Our stay in three-thousand year-old Peking was too short, for besides
investigating conditions, attending our Minister Shurman's reception,
visiting the country home of the former Prime Minister Hsuing Hsi-Ling,
we would have enjoyed spending more time seeing The Summer Palace, The
Jade Fountain and the Temple of Heaven to say nothing of studying
conditions.
About one-thirty, when the gay dance had ended at Hotel de Peking, which
by the way, would be a credit to London or New York, we took an hour's
rickshaw ride in the moonlight to the Forbidden City. The solemn
pom-pom-pom of the funeral dirge for the Mother of the heir to the
Chinese Throne, was indescribably impressive. About eighty men bore the
casket from the dwelling to its canopied hearse. One of the mourner's
told us that the fourteen-year-old heir to the throne, had not cared
much, when all his playthings were taken from him, or even when his
throne was taken, but that now he was inconsolable over the loss of his
mother.
After seeing this weird funeral procession of the last of the Ming
Dynasty in the gray of early dawn, seeing a Buddha with eyes of pure
gold, and also riding the Hodzu rapids, it took an aeroplane ride to
create any real excitement in our party.
Six of the Chamber of Commerce Representatives decided to see the Great
Wall of China and the Ming Tombs, regardless of the lack of time; so
Carl Westerfeld, Mrs. Bruce Foulkes, David and Reese Lewellyn, Miss Mary
Moynihan and M. Hazlett, Jr., chartered a Vickers Vimmy Biplane. The
air-riders felt much less perturbation after being informed that this
machine cost the Chinese government fifty thousand dollars, weighed over
five tons, and had comfortable wicker seats in a pretty little cabin for
nine people. They were so proud to accomplish in an hour and a half, a
trip which usually takes two days, that we will tell some of them that
they have not come down to earth yet, if they keep on telling us what we
missed by not going.
We had no sooner gotten accustomed to the Japanese money and were able
to say, "Ohio," (good-morning), and a few other Japanese words glibly,
when we had to learn "Pidgin English" and use the "Mex" dollar in China,
and next we were told to exchange our money from Peking notes to
Shanghai currency.
The approach to Shanghai, the Paris of the East, along its beautiful row
of buildings on the waterfront, and called The Bund, surprised even the
muchly thrilled Chamber of Commerce Party.
The American Consul, C. T. Cunningham, was very ill, but his wife gave
us a reception. A dinner by the Chinese Chamber of Commerce and an
examination of trade exhibits followed.
The six physicians of the party received their biggest surprise at the
Chinese Theatre when, in the middle of the performance, a large towel
that had evidently been dipped in warm water, was passed around to the
audience so that the theatre-goers might wipe off the perspiration or
beads of excitement from their faces and hands. The towel was a rich
shade of brown by the time it reached our party. Germs? Why they never
thought of such a thing and seem to feel, "Where ignorance is bliss,
'tis folly to be wise."
If Shanghai thrilled us, Hongkong fascinated us, when we ascended in a
railroad something like our Tamalpais cars to the peak. To reach the
very top, cozy wicker chairs, mounted on bamboo poles, carried by two
coolies, are necessary. The movement of the chair while descending
reminds one of a ride on a rather old, single-gaited horse.
Our party will always associate Macao, China, with "Dante's Inferno." To
see the half-clothed Chinese bending over their open fires in the opium
factory, to see children soldering the covers of the little boxes their
brothers have just finished mixing and filling, will always be an awful,
vivid picture in our memories.
The cigar factory also seemed a fine sample of what some good people
wish us to believe awaits the wicked. Babies, not able to walk, are busy
working beside their mothers stripping the tobacco leaf from the stems.
If the cigar and opium factories shocked us, the firecracker factory
appalled us. A crowd of youngsters huddled in a tiny, filthy room filled
with powder, were working with wonderful dexterity, ceaselessly putting
fuses in firecrackers. No one seemed to notice or care if a visitor
might carelessly let a light fall from a cigar or drop a match. Many of
us decided that perhaps the proverb: "If you want to make a Chinese
happy, just buy him a coffin," is not so far off, because death to many
of them looks much more attractive than life. We were told that if a
Chinese falls off his sampan, his neighbor does not try to save him.
That would be a "Bad Joss" as they say and would incur the wrath of the
River God, who pulled him in. Then, too, the rescuer would have to
support him for the rest of his days.
The Homeward Trip