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New Forces in Old China

An Inevitable Awakening


To my Friends in China


THE object of this book is to describe the operation
upon and within old, conservative, exclusive China
of the three great transforming forces of the modern
world--Western trade, Western politics and Western religion.
These forces are producing stupendous changes in that hitherto
sluggish mass of humanity. The full significance of these
changes both to China and to the world cannot be comprehended
now. There is something fascinating and at the same
time something appalling in the spectacle of a nation numbering
nearly one-third of the human race slowly and majestically
rousing itself from the torpor of ages under the influence of
new and powerful revolutionary forces. No other movement
of our age is so colossal, no other is more pregnant with
meaning. In the words of D. C. Bougler, ``The grip of the outer
world has tightened round China. It will either strangle her
or galvanize her into fresh life.''

The immediate occasion of this volume was the invitation of
the faculty of Princeton Theological Seminary to deliver a
series of lectures on China on the Student Lectureship Foundation
and to publish them in book form. This will account in
part for the style of some passages. I have, however, added
considerable material which was not included in the lectures,
while some articles that were contributed to the Century Magazine,
the American Monthly Review of Reviews and other
magazines have been inserted in their proper place in the
discussion. The materials were gathered not only in study and
correspondence but in an extended tour of Asia in the years
1901 and 1902. In that tour, advantage was taken of every
opportunity to confer with Chinese of all classes, foreign
consuls, editors, business men and American, German and British
officials, as well as with missionaries of all denominations.
Everywhere I was cordially received, and, as I look at my
voluminous note-books, I am very grateful to the men of all
faiths and nationalities who so generously aided me in my
search for information.

No one system of spelling Chinese names has been followed
for the simple reason that no one has been generally accepted.
The Chinese characters represent words and ideas rather than
letters and can only be phonetically reproduced in English.
Unfortunately, scholars differ widely as to this phonetic spelling,
while each nationality works in its own peculiarities wherever
practicable. And so we have Manchuria, Mantchuria and
Manchouria; Kiao-chou, Kiau-Tshou, Kiao-Chau, Kiau-
tschou and Kiao-chow; Chinan and Tsi-nan; Ychou, Ichow
and I-chou; Tsing-tau and Ching-Dao; while Mukden is confusingly
known as Moukden , Shen-Yang, Feng-tien-fu and Sheng-
king. As some authors follow one system, some another and some
none at all, and as usage varies in different parts of the Empire,
an attempt at uniformity would have involved the correction
of quotations and the changing of forms that have the sanction
of established usage as, for example, the alteration of
Chefoo to Chi-fu or Tshi-fu. I have deemed it wise, as a rule,
to omit the aspirate (e. g, Tai-shan instead of T'ai-shan) as
unintelligible to one who does not speak Chinese. Few
foreigners except missionaries can pronounce Chinese names
correctly anyway. Besides, no matter what the system of spelling,
the pronunciation differs, the Chinese themselves in various
parts of the Empire pronouncing the name of the Imperial
City Beh-ging, Bay-ging, Bai-ging and Bei-jing, while most
foreigners pronounce it Pe-kin or Pi-king. I have followed the
best obtainable advice in using the hyphen between the different
parts of many proper names. For the rest I join the
perplexed reader who devoutly hopes that the various commit-
tees that are at work on the Romanization of the Chinese language
may in time agree among themselves and evolve a system
that a plain, wayfaring man can understand without provocation
to wrath.
156 Fifth Avenue,
New York City.

Preface to the Second Edition

THE author gratefully acknowledges the kindness with
which his book has been received not only in this
country but in England and China. In this edition
he has corrected a number of errors that appeared in the first
edition and has availed himself of later statistical information.
He is under special obligations to the Rev. W. A. P. Martin,
D. D., LL. D., of Wuchang, and the Rev. Arthur H. Smith,
D. D. LL. D., of Pang-chwang, for valuable counsel. These
distinguished authorities on China have been so kind as to
study the book with painstaking care and to give the author
the benefit of their suggestions. All these suggestions have
been incorporated in this edition to the great improvement of
its accuracy.

The result of the Russia-Japan War is noticeably accelerating
the new movement in China. The Chinese have been as
much startled and impressed by the Japanese victory as the
rest of the world and they are more and more disposed to follow
the path which the Japanese have so successfully marked
out. The considerations presented in this book are therefore
even more true to-day than when they were first published.
The problem of the future is plainly the problem of China and
no thoughtful person can afford to be indifferent to the vast
transformation which is taking place as the result of the operation
of the great formative forces of the modern world.

156 Fifth Avenue,
New York City.




I. THE ANCIENT EMPIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
ACHIEVEMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
IV. A TYPICAL PROVINCE . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
V. A SHENDZA IN SHANTUNG. . . . . . . . . . . 52
VI. AT THE GRAVE OF CONFUCIUS. . . . . . . . . 65
AND SOLDIERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84



XI. THE BUILDING OF RAILWAYS . . . . . . . . .130



XV. RENEWED AGGRESSIONS. . . . . . . . . . . .174
REFORM PARTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . .184
XVII. THE BOXER UPRISING . . . . . . . . . . .193



DEVELOPMENT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .217
UPRISING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .249
XXII. THE CHINESE CHRISTIANS . . . . . . . . .268
ECONOMIC CONDITIONS. . . . . . . . . . . .280
XXIV. COMITY AND COOPERATION . . . . . . . . .290



XXV. IS THERE A YELLOW PERIL. . . . . . . . . .305
XXVII. HOPEFUL SIGNS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .333
INDEX. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .371

List of Illustrations
Facing Page
Railway Station, Paoting-fu. . . . . . . . . .Title
View of Canton, Showing House Boats. . . . . . . . 22
H. I. H. Prince Su and Attendants. . . . . . . . . 32
A Rut in the Loess Region. . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
Germans Building Railway Bridge in Shantung. . . . 56
A Shendza in Shantung. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
Climbing Tai-shan, the Sacred Mountain . . . . . . 70
The Grave of Confucius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
Part of the Author's Escort of Chinese Cavalrymen. 92
Watching the Author writing in his Diary at a noon stop
A Snap Shot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
The Bund, Shanghai . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .112
American Cigarette Posters on a Chinese Bridge . .112
The Chinese Cart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .130
The Old and The New. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .130
French Military Post, Saigon . . . . . . . . . . .150
German Soldiers on the Bund, Tien-tsin . . . . . .150
The British Legation Guard, Peking . . . . . . . .174
The Temple of Heaven, Peking . . . . . . . . . . .198
Memorial Arch, Hall of the Classics, Peking. . . .228
Graduating Class, Presbyterian Theological Seminary,
Canton, 1904. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .268
Approach to the Imperial Palace in the Forbidden City,
Peking. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .320
Two of China's Great Men Yuan Shih Kai and Chang
Chih-tung . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .344
Map. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .370


Old China and its People



HE must be dead to all noble thoughts who can tread
the venerable continent of Asia without profound
emotion. Beyond any other part of the earth, its
soil teems with historic associations. Here was the birthplace
of the human race. Here first appeared civilization. Here
were born art and science, learning and philosophy. Here man
first engaged in commerce and manufacture. And here
emerged all the religious teachers who have most powerfully
influenced mankind, for it was in Asia in an unknown antiquity
that the Persian Zoroaster taught the dualism of good and
evil; that the Indian Gautama 600 years before Christ declared
that self-abnegation was the path to a dreamless Nirvana; that
less than a century later the Chinese Lao-tse enunciated the
mysteries of Taoism and Confucius uttered his maxims
regarding the five earthly relations of man, to be followed within
another century by the bold teaching of Mencius that kings
should rule in righteousness. In Asia it was 1,000 years
afterwards that the Arabian Mohammed proclaimed himself as the
authoritative prophet. There the God and Father of us all
revealed Himself to Hebrew sage and prophet in the night vision
and the angelic form and the still, small voice; and in Asia are
the village in which was cradled and the great altar of the
world on which was crucified the Son of God.

We of the West boast of our national history. But how brief
is our day compared with the succession of world powers which
Asia has seen.

Chaldea began the march of kingdoms 2,200 years before
Christ. Its proud king, Chedor-laomer, ruled from the Persian
Gulf to the sources of the Euphrates, and from the Zagros
Mountains to the Mediterranean. Then Egypt arose to rule
not only over the northeastern part of Africa, but over half of
Arabia and all of the preceding territory of Chaldea. Assyria
followed, stretching from the Black Sea nearly half-way down
the Persian Gulf and from the Mediterranean to the eastern
boundary of modern Persia. Babylon, too, was once a world
power whose monarch sat

``High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind.''[1]

[1] Milton, ``Paradise Lost,'' Book II.

Persia was mightier still. Two thousand years before America
was heard of, while France and Germany, England and Spain,
were savage wildernesses, Persia was the abode of civilization
and culture, of learning and eloquence. Her empire extended
from the Indus to the Danube and from the Oxus to the Nile,
embracing twenty satrapies each one of whose governors was
well-nigh a king. Alexander the Great, too, at the head of
his invincible army, swept over vast areas of Asia, capturing
cities, unseating rulers, and bringing well-nigh all the civilized
world under his dominion. And was not Rome also an Asiatic
power, for it stretched not only from the firths of Scotland
on the north to the deserts of Africa on the south, but
from the Atlantic Ocean on the west to the River Euphrates on
the east.

Altogether it is a majestic but awful procession, overwhelming
us by its grandeur and yet no less by its horror. It is
a kaleidoscope on a colossal scale, whose pieces appear like
fragments of a broken universe. Empires rise and fall.
Thrones are erected and overturned. The mightiest creations
of man vanish. Yea, they have all waxed ``old as doth a garment,''
and ``as a vesture'' are they ``changed.''

But were these ancient nations the last of Asia? Has that
mighty continent nothing more to contribute to the world than
the memories of a mighty past? It is impossible to believe
that this is all. The historic review gives a momentum which
the mind cannot easily overcome. As we look towards the Far
East, we can plainly see that the evolution is incomplete.
Whatever purpose the Creator had in mind has certainly not yet been
accomplished. More than two-thirds of those innumerable
myriads have as yet never heard of those high ideals of life and
destiny which God Himself revealed to men. It is incredible
that a wise God should have made such a large part of the
world only to arrest its development at its present unfinished
stage, inconceivable that He should have made and preserved
so large a part of the human race for no other and higher purpose
than has yet been achieved.

Within this generation, a new Asiatic power has suddenly
appeared in a part of Asia far removed from the region in which
the wise men of old lived and studied, and the might of
that nation is even now checking the progress of huge and
haughty Russia. But brilliant as has been the meteoric career
of Japan, there is another race in Asia, which, though now
moving more sluggishly, has possibilities of development that
may in time make it a dominant factor in the future of the
world. Great forces are now operating on that race and it is
the purpose of this book to give some account of those forces
and to indicate the stupendous transformation which they are
slowly but surely producing.

The magnitude of China is almost overwhelming. In spite
of all that I had read, I was amazed by what I saw. To say
that the Empire has an area of 4,218,401 square miles is almost
like saying that it is 255,000,000,000 miles to the North Star;
the statement conveys no intelligible idea. The mind is only
confused by such enormous figures. But it may help us to remember
that China is one-third larger than all Europe, and that if the
United States and Alaska could be laid upon China there
would be room left for several Great Britains. Extending from
the fifty-fourth parallel of latitude southward to the eighteenth,
the Empire has every variety of climate from arctic cold to
tropic heat. It is a land of vast forests, of fertile soil, of rich
minerals, of navigable rivers. The very fact that it has so long
sustained such a vast population suggests the richness of its
resources. There are said to be 600,000,000 acres of arable soil,
and so thriftily is it cultivated that many parts of the Empire
are almost continuous gardens and fields. Four hundred and
nineteen thousand square miles are believed to be underlaid
with coal. Baron von Richthofen thinks that 600,000,000,000
tons of it are anthracite, and that the single Province of Shen-si
could supply the entire world for a thousand years. When we
add to this supply of coal the apparently inexhaustible deposits
of iron ore, we have the two products on which material greatness
largely depends.

The population proves to be even greater than was supposed,
for while 400,000,000 was formerly believed to be a maximum
estimate, the general census recently taken by the Chinese
Government for the purpose of assessing the war tax places the
population of the Empire at 426,000,000. This, however,
includes 8,500,000 in Manchuria, 2,580,000 in Mongolia,
6,430,020 in Tibet and 1,200,000 in Chinese Turkestan.
Some of these regions are only nominally Chinese. Those on
the western frontier were until comparatively recent years
almost as unknown as the poles. Sven Hedin's description of
those that he traversed is wonderfully fascinating. Only a
daring spirit, the explorer of the type that is born, not made,
could have pierced those vast solitudes and wrested from them
the secret of their existence. That Hedin had no money for
such a costly quest could not deter this Viking of the Northland.
Kings headed the subscription and others so eagerly followed
that ample funds were soon in hand. Princes helped with
equipment and counsel. The Czar made all Russian railways
free highways, and every local official and nomad chieftain
exerted himself to aid the expedition. Hedin does not claim
to give anything more than an ordered diary of his travels,
together with a description of the lands he explored and the
peoples he found. But what a diary it is! It takes the reader
away from the whirl of crowded cities and clanging trolley-cars
into the boundless, wind-swept desert and the solitude of
majestic mountains where the lonely traveller wanders with his
camels through untrodden wildernesses or floats down the
interminable stretches of unknown rivers, while night after
night he sleeps in his tiny tent or under the open sky. The
author failed to reach the long-sought Lassa, the suspicious
Dalai Lama refusing to be deceived or cajoled and sternly sending
the inquisitive traveller out of the country. But the expedition
of three years and three days was rich in other disclosures of
ruined cities and great watercourses and lofty plateaus and
majestic mountain ranges. The population is sparse in those
desolate wastes, and the scattered inhabitants are wild and
uncouth and free.

Manchuria, however, is far from being the barren country
that so many imagine it to be. It is, in many respects, like
Canada, a region embracing about 370,000 square miles and of
almost boundless agricultural and mineral wealth. The
population, save in the southern parts, is not yet dense but it is
rapidly increasing.

But in central and eastern China, the conditions are very
different. Here the population can only be indicated by a
figure so large that it is almost impossible for us to comprehend
it. Consider that the eighteen provinces alone, with an
area about equal to that part of the United States east of the
Mississippi River, have eight times the population of that
part of our country.

``There are twice as many people in China as on the four continents--
Africa, North and South America and Oceanica. Every third person
who toils under the sun and sleeps under God's stars is a Chinese.
Every third child born into the world looks into the face of a Chinese
mother. Every third pair given in marriage plight their troth in a
Chinese cup of wine. Every third orphan weeping through the day
every third widow wailing through the night are in China. Put them in
rank, joining hands, and they will girdle the globe ten times at the
equator with living, beating human hearts. Constitute them pilgrims and let
two thousand go past every day and night under the sunlight and
under the solemn stars, and you must hear the ceaseless tramp, tramp, of
the weary, pressing, throbbing throng for five hundred years.''[2]

[2] The Rev. J. T. Gracey, D. D., ``China in Outline,'' p. 10.

There is something amazing in the immensity of the population.
Great cities are surprisingly numerous. In America, a
city of nearly a million inhabitants is a wonderful place and all
the world is supposed to know about it. But while Canton and
Tien-tsin are tolerably familiar names, how many in the United
States ever heard of Hsiang-tan-hsien ? Yet Hsiang-tan-
hsien is said to have 1,000,000 inhabitants, while within comparatively
short distances are other great cities and innumerable
villages. In the Swatow region, within a territory a
hundred and fifty miles long and fifty miles wide, there are no
less than ten walled cities of from 40,000 to 250,000 inhabitants,
besides hundreds of towns and villages ranging from a few
hundred to 25,000 or 30,000 people. Men never tire of writing
about the population adjacent to New York, Boston and
Chicago. But in five weeks' constant journeying through the
interior of the Shantung Province, there was hardly an hour in
which multitudes were not in sight. There are no scattered
farmhouses as in America, but the people live in villages and
towns, the latter strongly walled and even the former often have
a mud wall. As the country is comparatively level, it was easy
to count them, and as a rule there were a dozen or more in
plain view. I recall a memorable morning. It was Friday,
June 28, 1901. We had risen early, and by daylight we had
breakfasted, and started our carts and litters. In our enjoyment
of the cool, delicious morning air, we walked for several
li. Just before the sun rose, we crossed a low ridge and from
its crest, I counted no less than thirty villages in front of us,
while behind there were about as many more, the average
population being apparently about 500 each. For days at a time,
my road lay through the narrow, crowded street of what seemed
to be an almost continuous village, the intervening farms being
often hardly more than a mile in width.

Imagine half the population of the United States packed into
the single state of Missouri and an idea of the situation will be
obtained, for with an area almost equal to that of Missouri,
Shantung has no less than 38,247,900 inhabitants. It is the
most densely populated part of China. But the Province of
Shan-si is as thickly settled as Hungary. Fukien and Hupeh
have about as many inhabitants to the square mile as England.
Chih-li is as populous as France and Yun-nan as Bulgaria.

The density of China's population may be better realized by
a glance at the following detailed comparison between the
population of Chinese provinces and the population of similar
areas in the United States:

Provinces Square miles Population
Hupeh, 71,410 35,280,685
Ohio and Indiana 76,670 5,864,720
Honan, 67,940 35,316,800
Cheh-kiang, 36,670 1
Kentucky, 40,000 1,858,635
Kiang-si, 6819,47580 26 532,125
Virginia and West Virginia, 64}776oo 7,fi50S282
Michigan and Wisconsin, 111,880 22,876 340
Georgia, 50,g80 1,837 353
Shantung, 62 ooo 4 7רר 945
Shan-si, 81 830 12 200 456
Illinois, S6,ooo 3,826,8S l
Shen-si, 776 8240 1 058,910
Ran-su, Icc.q80 10~385~376
California, 155,9 1,208,130
Sze-chuen, 218,480 68 724,890
Ohio, Ind., Ill., Ky., 173s430 11 350,219
Ngan-hwei, 54,810 23,670,314
New York, 47,600 5,997,853
Klang-su, 38,600 13,980,235
Pennsylvania, 44,985 5,258,014
Kwan-tung and Hainan, gg,g70 31,865,251
Kansas, 81,700 I,427,o96
Kwang-si, 77,200 5,142,330
Minnesota, 79,205 x ,301,826
Hunan, 83,380 22,169,673
Louisiana, 45,ooo Iw1

Perhaps the most thoroughly typical city in China is Canton.
The approach by way of the West River from Hongkong
gives the traveller a view of some of the finest scenery in China.
The green rice-fields, the villages nestling beneath the groves,
the stately palm-trees, the quaint pagodas, the broad, smooth
reaches of the river reflecting the glories of sunset and moon-
rises and the noble hills in the background combine to form a
scene worth journeying far to see.

But Canton itself is unique among the world's great cities,
and the most sated traveller cannot fail to find much that will
interest him. After much journeying in China, we thought we
had seen its typical places, but no one has seen China until he
has visited Canton. With an estimated population of 1,800,000,
it is the metropolis of the Empire. The number of people
per acre may be less than in some parts of the East Side in New
York, for the houses are only one story in height. But the
crowding is amazing. The streets are mere alleys from four to
eight feet wide, lined with open-front shops, so filled overhead
with perpendicular signs and cross coverings of bamboo poles
and mattings that they are in as perpetual shade as an African
forest, and so choked with people that men often had to back
into a shop to let our chairs pass. No wheeled vehicle can
enter those corkscrew streets and we saw no animal of any kind
save two cows that were being led to slaughter.

And the hubbub! Such shouting and yelling cannot be
heard anywhere else in the world. Our chair coolies were in a
constant state of objurgation in clearing a way. Everybody
seemed to be bellowing to everybody else and when two chairs
met, the din shattered the atmosphere. A foreigner excites a
surprising amount of curiosity, considering the number that
visit Canton. Troops of boys followed us and there was a good
deal of what sounded like cat-calling. But it was all good-
natured, or appeared to be.

The unpretentious shop-fronts often beckon to mysteries that
are well worth penetrating--tobacco factories where coolies
stamp the leaves with bare feet; tea, gold, dye and embroidery
shops where designs of exquisite delicacy are exhibited; silk-
weaving factories where fine fabrics are made on the simplest of
looms; feather shops where breastpins and other ornaments
are made of tiny bits of feathers on a silver base--a work
requiring almost incredible nicety of vision and such strain upon
the eyes that the operators often become blind by forty. Another
curiosity is a shop where crickets are reared for fighting
as the Filipino fights cocks and the Anglo-Saxon fights dogs.
The Chinese gamble on the result and a good fighting cricket is
sometimes sold for $100. The attendant put a couple in a jar
for our alleged amusement and they began fighting fiercely.
But I promptly stopped the melee as I did not enjoy such sport.

The river is one of the sights of China. It is crowded with
boats of all sizes. The owner of each lives on it with his
family, the babies having ropes tied to them so that if they
tumble into the water, they can be pulled out.

Altogether, it is a remarkable city. Viewed from the famous
Five-Story Pagoda, on a high part of the old city wall, it is a
swarming hive of humanity. As one looks out on those myriads
of toiling, struggling, sorrowing men and women, he is
conscious of a new sense of the pathos and the tragedy of human
life. If I may adapt the words of the Rev. Dr. Richard S.
Storrs on the heights above Naples, at the Church of San Mar-
tino, on the way to St. Elmo--I suppose that every one who
has ever stood on the balcony of that lofty pagoda ``has
noticed, as I remember to have noticed, that all the sounds
coming up from that populous city, as they reached the upper
air, met and mingled on the minor key. There were the voices
of traffic, and the voices of command, the voices of affection
and the voices of rebuke, the shouts of sailors, and the cries of
itinerant venders in the street, with the chatter and the laugh
of childhood; but they all came up into this incessant moan in
the air. That is the voice of the world in the upper air, where
there are spirits to hear it. That is the cry of the world for

[3] ``Address on Foreign Missions,'' pp. 178, 179.



TOO much has been made of the peculiarities of the
Chinese, ignoring the fact that many customs and
traits that appear peculiar to us are simply the differences
developed by environment. Eliza Scidmore affirms that
``no one knows or ever really will know the Chinese, the most
comprehensible, inscrutable, contradictory, logical, illogical
people on earth.'' But a Chinese gentleman, who was
educated in the United States, justly retorts: ``Behold the
American as he is, as I honestly found him--great, small, good, bad,
self-glorious, egotistical, intellectual, supercilious, ignorant,
superstitious, vain and bombastic. In truth,'' he adds, ``so
very remarkable, so contradictory, so incongruous have I found
the American that I hesitate.''[4]

[4] ``As a Chinaman Saw Us,'' pp. 1, 2.

The Chinese are, indeed, very different from western peoples
in some of their customs.

``They mount a horse on the right side instead of the left. The old
men play marbles and fly kites, while children look gravely on. They
shake hands with themselves instead of with each other. What we call
the surname is written first and the other name afterwards. A coffin is a
very acceptable present to a rich parent in good health. In the north
they sail and pull their wheelbarrows in place of merely pushing them.

China is a country where the roads have no carriages and the
ships have no keels; where the needle points to the south, the place of
honour is on the left hand, and the seat of intellect is supposed to lie in the
stomach; where it is rude to take off your hat, and to wear white clothes
is to go into mourning. Can one be astonished to find a literature without
an alphabet and a language without a grammar?''[5]

[5] Temple Bar, quoted in Smith's ``Rex Christus,'' p. 115.

It would never occur to us to commit suicide in order to
spite another. But in China such suicides occur every day,
because it is believed that a death on the premises is a lasting
curse to the owner. And so the Chinese drowns himself in his
enemy's well or takes poison on his foe's door-step. Only a
few months ago, a rich Chinese murdered an employee in a
British colony, and knowing that inexorable British law would
not be satisfied until some one was punished, he hired a poor
Chinese named Sack Chum to confess to having committed the
murder and to permit himself to be hung, the real murderer
promising to give him a good funeral and to care for his family.
An Englishman who thought this an incredible story wrote a
letter of inquiry to an intelligent Chinese merchant of his
acquaintance and received the following reply:

``Nothing strange to Chinamen. Sack Chum, old man, no money, soon
die. Every day in China such thing. Chinaman not like white man--
not afraid to die. Suppose some one pay his funeral, take care his family.
`I die,' he say. Chinaman know Sack Chum, we suppose, sell himself to
men who kill Ah Chee. Somebody must die for them. Sack Chum say
he do it. All right. Police got him. What for they want more?''

These things appear odd from our view-point and there are
many other peculiarities that are equally strange to us. But it
may be wholesome for us to remember that some of our customs
impress the Chinese no less oddly. The Frankfurter Zeitung,
Germany, prints the following from a Chinese who had seen
much of the Europeans and Americans in Shanghai:

``We are always told that the countries of the foreign devils are grand
and rich; but that cannot be true, else what do they all come here for?
It is here that they grow rich. They jump around and kick balls as if
they were paid to do it. Again you will find them making long tramps
into the country; but that is probably a religious duty, for when they
tramp they wave sticks in the air, nobody knows why. They have no
sense of dignity, for they may be found walking with women. Yet the
women are to be pitied, too. On festive occasions they are dragged
around a room to the accompaniment of the most hellish music.''

A Chinese resident in America wrote to his friends at home
a letter from which the following extract is taken:

``What is queerer still, men will stroll out in company with their wives
in broad daylight without a blush. And will you believe that men and
women take hold of each other's hands by way of salutation? Oh, I have
seen it myself more than once. After all, what can you expect of folk
who have been brought up in barbarous countries on the very verge of
the world? They have not been taught the maxims of our sages; they
never heard of the Rites; how can they know what good manners mean?
We often think them rude and insolent when I'm sure they don't mean it
they're ignorant, that's all.''[6]

[6] Smith, ``Rex Christus,'' p. 116.

A call that I made upon a high official in an interior city
developed a curious interest. He was a pale, thin man,
apparently an opium smoker and a mandarin of the old school.
But he was intelligent enough to ask me not only about ``the
twenty-story buildings of New York,'' but ``the differences
between the various Protestant sects,'' and in particular about
``the Mormons and their strength!'' Who could have
imagined that the Latter Day Saints of Utah could be known to a
Chinese nobleman of Chih-li? Verily, our own idiosyncrasies
are known afar.

It will thus be seen that mutual recriminations regarding
national peculiarities are not likely to be convincing to either
party. Human nature is much the same the world over. From
this view-point at least we may discreetly remember that

``There is so much bad in the best of us,
And so much good in the worst of us,
That it hardly behoves any of us
To talk about the rest of us.''

I do not mean to give an exaggerated impression of the
virtues of the Chinese or what Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop calls
``a milk-and-water idea'' of heathenism. Undoubtedly, they
have grave defects. Official corruption is well-nigh universal.
A correspondent of the North China Herald reports a well-
informed Chinese gentleman of the Province of Chih-li as
expressing the conviction that one-half the land tax never reaches
the Government. ``But that is not all,'' said he.

``There are other sources of income for the hsien official. Thus here
in this county, thirty-five or forty years ago, the Government imposed an
extra tax for the purpose of putting down the Tai-ping rebellion, and the
officials have continued to collect that tax ever since. Of course if the
literati should move in the matter and report to Paoting-fu, the magistrate
would be bounced at once; but they are not likely to do so. The tax is a
small one, my own share not being more than five dollars or so.''

China's whole public service is rotten with corruption.
Offices with merely nominal salaries or none at all are usually
bought by the payment of a heavy bribe and held for a term of
three years, during which the incumbent seeks not only to
recoup himself but to make as large an additional sum as
possible. As the weakness of the Government and the absence of
an outspoken public press leave them free from restraint, China
is the very paradise of embezzlers. ``Any man who has had the
least occasion to deal with Chinese courts knows that `every
man has his price,' that not only every underling can be
bought, but that 999 out of every 1,000 officials, high or low,
will favour the man who offers the most money.''[7] Dishonesty
is not, as with the white race, simply the recourse in emergency
of the unscrupulous man. It is the habitual practice, the rule
of intercourse of all classes. The Chinese apparently have no
conscience on the subject, but appear to deem it quite praise-
worthy to deceive you if they can.

[7] Rev. Dr. C. H. Fenn, Peking.

Gambling is openly, shamelessly indulged in by all classes.
As for immorality, the Rev. Dr. J. Campbell Gibson of Swatow
says that ``while the Chinese are not a moral people, vice has
never in China as in India, been made a branch of religion.''
But the Rev. Dr. C. H. Fenn, of Peking, declares ``that every
village and town and city--it would not be a very serious ex-
aggeration to say every home,--fairly reeks with impurity.''
The Chinese are, indeed, less openly immoral than the Japanese,
while their venerated books abound with the praises of virtue.
But medical missionaries could tell a dark story of the extent
to which immorality eats into the very warp and woof of
Chinese society. The five hundred monks in the Lama
Temple in Peking are notorious not only for turbulence and
robbery, but for vice. The temple is in a spacious park and
includes many imposing buildings. The statue of Buddha is
said to be the largest in China--a gilded figure about sixty feet
high--colossal and rather awe-inspiring in ``the dim religious
light.'' But in one of the temple buildings, where the two
monks who accompanied us said that daily prayers were
chanted, I saw representations in brass and gilt that were as
filthily obscene as anything that I saw in India. There is
immorality in lands that are called Christian, but it is disavowed
by Christianity, ostracized by decent people and under the ban
of the civil law. But Buddhism puts immorality in its temples
and the Government supports it. This particular temple has
the yellow tiled roofs that are only allowed on buildings
associated with the Imperial Court or that are under special
Imperial protection. Mr. E. H. Parker, after twenty years'
experience in China, writes,

``The Chinese are undoubtedly a libidinous people, with a decided
inclination to be nasty about it. . . . Rich mandarins are the most
profligate class. . . . Next come the wealthy merchants. . . . The
crapulous leisured classes of Peking openly flaunt the worst of vices.

Still, amongst all classes and ranks the moral sense is decidedly
weak. . . . Offenses which with us are regarded as almost capital--
in any case as infamous crimes--do not count for as much as petty
misdemeanours in China.[8]

[8] ``China,'' pp. 272, 273

More patent to the superficial observer is a cruelty which
appears to be callously indifferent to suffering. This manifests
itself not only in most barbarous punishments but in a thou-
sand incidents of daily life. The day I entered China at
Chefoo, I saw a dying man lying beside the road. Hundreds
of Chinese were passing and repassing on the crowded
thoroughfare. But none stopped to help or to pity and the sufferer
passed through his last agony absolutely uncared for and lay
with glazing eyes and stiffening form all unheeded by the
careless throng. Twenty-four hours afterwards, he was still lying
there with his dead face upturned to the silent sky, while the
world jostled by, buying, laughing, quarrelling, heedless of the
tragedy of human life so near. And when in Ching-chou-fu, I
stopped to see if I could not give some relief to a woman who
was writhing in the street, I was hastily warned that if I
touched her unasked, the populace might hold me responsible
in the event of her death and perhaps demand heavy damages,
if, indeed, it did not mob me on the spot. Undoubtedly the
Chinese are often deterred from aiding a sufferer because they
fear that if death occurs ``bad luck'' will follow them, a horde of
real or fictitious relatives will clamour for damages, and perhaps a
rapacious magistrate will take advantage of the opportunity to
make a criminal charge which can be removed only by a heavy
bribe. And so the sick and poor are often left to die uncared
for in crowded streets, and drowning children are allowed to
sink within a few yards of boats which might have rescued
them. But everywhere in China, little attention is paid to
suffering and many customs seem utterly heartless.

In spite, too, of the agnostic teachings of Confucius and
their own practical temperament, the Chinese are a very
superstitious people and live in constant terror of evil spirits. The
grossest superstitions prevail among them, while beyond any
other people known to us they are stagnant, spiritually dead,
densely ignorant of those higher levels of thought and life to
which Christianity has raised whole classes in Europe and

Some people who are ignorant of the real situation in China
are being misled by an anonymous little book entitled ``Letters
From a Chinese Official.'' The author insists that Anglo-Saxon
institutions are far inferior to the institutions of China. He
declares that ``our religion (Chinese) is more rational than
yours, our morality higher and our institutions more perfect,''
and that there is less real happiness in Europe and America
than in China. As for Christianity, he regards it as quite
impracticable. He holds that Confucianism is feasible and that
Christianity is not, and much more to the same effect. There
is strong internal evidence that the author is not a Chinese at all,
but a cynical European. At any rate, the book is an ex parte
statement of the most glaring kind, omitting the good in
Europe and America and the bad in China. One who has
visited the Celestial Empire gasps when he reads that the
Chinese houses are ``cheerful and clean,'' that the Chinese live the
life of the mind and the spirit to a far higher degree than the
Christian peoples of the West, and that Chinese life has a
dignity and peace and beauty which Europe cannot equal. ``Such
silence! Such sounds! Such perfume! Such colour!''
the author rhapsodizes. Bishop Graves, of Shanghai, who has
spent a quarter of a century in China and who is therefore
presumably competent to speak, declares:

``Far be it from me to belittle the beauty of the Chinese landscape;
but why did he not leave out that about the perfume? Why, you can
smell China out at sea! However, it is just as easy to imagine the
perfume as the rest of it, while you are writing. . . . Exaggeration is
the most conspicuous note of these `Letters.' Any one who has not
seen China can test whether this book is true to fact by comparing it with
any narrative of sober travel, and if he happens to live in China, his own
nose and eyes are a sufficient witness. . . . The writer takes the
worst of our morals, the weakest of our religion, the most debasing of our
industrial conditions, the most pernicious of our vices, and against them
he sets not the best that China can show, but an exaggerated picture
which is false to fact. This is not argument but trickery, because it
presumes on the fact that one's readers will know no better.''

Indeed, the Rev. Dr. C. H. Fenn, who has resided in
Peking for ten years, writes that he cannot believe that the
author of ``Letters from a Chinese Official'' is a sincere man.
He continues:

``I would be almost willing to assert that it is impossible for a man,
brought up in China, then spending many years abroad, to return to China
and write such a book in honesty and sincerity of heart. He could not
possibly help knowing that nine-tenths of what he was writing about
China was absolutely untrue, that her political, legal, social, domestic and
personal life are rotten to the core, and that only in a few exceptional
cases is any pretence even made of living according to the ethics of
Confucius. It might be possible for an educated man, whose surroundings
had always been of an exceptionally good character, and who had never
gone outside of his own province or studied foreign books, to write with
some enthusiasm of the beauties of Chinese life, but not for any one else.''

Still, at a time when the Chinese are being vociferously
abused, it is only fair that we should give them credit for the
good qualities which they do possess. I ask with Dr. William
Elliott Griffis: ``In talking of our brother men, what shall
be our general principle, detraction or fair play? Because
lackadaisical writers picture the Christless nations as in the
innocence of Eden, shall we, at the antipodes of fact and
truth, proceed to blacken their characters? Shall we compare
the worst in Canton, Benares or Zululand, with the best in London,
Berlin or Philadelphia? Surely God cannot look with
complacency or hear with delight much of the practical slander
spoken among white folks and Anglo-Saxons of His children
and our brothers.''

There has been too much of a disposition to think of the
Chinese as a mass, almost as we would regard immense herds
of cattle or shoals of fish. Why not rather think of the
Chinese as an individual, as a man of like passions with
ourselves? Physically, mentally, and morally he differs from us
only in degree, not in kind. He has essentially the same hopes
and fears, the same joys and sorrows, the same susceptibility to
pain and the same capacity for happiness. Are we not told
that God ``hath made of one blood all nations of men''?
We complacently imagine that we are superior to the Chinese.
But discussing the question as to what constitutes superiority
and inferiority of race, Benjamin Kidd declares that ``we shall
have to set aside many of our old ideas on the subject. Neither
in respect alone of colour, nor of descent, nor even of the
possession of high intellectual capacity, can science give us any
warrant for speaking of one race as superior to another.'' Real
superiority is the result, not so much of anything inherent in
one race as distinguished from another, as of the operation
upon a race and within it of certain uplifting forces. Any
superiority that we now possess is due to the action upon us of
these forces. But they can be brought to bear upon the
Chinese as well as upon us. We should avoid the popular
mistake of looking at the Chinese ``as if they were merely
animals with a toilet, and never see the great soul in a man's
face.''[9] ``There is nothing,'' says Stopford Brooke, ``that needs
so much patience as just judgment of a man. We ought to
know his education, the circumstances of his life, the friends
he has made or lost, his temperament, his daily work, the
motives which filled the act, the health he had at the time--we
ought to have the knowledge of God to judge him justly.''

[9] George Eliot.

We need in this study a truer idea of the worth and dignity
of man as man, a realization that back of almond eyes and under
a yellow skin are all the faculties and the possibilities of a
human soul, to grasp the great thought that the Chinese is not
only a man, but our brother man, made like ourselves in the
image of God. Let us have the charity which sees beneath all
external peculiarities our common humanity, which leads us to
respect a man because he is a man; which, no matter what
complexion he may have, no matter where he lives, no matter
to what degradation he has fallen, will take him by the hand
and endeavour to elevate him to a higher plane of life. For
him we need an enthusiasm for humanity which shall not be a
sentimental rhetoric, but a catholic, throbbing love, remembering
that he is

``Heir of the same inheritance,
Child of the self-same God,
He hath but stumbled in the path
We have in weakness trod.''

Ruskin reminds us that the filthy mud from the street of a
manufacturing town is composed of clay, sand, soot and water;
that the clay may be purified into the radiance of the sapphire;
that the sand may be developed into the beauty of the opal; that
the soot may be crystallized into the glory of the diamond and
that the water may be changed into a star of snow. So man in
Asia as well as in America may, by the transforming power of
God's Spirit, be ennobled into the kingly dignity of divine
sonship. We shall get along best with the Chinese if we remember
that he is a human being like ourselves, responsive to kindness,
appreciative of justice and capable of moral transformation
under the influence of the Gospel. He differs from us not
in the fundamental things that make for manhood, but only in
the superficial things that are the result of environment. From
this view-point, we can say with Shakespeare:--

``There is some sort of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out.''

Those who are wont to refer so contemptuously to the Chinese
might profitably recall that when, in Dickens' ``Christmas
Carol,'' the misanthropic Scrooge says of the poor and suffering:
``If he be like to die, he had better do it and decrease
the surplus population,''--the Ghost sternly replies:--

``Man, if man you be at heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant
until you have discovered what the surplus is and where it is. Will you
decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be that in the
sight of heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions
like this poor man's child. Ah, God! to hear the insect on the leaf
pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!''



TO understand China's attitude towards foreigners, the
following considerations must be borne in mind:--

First, the conservative temperament of the Chinese.
It is true but misleading, to say that they have ``no word or
written character for patriotism, but 150 ways of writing the
characters for good luck and longlife.'' For while the Chinese
may have little love for country, they have an intense
devotion to their own customs. For nearly 5,000 years, while
other empires have risen, flourished and fallen, they have lived
apart, sufficient unto themselves, cherishing their own ideals,
plodding along their well-worn paths, ignorant of or indifferent
to the progress of the Western world, mechanically memorizing
dead classics, and standing still comparatively amid the
tremendous onrush of modern civilization. I say comparatively
still, for if we carefully study Chinese history, we shall find
that this vast nation has not been so inert as we have long
supposed. The very revolutions and internal commotions of all
kinds through which China has passed would have prevented
mere inertia. But when we compare these movements and the
changes that they have wrought with the kaleidoscopic
transformations in Europe and America, China appears the most
stationary of nations. She has moved less in centuries than
western peoples have in decades. The restless Anglo-Saxon is
alternately irritated and awed by this massive solidity, not to
say stolidity. There is, after all, something impressive about
it, the impressiveness of a mighty glacier which moves, indeed,
but so slowly and majestically that the duration of an ordinary
nation's life appears insignificant as compared with the almost
timeless majesty of the Chinese Empire.

Second, the vastness of China. Her territory and population
are so enormous that her people found sufficient scope for
their energies within their own borders. They therefore felt
independent of outsiders. The typical European nation is so
limited in area and is so near to equally civilized and powerful
peoples that it could not if it would live unto itself. The
situation of most nations forces them into relations with others.
But China had a third of the human race and a tenth of the
habitable globe entirely to herself, with no neighbours who had
anything that she really cared for. It was inevitable, therefore,
that a naturally conservative people should become a self-
centred and self-satisfied people.

Third, the character of adjacent nations. None of them
were equal to the Chinese in civilization and learning, while in
territory and population, they were relatively insignificant.
Even Japan, by far the most powerful of them, has only a tenth
of China's population, while her remarkable progress in intelligence
and power is a matter of less than a couple generations.
Until recently, indeed, Japan was as backward as China and
was not ashamed to receive many of her ideas from her larger
neighbour, as the number of Chinese characters in the Japanese
language plainly show. As for China's other neighbours, who
were they? Weak nations which abjectly sent tribute by
commissioners who grovelled before the august Emperor of the
Middle Kingdom, or barbarous tribes which the Chinese
regarded about as Americans regard the aboriginal Indians.
Gibson translates the following passage from a Chinese historian
as illustrative at once of China's haughty contempt of
outsiders and of her reasons for it:

``The former kings in measuring out the land put the Imperial territory
in the centre. Inside was the Chinese Empire, and outside were the
barbarous nations. The barbarians are covetous and greedy of gain. Their
hair hangs down over their bodies, and their coats are buttoned on the
left side. They have human faces, but the hearts of beasts. They are
distinguished from the natives of the Empire both by their manners and
their dress. They differ both in their customs and their food, and in
language they are utterly unintelligible. . . . On this account the ancient
sage kings treated them like birds and beasts. They did not contract
treaties, nor did they attack them. To form a treaty is simply to spend
treasure and to be deceived; to attack them is simply to wear out the
troops and provoke raids. . . . Thus the outer are not to be brought
inside. They must be held at a distance, avoiding familiarity. . . . If
they show a leaning towards right principles and present tributary
offerings, they should be treated with a yielding etiquette; but bridling and
repression must never be relaxed for conforming to circumstance. Such
was the constant principle of the sage monarchs in ruling and controlling
the barbarian tribes.''

It is not surprising, therefore, that when foreigners
from the distant West sought to force their way into
China, the Chinese, knowing nothing of the countries
from which they came, should have regarded them in accordance
with their traditional belief and policy regarding the
inferiority of all outsiders.

The resultant difficulty was intensified by the
indifference, to use no harsher term, of the foreigner to
the fact that the Chinese are a very ceremonious people,
extremely punctilious in all social relations and disposed to
regard a breach of etiquette as a cardinal sin. ``Face'' is a
national institution which must be preserved at all hazards.
No one can get along with the Chinese who does not respect it.

``It is an integral part of both Chinese theory and practice that realities
are of much less importance than appearances. If the latter can be
saved, the former may be altogether surrendered. This is the essence of
that mysterious `face' of which we are never done hearing in China.
The line of Pope might be the Chinese national motto: `Act well your
part, there all the honour lies'; not, be it observed, doing well what is to be
done, but consummate acting, contriving to convey the appearance of a
thing or a fact, whatever the realities may be. This is Chinese high art;
this is success. It is self-respect, and it involves and implies the respect
of others. It is, in a word, `face.' The preservation of `face'
frequently requires that one should behave in an arbitrary and violent
manner merely to emphasize his protests against the course of current events.
He or she must fly into a violent rage, he or she must use reviling and
perhaps imprecatory language, else it will not be evident to the spectators
of the drama, in which he is at the moment acting, that he is aware just
what ought to be done by a person in his precise situation; and then he
will have `no way to descend from the stage,' or in other words, he will
have lost `face.' ''[10]

[10] Smith, ``Rex Christus,'' pp. 107, 108.

Even in death this remains the ruling passion. Chinese
coffins require much wood and are an expensive
burden in this land where timber is scarce, for Confucius said
that a coffin should be five inches thick. So the poorer
Chinese thriftily meet this requirement by making the sides and
ends hollow! Thus ``face'' is saved.

In these circumstances, it was very important that the
relations of Europeans to China should be characterized not only
by justice but by tact and at least decent respect for the
feelings and customs of the people. The chief cause of China's
hostility to foreigners undoubtedly lies in the notorious and
often contemptuous disregard of these things by the majority
of the white men who have entered China and by the Governments
which have backed them.

There is much in the Chinese that is worthy of our respectful
recognition. Multitudes are indeed, stolid and ignorant,
but multitudes, too, have strong, intelligent features. Thousands
of children have faces as bright and winning as those of
American children. More strongly than ever do I feel that
Europe and America have not done justice to the character of
the Chinese. I do not refer to the bigoted and corrupt Manchu
officials, or to the lawless barbarians who, like the ``lewd fellows
of the baser sort'' in other lands, are ever ready to follow the
leadership of a demagogue. But I refer to the Chinese people
as a whole. Their view-point is so radically different from
ours that we have often harshly misjudged them, when the real
trouble has lain in our failure to understand them.

Let us be free enough from prejudice and passion to respect
a people whose national existence has survived the mutations
of a definitely known historic period of thirty-seven centuries
and of an additional legendary period that runs back no man
knows how far into the haze of a hoary antiquity; who are
frugal, patient, industrious and respectful to parents, as we are
not; whose astronomers made accurate recorded observations
200 years before Abraham left Ur; who used firearms at the
beginning of the Christian era; who first grew tea, manufactured
gunpowder, made pottery, glue and gelatine; who wore
silk and lived in houses when our ancestors wore the undressed
skins of wild animals and slept in caves; who invented printing
by movable types 500 years before that art was known in
Europe; who discovered the principles of the mariner's compass
without which the oceans could not be crossed, conceived
the idea of artificial inland waterways and dug a canal 600
miles long; who made mountain roads which, in the opinion of
Dr. S. Wells Williams, ``when new probably equalled in
engineering and construction anything of the kind ever built by
Romans;'' and who invented the arch to which our modern
architecture is so greatly indebted.

In the Great Bell Temple two miles from Peking is one of
the wonderful bells of the world. It is fourteen feet high,
thirty-four feet in circumference at the rim, nine inches thick
and weighs 120,000 pounds. It is literally covered inside and
out with Chinese characters consisting of extracts from the
sacred writings, and the Rev. Dr. John Wherry, who is an
expert in the Chinese language, says that there is ``not one
imperfect character among them.'' The bell when struck by
the big wooden clapper emits a deep musical note that can be
heard for miles. Such a magnificent bell vividly illustrates
the stage of civilization reached by the Chinese while Europe
was comparatively barbarous, for the bell was cast as far back
as 1406 in the reign of Yung-loh, and the present temple buildings
were erected about it in 1578. The Germans began using
paper in 1190, but Sven Hedin found Chinese paper 1,650
years old and there is evidence that paper was in common use
by the Chinese 150 years before Christ. Until a few hundred
years ago, European business was conducted on the basis of
coin or barter. But long before that, the Chinese had banks
and issued bills of exchange. There has recently been placed
in the British Museum a bank-note issued by Hung-Wu, Emperor
of China, in 1368.

The Chinese exalt learning and, alone among the nations of
the earth, make scholarship a test of fitness for official position.
True, that scholarship moves along narrow lines of Confucian
classics, but surely such knowledge is a higher qualification for
office than the brute strength which for centuries gave precedence
among our ancestors. A Chinese writer explains as follows
the gradations in relative worth as they are esteemed by
his countrymen: ``First the scholar: because mind is superior
to wealth, and it is the intellect that distinguishes man above
the lower orders of beings, and enables him to provide food
and raiment and shelter for himself and for other creatures.
Second, the farmer: because the mind cannot act without the
body, and the body cannot exist without food, so that farming
is essential to the existence of man, especially in civilized
society. Third, the mechanic: because next to food, shelter
is a necessity, and the man who builds a house comes next in
honour to the man who provides food. Fourth, the tradesman:
because, as society increases and its wants are multiplied,
men to carry on exchange and barter become a necessity,
and so the merchant comes into existence. His occupation
--shaving both sides, the producer and consumer--tempts him
to act dishonestly; hence his low grade. Fifth, the soldier
stands last and lowest in the list, because his business is to
destroy and not to build up society. He consumes what others
produce, but produces nothing himself that can benefit mankind.
He is, perhaps, a necessary evil.''[11]

[11] Quoted by Beach, ``Dawn on the Hills of T'ang,'' pp. 45, 46.

While the Government of China is a paternal despotism in
form and while it is always weak and corrupt and often cruel
and tyrannical in practice, nevertheless there is a larger measure
of individual freedom than might be supposed. ``There are
no passports, no restraints on liberty, no frontiers, no caste
prejudices, no food scruples, no sanitary measures, no laws
except popular customs and criminal statutes. China is in
many senses one vast republic, in which personal restraints
have no existence.''[12]

[12] E. H Parker, ``China.''

We must not form our opinion from the Chinese whom we
see in the United States. True, most of them are kindly,
patient and industrious, while some are highly intelligent.
But, with comparatively few exceptions, they are from the
lower classes of a single province of Kwan-tung--Cantonese
coolies. The Chinese might as fairly form their opinion of
Americans from our day-labourers. But there are able men in
the Celestial Empire. Bishop Andrews returned from China
to characterize the Chinese as ``a people of brains.'' When
Viceroy Li Hung Chang visited this country, all who met him
unhesitatingly pronounced him a great man. The New York
Tribune characterizes the late Liu Kun Yi, Viceroy of Nanking,
as a man who ``rendered inestimable services to China and to
the whole world,'' ``a man of action, who acted with a strong
hand and masterful leadership and at the same time with a
justice and a generosity that made him at once feared, respected
and loved.''

After General Grant's tour around the world, he told Senator
Stewart that the most astonishing thing which he had seen was
that wherever the Chinese had come into competition with the
Jew, the Chinese had driven out the Jew. We know the
persistence of the Jew, that he has held his own against every
other people. Despite the fact that he has no home and no
Government, that he has been ridiculed and persecuted by all
men, that everywhere he is an alien in race, country and
religion, he has laboured on, patiently, resolutely, distancing
every rival, surmounting every obstacle, compelling even his
enemies to acknowledge his shrewdness and his determination
till to-day in Russia, in Austria, in Germany, in England, the
Jew is bitterly conceded to be master in the editorial chair, at
the bar, in the universities, in the counting-house and in the
banking office; while the proudest of monarchs will undertake
no enterprise requiring large expenditure until he is assured of
the support of the keen-eyed, swarthy-visaged men who control
the sinews of war. Generations of exclusion from agriculture
and the mechanical arts and of devotion to commerce, have
developed and inbred in the Jew a marvellous facility for trade.

And yet this race, which has so abundantly demonstrated its
ability to cope with the Greek, the Slav and the Teuton, finds
itself outreached in cunning, outworn in persistence and over-
matched in strength by an olive-complexioned, almond-eyed
fellow with felt shoes, baggy trousers, loose tunic, round cap
and swishing queue, who represents such swarming myriads
that the mind is confused in the attempt to comprehend the
enormous number. The canny Scotchman and the shrewd
Yankee are alike discomfited by the Chinese. Those who do
not believe it should ask the American and European traders
who are being crowded out of Saigon, Shanghai, Bangkok,
Singapore, Penang, Batavia and Manila. In many of the ports
of Asia outside of China, the Chinese have shown themselves
to be successful colonizers, able to meet competition, so that
to-day they own the most valuable property and control the
bulk of the trade. It is true that the Chinese are inordinately
conceited; but shades of the Fourth of July orator, screams of
the American eagle! it requires considerable self-possession in
a Yankee to criticize any one else on the planet for conceit.
The Chinese have not, at least, padded a census to make the
world believe that they are greater than they really are. In
June, 1903, the same New York newspaper that gave the horrible
details of the burning of a negro by an American mob
within thirty miles of Philadelphia announced that a Chinese,
Chung Hui Wang, had taken the highest honours in the graduating
class at Yale University. Another New York journal, in
commenting on the fact that Chao Chu, son of the former
Chinese minister, Wu Ting Fang, was graduated in 1904 at
the Atlantic City High School as the valedictorian of a class of
thirty-one, remarked:

``At every commencement there are honours enough to go around, and
those won by the Celestial contestants will not be begrudged them. Yet
it is not exactly flattering to smart American youth to realize that
representatives of an effete civilization after a few years' acquaintance with
western ways can meet our home talent on its own ground and carry off
the prizes of scholarship.''

A British consular official, who spent many years in China and
who speaks the language, declares that in his experience of the
Chinese their fidelity is extraordinary, their sense of responsibility
in positions of trust very keen, and that they have a
very high standard of gratitude and honour. ``I cannot
recall a case,'' he says, ``where any Chinese friend has left
me in the lurch or played me a dirty trick, and few of us
can say the same of our own colleagues and countrymen.''
The Hon. Chester Holcombe, who quotes this, adds--``The
writer, after years of experience and intimate acquaintance
with all classes of Chinese from every part of the Empire, is
convinced that the characterization of the race as thus given
by those who at least are not over-friendly does it only scant

[13] The Outlook, February 13, 1904.

Many quote against the Chinese the familiar lines--

``----for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar.''

But whoever reads the whole poem will see the force of the
London Spectator's opinion that it is a ``satire of the American
selfishness which is the main strength of the cry against the
cheap labour of the Chinese,'' and that ``it would not be easy
for a moderately intelligent man to avoid seeing that Mr. Bret
Harte wished to delineate the Chinese simply as beating the
Yankee at his own evil game, and to delineate the Yankee as
not at all disposed to take offense at the ``cheap labour'' of his
Oriental rival, until he discovered that he could not cheat the
cheap labourer half so completely as the cheap labourer could
cheat him.''

It is common for people to praise the Japanese and to sneer
at the Chinese. All honour to the Japanese for their splendid
achievements. With marvellous celerity they have adopted
many modern ideas and inventions. They are worthy of the
respect they receive. But those who have made a close study
of both peoples unhesitatingly assert that the Chinese have
more solid elements of permanence and power. The Japanese
have the quickness, the enthusiasm, the intelligence of the
French; but the Chinese unite to equal intelligence the plodding
persistence of the Germans, and the old fable of the tortoise
and the hare is as true of nations as it is of individuals.
Unquestionably, the Chinese are the most virile race in Asia
``Wherever a Chinese can get a foot of ground and a quart of
water he will make something grow.'' Colquhoun quotes
Richthofen as saying that ``among the various races of
mankind, the Chinese is the only one which in all climates, the
hottest and the coldest, is capable of great and lasting activity.''
And he states as his own opinion: ``She has all the elements
to build up a great living force. One thing alone is wanted--
the will, the directing power. That supplied, there are to be
found in abundance in China the capacity to carry out, the
brains to plan, the hands to work.''



SHANTUNG is not only one of the greatest, but it is in
many respects one of the most interesting of all the
provinces of China. Its length east and west is about
543 miles and in area it is nearly as large as the whole of New
England. The name, Shantung, signifies ``east of the mountains.''
Forests once existed, but tillable land has become so
valuable that trees are now comparatively few save in the
villages and temples and about the graves of the rich. But for the
most part, Shantung resembles the great prairie regions of the
western part of the United States, broken by occasional ranges
of hills and low mountains. The soil is generally fertile,
though in the southwestern part I found some stony regions
where the soil is thin and poor. South of Chinan-fu one finds
the loess, a light friable earth which yields so easily to wheel
and hoof and wind and water that the stream of travel through
successive generations has worn deep cuts in which the traveller
may journey for hours and sometimes for days so far below the
general level of the country that he can see nothing but the
sides of the cut and in turn cannot be seen by others. The
character of the soil and the power of the wind and rain have
combined not only to excavate these long passages, but to cast
up innumerable mounds and hills, often of such fantastic shapes
that one is reminded of the quaint and curious formations in
the Bad Lands of the Missouri, though the loess hillocks lack
the brilliant colouring of the American formations.

Throughout the province as a whole, almost every possible
square rod of ground is carefully cultivated by the industrious
people, so that in the summer time the whole country appears
to be continuous gardens and farms dotted with innumerable
villages. Wheat appears to be the chief crop and, as in the
Dakotas, the entire landscape seems to be one splendid field of
waving, yellowing grain. But early in June the wheat disappears
as if by magic, for the whole population apparently, men,
women and children, turn out and harvest it with amazing
quickness in spite of the fact that everything is done by hand.
Men and donkeys carry the grain to smooth, hard ground
spaces, where it is threshed by a heavy roller stone drawn by a
donkey or an ox or by men, and several times I saw it drawn
by women. Then it is winnowed by being pitched into the
air for the wind to drive out the feathery chaff. The methods
vividly illustrate the first Psalm and other Bible references--
gleaning, muzzling ``the ox when he treadeth out the corn,''
the threshing floor and ``the chaff which the wind driveth

One might suppose that after the wheat harvest, stubble
fields would be much in evidence. But they are not, for the
millet promptly appears. It is hardly noticeable when the
wheat is standing. But it grows rapidly, and as soon as the
wheat is out of the way, it covers great areas with its refreshing
green, looking in its earlier stages like young corn. It is of
two varieties. One is a little higher than wheat, with hanging
head and a small yellow grain. The other is the kao-liang,
which grows to a height of about twelve feet. When small, it
is thinned out to one stalk or sometimes two in a hill so that it
can develop freely. This stalk is to the common people almost
as serviceable as the bamboo to tropical dwellers. It is used
for fences, ceilings, walls and many other purposes. The grain
of the two varieties is the staple food, few but the richer
classes eating rice which is not raised in the north and is high
in price. A third species of millet, shu-shu, is used chiefly
for distilling a whiskey that is largely used but almost always
at home and at night so that little drunkenness is seen by the

Fuel is very scarce, trees being few and coal, though
abundant, not being mined to any extent. So the people cook
with stalks, straw, roots, etc., and in winter pile on additional
layers of wadded cotton garments. Chinese houses are not
heated as ours are, though the flues from the cooking fire, running
under the brick kang, give some heat, too much at times.

Silk is produced in large quantities and mulberry trees are
so common as to add greatly to the beauty of the country. As
the cocoons cannot be left on the trees for fear of thieves, the
leaves are picked off and taken into houses where the worms
are kept.

Poppy fields, too, are numerous. The flowers are gloriously
beautiful. I often saw men gathering the opium in the early
morning. After the blossoms fall off, the pod is slit and the
whitish juice, oozing out, is carefully scraped off. High hills
rising to low mountains add beauty to the western part of Shantung,
while the more numerous trees scattered over the fields as
well as in the villages make extensive regions look like vast

The people are among the finest types of the Chinese,
tall, strong and, in many instances, of marked intellectual
power. To the Chinese, Shantung is the most sacred of the
provinces, for here were born the two mighty sages, Confucius
and Mencius.

Politically, the Province is divided into ten prefectures, each
under a prefectural magistrate, called a Chih-fu, and with a
capital which has the termination ``fu.'' I-chou-fu, for example,
is a prefectural city. Each fu is subdivided into ten districts
under a district magistrate or Chih-hsien, the capital, or
county seat as we should call it, having the termination ``hsien''
or ``hien'' as for example Wei-hsien. There are 108 of these
hsien cities. Between the fu and the hsien cities are a few chou
cities as Chining-chou. They are practically small fus, Chining-
chou having four hsiens under it. The magistrate is called a Chou-
kwan and is responsible directly to a Tao-tai who is an official
between the prefectural magistrate or Chih-fu and the Governor.
There are three Tao-tais in the province. At the
provincial capital are the treasurer or Fan-tai, the Nieh-tai or
judge, the Hueh-tai or commissioner of education and the salt
commissioner, Yen-yuen. These are all high officials. Over
all is the Governor, virtually a monarch subject only to the
nominal supervision of the Imperial Government at Peking.
He is appointed and may at any time be removed by the
Emperor, but during his tenure of office he has almost unlimited

My tour of China included two interesting months in this
great province. As I approached Chefoo on the steamer from
Korea, I was impressed by the beauty of the scene. The water
was smooth and sparkling in the bright spring sunshine. The
harbour is exceptionally lovely. The shore lines are irregular,
terminating in a high promonotory on which are situated the
buildings of the various consulates. To the right, as the
traveller faces the city, is the business section with its wharves
and well-constructed commercial buildings, while on the left is
the wide curve of a fine beach on which front the foreign hotel
and the handsome buildings of the China Inland Mission.
Beyond the city, rises a noble hill on the slopes of which stand
the buildings of the Presbyterian Mission. From the water,
Chefoo is one of the most charming cities in all China.

Big, lusty Chinese in their wide, clumsy boats called sampans,
swarmed in the harbour. Sculling alongside, the boatman
caught the rail of the steamer with his boat-hook and with
the agility of a monkey scrambled up the long pole, dropped it
into the water and began to hustle for business. The babel of
voices bidding for passengers was like the tumult of Niagara
hack-drivers, but we were so fortunate as to be met by Dr. W.
F. Faries and the Rev. W. O. Elterich of the Presbyterian
Mission and under their skillful guidance, we were soon taken

A closer view of the Chinese city proved less attractive than
the captivating one from the harbour. The population long
ago over-ran the limits of the old city so that to-day most of
the people are outside the walls. Within those ancient battlements,
the streets are narrow and crooked, while the filth is
indescribable. The visitor who wishes to see something of the
work and to enjoy the hospitality of the noble company of
Presbyterian missionaries on Temple Hill must either pass through
that reeking mess or go around it. There is, after all, not
much choice in the routes, for the Chinese population outside
the walls has simply squatted there without much order, and
the corkscrew streets are not only thronged with people and
donkeys and mules, but malodorous with ditches through which
all the nastiness of the crowded habitations trickles. Why
pestilence does not carry off the whole population is a mystery
to the visitor from the West, especially as he sees the pools out
of which the people drink, their shores lined with washerwomen
and the water dark and thick with the dirt of decades. Byron's
words in ``Childe Harold'' are as true of Chefoo as of Lisbon:

``But whoso entereth within this town,
That, sheening far, a celestial seems to be,
Disconsolate will wander up and down
'Mid many things unsightly to strange e'e;
For hut and palace show like filthily.
The dingy denizens are reared in dirt,
No personage of high or mean degree
Doth care for cleanness of surtout, or shirt,
Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwashed, unhurt!''

The first open port of Shantung was Teng-chou-fu, a quaint
old city on the far northeastern point of the Shantung promontory.
It has been outstripped in importance by its later
rival, Chefoo, and is now ignored by the through steamers and
seldom visited by travellers. As the trip from Chefoo by land
requires two long hard days over a mountain range and as time
was precious, I decided to go by water. The regular coasting
steamer was not running on account of danger from pirates,
who had been unusually bold and murderous in attacking passing
vessels. But I succeeded in hiring a small launch. It was
a trip of fifty-five miles along the coast on the open sea, but the
weather was good and so we risked it. Several of the missionaries
took advantage of the occasion to visit friends in Tengchou-fu
so that a pleasant little party was formed.

We had intended to start at 7:30 A. M., but some of our luggage
and chair coolies, who had been engaged to take us from
Temple Hill to the launch at 6:30, did not come, and we had
to press into service some untrained ``boys.'' Then, our chair
coolies, who had been carefully instructed as to their destination
and who had solemnly asserted that they knew just where to go,
got separated from the others and calmly took us to the Union
Church. We appreciated their apparent conviction that we
needed to go to church, but we vainly tried to make them
understand that we wanted to go somewhere else. The delay
would have become exasperating if a small English boy who
knew Chinese had not helped us out. Then the two coolies
who were carrying our valises and the lunch-baskets went
another way and sat down en route ``to rest.'' They would
doubtless be sitting there yet if, after waiting till our patience
was exhausted, we had not sent men to find them. But that is

However, all arrived at last and at 8:20 A. M. we cast off.
The day was glorious and as the sea was not rough enough to
make any one ill, we had a delightful trip along the coast with
its bare, brown hills so much resembling the scenery of California.
We reached Teng-chou-fu at 3:15 and that the pirates
were not imaginary was evident for as we entered the harbour,
they made a dash and captured a junk less than a mile away.
An alarm cannon was fired and soldiers were running to the
beach as we landed.

While in Teng-chou-fu, we witnessed a pathetic ceremony.
There had been no rain for several weeks. The kao-liang was
withering and the farmers could not plant their beans on the
ground from which the winter wheat had been cut. The people
had become alarmed as the drought continued, and they
were parading the streets bearing banners, wearing chaplets of
withered leaves on their heads to remind the gods that the
vegetation was dying, beating drums to attract the attention of
the god, and ever and anon falling on their knees and praying
--``O Great Dragon! send us rain.'' It was pitiful. This
country is fertile but the population is so enormous that, in the
absence of any manufacturing or mining, the people even in the
most favoured seasons live from hand to mouth, and a drought
means the starvation of multitudes.



THE spring of 1901 was not the most propitious time
for a tour of the province of Shantung. It was
shortly after the suppression of the Boxer outbreak
and the country was still in an unsettled condition. The
veteran Dr. Hunter Corbett, who had resided in the province
for a generation said, ``We are living on a volcano and we do
not know at what moment another eruption will occur.''
Students returning from the examinations at the capitol told the
people that the Boxers were to rise again and kill all the foreigners
and Chinese Christians. The missionaries did not believe
the report, but they said that it might be believed by the
people and cause a renewal of agitation as such rumours the
year before had been an important factor in inciting the populace
to violence. But the interior of this great province was
one of the objective points of my tour and I could not miss it.
Besides, if the missionaries could go, I could. Wives, however,
were resolutely debarred. No woman had yet ventured
into the interior and the authorities refused to approve their
going. In case of trouble, a man can fight or run, but a
woman is peculiarly helpless. Nor could we forget that the
Chinese during the Boxer outbreak treated foreign women who
fell into their hands with horrible atrocity. So the wives, rather
against their will, remained in the ports.

Arrangements are apt to move slowly in this land of deliberation.
The genial and efficient United States Consul at Chefoo,
the Hon. John Fowler, joked me a little about my hurry to
start, laughingly remarking that this was Asia and not New
York, and that I must not expect things to be done on the
touch of a button as at home. But finding that a German
steamer was to leave the next day for Tsing-tau, the starting
point for the interior, the energetic missionaries helped me to
``hustle the East'' to get off on it. The Chinese tailor gasped
when I told him that I must have a khaki suit by six the following
evening, but when he learned that I was to sail and
therefore could not wait, he promised rather than lose the job.
The next day the steamer agent notified me that the sailing
hour had been changed to four o'clock. I sent word to the
tailor with faint hope of ever seeing that suit, and when a later
message gave three o'clock as the real time, I abandoned hope.
But the enterprising Celestial made his fingers fly, finished the
suit by 2:50 P. M., and took it to the house of my hostess.
Finding that I had already gone to the steamer, he hurried off
to the wharf, hired a sampan, sculled a mile and panting but
triumphant placed the suit in my hands just as the steamer was
getting under way. His charge for the suit, including all his
trouble and the cost of the sampan, was $7 Mexican ($3.50).

Saturday found me in Tsing-tau, and Monday, I turned my
face inland, accompanied by the Rev. J. H. Laughlin and Dr.
Charles H. Lyon, and, as far as Wei-hsien, by the Rev. Frank
Chalfant, all of the Presbyterian mission, besides Mr. William
Shipway of the English Baptist mission, who was to accompany
us as far as Ching-chou-fu. To-day, the traveller can journey
to Chinan-fu, the capital, in a comfortable railway
car, but I shall always be glad that my visit occurred in the old
days when the native methods of transportation were the sole
dependence, for at that time the new German railway was in
operation only forty-six miles to the old city of Kiao-chou.

The modes of conveyance in the interior of China are five--
the donkey, the sedan chair, the wheelbarrow, the cart and the
shendza (mule litter), and naturally the first problem of the
traveller is to decide which one he shall adopt.

The donkey is all right to one accustomed to horseback
riding. But there is no protection from the sun and rain and
foreign saddles are scarce. The traveller piles his bedding
on the animal's back and climbs on top, sitting either astride
or sideways. In either case, the feet dangle unsupported by
stirrups. It is hard to make long trips in this way, to say
nothing of the consideration that a man feels like an idiot in
such circumstances. ``The outside of a horse is indeed good
for the inside of a man,'' but a mattress on top of a donkey is
a different matter.

The chair is comfortable for short distances, but it is comparatively
expensive and, as no change of position is possible,
one soon becomes tired sitting in the fixed attitude. In pity to
your coolies, you walk up-hill and you are exposed to inclement
weather unless you hire a covered chair. This, however,
is not only hot and stuffy, but it makes people think you an
aristocrat, as only officials or the rich use such chairs in the
country, though in cities they are a common means of conveyance.
Besides, I had travelled in a chair in Korea and I
wished to try something else in China.

The Chinese wheelbarrow is a clumsy affair with a narrow
seat on each side of a central partition. When large and with
an awning, it is not so uncomfortable, but it is not well adapted
to a long journey as it is slow and toilsome. When the mud is
deep, progress is almost impossible. Moreover, the labour of
the barrow-men constantly excites the sympathy of the humane
traveller and the dismal screech of the wheel revolving upon
its unoiled axle is worse than the rasp of filing a saw. The
Chinese depend upon the shrieks of the wheel to tell them how
the axle is wearing, but the disconsolate foreigner finds that his
nerves wear out much faster than the wooden axle. In Tsing-
tau, that agonizing screech proved too much even for the stolid
Germans and they posted an ordinance to the effect that all
barrow axles must be greased. The Chinese demurred, but a
few arrests taught them obedience, so that now the streets of
the German metropolis no longer resound with the hysterical
wails and moans so dear to the heart of the Celestial.

The Chinese cart is a curious affair. There are no roads in
the interior of China, except the ruts that have been made by
the passing of many feet and wheels for generations. In dry
weather, they are thick with dust and in the wet season they
are fathomless with mud. Almost everywhere they are distractingly
crooked, and in many places they are plentifully bestrewn
with boulders of varying sizes. Instead of spending
money in making roads, the Chinese have applied their ingenuity
to making an indestructible cart. They build it of heavy
timbers, with massive wheels, thick spokes and ponderous hubs,
and as no springs could survive the jolting of such a vehicle,
the body of the cart is placed directly upon the huge axle.
Then a couple of big mules are hitched up tandem and driven
at breakneck speed. A runaway in an American farmer's
wagon over a corduroy road but feebly suggests the miseries of
travel in a Chinese cart. It may be good for a dyspeptic, but
it is about the most uncomfortable conveyance that the ingenuity
of man has yet devised. The unhappy passenger is
hurled against the wooden top and sides and is so jolted and
bumped that, as the small boy said in his composition, ``his
heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, stomach, bones and brains are all
mixed up.'' I tried the cart for a while and gently but firmly
intimated that if nothing better was available, I would walk. I
am satisfied that nothing short of a modern battleship under
full steam could make the slightest impression on the typical
Chinese cart. In my humble opinion, a Chinese cart is like
any other misfortune in life. When necessary, it should be
taken uncomplainingly. But the person who takes it unnecessarily
has not reached the years of discretion and should be
assigned a guardian.

I therefore turned to the shendza. All things considered, it
is the best conveyance for a long interior journey in China.
It consists of a couple long poles with a rope basket work in the
middle and a cover of matting. It is borne by two mules, and
has the advantage of protecting the traveller from the sun and
from light rains. An opening in the back gives him the benefit
of any breeze while it is possible to get occasional relief by
changing position, as he can either sit upright or lounge.
Moreover, he can keep his bedding and a little food with him.
He need not walk up hills in mercy to weary coolies and he
can make the longer daily journeys which the superior endurance
of mules permits. In ordinary conditions on level ground,
my mules averaged about four miles an hour. The motion is a
kind of sieve-and-pepper-box shaking that is not so bad,
provided the mules behave themselves, which is not often.
My rear mule had a meek and quiet spirit. He was a discouraged
animal upon which the sorrows of life had told
heavily and which had reached that age when he appeared to
have no ambition in life except to stop and think or to lie down
and rest. The lead mule, however, was a cantankerous beast
that wanted to fight everything within reach and went into
hysterics every time any other animal passed him. As this occurred
a score of times a day, the uncertainties of the situation
were interesting, especially when the rear mule paused or
laid down without having previously notified the lead mule.
At such times, the sudden stoppage of the power behind and
the plunging of the power in front threatened the dislocation
of the entire apparatus, and as there is no way for the traveller
to get out except over the heels of a mule, life in a shendza is
not always uneventful. But I soon got used to the motion and
to the mules, and even learned to read and to doze in comparative
comfort while the long-eared animals plodded and
jerked on in their own way.

The most trying thing to the humane traveller is the soreness
of the mules' backs. I insisted on having mules whose
backs were sound, but was told by both missionaries and
Chinese that they could not be had, especially in summer, as
the swaying and jerking of the shendza and the sweat and
dust under the heavy pack-saddle always make sores. It was
all too true. I examined scores of mules and every one had
raw and bleeding abrasions and, in some cases, suppurating
ulcers. For a Chinese, our head muleteer was careful of his
animals and washed them occasionally, but no practicable care
apparently can prevent a shendza from making a sore back.
The only solace I had was the evident indifference of the
mules themselves. They had never known anything better,
and seemed to take misery as a matter of course.

Our party, with the goods we had to carry, for my missionary
friends were returning to their stations with the expectation
of remaining, included three shendzas, two carts and a
pack-mule for our provisions. But the ``mule'' turned out to
be a donkey and unable to carry all we had planned for a larger
animal. While wondering how we were to get our supplies
carried, we learned that a construction train was about to start
for the end of the track, which was said to be Kaomi, fifty-
five li[14] beyond Kiao-chou. We got permission to ride on the
flat car. In the hope that we might be able to secure a mule or
another donkey in Kaomi, we got aboard, leaving our shendzas
and carts to follow. After a lovely ride of an hour through
wheat-fields interspersed with villages, our train stopped twelve
li from Kaomi, an unfinished culvert making further progress
impossible. As our caravan had gone by a different route and
as no coolies could be hired where we were, the question was
how to get our goods transported. Fortunately, a German
Roman Catholic priest, who was also on the construction
train and who had wheelbarrows for his own goods, cordially
told us to pile our luggage on top of his. We gratefully accepted
this kind offer, and giving his coolies some extra cash
for their labour, they good-naturedly accepted the additional
burden, while we footed the twelve li to Kaomi.

[14] A li is about a third of a mile.

But the progress of the barrows was slow and it was half-
past eight when we reached Kaomi. In the darkness we could
not find the inn which the magistrate had set aside for foreigners
and the Chinese whom we met gave conflicting replies.
But at that moment, two resident Roman Catholic priests,
Austrians, appeared and one of them recognized Mr. Laughlin
as the associate of Dr. Van Schoick, a Presbyterian medical
missionary who had sympathetically treated a fellow priest during
a long and dangerous illness several years before. He
promptly invited us to go with him, declaring that Dr. Van
Schoick had saved the life of his dearest friend. He was
so cordially insistent that we accepted his invitation. Our
shendzas, carts and pack-mule were we knew not where, and
we were hungry after our long day. Warned by my experience
in Korea that the traveller should never trust to the
punctuality of natives and pack-animals, I had insisted on
taking our bedding and a little food on the flat car. It was
well that I did, for we did not see our shendzas that night as
they arrived after the city gates had been shut so that they
could not get in. But we had a little cocoa, tinned corn beef,
condensed milk, butter and marmalade. Same German soldiers
sent three loaves of coarse bread. Our priestly host added
some Chinese bread, and so had a good supper and afterwards
a sound sleep.

At half-past four the next morning, Mr. Laughlin remarked
in a forty-horse power tone of voice that it was time to get up.
By the time the reverberations had died away, we were so wide
awake that further sleep was out of the question. Our cook
was nowhere in sight, so we prepared our own breakfast from
the remains of last night's meal.

Bidding a grateful farewell to our hospitable priests, we rode
across an ancient lake bottom, low, flat, wheat-covered and hot
enough to broil meat. At half-past ten o'clock, we reached
Fau-chia-chiu, the boundary of the hinterland, where, near a
temple just outside the wall, we found Governor Yuan Shih
Kai's military escort awaiting us. It was after sundown when
we reached Liu-chia-chuang, and we felt half inclined to spend
the night there with some genial German military engineers,
but our party had become separated during the day and as
the others had taken a road that did not pass through Liu-
chia-chuang, we pushed on to Hsi-an-tai, which we reached by
a little after ten o'clock. By that time, it was so dark that it
was impossible to go further and we found lodgment in a good-
sized building which smelled to heaven. The odour was like
that of a decomposing body. However, it was too late and we
were too weary either to hunt up smells or to seek another lodging
place. So after a hasty supper out of our tinned food, we
put up our cots and went to bed, Mr. Chalfant making a few
pleasant remarks about the bedbugs that always swarm in such
a building, the centipedes that sometimes crawl into the ears or
nostrils of sleepers and the scorpions that occasionally fall from
the millet-stalk ceiling on to the bed or scuttle across the floor
to bite the person who unwarily walks in his bare feet. Under
the influence of such a soporific, I soon fell asleep. The next
morning we rose early, and while the cook was preparing our
coffee and eggs, we followed the trail of that awful odour to a
corner of the building, where, under some millet stalks, we
found a rude coffin which we had not noticed in the dim candlelight
of the night before. A Chinese of whom we inquired
said that it was empty. We could not in courtesy open a
coffin before dozens of interested Chinese, but it was very
plain to our olfactories that such an odour required a prompt

As usual, a great but silent crowd watched me as I wrote
while the mules were being fed and at Hsien-chung, where
we stopped at noon to repair a shendza, Mr. Chalfant translated
a proclamation on a wall stating that an indemnity of
110,000 taels had to be paid for damage to the railway during
the Boxer outbreak and that 14,773 taels had been assessed on
Wei County. The people read it with scowling faces, but they
said nothing to us, though they looked as if they wanted to.

At two o'clock, we entered the ruined Presbyterian compound,
a mile southeast of the city of Wei-hsien. It was
thrilling to hear on the scene of the riot Mr. Chalfant's
account of the attack by about a thousand furious Boxers;
to see the place just outside the gate where single-handed and
with no weapon but a small revolver, he had heroically held
the mob at bay for several hours until the swarming Boxers,
awed by his splendid courage, divided, and while several
hundred held his attention, the rest climbed over the wall at
another place and fired the mission buildings. That the three
missionaries escaped with their lives is a wonder. But Mr.
Chalfant quickly ran to the house where Miss Hawes and Miss
Boughton were awaiting him, hurried them down-stairs,
and while the Boxers were smashing the furniture on the other
side of a closed door, snatched up a ladder, assisted them over
the compound wall at a point that was providentially unguarded
and hid them in a field of grain until darkness
enabled them to make their way exhausted but unhurt to a camp
of German soldiers and engineers nine miles distant and to
escape with them to Tsing-tau. It was a remarkable experience.
If that door had not happened to be closed, and if
a ladder had not been carelessly left by a servant beside the
house, and if the attack itself had not occurred just before
dark, undoubtedly all three would have been killed. On each
of those three ifs, lives depended.

Mr. Fitch cordially welcomed us. Mr. Chalfant killed a
centipede and various insects crawling on the walls near my
cot and a little after nine I was asleep. The next day we
took a walk through the city, impressed by its imposing wall
and the throngs of people who followed us and watched every
movement. Outside the wall, we saw a ``baby house,'' a
small stone building in which the dead children of the poor
are thrown to be eaten by dogs! I wanted to examine it, but
was warned not to do so, as the Chinese imagine that
foreigners make their medicine out of children's eyes and
brains, and our crowds of watching Chinese might quickly become
an infuriated mob.

Immediately on our arrival, we had sent our cards to the
district magistrate and in the afternoon he sent us an elaborate
feast. As we were about to retire that evening, he called in a
gorgeous chair with a retinue of twenty attendants. He stayed
half an hour and was very cordial, and we had a pleasant interview.
Wei-hsien is famous for its embroideries, and great
quantities are made, the women workers receiving about fifty
small cash a day (less than two cents). It was not necessary
to go to the stores as in America. The shopkeepers brought a
great number of pieces to our inn, covering the kang and every
available table, chair and box with exquisite bits of handiwork.
Lured by the sight I became reckless and bought four
handsome pieces for 19,800 small cash ($6.06).

Resuming our journey on a warm, sunny day, we entered
Chiang-loa at noon. It was market day, and the greatest
crowd yet fairly blocked the streets. The soldiers had difficulty
in clearing a way for us. But while much curiosity
was expressed, there was no sign of hostility. Then we
journeyed on through the interminable fields of ripening wheat.
Soon, mountains, which we had dimly seen for several hours,
grew more distinct and as we approached Ching-chou-fu towards
evening, the scene was one of great beauty--the yellowing
grain gently undulating in the soft breeze, the mountains
not really more than 3,000 feet in height, but from our stand
on the plain looking lofty, massive and delightfully refreshing
to the eye after our hot and dusty journeying. The city has a
population of about 25,000 and its numerous trees look so invitingly
green that the traveller is eager to enter.

But in this case also, distance lent enchantment, for within,
while there was not the filth of a Korean village, yet the narrow
streets were far from clean. Not a blade of grass relieved the
bare, dusty ground trampled by many feet, while the low, mud-

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