Travelling at the third-class mountain rate of two-thirds of a cent a mile, Richardson was sharing his small compartment on a Chinese train with a dozen coolies—on his way to Tai Yuam Fu. From Peking he had made a trip to the Ming tombs and had also visited the Great Wall with a party of American tourists. He was now on his way into the interior of Shansi Province to visit some college friends who were missionaries at a small town called Fen Chow Fu. The mission station was conducted by the American Board of the Congregational Church. Richardson went from Peking to Tchang Te Fou, a distance of one hundred and seventy miles, by train. This city was where the Russian artist and I had our trouble with the Chinese beggars. From this place Richardson took a branch line to Tai Yuan Fu, about two hundred miles west, where he spent the night as the guest of a young Britisher who was a Cambridge University graduate and was then doing medical missionary work. Tai Yuan Fu was the terminal of the railroad and Richardson had to complete his journey to the mission station by cart. This Chinese vehicle had been sent to meet him by his missionary friends.
In giving me an account of this eighty-mile Chinese cart trip, which required three days, Richardson told me that in order to appreciate his experiences I must keep in mind four facts. These were: first, a Chinese cart has neither springs nor cushions; second, Chinese country roads are simply two deep parallel ruts or grooves, made by the wheels of carts (these roads are never graded and in places the ruts are two or three feet deep); third, the portion of the road between the ruts was lined with rocks and boulders of every description and size; and fourth, it rained steadily the three days of his journey. He stated that, by putting these facts together and adding a liberal allowance of imagination, I could get some idea of a cart trip in China.
Crossing a Chinese Country Bridge
The Inn Where Richardson Put up for a Night
This uncomfortable vehicle was drawn by two mules, hitched tandem, and not once during the eighty miles did they get off a walk. An Arkansas train was a comet in comparison. Richardson's attendants were a driver and a servant, whom the mission station had sent. They could not speak English. For three days my friend was slowly hauled over hills and valleys in this primitive conveyance. At times he thought his insides would be shaken to a hopeless mass; his head was snapped about until there was grave doubt in his mind as to whether it would stay on throughout the journey and he was so roughly tossed about that he thought he would be lame for the rest of his life. He would ride a couple of hours, about as long as he could stand it at one time, and then get out and walk in the rain for an equal period.
At night and at noon-time he stopped at Chinese inns. "Inn" is a misnomer, however. The Chinese country inn is a stable-yard filled with mules, donkeys, dogs, pigs, chickens, babies and smells. This yard is surrounded by a long one-story building in which are the sleeping rooms, kitchens and eating compartments. All the rooms in an inn open on the yard and with their doorless entrances extend a hearty welcome to the numerous odours. Chinese hotels can be located by their characteristic odour.