If my Cossacks had not indulged in that steeplechase my journey might have had a tragic ending. Thanks to our furious riding, we startled the band lying in wait for a prey; but if they had seen us quietly proceeding like ordinary travellers along the highroad, they would undoubtedly have attacked us; and I will therefore conclude with the well-known proverb: "All's well that ends well."
PORT ARTHUR, DALNY, NIU-CHWANG, TIEN-TSIN
The country between Mukden and Port Arthur is the granary of Manchuria. Rice, corn, and maize grow in great profusion, and there are from thirty-five to forty different kinds of peas and beans. Chinese agriculture is based on excellent principles. The system of irrigation and the methods of working fully deserve our attention; but the plentiful harvests are chiefly due to the remarkable mode of manuring. The same piece of ground can yield several crops in rotation in one year. It would seem that the land never requires to lie fallow.
As I watched the Chinese farmers and labourers, I was vividly struck by the contrast between this peace-loving, agricultural population, and the armed Cossacks who lined the route. The nearer we came to the coast the more numerous they seemed to become, and there were more and larger barracks also. Yet the Russian military and the Chinese farmers appear to live on friendly terms with one another. I frequently saw Russian soldiers and Chinamen sitting at the same table, merrily talking together, and I even noticed signs of Russification among the natives, for many pigtails were twisted up and hidden under a Russian schapka. They eat the same food with an equally good appetite, and appear to have many tastes in common. If, during the Boxer agitation, the Russian troops behaved with exceptional cruelty towards the natives, it is certain that at present there is a perfect understanding between them. And after all they belong more or less to the same stock; their historic past is very similar, and they both live the same primitive life.
*****
I was now nearing the end of my journey, and although the progress had been slow it had been full of incidents. The last obstacle on the route we encountered at Liaoyang, where a bridge had been swept away. I was prepared for this delay, for some weeks before, the station-master at Harbin had given me a thrilling account of the accident. I remember wondering at the time whether he was exaggerating and trying to dissuade me from penetrating further into the interior of Manchuria; but when I saw the state of affairs at Liaoyang I realized that his story had been perfectly true. The scene before me was one of general confusion. Thousands of Russian soldiers and Chinese coolies were engaged in carting sand, cutting poles, and fixing rails; all talking and shouting at once in different tongues and dialects.
It was a veritable babel. About a thousand men were occupied in constructing a bridge of stone and iron. A few thousand others were throwing up sandbanks to check the water, while another gang of workmen was making a pontoon. We stopped several hours and no one seemed to know how or when we should get across. But the scene was so exciting, and gave me such an excellent opportunity of watching the Chinese at work, that I did not grudge the delay. At last some engineering officers suggested dividing the train and trying to take it across by the pontoon in portions.