long the road on their uneven wheels. Just beyond the city there was a
noisy altercation in the road for the possession apparently of a blunt
adze. Carts stopped to see the row, and all the bystanders joined in
with their voices, with much earnestness. It is rare for the disputants
to be injured in these questions. Their language on these occasions is,
I am told, extremely rich in allusions. It would often make a _gendarme_
blush. Their oaths are more ornate than the Italians'; the art of
vituperation is far advanced in China. A strong wind was blowing in our
faces. We rested at some mud hovels where poverty was stalking about
with a stick in rags and nakedness. Full dress of many of these beggars
would disgrace a Polynesian. Even the better dressed were hung with
garments in rags, tattered, and dirty as a Paisley ragpicker's. The
children were mostly stark-naked. In the middle of the day we reached a
Mohammedan village named Taouen, twenty miles from Chaotong, and my man
prepared me an _al fresco_ lunch. The entire village gathered into the
square to see me eat; they struggled for the orange peel I threw under
the table.

From here the road rises quickly to the village of Tashuitsing (7380
feet above sea level), where my men wished to remain, and apparently
came to an understanding with the innkeeper; but I would not understand
and went on alone, and they perforce had to follow me. There are only
half-a-dozen rude inns in the village, all Mohammedan; but just outside
the village the road passes under a magnificent triple archway in four
tiers made of beautifully cut stone, embossed with flowers and images,
and richly gilt--a striking monument in so forlorn a situation. It was
built two years ago, in obedience to the will of the Emperor, by the
richest merchant of Chaotong, and is dedicated to the memory of his
virtuous mother, who died at the age of eighty, having thus experienced
the joy of old age, which in China is the foremost of the five measures
of felicity. It was erected and carved on the spot by masons from
Chungking. Long after dark we reached an outlying inn of the village of
Kiangti, a thatched mud barn, with a sleeping room surrounded on three
sides by a raised ledge of mud bricks upon which were stretched the
mattresses. The room was dimly lit by an oil-lamp; the floor was earth;
the grating under the rafters was stored with maize-cobs. Outside the
door cooking was done in the usual square earthen stove, i