Puto is a narrow islet, 3½ miles long, and lies 1½ miles from the eastern point of Chusan. Its surface is covered with sixty monasteries, pavilions, temples, and other religious buildings, besides grottos and sundry monuments of superstition, in which at least 2,000 idle priests chant the praises of their gods. One visitor describes his landing and ascending “a broad and well-beaten pathway which led to the top of one of the hills, at every crag and turn of which we encountered a temple or a grotto, an inscription or an image, with here and there a garden tastefully laid out, and walks lined with aromatic shrubs, which diffused a grateful fragrance through the air. The prospect from these heights was extremely delightful; numerous islands, far and near, bestudded the main, rocks and precipices above and below, here and there a mountain monastery rearing its head, and in the valley the great temple, with its yellow tiles indicative of imperial distinction, basked like a basilisk in the noonday-sun. All the aid that could be collected from nature and from Chinese art, was here concentrated to render the scene enchanting. But to the eye of the Christian philanthropist it presented a melancholy picture of moral and spiritual death. The only thing we heard out of the mouths of the priests was Ometo Fuh; to every observation that was made, re-echoed Ometo Fuh; and the reply to every inquiry was Ometo Fuh. Each priest was furnished with a rosary which he was constantly counting, and as he counted repeated the same senseless, monotonous exclamation. These characters met the eye at every turn of the road, at every corner of the temples, and on every scrap of paper; on the bells, on the gateways, and on the walls, the same words presented themselves; indeed the whole island seemed to be under the spell of this talismanic phrase, and devoted to recording and re-echoing Ometo Fuh.”[60] The pristine glory of these temples has become sadly dimmed, many of the buildings present marks of decay, and some of the priesthood are obliged to resort to honest labor in order to gain a living. Deaths in their number are supplied by purchasing youths, who are taught nothing but religious literature, a fit training to stunt their minds to pursue the dull mummery of singing Ometo Fuh. The two imperial temples present good specimens of Chinese architecture; but they as well as all other things to be seen at Puto are dilapidated and effete.

Temples were erected on this island as early as A.D. 550, and since it became a resort for priests it seems to have enjoyed the patronage of the government. The goddess of Mercy is said to have visited this spot, and her image is the principal object of worship. No females are allowed to live on the island, nor any persons other than the priests, unless in their employ. The revenues are derived from rent of the lands belonging to the temples, from the collection of those priests who go on begging excursions over the Empire, and from the alms of pilgrims who resort to this agreeable locality. It appears like one of the most beautiful spots on the earth when the traveller lands, just such a place as his imagination had pictured as exclusively belonging to the sunny East, and so far as nature and art can combine, it is really so: but here the illusion ends. Idleness and ignorance, celibacy and idolatry, vice, dirt, and dilapidation, in the inmates or in their habitations, form a poor back-ground for the well-dressed community, and gay, variegated prospect seen when stepping ashore.

CHAPU and CANFU.

A town of considerable importance in this province is Chapu, about fifty miles north-west from Chinhai, across Hangchau Bay, and connected with that city through a luxuriant plain by a well-paved causeway about thirty miles long. Chapu was the port of Hangchau, and when it possessed the entire trade with Japan, boasted of being the largest mart on the seacoast of Chehkiang. The town lies at the bottom of a bay on the western face of some hills forming its eastern point; and at low tide the mud extends a long way from the lowland. The suburbs are situated near a small headland; the walled town stands about half a mile behind. When attacked by the British in May, 1842, the walls were found in poor condition, but the Manchu garrison stationed here upheld their ancient reputation for bravery. This body of troops occupies a separate division of the city, and their cantonment is planned on the model of a camp. The outer defences are numerous, but most of the old fortifications are considerably decayed. The country in the vicinity is highly cultivated, and possesses an unusual number of finely constructed, substantial houses.

South-west from Chapu lies the old town of Canfu (called Kanpu by the Chinese), which was once the port of Hangchau, but now deserted, since the stream on which it is situated has become choked with sand. This place is mentioned in the voyages of two Arabian travellers in the ninth century, as the chief port of China, where all shipping centred. The narrow entrance between Buffalo Island and Kitto Point is probably the Gates of China mentioned by them; and Marco Polo, in 1290, says, “The Ocean Sea comes within 25 miles of the city at a place called Ganfu, where there is a town and an excellent haven, with a vast amount of shipping which is engaged in the traffic to and from India and other foreign parts.... And a great river flows from the city of Kinsay to that sea-haven, by which vessels can come up to the city itself.”[61] Marsden erroneously supposes Kanpu to be Ningpo. If this was in fact the only port allowed to be opened for foreign trade, it shows that, even in the Tang dynasty, the same system of exclusion was maintained that has so recently been broken up; though at that date the Emperors in Shansí had very little authority along the southern coasts. The changes in the Bay of Hangchau have been more potent causes for the loss of trade, and Yule reasonably concludes that the upper part of it is believed to cover now the old site in Polo’s time.

The province of Fuhkien (i.e. Happily Established) is bounded on the north by Chehkiang, north-west and west by Kiangsí, south-west by Kwangtung, and east by the channel of Formosa. Its western borders are determined, for the most part, by the watershed of the basins of the rivers Min and Kan; a rugged and fertile region of the Nan shan. The line of sea-coast is bold, and bordered with a great number of islands, whose lofty granitic or trappean peaks extend in precipitous, barren headlands from Namoh as far as the Chusan archipelago. In the general features of its surface, the islands on its coasts, and its position with reference to the ocean, it resembles the region lying east of New Hampshire in the United States; including Formosa, it about equals Missouri in size.

WATER-COURSES OF FUHKIEN PROVINCE.

The River Min is formed by the union of three large streams at Yenping fu; it drains all the country lying east of the Wu-í (Bohea) hills, or about three-fourths of the province. It is more than three hundred miles long, and owing to its regular depth, is one of the most useful streams in China; twenty-seven walled towns stand on its banks. The tide rises eighteen or twenty feet at the entrance, and this, with the many islands and reefs, renders the approach difficult. At Min-ngan hien, about fourteen miles from the mouth, the stream is contracted to less than half a mile for about three miles, the water being from twelve to twenty-five fathoms deep; the hills on each side rise from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet. One traveller speaks of the walls of its forts and batteries, in this part, as affording a sort of stairs for the more convenient ascent of the hills on which they are situated. From the top, “the view embraces a beautiful scene; nothing can be more picturesque than the little plats of wheat and barley intermixing their yellow crops on the acclivities with bristling pines and arid rocks, and crowned with garden spots, or surrounded with rice fields and orchards of oranges. The valley of the Min, viewed from the summit of the fortress, is truly a beautiful sight.”[62] The scenery on this river, though of a different character, will bear comparison with that of the Hudson for sublimity and beauty; the hills are, however, much higher, and the country less fruitful, on the Min.

Beyond Pagoda Anchorage the passage is too shallow for large vessels, and this obstacle tends to prevent Fuhchau from becoming a place of commerce in keeping with its size and geographical advantages. From the city upwards the river is partially obstructed with rocks and banks, rendering the navigation troublesome as far as Mintsing hien, about thirty miles above it, beyond which the strong rapids render the passage to Yenping extremely tedious,—in high water impossible even with trackers. The banks are steep, and the tow-rope is sometimes taken 50 to 70 feet above the water.

Mr. Stevens says of this river, that “bold, high, and romantic hills give a uniform yet ever varying aspect to the country; but it partakes so much of the mountainous character, that it may be truly said that beyond the capital we saw not one plain even of small extent. Every hill was covered with verdure from the base to the summit. The less rugged were laid out in terraces, rising above each other sometimes to the number of thirty or forty. On these the yellow barley and wheat were waving over our heads. Here and there a laborer, with a bundle of grain which he had reaped, was bringing it down on his shoulder to thrash out. Orange, lemon, and mulberry, or other trees, sometimes shaded a narrow strip along the banks, half concealing the cottages of the inhabitants.”[63]