station was completely destroyed by Boxers in 1900, but now there is a fine group of buildings, including boys’ and girls’ schools, hospitals, a church, college buildings, and houses for workers (who number about twenty), and the whole is enclosed within a high wall. So far the teaching, even of Western science, has been entirely carried on in Chinese, but the demand for the knowledge of English is so pressing that it has recently been added to the curriculum.

From Weihsien we went next day to Tsingchowfu by rail, a journey of about two hours, and this is one of the great historical centres of the Empire. Here, again, the railway station was at a little distance from the town, and we found chairs waiting to convey us thither. The town has an imposing position on the hill, with a stream flowing round the greater part of it; consequently the walls look an astonishing height from the outer side, at least twice as high as from within, and the main entrance is across a bridge.

Within the gloomy north gate hangs a group of cages containing magistrates’ boots, but it is probable that they were originally used to hold something very different, namely, criminals’ heads. In Les derniers Jours de Pékin, Pierre Loti describes those he saw just after the siege, all with the queue hanging down between the bars.

There are many fields within the city, and if time had allowed I should willingly have stayed several weeks sketching there. The ruins of the palace belonging to the Ming dynasty are fast falling to decay, and as, unfortunately, the Government does not take any interest in the preservation of national relics,2 it is not unlikely that they may entirely disappear one of these days.

Both here and at Weihsien we were struck with what we heard of the village girls’ mission schools, showing the stability of character and also the capacity of Chinese girls. When a village wishes to establish a school, its inhabitants ask some mission to supply a teacher, and they make themselves responsible for the rest. The girl teacher is probably lodged in the home of the village elder, and he makes arrangements for the schoolroom, &c., and acts as guardian to the teacher. She organizes work, and has entire control as long as she manages it properly. About twice a year a missionary goes to inspect it and examine the scholars. We felt it would be interesting to see one of these schools, so our hostess offered to arrange the matter, and took us one day to the village of Wang Mu Chiang Chwang, some ten miles distant, which she was intending to visit for the purpose of inspection.