The funeral ceremonies of the Mo-so are much the same as those of the Tibetans and the people of Muli. The dead are generally cremated or left to the vultures and beasts of prey. In case of cremation, the ashes are scattered or thrown into a ravine or river. Such rough-and-ready methods of disposing of the dead seem to point back to a time when the people that practise these customs were nomads, having no fixed habitation and unable to raise permanent memorials to their dead. The Mo-so, who have settled close to the banks of the Yangtse, hold the richest lands, and are perhaps the most civilised members of their race. They, perhaps influenced by the example of the Chinese, seem to be gradually modifying the national customs with regard to the disposal of the dead. After cremation they carefully wash the ashes in the waters of the Yangtse, and then deposit them in artificial caves roughly hewn by themselves out of the loose crumbling soil of the river's right bank. But the ashes are not inurned, and no record of the deceased is preserved on tablets or monuments.
[CHAPTER XIII]
YUNG-NING TO LI-CHIANG
At Yung-ning I parted with some regret from my three Chinese soldiers—including Hoggins and Bloggins—who had acted as my escort all the way from Tachienlu. They had carried out their orders to the letter in seeing me safely into Yunnan, and in many ways had rendered me faithful and valuable service. Attended by such men a traveller in the wilds of Chinese Tibet has indeed but little to complain of. They were always cheerful, obedient and respectful, never once grumbled at the hardships of the road or the difficulties that we sometimes had about obtaining food, and at the end of a day's journey were always busy about my personal requirements before they looked after themselves. I rewarded them with treble the pay I had promised them at Tachienlu, and still felt that I was in their debt. They started off on the return journey in the company of the lama who had acted as my guide from Muli, and I was glad to learn some months afterwards that they had arrived safely at Tachienlu. The lama, of course, left them at Muli. The Tibetan servant whom I had engaged at Tachienlu remained in my service for some weeks longer, until I had arrived at T'êng-yüeh near the frontier of Burma.
DEPARTURE FROM YUNG-NING
I started from Yung-ning on 10th May, with an unusually large retinue. The mountain pass that separates the Yung-ning plain from the Yangtse was said to be one of the most dangerous roads in western China, owing to the presence of large bands of Lolo robbers. The Yung-ning chief was therefore kind enough to send no less than twelve armed men to escort me to the banks of the river. Two of the twelve were soldiers in uniform; the rest were honest rustics who were probably less afraid of the Lolos than of their borrowed firearms, which on their own admission they had never been taught to use. Our general direction during the morning was W.S.W., over an undulating road that at first led us through cultivated fields and afterwards gradually ascended the side of a wooded mountain. Early in the afternoon we reached, after a long climb, the summit of the Ge Wa pass or Ge Wa Ya K'ou, the height of which is about 13,000 feet. From the summit there was no view towards the south as it was hidden by forests, but a backward glance afforded a beautiful view of the Yung-ning plain, the afternoon shining brightly on its many shades of green. We descended the west side of the pass by a bad road, and all distant views were concealed until we had gone down about 3,000 feet. Then a panorama of very lofty mountains, crowned with snow, opened out before us in the south-west. After passing one or two log cabins and a few fields of scanty vegetation we reached our night's quarters in a sorry hut. The whole of the next morning was occupied in continuing the long descent to the Yangtse valley. The road is not very steep, but the surface is crumbling and rocky. We first caught sight of the great river when we were between 2,000 and 3,000 feet above it. The glimpse revealed to us a tortuous channel of which the general direction was from north-west to south-east. The mountains slope almost to the water's edge on both sides, but there are several small villages perched above the banks, and there is a considerable amount of cultivation. Yet it is curious to observe that the Chinese, as distinct from the natives, are convinced that this broad valley—like all other river-valleys in the west—is dangerous to the health of "civilised" beings. We had our midday meal outside a solitary house called Lan Ga Lo, not far from which is a village. Thence we descended, always in full view of the river, to the village of La Ka Shi, which lies close to a small stream called the Si Dji or Si river. From there we proceeded along the left bank of the Yangtse, two or three hundred feet above it, for a distance of half a mile, then descended to the water's edge by a very steep zig-zagged path.
THE YANGTSE RIVER, NEAR YUNG-NING, ABOVE THE FERRY.