CHAPTER VIII

RURAL CHINA BY CART

RICHARDSON was _en route_ to Peking as a third-class passenger. He had just been discharged--with thanks--from his position of physics teacher at the Tientsin Middle School. After his dismissal it took him about ten minutes to gather his meagre belongings together and get out of town.

In the Chinese capital he stayed at the native Y.M.C.A. which was conducted by Americans and where his travelling comrade had put up a few weeks before. His bill was one dollar, Chinese money, a day. The Young Men's Christian Association is found in nearly every large city in the Orient. Many of its plants are housed in substantial and well-equipped buildings and it does a most valuable work. The men in charge of these institutions are a fine lot and are representative of the best type of Americans. Without exception, they received us with the greatest cordiality possible and the recollection of their hospitality will long remain with us. The many secretaries we met were often invaluable to us for the advice they gave us, their suggestions and the courtesies they extended to us, and we were always welcomed to their accommodations at very reasonable prices.

In many ways Peking was the most interesting and fascinating city of our travels. It is different from any other place in the world. Richardson circled this oriental capital on foot. He walked along the top of the twelve miles of huge walls which surround it. Peking has a population of over a million people and is divided into four cities, viz.: The Tartar City, inhabited by the middle classes; the Imperial City, within the Tartar City, where reside most of the government officials; the Forbidden City, in the centre of the Imperial City, in which the Emperors lived and where the President of the Republic of China now has his residence; and the Chinese City where the lower classes live. Surrounding the entire metropolis is a great wall forty feet high and sixty-two feet wide at the base.

The Imperial City occupies a space of nearly two square miles and is enclosed by a wall twenty feet high. There are four spacious entrances, each with three gateways, the middle one being opened only for the Emperor or President. The Forbidden City is laid out on a grand scale and is surrounded by massive pink-tinted walls thirty feet high and thirty feet thick. Within are many palaces, private residences, apartments for visitors and government officials and the necessary quarters for an enormous retinue of domestics of various rank. Foreigners without permits or the Chinese, except high officials, are not allowed in this city.

Connecting the Tartar and Chinese cities is the immense and imposing Chien-Mien Gate with its four oriental towers. The view from the top of this gate is one of the most wonderful metropolitan pictures in the world. Directly before one's eyes are the yellow-tiled palaces of the Forbidden City, whose roofs look like sheets of glittering gold under the rays of the oriental sun. To the right are the costly and substantial houses of the Legation Quarter. Far to the left the Bell and Drum Towers loom up like western skyscrapers. In a remote corner of the Chinese City the stately Temple of Heaven with its rich blue roof rests in the haze of the oriental atmosphere. Beneath one is a bee-hive of human beings. Tens of thousands pass through the Chien-Mien Gate each day. Nearly every means of conveyance that one can imagine, except roller skates and submarines, can be seen creeping through the arched openings of the huge gate. Camels, donkeys, rickshaws, the elaborate equipages of officials, carts, men, women and children on foot, form an endless stream from the time the gates are opened at six in the morning until they close at midnight. A touch of the West is added by the roar of trains whose tracks pierce the walls of the Chinese capital with their numerous tunnels.

Travelling at the third-class mountain rate of two-thirds of a cent a mile, Richardson was sharing his small compartment on a Chinese train with a dozen coolies--on his way to Tai Yuam Fu. From Peking he had made a trip to the Ming tombs and had also visited the Great Wall with a party of American tourists. He was now on his way into the interior of Shansi Province to visit some college friends who were missionaries at a small town called Fen Chow Fu. The mission station was conducted by the American Board of the Congregational Church. Richardson went from Peking to Tchang Te Fou, a distance of one hundred and seventy miles, by train. This city was where the Russian artist and I had our trouble with the Chinese beggars. From this place Richardson took a branch line to Tai Yuan Fu, about two hundred miles west, where he spent the night as the guest of a young Britisher who was a Cambridge University graduate and was then doing medical missionary work. Tai Yuan Fu was the terminal of the railroad and Richardson had to complete his journey to the mission station by cart. This Chinese vehicle had been sent to meet him by his missionary friends.

In giving me an account of this eighty-mile Chinese cart trip, which required three days, Richardson told me that in order to appreciate his experiences I must keep in mind four facts. These were: first, a Chinese cart has neither springs nor cushions; second, Chinese country roads are simply two deep parallel ruts or grooves, made by the wheels of carts (these roads are never graded and in places the ruts are two or three feet deep); third, the portion of the road between the ruts was lined with rocks and boulders of every description and size; and fourth, it rained steadily the three days of his journey. He stated that, by putting these facts together and adding a liberal allowance of imagination, I could get some idea of a cart trip in China.

This uncomfortable vehicle was drawn by two mules, hitched tandem, and not once during the eighty miles did they get off a walk. An Arkansas train was a comet in comparison. Richardson's attendants were a driver and a servant, whom the mission station had sent. They could not speak English. For three days my friend was slowly hauled over hills and valleys in this primitive conveyance. At times he thought his insides would be shaken to a hopeless mass; his head was snapped about until there was grave doubt in his mind as to whether it would stay on throughout the journey and he was so roughly tossed about that he thought he would be lame for the rest of his life. He would ride a couple of hours, about as long as he could stand it at one time, and then get out and walk in the rain for an equal period.

At night and at noon-time he stopped at Chinese inns. "Inn" is a misnomer, however. The Chinese country inn is a stable-yard filled with mules, donkeys, dogs, pigs, chickens, babies and smells. This yard is surrounded by a long one-story building in which are the sleeping rooms, kitchens and eating compartments. All the rooms in an inn open on the yard and with their doorless entrances extend a hearty welcome to the numerous odours. Chinese hotels can be located by their characteristic odour.

A bedroom in one of these inns has no conveniences. There is a "thing" to sit on and a "thing" upon which to place food, but it requires a great deal of intuition to know that they are respectively a chair and a table. There is a brick platform in one corner of the room for a bed. This is called a _kong_ in Shansi Province. Beneath these kongs a fire is built on cold nights. It was at Tai Yuam Hsien, where he spent the second night, that Richardson, while sleeping soundly on a kong, was awakened about two A.M. by being nearly baked. The coolie who was acting as stoker, had replenished the oven so generously with fuel that the bed resembled a crematory.

For two and a half days he didn't see a foreigner or meet a Chinese who could speak English. He communicated with his servant by means of signs. As he entered each village he at once became the chief object of interest. At the inns the scene on his arrival resembled a circus procession. All the youngsters, beggars and cripples followed him into the yard and watched the "animal" eat. At Tai Yuam Hsien they became so numerous and so persistent in their pleas for cash that Richardson had to flash his pistol to instil some fear into them and impress them with the fact that he was a dangerous man.

This three days' journey was filled with inconveniences, but gave Richardson an excellent opportunity to get a glimpse of Chinese rural life. The country through which he passed was green and the farms along the way gave a Mississippi Valley aspect to the scenery. The methods of farming were somewhat different, however. To see hundreds of acres of wheat planted in rows like radishes and hoed by hand was hardly American. There were no cows or horses but, instead, thousands of goats and sheep flocked the hills and valleys while mules and camels were the beasts of burden. The country was largely agricultural and there were but few walled cities, his course taking him through scores of little villages.

In each of the first two days the Chinese cart made thirty miles and the third day twenty. Richardson drove into Fen Chow Fu about six o'clock on the third evening and received a very cordial welcome from the members of the American mission station. Fen Chow Fu proved to be a walled town of about fifty thousand people and the score or more missionaries were the only foreigners. They entertained Richardson in real American fashion. The members of this little far away colony were mostly graduates of Carlton College, Minnesota, where Richardson had taken his freshman and sophomore years before going to Dartmouth.

After ten days as a guest of his friends, Richardson returned to the railroad at Tai Yuan Fu by Chinese cart. Three more uncomfortable days over the eighty-mile course with the same experiences as the inward trip and he arrived at the railroad without mishap. He took the first train and the following day was in Hankow. In this city he spent a comfortable week at the native Y.M.C.A.

It was at this time that one of the dreadful Chinese famines was ravaging the country a few miles distant from Hankow and thousands of people were dying of starvation. Large numbers of these homeless, naked and wretched creatures flocked to the city and roamed its narrow streets as beggars. They hardly had the strength to walk and they presented a sad sight with their fleshless bones, visible ribs and sunken faces. Real poverty was more in evidence in this section than in any part of the world we visited. Human beings were huddled in tiny huts built of rusty Standard Oil cans and located in a swamp. A whole family of six or eight would crawl in on their hands and knees to get a night's shelter from the cold and rain. During the day they would beg or attempt to sell some worthless trinkets or pieces of junk. I have seen a stock of goods spread out on the sidewalk which contained nothing but what would be consigned to the ash barrel in an American community. Rusty nails, pieces of glass, old newspapers, rags and wornout soles of shoes were on display. In some unaccountable way the vendor frequently found a purchaser.

It was in this poverty-stricken district that Richardson played the rôle of philanthropist. He bought an American dollar's worth of _cash_--small Chinese coins with a square hole in the centre which are sold on long strings. As soon as he began giving these away a hundred or more of these poor unfortunates gathered about him and piteously begged for some of the money. Starved creatures--ragged women, half-clad and shivering children, blind boys, men on all fours, paralytics and lepers--thronged about him and pleaded for some of his charity. He divided the money equally among the multitude, counting out the coins as he gave them away. He found that for his American dollar he had received twenty-seven hundred pieces of _cash_.

Richardson was the guest of some friends who were on the faculty of Boone's College in Wu Chang on the opposite bank of the Yangtsze River from Hankow. This school is under the auspices of the American Episcopal Church Mission and is one of the leading institutions of learning in the Empire. Here he spent several days in luxury, sleeping in a warm and comfortable room and enjoying American meals.

Riding below the water line on an oriental steamer with Chinese coolies as fellow passengers is the antithesis of the comfort of an American Mission school. This was the sort of transportation Richardson enjoyed down the Yangtsze to Shanghai. Three days in the midst of unsanitary surroundings and curious and simple coolies were enough to make the ordinary American quit the trip and buy a first-class ticket home. Richardson was not that kind. He was anything but a quitter and although he enjoyed a good bed, clean food and intelligent companions as well as any one I ever knew, he could stand hardship and discomfort without a murmur. He often appeared to like them. In the face of the most discouraging environment he would simply smile and play the part of a philosopher.

He trooped down the gangway at Shanghai with his fellow passengers and in a few days trooped up another gangway on his way south. This time, however, he had obtained a rather luxurious berth. For ten dollars he was to be landed in the city of Victoria, on the island of Hongkong, by the Scotch captain of a British tramp steamer. He occupied a cabin on the upper deck, had the freedom of the ship and dined with the skipper in the main saloon. The voyage was a quiet one and he had plenty of time for reading undisturbed.

Richardson had tried Chinese steerage travel and found it very rough. He decided to make a change. From Hongkong he sailed in the hold of a Japanese steamer for Manila. According to his own statement it was the lowest stratum he had ever reached. The Japanese in the third-class quarters were an unintelligent and inferior lot. They acted like animals; the food was coarse and half cooked; the bunks were hard and full of vermin; the quarters were poorly ventilated; toilet conveniences did not exist; the sea was rough and nearly all the passengers were sick. Aside from this, the boat was very comfortable and it was a pleasant trip.