It not unfrequently happens, however, that the name is in strict accordance with actual facts. On our second stage from Wei-ning Chou we passed through a village called T’ien-ch’iao, or T’ien-shêng-ch’iao—“Heaven’s Bridge,” “Heaven-born Bridge,” or “Natural Bridge”—which is really built on the top of a limestone cavern through which a stream has pushed its way. Some twenty years ago this latter village was the scene of a dreadful catastrophe. Gold and silver, so runs the story, were both found in a mountain a little to the east of the high-road, and one day, when the miners were all at work, the tunnelling collapsed and buried every soul. Since that time all attempts to find the ore have failed.
Squalid though the villages were, evident signs of improvement were manifesting themselves, and the following proclamation, which had lately been issued by the Financial Commissioner of the province of Yün-nan, and which was widely posted along the whole route, may have accounted for the unwonted energy which we observed:—“The copper, which the mines in Yün-nan are bound to supply annually for use in Peking, was in former years conveyed to Lu Chou for export, and at that time there was a flourishing trade along the route. Within recent years the sea route has been attempted, with the result that this trade has dwindled into insignificance. The Board of Revenue has now decided that the copper shall be carried by the old route, so that people and traders of Yün-nan and Kuei-chow may look forward to more prosperous times. The copper from the prefectures of Tung-ch’uan and Chao-t’ung will go to Hsü-chou Fu [Sui Fu], and from the district of K’un-ming [within which the capital of Yün-nan lies] to Hsü-yung T’ing [the highest navigable point on the Yung-ning River, which enters the Yang-tsze to the west of Lu Chou]. On these two important routes, by which the copper is to be conveyed into Ssŭ-ch’uan, make all haste to open hostelries for the accommodation of these consignments of copper and their carriers. This will cause a development of trade generally, and traders and people along these roads may depend on a profitable business.”
A PLEASURE IN STORE.
In many places to the north of Pi-chieh the high-road reminded me of a country lane at home. It was frequently hedged with dense bushes of sweetbriar and hawthorn laden with blossom, and had it not been for the universal poppy, the resemblance would have been far more complete.
The 6th of June was a day of great excitement amongst my followers, as we were to cross the Kuei-chow frontier and rest for the night within the Ssŭ-ch’uan border. A dense mist obscured everything at the start, and it was not till the great event of the day—the descent to the Ch’ih-shui River—began, that we were enabled to get a view of the country that lay before us. The village of Kao-shan-p’u stands on the southern rim of the third great depression between Yün-nan Fu and the Yang-tsze. Beyond the deep defile lies the Hsüeh-shan range running east and west, over 5000 feet above the level of the sea and at least a thousand feet higher than the southern rim. Up its face zigzags the narrow stone road, visible almost to the summit of the range. Down from the southern rim runs the roadway for a distance of ten li—equal to nearly three miles—to the right bank of the river flowing swiftly eastward. The river, which is eighty yards broad, is about two thousand feet above the level of the sea, and, as it enters the Yang-tsze at the city Ho-chiang Hsien ninety-five miles to the south-west of Ch’ung-k’ing, it is not navigable in its upper waters, there being a fall of about thirteen hundred feet. Few facilities are provided for the passage of the immense traffic which exists between the province of Ssŭ-ch’uan and the provinces of Kuei-chow and Yün-nan; a couple of ferry-boats, each sixty feet long, and capable of carrying ten pack-animals and their drivers, afford the only means of crossing.
The white-washed houses of the village of Ch’ih-shui Hsün or Ho-pei Hsün, as it is also called, on the north bank straggle from the mountain foot a short distance up, and here we found shelter for the night. Next morning, we ascended by a series of steps for a distance of twenty-five li—nearly eight miles—to a solitary temple crowning a ridge which the road surmounts.
If I assume—and it is no great assumption—that the river forms the apex of a right-angled triangle with sides three and eight miles long respectively, a simple mathematical calculation will give the distance in a straight line from rim to rim. Now, this is the route by which it has been proposed to carry a railway from Burmah through the Shan States and Yün-nan to Ssŭ-ch’uan, and, granting that the necessary permission could be obtained, who will undertake to bridge the chasm and who will pay the piper?
A CHILD OF NATURE.
The descent of the Hsüeh-shan on the north side is very precipitous, the road winding downwards to the hamlet and coal mines of Lan-ma-lu, where a somewhat curious spectacle attracted my attention. Seated near the mouth of one of the two tunnels was a begrimed and dirty miner clad in the garb of Eden prior to the Fall, and in his hands clasping a tiny red flower, which he was caressingly applying from time to time to his olfactory organ. Here, surely, was a case in which a man was to be judged not by his exterior, but by his inclinations and actions.