The face of Manchuria, Korea, & Russian Turkestan

by E. G. Kemp

As we approached the monastery there was a small open space by the roadside in which were stone vases and tablets, but with the exception of that and the avenue there was no sign to mark the neighbourhood of the buildings. They were situated up a short path at right angles to the road, and were by no means impressive. The temple stood slightly to the rear, and we were taken to a series of rooms opening on to a raised terrace, and ushered into the central one, where a Buddha occupied the post of honour. A screen was produced to divide off a part of the room for us, and the monks arranged themselves all round to watch proceedings, namely, the cooking of our supper. One of them wrote an inquiry whether we were “Jesus missionaries,” another brought us a Japanese-English primer, and said a few sentences which he had learned fairly accurately, but could not understand anything we said.

While we had our supper in one part of the room some monks had theirs in another, and it became obvious that we should have no privacy, so we had our things removed to a small room which had been allotted to Mr. Chiao, which was very hot but clean, and which possessed some rings on the door that we could padlock and yet get fresh air. Mr. Chiao was kept busy writing for a long time, and we begged him to find out what they considered the best route to Seoul. However, they said that none of their number had ever been there, and that the monastery to which we proposed going next day was forty miles distant over a lofty pass, so we had to give it up. We were glad to have Mr. Chiao sleeping in the verandah just outside our door to guard us. They showed the rapacity which is said to characterise the Buddhist monks in Korea, and we heard none too good an account of them. The night stillness was only disturbed by the croaking of frogs in quite a different tongue from that of European ones, and the periodic beating of the fish gong which betokens the hour of prayer.

In the morning we were up betimes and off before 6 o’clock; already the monks were busy outside spreading great heaps of grain on matting, perhaps in preparation for sowing. It was a perfect morning as we wended our way down the valley for about three miles of the same way we had come the night before, and soon we left the lovely valley behind us. Our pathway was full of funny little green frogs spotted with black, and with their underside brilliant scarlet. Heavy clouds hung over the precipitous ravine through which lay our way, and we soon outdistanced our ponies as we tramped over a rough path surrounded by most fascinating flowers. Besides those mentioned above there were glades full of large cyclamen, white crocus and wood anemones, purple iris, saxifrage, &c.

Lilies of the valley and strawberry leaves showed promise of future beauty, and many kinds of ferns were beginning to unfold their fronds. Pheasants and wood-pigeons were calling from the rocks, and many birds trying their notes in a tentative way. Chipmunks sat up eyeing us with great unconcern, and the treasures of the woods seemed limitless. A babbling brook kept us in constant temptation as our path crossed and recrossed it, and before we reached the top we passed through more than one drift of snow. The views were wonderful, but we could have seen them better by travelling in the opposite direction, and one of the great charms in that case is the way that the traveller suddenly gets a view of the distant sea as he climbs over the summit of the pass. We were three hours climbing up, for the ascent is very stiff, but the descent is much more gradual, and we were glad to be able to mount our beasts, for the midday halt only came after a stage of seven hours. Brilliant gleams of sunshine occasionally burst forth, but the clouds blew up for rain, and we were thankful to reach our resting-place at night before the storm broke. We only managed 90 li (27 miles) in eleven hours, and on our arrival we were surprised and provoked to find in the little village a Japanese encampment, and officers occupying the best inn. After a slight demur we were taken in, and were soon after discussing a light meal, when the door was thrust rudely open, and a Japanese soldier prepared to watch us have it. As he declined to take our hint to go, it became necessary to shut the door in his face. The rain fell heavily in the night, and the wind blew, but a dark morning was a prelude to a fine day.

We started late next morning, and only got as far as the end of the village when two Japanese officers, who seemed to be superintending the building of a house, stopped us and inquired our destination. They went into long explanations in writing on the ground with Mr. Chiao. They said there was a much better road than the one we were on, and that by it the distance was only 80 li. They spoke a few words of English, and we hoped that they had no ulterior object in sending us the other way, as it proved an execrable road and at least 110 li as to distance. We soon found ourselves going up another pass, but not nearly so long and arduous as the last. The flowers were not so numerous, and we found nothing much of fresh interest. Swallow-tails and butterflies of various colours flitted about the path, and the panoramic view as we gained the summit was fine, showing what a land of hills this is. As we descended into the valleys we found them scantily populated and cultivated, but the singular number of streams and brooks kept many grinding-mills at work. The commonest kind of mill is worked by a runnel of water discharging itself into a wooden cradle; when this is full it descends and empties itself, then rises again, bringing down its other end, as a hammer on the grain beneath. The hammer is inside a little round hut with a pointed roof thatched with straw. Others of the mills are worked by wheels, and there is a constant sound of groaning and hammering in every valley. Ploughing and sowing go on simultaneously, and this requires a gang of from four to six men; they work on a cooperative system, and one man treads along the newly-turned furrow, with bare feet, widening it out, and dropping in the grain and fertiliser mixed, while another follows to cover it with soil, and it is finally stamped down by yet another man. The birds have a poor chance of getting any grain. Some fresh ground was being brought under cultivation by having the brushwood on it burnt and then being ploughed, but to judge from appearances there is no little ground still left waste, which would be cultivated if, for example, it were in Chinese hands. The Koreans take life much more easily, and there is none of the elaborate care and use of materials which are such a striking feature of Chinese industry.

It was only after a somewhat prolonged midday halt that we made the trying discovery that we still had fifteen miles to travel to Tschang Do, where we joined the main road, and meanwhile it became darker and darker. Happily later on the moon shone out brightly and illumined us across a barren moor. Passengers were few and far between, but a couple of men came along silently carrying a white swathed corpse on a stretcher. Our own party had fallen silent, for we were tired and disappointed; the gloom prevented our seeing the steepness of some of the descents, but we clung desperately to our steeds, for we were too weary to walk. At last we came into a high road, which proved to be the main road running from Seoul to Wonsan, and on this it was easy travelling. Few gleams of light were to be seen in the village, but the inhabitants had not gone to rest, so our men set about finding quarters—a not altogether easy matter. While we were discussing it outside an inn, the beasts began quarrelling, and a man was sent flying headlong into the ditch by the heels of one of them. He picked himself up without any ado, and as if it were quite a matter of course. Perhaps this settled the vexed question, for we were forthwith admitted to the house, and the family turned out of a room which they allotted to our use. This sort of thing happened wherever we stayed, for apparently there are no spare rooms for travellers, and as there is no furniture in the living rooms it is not so objectionable an arrangement as it sounds. The best hats of the family are hung on the rafters, a shelf runs round the wall about two feet from the ceiling; it is full of miscellaneous objects, while the clothing of the family appears to be stored in boxes piled on one another. There is generally a door on each side of the room consisting of papered lattice work, and in the side a glass peep-hole varying in size from one to four inches.

The night passed all too soon, and we woke to the consciousness of a sharp frosty morning. As we wended our way down the valley it might easily have been midwinter. The brown hill-sides, and the brown earth and stubble thick with rime, showed no suggestion of spring, though it was nearing the end of April. On every side the pheasants were calling, and the bold fellows were hardly to be put up by a well-aimed stone from my man, but trotted unconcernedly away, as though conscious that now they are under Japanese protection. We met a man with a falcon, but even the falconer’s trade is eyed with suspicion, lest he use it as a blind. There have been several cases of poisoned pheasants noted lately in Seoul, so that it is necessary to be careful in buying them, to see that they have really been shot.

Our sixth day was again a thirteen hours’ journey, and as we sat resting by a rill of water at midday, a young mother with a baby on her back came up, beaming with eagerness to talk to us. No doubt she expected we could understand and answer, and we were doubly sorry not to be able to do so when she carefully unfolded a handkerchief and showed us her Testament and hymn book. The only possibly means of sympathy was by dumb show, and by the headings of the hymns, which were in English as well as Korean.

That evening we found our innkeeper was a Christian, by whom we were received with the utmost warm-heartedness, and every request so willingly granted, that it was quite cheering after a tiring day. One of the girls had thoroughly acquired the English hand-shake, and when I stretched out a hand to shut the door, to my great surprise I found it warmly grasped instead. A little clucking on my friend’s part caused them to go out and fetch us lovely new-laid eggs, a great contrast to most of those we had been able to buy on the road, and they watched my cooking operations with lively interest. We began to feel it would be difficult to shut the door at all on their friendly faces, when an interruption came and rendered it unnecessary; this was a summons to them from the head of the house to come to family worship. First they sang a hymn (would that our good missionary friends could be content to let them sing their own tunes!)—then came Scripture reading, prayer, and the Lord’s Prayer repeated by all; I imagine that what followed next must have been exhortation and a suggestion of another hymn, but they decided not to sing it. The utmost devoutness characterised their worship, which was carried on in the adjoining room, so that we felt we were sharers in it, and it was good to be there.