I don’t think I was ever in a place where it was more difficult to sketch out in the open than Peking. I tried it on several occasions, and nearly always had to abandon my intention, for almost immediately I produced my sketch-book, and before even I had time to commence operations, I would be absolutely hemmed in on all sides by a dense crowd of dirty insolent rascals, who, as a rule, seemed far more interested in me than in what I was sketching. It was absolutely useless getting my “boy” to ask them civilly to move on one side, as this only appeared to cause greater amusement among them, and, of course, it would have been absolute madness to lose one’s temper, so I generally gave in, and beat a retreat. Naturally there were a few quiet spots where one could work undisturbed, such as on the city walls, but the coup d’œil one got from such an elevated position was not to be compared with that in the midst of the busy throngs. As ill luck would have it, I had run short of photographic films, so my Kodak was useless.

There was so much to see in the various quarters of Peking that one could spend hours simply roaming about looking at the shops, or rather open booths. The Chinese city was far and away the most interesting. Its narrow streets, which were darkened by the immense number of sign-boards hanging overhead, resembled an immense bazaar where everything conceivable almost could be purchased. The “curio-hunting” fever came over me like it does over all new-comers to the Far East, and many were the good bargains I imagined I had made, although, doubtless, I shall find that most of the things could have been bought cheaper in London.

Of course I did the “lions” as completely as possible, and visited the theatres and the opium dens, and saw enough temples and monuments to last me for many years, and witnessed scenes which made it hard to realize that all these relics of the barbarism of the Middle Ages were within touch of the civilization of the nineteenth century. Still, I could not help coming to the same conclusion as Sir Mackenzie Wallace, and thoroughly agree with him that “sight-seeing is the weariness of the flesh;” so at last I made up my mind to bid adieu to all my hospitable friends and make another move on my homeward journey, for I still had many weary miles to traverse before I reached Old England again.

There are two ways of getting to Tientsin, the port of Peking, where one embarks for Shanghai—either in what is known as a Peking cart, or by house-boat. Having already had some not altogether delightful experiences of these native carts, it did not take me long to decide which mode of conveyance to use, and although I learnt that the river route was considerably longer I settled at once to go by it.

As luck would have it, just as I had made all my arrangements to start, I managed to find a very genial companion for the journey in Mr. Savage Landor, a traveller and roving artist, whose acquaintance I had made whilst in Peking. This gentleman, who had just returned from Japan, was on his way to Australia, so we arranged to go as far as Shanghai together. Travelling in company is undoubtedly more pleasant than alone, more especially if one’s companion has tastes at all in sympathy with one’s own, and in this particular instance it was especially so, for the three days’ uneventful journey to Tientsin passed away very agreeably. We had taken the precaution of providing ourselves with a “boy” to act as servant and cook; and a very excellent chef did he make, the little dinners he gave us being quite works of art in their way, considering his limited culinary arrangements. Il va sans dire that we had stocked our larder before starting with a plentiful supply of delicacies, as we had been informed that nothing except nameless Chinese abominations could be purchased en route.

The house-boat, which we had previously secured, was lying in the river Peiho at Tungchow, the nearest point to Peking, and to reach it we had a six hours’ journey before us down the canal, in a small open boat. Our baggage we sent on ahead of us by cart.

It was on an absolutely perfect day in June, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky, that I bid a fond (and I hope last) farewell to dirty Peking, and started on the final stage of my journey towards the Yellow Sea. After a not unpleasant, though somewhat tedious journey down the canal, we eventually reached Tungchow, and went on board the “yacht,” where we found that Joe, our boy, had got quite a nice little supper ready for us.

A Chinese native house-boat, though undoubtedly admirably adapted for its purposes, is certainly not what one would term a luxurious craft, nor one in which I should care to linger longer than was absolutely necessary. It is a very long vessel, partially decked over, with the saloon amidships, the galley aft, and the men’s quarters “up for’ard.” Its rig consists of one mast, with the usual Chinese picturesque mat-sail. The crew is usually composed of five men and the master.

Although perhaps not scrupulously clean, the cabin, by candlelight at any rate, looked all right, and for a wonder did not smell over-stuffy, as such places usually do; so as we sat down to supper we congratulated ourselves on at least having decent quarters for the next two days. While we were eating our meal, talking of one thing and another, I happened to remark that we were doubtless fortunate in getting this particular house-boat, for I had heard that as a rule these craft simply swarmed with vermin of all sorts, whereas this one seemed absolutely free from them, as I had not detected any sign of “life” about the place. The words were scarcely out of my mouth when I noticed Landor, who was seated opposite me, smile and look at the wall behind me. I glanced round, when to my horror I saw coming towards us what looked like a long procession of positively the biggest blackbeetles and cockroaches I ever set eyes on, and which, doubtless attracted by the food, were making for the table. I have such a natural loathing of these filthy creatures that I cleared out on to the deck in no time, and, as may be imagined, my supper was abruptly ended. We then discovered that the saloon was simply infested with all sorts of playful creatures, which, though perhaps presenting some interest to the entymological student, certainly offered no attraction from an artistic point of view. I decided without much hesitation that sleeping on deck in the open air under the canopy of the stars would be preferable to an unconditional surrender of my person during the dark hours to this watchful enemy; so when “sweet slumber beckoned us to her arms,” I betook myself to a downy couch, consisting of an old sail thrown over two packing cases on the fore-deck, whilst Landor, relying on the merits of Keating’s powder, retired to the sleeping-apartment of the cabin, and barricaded himself inside quite a magic circle of “vermin-killer.”

These trivial discomforts did not, however, interfere with our enjoyment of the trip and the novel scenes around us, for from the time we left Tungchow till we reached Tientsin the winding river was one continuous and ever-changing panorama of life and movement. I don’t think I ever before saw such an immense number of boats on any river as we passed during that journey, all apparently of the same size and pattern, and as usual positively crowded with human beings. As far as the eye could see on either side, owing to the flatness of the scenery and the many turns in the river, the country seemed absolutely planted, so to speak, with huge mat sails, and the effect was indescribably strange. All this, added to the teeming crowds at work in the fields, presented a scene of population the like of which I imagine could not be witnessed anywhere but in China.

We reached the last village before Tientsin too late for the boat to be able to proceed that evening, as the river, we learnt, was closed after a certain hour; so, rather than spend another night on board when so close to a decent hotel, we decided to leave the boy in charge of our belongings, with instructions to bring them on the first thing in the morning, and to go across country to the town in some conveyance. With some difficulty two jinrickshas were procured, and with two boys in the shafts of each, we started off at a good pace for our goal. This was my first experience of these convenient little carriages with their apparently indefatigable human steeds in the shafts, and very pleasant did I find the motion, more especially with the recollection of my recent travels fresh in my memory.

We had about six miles to go, and the whole way the two boys went at a quick run, only stopping once or twice to change places between the shafts. Gradually the native houses on either side of the broad road began to get more numerous. On the horizon in front I could make out that indefinable sort of glare which by night seems to hang over all large towns, whilst, as though to assure me that my long journey was at length over, the distant sound of the whistle, of some large steamer in the river came wafted to my ears on the calm evening air; and when shortly after I found myself passing through fine well-arranged avenues and streets lighted by gas, I felt this really was the end of my discomforts, the fact of our finding excellent accommodation and a most obliging landlord at the Globe Hotel, where we put up, helping not a little to increase this pleasurable feeling.

We found we had about twenty-four hours before the steamer started for Shanghai, so had ample time to look round and see all there was to be seen of this busy place. The next day, therefore, passed rapidly enough, and after a delightful little dinner at the British Consulate with Mr. and Mrs. Brennan, we went on board the s.s. Hsin-Yu in the very best possible spirits; in fact, I don’t remember ever feeling happier than I did when I found myself once more on a well-appointed ship, and with the feeling that I had safely accomplished the greater part of my self-imposed task.

The trip to Shanghai occupied three and a half days, the weather being so delightful that it was quite like yachting in the Channel. The Hsin-Yu was a fine steamer of some 1500 tons, belonging to the China Merchants Company, manned by Chinese, but officered entirely by Europeans. She had, I learnt, the proud privilege of flying the “Greyhound” flag of the East. We called in at Chefoo, and remained there long enough to have a hasty look round this quaint little semi-English village. Then on again to Shanghai, where I arrived on June 26, 1891.

And here I will leave you, kind reader, for my long and arduous ten months’ pilgrimage across the vast Continent of Asia was thus complete—a pilgrimage which, although full of hardships and discomforts, was fully compensated by my strange and delightful experiences, so much so that in spite of all I should be glad of an opportunity to do many parts of it over again.

Nought remained for me now but to choose my route home. This I eventually decided to make viâ Japan and America, thus completing a circuit of the globe by an entirely novel route.