The Examination Hall, where all males from eighteen to eighty years of age may compete for honors, is well worth a visit. Stalls are built for 12,000 students, in which are placed a table and chair. Once the man is seated there is no release for three days. A strict watch is kept to prevent any communication; even if a death occurs a hole must be knocked in the surrounding wall to transport the body, for under no circumstances are the gates opened during the trial. A subject for an essay is given, and each applicant is forced to render an example of his ability. Less than two score of these receive degrees, and from this examination they go to a higher court in Pekin and there high honors await them in official positions. No caste is observed. The water clock, built five hundred years ago, is composed of three copper vessels placed on top of each other with an indicator in the lower one. The passing of time is indicated by the raising of the water in this lower one, into which trickles the same fluid from those above. The prisons seemed crowded; the inmates were chained to stones or bars of iron, all apparently in one large hall, separated from the spectators by upright bars of iron. When we approached they made a rush toward us as well as their heavily burdened limbs would allow, and begged for money with which their freedom could be bought. The yoke some wore was most torturing. I could think only of Dante's inferno. The execution grounds was a most grewsome place, about twenty-five feet long and ten or twelve feet wide, used daily for drying and storing pottery. The prisoner was made to kneel, bowing his head, while the executioner's ax did the work. We saw a head which had been decapitated before our arrival. From the wall of Canton we could see mountainsides, which seemed to be one vast number of graves, whose entrance were in the form of a horseshoe. In the city is a building they call the "Old Man's Paradise." It is kept up by the wealthy class. The remains of the male dead can be left here for five years, incased in a huge lacquered wood coffin, costing $1,500. Under it is placed plates of lime to prevent white ants from destroying the wood. Before the coffin is a drop curtain to shield it from the gaze of the passer by, in front of which is an altar decked with tinselled flowers; beside this is an empty chair, around which are grouped wooden images supposed to be the servants of the departed master waiting his return, with rice and tea prepared and placed near by. A couch for a servant who guarded the body was occupied each night. The place was rather attractive than otherwise. We lunched upon the walls of Canton in a deserted building, but old with memories. We visited some shops where the crepe, for which the manufactory is noted, can be found in almost all colors, some beautifully embroidered, for moderate prices. The markets are disgusting with the skinned rats and bloody fish which are offered for sale, and a few days' sojourn amidst such surroundings satisfies the traveler.
On our return to Hongkong (the port from which we sailed) the sight of the French steamer "Melbourne," which was to bear us on our journey, was an agreeable vision, although on that line of steamers little is done for the pleasure of the passengers. We took on at Saigon the Governor of Siberia, his wife and secretary; also the Siberian Minister to China, with his wife, with many Russians. The ladies of the party were handsome, and often regaled us with their beautiful voices. A Japanese colonel, who had by his feats of bravery made himself famous, sat at my right at the table, and it was with great interest I listened to him telling of his trip on horseback from Russia on the Trans-Siberian line to China, which took seventeen months to accomplish, with the use of three horses. The extreme cold of Siberia, 45 degrees below zero, with those sluggish people, made the days he spent with them most memorable. He averaged twenty-five miles a day, traveling through grand forests, and, as daylight continued till midnight, he was enabled to travel much at night during the summer months. He was in the employ of the Japanese government. We afterward met him at Cairo. Two days out from Hongkong (Oct. 19, 1895) we skirted the Island of Hainan, which is separated from the mainland of China by the Gulf of Tonquin, and passing the Empire of Anan we enter the St. James River, eight degrees north of the equator—Far. 83. The river in width is about forty rods, the banks of which on either side are covered with dense jungles. The mango and banana tree were strangely intermingled with vines covered with flowers, while groups of monkeys keep up a perpetual chatter and bright plumed parrots were seen at every turn, to say nothing of the wild boar that were hid among the jungles. The low thatched huts along the shore, surrounded by the waving palm tree, looked rather attractive at a distance. The dress of the Coachin-Chinamen consists of long, loose flowing trousers, with a black or white robe falling from the shoulders, and a red or white turban on their heads. The heat at Saigon in October was oppressive, and we were advised to keep aboard the vessel till late in the evening. Our ride to the botanical gardens over smooth roads of red clay in the jinrikisha, with a bright turbaned coolie, was most picturesque amid the perfection of tropical growth of plants and trees. Convoys of storks, plumed golden pheasants, the Coachin China chickens, cages of monkeys, leopards and bears all amuse and entertain the traveler. Saigon is a French concession and has at least 100,000 inhabitants. Late in the afternoon the Governor General of Coachin China boarded the vessel with his son. Citizens in their white duck suits and pith helmets and soldiers escorted him to the steamer in their bright uniforms with great ceremony to bid him bon voyage to France to negotiate a loan in behalf of a projected railroad. The governor wore the decoration of the Legion of Honor and was most dignified in his bearing.
A smooth sea and fair breeze made the next two days and a half fairly enjoyable, but the heat was overpowering at times; the nights were spent by many on deck, where the firmament could be enjoyed, as the Southern Cross was seen in its great beauty. Singapore, the next stopping place, afforded us a fine drive in a chariot through the country. These vehicles seat comfortably four persons, a charioteer, who drove, and an outrider seated behind. Their turkey-red calico sacques, with a white cheese cloth skirt and high red turban, gave them a showy appearance, while the diminutive animal which drew us in the most submissive fashion plodded his way over the well-rolled roads of red clay. The tropical growth of trees and shrubbery almost hid from view the bungalows of the better class of people. These buildings were one story in height, surrounded by wide verandas, the roofs of which were thatched with huge palm leaves, while the bamboo split in two formed excellent gutters to convey the water to the ground. Dates hung in profusion upon the trees alongside of the road, and bananas half as long as your arm were offered you, the taste of which is very unlike ours. The palm and rubber trees grow like the forest trees in our own land. The red and white arbiscus, running wild over trees and house, with the ox-eyed daisy, almost as large as the sunflower, and the marigold, which is the flower that the Indian idolater uses in his worship, grows in profusion here. The abundant moisture from frequent showers, followed by a blazing sunshine, produces that tropical luxuriance for which this portion of the Orient is celebrated. To sit upon the steamer's deck at early dawn one sees close to the horizon in the north the Pole Star, in the south a few degrees higher the constellation of the southern cross is in full view, while on land the scene of the greatest activity is at this hour. The rude cart, drawn by cream-colored, humped-back, reversed-horn cattle, driven by a coal-black Tamil in a bright red turban and perhaps a loin cloth, lends interest to the picture, and the superb shoulders of the natives are well exhibited, as they unload from barges drawn close to the steamer's side huge sacks of coal, which they heave to one another till they reach the hold of the vessel. This is performed mostly by women with a weird chant of "heave ho" that seems to render the task less irksome.
Singapore was purchased by the British. It is the greatest tin producing country in the world. Sago is grown in quantities and shipped to every port; it is the pith of the tree trunk. Here the gum of the rubber tree is gathered and dried in chunks, placed in gunny bags and sent to all quarters of the globe in the crude state. The rattan, which is elaborately woven by the natives into chairs and other useful pieces of furniture, is light in weight and capable of great endurance. The tree grows like a palm to a great height, throwing above ground long tendrils extending a half mile. These are cut in lengths of thirty feet, soaked, scraped and ready for use. The indigo bush is cut and dried, then boiled, the sediment forming the dry substance exported. Tea is also cultivated successfully. Mangoes, yellow as pumpkins, in shape of pears, with disagreeable flavor, but most in favor with the natives, as well as the children of adoption, are the Dorean fruits, with custard-like contents, offensive to the smell, but agreeable to the taste. The business portion of the city is substantially built, but we were told that the use of opium, like the Upas tree, casts a blight on this fair country and its inhabitants. We invited a missionary to dine on the steamer with us. He conducted a boys' school of 600 pupils. The building cost $20,000, built by local contributions of the English and Chinese. They practice the Salvation Army methods in gathering audiences for Bible instruction, and those who accepted Christianity closely adhered to their vows.
We now enter the straits of Malacca, as smooth as a river, but clouds and showers render the atmosphere low and depressing. We meet on the steamer those who have spent years in this climate. A lady from Holland told me that it was so exhausting that life was almost unendurable. She spoke of the Queen of Holland, the young "Wilhelmina," and of her mother, the Dowager Queen Emma, now acting as regent. She was the second wife of King William of Holland, and had this only daughter. He had three sons by his first wife, all deceased. This present widow was a German princess, and at this time (1895) was thirty-four years old and her daughter fifteen. It was very evident from the conversation of this Holland lady that Germans were in disrepute with her people—the Holland Dutch. From the straits we run into the Indian Ocean, "with a wet sheet and a flowing sea, and a wind that follows fast." To forget the swell I take up a sensational novel, "The Old Love and the New," but that influence is not enough to drive away mal de mer, that soon gets the better of the passengers and drives us to our cabins. Four days of sailing brings us to Ceylon's shores, where we fail to catch the spicy breezes of which we have so often sung. We are on deck early to realize the descriptions given of the southern coast of this island, then turn northward and round into the harbor of Colombo. The hotels and government buildings are located along the quay. The forest of cocoanut palms and the lofty peaks of the mountain form an impressive background. Ceylon is two-thirds as large as Ireland and is in possession of the English. Some English writer has said "that in the train of England's conquests comes the broadest, wisest and most tolerant statesmanship the world has ever witnessed. To be humbled by her is to be exalted by her." There seemed a good feeling between the natives and their rulers. The Oriental Hotel swarms with people of all nations. Breakfast is served in your room, consisting of coffee, toast, fruit and sweets. Luncheon is a hasty meal, but dinner to the foreigner, served at 7 or 8 p. m., seems thoroughly enjoyable. The Englishman, dressed in black trousers, broad sash-belts of black or red silk, which seems to make more pronounced the smooth shirt bosom, with a spotless white pea-jacket, forms a refreshing costume. Ladies almost invariably are in low-neck black dresses, with a broad piece of white lace which droops gracefully as a bertha, with bright flowers in their hair, while a band of stringed instruments makes the scene enlivening. The broad arcade from which you enter the dining hall is after dinner filled to overflowing with guests seated around small tables, where brandy and coffee is served, and is the harvest time of the tradesmen, who are allowed to spread before you their embroideries, laces, jewels and baskets of curious workmanship and bright colors, together with elephants of ebony and ivory. Close to the entrance of the hotel are jugglers with their baskets of cobras, whose poisonous fangs have been extracted; together with the dwarfed trees which miraculously grow before your eyes, and divers tricks are performed to entertain the stranger and to earn for themselves a scant livelihood. The Singhalese and Tamil women, men and children, whose features seemed carved in ebony, are of the Aryan race—so different from the Mongol Malay race. It is amusing when riding to be followed by the native children crying "No papa, no mamma, no rice." And when these claims are recognized they laugh immoderately and wait for other persons to attack with the same pathetic appeal. A drive to the Cinnamon garden, in the midst of which is a fine museum with a rare collection of sea urchins; these fasten themselves to a rock, in which with their black, stiff, cigar-shaped feelers they dig a cell, resembling machine work so accurate are they in their measurement to fit their bodies. Here we are shown the original tooth of Buddha, which looks more like a small tusk of an elephant. This is placed under a glass cover; the sea-horse suckling its young, the myriads of birds, besides every wild beast of the forest are finely preserved. The bungalows of more wealthy inhabitants are built along these beautiful drives, and are almost concealed by the dense foliage, and must necessarily be damp, as the sun's rays can scarcely enter. We are offered neatly bound bunches of camphor wood and cinnamon by children on the road, but which have little aroma left. The men are athletic in appearance, erect and graceful, hair black and curly. The Singhalese wear a circular shell comb to confine their glossy curls. The men are semi-clad; the women wear low-neck corset covers with an ample strip of cloth that is pinned around the body for a skirt, which shows the ankles with their silver anklets, while the black neck and arms are adorned with gilt beads and bangles, the nose and lobes of the ear being pierced and fairly weighed down with jeweled rings. The deformity is appalling among the lower class; their only compensation is that the stranger never passes them by without bestowing some gift, denoting their sympathy. We are in Ceylon in the tail end of a monsoon (October 30). Such sheets of water, deluging alike streets and people, are scarcely heeded—so soon do the sun's rays dry up the roads. We take a cart drawn by two bullocks, goaded by a small boy, who sits on the yoke and so close to the animals that one can scarcely detect his mode of thrusting a sharp steel instrument into the body to make them move, but this is his great incentive, as he easily could outwalk them; it is the novelty that attracts, not the speed. We are landed close by the market, where all fish, fowl and vegetables are sold. We purchase a bunch of Betel leaves, neatly piled one upon the other. The nut of the same bush is cut into small pieces, mixed with a teaspoonful of slackened lime, and a little tobacco or more often opium. This mixture laid upon a leaf is rolled and we are asked to try it. We give that pleasure to our small boy or guide. One of these leaves will be material enough for two or three hours' pleasure, and the coolie is seldom seen without this delectable morsel in his mouth. He seldom expectorates but seems to swallow the fluid, which is like red ink in color; the habit is most disgusting, but assuages hunger.
We frequently see on the children's naked body a cord around the loins. The placing of this is a religious ceremony, with a religious signification. The drive along the beach is grand, and the roads smooth. The crowds of English and Australians taking their evening outing, cheered by the music of the military band and stimulated by the dashing of the breakers on the sea-girt shore add to the pleasure. If you are walking you are waylaid at every step by some drummer who represents his own or the shop of some one whose jewels are displayed in the greatest profusion. Sapphires, diamonds, rubies and pearls and other stones are shown the customer until the eye fairly wearies of the sparkle. If you decide not to purchase them but to call again, woe be to you if you do not keep your word, as you are followed and the cry of "Lady, come back, you promised!" becomes a trifle wearisome.
To visit Kandy, situated eighteen hundred feet above the sea, in the mountains of the interior of Ceylon, we take passage on a railroad of marvelous engineering. To quote a traveler's words may give you some idea of the beauty of the views obtained: "As one skirts the flanks of the mountains and looks down into an enormous gorge, its sides clad with the most beautiful and varied foliage of flowers and trees, and on the level bottom lands can be seen cascades, which are formed by the artificial lakes that overflow the exquisitely delicate green of the young rice." Our attention is directed to the Tollipot tree, which flourishes for sixty years, and blooms just before it dies. The bloom is at the top of the tree and reminded me of huge bunches of pampas grass. The distance from Colombo to Kandy is seventy-eight miles. Roundabout this region live the tea planters with their families. Kandy is a resort, during the summer season, for the inhabitants of the lowlands, and is built on the shore of a charming little lake, its banks shaded by the Tamarind and royal palms. The vine-clad bungalows add to its attractiveness. Within sight of the hotel is the Malagawa Buddhist temple, the most sacred of the shrines of Buddhism. We are again shown an actual tooth of the Deity, two and one-half inches long and one inch wide.
On the evening of our arrival a great festival was held at the temple. The procession was headed by eight standard bearers, dressed in full white skirts, followed by eight more in red costumes. Their waists were uncovered. They bore aloft flaming torches, followed by the most fantastically dressed musicians beating drums and dancing in a frantic manner. Close behind these were the "Devil dancers," four in number, whose skirts of gay-colored silks were elaborately studded with jewels and turbans to match. These skirts were so full that when making their convolutions they looked like inflated balloons. The contortions of their bodies were painful to witness, and as the reflection from the torches lit up their faces one could but feel they were aptly named. Three elephants walked abreast, most gorgeously apparelled, and moved with a dignity most surprising. They wore jewelled masks, their bodies enveloped with jewelled mantles, while on the back of the center animal rested a gilded cage, in which, in a pagoda-shaped vessel, was the sacred tooth. Following the elephants were more drummers, more Devil dancers and other elephants, whose huge tusks were incased in gold. Each animal was closely guarded by his keeper, while riders sat astride in the most gorgeous-colored skirts and turbans. The chief man of the temple, representative of the old Kandy kings, rivaled Falstaff in his appearance. He wore a full white skirt, a large white hat, with a white mantle or cape thrown over his shoulders. His dignified tread was akin to that of Jumbo, and was greeted by all along the procession. We were told he was the banker of the village. During the August festival the procession is much more impressive, as three hundred elephants are in line. The festivities ended by a feast at the temple. Along each side of the entrance the poor of the village sat with their empty vessels, which were to be filled by those in authority. Buddha was most conspicuous on the altar of the temple, carved woods and ivories surrounding the image, where later a dance was performed; but we were too unholy to be permitted to remain and witness it. A description of the Paradeniza gardens would be like attempting to picture to one's imagination the Garden of Eden. The two hundred and fifty varieties of palms, the bamboo, one hundred feet high and growing in clumps one hundred and fifty feet in circumference, give some idea of the tropical growth. We see spicy cinnamon, the chinchona, the upas tree, the latter bearing to a great height its lofty head, not unlike a palm in growth, with its bark gray and spotted like a snake. It is not indigenous to the soil, but comes from Java, where its dense groves are called the "Valley and Shadow of Death," and when I stood under its shade without knowing the tree, I will confess a superstitious fear came over me when I was told by our frightened guide that I was in danger. The candle tree produces a fruit shaped like a candle, but not edible. The traveler's palm gives the thirsty traveler a refreshing drink when an incision in the stem of its leaves is made. Cocaine grows in profusion, while alongside, coffee and tea plants and nutmegs and other spices grow apace. The Jacqueminot and La France roses grow to the size of saucers, while the orchids fasten themselves like grape vines over wooden props, beautiful and varied in color, and are native to the jungles, brought therefrom and sold by coolies to the traveler for a pittance. The governor's palace is beautifully located. From its windows we gaze upon a beautiful river, while the grounds are watered from the spray of fountains. The palace was unoccupied and we were permitted to go through its spacious rooms and halls. The drives all about Kandy are fascinating, and are made more so by now and then a temple hid almost from sight, but of interest when visited, while the industrious weaver of straw mats, a yard and a half in length and a yard wide, meets us along the way, urging us to buy—a temptation we cannot resist, although we wonder what we shall do with them when we get them. But adieux must be made to Ceylon, with its spicy breezes, for the "Steamer Pekin" lies at anchor off Colombo which is to bear us over 1,300 miles to Calcutta, the voyage only broken by a short stay at Madras, where a brief visit is long enough, for the heat and dust are oppressive. We see the juggernaut car lying in disuse on the roadside under a temporary covering of a palm thatched roof. A most cumbersome vehicle, the wheels of which are so closely set together that one can imagine the poor victims over whose body it rolls, could easily be reduced to powder. Government interferes in its further usage, save in territories not easily managed. The official buildings are European, but the homes of the natives are of burnt clay, with no windows—a small open door reveals its inmates stretched out sleeping, almost devoured by flies. The filth of the quarter makes it uninviting; the botanical garden is hardly worth the ride there. We take the only small vessel in use to carry us back to the steamer awaiting us in this beautiful Bay of Bengal. The governor's house is lofty in appearance, the exterior dingy from dust and dirt, but we are told the household appointments are magnificent, the decorations partly in the oriental and some of them in European style; servants by the score, hundreds of coolies who do nothing but keep the Punkas (swinging fans) in motion in every part of the building by day and night. The natives of Madras are quite dark in color, with straight hair and regular features, diminutive in stature, slender forms, with small hands and feet, and have a pensive look and manner. The deformity among the beggars is revolting, and we fear to alight from our chariot, lest we may come in contact with these poor, unfortunate beings. We learn that the wheels of government move slowly in these oriental countries. If an audience with the governor is desired, a book is given you in which the name of the solicitor is registered. At the end of two weeks the governor gives notice that he will give a public breakfast at the palace, and those who have registered their names will be received and their requests will be heard. Time seems not to be considered of any import.
The calm waters of the Bay of Bengal, with its southern breezes, makes the journey pleasant, as the traveler seeks his extended chair on deck of the steamer, protected from the scorching sun by its broad awnings. On entrance to the Hoogly River, a native pilot comes aboard—for here the ever-moving sands render navigation uncertain and perilous—until the dangerous sand bars of the James and Mary rivers are passed; every sailor must be at his post as the steamer wends its way through the treacherous channel, and each passenger silently congratulates himself when he is assured the Rubicon is past. The bottom of these rivers is a vast quicksand. The vessel entering must await the tide. The banks are low and sandy. Straw thatched huts, shaded by clusters of date palms, gave a picturesque appearance to the shores, and the tropical growth grew richer and more dense as we approached Calcutta. The excitement on arrival of the steamer is intense; custom house officers present themselves: all baggage is ordered from the cabins on deck, even to the smallest hand-bag; search is made for fire arms: strict laws regarding them are enforced, and if you are unfortunate enough to have one in your possession, as was one of our party, you are quickly relieved of it, and only by paying as much as the original price, with much red tape, are you enabled to regain it.