We reached Ichang on Sunday afternoon, and were glad to be in time for a service in the Presbyterian church, the last really homelike church we attended till we reached Burma. In all other churches there were things to remind us that we were in China, but here we were in Scotland once more, and this is the only station of the Scotch Established Church in China proper: they have a flourishing work, however, in Manchuria.

Ichang has quite a colony of Europeans. They were anxious to have a good road outside the town for the sake of exercise, and when we visited the tennis club we saw the one they had made. The whole surface of the ground for miles and miles is covered with mounds (= graves), so closely packed together that it is impossible to help treading on them if you leave the path. The Europeans knew there would be great difficulty in obtaining permission to make the road they wanted, so they subscribed the requisite funds among themselves and took French leave to make it. Before the Chinese had recovered from their surprise, or had decided what to do, the road was made. Then the Chinese acted in a truly magnanimous way. Instead of simply seizing it, as they had every right to do (according to my informant’s story), they paid the Europeans all they had spent upon it, saying they must have the road in their own hands.

From my sketch some idea may be formed of the vast multitudes of graves outside Ichang: some have sticks planted in them with little paper streamers. Wherever we travelled we saw the same sight—endless graves speaking of the innumerable dead.

It took some time to make an agreement for a house-boat to take us from Ichang to Wanhsien, as the boatmen prefer to go as far as Chungking, where they can usually secure a fresh cargo for the return journey; but eventually the matter was satisfactorily settled. A nice clean boat was engaged, with three compartments and a good space for cooking at the back, above which a little god sat in a shrine. We decided to inhabit the two front rooms, and Mr. Ku and Liu the back one, and we hung up curtains to supplement the flimsy partitions, as they consisted of a few loose planks, with gaps of one or two inches wide between them, and at quite a slight touch they fell down.

It was a great convenience that our interpreter and our servant (who had also formerly been his servant) shared a room and always had their meals together. This is quite a usual arrangement in China, as there never seems to be any desire for privacy amongst the Chinese, and servants are on a much more intimate footing with their masters than is the case with us.

The agreement for the boat was drawn up in writing, and the crew was to consist of nineteen men: the sum to be paid for the whole trip was 95 taels (about £14). As Hosie mentions in his book that he had to pay £45 for his boat to Chungking (about twice the distance, though the latter half is much the least arduous and dangerous), we were not dissatisfied with our bargain, although we were told we were paying quite too much.

The captain received 75 taels at starting, ten taels when half-way, and the remaining ten on arrival. Though the bargain was struck on Tuesday, we did not succeed in starting till Saturday morning, and in the mean time both we and the captain were busy with our preparations. We got wadded Chinese clothes, for it was beginning to get cold, and we thought (though in this we proved to be mistaken, for no curiosity was exhibited about us at any place we visited in European clothes) that they would save us from much inquisitive inspection in the western provinces. Long fur-lined silk coats we had got in Peking (about £3. 10s.), tall black velvet felt-lined boots (7s. 6d.), wadded silk jackets (7s. 6d.), black cloth (European) skirt, described on the bill in Mr. Chang’s best English as “brewen fine cloth beetticoat” (£1. 2s. 6d.). Our heating and cooking apparatus had to be made—two impromptu charcoal stoves made out of packing-cases lined with bricks, a little oven to stand on the top, three pans with lids (made out of the ubiquitous kerosene tin), two tins, and a zinc kettle, all for the modest sum of 6s. 6d. As our servant’s cooking capacity proved to be very limited—he proudly announced he could cook both a chicken and a pudding—we decided to trust rather to my experience, and we laid in a supply of stores, which are easily obtainable at Ichang.

The next point was to secure a red-boat (= lifeboat), for which we applied to the British Consul, and he again had to apply to the Chinese General, who is always willing to provide one gratis to foreign travellers. The Consul—like many of his class in China—at once suggested every possible difficulty, and seemed to think that at his request we should meekly turn round and go home again. He told us that he had just refused to give the bishop a passport for some ladies travelling into Szechwan, and we were thankful that we had got ours—though not without difficulty and vexation—elsewhere. As we were backed up by advice received at the British Embassy at Peking with regard to our journey, the Consul could not refuse to apply for the red-boat escort, though later in the day he had the satisfaction of telling us that none was available. Happily, however, one came in before we started, so that we had No. 48 assigned to us on Friday evening. It was very wet all day, but I found an interesting subject to paint in a family ancestral tablet. On the right-hand side is a drum for worship, and on the altar in front of the tablet is a bronze vase in which burning sticks of incense are placed. On certain days the members of the family prostrate themselves before it, and offerings of cakes and fruit are presented by them.

Ancestral worship dates from the earliest times, and has even to the present time the strongest hold upon people of all classes. The Emperor possesses seven shrines, representing his various ancestors; the nobles are allowed five shrines, and ordinary people have only one. The offerings are by no means costly or lavish, but at the same time they must not be mean; and it is related of a certain high official, with censure, that the sucking pig which he offered for his father was not large enough to fill the dish! Closely allied with ancestral worship is that greatest virtue of the Chinese, filial piety; and Confucius lays stress in his teaching on the spirit in which its duties are to be carried out, pointing out that it is best seen in endeavouring to realise the aims of the forefathers.

After dinner we made our way through the rain down the slippery bank to our boat, across a most shaky plank. The bare boards looked rather dull quarters for the night, and the wind whistled dismally, so our kind hosts offered to lend us deck-chairs and a good supply of newspapers to keep out draughts—an offer we thankfully accepted. Soon we had everything ship-shape, and began to accustom ourselves to the lullaby provided by nineteen snorers, packed like herrings into the few yards composing the forepart of the boat.

We made a pretence of starting the next morning between seven and eight o’clock, heralded by a tremendous trampling overhead on our little roof, which must have been remarkably tough not to have given way. The mats used as an awning over the boatmen at night were stacked on our roof during the day. We slowly made our way by the aid of a sail for about half a mile up the river, alongside the town; then the men stopped for breakfast, and we were told that the captain had gone ashore to buy more bamboo towing-ropes. This took another hour or two. Again we started, but after another half-mile we drew up beside an island for a very long spell. Festina lente was evidently the watchword, and it took a great many exhortations through Mr. Ku, as interpreter, before we got the men started again. Eventually we succeeded in reaching the custom-house (ten miles up the river) by dusk, and there tied up for the night.

From that time we always started soon after daylight, and there was no lack of interest. The scenery became very grand—the banks were nearer to each other, and lofty crags rose precipitously from the river-side, often to a considerable height, 200 or 250 feet. Though the colour of the water is ugly and muddy, the vegetation is most beautiful, and the foliage of the azalea added greatly to the charm of the landscape. There was so little wind that the sail was practically useless, and the men shouted for the wind in vain. It is curious how much faith they have in shouting, despite their frequent failure. They were obliged to row, or go ashore and track. There is one long oar on each side of the boat, and it is worked by five or six men, who twist it to the accompaniment of a hoarse vocal noise—it can hardly be called a chant—and it sometimes rises to a veritable howl! Not infrequently one of the rowers stands on a plank on the outer side of the oar—namely, above the river—fixed at right angles to the boat. When the current is strong the men work in a sort of frenzy and stamp like elephants, their voices rising to a deafening din, assisted by those of the rest of the crew. Despite the cold they strip to the waist, and only put on their thin blue cotton coats when they go on shore to track.

One of the men, clad in a long coat, utilised an unwonted lull in his labours to wash his nether garment in the rice-tub which had just been emptied by the hungry men! His teeth were chattering with cold, and he shivered wofully in the raw air. The ten men who act as trackers and tow the boat are as nimble as cats and scale the rocks with marvellous rapidity, keeping up a rapid trot over the most uncompromising boulders, while two men follow them to clear the rope from obstructions. The ropes are made of bamboo, and look little qualified to stand the heavy strain of pulling the laden junks up the rapids. To these ropes the men are harnessed by short ropes, which they detach at pleasure. The trackers are often a quarter of a mile distant from the boat, for the river is very wide and winding in places, and frequently extra men have to be hired, augmenting their numbers up to one hundred or more for the worst rapids. Many a time a tracker has to dash into the swirling waters to free the rope, and his scanty clothing is flung off in the twinkling of an eye. Our red-boat was quite useful in taking the trackers on and off the shore, where the water was too shallow for us to go—and the red-boat men were friendly creatures, continually hovering round us night and day, ready for service. By means of little offerings of hot tea, &c., we soon got on the pleasantest terms, and often had little dumb-show conversations. These boats are very light, and have long narrow blue sails and blue-and-white striped awnings; the boat and military uniform are scarlet, so that they are readily distinguishable from all other craft on the river. Even their chopsticks are red: altogether they look extremely smart, and the boatmen are skilful and experienced men. Parcel-post boats have blue-and-white striped sails and a yellow sort of box in the centre of the boat to distinguish them. The letters do not go by water, but are carried by men overland.

There have been so many accidents on the river this season, owing to its fulness, that we determined to go ashore whenever we came to a rapid, and to take our luggage with us. We duly instructed the captain and also the red-boat men on the subject, but, to our surprise, on the third day we discovered that we had already come up one rapid, and before we knew it we were into a second. The fact is that the current is so strong, and the river altogether so tumultuous and vicious-looking, that to the uninitiated the rapids are not always different in appearance from the rest of the Yangtze, and most of the way through the gorges seems full of rapids. Getting round the sharp bends of the river is a difficult matter, and they frequently tie a rope from the boat round a boulder, while the trackers hold on to another fastened to the top of the mast, from which it can be lowered at will by means of a slip rope. The trackers strain every nerve, and frequently go on all-fours, and yet can’t budge an inch. Sometimes they are obliged to let go, and then the junk slips back in the swirl of water, to the great danger of any others that may be in the rear.

The fourth day after leaving Ichang we had a very narrow escape of this sort. I had been admonishing the captain about his stupidity in following close behind a heavy large junk, and told him we ought to have been in front of it, by starting a little earlier in the morning. He was surly, and complained that it would have been necessary to get up so very, very early; but he was soon brought to repentance by something much more unpleasant than my words. We were waiting our turn to get round a sharp corner, and were moored to the bank, so we had no means of escape when the big junk suddenly swooped down upon us. A horrible grinding, tearing, crashing sound ensued, accompanied by violent yells from the men; but we gasped with relief to see our walls still intact, though our windows were shivered and the shutters torn off. The damage done was quite small, but it delayed us several hours that day, and caused us to be at the end of a long string of boats for getting up the big rapid next day.

The Yeh Tan rapid (nicknamed Mutton Point by the prosaic foreigner) is one of the most dangerous, and we made great preparations in case of accident, packing up our things carefully in oiled paper—a most useful Chinese article, as it is a very cheap kind of waterproof. Our men made quite other preparations, which they firmly believed in. A quantity of special sacred paper was waved—burning—over the front of the boat; incense sticks were fixed up and lighted; finally a cock was killed, and its blood and feathers plentifully bespattered around. This was extremely distracting to me, as I was well embarked on a sketch when it took place under my very eyes. The subject of the sketch was quite characteristic—a beautiful rosy russet hillside, with a temple peeping out of the trees, and a long narrow line of village above the high-water mark of the river. On the shingly river-bed were temporary booths used as restaurants.

Finding ourselves tied to the bank for an indefinite time, we began to cook our lunch; but no sooner was the pot boiling than our red-boat men appeared saying they had got up the rapid (they were not obliged to wait their turn like ordinary boats), and were come to escort us on shore. We asked if our boat was allowed to take precedence of the big junks, and were told that it was; and as our trackers had already gone ashore, it lent colour to the fiction, and we started off cheerfully enough. The boatmen shouldered our suit-cases, which we were afraid to risk, as they contained not only clothes and sketches, but money in the shape of lumps of silver called “tings,” that were to last us for several weeks, and which weighed many pounds. It is really tiresome to have to carry money in this form and have it cut up and weighed in little bits, with which to buy the cash of the district, before you can purchase anything. In the more Europeanised East, Mexican dollars are used, also bank-notes; but from this time on we were obliged to use only the rough silver lumps and copper cash. Sometimes the reckoning was by taels and sometimes by dollars. The tael is an ounce of silver—namely, one and one-third English ounces—but there is no coin to represent the tael. The silver shoe is about fifty taels, but the taels vary in value at different places—the Peking tael is not the same, for instance, as the Hankow tael: altogether, the money system is hopelessly complicated. It made us feel, however, that we had got beyond the pale of civilisation, and we never attempted after this to do any purchasing ourselves, but were fortunate enough to be able to leave our money matters with perfect confidence in Mr. Ku’s hands. The result was that we did our journey much more economically than other similar travellers, and were saved all worry.

It may be of interest to the reader to see one of the latest Government edicts on the subject of the currency, and to know that it has decided in favour of a uniform tael, the value of which is fixed at the astonishing figure of 1549 cash. According to the reports of the governors of the eighteen provinces, there were eleven provinces in favour of the tael as against eight in favour of the dollar currency. As the tael has never existed in coin form, and dollars are largely used, there is much to be said in favour of the latter; but the Chinese stick tenaciously to their own peculiar belongings, and in all financial transactions with foreign countries the tael has been the term used in the past.

The following edict appeared in the Peking Gazette, October 5, 1908:

To return to our subject: we made our way along the shingly beach, covered with large loose boulders, past the meat-market, where goats stood ready to be converted into mutton “while you wait,” up to a broad platform of masonry, about twenty feet high, from which the trackers haul the boats up the rapid. They must have been certainly a quarter of a mile distant, and it takes about half-an-hour for some 60 or 100 men to get a heavy junk up the rapid—about 100 yards. We waited our turn from 7.30 A.M. till 5.30 P.M., and there were only thirteen boats ahead of us.

We found we had a short walk to the red-boat, but the men were so nice, and had rigged up the awning for us, and were so anxious that we should be comfortable and rest, that although we felt exasperated at having left our boat and our meal so unnecessarily early, we could not be angry with them. The red-boat was exquisitely clean, and the men clever, daring, and trustworthy: the captain was very tall, and had his head tied up because of a swelling, which made him look particularly interesting.

We sent Liu to procure provisions, as our last fowl had just been put in the pot, and he returned with three live ones (which appears to be the Chinese equivalent to a pair), price 2s. 3d. The fowls took French leave to dine on persimmons, which had been left within reach, casting a furtive glance at intervals to where the boy was sitting meditating on the bank. The day gradually wore away, and we were very tired with the deafening noise of drums, guns, crackers, and shouting, without which accompaniment the junks could not be towed up the rapid in safety! The men on board yell and wave their arms as if in frantic desperation to scare away the evil spirits. At last our turn came, and our boat rode triumphantly up the rapid by means of two towing-ropes in the space of ten minutes. Ten hours’ wait for a ten minutes’ job! China certainly needs patience. Our men evidently thought they had done enough for the day: they tied up to the bank, and were soon snugly snoring for the night. They lie like rows of sausages, so tightly packed that it hardly looks possible for one to turn in his sleep, unless they did like seven sisters whom I know. When they were young and the house was full, they slept in one capacious bed: when one got tired and wanted to turn over, she said “turn,” and all the seven had to turn together!

One of the men groaned heavily for some time, and then began to weep. This was too much for the others, who put an effectual stop to it, so that he groaned no more. In the morning I looked for the culprit, but no one looked particularly ill, as many are opium-smokers and always look a horrible dead colour.

The scenery grows grander and grander as you go up the gorges, and the vicious-looking tide grows more and more threatening. Passing wrecks from day to day is by no means reassuring, but when one sees the slender rope on which the weight of a heavily laden junk depends, the marvel seems that any escape being wrecked. To the traveller who enjoys a spice of danger and loves glorious scenery no trip could be more attractive than a journey up the Yangtze for a month or six weeks, and it is quite easy to go almost the length of the empire by it. The return journey is performed in a very short time, and is certainly not lacking in excitement; for the boats seem to fly past us, and all hands on board are needed to keep the junk at all head foremost; while steering is a work demanding the utmost coolness, strength, and intrepidity, for the river is full of hidden rocks. The change in the height of the water adds immensely to the danger and difficulty of navigation. For the journey downstream the masts are taken down, and on a large junk fifteen or more men are kept rowing as if for dear life; and even then the junk often threatens to be carried down sideways.

When there is a strong wind blowing it is wonderful to see how the boats go up-stream, despite the current, while the men sit down with beaming faces for a few minutes’ rest, or seize the opportunity to do a little washing. One merry fellow—the wag of the party—explained in pantomime that he wanted to see the soap with which we wash our hands, and was delighted when we gave him a little bit with which to wash a piece of cotton that he wraps round his head. They use very hot water but no soap for washing, and it is astonishing to see how clean they succeed in making their things. The tracker’s next bit of work was philanthropic to a degree! He carefully washed out his mouth, then filled it again with water and applied it to a gathering on the sole of the foot of another man, and began to draw out the pus. I put a stop to it, however, and attended to the foot in a more Western manner. This was the beginning of my looking after the various sores of our party, and from this time on I rarely lacked patients. It soon became rather ludicrous, for any one who got a scratched finger seemed to think it required my attention, and I much regretted not having supplied myself with a dresser’s case and a few simple requisites. Directly the man had had his foot attended to, he had to go on shore to track, with nothing but a straw sandal to protect the foot from stones and dirt. The endurance of the men is extraordinary, but happily they are insensitive to pain. A few days later a man came to me with a dreadful foot, swelled to almost double its proper size, and it was with great difficulty that I got the captain to allow him to stay on the boat instead of tracking (for one day), as he would have forfeited his wages for the whole trip if he were unable to fulfil his duty on a single occasion.

At intervals we passed small hamlets, and boats came alongside with various eatables, or charcoal, for sale. Half a pig was eyed most longingly by the men, and eventually they secured the head for a ridiculously small number of cash—exactly how many farthings they paid I could not see. Five pomeloes were to be had for one farthing apiece, and the cook was glad to get a fresh supply of charcoal. He spends the livelong day in his well—I do not know how else to describe it—with only his head and shoulders above the level of the deck. Close at hand is the drum on which it is his duty to beat instructions to the trackers when they are ashore. He is a most attractive subject for sketching, but is never still a moment except when he takes a nap, and then his head also disappears into the well, and he curls up, so that only his toes are visible. In my little sketch of him enjoying the fruits of his labour his long nails look like talons, and this is invariably the case when the nails are allowed to grow long: they are singularly repulsive, and the long silver nail-sheaths used by the gentry to conceal them are to be commended.

The days on the river slipped by very quickly, as there is always something fresh to watch, and if not rapids to go up every day, at all events there are difficult bits of navigation, and a certain anxiety attends the rounding of corners, when the current twists round with a threatening snarl. The picturesque villages make one long to stop and sketch, but one has to be content instead to try and jot down notes while passing alongside them. The accompanying sketch shows a typical one: the red flag was in honour of a royal birthday. A similar village is Kweichow (Hupeh), quite near the big town of Kweichow Fu (Szechwan). It lies along the high bank, and the lofty city wall extends in a sort of wide semi-circle up the bank above it, enclosing quite a large space of cultivated ground on the upper side of the town. The gates are closed at night, and no one can go in or out after the keys have been carried to the magistrate’s yamen.

On the ninth day after leaving Ichang we came to a village which in the distance we took to be on fire, owing to the dense clouds of smoke rising from it. It proved, however, to be one of the famous salt-springs, and had only emerged from the river-bed about a week earlier, owing to the fall of the water. The people had at once set to work erecting huts alongside it, and preparing the salt for use; and they live there till the spring, when the rise of the river drives them up the bank again. These salt-springs are one of the most valuable products of the province, but the principal ones are nearer the centre of Szechwan, and they are all a Government monopoly. Dr. Macgowan states—as an illustration of the extraordinary patient perseverance of the Chinaman—that it takes forty years in some cases to bore a salt-well.

Close to this village is the picturesque city of Kweichow Fu, extending some distance along the river-bank, with temples and palaces, and a Union Jack flying over a mission-house, which rises high above the city wall. The steep slope below it, from which the river had so recently subsided, was already ploughed ready for a crop of corn. The Chinese seem always on the watch to use every inch of ground available for cultivation: they never seem to lose an opportunity, or to grudge any amount of trouble. We climbed up the bank and a flight of steps, leading through a lofty gateway into the town. The streets were narrow and dirty, and thronged with people; but we turned aside to the attractive Union Jack, where we met with a warm welcome, even before we announced that we were bringing up belated stores from down the river. We set out almost immediately to visit an interesting palace, belonging to an Earl who had become famous during the Taiping war—a case of “la carrière ouverte aux talents.” The façade and walls of the palace were curiously decorated with mosaic, formed from broken bits of pottery. There are shops for the purchase and sale of broken china and earthenware for this express purpose.

On entering the courtyard we saw handsome square gilt tablets—the gift of the Emperor to the late Earl—which were set up corner-wise over the entrance to an inner courtyard. At the farther end of this second court was a sort of reception-room, entirely open in front, containing chairs and tables and other beautiful furniture from Canton, a series of family portraits, and an ancestral tablet, with incense sticks burning in front of it. On either side of this room were doors leading into the living-rooms of the family. We wandered through side courts into the spacious garden, laid out in true Chinese style, with little stucco fountains and pools and streams, and many summer-houses, all furnished with couches for the guests attending opium-smoking parties. There were many kinds of shrubs and trees, some brought from long distances; also pomelo and orange trees laden with fruit. A beautiful oblong tank was full of lotos plants, and had a tiny boat on it; but over everything brooded the sadness of decay and the memory of a departed glory.

As we stood talking to the brilliantly dressed daughters of the house, a young cousin came in, who spoke excellent English, having been trained at St. John’s College, Shanghai, and he proved to be a friend of Mr. Ku’s. He offered to take us round to his father’s palace, which was close by. It is built on exactly the same plan, and was in every way similar to the other; but we noticed one curious object in the reception-room—a large rough stone behind a screen under the ancestral tablet. This, he told us, was a stone used for divination in time of war, and above it was a most curious diagram hanging on the wall, representing men riding on tigers (= soldiers). There was also a scroll hanging on the opposite wall, given to the family by the Emperor after the death of the young man’s father, recording the eminent deeds which he had performed. Among the curios which he showed us were some wooden ornaments formed out of little shrubs, which had been trained to grow into peculiar shapes, such as a lion, an old man, &c.; these are particularly admired by the Chinese. Some parts of the decorations were quite charming in colour and in design, as for instance the double doors, decorated with golden bats on a dark-green background, and the gargoyles, formed like fishes, carved in stone. Altogether it was a fascinating place and a worthy setting to the courtly gentleman, who entertained us hospitably and took us round with his son. Unfortunately, his English was almost as limited as our Chinese. I should have very much liked to do his portrait, but dusk was coming on and we were leaving early next morning.

Two rather dreary days succeeded, as there was a west wind blowing, which took all the colour out of the landscape, just as an east wind does at home, and at the same time it added colour to one’s temper. There is really much sense in the old French law, which prescribed special leniency of judgment in the case of murder and suicide committed when the mistral was blowing. Sketching was out of the question, and the poor trackers had a hard time—no rest all day long, for the wind was blowing dead in our teeth. We laboriously won our way up some small rapids, but nothing important was gained and we travelled very slowly.

The last rapid before Wanhsien is the worst, and as usual we got out, despite the reassuring news that, owing to the considerable fall in the level of the water, we should have an easy ascent. Our luggage was hastily transferred to the red-boat—as we imagined, to be taken ashore as usual—and we then landed, to allow our boat to start at once, for there were no other boats waiting ahead of us. The red-boat men, however, got some of our men to help them, and started first. We stood on a rock watching her come bravely through the flood, and were in the very act of photographing her, when she seemed to stagger, the men gave a great shout, dropped the towing-rope, the water dashed over her, and she was whirled down the stream like an utterly helpless log. We were horrified to see her carried down and out of sight round a bend, and the thought of our luggage added not a little, I must admit, to our dismay. It was some time before the two men on board succeeded in getting her to the bank, for the large steering-oar in front had snapped, which was the cause of the disaster. Hence the shout to the men to loose the towing-rope, or she would have gone on the rocks. About an hour later the men came back to us, carrying our luggage, which was none the worse for the wetting; but they told us it would be impossible for them to accompany us any farther, as it would take some time to repair the damage. We regretfully took leave of them, as the men had quite endeared themselves to us by the kindness and courtesy with which they were always on the alert to render us small services. Only the night previous our men were noisy and quarrelsome, and I was obliged to remonstrate sharply. At once the red-boat captain came to my assistance, and restored peace instantaneously. I wrote a note of thanks to the general at Ichang for the captain to give him, with our visiting-cards, when he reported himself on his arrival. I also gave visiting-cards to the captain for himself, as nothing seems to please a Chinaman more than this small courtesy, together with a lump of silver to be divided with his crew, and he received them with a beaming smile and a military salute.

After the accident we strolled along the bank for some distance, waiting for our junk to come up, and were much amused by inspecting a river-bank village. The whole of it is built of the most flimsy materials, and put together so lightly that it can be taken down and moved to another spot at the shortest possible notice, according to the height of the river. Even the god’s shrine is thoroughly perambulatory, and is dedicated to the god of the earth. Many of the shanties are lofty erections, but the walls and roofs consist entirely of mats hung on to poles, which are merely tied together and stuck into the ground. There was quite a good village street, containing a barber’s shop, a butcher’s, a draper’s (where most attractive wadded quilts made quite a goodly show), a chemist’s, greengrocer’s, &c.

There were several delightful restaurants, with pretty bowls and natty cooking arrangements, which made us long to purchase and experiment with them instead of using our primitive stove, where my bread refused to rise, though I never failed with it at home. So far, it can only be considered successful for making poultices, but we eat a little of it daily, as there is no sort of bread which we should find palatable in this part of the empire. The counters of the restaurants had many tempting dainties displayed upon them, especially tiny saucers full of relishes; among them we saw several Escoffier sauce bottles, but no doubt the original contents had disappeared long ago!

The women of the place seemed nice and friendly and clean, and were dressed in the gayest colours of the rainbow; green, scarlet, blue, and black was quite an ordinary combination on one person. They wear tight wadded trousers to just below the knee, and from there to the ankle the leg is neatly bound. Often the legs are very thin, and look like sticks, while the out-turned tiny feet and stiff knees all combine to give the appearance of goats’ legs. While I was sketching the little shrine one came and stood beside it, with a very evident desire to be included in the sketch. I at once took advantage of this unusual occurrence—they generally flee directly they see I am doing them—but as the spectators laughed at her, she kept folding her arms across her face. She had a large basket on her back, and many women carry their babies in this way.

As one gets farther west the climate changes—growing milder—and the vegetation is different. Beautiful groups of bamboos are frequently seen, and crops of sugar-cane in patches of vivid green suggest the month of May rather than December. You reach the native home of oranges, and they seem to have a better flavour than anywhere else.

Mr. Ku came to me with a long face one day, to say that he had been told that the natives of Szechwan were barbarians, “and do you not think that Liu and I had better wear suits of uniform?” We had no hesitation as to the answer—a decided veto, having already discussed the question of carrying firearms, many of our friends having strongly urged us to do it. I am more than ever convinced that it is apt to lead to trouble, rather than avert it, and that it is safer to have none, especially when you have not been thoroughly trained in the use of them. My friend suggested that if you shot one Chinaman there would be ten to kill you, and a smile would be at least as efficacious as a revolver.

The last part of our river journey was rather disturbing, owing to our twice dashing upon the rocks; but happily no serious damage was done, and we had an excellent opportunity of seeing how these people set about repairs. The water was coming in rather fast under the floor of our cabin, so the carpenter took up the boards, baled out the superfluous water, and stuffed the hole with cotton wadding, which he extracted from his winter coat. This he adjusted neatly in the hole by means of his chopstick, and finally put a plaster over it, composed of the sole of an old shoe, which he tore up for the purpose, and nailed it over the spot. A good deal of baling had to be done, and no sooner was order restored in the cabin than we had a second collision, and the flooring had to be taken up again to see if there was any fresh mischief. Happily there was none.

Two sets of our friends have each been wrecked three times this season on their way up the river, and on one occasion the boat broke completely in half. Every one hastened to save what they could, except a Chinaman, who was observed busily washing his clothes with the soap that was oozing out of one of the cases of stores! No goods are worth insuring on the Yangtze, as the insurance rates are so high, and it is so difficult—often impossible—to prove what has been lost. In the case when the boat was a total wreck, our friends were obliged to encamp for a week on the river-bank in a hut which they constructed out of their stores and luggage, with the sail of the boat spread over the top by way of roof—a somewhat ineffectual one when the rain came pouring down.

The river-banks are studded with temples, pagodas, and shrines, and the people in this part of the country are far more assiduous in their worship than anywhere else: we continually noticed them offering incense or paper money to the gods. The temples are less interesting than in the north, and ugly in colour, mostly a cold grey ornamented with black and white, and they are also less artistic architecturally.

On the fourteenth day we reached Wanhsien, whence we had decided to travel overland, though we were sorry to miss seeing the celebrated salt-wells, which we should have passed if we had taken the other more frequented route to Chengtu. We regretfully said good-bye to our boatmen, and made the eighteen men thoroughly happy and content with a gratuity of 7s. to be divided amongst them. We notice that the Chinese always seem more pleased and satisfied when they get the usual tip than when they get more. Wanhsien looked doubly attractive to us from the fact that we saw a British gunboat lying on the farther side of the river, but in itself the town is eminently picturesque, though dirty. A camel-back bridge, spanning a stream just before it entered the Yangtze, was perhaps the prettiest bit of all. Below it were endless yards of cotton hanging out to dry, after being dyed. This was a sight with which we soon became familiar, passing through many a village where the main street was draped in this way.