The Manjours appear very fond of surrounding their temples with trees, and this is particularly noticeable on account of the scarcity of wood in this region. Timber comes from points higher up the Amoor, where it is cut and rafted down. Small trees and bushes are used as fuel and always with the strictest economy. The grove around the temple is held sacred, as among the Druids in England, and I presume a native would suffer long from cold before cutting a consecrated tree.
Along the river near the first village several boats were moored or drawn on the bank out of reach of the water. A few men and women stood looking at us, and some of them shouted ‘mendow’ when we were directly opposite their position. Of course we returned their salutation.
Unlike the aboriginals lower down the river, the Manjours till the soil and make it their chief dependence. I saw many fields where the grain was uncut, and others where it had been reaped and stacked. The stacks were so numerous in proportion to the population that there must be a large surplus each year. Evidently there is no part of the Amoor valley more fertile than this. Horses and cattle were grazing in the meadows and looked up as we steamed along. We passed a dozen horses drinking from the river, and set them scampering with our whistle.
The horse is used here for carrying light loads, but with heavy burdens the ox finds preference. Along the Chinese shore I frequently saw clumsy carts moving at a snail-like pace between the villages. Each cart had its wheels fixed on an axle that generally turned with them. Frequently there was a lack of grease, and the screeching of the vehicle was rather unpleasant to tender nerves.
Near the village we met a Manjour boat, evidently the property of a merchant. The difference between going with and against the current was apparent by comparing the progress of this boat with the one I saw in the Buryea mountains. One struggled laboriously against the stream, but the other had nothing to do beyond keeping where the water ran swiftest. This one carried a small flag, and was deeply laden with merchandise. The crew was dozing and the man at the helm did not appear more than half awake.
Villages were passed in rapid succession, and the density of the population was in agreeable contrast to the desolation of many parts of the lower Amoor. It was a panorama of houses, temples, groves, and fields, with a surrounding of rich meadows and gentle hills. There was a range of low mountains in the background, but on the Russian shore the flat prairie continued.
In the middle of the afternoon we passed the town of Yah-tou-kat-zou, situated on the Chinese shore where the river makes a bend toward the north and east. It had nothing of special interest, but its gardens were more extensive and more numerous than in the villages below. Just above it there was a bay forming a neat harbor containing several boats and barges. When the Chinese controlled the Amoor they occupied this bay as a dock-yard and naval station. Had my visit been ten or twelve years earlier I should have seen several war junks anchored here. When the Russians obtained the river the Chinese transferred their navy to the Songaree.
From this ancient navy yard the villages stretched in a nearly continuous line along the southern bank, and were quite frequent on the northern one. We saw three Manjour women picking berries on the Russian shore. One carried a baby over her shoulders much after the manner of the American Indians. These women wore garments of blue cotton shaped much like the gowns of the Russian peasants. Near them a boat was moving along the shore, carrying a crew consisting of a man, a boy, and a dog. The boat, laden with hay, was evidently destined for ‘cows and a market.’ Near it was another boat rowed by two men, carrying six women and a quantity of vegetables. Some of the women were sorting the vegetables, and all watched our boat with interest. From the laughter as we passed I concluded the remarks on our appearance were not complimentary.
The scene on this part of the river was picturesque. There were many boats, from the little canoe or ‘dug-out,’ propelled by one man, up to the barge holding several tons of merchandise. The one-man boats were managed with a double-bladed oar, such as I have already described. Nearly every boat that carried a mast had a flag or streamer attached to it, and some had dragons’ heads on their bows. Would Lindley Murray permit me to say that I saw one barge manned by ten women?
