SUMMIT OF MOUNT OMI
I established myself in a sunny nook under the temple eaves, and sent for hot water with which to sketch the neighbouring crag of the “10,000 Buddhas.” After lunch I sketched the interior of the Buddha shrine with all its gaudy, squalid trappings, a harmony in reds. I was amazed to see the brevity of the worshippers’ prayers; owing, I think, to their fear of my introducing them into the sketch. The three figures of the Buddha were behind a large red curtain, in which were openings through which they could be dimly discerned. We went back to our former quarters for the night, but had very little rest, as the coolies went in for a night of revelry, in which we felt sure the monks shared, although our suggestion to that effect next day was vehemently repudiated. The descent of the mountain we found extremely arduous, despite our being shod with straw sandals and having the support of our pilgrim sticks; it was dreadfully slippery, and for six and a half hours we toiled steadily down flights of steps, or glissaded down them on our backs. We calculated the distance as not much less than twelve miles. The stiffness produced was not quite so bad as I had anticipated, but it makes you feel extremely foolish to have to watch each step you take in order to be sure that your feet are obeying your bidding. Then you see the coolies pick up the chairs and carry you for another three hours after you are dead beat as if they had done nothing. We spent the night at a clean new inn about three miles from the town of Omi, and for the first time we occupied an upstairs bedroom in a Chinese house. After this occasion we always used to try and secure one, but our stiffness then made it extremely painful to get up the steep staircase. It was like mounting into a loft, and was a very pleasant variety from any inn we had yet encountered.
The following morning we made an early start, so as to have a little time in Kiating to collect our belongings and go on board a boat to take us to Sui Fu. Our temper was sorely tried by the delay of our men and the changing of some of them at Omi Hsien, which delayed us about an hour. By dint of offering extra pay, however, we made up some time, and came upon an interesting sight to beguile us on the way—namely, cormorants and an otter fishing. When we got to the Tong River—the third river that we saw at the base of the mountain—we were rowed down to Kiating, a distance of some four miles. We were curious to see what the coolies would pay for the boat journey, as they had arranged the matter. For the four chairs and the eighteen people, the whole cost was thirty cash—namely, three farthings. We got back to Kiating soon after four o’clock, and found that our friends had kindly got everything ready for our departure. The thought of two quiet days on the boat was not unacceptable after a somewhat laborious but entirely satisfactory trip up Mount Omi, and it was many days before we recovered from our stiffness. Owing to mist, we did not see the impressive view of Mount Omi as it rises from the plain.
CHAPTER XVIII
From Szechwan into Yünnan
The boat in which we continued our journey down the Min River was rather larger than the one we had previously, but still we could not stand upright in it. It is not always easy to get just what you want in the way of boats, especially at this time of year; but it was not a long journey, although our men took about four times as long as they ought to have done, and it was only by offering extra payment that we managed to do it in two days. We had one piece of good luck on the way. Our kind friends at Chengtu, when replenishing our stores, had lamented the non-arrival of a large case of biscuits sent out by friends in England, mentioning the name of the firm from which they were coming. As we neared Sui Fu we were watching divers getting up cases which had evidently been shipwrecked, and conspicuous amongst them was a large case bearing the name referred to. On arrival at Sui Fu we reported this at the mission station where we stayed, and learnt that they had heard of the wreck and sent to inquire whether the case had been got up. Shortly afterwards their messenger returned, saying that it could not be found. Our information being explicit, we described exactly the spot where we had seen the wreck, a few miles above the town; the man was sent again and told that he must bring the case, as we had seen for ourselves that it had been got up. This time he returned in triumph with it. Probably the divers thought that they would get a better price by selling the contents, and if we had not seen it our friends would not have seen it either.
The town of Sui Fu is most charmingly situated, lying at the junction of the Yangtze and the Min rivers, and is enclosed in a fork between the two, with beautiful hills rising above it. Its name is both spelt and pronounced in various ways, to the great bewilderment of those who address letters. It is Sui Fu, or Hsui Fu, or Sú Cheo, or Schow, or Su Chau, or it may be rendered in various other ways. Well might the London telegraph clerk say to my sister, “If you send a wire it is only at your own risk,” in answer to my wire from Peking giving the Pekinese spelling. It is a busy and flourishing place, and possesses a Roman Catholic cathedral as well as a convent.
COPPER IMAGE, SUI FU
A Roman Catholic priest is deeply interested in the local divinity, which is certainly an interesting specimen of art, if nothing more; but the priest is firmly persuaded that it is St. Thomas, and takes all his friends to see it. The god is enshrined in a temple on a hillside overlooking the town. It is a most beautiful situation, but somewhat spoilt by the fact that it is entirely covered with graves. Hills are frequently utilised for this purpose, and contain thousands of graves. The gaudily painted figure is 18 feet high and 5½ feet broad, made of fine red copper. It stands on a large bronze turtle, from which, unfortunately, a good part has been stolen; the head alone is in excellent preservation. It was erected some hundreds of years ago by the Lolos or Ibien, an aboriginal tribe who then held possession of this part of the country. They believed that he was a saint who came over the seas on a turtle, and this certainly corresponds with the legend of St. Thomas going to India. It is a very truculent-looking saint, not lightly to be parted from his sword. The figure is well fenced off from view by large bars, though one has been removed, so that people can push through and get a closer look at him. While I was busy sketching, a priest came up to look, with his long hair fastened on the top of his head by a carved wooden pin. The priests do not plait their hair, but simply twist it up into a sort of “bun.” A woman came up with offerings—fowl, sweets, &c.—which, after they had been offered to the god, she would take home and eat with the greater relish. This is certainly a way of killing two birds with one stone, as she was too poor to have eaten chicken on ordinary occasions. As we came down the hill we met the chief mourner of a funeral, wearing the coarsest sackcloth, which he could scarcely prevent from falling off, as it is incorrect on such occasions to gird it round the waist.
We left Sui Fu on January 14th, en route for Yünnan Fu, and felt that the seasons had got strangely mixed up, as we wended our way along the banks of the Yangtze. This part of it is called the “river of the golden sand.” It is quite a misnomer, for it is as mud-coloured as ever. The peas were in various stages of growth in the part of the river-bed from which the water had subsided. Some looked lovely with their white, pink, or plum-coloured blossoms; others were quite small, only a few inches high; and others again we enjoyed for our evening meal. The people were all busy harvesting the sugar-cane, and we seemed to be the only persons here not chewing it. Our soldiers surreptitiously stole it from the loads that were being carried along the road. Beautiful orange groves on the steep slopes above the river were full of ripe fruit. Men were busy preparing the soil for other crops by breaking the sods with mallets after they had been ploughed. The whole land is one great ceaseless field of labour, where every one works from early childhood to extreme old age.