Steamer Empress of Japan,
Yellow Sea, October 4, 1895.
Seated at the table with the first officer, who proves most loquacious and intelligent, we discuss the "Prince of Wales," the English rule in foreign lands and the works of George D. Curzon, a man of great expectations and great possibilities. He loaned me "Problems of the Far East," which I found most entertaining, clear and authentic. On my left are seated Dr. and Mrs. Ashmore. The former has been forty-five years in the missionary field in China. Mrs. Ashmore, as Mrs. Brown, was the founder of the "Mary Colby Seminary" at Yokohama, afterwards removing to China with her second husband. One of her daughters married Mr. Curtis, editor of a Kobe paper, the other, Mr. McCarty, a transportation merchant of Yokohama. Mrs. Ashmore expressed her views freely regarding the Dobisha school in Kiota. The great extravagance in building and in furnishing the university had forced it to the verge of bankruptcy. Dr. and Mrs. Ashmore labor under the Baptist auspices, and both feel that the most encouragement is offered the missionary in China rather than Japan. The conversion of the Chinese was far more permanent when once accomplished than that of the Japanese; they were more truthful and with less varnish. We have on board Isabella Bird Bishop, gray-haired and with mild blue eyes, rather below the average height of woman. She writes so much in favor of Japan that the freedom of the hotels is offered her. After the third day of smooth sailing we anchor in the Yang-tse-kiang, as one writer says, "a stream of lofty dignity of conscious might." Broken short ridges of mountains are seen from a distance, with valleys and plains interspersed. The great plain lying on the sea coast is alluvial, made so by the deposit of the Hoang-Ho and the Yang-tse-kiang (Broad River) combined. The former river often bursts its confines, causing great destruction to life and property. The mouth of the Yang-tse-kiang to-day is far removed from where it was many years ago. The Hoang-Ho is for the greater part of the year unnavigable, owing to floods during the summer months, the disasters being so great it is sometimes called the "Chinese sorrow." Fish abound and is the flesh food of the average Chinaman, although pork is his delight. The mode of fishing is varied; often men and boys dive for them, but the more entertaining method is by the cormorant. A dozen or more of these trained birds are perched on a bamboo pole across the bow of a boat, but before diving, a cord is placed around their throat to prevent them from swallowing their prey, and they rarely fail to bring up one or more fish. Their eagerness for success is most noticeable, and they are rewarded after having satisfied their owner, by being given some of the small fry. Our steamer anchored fifteen miles off of Shanghai, and our heavily freighted tender was two hours reaching land. The harbor was filled with bright colored sailing vessels, junks and sampans, stern-wheel kickaway and chop boats; also the bateaux of the "Tanka" girls who work the ferries. The form of the natural eye painted on these vessels is most apparent; the reason for so doing is, the Chinese will reply, "No eye, no see."
We at once contrast the well-built and improved bund which skirts the water's edge with the less pretentious Japanese ports. It is not until we enter the Chinese quarters, with its low dwellings and apparent squalor, that we realize what the English concessions are to the traveler. The dress of the Chinese is refreshing to the eye after our sojourn in Japan, where among the coolies little was left to the imagination.
The drive to the "Bubbling-Well," a square enclosure of stone some eight feet in dimension, reveals a spring of water whose surface was green with slime, from which issued two clear streams of pure crystal fluid. Well-dressed, painted Chinese women, guarded by eunuchs, drive in landaus along this fashionable drive, which leads to club houses and well laid out grounds. The tiny feet of the women as they peep out from under the richly embroidered gowns assured us that navigation to them on foot was almost impossible. This process of deformity is begun about the sixth year of their lives and rarely fully accomplished before the seventeenth. The suffering is said to be intense. Government has in many provinces interfered, and as civilization advances it is to be hoped this cruelty will be abolished. A missionary told me, in appealing to the Chinese, "to desist from this vain and sinful habit, they would at once retaliate by replying, 'Why do American or European women deform their waists?'" The rough, uncultivated fields attached to the homes along the drives we are told are burial places of their dead. Mere hillocks of earth, so scant as to allow the caskets to be seen plainly, and oftimes skeletons protrude. Do you wonder that epidemics prevail? The warning is constantly given the travelers to keep away from native quarters, but curiosity leads us into temptation. Warehouses, manufactories, shops, theaters, dwellings and temples are crowded together; the streets offensive and disgusting. The shops for silks in the English concession are most fascinating. Beauty of coloring and quality, with most unique designs, are offered at such low prices that one must have great control over herself to resist buying in quantities. The better class of Chinese are most elaborately gowned in these gold embroidered textures—far more costly than the simple embroidered kimonas of the Japanese. The absence of jewelry in the latter makes the love of it with the Chinese most conspicuous. Anklets, imitation of jade and silver bangles are always in evidence.
Jugglers throng the piazzas of the hotel, and for a trifling compensation will swallow a sword three feet long which he flaunts before our eyes and which disappears to all appearances down his throat with great strangling; this we do not ask him to repeat.
A charming sail of three days brought us into the harbor of Hongkong. The city is built on the mountainside; a narrow strip along the water's edge is laid out in a fine driveway, warehouses, hotels and club houses facing the water. The dwellings, with beautiful gardens attached, are built upon the terraces of the mountains, which can only be reached in sedan chairs, borne by coolies. The botanical gardens are most attractive and are within walking distance of the hotel. Alongside of these gardens is the St. John's Cathedral, in Gothic style of architecture. The clock tower is a conspicuous building from which all local distances are measured. On the summit of the mountain overlooking the city is Victoria Gap. An inclined railway, worked by means of cable to an elevation of fourteen hundred feet, leads to it. It cost the city 140,000 Mexican dollars, and pays about five per cent on the investment. The round trip is fifty cents. The views are grand in extent, but it requires considerable nerve to face the apparent danger. However, we find ourselves on the summit in an incredibly brief space of time. The ten square miles of harbor is spread out before you with its myriads of vessels and floating hospitals. The enjoyment of this scene quite repays one for the undertaking. Queen's road (the principal street of Hongkong) runs parallel with the water; from this street, running toward the mountain, the grade is uphill. We ascend stone steps, twenty to thirty in number, to reach the street beyond; consequently we do not frequent them often. Flowers are in profusion for sale and most artistically arranged. The drive to the "Happy Valley," the burial place of the European, Parsees and Mahometans, each within their own walls, is indeed aptly named. We were preceded by two sedan chairs borne by four coolies, each dressed in red kilted skirts and white turbans. The occupants were two small boys, eight and ten years of age, with their amia, or nurses, who bore quantities of lovely flowers. On alighting we followed them to two freshly made graves; from these the boys removed decayed flowers and placed most lavishly those they had brought with them. It was a touching sight. We imagined the parents had been the victims of a scourge that was still hovering over the city. It is a trying climate. The American consul, Mr. Hunt, from Tennessee, called upon us, and we returned the visit at his home, nestled among the palm trees and alongside the botanical gardens. His family were feeling the effect of their protracted sojourn here and yearned for a change.
The distance from Hongkong to Canton is ninety-five miles by the river. We were somewhat surprised to find the captain of our vessel from Prairie du Chien, Wis., whose family was still residing there. It is said that a population of 300,000 people live in boats upon these waters and have no other home. With the baby on her back the mother swings the heavy scull, while the other children act as ducks in the water, some being tethered to the vessel, apparently without any sense of danger. At the slightest indication that one of these boats are needed, fifty or more will rush to the spot, clambering in loud voices for their rights; while the wonder is that the baby's head does not roll off of its shoulders. The mother is seemingly indifferent as to its existence. Along the shores of the river are rice fields and orchards, interspersed with pagodas, which from a distance look like hanging gardens. Chance wind bears sand and seed to these overhanging roofs, and shrubs and flowers grow and bloom. Whampun and Homan, two lofty pagodas, made famous by their age and height, are seen from the steamer, and an occasional dead body of a Chinaman floats by us. As we near the landing of Canton small boats filled with lepers come alongside soliciting alms. They are most pitiful in appearance and, judging from the coins thrown them, it is the only means of their maintenance.
Guides are in waiting at the steamer's wharf, and we only feel safe when protected by them. Six chairs with four men each, made up our van. Mr. Wilder, of Honolulu, had joined us. These coolies groan as they trot along. With the thermometer about 80 and no clothing save the loin cloth, they stop only long enough to change the pole from one shoulder to the other, which are lacerated and in great welts. If it were not for the novel sights that meet the eye the sympathy aroused would be too trying for the traveler. Canton is called the "City of Rams," or the "City of the Genii." These names are derived from the supposed visit of fire-protecting spirits that came from heaven two thousand years ago. It is the chief trading city of southern China. Foreigners first visited here in the eighth century. In 1568 the Portuguese were in China, and in 1615 the Tartars invaded it. We passed through what is known as the Tartar town; it was neater and cleaner than the other quarters. Later the East India Company took possession and for a century and a half controlled the foreign trade. The British invaded the city of Canton in 1841 and took possession, but the ransom of six million was made for its redemption. Again in 1857 the allied forces of British and French captured it, and for nearly four years it was in the hands of foreigners, its government being administered by a joint commission. It has now its European concession. Canton is a typical Chinese city, the contracted streets, not exceeding six feet in width except in spaces where some official residence or temple is built. It is with great difficulty we make any headway through these narrow lanes, and are often compelled to leave our chairs and with our guide pursue our way on foot. If by chance a shop is entered a gaping crowd so surrounds you that you are not only in danger of being robbed, but of losing your guide. The foreign quarters are separated from the mainland by a stream of water connected by two bridges. A wall encircles the native quarter and the gates are closed at night and guarded; the discharge of firecrackers in the early morning announce their opening, and from the river boats another discharge, almost deafening, which is supposed to keen them from the "evil one" through the day.
The Temples of Confucius, Buddha and Shinto religions are much alike in their construction. One of the most famous of these is that of the five hundred Genii, founded in five hundred, the year of our Lord, and was rebuilt forty years ago. In the midst of these immortal five hundred images is that of "Marco Polo," who visited here in the twelfth century. The Temple of Horrors, whose tableaux in brass and wood represent the punishments meted out to those in Buddha's purgatory, boiling the culprit in oil, or grinding him in a mill, or still worse, to place him in an upright position between two planks of wood and then sawing him in pieces—all these pleasant reminders are heightened by the reincarnation against the will of a man's soul into that of a wild beast, destined to another life here on earth, which is too realistic to dwell upon.