We Start on our Wedding Journey--Songdo--Guards at our
Gates--Crossing the Tai-tong--Difficulties in Finding an
Inn--Korean Launderings--An Old Man Seeks to be Rid of Sin--Mob
at an Inn--A Ruffian Bursts Open my Door--Fight in the Inn
Yard--Pat Defies the Crowd--Convenience of Top-knots--A
Magistrate Refuses to Shelter Us--The “Captain” to the
Rescue--Pack-ponies--We Lay a Deep Scheme--Torch Bearers--A
Mountain Hamlet--Tiger Traps--Tigers--A Band of Thirty Conspire
to Attack Us--Guns Used by Native Hunters--A Tiger Story.
We started on our trip at early dawn, turning directly north, on the
road passing under the arch, which then marked the spot where the
representatives of Korea yearly met the Chinese ambassadors who came to
receive tribute. This custom was maintained until Korea’s independence
was declared; in honor of which the old arch was then taken down and a
finer one erected. Beyond this arch lay the pass, a narrow, muddy and
stony way, leading through the mountain. It was crowded with oxen and
pack-ponies, going to and from Seoul. Shouting mapoos and coolies added
to the confusion, great rocks seemed just ready to fall from above and
crush the unlucky passers, and many which had fallen from time to time
impeded the road. Now a fine road has been made across the hill, and
the old way of danger and discomfort is closed up. From its darkness,
its fiendish noises, gruesome odors and bad going it would not have
been an unfit image of Bunyan’s Valley of the Shadow of Death. The
snow still remained in sheltered places, for it was only March, and the
morning air was sharp and chill, but we found a very fine road all the
way to Songdo.
We made our first halt at noon, at a small village between Seoul and
Songdo, and I had my first experience of a native inn. The Korean inn
is second only in filth, closeness, bad odors and discomfort to those
in the interior of China. There is usually only one room for women,
which has from one to four or five paper-covered doors or windows--they
are nearly always the same size and bear the same name--opening into
the kitchen, the court and the sarang. This room is often not more than
eight by ten or twelve feet large, and very low. The paper which covers
the door is commonly blackened with dirt, so that few indeed are the
rays of light which manage to struggle in a disheartened way into these
gloomy little apartments. They boast little or no furniture, perhaps a
chang or Korean cabinet (most unique and antique-looking chests, much
ornamented with brass or black iron hinges, locks, etc.) stands against
the wall, upon which are piled a great many bright-colored quilts and
pillows, not the wooden ones sometimes described and much used, but
like old-style long sofa pillows, and very much more comfortable. At
the center of the ceiling, just under the roof tree, may be seen a
bunch of dirty rags, feathers and sticks, where the household Lares and
Penates are supposed to roost. A wharrow or charcoal fire-pot with a
smouldering fire probably stands somewhere on the floor. This should
be promptly removed, as its presence often causes severe headache,
and sometimes asphyxia, from which one of the missionaries was only
resuscitated after repeated fainting and hours of effort on the part of
a companion.
In most of the inns very picturesque tall brass or wooden lamp-stands
are seen. They consist of a rod about two and a half feet high, on
a good solid base with a little bracket at the top for a saucer of
castor oil, and an ox horn hanging below containing the main supply of
oil. The lamp or saucer contains a small wick which yields a very tiny
light, just enough to emphasize and make visible the darkness. Often
these lamps have a special niche, or little cupboard in the wall, where
they are enclosed during the day. Nearly always a stout bar crosses the
room about a foot from the wall, and three or four feet from the floor,
on which garments may be hung, and as commonly there is a wide shelf
running around two or three sides of the apartment, very near the roof,
on which are sundry household utensils, winter vegetables, very likely
piles of yeast cakes for the manufacture of beer, and, in fact, a
heterogeneous collection, too numerous and varied to mention. Here lies
a dusty old book, there a work basket, and further on the wooden block
and clubs used for ironing, a bottle of medicine, a pile of rice bowls,
or a box of matches.
The mats which are placed over the oiled paper, or more likely directly
on the earth floor, are full of dust and vermin of all descriptions,
which run riot everywhere. It is best not to begin to think how many
people have, in that room and lying on these identical mats, been ill,
and died, of dysentery, small-pox, cholera or typhus fever, since the
room was even swept or the mats once shaken. A “really truly” cleaning
they are ignorant of. Fumigation and disinfection are as far beyond
the flights of their wildest imagination as the private life of the
man in the moon. The miracle over which we never cease to wonder and
admire is that so many people of clean antecedents who travel through
the interior are able to resist the microbes, bacteria, germs and all
similar enemies under whatsoever name which, according to all modern
science, ought to attack and destroy them in short order.
In most of the inns, tall earthen jars, from two to three, or rarely
four feet high, and two or three feet in diameter, in which Ali Baba’s
cutthroat thieves could easily hide, are ranged along the side of the
wall, but more frequently in the courtyard. They contain various kinds
of grain, pickles, beer, wine, and there are always several holding
_kimchi_ (a sort of sauerkraut), without which they never eat rice.
Numbers of dogs, cats, chickens, pigs and ducks are under foot in the
courtyard, oxen and ponies are noisily feeding in the stalls, under
the same roof with ourselves, only just outside the paper door, and if
one is to sleep it must be in spite of a combined grunting, squealing,
cackling, blowing and barking, anything but conducive to repose. Most
of the hotels have, as has been said, only one inner room, where it
is proper for a woman to stay. Our helper, chair-coolies, mapoos and
other travelers use the sarang, packed very likely like sardines in a
box, and the host’s family turn out, and go to a neighbor’s for the
night, unless the inn is a large one on the main road. A large and
fashionable inn in Korea would have perhaps five, or even six, sleeping
apartments--though I do not recollect having seen so many.
Now we travel with cot-beds which roll up and slip into heavy canvas
bags, and take up very little room on the pack. These blessings keep
us off the dirty floors, which are usually much too hot for health,
unless, indeed, one has come in wet, cold, and aching from a long
tramp, when they are a specific preventive of colds and rheumatism.
On that first journey, however, we had nothing of this sort, but we
sent out for some bundles of fresh clean straw used for thatch--one
thing, at least, of which there is plenty in every village--and piled
them at least a foot high. We spread thereon our bed, to the confusion
and defeat of our little enemies, ploughing their weary way uselessly
through the mazes of that straw all night. In this way we slept
peacefully, except when the floor became intolerably hot, and our bed
correspondingly so, then we rose, piled our straw in another place,
remade our couch, and composed ourselves again to slumber. We never did
this more than three times in one night, and it was a mere diversion.
The situation, however, develops into something quite beyond a joke,
as was hinted in a former chapter, when one is forced to travel in hot
weather. The rice and beans for men and animals must be cooked, which
means--in nine cases out of ten--that a fire must be built under your
room, and you must sleep on the stove, although the thermometer is
already in the seventies before it is kindled. The room, you remember,
is small and low, the windows opening to the court probably few. You
look longingly at the open porch or _maru_, but there are leopards and
tigers that prowl at night, or wanting these, no lack of rats, ferrets,
and snakes; there are foul smells and rank poisonous vapors, pools of
green water and sewage all about, a famous place in the damp night air
to soak a system full of malaria, more deadly than wild beasts; so with
a sigh you turn again to your oven, prepared for the worst. Up, up,
steadily climbs the thermometer, your pulses throb, your head snaps,
you gasp and pant for breath, and at length toward morning, when the
fire is dead, and the hot stones a little cooled, you fall into an
exhausted feverish sleep. But an early start is necessary to make the
next stage, and by four o’clock at least a new fire is built to cook
more rice, and you rush out of doors, to draw a whiff of pure air and
cool your burning temples.
So even if it were not for the rains, flooded roads, and overflowing,
unbridged rivers, we should not travel except from dire necessity
in the summer. Tents have not been found practicable among the
missionaries in the rainy season, and their use has been followed in
several instances by severe and even fatal illness. One of the chief
annoyances, especially on this our first trip, at the inns were the
_kugungers_ or sightseers. The paper doors are speedily made available
as peep-holes for the foe. From all quarters the word “foreigner,” and
above all “foreign woman,” spreads like wildfire. Never did a lion
or an elephant create such excitement in an American village. The
moment we entered an inn the house was instantly thronged, besieged,
invested. Every door was full of holes made by dampening the finger and
placing it with gentle pressure against the paper. It was dismaying,
when we fancied ourselves quite alone, to see all those holes filled
with hungry eyes. Never since have I cared to visit a show of wild
animals or human freaks. I sympathize with them so fully, that there
is no pleasure in the satisfaction of curiosity at such a cost. We
wished to meet the people, but we could not talk with such a mob, in
any satisfactory way, as their frantic curiosity about us made it
impossible for them to attend to what we had to tell until they were in
some measure satisfied. But to return to our trip.
Some twenty miles this side of Songdo the road crosses the Imgin river,
where a ferry boat is in readiness to carry the traveler and his
belongings to the other side. A story is told here of the patriotism
of a nobleman who lived in a magnificent summer house on the bluff
overlooking the river, at the time of the Hedioshi rebellion. His
king, fleeing from the Japanese, arrived here at midnight, and to light
him and his escort to the ferry this man set fire to his beautiful
home. As a result of this, the king crossed in safety, and escaped his
enemies. In token of his gratitude, he therefore ordered that a summer
house should be kept perpetually in memory of his loyal friend on the
site of the one which had been sacrificed, and loaded him with honors
and rewards.
The city of Songdo is one of the largest in Korea, and from a Korean
standpoint probably the most important commercially, as well as the
richest. Here is grown the ginseng, so highly prized by Koreans,
Chinese and Japanese, and sold--the best--at forty-five dollars a
pound; more than its weight in gold. Though Songdo was formerly the
nation’s capital, a successful rebel general, making himself king,
established his seat of government in Seoul.
We arrived in this ancient city about sundown, and shortly afterwards
met ten Christian inquirers. In a few days we sold all our books, and
medicines, which we expected would last for the entire trip, and had
to send back to Seoul for more. We were besieged by large crowds of
people during our stay, so that we were obliged to ask for a guard at
the gate. We admitted fifty at a time, and when their curiosity had
been sated, their diseases treated, and they had bought as many books
as they wanted, they were dismissed, to make room for another pushing,
struggling, eagerly curious fifty. Mr. Underwood baptized no one, but
met, examined and instructed inquirers, and directed and corrected his
native helper’s work.
Songdo is about forty-five miles from Seoul, and has about two hundred
thousand inhabitants. Thus far the Southern Methodists are the only
ones who have a station there, though just why we other missionaries
never started work in so important a center it would be hard to say;
except that it did not seem to develop there at first as promisingly,
shall I say, as insistently, as in some other places, where need was so
pressing we never could obtain workers enough to supply the demand, far
less start new centers.
[Illustration: TAI-TONG RIVER. PAGE 45]
[Illustration: FERRY BOAT. PAGE 43]
Songdo has no gates. It is said that they were removed, with the
privileges as well of the Quaga, because the people of that city so
persistently continued to despise and treat with contempt the authority
of Seoul. Whereas it is the custom to speak of going _up_ to Seoul,
they would refer to going _down_ to that city; they would not measure
their grain from right to left, as in Seoul, but from left to right;
and worst of all, from having constantly referred to the king as a pig,
they came to speak of a pig by the king’s name!
From Songdo, we proceeded north, by short stages to Pyeng Yang, which
was the next place of importance, where Mr. Underwood looked for
inquirers and where there were already a few Christians. We reached
the Tai-tong River, which lay just below the city gates between us and
it, in a driving snow storm. Long and loudly did the various members
of our party try their lungs in the effort to obtain a boat, but at
length, when patience was quite exhausted, the ferryman, or one of
them, arrived with a great flat-bottomed boat, which accommodated us
all--ponies, packs, coolies, chair, helpers and missionaries--and
landed us in mud and safety on the other side for a few cash. I had
almost forgotten, however, to speak of the beautiful road leading up
to this ferry, with its noble overarching trees and its variety of
beautiful bushes and flowers. Even at that bleak and wintry season
it was lovely, and a month later, when we returned, it was charming,
with its green woodland shade and its wealth of sweet-scented
blossoms. Now, alas! it is quite shorn of its beauty, for during the
Japanese-Chinese war, the trees were all cut down.
We were no sooner within the city gates than a very noisy and
constantly increasing crowd followed close at our heels, growing ever
more annoying and demonstrative, till its dimensions and behavior were
altogether too much like a mob. Respectable and frightened inn-keepers
one after another turned us from their doors until the uncomfortable
possibility of being obliged to spend the night in the streets
suggested itself. However, after a time we found a refuge, and with
the aid of a policeman from the magistracy we managed to keep the mob
at bay, seeing only a stated number at a time, as in Songdo. It rained
during most of our stay, and I could with no comfort or safety go out
even in a chair to see the town, for if I so much as peeped out, some
one caught sight of the foreign woman, and at once a crowd gathered
which made it impossible to move or to accomplish anything. Once before
we left I accompanied Mr. Underwood to a pleasant spot outside the
gates, which he thought would be a good site for a sub-station, and we
made a visit to the mother of one of our Christians. She was extremely
sick, and as she recovered not long after we were very happy in having
left a good impression and a grateful family behind us.
I had a practical illustration of the inconvenience of Korean methods
of laundry in this town, for giving out a number of articles to the
tender mercies of a Korean woman, they were returned minus all the
buttons. They had pounded the garments on a stone in some stream, and
as a precaution had removed all these little conveniences before doing
so. There was no starch, no bluing, and no ironing. Korean clothes
before ironing must be ripped, and are then pounded for hours on a
smooth piece of wood until they obtain a beautiful gloss. Koreans are,
however, not without _iron_ irons. They have quite a large one, which
holds hot charcoal, and two sorts of small ones, not more than half
an inch wide by two or three inches in length, with a long handle,
for pressing the seams of sleeves, and of garments which it is only
desirable to press on the seam.
After a stay of about a week in Pyeng Yang, during which time we saw
a great many visitors, most of whom came from curiosity, but none of
whom went away without a printed or spoken word about the gospel, we
again started out on our journey north. Oh, if one prophetic vision
might have been granted us of what was to be in such a few years! If
we could have seen those dreary and heart-sickening wastes of humanity
transformed into fields of rich grain waiting in harvest glory for the
sickle, if we could have seen the hundreds now gathered yearly into
the garner, how our hearts would have burned within us! “But the love
of God is broader than the measure of man’s mind,” and though we saw
visions and dreamed dreams, we hardly dared hope they would all be
fulfilled. God kept the future hidden as a sweet surprise. Just after
leaving this city an old man of seventy-six came three miles to inquire
of us “concerning the religion by which a man could be rid of sin,” one
of the first fruits of that later harvest, which God permitted us to
reap.
Ernsan, one of the small villages at which we spent the night, turned
out to be a very rough sort of place. We were obliged in many of these
towns to use the Foreign Office letter to obtain the shelter of the
magistracies, as often the inns would not receive us or would prove
no defense against the rudeness of the curious mobs, and we had no
Christian constituency to fall back upon. At this particular place the
magistrate was away, and the “_chabin duli_” (roughs) were not under
ordinary restraint.
In the morning, as the time for leaving drew near, a crowd of about one
hundred men and large boys assembled in the little courtyard waiting
for a _kugung_ (sight) of the two curiosities. My husband, well aware
that a woman who permits herself to be viewed by strange men is not
respected or respectable in Korea, had my chair brought into the house,
and the door closed, so that I might be shut in there and pass out
unseen. On finding themselves thus balked of perhaps the one great
opportunity of their lives to behold these strange, wild animals,
some of the baser fellows could not restrain their curiosity, and one
of them, probably egged on by the others, broke open the door of my
bedroom. Than this, no greater breach of law or propriety is recognized
in the land, and the guilty wretch is amenable to almost any punishment
the injured woman’s friends may choose to inflict. My husband, standing
near the door, lifted his foot as the proper member with which to
express his sentiments--the tongue being incapable of sufficient vigor
and the hand too good--and this, though only a demonstration--the man
was not touched--was sufficient encouragement to my chair coolies, who,
considering their own honor bound up with mine for the time being,
rushed forth to punish the “vile creature” who had insulted us all.
One of them, a brawny fellow whom we called Pat, from his resemblance
to gentlemen of the nationality which favors that name, at a bound had
singled out his prey from the midst of the crowd and dragged him forth
from his encircling friends and protectors.
He dragged him forth in the usual approved Korean method, under such
circumstances, by the top-knot, a very convenient and effective handle,
for a man once in the grasp of his enemy in this way is practically
at his mercy. He was soon on the ground being pummelled. But it must
be remarked that we were but a little party, four coolies, one helper,
one missionary, one woman, and they were a hundred or more strong. Our
calling and dearest hopes forbade our using severe measures, nor would
they, even firearms, have availed for long, but would only have served
to make enemies for us on all sides, supposing we had frightened this
crowd into order. So it behooved us to make peace, and speedily, for
there were black looks and angry and threatening murmurings as the
friends of the culprit drew near, preparing to defend him.
[Illustration: METHOD OF IRONING. PAGE 46]
So Mr. Underwood rushed down into the crowd, drew off our exasperated
coolie, and quieted the rising storm. But Patrick could not depart
without giving some expression to his indignation, and waving his chair
rod like a shillalah in the air around his head, he stood at the top of
the steps, his back to the crowd (the pure Korean method in quarrels),
vociferously announcing to whom it might concern his opinion of such
actions in general, and this one in particular, and bidding them, in
the spirit of James Fitz James at the ford
“Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.”
But my husband saw that it would be best to get away while we could
without exasperating them further, and before the temper of the crowd
should change again for the worse. A similar occurrence in either China
or Japan would almost certainly have ended very differently for us.
The Koreans do not bear malice, nor are they very revengeful or cruel
without great provocation. We merely had to do with a rough crowd,
who gathered thinking we were probably a base sort of people; and
when they saw that we behaved as quiet, decent Koreans would do, they
respected our reserve and curbed their curiosity, though a few boys
threw stones and hooted, and they all followed us a few rods outside
the village, but we soon found ourselves peacefully alone.
Before passing on I must say a few words on the general effectiveness
of the top-knot method. It is a great pity men do not wear their hair
in this way in America. We women who favor women’s rights would soon
find it a mighty handle by which to manage them, for in the hands of a
discerning woman it is indeed an instrument of unlimited possibilities.
Who would care to wield a scepter abroad, who could wield a top-knot
at home? By one of these well-tied arrangements have I beheld a
justly irate wife dragging home her drunken husband from the saloon;
and firmly grasping this, I have seen more than one indignant female
administering that corporal punishment which her lord and master no
doubt richly deserved. The Korean wife stands and serves her husband
while he eats, she works while he smokes, but when family affairs come
to a certain crisis, she takes the helm (that is to say, the top-knot)
in hand, and puts the ship about.
At another of our stopping places on this road we found a magistrate
who had been so long in the interior and who was so ignorant and
illiterate that he neither knew the uses of a passport, nor could read
it when presented. This was serious, indeed, for here with a rough and
curious crowd to be refused the shelter of the magistracy might mean
our being subjected to mob violence, and would almost certainly insure
our passing the night on the road. Here we must exchange exhausted
pack-ponies for fresh ones, here we must obtain money for the next
stage, and food and fire for our tired coolies and ourselves. So when
our helper returned with the disquieting news that the magistrate would
none of us, “the captain” donned his harness, and passport in hand,
strode into the presence, gesticulated, I am afraid, stamped, waved the
passport in the air, flung it to the ground, and by dint of noise and
vehemence succeeded in impressing the astonished little official with a
sense of the dignity and importance of the Foreign Office passports in
the hands of strenuous Westerners.
He promptly and politely gave us rooms, money, ponies, everything we
needed, in order to rid himself of us and our arguments, I suppose,
and no doubt he still recalls us as the most remarkable and alarming
intruders who ever disturbed his quiet and uneventful life.
But although sheltered by the magisterial walls our annoyances were not
over. Word had been passed far and near of the arrival of foreigners,
and the crowds gathered thicker and thicker. They were only rude
and good-naturedly curious, but curiosity is a strange passion when
really aroused, as only those who have been its victims know. Men will
travel miles, will undergo unheard-of fatigues and surmount great
difficulties, and will pay very little regard to the convenience,
comfort or even safety of those who try to oppose them in their desires
to gratify this passion.
Aware that we were besieged, we hung shawls and rain coats round
the room, before the doors and windows, hoping to prevent the usual
peep-show made by perforating fingers, and thus fortified, seated
ourselves in front of our trunk, which served for a table, to partake
of our meal during the short respite thus gained. A smothered titter
made us look quickly around. Long slender rods had been pushed through
the peep-holes, the curtains lifted, multitudes of eyes applied to new
holes, and we were well in view. I must honestly confess that in some
of these baffled moments, in the hot fire of the enemy’s ungenerous
triumph, I have thought with glee of the execution which could be done
with a syringe well aimed at those eye-filled holes, if we were just
common travelers and not longing to win all hearts and ready to bear
all such small annoyances with patience for the love of these poor
people, even the most annoying of them. And now that I am more fully
seasoned, I endure these rude intrusions into my privacy with more
_sang froid_, excusing and understanding it.
About this stage in our journey our provisions ran very low, and among
other things sugar gave out. Natives do not have this article of food,
but we were able to get the Korean buckwheat honey, than which I have
never tasted any more delicious, and we found that it improved the
flavor of the finest tea.
Here in these far recesses of the interior, where we were uncertain of
the temper of the people, and where many more than doubtful characters
were known to be in hiding, the magistrates thought it necessary to
send at least one, sometimes two, officials with us.
At the town of Huiju we found the scenery growing quite wild, the hills
rising into mountains (though not very high ones), the road zig-zagging
up and up, while a brawling, hurrying brook ran noisily below. Here
we found the first spring flowers under the lingering snow, and above
the snow were butterflies darting about in the sunshine, quite sure
that they were in the right place, since the Father sent them, even
though it did look a little cold and bleak; and then if one only looked
up, there was the sun. Just here in the steepest, dizziest and most
difficult part of the ascent, two of those poor little pack-ponies
which I had been pitying all along for the terrible way their
relentless mapoos overloaded them, began fighting (loads and all),
and after kicking each other in the liveliest fashion for some time,
squealing like little fiends, while the poor mapoos were dancing and
vociferating around them trying to bring about a truce, they finally
scampered off in different directions, and then and there my heart
hardened, and never since has pity for these animals entered it. They
are, I firmly opine, as self-willed, spoiled, obstinate, quarrelsome,
uncertain, tricky and tough little beasts as ever carried a load.
Among many other people treated at this little village, a woman came
sixteen miles for medicine, and carried away as well the news of the
Great Physician. Thus the mission to the body proves effective to the
soul, and the seed is scattered far and wide. How that little seed
prospered He only knows who has promised that those who cast it upon
the water shall find it after many days.
Here, after we had eaten our supper, Mr. Underwood and I conceived a
deep scheme to escape the stuffy little cage-like room and take a walk
by moonlight in the midst of that lovely scenery. It would of course be
futile to go out of the gate, for then the alarm would be given, and we
should be hounded by the entire able-bodied portion of the populace.
But the wall was low, and waiting till we supposed every one had
retired for the night, we stealthily crept like a couple of criminals
out of our quarters, surmounted the wall, and were at last free, and
for once alone, away from staring eyes, to enjoy the sweet air and
each other’s company. But alas! we had hardly gone twenty paces when a
Korean cur (than which only a Korean pig is more detestable) espied or
nosed us, and at once set up a loud and continuous bark. We hurried on,
hoping to escape, but it was not to be; one white form after another
appeared at the doorways, soon a quickly swelling stream of people
were in our wake, and the game was up. We returned and retraced our
steps, attended by a long retinue, entered by the gate, and hid our
discomfiture within the walls of our little dungeon.
From Huiju our road led up farther, over a still higher mountain, and
here we were provided, according to the conditions of our passport,
with oxen instead of ponies to carry our loads (being stronger and
surer footed), and also, as for all travelers belated and overtaken
by darkness, torches of blazing pine knots or long grass carried by
some of the villagers to a certain distance, where it was the business
of others to meet us with new ones. The men who provide the oxen and
torches are given the use of certain fields by the government in
payment for such services, but often they are unfaithful. The belated
traveler pounds long at their gates in vain. Some neighbor appears to
say the man is sick or away. At length, when a reward has been given,
and when patience has not only ceased to be a virtue, but ceased to
exist at all, he or his wife appears and deliberately prepares the
long-desired torch.
On the other side of this mountain, as we descended into the valley, we
found a village which presented a very different aspect from any we had
yet seen. The houses were not made of a basket work of twigs filled in
with mud, like the ordinary native dwellings, but of heavy logs. The
little compounds surrounding each house were enclosed with high fences
made of strong timbers, each sharpened to a point at the top and firmly
bound together, instead of the usual hedge of blossoming bushes or
tile-covered mud wall. It all looked as if these farmers and foresters
were prepared for a siege, but from what enemy?
There were no Indians or wild tribes here. It was a most picturesque
place. The mountains rose grandly above us, all around were woods,
and a beautiful stream rippled along between them and the village. It
was a glorious moonlit night, the atmosphere seemed fairly to sparkle
with brilliancy. Again, after supper, we prepared to take a walk. Few
indeed had been our opportunities for such honeymoon observances as
this, which are supposed to be the peculiar privilege and bounden duty
of all the good newly married. As has been noted already, the large
crowds which watched our every movement, and from whose observation not
the smallest motion was lost, precluded any such folly on our part, but
here, far off in the wild recesses of the woods and mountains, in a
village whose inhabitants seemed nobly exceptional in the praise-worthy
habit of keeping at home, here we might wander at will, in the
enchanting light, listening anon to the silvery cadences of the stream.
So we sauntered along in the most approved fashion of honeymooners
until a few steps beyond the confines of the village, where woods
closed in on all sides.
We had observed here and there as we passed along what looked like
a sort of huge pen made of logs, weighted with great stones on top,
strangely constructed, as if for the housing of some large animal.
Now as we stood on the edge of the brook trying to decide whether to
cross into the woods, a sound as of heavy and yet stealthy footsteps
on the dry leaves in the shadow of the trees arrested our attention.
An uncanny mystery seemed to hang over everything. Slightly startled
by the sound, we awakened to the fact that the pens we had seen must
be tiger traps, that this was a famous tiger tramping ground (they
would naturally come to the brook to drink), that the enemy against
whom the village was so strongly fortified were these beasts of prey,
and that it would be in every way profitable to us to postpone our
moonlight rambles for some more propitious time and place. So with a
less lover-like and more business-like pace we returned to the prosaic
but welcome shelter of the huts.
Korean tiger skins are very fine when the animal has been killed in
the winter, but unfortunately the natives do not understand the proper
method of preserving them, and those which are taken away, as well as
the leopard skins, very soon become denuded of hair. The natives prize
the claws very highly, and often remove them as soon as the beast is
killed. They are found from the Manchurian border through the whole
country, among the mountains; more than once have they been seen in
the capital since my arrival, and only a few months after I landed a
leopard was seen in the Russian legation compound next to our house.
As our homes were all bungalows, and the extreme heat of summer nights
necessitated open windows, I often lay awake after this for hours
at night, certain that I heard the stealthy, heavy tread and deep
breathing of one of these creatures in my room.
But to return to our experiences in the tiger valley, which were not
yet done. While Mr. Underwood and I were taking a walk together that
evening we heard in the valley below us the sharp report of a gun. The
house in which we were was on the side of a hill, while our servants’
quarters, and indeed most of the village, was in the valley just below.
Shortly some one came running to tell us that a tiger had just been
shot. This was slightly exciting, but turned out later to have been
a mere excuse to quiet any alarm I might have felt on hearing the
explosion of the gun.
The real facts were, it seemed, that a band of some thirty men,
probably fugitives from justice, and robbers, had conspired to visit
us that night at midnight and destroy the vile foreigners who had
dared to intrude into the sacred precincts of this mountain land, and
thus warned, no more strangers should trouble their shores. They had
drunk together to the success of their plot, and the leader had rather
overdone this part of it. Far gone in intoxication, he had been too
much fuddled to keep to the plan, had come several hours in advance of
the time, had loudly boasted in the little inn of their intentions, and
fired his gun in a fit of bravado. At the command of the head of the
village he was immediately seized and locked up and his gun taken away.
It was a poor old-fashioned affair, arranged with a long fuse wound
around the bearer’s wrist, lighted when ready to fire, and inserted in
an arm held up by the trigger, the pulling of which raised and removed
a small cap which protected the priming powder and dropped the fuse
upon it, thus firing the gun. It is with these awkward and clumsy
weapons that the cool Korean hunters face and shoot the most formidable
leopards, tigers, wild boars and bears which abound in the mountains of
Korea. The Korean nobles use tiger and leopard skins on their carrying
chairs, and the teeth and claws for ornaments, while the bones, when
ground up, are supposed to be unrivalled as a tonic.
Many are the tiger stories told by Koreans; their folklore abounds
with them. One very brief one is all I have time to insert. Once
upon a time a fierce tiger crept stealthily into a village in search
of prey. But every one was in bed, the cattle and pigs well guarded
behind palisaded walls, not a child, a dog, or even a chicken lingered
outside. He was about to retire in despair of finding a supper there
when he spied through the small aperture at the bottom of a gate, such
as is found in all gates for the egress of dogs and cats, a small and
trembling dog. His majesty tried in vain to squeeze through this hole,
and finding it hopeless, took a careful survey of the wall. It was
high, it is true, and sharply spiked, but sharply set too was the royal
appetite, and he resolved to try the leap, after carefully reckoning
the height to be surmounted and his own strength. He was a great agile
fellow, and with the exertion of all his might he jumped, barely
escaping the spikes, and landed safely inside the inclosure, quite
ready for his supper, well aware that he must snatch it quickly and be
gone ere the hunter in the cottage should espy and shoot him. But puppy
had gathered his tail between his legs, and with loud and long kiyies
had slipped through the opening to the outer side of the wall. Nothing
remained for our hungry prowler but to try another leap, only to find
that his supper had again given him the slip. Alas, that his brains
were not equal to his perseverance and industry! I grieve to be obliged
to relate that this greedy fellow vaulted back and forth in pursuit of
his meal, his anger and appetite growing with every leap, until he died
of exhaustion and fell an ignominious prey to his small and elusive
foe, illustrating the fact that might does not always win and that the
small and weak need not always despair in the contest with size and
strength.
In the little hamlet where we met the adventure with the man who meant
to kill us we were treated to fine venison and delicious honey. All
through the woods we found anemones and other spring flowers and saw
specimens of the beautiful pink ibis, belonging to the same family as
the bird so often worshiped in Egypt. On the road hither and all around
us we saw stacked and ready for sale cords of fine dark hard woods, of
which we did not know the names, but much of which looked like black
walnut. No one who has traveled through this part of the country could
possibly say there was a dearth of trees in Korea, or of singing birds,
or sweet-scented flowers, or gorgeous butterflies.