During the afternoon of my stay in Kuei-yang I made a flying perambulation of the city. In the southern part, the shops were large and apparently prosperous, and the streets, which were fairly broad, were crowded. Foreign cottons brought from Hankow by way of the Tung-t’ing Lake and the Yuan River were plentifully displayed. I shall have occasion to refer again to this route, which was followed by the unfortunate Margary on his way across China to Burmah.
CHAPTER III.
WESTWARD TO YÜN-NAN.
White wax insects—Terrible hailstorm and its effects—Miao-tzŭ houses and women—An-shun Fu—Limestone cave—Pai-shui waterfall—Reception at Lang-t’ai T’ing—Lang-wang Mountain and the “Cave of the Spirits”—Caught in a thunderstorm—The pebbly strand of the Mao-k’ou River—Pack-animals and their treatment—The Yün-nan frontier—A cart at last—Exploring a cave—Underground rivers—Exceptional courtesy—Goître—Breeding ground of the Yün-nan pony—Trade route to Tonquin—Marching knee-deep in mud and water—Poverty of inhabitants—Queen’s birthday dinner in a back-yard—Chinese inquisitiveness—The Sung-ming Lake—A local escort—A glorious view—Yün-nan Fu.
On the morning of the 7th of May, we turned our faces westwards towards the province of Yün-nan, the capital of which I hoped to reach before the end of the month. Soon after leaving the west gate of Kuei-yang, we met a number of carriers with long round baskets slung at the ends of poles in the usual Chinese manner. The exceptional speed at which they were going tempted me to examine their loads, and most unwillingly did they submit, for they were bearing eastward to Hunan burdens of living insects of great industrial value. They were white wax insects in their scales, which had been collected in the An-shun prefecture further west, packed in layers of trays to ensure a free current of air and thus prevent their escape during their long journey. The lamps which the owners, who accompanied the porters on foot, carried, told me that the tiny insects were being hurried night and day to their destination. The whole subject of white wax insects and their valuable product will be found detailed in Chapter XI.
TERRIFIC HAILSTORM.
Ten miles west of Kuei-yang is the main coal-field for supplying the provincial capital with fuel. The road winds among and over low hills untouched by the hoe of the peasant; rank grass and brushwood tell the tale of a meagre population content to exist on the produce of the narrow valleys—patches of barley or wheat, and poppy and rice in their season. Beyond the hills, a valley leads to the district city of Ch’ing-chên, and here a surprising sight met the eye. Up to the very walls of the city stretched an immense poppy-field, the stems fresh and erect, but hardly a capsule remaining. Here at last, thought I, have the authorities in a fit of virtuous indignation advanced beyond issuing proclamations laden with threats of punishment; here surely must be a Magistrate who has a will of his own and the courage to carry it into effect. Alas! I wronged him. ’Twas another celestial authority that did the deed. On the night of the 2nd of May, a terrible hailstorm burst over the district, destroying not only the growing crops but even playing havoc within the walls. The streets were full of broken tiles, many of the roofs having succumbed to the hailstones, which were described to me as weighing as much as seven and even eight ounces. The capsules, which were scattered on the ground, had all been collected for the sake of the sweet cooking-oil which is obtained from the seed, and of the cakes which are manufactured from the seed itself. Six miles by six represented the area over which the hail had descended. The stems and branches of the roadside trees, which were all but denuded of leaves, looked as if they had been hacked with a blunt axe. Rapeseed, beans, wheat, and barley, which were growing in scant patches to the west of the city, were flattened with the ground.
In this part of the country, cultivation is confined to the neighbourhood of towns and villages. The distance between Ch’ing-chên and An-p’ing, the next district city, is twenty miles; and, if we except the poppy which was growing abundantly near the latter, there was no cultivation worthy of the name. Grass-covered plains, once smiling fields, intercepted by curious conical hills partly clad with brushwood and bracken, are happy hunting grounds for herds of tame buffaloes. Truly, the land of the Miao-tzŭ was devastated, and its inhabitants butchered and scattered. Poverty reigns along the highroad. Three miles west of Ch’ing-chên, we stopped for breakfast at a hamlet overlooking a tributary of the Wu Chiang. Neither chair nor table was procurable; but they were hardly necessary, for it did not take long to put away the remains of my dinner of the previous evening. Here I found that the knowledge possessed by the local escorts is not above suspicion. Sitting on the stone bridge which spans the stream just mentioned, I asked them the name and destination of the latter; but I failed to receive a satisfactory answer. One of the soldiers, however, who volunteered the statement that the bridge on which I was sitting had nine arches, was somewhat non-plussed to find, on being sent to count, that it was two short of the number he gave.
An-p’ing has not yet recovered from the ravages of the civil war; the walls are in a state of decay, and many of the houses which they encircle are represented by heaps of ruins. The surrounding country is almost entirely inhabited by Miao-tzŭ, whose hamlets are perched on inaccessible hill-tops—stone refuges occupying the commanding heights. When hard pressed, they drove their cattle into the latter for safety and, sheltering themselves behind the walls, bade defiance to their assailants.