CHAPTER XII.

Hotel of Justice and Mercy--Province of Kan-Sou--Agriculture--Great Works

for the Irrigation of the Fields--Manner of Living in Inns--Great

Confusion in a Town caused by our Camels--Chinese Life-guard--Mandarin

Inspector of the Public Works--Ning-Hia--Historical and topographical

Details--Inn of the Five Felicities--Contest with a Mandarin,

Tchong-Wei--Immense Mountains of Sand--Road to Ili--Unfavourable aspect

of Kao-Tan-Dze--Glance at the Great Wall--Inquiry after the

Passports--Tartars travelling in China--Dreadful Hurricane--Origin and

Manners of the Inhabitants of Kan-Sou--The Dchiahours--Interview with a

Living Buddha--Hotel of the Temperate Climates--Family of

Samdadchiemba--Mountain of Ping-Keou--Fight between an Innkeeper and his

Wife--Water-mills--Knitting--Si-Ning-Fou--House of Rest--Arrival at

Tang-Keou-Eul.

Two months had elapsed since our departure from the Valley of Black

Waters. During that period, we had undergone in the desert continual

fatigue and privations of every kind. Our health, it is true, was not as

yet materially impaired, but we felt that our strength was leaving us,

and we appreciated the necessity of modifying, for a few days, our late

rough manner of living. In this point of view a country occupied by

Chinese could not be otherwise than agreeable, and, in comparison with

Tartary, would place within our reach all sorts of comforts.

As soon as we had passed the Hoang-Ho, we entered the small frontier town

called Che-Tsui-Dze, which is only separated from the river by a sandy

beach. We proceeded to take up our lodging at the Hotel of Justice and

Mercy (_Jeu-y-Ting_). The house was large and recently built. With the

exception of a solid floor of grey tiles, the whole construction was of

wood. The host received us with that courtesy and attention which are

always displayed when people desire to give a character to a new

establishment; and, besides, the man having a most unprepossessing

aspect, was anxious, probably, by his amiability of manners, to redeem

his ugliness of feature; his eyes, which squinted horribly, were always

turned away from the person whom he was addressing. However, if the

organ of sight was defective, the organ of speech bad marvellous

elasticity. In his quality of an old soldier, he had seen much, heard

much, and what is more, he remembered much; he was acquainted with all

countries, and had had to do with all sorts of men. His loquacity was

far from being troublesome to us: he gave us details of every kind, as to

the places, great and small, which we had to visit before our arrival at

Koukou-Noor. That part of Tartary was well known to him; for, in the

military part of his career, he had served against the Si-Fan. The day

after our arrival he brought us, early in the morning, a large scroll, on

which were written, in order, the names of the towns, villages, hamlets,

and places that we had to pass in the province of Kan-Sou; and then he

proceeded to give us a description of the localities with so much

enthusiasm, so much gesticulation, and in such a loud key, that he made

our heads turn.

The time which was not absorbed in long interviews, partly compulsory,

partly voluntary, with our host, was occupied in visiting the town.

Che-Tsui-Dze is built in the corner of an angle, formed on one side by

the Alechan mountains, and on the other by the Yellow River. On its

eastern bank the Hoang-Ho is bordered by dark hills, wherein are abundant

coal mines, which the inhabitants work with great activity, and whence

they derive their chief wealth. The suburbs of the town are occupied by

great potteries, where you observe colossal urns, used in families as

reservoirs of water, and large stoves of admirable construction, and a

large collection of vases of all shapes and sizes. There is in the

province of Kan-Sou a large trade in this pottery.

At Che-Tsui-Dze, provisions are abundant, varied, and of astonishingly

moderate price. Nowhere, perhaps, can a person live so economically. At

every hour of the day and night, itinerant restaurateurs bring to your

house whatever provisions you need: soups, ragouts of mutton and beef,

vegetables, pastry, rice, vermicelli, etc. There are dinners for every

appetite, and for every purse--from the complicated banquet of the rich,

to the simple and clear broth of the beggar. These restaurateurs are

coming and going to and fro almost without interval. They are generally

Moslems--a blue cap distinguishing them from the Chinese.

After two days repose in the Inn of Justice and Mercy, we proceeded on

our way. The environs of Che-Tsui-Dze are uncultivated. On all sides,

nothing is to be seen but sand and gravel, drifted by the annual

inundation of the Yellow River. However, as you advance, the soil,

becoming imperceptibly higher, improves. An hour's distance from the

town, we crossed the Great Wall, or rather passed over some miserable

ruins that still mark the ancient site of the celebrated rampart of

China. The country soon becomes magnificent, and we could not but admire

the agricultural genius of the Chinese people. The part of Kan-Sou which

we were traversing, is especially remarkable by its ingenious and

extensive works for facilitating the irrigation of the fields.

By means of creeks cut in the banks of the Yellow River, the waters are

conveyed into broad artificial canals; these again supply others of a

larger size, which, in their turn, fill the ditches with which all the

fields are surrounded. Sluices, great and small, admirable in their

simplicity, serve to raise the water and to carry it over all the

inequalities of the land. The distribution of the water is perfectly

arranged; each landowner waters his fields in his turn, and no one is

allowed to open his flood-gate before his regularly appointed time.

Few villages are met with; but you observe, in all directions, farms of

various sizes separated from one another by meadows. The eye does not

rest upon either groves or pleasure-gardens. Except a few large trees

round the dwellings, all the land is devoted to the cultivation of corn;

they do not even reserve a space for stacking the harvest, but pile it up

on the tops of the houses, which are always flat-roofed. On the days of

the general irrigation, the country gives you a perfect idea of those

famous inundations of the Nile, the descriptions of which have become so

classic. The inhabitants traverse their fields in small skiffs, or in

light carts with enormous wheels, and generally drawn by buffaloes.

These irrigations, so conducive to the fertility of the land, are a great

pest to travellers. The roads are generally covered with water and mud,

so that you cannot use them, but must labour along the mounds which form

the boundaries of the fields. When you have to guide camels over such

roads, it is the height of misery. We did not advance a single step

without the fear of seeing our baggage fall into the mud; and more than

once such an accident did occur, throwing us into infinite embarrassment.

In fact, that the misfortune did not oftener befall us, was solely

attributable to the skill in mud-walking which our camels had acquired in

their apprenticeship amongst the marshes of the Ortous.

In the evening of our first day's march, we arrived at a small village

called Wang-Ho-Po; we had expected to find here the same facility in

obtaining provisions as at Che-Tsui-Dze, but we were soon undeceived.

The customs were not the same; those amiable restaurateurs, with their

baskets of ready-dressed viands, were no longer visible. Forage-dealers

were the only persons who came to offer their goods. We therefore

commenced by giving the animals their rations, and afterwards went into

the village to see if we could find any provisions for our own supper.

On our return to the inn, we were obliged to cook our own supper; the

host merely furnished us with water, coal, and a meal-kettle. Whilst we

were peaceably occupied in appreciating the result of our culinary

labours, a great tumult arose in the courtyard of the inn. It was

occasioned by a caravan of camels, conducted by Chinese merchants, who

were going to the town of Ning-Hia. Destined for the same route as

themselves, we soon entered into conversation. They told us that the

direct road to Ning-Hia was so bad as to be impracticable, even for the

best camels; but they added, they were acquainted with a cross-road

shorter and less dangerous, and they invited us to go with them. As they

were to depart in the night, we called the host in order to settle our

account. After the Chinese fashion, when sapeks are in question, on one

side they ask much, on the other they offer too little; then there is a

long squabble, and after mutual concessions you come to an agreement. As

they thought us Tartars, it was quite a matter of course with them to ask

us nearly triple the just amount: the result was, that the dispute was

twice as long as it ordinarily is. We had to discuss the matter

vigorously; first, for ourselves, then for our beasts, for the room, the

stabling, the watering, the kettle, the coal, the lamp, for every single

item, until at length we got the innkeeper down to the tariff of

civilised people. The unfortunate Tartar exterior, which, for other

reasons, we had assumed, had been the occasion of our acquiring a certain

degree of dexterity in discussions of this kind; for not a day passed,

during our journey through the province of Kan-Sou, in which we had not

to quarrel, in this manner, with innkeepers. Such quarrels, however,

involve no disagreeable results; you dispute, and dispute, and then you

come to an agreement, and the matter is over, and you are as good friends

as ever with your antagonist.

It was scarcely past midnight when the Chinese camel-drivers were on

foot, making, with great tumult, their preparations for departure. We

rose, but it was to no purpose that we expedited the saddling of our

animals; our fellow travellers were ready before us and went on,

promising to proceed slowly till we came up with them. The instant that

our camels were ready, we departed. The night was dark; it was

impossible to discover our guides. With the aid of a small lamp we

sought traces of them, but we were not successful. Our only course,

therefore, was to proceed, at chance, across these marshy plains, which

were altogether unknown to us. We soon found ourselves so involved in

the inundated soil, that we dared advance no farther, and halted at a

bank, and there awaited daybreak.

As soon as the day dawned, we directed our steps, by a thousand ins and

outs, towards a large walled town that we perceived in the distance; it

was Ping-Lou-Hien, a town of the third class. Our arrival in this town

occasioned lamentable disorder. The country is remarkable for the number

and beauty of its mules; and at this juncture there was one of these

standing, fastened by a halter, before each of the houses of the long

street, which we were traversing from north to south. As we proceeded,

all these animals, seized with fright at the sight of our camels, reared

on their hind legs and dashed with violence against the shops; some broke

the halters which confined them, tore off at a gallop, and overthrew, in

their flight, the stalls of the street merchants. The people gathered

together, sent forth shouts, anathematised the stinking Tartars, cursed

the camels, and increased the disorder instead of lessening it. We were

grieved to find that our presence had such unfortunate results; but what

could we do? We could not render the mules less timid, nor prevent the

camels from having a frightful appearance. One of us, at last,

determined to run on before the caravan, and inform the people of the

approach of the camels. This precaution diminished the evil, which did

not, however, entirely cease until we were outside the gates of the town.

We had intended to breakfast at Ping-Lou-Hien; but, not having

conciliated the good-will of its inhabitants, we dared not stop there.

We had only the courage to purchase some provisions, for which we paid an

exorbitant price, the occasion not being favourable for bargaining. At

some distance from the town, we came to a guard-house, where we stopped

to rest awhile, and to take our morning repast. These guard-houses are

very numerous in China, the rule being that there shall be one of them at

every half-league, on all the great roads. Of a singular and entirely

Chinese construction, these barracks consist of a little edifice, either

of wood or earth, but always whitewashed. In the centre, is a kind of

shed, entirely without furniture, and with one large opening in front.

This is reserved for unfortunate travellers, who, during the night, being

overtaken by bad weather, cannot take refuge in an inn. On each side is

a little room with doors and windows, and sometimes with a wooden bench

painted red, by way of furniture. The exterior of the barrack is

decorated with rude pictures, representing the gods of war, cavalry, and

fabulous animals; on the walls of the shed are drawn all the weapons used

in China, matchlocks, bows, and arrows, lances, bucklers, and sabres of

every description. At a little distance from the barrack, you see on the

right a square tower, and on the left, five small posts standing in a

line. These denote the five lis which are the distance from one

guard-house to another; frequently a large board, on two poles, informs

the traveller of the names of the nearest towns, in that quarter. The

directions on the board now before us were these:--

From Ping-Lou-Hien to Ning-Hia, fifty lis.

Northwards to Ping-Lou-Hien, five lis.

Southwards to Ning-Hia, forty-five lis.

In time of war, the square tower serves during the night for giving

signals by means of fireworks, combined in particular ways. The Chinese

relate that the Emperor Yeou-Wang, the thirteenth emperor of the Tcheou

dynasty, 780 B.C., yielding to the absurd solicitations of his wife,

ordered one night the signals of alarm to be made. The Empress wanted at

once to amuse herself at the expense of the soldiers, and to ascertain,

at the same time, whether these fireworks would really bring the troops

to succour the capital. As the signals passed on to the provinces, the

governors dispatched the military Mandarins and their forces to Peking.

When the soldiers learned, on their arrival, that they had been called

together for the capricious amusement of a woman, they returned home full

of indignation. Shortly afterwards, the Tartars made an irruption into

the empire, and advanced with rapidity to the very walls of the capital.

This time the Emperor gave the alarm in grave earnest, but throughout the

provinces not a man stirred, thinking the Empress was again amusing

herself; the consequence was, that the Tartars entered Peking, and the

imperial family was massacred.

The profound peace which China has enjoyed so long has much diminished

the importance of these guard-houses. When they decay they are seldom

repaired; in most cases their doors and windows have been carried off,

and no one lives in them at all. On some of the more frequented roads,

they keep in repair the direction-boards and the posts.

The barrack where we halted was deserted. After having tied our beasts

to a thick post, we entered a room, and took in peace a wholesome

refreshment. Travellers looked at us as they passed, and seemed a little

surprised to find the place turned into a dining-room. The finer people,

especially, smiled at these three uncivilised Mongols, as they deemed us.

Our halt was brief. The direction-board officially announced that we had

yet forty-five lis' march before we reached Ning-Hia, so that,

considering the difficulty of the road, and the slowness of our camels,

we had no time to lose. We proceeded along the banks of a magnificent

canal, supplied by the waters of the Yellow River, and destined for the

irrigation of the fields. Whilst the small caravan was slowly marching

over a muddy and slippery ground, we saw advancing towards us a numerous

party of horsemen. As the retinue came up, the innumerable labourers who

were repairing the banks of the canal, prostrated themselves on the

earth, and exclaimed, "Peace and happiness to our father and mother!" We

at once understood that the person so addressed was a superior Mandarin.

In accordance with the strict rules of Chinese etiquette, we ought to

have dismounted, and have prostrated ourselves, as the others did; but we

considered that, in our quality of priests of the Western Heaven, we

might dispense with this troublesome and disagreeable ceremony. We

remained, therefore, gravely seated on our steeds, and advanced quietly.

At sight of our camels, the other horsemen prudently removed to a

respectful distance; but the Mandarin, to show his bravery, spurred his

horse, and compelled it to come towards us. He saluted us politely, and

made inquiries in Mongol as to our health and our journey. As his horse

grew more and more afraid of our camels, he was constrained to cut short

the conversation, and to rejoin his retinue, but he went away, triumphant

at the reflection that he had found an opportunity of speaking Mongol,

and of thus giving the horsemen of his suite a high notion of his

knowledge. This Mandarin appeared to us to be a Tartar-Mantchou; he was

making an official inspection of the irrigating canals.

We proceeded still some way along the banks of the same canal, meeting

nothing on our road but some carriages on large wheels, drawn by

buffaloes, and a few travellers mounted on asses of lofty stature. At

length, we discerned the lofty ramparts of Ning-Hia, and the numerous

kiosks of the pagodas, which looked in the distance like tall cedars.

The brick-walls of Ning-Hia are ancient, but well preserved. The

antiquity, which has almost entirely covered them with moss and lichen,

gives them a grand and imposing aspect. On every side they are

surrounded by marshes, where canes, reeds, and water-lilies grow in

abundance. The interior of the town is poor and miserable; the streets

are dirty, narrow, and tortuous; the houses smoke-dried and tottering;

you see at once that Ning-Hia is a town of very great antiquity.

Although situated near the frontiers of Tartary, the commerce there is

inconsiderable.

After having gone nearly half up the central street, as we found we had

still a league to go before we reached the other extremity, we resolved

to make a halt. We entered a large inn, where we were soon followed by

three individuals who impudently demanded our passports. We saw at once

that we had to defend our purses against three swindlers. "Who are you

that dare to demand our passports?" "We are employed by the great

tribunal: it is not lawful for strangers to pass through the town of

Ning-Hia without a passport." Instead of replying we called the

innkeeper and desired him to write upon a small piece of paper, his name

and that of his inn. Our demand greatly surprised him. "What is the

good of this writing? what are you going to do with it?" "We shall soon

have need of it. We are going to the great tribunal, to inform the

Mandarin that three thieves have sought to rob us in your inn." At these

words the three collectors of passports took to their heels; the landlord

loaded them with imprecations, and the mob, who were already assembled in

great numbers, laughed heartily. This little adventure caused us to be

treated with especial respect. Next morning, ere day had dawned, we were

awakened by a terrible noise, which arose all at once in the court-yard

of the inn. Amid the confusion of numerous voices that seemed in violent

dispute, we distinguished the words, "Stinking Tartar--camel--tribunal."

We hastily dressed ourselves, and proceeded to investigate the nature of

this sudden uproar, with which it struck us we had something to do, and

so it turned out; our camels had devoured, in the course of the night,

two cart-loads of osiers which were in the yard. The remnants still lay

scattered about. The owners, strangers at the inn like ourselves,

required to be paid the price of their goods, and their demand we

considered perfectly just, only, we thought that the landlord alone was

bound to repair the damage. Before going to rest, we had warned him of

the danger in which the osiers lay. We had told him that he had better

place them elsewhere, for that the camels would certainly break their

halters in order to get at them. The owners of the carts had joined with

us in advising their removal, but the landlord had laughed at our fears,

and asserted that camels did not like osiers. When we had sufficiently

explained the matter, the mob, the standing jury among the Chinese,

decided that the whole loss should be made good by the landlord; however,

we had the generosity not to demand the price of the halters of our

camels.

Immediately after this impartial judgment had been pronounced, we

departed on our way. The southern part of the town seemed to us in even

a worse condition than that which we had passed through on the preceding

evening. Several portions were altogether pulled down and deserted: the

only living things to be seen were a few swine, raking up the rubbish.

The inhabitants of this large city were in a state of utter misery. The

greater number of them were covered with dirty rags. Their pale visages,

haggard and thin, showed that they were often without the necessaries of

life. Yet Ning-Hia was once a royal town, and, doubtless, opulent and

flourishing.

In the tenth century, a prince of Tartar race, a native of Tou-Pa, at

present under the dominion of the Si-Fan, having induced a few hordes to

follow him, came, and formed, despite the Chinese, a small state not far

from the banks of the Yellow River. He chose for his capital,

Hia-Tcheou, which afterwards came to be called Ning-Hia. It was from

this town, that this new kingdom was called Hia. It was in a very

flourishing state for more than two centuries; but in 1227, it was

involved in the common ruin, by the victories of Tchinggiskhan, the

founder of the Mongol dynasty. At present Ning-Hia is one of the towns

of the first class in the province of Kan-Sou.

On quitting Ning-Hia, you enter upon a magnificent road, almost

throughout bordered by willows and jujube trees. At intervals, you find

small inns, where the traveller can rest and refresh himself at small

expense. He can buy there tea, hard eggs, beans fried in oil, cakes, and

fruit preserved in sugar or salt.

This day's journey was one of absolute recreation. Our camels, which had

never travelled except in the deserts of Tartary, seemed thoroughly

sensible to the charms of civilization; they turned their heads

majestically right and left, observing, with manifest interest, all that

presented itself on the way, men and things. They were not, however, so

wholly absorbed in the investigations of the industry and manners of

China as to withdraw their attention altogether from its natural

productions. The willows, especially, attracted their interest; and when

at all within their reach, they did not fail to pluck the tender

branches, which they masticated with entire satisfaction. Sometimes,

also, expanding their long necks, they would smell the various delicacies

displayed over the inn doors, a circumstance which, of course, elicited

vehement protests from the innkeepers and other persons concerned. The

Chinese were not less struck with our camels, than our camels were with

China. The people collected from all directions to see the caravan pass,

and ranged themselves on each side of the road; taking care, however, not

to approach too near the animals which excited their surprise, and whose

strength they instinctively dreaded.

Towards the close of this day's march we arrived at Hia-Ho-Po, a large

village without ramparts. We proceeded to dismount at the Hotel of the

Five Felicities (_Ou-Fou-Tien_). We were occupied in giving forage to

our beasts, when a horseman bearing a white button on his cap, appeared

in the court of the inn. Without dismounting, or making the accustomed

salutation, he proceeded to bawl for the landlord. "The great Mandarin

is on his way here," cried he, in curt and haughty tones; "let everything

be clean and well swept. Let these Tartars go and lodge elsewhere; the

great Mandarin will not have camels in the inn." Coming from the courier

of a Mandarin, these insolent words did not surprise but they irritated

us. We pretended not to hear them, and quietly pursued our occupation.

The innkeeper, seeing that we paid no attention to the order that had

been made, advanced towards us, and laid before us, with politeness

mingled with embarrassment, the state of the case. "Go," we said to him

firmly; "go tell this white button that you have received us into your

inn, that we will remain there, and that Mandarins have no right to come

and take the places of travellers, who are already lawfully established

anywhere." The innkeeper was spared the trouble of reporting our words

to white button, for they had been pronounced in such a manner that he

could hear them himself. He dismounted forthwith; and addressing us

directly, said, "The grand Mandarin will soon arrive; he has a large

retinue, and the inn is small; besides, how would the horses venture to

remain in this yard in presence of your camels?" "A man in the suite of

a Mandarin, and, moreover, adorned like you with a white button, should

know how to express himself--first, politely, and next, justly. We have

a right to remain here, and no one shall expel us; and our camels shall

remain tied to the door of our room." "The grand Mandarin has ordered me

to come and prepare apartments for him, at the Hotel of the Five

Felicities." "Very well; prepare them, but don't meddle with our things.

If you cannot accommodate yourselves here, reason suggests that you go

and seek a lodging elsewhere." "And the great Mandarin?" "Tell your

Mandarin that there are three Lamas of the Western Heaven in this place,

who are ready to return to Ning-Hia to discuss the matter with him: or

before the tribunal, if it be necessary, at Peking; they know their way

thither." White button mounted and disappeared. The host came to us

immediately, and begged us to be resolute. "If you remain here," said he

to us, "I am sure to profit a little by you; but if the Mandarin takes

your place, his people will turn my inn upside down, will make us work

all night, and then go away in the morning without paying a farthing.

And besides that, if I were forced to send you away would not the Hotel

of the Five Felicities lose its reputation? Who would afterwards enter

an inn where they receive travellers only for the purpose of turning them

out again?" Whilst the host was exhorting us to courage, the courier of

the Mandarin reappeared; he dismounted and made us a profound bow, which

we returned with the best grace possible. "Sirs Lamas," said he, "I have

ridden through Hia-Ho-Po; there is no other convenient inn. Who says you

are bound to cede to us your place? To speak so were to talk

inconsistently with reason! Now, observe, Sirs Lamas; we are all

travellers: we are all men far distant from our families; cannot we

consult together in a friendly manner and arrange the matter like

brothers?" "No doubt," said we, "men ought always to deal together like

brothers; that is the true principle. When we travel, we should live

like travellers. When each gives way a little, all are, in the end,

accommodated." "Excellent saying! excellent saying!" cried the courier;

and thereupon the most profound bows recommenced on both sides.

After this brief introduction, which had perfectly reconciled both

parties, we deliberated amicably how we should best arrange our common

residence in the Hotel of the Five Felicities. It was agreed that we

should keep the room in which we were already installed, and that we

should tie up our camels in a corner of the court, so that they might not

terrify the horses of the Mandarin. The courier was to dispose of the

rest of the place as he pleased. We hastened to remove our camels from

the door of our room and to place them as had been settled. Just after

sun-set we heard the Mandarin's party approaching. The two folding doors

of the great gate were solemnly opened, and a carriage drawn by three

mules advanced into the middle of the court of the inn, escorted by a

numerous body of horsemen. In the carriage was seated a man about sixty

years old, with grey mustachios and beard, and having his head covered

with a red hood. This was the great Mandarin. On entering, he scanned,

with a quick and searching glance, the interior of the inn. Perceiving

us, and remarking, above all, three camels at the end of the court, the

muscles of his lean face were suddenly contracted. When all the horsemen

had dismounted they invited him to descend from his vehicle. "What!"

cried he in a dry, angry voice; "who are those Tartars? what are those

camels? let the landlord be brought to me." On this unexpected summons

the host took to his heels, and white button remained for an instant like

one petrified: his face turned pale, then red, then olive-colour.

However, he made an effort, advanced to the carriage, put one knee to the

ground, then rose, and approaching the ear of his master, spoke to him

for some time, in an undertone. The dialogue ended, the great Mandarin

condescended to dismount, and after having saluted us with his hand in a

protecting manner, he retired like a simple mortal to the small room

which had been prepared for him.

The triumph we had thus obtained in a country, admission even to which

was prohibited to us under pain of death, {273} gave us prodigious

courage. These terrible Mandarins, who had formerly occasioned us such

alarm, ceased to be terrible to us the instant that we dared to approach

them, and to look at them closely. We saw men puffed up with pride and

insolence, pitiless tyrants towards the weak, but dastardly in the

extreme before men of energy. From this moment we found ourselves as

much at our ease in China as anywhere else, and able to travel without

fear, and with our heads erect in the open face of day.

After two days journey, we arrived at Tchong-Wei, on the banks of the

Yellow River, a walled town of moderate size. Its cleanliness, its good

condition, its air of comfort, contrasted singularly with the

wretchedness and ugliness of Ning-Hia; and judging merely from its

innumerable shops, all well stocked, and from the large population

crowding its streets, we should pronounce Tchong-Wei to be a place of

much commercial importance; yet the Chinese of this district have no

notion of navigation, and not a boat is to be seen on the Yellow River in

this quarter--a circumstance remarkable in itself, and confirmatory of

the opinion that the inhabitants of this part of Kan-Sou are of Thibetian

and Tartar origin; for it is well known that the Chinese are everywhere

passionately addicted to navigating streams and rivers.

On quitting Tchong-Wei we passed the Great Wall, which is wholly composed

of uncemented stones, placed one on top of the other; and we re-entered

Tartary, for a few days, in the kingdom of the Alechan. More than once

the Mongol Lamas had depicted in frightful colours the horrors of the

Alechan mountains. We were now in a position to see with our own eyes

that the reality exceeds all description of this frightful district. The

Alechans are a long chain of mountains, wholly composed of moving sand,

so fine, that when you touch it, it seems to flow through your finger

like a liquid. It were superfluous to add that, amid these gigantic

accumulations of sand, you do not find anywhere the least trace of

vegetation. The monotonous aspect of these immense sands is only

relieved by the vestiges of a small insect, that, in its capricious and

fantastical sports, describes a thousand arabesques on the moving mass,

which is so smooth and fine, that you can trace upon it the meanderings

of an ant. In crossing these mountains, we experienced inexpressible

labour and difficulty. At each step our camels sank up to the knees; and

it was only by leaps that they could advance. The horses underwent still

greater difficulties, their hoofs having less purchase on the sand than

the large feet of the camels. As for ourselves, forced to walk, we had

to keep constant watch that we did not fall from the top of these

mountains, which seemed to disappear under our feet, into the Yellow

River, whose waters flowed beneath us. Fortunately, the weather was

calm. If the wind had blown, we should certainly have been swallowed up

and buried alive in avalanches of sand. The Alechan mountains themselves

appear to have been formed by the sand which the north wind incessantly

sweeps before it from the Chamo, or Great Desert of Gobi. The Yellow

River arrests these sandy inundations, and thus preserves the province of

Kan-Sou from their destructive assaults. It is to the great quantity of

sand that falls into it from the Alechan mountains that this river owes

the yellow colour which has given to it its name _Hoang-Ho_ (Yellow

River). Above the Alechan mountains its waters are clear and limpid.

By degrees, hills succeeded to mountains, the sand heaps imperceptibly

diminished, and towards the close of the day we arrived at the village of

Ever-Flowing Waters (_Tchang-Lieou-Chouy_). Here we found, amidst those

sand hills, an oasis of surpassing beauty. A hundred rills disporting

through the streets, trees, little houses built of stone, and painted

white or red, communicated to the spot an aspect highly picturesque.

Weary as we were, we halted at Ever-Flowing Waters with inexpressible

delight; but the poetry of the thing vanished when we came to settle with

our host. Not only provisions but forage came from Tchong-Wei, and the

transport being very difficult, they were dear to a degree that

altogether disconcerted our economical arrangements. For ourselves and

our animals, we were obliged to disburse 1,600 sapeks, a matter of nearly

seven shillings. Only for this circumstance we should perhaps have

quitted with regret the charming village of Tchang-Lieou-Chouy; but there

is always something which intervenes to aid man in detaching himself from

the things of this world.

On quitting Tchang-Lieou-Chouy, we took the road followed by the Chinese

exiles on their way to Ili. The country is somewhat less dreadful than

that which we had travelled through on the preceding day, but it is still

very dismal. Gravel had taken the place of sand, and with the exception

that it produced a few tufts of grass, hard and prickly, the soil was

arid and barren. We reached, in due course, Kao-Tan-Dze, a village

repulsive and hideous beyond all expression. It consists of a few

miserable habitations, rudely constructed of black earth, and all of them

inns. Provisions are even more scarce there than at Ever-Flowing Waters,

and correspondingly dearer. Every thing has to be brought from

Tchong-Wei, for the district produces nothing, not even water. Wells

have been sunk to a very great depth, but nothing has been found except

hard, rocky, moistureless earth. The inhabitants of Kao-Tan-Dze have to

fetch their water a distance of more than twelve miles, and they

accordingly charge travellers a monstrous price for every drop. A single

bucket costs sixty sapeks. Had we attempted to water our camels, we

should have had to lay out fifty fifties of sapeks; we were therefore

forced to be content with drinking ourselves, and giving a draught to our

horses. As to the camels, they had to await better days and a less

inhospitable soil.

Kao-Tan-Dze, miserable and hideous as it is, has not even the advantage

of that tranquillity and security which its poverty and its solitude

might reasonably be supposed to give it. It is constantly ravaged by

brigands, so that there is not a house in it which does not bear the

marks of fire and devastation. At the first inn where we presented

ourselves, we were asked whether we desired to have our animals defended

against robbers. This question threw us into utter amazement, and we

requested further explanation of a point which struck us as so very

singular. We were informed that at Kao-Tan-Dze there are two sorts of

inns: inns where they fight, and inns where they do not fight; and that

the prices at the former sort are four times greater than those at the

latter. This explanation gave us a general notion of the matter; but

still we requested some details. "How!" said the people. "Don't you

know that Kao-Tan-Dze is constantly attacked by brigands?" "Yes, we know

that." "If you lodge in an inn where they don't fight, any brigands that

come will drive off your animals; for no one has undertaken to protect

them. If, on the contrary, you lodge in an inn where they fight, you

have a good chance of preserving your property, unless the brigands are

the more numerous party, which sometimes happens." All this seemed to us

very singular, and very disagreeable. However, it was necessary to make

up our minds on the subject. After grave reflection, we decided upon

lodging in an inn where they fought. It occurred to us that the worthy

innkeepers of Kao-Tan-Dze had an understanding with the brigands, having

for its result the spoliation of travellers, one way or the other, and

that therefore it was better, upon the whole, to pay the larger sum, by

way of black-mail, than to lose our animals, whose loss would involve our

own destruction.

Upon entering the fighting inn, to which we had been directed, we found

every thing about it on a war footing. The walls were regularly covered

with lances, arrows, bows, and matchlocks. The presence of those

weapons, however, by no means rendered us perfectly satisfied as to our

safety, and we resolved not to lie down at all, but to keep watch

throughout the night.

Kao-Tan-Dze, with its robber assailants and its pauper population, was to

us an inexplicable place. We could not conceive how men should make up

their minds to inhabit a detestably ugly country like this, sterile,

waterless, remote from any other inhabited place, and desolated by the

constant inroad of brigands. What could be their object? What possible

advantage could be their inducement? We turned the matter over in all

ways; we framed all sorts of suppositions; but we could achieve no likely

solution of the problem. During the first watch of the night, we

conversed with the innkeeper, who seemed a frank, open sort of man

enough. He related to us infinite anecdotes of brigands, full of battle,

murder, and fire. "But," said we, "why don't you leave this detestable

country?" "Oh," replied he, "we are not free men; the inhabitants of

Kao-Tan-Dze are all exiles, who are only excused from going to Ili on the

condition that we remain here for the purpose of supplying with water the

Mandarins and soldiers who pass through the place, escorting exiles. We

are bound to furnish water gratuitously to all the government officers

who come to the village." When we found that we were among exiles, we

were somewhat reassured, and began to think that, after all, these people

were not in collusion with the brigands; for we learned that a petty

Mandarin lived in the village to superintend the population. We

conceived a hope that we might find some Christians at Kao-Tan-Dze, but

the innkeeper informed us that there were none, for that all exiles on

account of the religion of the Lord of Heaven, went on to Ili.

After what the innkeeper had told us, we conceived that we might, without

risk, take a brief repose; we accordingly threw ourselves on our

goatskins, and slept soundly till daybreak, the favour of God preserving

us from any visit on the part of the brigands.

During the greater part of the day, we proceeded along the road to Ili,

traversing with respect, with a degree of religious veneration, that path

of exile so often sanctified by the footsteps of the confessors of the

faith, and conversing, as we went, about those courageous Christians,

those strong souls, who, rather than renounce their religion, had

abandoned their families and their country, and gone to end their days in

unknown lands. Let us fervently pray that Providence may send

missionaries, full of devotion, to bear the consolations of the faith

amongst these our exiled brethren.

The road to Ili brought us to the Great Wall, which we passed over

without dismounting. This work of the Chinese nation, of which so much

is said and so little known, merits brief mention here. It is known that

the idea of raising walls as a fortification against the incursions of

enemies, was not peculiar, in old times, to China: antiquity presents us

with several examples of these labours elsewhere. Besides the works of

this kind executed in Syria, Egypt, Media, and on the continent of

Europe, there was, by order of the Emperor Septimus Severus, a great wall

constructed in the northern part of Britain. No other nation, however,

ever effected anything of the sort on so grand a scale as the Great Wall,

commenced by Tsin-Chi-Hoang-Ti, A.D. 214. The Chinese call it

_Wan-li-Tchang-Tching_ (the Great Wall of ten thousand lis.) A

prodigious number of labourers was employed upon it, and the works of

this gigantic enterprise continued for ten years. The Great Wall extends

from the westernmost point of Kan-Sou to the Eastern Sea. The importance

of this enormous construction has been variously estimated by those who

have written upon China, some of whom preposterously exaggerate its

importance, while others laboriously seek to ridicule it; the probability

being, that this diversity of opinion arises from each writer having

judged the whole work by the particular specimen to which he had access.

Mr. Barrow, who, in 1793, accompanied Lord Macartney to China, as

historiographer to the British embassy, made this calculation: he

supposed that there were in England and Scotland 1,800,000 houses, and

estimating the masonry work of each to be 2,000 cubic feet, he propounded

that the aggregate did not contain as much material as the Great Wall of

China, which, in his opinion, was enough for the construction of a wall

to go twice round the world. It is evident that Mr. Barrow adopted, as

the basis of his calculation, the Great Wall such as he saw it north of

Peking, where the construction is really grand and imposing; but it is

not to be supposed that this barrier, raised against the irruptions of

the barbarians, is, throughout its extent, equally high, wide, and solid.

We have crossed it at fifteen different points, and on several occasions

have travelled for whole days parallel with it, and never once losing

sight of it; and often, instead of the great double turreted rampart that

exists towards Peking, we have found a mere low wall of brickwork, or

even earth work. In some places, indeed, we have found this famous

barrier reduced to its simplest expression, and composed merely of

flint-stones roughly piled up. As to the foundation wall, described by

Mr. Barrow, as consisting of large masses of free-stone cemented with

mortar, we can only say that we have never discovered the slightest trace

of any such work. It is indeed obvious that Tsin-Chi-Hoang-Ti, in the

execution of this great undertaking, would fortify with especial care the

vicinity of the capital, as being the point to which the Tartar hordes

would first direct their aggressive steps. It is natural, farther, to

conceive, that the Mandarins charged with the execution of the Emperor's

plan, would, with especial conscientiousness, perfect the works which

were more immediately under the Emperor's eye, and content themselves

with erecting a more or less nominal wall at remote points of the empire,

particularly those where the Tartars were little to be feared, as, for

example, the position of the Ortous and the Alechan mountains.

The barrier of San-Yen-Tsin, which stands a few paces beyond the wall, is

noted for its great strictness towards the Tartars who seek to enter

within the intramural empire. The village possesses only one inn, which

is kept by the chief of the frontier guards. Upon entering the

court-yard we found several groups of a camels assembled there belonging

to a great Tartar caravan that had arrived on the preceding evening.

There was, however, plenty of room for us, the establishment being on a

large scale. We had scarcely taken possession of our chamber than the

passport question was started. The chief of the guards himself made an

official demand for them. "We have none," replied we. At this answer

his features beamed with satisfaction, and he declared that we could not

proceed unless we paid a considerable sum. "How! a passport or money?

Know that we have travelled China from one end to the other; that we have

been to Peking, and that we have journeyed through Tartary, without

anything in the shape of a passport, and without having paid a single

sapek in lieu of a passport. You, who are a chief of guards, must know

that Lamas are privileged to travel wherever they please without

passports." "What words are these? Here is a caravan at this very

moment in the house, and the two Lamas who are with it have both given me

their passports like the rest of the party." "If what you say be true,

the only conclusion is that there are some Lamas who take passports with

them and others who do not. We are in the number of those who do not."

Finding at last that the dispute was becoming tedious, we employed a

decisive course. "Well, come," said we, "we will give you the money you

ask, but you shall give us in return a paper signed by yourself, in which

you shall acknowledge that, before you would permit us to pass, you

exacted from us a sum of money instead of passports. We shall then

address ourselves to the first Mandarin we meet, and ask him whether what

you have done is consistent with the laws of the empire." The man at

once gave up the point. "Oh," said he, "since you have been to Peking,

no doubt the Emperor has given you special privileges," and then he

added, in a whisper, and smilingly, "Don't tell the Tartars here that I

have let you pass _gratis_."

It is really pitiable to observe these poor Mongols travelling in China;

everybody thinks himself entitled to fleece them, and everybody succeeds

in doing so to a marvellous extent. In all directions they are

encountered by impromptu custom-house officers, by persons who exact

money from them on all sorts of pretences, for repairing roads, building

bridges, constructing pagodas, etc. etc. First, the despoilers proffer

to render them great services, call them brothers and friends, and give

them wholesale warnings against ill-designing persons who want to rob

them. Should this method not effect an unloosening of the purse-strings,

the rascals have recourse to intimidation, frighten them horribly with

visions of Mandarins, laws, tribunals, prisons, punishments, threaten to

take them up, and treat them, in short, just like mere children. The

Mongols themselves materially aid the imposition by their total ignorance

of the manners and customs of China. At an inn, instead of using the

room offered to them, and putting their animals in the stables, they

pitch their tent in the middle of the court-yard, plant stakes about it,

and fasten their camels to these. Very frequently they are not permitted

to indulge this fancy, and in this case they certainly enter the room

allotted to them, and which they regard in the light of a prison; but

they proceed there in a manner truly ridiculous. They set up their

trivet with their kettle upon it in the middle of the room, and make a

fire beneath with argols, of which they take care to have a store with

them. It is to no purpose they are told that there is in the inn a large

kitchen where they can cook their meals far more comfortably to

themselves; nothing will dissuade them from their own kettle and their

own aboriginal fire in the middle of the room. When night comes they

unroll their hide-carpets round the fire, and there lie down. They would

not listen for a moment to the proposition of sleeping upon the beds or

upon the kang they find in the room ready for their use. The Tartars of

the caravan we found in the inn at San-Yen-Tsin were allowed to carry on

their domestic matters in the open air. The simplicity of these poor

children of the desert was so great that they seriously asked us whether

the innkeeper would make them pay anything for the accommodation he

afforded them.

We continued on our way through the province of Kan-Sou, proceeding to

the south-west. The country, intersected with streams and hills, is

generally fine, and the people apparently well off. The great variety of

its productions is owing partly to a temperate climate and a soil

naturally fertile, but, above all, to the activity and skill of the

agriculturists. The chief product of the district is wheat, of which the

people make excellent loaves, like those of Europe. They sow scarcely

any rice, procuring almost all the little they consume from the adjacent

provinces. Their goats and sheep are of fine breed, and constitute, with

bread, the principal food of the population. Numerous and inexhaustible

mines of coal place fuel within everyone's reach. It appeared to us that

in Kan-Sou anyone might live very comfortably at extremely small cost.

At two days distance from the barrier of San-Yen-Tsin we were assailed by

a hurricane which exposed us to very serious danger. It was about ten

o'clock in the morning. We had just crossed a hill, and were entering

upon a plain of vast extent, when, all of a sudden, a profound calm

pervaded the atmosphere. There was not the slightest motion in the air,

and yet the cold was intense. Insensibly, the sky assumed a dead-white

colour; but there was not a cloud to be seen. Soon, the wind began to

blow from the west; in a very short time it became so violent that our

animals could scarcely proceed. All nature seemed to be in a state of

dissolution. The sky, still cloudless, was covered with a red tint. The

fury of the wind increased; it raised in the air enormous columns of

dust, sand, and decayed vegetable matter, which it then dashed right and

left, here, there, and everywhere. At length the wind blew so

tremendously, and the atmosphere became so utterly disorganised, that, at

midday, we could not distinguish the very animals upon which we were

riding. We dismounted, for it was impossible to advance a single step,

and after enveloping our faces in handkerchiefs in order that we might

not be blinded with the dust, we sat down beside our animals. We had no

notion where we were; our only idea was that the frame of the world was

unloosening, and that the end of all things was close at hand. This

lasted for more than an hour. When the wind had somewhat mitigated, and

we could see around us, we found that we were all separated from one

another, and at considerable distances, for amid that frightful tempest,

bawl as loud as we might, we could not hear each other's voices. So soon

as we could at all walk we proceeded towards a farm at no great distance,

but which we had not before perceived. The hurricane having thrown down

the great gate of the court we found no difficulty in entering, and the

house itself was opened to us with almost equal facility; for Providence

had guided us in our distress to a family truly remarkable for its

hospitality.

Immediately upon our arrival, our hosts heated some water for us to wash

with. We were in a frightful state; from head to foot we were covered

with dust which had saturated, so to speak, our clothes and almost our

skins. Had such a storm encountered us on the Alechan mountains, we

should have been buried alive in the sand, and all trace of us lost for

ever.

When we found that the worst of the storm was over, and that the wind had

subsided to occasional gusts, we proposed to proceed, but our kind hosts

would not hear of this; they said they would lodge us for the night, and

that our animals should have plenty of food and water. Their invitation

was so sincere and so cordial, and we so greatly needed rest, that we

readily availed ourselves of their offer.

A very slight observation of the inhabitants of Kan-Sou, will satisfy one

that they are not of purely Chinese origin. The Tartaro-Thibetian

element is manifestly predominant amongst them; and it displays itself

with especial emphasis in the character, manners, and language of the

country people. You do not find amongst them the exaggerated politeness

which distinguishes the Chinese; but, on the other hand, they are

remarkable for their open-heartedness and hospitality. In their

particular form of Chinese you hear an infinitude of expressions which

belong to the Tartar and Thibetian tongues. The construction of their

phrases, instead of following the Chinese arrangement, always exhibits

the inversions in use among the Mongols. Thus, for example, they don't

say, with the Chinese, open the door, shut the window; but, the door

open, the window shut. Another peculiarity is that milk, butter, curds,

all insupportably odious to a Chinese, are especially favourite food with

the inhabitants of Kan-Sou. But it is, above all, their religious turn

of mind which distinguishes them from the Chinese, a people almost

universally sceptical and indifferent as to religious matters. In

Kan-Sou there are numerous and flourishing Lamaseries in which reformed

Buddhism is followed. The Chinese, indeed, have plenty of pagodas and

idols of all sorts and sizes in their houses; but with them religion is

limited to this external representation, whereas in Kan-Sou everyone

prays often and long and fervently. Now prayer, as everyone knows, is

that which distinguishes the religious from the irreligious man.

Besides differing materially from the other peoples of China, the

inhabitants of Kan-Sou differ materially amongst themselves, the

Dchiahours marking that sub-division, perhaps, more distinctly than any

of the other tribes. They occupy the country commonly called

_San-Tchouan_ (Three Valleys), the birthplace of our cameleer

Samdadchiemba. The Dchiahours possess all the knavery and cunning of the

Chinese, without any of their courtesy, and without their polished form

of language, and they are accordingly feared and disliked by all their

neighbours. When they consider themselves in any way injured or

insulted, they have immediate recourse to the dagger, by way of remedy.

With them the man most to be honoured is he who has committed the

greatest number of murders. They have a language of their own, a medley

of Mongol, Chinese, and Eastern Thibetian. According to their own

account, they are of Tartar origin. If it be so, they may fairly claim

to have preserved, in all its integrity, the ferocious and independent

character of their ancestors, whereas the present occupiers of Mongolia

have greatly modified and softened their manners.

Though subject to the Emperor of China, the Dchiahours are immediately

governed by a sort of hereditary sovereign belonging to their tribe, and

who bears the title of Tou-Sse. There are in Kan-Sou, and on the

frontiers of the province of Sse-Tchouan, several other tribes, having

their own special rulers and their own especial laws. All these tribes

are called Tou-Sse, to which each adds, by way of distinction, the family

name of its chief or sovereign. Samdadchiemba, for example, belonged to

the Ki-Tou-Sse tribe of Dchiahours. Yang-Tou-Sse is the most celebrated

and the most redoubtable of all these tribes, and for a long time

exercised great influence at Lha-Ssa, the capital of Thibet, but this

influence was destroyed in 1845, in consequence of an event which we

shall relate by-and-by.

After thoroughly resting from our fatigue, we departed early next

morning. Everywhere, on our way, we saw traces of the tempest, in trees

uprooted and torn, houses unroofed, fields devastated and almost entirely

deprived of their surface soil. Before the end of the day, we arrived at

Tchoang-Long, more commonly called Ping-Fang, an ordinary town, with a

tolerable amount of trade, but in no way noticeable, whether for its

beauty or for its deformity. We went to lodge at the Hotel of the Three

Social Relations (_San-Kan-Tien_), whose landlord was one of the best

humoured and most amusing persons we had hitherto met with. He was a

thorough Chinese: to give us a proof of his sagacity, he asked us, point

blank, whether we were not English; and that we might thoroughly

understand his question, he added that he understood by Ing-Kie-Li, the

sea-devils (_Yang-Kouei-Dze_) who were making war at Canton. "No, we are

not English; nor are we devils of any sort, whether of sea or land." An

idler who was standing by, interposed to prevent the ill effect of this

awkward question. "You," said he to the innkeeper, "you know nothing of

physiognomy. How could you suppose that these people are Yang-Kouei-Dze?

Don't you know that they have all blue eyes and red hair?" "You're

right," returned the host, "I had not thought of that." "No," said we,

"clearly you had not thought at all. Do you suppose that sea-monsters

could live as we do, on land, and ride on horses?" "You're right, quite

so; the Ing-Kie-Li, they say, never venture to quit the sea, for when

they're on land they tremble and die like fish out of water." We were

favoured with a good deal more information of the same class, respecting

the manners and characters of the sea-devils, the up-shot of which, so

far as we were concerned, was the full admission that we did not belong

to the same race.

A little before night, an immense bustle pervaded the inn. A Living

Buddha had arrived, with a numerous train, on his return from a journey

into Thibet, his native country, to the grand Lamasery, of which for many

years he had been the superior, and which was situated in the country of

the Khalkhas, towards the Russian frontier. As he entered the inn, a

multitude of zealous Buddhists, who had been awaiting him in the great

courtyard, prostrated themselves before him, their faces to the ground.

The Grand Lama proceeded to the apartment which had been prepared for

him, and night coming, the crowd withdrew. When the inn had become

tolerably clear, this strange personage gave full play to his curiosity;

he poked about all over the inn, going into every room, and asking

everybody all sorts of questions, without sitting down or staying

anywhere. As we expected, he favoured us also with a visit. When he

entered our chamber, we were gravely seated on the kang; we studiously

abstained from rising at his entrance, and contented ourselves with

welcoming him by a motion of our hands. He seemed rather surprised at

this unceremonious reception, but not at all disconcerted, Standing in

the middle of the room, he stared at each of us intently, one after the

other. We, like himself, preserving entire silence all the while,

exercised the privilege of which he had set us the example, and examined

him closely. Be seemed about fifty years old; he was enveloped in a

great robe of yellow taffeta, and he wore red velvet Thibetian boots,

with remarkably thick soles. He was of the middle height, and

comfortably stout; his dark brown face denoted extreme good nature, but

there was in his eyes, when you attentively examined them, a strange,

wild, haggard expression, that was very alarming. At length he addressed

us in the Mongol tongue, which he spoke with great facility. In the

first instance, the conversation was nothing more than the ordinary

phrases exchanged between travellers, about one another's health,

destination, horses, the weather, and so on. When we found him

prolonging his visit, we invited him to sit down beside us on the kang;

he hesitated for a moment, conceiving, no doubt, that in his quality as

Living Buddha, it did not become him to place himself on a level with

mere mortals like ourselves. However, as he had a great desire for a

chat, he at last made up his mind to sit down, and in fact he could not,

without compromising his dignity, remain any longer standing while we

sat.

A Breviary that lay on a small table beside us, immediately attracted his

attention, and he asked permission to examine it. Upon our assenting, he

took it up with both hands, admired the binding and the gilt edges,

opened it and turned over the leaves, and then closing it again, raised

it reverentially to his forehead, saying, "It is your Book of Prayer: we

should always honour and respect prayer." By-and-by he added, "Your

religion and ours are like this," and so saying he put the knuckles of

his two forefingers together. "Yes," said we, "you are right; your creed

and ours are in a state of hostility, and we do not conceal from you that

the object of our journey and of our labours is to substitute our prayers

for those which are used in your Lamaseries." "I know that," he replied,

smilingly; "I knew that long ago." He then took up the Breviary again,

and asked us explanations of the engravings. He evinced no surprise at

what we told him, only, when we had related to him the subject of the

plate representing the crucifixion, he shook his head compassionately,

and raised his joined hands to his head. After he had examined all the

prints, he took the Breviary once more in both hands, and raised it

respectfully to his forehead. He then rose, and having saluted us with

great affability, withdrew, we escorting him to the door.

Upon being left alone, we felt for a moment stupified as it were at this

singular visit. We tried to conceive what thoughts could have filled the

mind of the Living Buddha as he sat there beside us, and what impression

he had derived from the sketch we gave him of our holy religion. Now, it

seemed to us that strange feelings must have arisen in his heart; and

then again, we imagined that after all he had felt nothing whatever, but

that, a mere ordinary person, he had mechanically availed himself of his

position, without reflection, and without himself attaching any real

importance to his pretended divinity. We became so interested in the

point, that we determined to see this personage once more before we

departed. As that departure was fixed for an early hour next morning, we

went, accordingly, to return his visit before we slept. We found him in

his apartment, seated on thick large cushions, covered with magnificent

tiger-skins; before him stood, on a small lacquer table, a silver

tea-pot, and a steatite cup in a richly-worked gold saucer. He was

evidently in the last stage of ennui, and was correspondingly delighted

to see us. For fear he should take it into his head to let us remain

standing, we proceeded, upon entering the room, to seat ourselves beside

him. His suite, who were assembled in a contiguous room, which opened

into their principal's, were extremely shocked at this familiarity, and

gave utterance to a murmur of disapprobation. The Buddha himself,

however, who passed over the circumstance with a half-angry smile, rang a

silver bell, and desired a young Lama, who obeyed the summons, to bring

us some tea with milk. "I have often seen your countrymen," said he; "my

Lamasery stands at no great distance from your native land; the _Oros_

(Russians) often pass the frontier, but I have never known any of them

before to advance so far as you." "We are not Russians," said we; "our

country is a long way from Russia." This answer seemed to surprise the

Buddha; he looked at us closely for some time, and then said, "From what

country come you, then?" "We are from the Western Heaven." "Oh! you are

Peling, {285} of _Dchou-Ganga_ (Eastern Ganges), and your city is Galgata

(Calcutta)." The notions of the Living Buddha, it is observable, though

not exactly correct, were not altogether destitute of meaning; he could

of course only class us among the peoples who were known to him, and in

supposing us first Russians and then English, he manifested an

acquaintance with geographical terms, by no means contemptible under the

circumstances. He would not be persuaded, however, that we were not

either Oros or Peling of Galgata. "But after all," said he, "what

matters it from what country we come, since we are all brothers? Only

let me advise you, while you are in China, to be cautious not to tell

everybody who you are. The Chinese are a suspicious and ill-conditioned

race, and they might do you a mischief." He then talked to us about

Thibet, and the dreadful road thither that we should have to traverse.

Judging from our appearance, he said, he doubted very much whether we

were strong enough for the undertaking. The words and the manner of the

Grand Lama were perfectly affable and kind, but there was a look in his

eyes to which we could not reconcile ourselves. We seemed to read there

something infernal, fiend-like. But for this circumstance, which perhaps

after all was mere fancy on our part, we should have esteemed our Grand

Lama friend a most amiable personage.

From Tchoang-Long, or Ping-Fang, we proceeded to Ho-Kiao-Y, or, as it is

named on the maps, Tai-Toung-Fou. The latter is the ancient denomination

of the place, and is no longer in popular use. The road was, throughout,

covered with oxen, asses, and small carts, all with loads of coal. We

resolved to sojourn for a few days at Ho-Kiao-Y, for the purpose of

giving rest to our animals, whose strength had become almost exhausted;

the horse and the mule, in particular, had tumours on their sides,

occasioned by the constant rubbing of the saddle, and it was essential to

have these cured before we proceeded further. Having formed this

project, our next business was to inspect all the inns in the place, for

the purpose of selecting as our abode that which presented the most

favourable indications, and the Hotel of the Temperate Climates was

ultimately honoured with our choice.

Ever since our entry into the province of Kan-Sou, not a day had passed

in which Samdadchiemba had not enlarged upon the subject of the Three

Valleys and the Dchiahours. Though there was no very immense amount of

sentiment about him, he had a great desire to revisit his native place,

and to see once more any members of his family who might happen to be

surviving there. We could not do otherwise than aid so laudable a

purpose; accordingly, when we were established in the Hotel of the

Temperate Climates, we granted to our cameleer eight days' leave of

absence, wherein to revisit his so long abandoned home. Eight days

appeared to him fully sufficient for the purpose: two to go in, two to

come back in, and four to be spent in the bosom of his family, relating

to them all the marvels he had witnessed abroad. We allowed him the use

of a camel, that he might appear among his friends with the greater

distinction; and five ounces of silver which we placed in his purse

completed his recommendations to a favourable reception.

While awaiting the return of our Dchiahour, we were exclusively occupied

in taking care of our animals, and of ourselves. Every day we had to go

into the town to buy our provisions, then to cook them, and, morning and

evening, to water our cattle at some distance from the inn. The master

of the house was one of those good-natured persons who, in their very

eagerness to oblige, become troublesome; and whose amiability of

intention scarcely induces one to pardon their importunity of attention.

The worthy man was incessantly thrusting himself into our room, to give

us advice how we ought to do this, that, and the other. After altering

the position of everything in the chamber according to his fancy for the

moment, he would go up to the furnace, take off the lid of the saucepan,

dip his finger into the ragout, and licking it to see how the mess was

going on, add salt or ginger, or other condiment, to the infinite

annoyance of M. Huc, who was officially charged with the cooking

department. At other times he would loudly protest that we knew nothing

about making up a fire, that the coals ought to be laid so, and the wood

so, and that a draught of air ought to be kept up in this or that

direction; and thereupon he would take up the tongs and overturn our

fire, to the immense discomfiture of M. Gabet, who presided over that

department. At night he appeared to consider himself especially

indispensable, and would skip in every quarter of an hour to see that the

lamp was burning properly, and that the wick was long enough, or short

enough, and what not. At times he had really the air of asking us how it

was possible that we had contrived to live without him, the one of us up

to thirty-two years of age, the other up to thirty-seven. However, among

the exuberance of attentions with which he bored us, there was one which

we readily accepted; it was in the matter of warming our beds, the

process of which was so singular, so peculiar, that we had never had the

opportunity elsewhere of observing it.

The kang, a species of furnace on which you lie, is not in Kan-Sou

constructed altogether of brickwork, as is the case in Northern China,

but the upper flooring consists of moveable planks, placed closely beside

one another. When they want to heat the kang for sleeping purposes, they

remove the planks, and strew the interior of the kang with horse-dung,

quite dry and pulverised. Over this combustible they throw some lighted

cinders, and then replace the planks; the fire immediately communicates

itself to the dung, which, once lighted, continues to smoulder; the heat

and the smoke, having no exit, soon warm the planks, and this produces a

tepid temperature which, in consequence of the slow combustion of the

material, prevails throughout the night. The talent of the kang-heater

consists in putting neither too much nor too little dung, in strewing it

properly, and in so arranging the cinders that combustion shall commence

at different points in the same moment of time, in order that all the

planks may equally benefit by the warmth. Ashamed to have our bed warmed

for us like children, we one night essayed to perform this service for

ourselves, but the result was by no means happy, for while one of us was

nearly broiled to death, the other trembled with cold all night long; the

fact being, that owing to our want of skill, the fire had actually caught

the planks on one side of the kang, while on the other the fuel had not

lighted at all. The host of the Hotel of the Temperate Climates was

naturally disgusted at the mischance, and in order to prevent its

recurrence, he locked the closing plank of the furnace, and himself came

every time to light it.

Our various domestic occupations, and the recitation of our Breviary,

passed away the time very smoothly at Ho-Kiao-Y. On the eighth day, as

had been agreed, Samdadchiemba returned, but not alone; he was

accompanied by a lad, whose features bespoke him a brother of our

cameleer, and as such Samdadchiemba presented him to us. Our first

interview was very brief, for the two Dchiahours had scarcely presented

themselves before they disappeared. We imagined, at first, that they

were gone to pay their respects to the host, but it was not so, for they

almost immediately re-appeared with somewhat more solemnity of manner

than before. Samdadchiemba marched in first: "Babdcho," said he to his

brother, "prostrate thyself before our masters, and present to them the

offerings of our poor family." The younger Dchiahour made us three

salutations in the Oriental fashion, and then laid before us two great

dishes, one of them full of fine nuts, the other laden with three large

loaves, in form resembling those made in France. To afford Samdadchiemba

the most practical proof in our power that we were sensible to his

attention, we forthwith applied ourselves to one of the loaves, which,

with some of the nuts, constituted quite a delicious repast, for never

since our departure from France had we tasted such excellent bread.

While engaged upon our banquet, we observed that the costume of

Samdadchiemba was reduced to its simplest expression; that whereas he had

gone decently attired, he had come back half-covered with a few rags. We

asked for an explanation of this change, whereupon he gave us an account

of the miserable condition in which he had found his family. The father

had been dead for some time; his aged mother had become blind, so that

she had not enjoyed the happiness of seeing him. He had two brothers,

the one a mere child, the other the young man whom he had brought with

him, and who, the sole support of the family, devoted his time to the

cultivation of a small field which still belonged to them, and to the

tending the flocks of other people for hire. This narrative at once

explained what Samdadchiemba had done with his clothes; he had given them

all to his poor old mother, without even excepting his travelling cloak.

We thought it our duty to propose that he should remain, and devote

himself to the assistance of his wretched family; but he did not at all

adopt the suggestion. "What," said he, "could I have the cruelty to do

such a thing as that! Could I ever think of going to devour the little

substance that remains to them? They can scarcely subsist themselves:

how could they possibly support me; for I myself have no means of making

a livelihood there--I cannot labour at the soil, and there is no other

way in which I could help them." We considered this resolution neither

good nor great; but knowing, as we did, the character of Samdadchiemba,

it in no degree surprised us. We did not insist upon his remaining, for

we were even better convinced than he himself was, that he could be of no

sort of service to his family. We did all we could ourselves to aid

these poor people, by giving Samdadchiemba's brother as large an alms as

we could spare; and we then proceeded to the preparations for our

departure.

During these eight days of repose, the condition of our animals had so

improved as to enable us to venture upon the difficult road we had to

traverse. The next day after quitting Ho-Kiao-Y, we began the ascent of

the high mountain called Ping-Keou, the terribly rugged paths of which

interposed almost insurmountable difficulties in the way of our camels.

On the ascent, we were obliged to be constantly calling out, at the pitch

of our voices, in order to warn any muleteers who might be coming down

the road, which was so narrow and dangerous that two animals could not

pass each other abreast. Our cries were to enable any persons coming the

other way to lead their mules aside, so that they might not take alarm at

the sight of our camels, and dash over the precipice. We began the

ascent of this mountain before daybreak, and yet it was noon before we

reached its summit. There we found a little inn, where, under the

denomination of tea, they sold a decoction of burned beans. We stopped

at this place for a brief period to take a repast, which hunger rendered

very succulent and savoury, of some nuts and a slice of the famous bread

which the Dchiahour had brought us, and which we expended with the utmost

parsimony. A draught of cold water should have been, according to our

previous plan, the complement of our feast; but the only water attainable

on this mountain was affected with an insupportable stench. We were

fain, therefore, to have recourse to the decoction of baked beans, a

dreadfully insipid fluid, but for which, notwithstanding, we were charged

extortionately.

The cold was by no means so severe as we had expected from the season of

the year and the great elevation of the mountain. In the afternoon,

indeed, the weather was quite mild; by-and-by, the sky was overcast, and

snow fell. As we were obliged to descend the mountain on foot, we soon

got absolutely hot, in the perpetual struggle, of a very laborious kind,

to keep from rolling down the slippery path. One of our camels fell

twice, but happily in each instance he was stayed by a rock from tumbling

over the mountain's side.

Having placed behind us the formidable Ping-Keou, we took up our lodging

in the village of the Old Duck (_Lao-Ya-Pou_). Here we found a system of

heating in operation different from that of Ho-Kiao-Y. The kangs here

are warmed, not with dried horse-dung, but with coal-dust, reduced to

paste, and then formed into bricks; turf is also used for the purpose.

We had hitherto imagined that knitting was unknown in China; the village

of the Old Duck removed this misconception from our minds, and enabled

us, indeed, to remove it from the minds of the Chinese themselves in

other parts of the empire. We found here in every street men, not women,

occupied in this species of industry. Their productions are wholly

without taste or delicacy of execution; they merely knit coarse cotton

into shapeless stockings, like sacks, or sometimes gloves, without any

separation for the fingers, and merely a place for the thumb, the

knitting needles being small canes of bamboo. It was for us a singular

spectacle to see parties of moustachioed men sitting before the door of

their houses in the sun, knitting, sewing, and chattering like so many

female gossips; it looked quite like a burlesque upon the manners of

Europe.

From Lao-Ya-Pou to Si-Ning-Fou was five days march; on the second day we

passed through Ning-Pey-Hien, a town of the third order. Outside the

western gate, we stopped at an inn to take our morning meal; a great many

travellers were already assembled in the large kitchen, occupying the

tables which were ranged along the walls; in the centre of the room were

several furnaces, where the innkeeper, his wife, several children, and

some servants were actively preparing the dishes required by the guests.

While every body seemed occupied, either in the preparation or in the

consumption of victuals, a loud cry was heard. It was the hostess, thus

expressing the pain occasioned by a knock on her head, which the husband

had administered with a shovel. At the cry, all the travellers looked in

the direction whence it proceeded; the woman retreated, with vehement

vociferations, to a corner of the kitchen; the innkeeper explained to the

company that he had been compelled to correct his wife for insolence,

insubordination, and an indifference to the interests of the

establishment, which eminently compromised its prosperity. Before he had

finished his version of the story, the wife, from her retreat in the

corner, commenced her's; she informed the company that her husband was an

idle vagabond, who passed his time in drinking and smoking, expending the

result of her labours for a whole month in a few days of brandy and

tobacco. During this extempore performance, the audience remained

imperturbably calm, giving not the smallest indication of approbation or

disapprobation. At length the wife issued from her retreat, and advanced

with a sort of challenging air to the husband: "Since I am a wicked

woman," cried she, "you must kill me. Come, kill me!" and so saying, she

drew herself up with a gesture of vast dramatic dignity immediately in

front of the husband. The latter did not adopt the suggestion to kill

her, but he gave her a formidable box on the ear, which sent her back,

screaming at the pitch of her voice, into her previous corner. Hereupon,

the audience burst into loud laughter; but the affair, which seemed to

them so diverting, soon took a very serious turn. After the most

terrible abuse on the one hand, and the most awful threats on the other,

the innkeeper at length drew his girdle tight about his waist, and

twisted his tress of hair about his head, in token of some decided

proceeding. "Since you will have me kill you," cried he, "I will kill

you!" and so saying, he took from the furnace a pair of long iron tongs,

and rushed furiously upon his wife. Everybody at once rose and shouted;

the neighbours ran in, and all present endeavoured to separate the

combatants, but they did not effect the object until the woman's face was

covered with blood, and her hair was all down about her shoulders. Then

a man of ripe years, who seemed to exercise some authority in the house,

gravely pronounced these words by way of epilogue: "How! what!" said he,

"husband and wife fighting thus! and in presence of their children, in

presence of a crowd of travellers!" These words, repeated three or four

times, in a tone which expressed at once indignation and authority, had a

marvellous effect. Almost immediately afterwards the guests resumed

their dinner, the hostess fried cakes in nut-oil, and the host silently

smoked his pipe.

When we were about to depart, the innkeeper, in summing up our account,

coolly inserted fifty sapeks for the animals which we had tied up in the

court-yard during our meal. He had evidently an idea of making us pay

_en Tartare_. Samdadchiemba was indignant. "Do you think," asked he,

"that we Dchiahours don't know the rules of inns? Where did you ever

hear of making people pay for fastening their animals to a peg in the

wall? Tell me, master publican, how many sapeks are you going to charge

us for the comedy we've just witnessed of the innkeeper and his wife?"

The burst of laughter on the part of the bystanders which hailed this

sarcasm carried the day triumphantly for Samdadchiemba, and we departed

without paying anything beyond our personal expenses.

The road thence to Si-Ning-Fou, generally well made and well kept,

meanders through a fertile and well cultivated country, picturesquely

diversified by trees, hills, and numerous streams. Tobacco is the staple

of the district. We saw on our way several water-mills, remarkable for

their simplicity, as is the case with all Chinese works. In these mills,

the upper story is stationary, while the lower is turned by means of a

single wheel, kept in motion by the current. To work these mills, though

they are frequently of large proportions, a very small stream suffices,

as the stream plays upon the wheel in the form of a cascade, at least

twenty feet high.

On the day before arriving at Si-Ning-Fou, we passed over a road

extremely laborious, and so dangerously rugged that it suggested frequent

recommendations of ourselves to the protection of the Divine Providence.

Our course was amid enormous rocks, beside a deep, fierce current, the

tumultuous waves of which roared beneath us. There was the gulf

perpetually yawning to swallow us up, should we make but one false step;

we trembled, above all, for our camels, awkward and lumbering as they

were, whenever they had to pass over an uneven road. At length, thanks

to the goodness of God, we arrived without accident at Si-Ning. The town

is of very large extent, but its population is limited, and itself, in

several parts, is falling into absolute decay. The history of the matter

is, that its commerce has been in great measure intercepted by

Tang-Keou-Eul, a small town on the banks of the Keou-Ho, the frontier

which separates Kan-Sou from Koukou-Noor.

It is the custom, we may say the rule, at Si-Ning-Fou, not to receive

strangers, such as the Tartars, Thibetians, and others, into the inns,

but to relegate them to establishments called Houses of Repose

(_Sie-Kia_), into which no other travellers are admitted. We proceeded

accordingly to one of these Houses of Repose, where we were exceedingly

well entertained. The Sie-Kia differ from other inns in this important

particular, that the guests are boarded, lodged, and served there

gratuitously. Commerce being the leading object of travellers hither,

the chiefs of the Sie-Kia indemnify themselves for their outlay by a

recognised per centage upon all the goods which their guests buy or sell.

The persons who keep these Houses of Repose have first to procure a

license from the authorities of the town, for which they pay a certain

sum, greater or less, according to the character of the commercial men

who are expected to frequent the house. In outward show, the guests are

well-treated, but still they are quite at the mercy of the landlords,

who, having an understanding with the traders of the town, manage to make

money of both parties.

When we, indeed, departed from Si-Ning-Fou, the Sie-Kia with whom we had

lodged had made nothing by us in the ordinary way, for we had neither

bought nor sold anything. However, as it would have been preposterous

and unjust on our part to have lived thus at the expense of our

neighbours, we paid the host of the House of Repose for what we had had,

at the ordinary tavern rate.

After crossing several torrents, ascending many rocky hills, and twice

passing the Great Wall, we arrived at Tang-Keou-Eul. It was now January,

and nearly four months had elapsed since our departure from the Valley of

Dark Waters. Tang-Keou-Eul is a small town, but very populous, very

animated, and very full of business. It is a regular tower of Babel,

wherein you find collected Eastern Thibetians, _Houng-Mao-Eul_

(Long-haired Folk), Eleuts, Kolos, Chinese, Tartars from the Blue Sea,

and Mussulmans, descended from the ancient migrations from Turkestan.

Everything in the town bears the impress of violence. Nobody walks the

streets without a great sabre at his side, and without affecting, at

least, a fierce determination to use it on the shortest notice. Not an

hour passes without some street combat.

[Picture: The Jin Seng, a medicinal root of China]

NOTES.

{11} Notwithstanding the slight importance of the Tartar tribes, we

shall give them the name of kingdoms, because the chiefs of these tribes

are called _Wang_ (King.)

{12} Sixth Emperor of the Tartar-Mantchou dynasty. He died in the year

1849.

{16} The Chinese _Li_ is about equivalent to the quarter of an English

mile.

{23} Dried dung, which constitutes the chief, and indeed in many places

the sole fuel in Tartary.

{35} With the exception of a very few inaccuracies, this map of the

Chinese empire is a most excellent one. We found it of the most valuable

aid throughout our journey.--Huc.

An English version of the map is prefixed to this volume.--ED.

{43} The English, then at war with the Chinese, were designated by the

Tartars the _Rebels of the South_.

{51} "Voyage a Peking, a travers la Mongolie, par M. G. Timkouski,"

chap. ii., p. 57.

{93} The anecdote, which we give as we heard it, must have reference to

Tchun-Tche's father, who died immediately after the conquest. Tchun-Tche

himself was only four years old at the time.

{105} The Chinese designate them San Pao; the Mantchous, Ilan Baobai;

the Mongols, Korban erdeni; and the Thibetians, Tchok-Soum.

{116} The Fathers Jesuits introduced the use of Arabic numerals into the

Observatory at Peking.

{141} The bed of the Yellow River has undergone numerous and notable

variations. In ancient times, its mouth was situated in the Gulf of

Pe-Tchi-Li, in latitude 39. At present it is in the 34th parallel,

twenty-five leagues from the primitive point. The Chinese government is

compelled annually to expend enormous sums in keeping the river within

its bed and preventing inundations. In 1779, the embankment for this

purpose cost no less a sum than 1,600,000 pounds. Yet, despite these

precautions, inundations are of frequent occurrence; for the bed of the

Yellow River, in the provinces of Ho-Nan and Kiang-Sou, is higher for 200

leagues than the plain through which it passes. This bed, continuing to

rise, with the quantity of mud deposited, there is inevitably impending,

at no remote period, an awful catastrophe, involving in death and

desolation all the adjacent district.

{170} Barains is a Principality situated north of Peking. It is one of

the most celebrated in Mongol Tartary.

{218a} Gen. xxix., 1-3.

{218b} Gen. xxiv., 19, 20.

{259} This compilation was made in the fourteenth century, by order of

Pope John XXII.

{273} At this period there was no French embassy in China, and no treaty

in favour of Europeans. All missionaries, therefore, who penetrated into

the interior, were, _ipso facto_, liable to be put to death.

{285} The Thibetians call the English in Hindostan, Peling, a word

signifying stranger, and equivalent to the Chinese y-jin, which the

Europeans translate, barbarian, probably with the notion of flattering

their self-love by the implied contrast.