The lake, known in books as the Tien Ch’ih, and colloquially as the K’un-ming—the name of the district in which the city of Yün-nan is situated—is a fine expanse of water, said to be seventy miles long, and in some places to attain a breadth of twenty miles. These figures are, however, very much exaggerated. The lake drains into the Yang-tsze, an artificial channel having been cut, to prevent flooding, from a point on its south-western shore to the river which flows past An-ning Chow, a city to the west of the provincial capital. Junks and passenger boats of fair size navigate the lake between the cities and villages that lie on and near its shores. In 1883 it was my own fate to be a passenger on its waters.
At Yün-nan Fu a number of trade routes converge and connect it with the Yang-tsze, Burmah, the Song-koi, and the West River; but I will not dwell upon them now. They will be found discussed at some length in Chapter XII., which is specially devoted to the trade of Western and South-Western China.
I had now reached the place which I had fixed upon as my farthest point, and, having attained the object of my journey, I resolved to strike the Yang-tsze at Hsü-chou Fu, following in the main the route traversed six years before by the Grosvenor Mission on its way to Yün-nan Fu to enquire into the death of Margary. With an au revoir to the city on the morning of the 31st of May, we began to retrace our steps to Yang-lin, where the Kuei-yang and Hsü-chou roads to Yün-nan Fu meet. For some days previous to our arrival in the provincial capital, rain had considerably interfered with our progress, nor, when we proceeded to return to Yang-lin, did the province belie its reputation.
A PRUDENT CHAIR-BEARER.
It was during one of these downpours that an incident occurred which deserves a passing notice. Several of my followers were opium smokers, and one of my bearers had contracted a great craving for the drug. He was somewhat disreputable in appearance, but a willing worker. His baggage consisted of the clothes on his back and a small bundle, containing his opium pipe and the necessary paraphernalia for smoking. I observed when leaving Yün-nan Fu that the bundle had assumed larger dimensions; but certain speculations which I had made as to its contents were soon proved to be erroneous and altogether wide of the mark.
A few miles to the west of Yang-lin, a halt was called for a rest and the cakes on a roadside stall were quickly bought up and devoured. Sitting apart on the edge of the stone road the opium smoker thus addressed another of my bearers:—“How is it that you are all eating and drinking, and I haven’t a single cash to follow your example?” The other put his thumb to his mouth and, pretending to inhale, pronounced the single word “Opium,” at which the smoker smiled and was silent. Next day we were suddenly overtaken by a sharp rainstorm, and, when the other bearers were searching for shelter, the smoker solemnly produced his bundle and, gravely undoing the cover, unfolded and donned a first-class waterproof coat which he had wisely purchased in the capital. The astonishment visible on their faces, and the look of triumph in which the smoker indulged, were a study. The latter, notwithstanding his misfortune, had more respect for his back than his belly.
An immense plain, beautifully irrigated, stretches north from Yang-lin; and, as we passed through it northwards on the 2nd of June, it was teeming with life. The numerous villages, nestling among trees which dot the plain, had sent forth their able-bodied men and women to pluck up the paddy shoots from the nurseries, make them into bundles, and carry them to the submerged rice-fields, where they were being planted out in rows. Truly a happy, sunny picture. Not cloudless, however; for what are those high upright posts with balance beams near their tops, which occur at somewhat regular intervals along the plain? They are intended for suspending cages containing the heads of highwaymen, who waylay travellers and traders and rob and murder without mercy. Nor were the cages all empty. Two ghastly heads adorned the entrance to the village, which sheltered us at the end of the first stage from Yang-lin.
In the northern part of the plain, which is stony and unsuitable for rice and which ultimately merges in the red-soiled uplands already so familiar in the west of Kuei-chow and the east of Yün-nan, the potato was growing abundantly between rows of withered poppy stems. Yellow wheat and barley were being plucked up by the roots, for not even the sickle was here in use. Patches of buckwheat and oats completed the cultivation. Much of the land, however, was covered with wild grass, on which herds of swine, goats, sheep, ponies, and oxen were feeding. The whole country, from the immediate north of Yang-lin to the southern edge of the large plain, wherein lies the prefectural city of Tung-ch’uan Fu, may be described as a series of valleys barred by red uplands, mountain ranges stretching away to the west to the Yang-tsze and the home of the Lolo. The road is frequently the bed of a mountain torrent, which has to be crossed and re-crossed many times a day.
INSECURITY AND DISTRUST.
The people along the route seemed to entertain the greatest distrust of us; small wonder, when robberies are of such frequent occurrence. They even refused us house-room for our meals, which had often to be spread in the shade of a pine tree. At one village we borrowed the public school-room, an act which, I fear, gave a half-holiday to the scholars who, five in number, divided their attention for a time between writing their characters and watching the frolics of my dog. The master himself disappeared, and the scholars were not slow to follow his example, each, however, preparatory to leaving, carefully depositing his books, paper, pens, and ink in his own basket hanging from a bamboo partition in the room. A sixth basket was for the discarded written characters.