The approach to Yünnan Fu is really lovely, and pagodas and tall temples surmounting the walls give it an imposing air. It is much the most important city in the province, and is following hard in the wake of Chengtu in the matter of progress. As regards improvements, new schools, barracks, a mint, and a railway station have sprung up within the last few years, not to mention street lamps and foreign-looking police, a French hospital and a French post-office. The French have been gradually pushing their way here, but not altogether successfully. The railway station exists, but no railway. According to the contract it ought to have been already completed, but owing to the extreme unhealthiness of the districts through which it passes a great many of the engineers have either died or been incapacitated for work, so that the railway is not likely to be completed for several years to come. In fact, they can only work on it at certain times of the year, in consequence of malaria. The French post-office also exists, but has been shut by order of the authorities, and the relations between French and Chinese authorities are decidedly strained. The presence of the French in the city has sent up the price of everything. In fact, many ordinary commodities are double the price they were a few years ago.

We were much disappointed to find nearly all the shops closed, owing to its being the Chinese New Year, but we managed to find a few small things of interest to buy. What particularly charmed us was a set of painted scrolls. There was a whole series of different designs of birds, some of them beautifully coloured, which we bought for the modest sum of 10s. for the set of eight. Throughout China scrolls are hung on the walls for decorative purposes as we use pictures, and sometimes you find quite charming designs either hung up or painted on the walls of unpretentious inns. When we were in the main street standing chatting together at a short distance from our host, who was making a bargain for us, a woman came along and eyed us up and down attentively. She then began to speak to us, and although we did not understand anything she said, the subject was very obvious, as she pointed at her own waist (or rather the place where it should be visible) and then at ours, after which she made a small circle with her fingers and said, pointing at us, “Very pretty.” Who would have dreamt that such a thing could have happened in China, where a visible waist is considered so extremely improper!

We found the most amusing time to be in the streets, however, was in the evening, when there were nightly exhibitions of Chinese lanterns, as ingenious as they are effective. A tiny lady’s shoe made of coloured paper, with half an egg-shell for the heel and a few drops of oil to hold the floating wick in it, makes a charming little lantern. Large fishes with movable heads and tails look extremely pretty, and grotesque lions are made to promenade above the heads of passengers with life-like palpitations. Their eyes are also made of egg-shells, which were effectively used in many other lanterns also. Some of the more elaborate lanterns were hung outside the shops; others were for sale. For a few “cash” you can get little toy theatres, within which the warmth of the candle sets in motion revolving figures whose shadows are thrown on the front of the stage. There was an infinite variety of lanterns exhibited, and we much regretted that they were too flimsy to carry home; for they are all made on the lightest bamboo frames with thin coloured paper. Later on we saw the most interesting of all the lanterns, a large dragon which is many yards in length and of which the sections are carried by men; but as there had been considerable disturbances lately when this had been carried about the city, the authorities refused to allow it for the time being. It is at the time when people are holiday-making that they seem difficult to manage, but their vices are not such as to make them troublesome to travellers. Opium-smoking and gambling are certainly the worst of these vices, and they are the curse of this place.

Yünnan is surrounded by pretty places for excursions, so we set off one fine morning in our chairs to visit a metal temple about five miles distant, called “Gin Tien”—namely, “Golden Temple.” As we passed through the sweet-scented bean-fields we saw many children enjoying swings, a sight we had not met before in any other part of the country. Soon we reached the foot of the hills and ascended through woods filled with a delicious aromatic scent; but the trees were quite unfamiliar to us, and whether it was from them or the brushwood that the scent came we could not determine. The temple was beautifully situated on the hillside, and the courts rose one above the other, with long flights of steps leading from one to another. At the top of the first flight was an archway surmounted by a temple containing a small wooden “god of literature.” The design on the cover of “The Face of China” is the god of literature: in one hand he holds the brush and in the other a tablet, and he stands on one foot on a fish. Doolittle explains it thus: “There are two stars which the Chinese profess to have discovered to have the supervision of the affairs of this world relating to ‘literature and the pencil.’ One of these, Kue Sing, is said to be the fifteenth star of the twenty-eighth constellation, answering to parts of Andromeda and Pisces.”

A miscellaneous collection of gods lined the sides of the court in open corridors, but they were much neglected and in a ruinous-looking condition. At the top of the steps was a terrace on which was a fine camellia tree in full bloom, and other shrubs, while chattering groups of white-and-black starlings lent animation to the scene. Another flight of steps led to a court in which was the fine copper temple, painted black and gold, standing on a platform made of the celebrated Tali marble. A metal flag and bells that tinkled in the wind hung from an adjoining flagstaff, and another camellia tree was a sheet of pink blossom standing in glorious contrast behind the temple close to a gateway. This gateway led into another courtyard, where there were rooms which could be hired by any one who wishes to spend a few days there. Europeans often make use of these hill temples in the hot weather, even inhabiting sometimes the same rooms as the gods, of whom a new use is made as pegs on which to hang clothes in lieu of wardrobes—a proceeding which in nowise shocks the Chinese worshippers.

We were by no means the only visitors to the temples. There was quite an array of chairs waiting in the courtyards. Some of the people were gambling, others having their midday meal, others lying on couches smoking opium or admiring the view; but of worship there was no sign whatever. While I sketched some women came to look on, and had a little conversation (strictly limited, owing to my ignorance). They carried beautiful orchids which they said they had gathered in the mountains. In fact, Gin Tien is to Yünnan Fu what Richmond is to London.

Another interesting excursion which we made was to the Rock Temples above the lake of Yünnan. There is a canal, about two miles long, leading directly from the city to the lake, and our host sent to hire a boat the day previous to our excursion. The arrangement made was that we were to have a crew of four men, in order to convey us as rapidly as possible to our destination; but when we got on board we found that our four men were represented by a woman and her three boys, aged approximately sixteen, ten, and three. We remonstrated, but it was so comic that we could do nothing but laugh; and finally she hired a man to come and row, paying him about twopence a day, whereas we paid her five shillings. Arrived at the farther side, we had a steep climb through pine woods to the temples, which are impartially Buddhist and Taoist. They must have been hewn out of the cliffs with an immense amount of labour and cost, for the approach to the upper ones was through winding galleries cut in the solid rock. The gods themselves are in shrines cut in the rock, and at the top of all is a little temple dedicated to the “god of literature,” which was also carved out of stone; and there were other gods carved above the entrance. From the little platform in front of it there is a marvellous view of the lake and plain stretched far below, where fishing-boats looked like insects, and over which floated the shadows of the clouds.

On our way down our servant had prepared tea at a Buddhist temple, where we sat on stools (on a platform) at a low table. At an adjoining table there was a large family party of men and boys also having a meal, the ladies and girls of the family taking theirs in an inner room. We could not help admiring the charming sets of baskets in which they had brought their provisions, and we found them very friendly and talkative. They had many questions to ask of us, and informed us that they were jewellers in the city, finally suggesting that we should all go home together! We felt that this would be far too slow a process when we saw the ladies with their tiny feet laboriously toiling downwards, with the help of walking-sticks to steady them. So we made our excuses and hastened back, as the sun was already getting low.

We dedicated our last day at Yünnan to shopping, for the shops were beginning to reopen after their long inaction for the New Year. This place was in former times a happy hunting-ground for bronzes, but there are not many to be had now, and none of any value, while all the prices have gone up, many of them a hundred per cent. Copper work is the special industry of Yünnan, though all the copper is supposed to go direct to Peking. There are two families who for many generations have had the monopoly of making beautiful little copper boxes inlaid with silver. The work is very fine, and some of the designs are particularly attractive. Skin boxes are a speciality of this place, and we found it necessary to get some in which to carry our purchases; we also added a coolie to our party, as the loads carried here are not allowed to exceed eighty pounds per man. If we could fly, how quickly should we reach Bhamo!—only 360 miles through the air, instead of 967 miles by the road, with a total ascent of 26,000 feet. This is a computation in Hosie’s book, “Three Years in Western China,” but I think the distances are decidedly over-estimated. When we left Yünnan Fu our party numbered twenty-four, and our chairs looked much more dignified than on arrival. The poles were all carefully bandaged with bright-blue cotton like a mandarin’s chair, because of the winds, as our head coolie informed us that otherwise the poles were apt to crack. We were told to expect high winds all the rest of our journey through this province, for they are prevalent at this time of year. The prospect sounded discouraging, for the sun was hot, and we were obliged to wear large hoods, as the sun and the wind together had nearly skinned our faces. However, like all our previous information about the journey, the difficulties proved much less serious than we expected. In fact, so far we had had nothing to complain of beyond the inevitable disagreeables one encounters on travelling away from the beaten track. As we left the city we noticed a curious mingling of the past and present at the city gate: on the one side a dismantled cannon made by, or under the direction of, the French Jesuit Fathers, and stamped with the Christian symbol; on the other side of the gate, a notice-board warning passengers to keep to the right side of the road.

Leaving the city, we soon reached the mountains, and day by day skirted the upper part of them; sometimes plunging down deep into the valleys, especially for our resting-places at night. The people seem a sturdy, solid race, but through the greater part of the province which we have traversed, and especially round the capital, they are greatly disfigured by goitre. Every day we see scores of people (even quite young children) suffering from this disease. The women do a large share of all the hard work, carrying heavy loads, despite their small feet; the loads are fastened on by broad bands passed round the forehead, like those of Newhaven fishwives. These bands are frequently run through holes in a big wooden collar worn both by men and women. Some of these collars have pretty little bits of carving on them.

On the roads we met innumerable droves of pack-animals, mostly laden with blocks of salt. The pack-men have special inns where they put up, which are nothing more than stables, and scores of animals can be accommodated in them. Despite the badness of the roads and the rough way in which they are hustled along, we have not seen a single beast with broken knees. They are allowed to rest free from loads or saddles at midday, and to roll in the dust at pleasure. The loads are fastened on to a framework which fits into the saddle and so avoids the necessity of being adjusted on the animal itself. There are regular camping grounds for the pack-animals all along the road, and they seem the best tempered beasts imaginable. The leaders usually wear bright red rosettes on their heads, often with mirrors in them, and also the Government loads have brilliant flags attached, which give them a picturesque look. Some of them wear the long tails of the Amherst pheasant fastened between their ears, and look as proud of themselves as a fashionable London lady with the huge plumes now in fashion. Some of them wear bells, which are necessary so as to herald their approach on these narrow, winding, and precipitous highways.

Every day we were more enchanted with the beauty of the country and the delights of spring. The banks are carpeted with primulas, and the hill slopes bright with rose-coloured camellias, scarlet azalea, white and crimson rhododendrons, yellow jessamine, clematis, begonias, and numberless flowering shrubs, many of which we have never seen before. This is the part of the world from which the majority of our flowering shrubs have originally come. It would be a paradise for botanists, and makes one long for more knowledge of many subjects, so as to be able to enjoy the journey still more and profit by it more thoroughly.

The second day after leaving Yünnan Fu, there was an earthquake, and it is a mystery why the front of our room did not entirely collapse. The inns here are really superior, but on this occasion the outer wall of our room happened to be constructed in sections at all sorts of angles, none of them what they were meant to be, and with extensive gaps between. It was quite impossible to shut the doors, and there was no pretence of a fastening, so we had put up a curtain in order to obtain a small measure of privacy. Happily, the people did not seem so inquisitive as they used to be when I was travelling in China fifteen years ago. In fact, we rarely see eyes peering through holes in the paper windows. Glass windows are still unknown in the inns, except in an occasional one in Shantung.

At Lu Feng Hsien we had an amusing experience. As we were resting after our evening meal there was suddenly a great noise of drums, and we were told that the dragon lantern was in the street. It turned out to be a sort of entertainment given by a cash shop next door, and not only was there a very bedraggled-looking dragon about twenty feet long, but also fish lanterns and sundry fireworks. The men carrying the sections of the dragon leapt about like demons as the shower of “golden rain” (fireworks) was turned full upon them, and the dragon withed with unwonted energy. The drums never ceased for a moment, so that it was rather a relief when the show came to an end by the exhaustion of the internal illumination of the dragon. We were stopping at an inn just outside the city wall, and when we left the next morning we crossed a fine suspension-bridge with an imposing archway at each end of it. The chief magistrate of the district happened to be travelling on the same road with us, and sent word ahead that we were to be accommodated in a charming inn that day, having invited us to stop at his Yamen in the city the previous night. When magistrates are travelling they always send to engage an inn beforehand, and a little official flag is then hung outside to show that the inn is full. Mr. Ku suggested that we should go in for an official flag, but we feared lest complications should arise.

The fresh New Year mottoes put up on the doorposts of our room stated encouragingly that “all cultured people inhabit this room,” and “the courtyard is full of chairs and carts,” but, true to Chinese incongruity, our coolies filled one of the rooms and the pigs occupied the background!

Day after day new flowers and birds appear on our pathway—white camellias, daphne, dog-roses, a flight of brilliant green parrots, long-tailed tits, seagulls; though what they are doing out here we cannot imagine. At one village where we spent a night the magistrate sent word that the people were in a somewhat disturbed condition, so he would send a special watch to guard us. We strolled out into the fields to try and get a sketch of the large flocks of cranes feeding in the rice and bean fields, but they seemed disturbed and would not let us get anywhere near them, flying away screeching loudly. As we got back to the village everything looked as peaceful as possible, and the guard had duly arrived. They seemed to think it part of their duty to share our room, one settling down to a comfortable smoke, the other helping to shell the beans for our evening meal. When we thought they had sufficiently studied us and our surroundings we invited them to go outside, and they soon had a cheerful fire blazing in the courtyard, where they remained all night. We got infinite amusement out of the naïve ways of our coolies and the soldiers. A heavy storm of rain, for instance, came on while we were halting at a village, and immediately one of my carriers came and sat upon the ground beside my chair in order to share the benefit of my umbrella. He had not the slightest idea, of course, that I might not wish for his close neighbourhood, for fear of participating in more than the shelter of an umbrella.

One thing seems strange as one travels day by day from one end of this great empire to the other, and that is the utter absence of any landed gentry; never a country seat or any house larger than a farmer’s, and never a garden of any kind for the cultivation of flowers except within the cities; cottage gardens are unknown here. Pots in a courtyard show a certain love of flowers, and the poorest coolie will stop to gather a handful of camellias to decorate his load, or a flower to stick behind his ear. Rich people all love to live in big towns, where they are close to their associates.

One day the head coolie came in with our suit-cases in a state of great agitation, dragging with him a frightened-looking creature whose horse he said had pushed the luggage into the stream. To our dismay, the luggage was dripping with water, and the culprit had been hauled along to see the extent of the damage. Our usual good luck, however, had followed us; though a new silk dressing-gown was soaked with mud and water, my sketches (next to it) had only mud traces on their backs, and nothing else was hurt. The man said he was very sorry, and evidently expected we should charge damages. He protested that he was only a poor farmer and had no means of payment. No doubt the head coolie, who is responsible for any loss and is bound to make good any breakage caused by the carelessness of the carriers, would have extorted damages from him, but as we did not, he told him to kotow; our servants sternly repeated the command, and an interested crowd of spectators watching the show added their injunctions, so that when the man grovelled in the dust and knocked his forehead on the ground, we were sorely tempted to laugh. The tragi-comic effect was irresistibly funny. It was necessary, however, to impress our men with the heinousness of the offence, lest our curios should come into greater danger. A diversion was caused by the entrance of several coolies begging me to look at their sprains, gatherings, &c., so we dismissed the poor farmer and set to work with our out-patient department. At this stage of the journey the coolies were very apt to give out a little, as the strain began to tell upon them. The weather grew warmer daily, and the crops seemed almost to grow visibly before our eyes. Fields of mustard in the plains were dazzlingly yellow and sweet-scented, and the poppies and wild roses were coming into bloom. We were struck with the beauty of various kinds of wild vines and the enormous leaves of Senecio wilsonianus. There are a great many varieties of these vines and of the roses, and on the eastern side of Yünnan we found particularly sweet-scented white banksia roses. Mr. Wilson, who spent a considerable time in studying the flora of China, discovered no fewer than 2000 new varieties of plants, and Messrs. Veitch of Chelsea have a most interesting collection of the plants which he brought back. The fact that he was able to bring back over 5000 specimens seems almost incredible to any one who knows the difficulties of transport. But perhaps the most striking of all the flowers that we met growing profusely in this region was the Jasminum primulinum, a large, brilliant jasmine of which there were the most magnificent hedges. If only we could have stayed a little longer we should have been able to see far more of the shrubs in blossom, as everywhere we noticed they were full of promise.

The architecture is more ornate in this district than in the centre of China, many of the houses in the villages being elaborately decorated, and having beautiful wooden carved screens and balustrades in front of them. Some of the shops had most knowing little beasts carved at the end of the counter, and the signboards, which were formed into Chinese lanterns, were extremely picturesque. At the entrance of one of the villages there was the most grotesque design on the large screen which is frequently to be seen facing the entrance gate of villages. This particular one had a gigantic creature (a cross between a cat and a toad) hanging on to a fleeing mouse, whose hind leg had been stretched out to an abnormal length in its endeavour to escape. Every village of any size has such a screen (called in Chinese, “shelter”), standing about fifteen feet high and twenty-five feet in length. Some of the designs on them are really artistic, but as a rule their best quality is the spirited action of the various beasts which are represented, of which the one I have sketched (from memory) is a good example. The chair below it shows what we travelled in for some 1200 miles; the most comfortable way of seeing the country that can be imagined. Under the seat we carried all our small impedimenta, while the coolies made use of the back for theirs.