On leaving Ho Chou we were again ferried across the Fu Chiang, and soon reached the western rim of the plain. Beyond stretches the same broken hilly country, where I noticed, besides the trees already mentioned, the varnish tree—Rhus vernicifera—growing to a height of about twenty feet. To obtain the varnish, incisions are made in the bark near the foot of the tree in July and August and slips of bamboo inserted. As in the case of the poppy, the incisions are made at night and the sap collected next morning. On exposure to the air, it quickly assumes a dark brown and ultimately a jet-black colour, and becomes very sticky. It is used for a great variety of purposes, and I may state for the information of those interested in the subject that pure varnish is an excellent natural cement. The chief objection to its employment for this purpose is its black colour; but chemical science might come to the rescue and make it white or colourless.
In this fertile land every available spot is utilised; even on the low dykes which divide the paddy fields, mulberry trees and beans spring up. Great though the quantity of silk produced in the province of Ssŭ-ch’uan is, the output might be quadrupled if some means could be devised for delaying the hatching of the silkworm eggs. The silk season is over, and the trees are still laden with leaves. Here I observed an ingenious device for obtaining young trees from the old; round a promising branch of a tree a piece of bamboo about a foot in length, which has previously been divided into two parts along its length, is tied, and the hollow between the branch and the interior of the bamboo filled with mould. In a short time suckers leave the branch and descend into the mould, and, when they are sufficiently developed, the branch is cut off and planted, the suckers forming the roots of the young tree.
The Ssŭ-ch’uanese are essentially a light-hearted and merry race. I have already mentioned how the boatmen on the Upper Yang-tsze give vent to their feelings in song as they toil upwards through the gorges. In the paddy fields I frequently noticed as many as twenty men and boys advancing in line, nearly knee-deep in mud and water, removing with their toes the weeds from the roots of the young shoots, and firming the latter in the ground. A song with a rousing chorus invariably accompanied the work.
Six miles to the south of T’ung-liang Hsien, the first district city through which we passed to the west of Ho Chou, there is a range of hills, about two thousand feet above the surrounding country, where tea is grown in considerable quantities. The summits of the range, in which coal, iron, and lime are all found, were fringed with firs. On leaving T’ung-liang, which is a centre of cotton-weaving, we succeeded in accomplishing a stage of about twenty miles in a burning temperature, which towards night culminated in a thunder and rain storm, bringing down the thermometer from 90° F., at which it stood at 9 P.M. on the 6th, to 69° F. at noon the following day. So pitilessly did the rain continue to descend on the 7th of June, that we had to break the day’s march at eleven o’clock at the city of Ta-tsu Hsien, having only covered ten miles. We were all wet, cold, and dispirited; the only living things that seemed to be positively enjoying themselves were the ducks flapping their wings and wagging their tails on the edges, the bull frogs croaking in the centres, and the swallows skimming low over the surfaces of the flooded paddy-fields. To the east of Ta-tsu we crossed, by a fine stone bridge of five arches, that tributary of the T’o River on which we took boat for a short distance last year at the city of Jung-ch’ang farther south.
A CHARMING SPOT.
A long march of nearly thirty miles from Ta-tsu, through a beautiful country, brought us on the evening of the 8th of June to the market-town of Hsing-lung-ch’ang, on the left bank of the Ching-liu, another tributary of the T’o. A slight sketch of this splendid country is applicable to the whole of eastern Ssŭ-ch’uan. On the slope of a red-soiled hill is a clump of bamboos bending their feathery heads before the breeze. Creeping down the bank is the melon with its mottled leaves and large yellow star-shaped flower; and on the edge is a framework supporting ripe cucumbers. Beneath is a plot of taros, with their graceful heart-shaped leaves lowering their tips to the water which half covers their stems, while underneath, terrace after terrace of flooded plots of young paddy, divided by fringes of beans, stretches into the valley, and miniature foamy cascades dash from terrace to terrace to join the gurgling brook below. Frame the picture with tall firs, straight young water-oaks, low umbrageous wood-oil trees, and the palm with fan-shaped leaves, and, if the peasantry of this part of Ssŭ-ch’uan are not content with all this beauty, we will add a rich and fertile soil, and an abundant water supply.
At the western end of Hsing-lung-ch’ang a large stone bridge of seven arches spans the river, here sixty yards in breadth. Instead of crossing the bridge, we hired four small boats, and dropped down stream for a distance of ten miles, where a waterfall, with a drop of from fifteen to twenty feet, obstructs navigation. The river teemed with fish, and otter-fishing was in full swing. The net was circular and fringed with sinkers, and the fisherman, standing in the bows of the boat, cast his net with a semicircular sweep, covering a large surface of water. The net disappeared, the fisherman holding on to a rope attached to the centre of the net, where there was also a small circular opening. Drawing the rope gently until the centre of the net appeared above the surface, he seized the otter, which was chained to the boat, and dropped it into the opening. After allowing the otter a short time to rout out the fish from the bottom and drive them upwards, net, fish, and otter were all drawn up together into the boat. The results were fairly successful.
Two miles south-west of the waterfall we again took boat, and descended for seven miles between boulders backed by cliffs full of Man-tzŭ caves. I had already explored similar caves on the right bank of the Chia-ling above Ch’ung-k’ing; but my followers, who had never previously heard of their existence, listened breathlessly to the boatman, who described them as the ancient dwelling-places of the aborigines of the country. These cave-dwellings extend westward to the Min River, along the banks of which they are particularly numerous. Landing on the right bank, we proceeded westward, and soon entered a busy market-town on the left bank of the T’o River, opposite the important district city of Nei-chiang Hsien. This city lies on the high-road from Ch’ung-k’ing to the capital of the province, but, as last year I made a detour in order to visit the salt wells of Tzŭ-liu-ching, it did not at that time come within our ken. Before striking the river, I noticed a few patches of a plant very much resembling Abutilon Avicennae, or Ssŭ-ch’uan hemp. There was this important distinction, however, the stems were dark brown, almost black. It was locally called T’ung-ma. Ropes and sacking are manufactured from its disintegrated bark.
AN EXTENSIVE SUGAR REGION.
Nei-chiang, where we rested for a day, is the centre of an extensive sugar region, and, being in water communication with the Yang-tsze, it has the great advantage of being able to distribute its produce speedily and cheaply. It also exports opium, a little cotton, excellent grass-cloth, silk, wood-oil, and bean-sauce. To the west of the T’o, the soil is lighter than to the east, and there was the necessary adjustment of crops; paddy, of course, filled the valleys, while sugar-cane, ground-nuts, tall millet, buckwheat, and sweet potatoes—Batatas edulis, Chois—covered the hill slopes. Tobacco was also prominent and growing luxuriantly; the tops of the stems had recently been plucked to cause a greater development of the large under leaves.