month my travelling would be by water, so I handed him over to a
horse-loving missionary, and I only hope he proved worthy of his master.
My chair, which had been such a comfort for so many weeks, was left in
Chengtu waiting a chance to be sent to Ning-yuean-fu, where I trust it
arrived in time to serve Mrs. Wellwood on her hurried journey to
Yunnan-fu at the outbreak of the Revolution. Even the little dog came
nigh to ending his travels at Chengtu, for the Post Commissioner put
forward a claim of common Irish blood, which I could hardly deny because
of the many kindnesses received from him. But I could not make up my
mind to part with my little comrade, and I said a determined nay.

It was early June when I started on the next stage of my journey, a
three days' trip down the Min River to Chia-ting. The sun was sinking as
I went on board the "wu-pan" or native boat lying in the stream outside
the South Gate, and after carefully counting heads to make sure that the
crew were all there, and that we were carrying no unauthorized
passengers, we pushed off and the current took us rapidly out of sight
of Chengtu.

The trip to Chia-ting was very delightful. I was tired enough to enjoy
keeping still, and lying at ease under my mat shelter I lazily watched
the shores slip past; wooded slopes, graceful pagodas crowning the
headlands, long stretches of fields yellow with rape, white, timbered
farmhouses peeping out from groves of bamboo and orange and cedar, it
was all a beautiful picture of peaceful, orderly life and industry. Each
night we tied up near some village where the cook and boat people could
go a-marketing, generally coming back after an hour with one vegetable
or two. As the river was high, we made good speed, and on the morning of
the third day after starting, the picturesque red bluffs opposite
Chia-ting came in sight.

CHAPTER IX

OMEI SHAN, THE SACRED

The rose-red city of Chia-ting lives in my memory as a vision of beauty,
the most charming (at a distance) of the many charming (always at a
distance) Chinese towns that I have seen. Built on a sandstone ledge at
the junction of the Ta Tu and Ya with the Min, its crenellated red walls
rise almost directly from the water, which, when in flood, dashes high
against the foundations. On the northwest the city rises to nearly three
hundred feet above the level, and standing on the wall one looks down
upon a sea of living green from which rise temple and pago