These new indications respecting the religion of Buddha gave us hopes that we should really find among the Lamas of Thibet symbolism more refined and superior to the common belief, and confirmed us in the resolution we had adopted, of keeping on our course westward.
Previous to quitting the inn we called in the landlord, to settle our bill. We had calculated that the entertainment, during four days, of three men and our animals, would cost us at least two ounces of silver; we were therefore agreeably surprised to hear the landlord say, “Sirs Lamas, there is no occasion for going into any accounts; put 300 sapeks into the till, and that will do very well. My house,” he added, “is recently established, and I want to give it a good character. You are come from a distant land, and I would enable you to say to your countrymen that my establishment is worthy of their confidence.” We replied that we would everywhere mention his disinterestedness; and that our countrymen, whenever they had occasion to visit the Blue Town, would certainly not fail to put-up at the “Hotel of the Three Perfections.”
CHAPTER VI.
A Tartar-eater—Loss of Arsalan—Great Caravan of Camels—Night Arrival at Tchagan-Kouren—We are refused Admission into the Inns—We take up our abode with a Shepherd—Overflow of the Yellow River—Aspect of Tchagan-Kouren—Departure across the Marshes—Hiring a Bark—Arrival on the Banks of the Yellow River—Encampment under the Portico of a Pagoda—Embarkation of the Camels—Passage of the Yellow River—Laborious Journey across the Inundated Country—Encampment on the Banks of the River.
We quitted the Blue Town on the fourth day of the ninth moon. We had already been travelling more than a month. It was with the utmost difficulty that our little caravan could get out of the town. The streets were encumbered with men, cars, animals, stalls in which the traders displayed their goods; we could only advance step by step, and at times we were obliged to come to a halt, and wait for some minutes until the way became a little cleared. It was near noon before we reached the last houses of the town, outside the western gate. There, upon a level road, our camels were at length able to proceed at their ease in all the fulness of their long step. A chain of rugged rocks rising on our right sheltered us so completely from the north wind, that we did not at all feel the rigour of the weather. The country through which we were now travelling was still a portion of Western Toumet. We observed in all directions the same indications of
prosperity and comfort which had so much gratified us east of the town. Everywhere around substantial villages presented proofs of successful agriculture and trade. Although we could not set up our tent in the cultivated fields by which we were now surrounded, yet, so far as circumstances permitted, we adhered to our Tartar habits. Instead of entering an inn to take our morning meal, we seated ourselves under a rock or tree, and there breakfasted upon some rolls fried in oil, of which we had bought a supply at the Blue Town. The passers-by laughed at this rustic proceeding, but they were not surprised at it. Tartars, unused to the manners of civilised nations, are entitled to take their repast by the roadside even in places where inns abound.
During the day this mode of travelling was pleasant and convenient enough; but, as it would not have been prudent to remain out all night, at sunset we sought an inn: the preservation of our animals of itself sufficed to render this proceeding necessary. There was nothing for them to eat on the way side, and had we not resorted in the evening to places where we could purchase forage for them, they would, of course, have speedily died.
On the second evening after our departure from Blue Town, we encountered at an inn a very singular personage. We had just tied our animals to a manger under a shed in the great court, when a traveller made his appearance, leading by a halter a lean, raw-boned horse. The traveller was short, but then his rotundity was prodigious. He wore on his head a great straw hat, the flapping brim of which rested on his shoulders; a long sabre suspended from his girdle presented an amusing contrast with the peaceful joyousness of his physiognomy. “Superintendent of the soup-kettle,” cried he, as he entered, “is there room for me in your tavern?” “I have but one travellers’ room,” answered the innkeeper, “and three Mongols who have just come occupy it; you can ask them if they will make room for you.” The traveller waddled towards us. “Peace and happiness unto you, Sirs Lamas: do you need the whole of your room, or can you accommodate me?” “Why not? We are all travellers, and should serve one another.” “Words of excellence! You are Tartars; I am Chinese, yet, comprehending the claims of hospitality, you act upon the truth, that all men are brothers.” Hereupon, fastening his horse to a manger, he joined us, and, having deposited his travelling-bag upon the kang, stretched himself at full length, with the air of a man greatly fatigued. “Whither are you bound?” asked we; “are you going to buy up salt or catsup for some Chinese company?” “No; I represent a great commercial house at Peking, and I am collecting some debts from the Tartars. Where are you going?”