A DYING PATRIOT’S PRAYER.
This, then, was the answer to the prayer of the Mohammedan leader, Tu Wên-hsiu, when he surrendered to the besiegers. The interview is graphically described by Mr. Baber:—“When the Mohammedans had surrendered and given up their arms, Tu Wên-hsiu, the so-called ‘Sultan,’ came into the camp of the besiegers, borne in a sedan chair, and inquired for Ma, the Imperialist commander. Being introduced into his presence, he begged for a cup of water, which being given him, he said, ‘I have nothing to ask but this—spare the people.’ He then drank the water and almost immediately expired. It appears that he had taken poison, which was suddenly brought into action by the water. His head was immediately cut off and exposed, and, heedless of his prayer—probably the most impressive and pathetic ever uttered by a dying patriot—the victors proceeded to massacre the helpless garrison and townsfolk.”
More fortunate than the members of the Grosvenor Mission, who were lodged in an inn where a thousand Mohammedans were cooped up and butchered in cold blood, I was, through the kindness and hospitality of Mr. George Andrew, of the China Inland Mission, provided with a comfortable room in his house, where I rested a fortnight before turning my face toward Ch’ung-k’ing. During my stay I visited the lake, the marble quarries in the Tsang-shan, and the annual fair which was being held outside the west gate. I was also fortunate in being able to witness a review of about five thousand troops, which took place on the parade ground close to the Mission House. I was most courteously received by the Commander-in-chief of Western Yün-nan, and the Taotai, who claimed to be an old friend—having travelled in my company to Yün-nan Fu the previous year—was kindness itself.
As to the fair, I can add little to the description of it given by Mr. Baber. The Ku-tsung, or Tibetan men and women, were present with their encampments and wares in great numbers, and I was so charmed with their fine powerful dogs that I endeavoured to procure one. The idea had, however, to be abandoned, for the animal brought to me for inspection required the whole strength of a Tibetan to keep him in check. Had I bought the dog, which was offered for ten taels, I should have had to engage his keeper also. I succeeded in purchasing a tiger and two leopard skins, unprepared of course, for a sum equivalent to a little over two guineas, and, for several hundred cash, a couple of live Amherst pheasants, which I carried in baskets to Ch’ung-k’ing. This beautiful variety of phasianidae, now common enough in Europe, is very abundant in Western Yün-nan, where its tail-feathers are highly prized for decking pack-animals. They are inserted, several together, in the brow of the bridle, and wave over the animal’s head. Trade is dear to the Chinese heart. I found that, while I was buying, my followers were rapidly disposing, at an immense profit, of a bundle of razors which they had carried all the way from Ch’ung-k’ing.
MARBLE QUARRIES.
Small slabs of white marble streaked with dark green, and supposed to represent trees, mountains, and lakes, were extensively exposed for sale in the shops and on street stalls. Their abundance pointed to a very considerable industry, the working of which I resolved to see for myself. One morning, taking a few men with me and a guide, I left the city by the north gate, and, proceeding over the plain in a north-westerly direction, struck, in a couple of hours, the base of the mountains where the ascent to the quarries begins. A stiff climb of over three thousand feet through a botanist’s paradise landed us at the mouth of a quarry, where a number of men were bringing out blocks of pure white marble. I told the workmen that I was anxious to see streaked marble in the rough; but they innocently replied that such marble was rare indeed, and that they considered themselves lucky if they came across such a block in the course of a year. Whence, then, all the streaked marble? The villagers on the plain can answer the question, for to them is confided the polishing, painting, and baking of the slabs, and the filling up of inequalities with bees’ wax. A scene to suit a purchaser’s taste can be ordered in advance. The inhabitants of the Ta-li plain are not behind their brothers on the eastern seaboard. A couple of pods of musk, which had been purchased for a trifle at the fair, were brought to me to look at; although to outward appearances they were intact, a close inspection revealed that they had been opened, and again carefully closed by means of a needle and thread. Their buyer probably paid a high price for all the musk which they contained.
From the quarries a splendid panorama of plain and lake stretched below us. To the north lay Shang-kuan, with its extended southern wall connecting the lake with the western mountains—the northern defence of the city and plain. Hsia-kuan—the “Lower Pass or Fortress”—was concealed by mountain spurs, which creep into the plain to the south of the city. The two pagodas, each of thirteen storeys, which grace the plain between the city and the Tsang-shan, and which are built of bricks stamped with Tibetan characters, looked in the distance like inverted clubs. As we sat drinking in this never-to-be-forgotten scene, a number of Min-chia maidens, with bundles of pine branches on their backs, passed swiftly down the mountain side. The most striking part of their dress was a close-fitting black cloth cap, shaped very like a fireman’s helmet, and adorned with rows of white beads. Our appearance, I regret to say, somewhat hastened their movements.
As might naturally be expected, the half of the Ta-li plain which lies near the foot of the Tsang-shan range, is less fertile than the eastern half. It consists of stones, pebbles, and gravel, which have been quickly dropped by the mountain streams, while the finer particles of mud have been carried along to add to the soil of the half bordering on the lake. The shores of the lake itself are composed of fine yellow sand thickly scattered with a variety of large shells. Cold water, whether for drinking or washing, is abhorrent to the Chinese; and when, on reaching the lake one day, I expressed my desire to engage a small boat at a fishing hamlet to take me out for a swim, my local escort stood aghast and tried to dissuade me with all sorts of imaginary dangers. The end of it was that we were soon, escort included, at a distance from the shore; and my little dog and I, followed by our guardians in the boat, disported ourselves for a quarter of an hour, chasing each other in the clear cool lake. The fish in the lake, to judge from the specimens I saw caught, belong to the carp family.
CHINESE PREJUDICE.