South of P’ing-pa we found ourselves fairly in Lolodom. When we were breakfasting at the hamlet of Shuan-ma-ts’ao on the morning of the 11th of March, ten wild-looking fellows suddenly put in an appearance. They were dressed in brown felt woollen cloaks from neck to knee, their legs and feet were tightly bandaged with cotton cloth, they wore straw sandals instead of shoes, and their hair was drawn forward in the shape of a horn, projecting above the forehead and bound with cloth. Each was armed with a long wooden javelin, fitted with a large broad iron arrow-head. Some snatched a hasty meal, while others sharpened their javelins on a stone by the side of the street. We began to think that they had sinister intentions regarding ourselves or our property, but they quickly disappeared in Indian file up a narrow path over the hills to the south-west. Sheep were being driven in the same direction, and these men were probably shepherds preparing to ward off the attacks of wild animals from their flocks. At Hai-t’ang, which we reached after a steep descent, we took up our quarters in a new inn just completed and therefore clean. As the morrow was market-day, we resolved to be present and swell the crowd. Snow fell heavily and somewhat dulled the market, so I induced two out of the living mass of Lolos to come and spend an hour or two with me at the inn. I jotted down their numerals and a few common words, and can thus compare my transcription of the sounds with those taken down by Mr. Baber from Lolos in other parts of the country.

Lolos near Wa-shan.Lolos near Ma-pien.Lolos of Hai-t’ang.
(Mr. Baber.)(Mr. Baber.)
1.Ts’uTchihTzŭ
2.NiNiNi
3.Su (or Soa)SuSwa
4.ErhLiLi
5.NguNguNgou
6.FoK’uHu
7.ShihShihShih
8.ShieHeiHei
9.GuGuGu
10.Tch’ie (or Ts’e)Tch’eTsei

It will be noticed that, with a very few exceptions, these numerals are almost identical, and it may, without any great stretch of the imagination, be taken for granted that the Lolos speak one language with only slight dialectic differences. Unfortunately, the men whom I met were unable to write—that they have a written language has been distinctly proved—so that I was powerless to assist in deciphering what up to the present moment remains a sealed book.

It will be appropriate in this place to compare the numerals of the Sifans as taken down by different travellers at different places, and the comparison, I think, shows that, as in the case of the Lolos, the Sifan tribes have also one language, with local dialectic variations. My Sifan told me that their written language resembles Tibetan, which is very probably the case.

Sifan of Tzŭ-ta-ti.Sifan of (?) Lu-ku.Sifan of P’ing-pa.
( Mr. Baber.)(Mr. Hodgson.)
1.TuTaTa
2.NuNaNa
3.SiSiHsi
4.JroRêRo
5.NgeiNgaNga
6.Tch’uTruCh’u
7.ShunSkwiShön
8.JihZiRis
9.NgoGuAnga
10.Tch’i-tch’iChê-chiChei-chei

I agree with Mr. Baber that the sound given by Mr. Hodgson for seven is impossible. The former follows Sir Thomas Wade, who, in transliterating Chinese characters, uses the letter j to represent a semi-r sound; and this will account for the seeming difference, which does not actually exist, in the words for four and eight. To my ear the sound was sufficiently broad to warrant a full r.

White and brown cloaks appeared to be worn indiscriminately by the Lolos, and during the whole of my passage through their country I noticed only one exception, and that was a blue cloak with red fringes. Of this divergence from the usual custom I was unable to find any satisfactory explanation. When we were strolling in the market at Hai-t’ang, several loads of China-root—Pachyma cocos—passed us on the way north. This product is found in great abundance in the hills of Ssŭ-ch’uan, and Yün-nan and is highly esteemed as a medicine.

At Hai-t’ang I thought I had made a discovery that would revolutionize the whole world of dress. On returning from the market to my inn, I caught sight of a piece of cloth of somewhat loose texture in the hands of one of the waiters, and, when examining it, was astonished to learn that, instead of being washed when dirty, it was thrown into the fire, which consumed the dirt and left the material itself intact. Shades of angry washerwomen rose before my mental vision and seemed to curse the age of invention. Nothing deterred, I promptly put the statement to the test, and had the pleasure of seeing the cloth extracted from the fire clean and again ready for use. It was described to me as being manufactured from the fibrous roots of a grass which grows in the gullies of the mountains in the neighbourhood. With that inconsistency which characterises the Chinese, it was called “fire-consuming,” not “fire-proof” cloth. Reader, it is sometimes very hard to be rudely undeceived. Must I confess that the only discovery I made was, that asbestos exists in Western Ssŭ-ch’uan? Washerwomen, your career is not yet ended!

LOLO MARAUDERS.