“Heaven is what is most beautiful in the skies, on earth it is Sou and Hang.”
In the evening the lake and the river are covered with illuminated pleasure boats. Songs and laughter echo on every side. The banks are covered with villas glittering with light, where happy faces and charming features may be seen.
These villas are inhabited by the most beautiful women, who come to this wonderful land to admire the beautiful scenery, and to be admired in their turn. It has been said—such is the reputation of this enchanting spot—that at Hang-Tcheou the moon, instead of being sad at times, is always very happy, as if to share in the general gladness. What songs of love has she not inspired, what poems, what music, born of the contemplation of her orb, more beautiful here than anywhere else. I will add that the prettiest women in China are born in these two provinces.
Sou-Tcheou has, besides its river, a lake called Tai-Hou, in which are a number of mountainous islands. The most celebrated of these are the Toung-Ting-Chan group, which are much loftier than the others. In autumn, when the Virginia creepers have turned to red amidst the green of the pine-trees and the bamboo, the aspect is a most picturesque one.
To the west of the town there is a mountain known as the “Magic Rock,” where there is the grotto of Si-Si, the favourite of Prince Ou-Ouang of Sou-Tcheou, the most beautiful woman in China, and quite close to it are the Lake of Flowers, the Pathways of Pleasant Odours, and the King’s Peak. From the top of this peak, a view of the Toung-Ting mountain, rising a mass of green out of the snow-white lake, may be obtained.
There is another mountain to the north-east, called Fou-Kiou, or the Tomb of the Panther. The story is, that when Emperor Tchin-Sse-Houang wanted to break into the tomb of Prince Ou-Ouang, a tiger appeared on the tomb and protected it, whence its name. Lower down is a tomb which has been preserved for over eight centuries, and which contains the body of a young woman renowned for her misfortunes in love. The few poems of hers that have survived are so very sad, that all persons of a romantic turn of mind who have read them never fail to pay a visit to her tomb, and to cover it with flowers.
Here is a short poem written by this heartbroken woman:
“I prostrate myself before the Buddhist Virgin, so full of pity and of charity,
To beg her to grant that in my future life I may neither revisit earth nor tarry in Paradise;
I pray that she may bless me with a drop of dew at the end of her willow branch,