CHAPTER XIV.

SAWADY.

The _hun pooay_--Mission proceeds to Sawady--Visit from Woon--Rumoured

opposition--The Woon as a musician--Sawady village--Royal

orders--Baggage difficulties--Arrival of Mr. Clement Allan--Paloungto

chief--Kakhyen pilfering--Abandon route--Adopt Ponline route--Reasons

for change--Tsaleng Woon--Departure of mission to Tsitkaw--Elias and

Cooke proceed to Muangmow--Dolphins--Up the Tapeng--Tahmeylon--Arrive

at Tsitkaw.

On the following day the greater part of the baggage was stowed in

boats ready for departure to Sawady, which was fixed for the 23rd. The

Woon made his appearance at an early hour, bent on inviting Margary

and his writer, and all of us, to spend this the last day with him.

In the forenoon the usual _ying pooay_, or dance, went on, but in the

evening a _hun pooay_, or pooay acted by marionettes, was given. This

was a much more artistic affair than that of the Chinese puppets, the

marionettes being well made, regularly dressed figures about three feet

high. The stage on which they are presented is removed to a distance,

the proscenium forming, as it were, a frame proportioned to the size

of the figures; and the movers of the puppets stand behind a screen at

the back, and manipulate the little heroes and heroines by means of

strings. To the spectators they have a most real appearance, being very

cleverly handled, and the speeches are made by the invisible actors

with such art as to really seem as if proceeding from the puppets, so

as to suggest ventriloquism. This performance was evidently the most

popular form of entertainment. The Woon sat eyeing the puppets intently

through his binocular, just as his royal master had eyed us at the

audience, and the townspeople, squatted in rows, remained till midnight

eagerly watching the mannikins. The Woon produced an alarum clock which

had been rendered incapable of going, and amused himself tinkling the

alarum; but he was quite ignorant of the value of the hours, and even

after several lessons illustrated by a watch, he utterly failed to fix

the hands.

On the next day, most of our party rode to Sawady, to which place the

guard and all the baggage had preceded them. Mr. Elias and I, however,

remained behind until we should receive the _mot d’ordre_ from Browne,

as the operation of packing the bullocks was likely to occupy some

days. The Woon, whom I had not seen that day, came in the afternoon to

apologise for his apparent neglect, as he had been engaged in receiving

public subscriptions for the regilding of the Shuaykeenah pagoda. He

was delighted at my offering a small contribution, and waxed eloquent

on the _entente cordiale_ engendered by such conduct, and sent for

his wife to bring a large silver vase containing the collection, to

which my donation was duly added. We had a long talk on the archæology

of the district, the old cities of Tsampenago and Kuttha, and the

founder of the Shuaykeenah pagoda, whom he asserted to have been a

king of Ceylon, named Thee-yee-da-ma-thanka, a legend commonly current

regarding the more ancient pagodas of Burma. In the evening he sent

the tsare-daw-gyee and the two tsitkays to pay a visit, from whom I

learned that there existed ancient histories of the district in some

of the khyoungs, one of which they promised, if possible, to obtain.

When they were shown a photograph of the Soolay pagoda at Rangoon,

they expressed their regret that during the municipal improvements of

the town the site of the sacred building had become the junction of

cross-roads, which seemed in their minds a desecration. They were,

however, relieved by the assurance that this must have been done by the

British authorities in ignorance of the religious prejudices thereby

affected.

Two or three days passed without any incident of consequence, save that

on the 25th a Chinaman came to the Residency to report that he had

overheard some Yunnan Chinese talking in the bazaar, and had gathered

that an armed force had been despatched from Momien and Tali-fu to

Muangmow, under the command of Li-sieh-tai, to oppose our entrance

into China. His account, however, was very confused, and he had not

succeeded in hearing any very distinct statements, as the men had

evidently been suspicious of him. It is probable that this was merely

a garbled version of the fact that Li-sieh-tai had crossed from the

Tapeng valley to Muangwan with a few men _en route_ to Muangmow. The

same day letters arrived from Sawady to say that the departure of

the mission was fixed for the following day, upon which we went at

once to the Woon to secure boats, who most readily placed them at our

disposal. He afterwards paid us a visit, bringing his Burmese harp

of twelve strings, on which he showed himself no mean performer. He

was accompanied by a boy who played a sort of harmonicon, or musical

glasses constructed of slips of hard wood, which vibrated with a sweet,

full tone. Another performer clashed a pair of cymbals, and clicked

split bamboos like castanets. The airs were sweet and plaintive.

After the music we had a long conversation about England, Prussia,

France, and Persia, with the general relations of which governments

he showed himself to be well acquainted. Railways and the mode of

transit to England were also discussed; my interpreter, however,

though an educated Burmese and son of a native official, proving very

incompetent, and putting absurd statements into my mouth. The Woon had

brought a present of a fruit, which he said was a great rarity from

Yunnan. It was the size of an apple, of a bright yellow colour, with

a delicate skin enclosing a jelly-like pulp, the coolness of which he

expressed by a pantomimic passing of his hand from the throat to the

epigastric region. He called it _tsay-thee_; but inquiries from Elias

and Margary identified it as a persimmon. Of this fruit, quantities

in a dried form are imported to Burma, where they are a favourite

sweetmeat; but the fresh fruit is unknown.

On the 27th we were ready to take boat to Sawady, and I bade farewell

to my friend, the Woon, who charged me to write to him. Elias and

myself started from Bhamô about 11.30, and arrived at Sawady in a

little more than a couple of hours.

Sawady is a miserable village of about forty houses, though formerly

containing five times that number; but continual inroads by the

Kakhyens have reduced it to its present scanty dimensions. It is under

the protection of the Phonkan tsawbwa, who also, for a yearly payment

of salt, protects the village of Yuathet, situated about three quarters

of a mile to the north on the high bank of a small creek called

Theng-leng, which flows into the Irawady between high alluvial banks.

The village of Sawady is defended by a double bamboo palisade, and a

similar palisade runs along the narrow path dividing the two rows of

houses. As a further protection, boats, corresponding to the number

of houses, are moored to the river bank, and nightly the inhabitants

retire to them for sleep, and thus secure themselves against the not

infrequent nocturnal attacks of the Kakhyens. Sawady and Yuathet are

both small emporiums for trade, whither the Kakhyens resort to procure

fish and salt, and they bring bamboos to be floated down the river;

they are also ports for the trade to the interior. Around stretches a

vast plain, bounded by the distant hills, profusely covered with forest

and jungle, sometimes of underwood, sometimes of thick grass fifteen

feet high, with frequent swamps, which in the wet season are covered

with water. Before our arrival, Margary and Fforde had made expeditions

into the forest in search of game. Peafowl abounded there, perched at

inaccessible heights, on the highest trees, and they found the tracks

of tigers and other large game, but the solitudes were still as death,

and they returned without having started any animal. We found the

convoy of bullocks, under the charge of some hundred Kakhyens, encamped

outside the village. The Paloungto tsawbwa, a respectable-looking

man, clean and well dressed, with a huge roll of gold-leaf by way of

ear-ring distending the lobe of his ear, along with his pawmines, was

ready to receive the baggage. The Burmese guard encamped in hastily

improvised _tais_, while the Englishmen were accommodated in a rickety

zayat screened with curtains.

On the second day (January 24th), orders came from Mandalay that

the Burmese guard should escort the mission right up to the nominal

frontier of Burma and China or to Kwotloon, instead of Mansay, as

previously arranged and approved by the Kakhyens, whose opinion of the

change was not given. They continued to take over the packages, giving

receipts for each, and making panniers suitable for carriage on the

bullocks, into which the boxes were to be packed.

On the 25th, objections began to be raised to the size of the packages,

which had been previously altered at Bhamô, and next the tsawbwa

appeared to say that he had brought three hundred and thirty-six

bullocks, although we only required two hundred. He explained this,

by stating that Elias had doubted their ability to provide two

hundred bullocks. The chief, therefore, had brought three hundred and

thirty-six, to prove the contrary, and expected to be paid for the lot,

although he admitted that the Resident had contracted for one hundred

and fifty bullocks and twenty ponies. This proposal being got rid of,

the next demand was for payment of the hire in advance, which Colonel

Browne also negatived, but promised to pay him one-half the amount,

provided all was ready for a start in two days.

The next day was accordingly spent in transferring all the remaining

baggage, with the exception of the boxes containing the wardrobes of

the officers and the cash, which were placed under the immediate care

of the Sikhs.

The 27th found the preparations for starting still backward, a state

of things which was not improved by heavy rain, against which the

Englishmen and their followers were but slightly protected, and the

baggage not at all. The chief and his pawmines appeared to receive the

promised advance of hire, but he declined to fix a time for starting,

as he required salt wherewith to load the extra bullocks. When met

by a refusal to delay for this purpose, he departed in a bad temper,

leaving his pawmines to continue the discussion. They finally settled

to start the day but one after, on condition of receiving one viss

of silver in advance, and one hundred and forty rupees as demurrage

expenses, being ten rupees for each of the fourteen villages whence the

bullocks had come. This was a fair charge, as the men and their beasts

had been awaiting our arrival for some days. Elias and I arrived while

the payment was being made in lumps of sycee silver, one of which was

declared by a pawmine to be bad, and, being bitten, proved to be hollow

and filled with sand. Soothed by the receipt of the _compraw_, the

Paloungto chief declared that we were brothers, and he would be ready

to start “the day after to-morrow.”

The evening brought a pleasant surprise to our party by the arrival of

Mr. Clement Allan, who had come from Mandalay in ten days, in a royal

boat. While passing on the river, he heard one of the Sikhs talking to

a Chinaman on the bank, and, hailing them, discovered our whereabouts.

He was thus saved the journey to Bhamô, and all our party were now

assembled, and notwithstanding the heavy rain, we spent a pleasant

evening in anticipation of a speedy departure.

While at breakfast, we were disturbed by hearing a number of gun shots,

and learned that the Kakhyens had endeavoured to remove our clothes

boxes in order to add them to the general baggage. The Sikhs on guard,

having received orders not to lose sight of them, declined to permit

their removal, whereupon the indignant Kakhyens fired their muskets

in the air. The Burmese tsitkay expressed uneasiness as to the temper

of the Kakhyens, and seemed to fear a collision with them, as they

numbered about four hundred men armed with muskets. There evidently

existed some ill-feeling between the Kakhyens and the Burmese, and

it unfortunately happened that all interviews with the chief were

conducted in presence of the Burmese officials. It came out in the

course of the day that the Paloungto chief had not entered into any

convention with the other tsawbwas of the route. The Resident had

been assured that a passage through their territories was certain on

payment of the ordinary dues. The chief had declared that most of

them would support his arrangements, but that it would be necessary

at Mansay to agree with the Phonkan tsawbwa, who would not come to

Sawady. The inveterate curiosity and pilfering habits of the hillmen

were exemplified by their boring holes in several provision tins in

order to ascertain the contents, the holes being afterwards carefully

stopped with cotton; our sugar, salt, and bags of rice were taken

toll of, and sundry bottles of brandy had mysteriously disappeared;

and it was subsequently discovered that the screws had been drawn

out of the boxes. Still, when it is remembered that a number of wild

hillmen had been detained in this place for a fortnight, with scanty

provisions, allowance must be made for petty thieving, without arguing

a deliberate intention of plunder. Our leader, however, began to be

seriously anxious about the prospects of safe transit through the hills

by this route. To the difficulty arising from the known antipathy of

the Burmese to the Lenna Kakhyens, there was now added the declaration

of some Shans of Muangmow, that the hillmen would not be permitted to

cross their borders, and this tended to make Colonel Browne suspicious

of the real intentions of the Paloungto chief. The climax was reached

when the old interpreter, Moung Mo, announced in the evening that our

expected start was postponed _sine die_, and that the chief, displeased

at being refused the charge of our clothes boxes, declined to accompany

us, devolving our escort on his pawmines. Upon this, Colonel Browne

resolved to return to Bhamô, and make arrangements for proceeding by

the old Ponline route, instead of that by Sawady and the Shuaylee.

But I think it doubtful that the Paloungto chief had any dishonest

intentions. He could not have divined the presence of the specie in

the boxes, and it was natural that he should require all the baggage

to be made over on the eve of starting, and should resent the obvious

imputation on his honesty, implied in the refusal to surrender these

boxes.

We rode to Bhamô through jungle grass fifteen feet high, interrupted

occasionally by hollows studded with trees. The intersecting creeks

were difficult to cross, as the path, or rut, through the high

sandbanks was steep, and barely wide enough for a passage, so much so

that one of the ponies, with his rider, rolled back into the water,

which was only about three feet deep. Having arrived at Bhamô, and

decided to go by the Ponline route, if practicable for the led horses,

the Resident started for Tsitkaw, to summon the Kakhyen chiefs, and

provide mules. The Woon, fearing that the Paloungto chief would not

surrender the baggage, despatched a reinforcement of armed men on board

of four war-boats, mounted with gingals. We returned to Sawady by

water, bringing several large boats for the baggage, which were left

at Yuathet, by way of precaution against alarming the Kakhyens. On the

30th the tsawbwa and his pawmines came in from their camp, and Browne

recapitulated the delays and broken promises of the past week as well

as the want of arrangements with the other tsawbwas of the route. The

chief replied that his refusal to start had been caused by his anger at

being refused the care of the boxes; that he was willing to start “the

day after to-morrow;” but if we refused to go by his route, he should

expect to be paid the agreed hire for the bullocks brought down. The

reply to this was that, whatever the Resident and pawmines, who had

made the original contract, agreed to as justly due should be paid.

Browne, however, offered a douceur of a viss of silver as soon as the

baggage was restored. This was agreed to; and the men at once set to

work to bring back the boxes, which were transferred to the large

boats, and on January 31st the entire mission, escorted by the Burmese

war-boats, returned to Bhamô, having definitely abandoned the route by

Sawady, and elected to travel by the northern or Ponline road.

Letters had been received from the Resident, written from Tsitkaw, to

the effect that plenty of mules were procurable, and that the Burmese

officials had summoned the Kakhyen chiefs. On our arrival at Bhamô, we

found a force of three hundred men in war-boats armed with gingals,

collected under the command of the Woon, who had been about to come in

person to Sawady to deliver us, if necessary, from the hands of the

Lenna Kakhyens. This was an additional proof, if any had been needed,

of the care of the Burmese for our welfare, and of the uncertainty

of their relations with the southern hill tribes. It was with great

reluctance that I for one turned my back on the Sawady route, the full

exploration and eventual establishment of which as the future trade

route had been proposed as a special object of our mission. It was

generally understood to be, though the longest, the one which presented

fewest physical difficulties; and of its actual employment we had

ocular demonstration in the trading parties, numbering many mules and

bullocks, which were continually coming and going during our stay at

its terminus.

The northern route had been thoroughly explored six years before,

and full information collected concerning its physical and social

conditions, while the change in the political relations affected all

routes alike. As was afterwards ascertained, we were expected by the

Chinese at Muangmow, whither, it appears, Li-sieh-tai had gone to meet

the mission, and, as far as may be judged by his conduct, without

hostile intentions; and besides all this, Mr. Elias, cooperating with

the British Resident at Bhamô, had visited the Lenna Kakhyens a month

before, and had made arrangements with them, according to which they

had brought down their beasts of burden for the conveyance of the

mission. Among various reasons assigned for abandoning the route were

the suspicious bearing of the Paloungto chief, and the possible, if not

probable, risk of delay in the hills. This would have been aggravated

by the chance that the provisions of the Sikhs, who were only supplied

with flour for thirty-five days, might run short. Another danger was

conceived to lie in the want of arrangements with the Phonkan chief,

who might prove as obstructive as he of Ponsee had done, and either

stop or fleece the mission. With regard to the behaviour of the Lenna

chief of Paloungto, it might have been expected that any lurking

ill-will would have been aggravated by the disappointment experienced

at losing the fair profits of a convoy, for which he had brought down

carriage and waited so long. At the time, the presence of the large

Burmese force may be thought to have restrained him; but the subsequent

reception given by him and his brother of Wurrabone to Mr. Elias and

Captain Cooke showed him to be thoroughly well affected, and almost

anxious to prove the absence of any ill-feeling. It was a generally

wise and proper policy to thoroughly conciliate the goodwill of the

Burmese officials, and to carry them with us in all our proceedings.

This line of conduct was carefully and consistently adopted by our

leader, but, consequently, there was no opportunity afforded to the

Kakhyen chief of expressing his sentiments as to the Burmese guard.

His only intercourse with our party was by interview held in presence

of the tsitkay, at which he was expected to take the position of an

inferior, squatting on the ground before men to whom he acknowledged

no subordination; and it is to be regretted that he did not find an

opportunity for confidential communication which might probably have

led to a better understanding. It must also be remembered that Kakhyen

chiefs do not comprehend the value of time, or share our notions as

to procrastination, and are not above “trying it on” in order to gain

a little more silver. As regards the possible complications with the

Phonkan tsawbwa, who six years before had announced his wish for the

passage of British commerce through his country, although he could not

or would not come into Sawady, he might have been induced to have met

and conferred with us at Mansay, while, if supplies of flour were not

procurable at Bhamô, yet, according to the experience acquired in 1868,

they were available in the Shan valleys and at Momien.

On February 1st, we were all assembled in our old quarters at Bhamô.

The Woon was rather nonplussed at the adoption of the Ponline route,

and anxious as to the dangers of attack to which the mission might be

exposed before reaching Manwyne, though no whit relaxing his efforts to

carry out our wishes. Another Woon, he of Tsaleng, arrived in the royal

steamer, and seemed to fill the post of counsellor to his colleague,

who was perplexed by the news which arrived from Cooke, that all the

tsawbwas were at Manwyne discussing the tariff, and could not return

for some days. The same steamer brought up from Mandalay two Kakhyen

chiefs of the central route, viz. Muangkha and Poonhya. In return for

services rendered to the recent Burmese embassy, these two chiefs had

been received with high honour, and presented with gold umbrellas and

gilded saddles. They rode through Bhamô on ponies decorated with the

gilded equipage, while each rider wore a golden head-band bearing his

titles, preceded by a man carrying the golden umbrella, and escorted by

others beating gongs and proclaiming his rank.

On the 3rd, the heavy baggage and guard were embarked in boats to

proceed to Tsitkaw, accompanied by Fforde and myself, leaving Colonel

Browne and Margary to follow by land, while Elias had arranged to

attempt the passage by the Sawady route, and join the rendezvous at

Momien. The flotilla started from the river bank at Bhamô, and poled

up the Irawady to the mouth of the Tapeng, our progress against the

rapid stream being slow, and impeded by numerous projecting snags and

occasional sandbanks, where the water was so shallow that the crew

were obliged to jump overboard and push or drag the heavily laden

boats along. Immediately outside the mouth of the Tapeng extended a

bar of sandbanks, beyond which the great river suddenly deepened to

about eighty feet of water. In this deep reach numerous round-headed

dolphins were sporting. This being the pairing season, the males were

chasing the females. Some were swimming with their heads half out of

water, and _jerking from their mouths_ large quantities of water to

some distance. One or two were noticed apparently standing erect in the

water, with their heads elevated straight above its surface, so that

nearly the whole of the pectoral fins was plainly visible; others, in

pairs, were rolling about on their sides. One was fired at, but simply

responded by a splutter and a dive. The boatmen, seeing our interest in

them, declared that they would come if called, and proceeded to utter a

peculiar sound of _hrr, hrr_, and to drum on the side of the boat with

a stick. They informed us that the dolphins do not proceed higher up

the river than a rocky headland in the first defile, called Labein-hin,

or Dolphin Point, because the nats have established a customs station

there to collect an impost, which the dolphins are not willing to pay.

The dolphin of the Irawady (_Orcella fluminalis_, Andr.) is the only

round-headed form as yet known to be found in fresh water, individuals

having been rarely observed much below Prome, three hundred miles

from the sea, or nearly so. The colour of the body is a dusky slate,

and the under part of a dirty white; they attain a considerable size,

individuals ten feet in length being not uncommon. Besides the round

head, they are distinguished from the long-snouted dolphin of the

Ganges (_Platanista gangetica_, Lebeck), which also inhabits fresh

water exclusively, by the much larger, fully proportioned eye. The

latter, as a tenant of the muddy water of the Ganges, which must be

almost impervious to vision, has a very minute eye. In the Yang-tze and

in the great lake of the Cambodia, dolphins are also found, and will

probably prove to be closely allied to those of the Irawady; but as

yet we have no knowledge of their characters. In the estuaries of the

Bay of Bengal there is a small, round-headed dolphin closely allied to

this Irawady cetacean, but it never ascends to the fresh water of the

rivers. Apart from the scientific interest of these large fluviatile

mammals, they form a striking feature in the river scenery of the

Irawady as they roll and tumble in long lines up the deep reaches, and

seem to delight in keeping pace with or outracing the steamers. They do

not appear to migrate through the whole distance of the river’s course,

but to confine themselves within certain districts. The fishermen of

the river regard them with a superstitious respect, and each village

is believed to be under the protection of a particular dolphin, which

guards the fishery. An offer of one hundred rupees altogether failed to

induce the people to catch a specimen; and it was only by the fortunate

acquisition of a dead carcass thrown upon the bank, and secured by

Captain Bowers, that I was enabled to make a thorough comparison of

the structure of this remarkable inhabitant of the river. It should be

added that the great black-headed gull is so regular a companion of

the dolphin that it is called by the fishermen the _labein-nuet_, or

dolphin-bird.

The progress of the flotilla of six laden boats against the rapid

stream of the Tapeng was necessarily slow. The right bank presented a

wide stretch of level country studded with tall cotton trees and oil

trees. The highest leafless branches of the former furnish eyries for

the ring-tailed eagle (_Haliaetus leucoryphus_, Pallas), a pair of

which birds were perched on a tree close to the bank commanding the

river. One bird was added to our collection. The left bank was clothed

to the water line with an impenetrable forest of magnificent trees,

rising from a jungle with ratans and luxuriant musæ. Numerous peacocks

displayed their splendid plumage on the high branches, most provokingly

out of shot. Hornbills, brown doves with violet necks abounded, and in

the jungle, barking deer, hog-deer, and sambur. The exposed sandbanks

were covered with snake-birds; terns, black-headed egrets, plovers, and

Brahminy ducks and wild geese also were frequent. We moored for the

night at the village of Queyloon, in time for a short excursion to some

abandoned rice plantings, in search of wild ducks; returning from which

we observed numerous small owls, the soft eccentric flight of which

resembled that of the goat-sucker.

Soon after sunrise we were again _en route_, having waited some

time for a promised supply of buffalo milk, this being an almost

unattainable luxury in Burma; but the baby buffalo had anticipated our

demand, and disappointed our hopes. At the village of Tahmeylon, where

we had made a stoppage on the first ascent of the Tapeng in 1868, the

changes of the river channel were exemplified. At that time the water

ran deep under a high bank, but now a broad sandbank extended in front

of the village. We had landed on the other side of a neck of land which

caused a bend in the river, intending to strike the public path, which

we missed, and had to make our way by buffalo runs, which penetrated

the tall thick grass like tunnels. Along these we had to proceed nearly

doubled up, occasionally caught and almost choked by creepers, drenched

by the dank grass overhead, and knee-deep in miry clay. By dint of

keeping the sun before us, we succeeded in reaching Tahmeylon by noon.

Beyond this, the course of the river winds in a remarkable manner,

doubling successive long tongues of land, and enclosing a large island

overgrown with impenetrable jungle, until the village of Maloolah is

reached, on the left bank. The villagers warned us to moor our boats

for the night at some distance from the bank for fear of tigers, which

are numerous, and attack boats near the bank, and even the villages, at

night. In the neighbouring village of Tsitgna, ten of the inhabitants

had been killed by tigers in the preceding twelve months. We crossed

the stream in the morning in a dug-out, intending to shoot peafowl in

the forest which covered the rising ground on the right bank, but the

margin of the forest proved so swampy as to prevent all access. Jungle

fowl and squirrels were numerous, and our servants reported hog-deer.

We rejoined the boats at the outflow of the Manloung stream, having

breakfasted at the pagodas of Old Tsampenago. A labyrinth of streams

and swamps extends on the right bank to the place where a branch of

the Tapeng flows round and joins the Manloung stream. On the left

bank the forest is dense and high, and beyond it rises the irregular

outline of the Kakhyen hills, gradually becoming more distinct as

Tsitkaw is approached. At this village we found a khyoung outside the

stockade prepared for our accommodation, and the baggage was stored

in a large shed used for the storage of the royal cotton. A Burmese

guard, under the command of the tsare-daw-gyee, formed a cordon around

our residence, and by night had erected a number of huts, while their

fires formed a circle within which no robbers nor tigers were likely to

penetrate.

At five in the afternoon of the next day, Browne, Margary, and Allan

arrived from Bhamô, which they had left at 10.30. The necessity of

avoiding the network of streams and swamps had obliged them to cross

the river three times in boats, while the two led horses and the ponies

swam across.

Mandalay to Momien A narrative of the two expeditions to western China of 1868 and 1875 under Colonel Edward B. Sladen and Colonel Horace Browne · 第 14 / 16 章