THE UPPER BRANCHES OF THE LIEN-CHOW RIVER IN CANTON PROVINCE.

BY REV. B. C. HENRY, M.A.

IN Na previous paper we followed the sinuous course of the beautiful Lien-chow stream to the foot of Pagoda Hill, within sight of the city itself. From the base of this pagoda, at an elevation of several hundred feet above the river, we gain a noble view of the Lien-chow plain, as it stretches west and north. Fifty villages or more, with their evergreen groves of banyans, camphor, and other trees, are seen in the space swept by the eye, while in numerous valleys, nestling beyond the mountains, are many more that do not appear. Great hills in lofty terraces rise behind us to the south, and on the opposite shore black peaks, with jagged summits, stand out as if ready to answer questions from their southern neighbors. One lofty, isolated peak lifts itself in simple grandeur apart from the rest. Its hither side is a wall of perpendicular rock, but from the upland plain behind a path leads to the summit. As seen from the pagoda, the upper portion of its rocky mass presents a most striking profile of an enormous human head, showing a majestic, but benign, countenance, gazing with watchful eye over the city and plain beneath. This striking likeness has won for it the name of the "Old Man of Lien-chow" from the foreigners who have seen it. Its Chinese name is Sha-mo-ling "mandarin hat hill," and it is evidently considered the presiding genius of the place, the differentiating medium, by which the geomantic influences of wind and water are distributed over the city and plain below. The city has been built with reference to it, the street that runs from the east to the west gate being laid out in a direct line with it, so that in walking toward the east its solemn head looms up continually before the eye. It is an object of superstitious awe and is used in imprecations by the natives. To wish that a man may go to the top of Sha-mo-ling is a curse of dreaded import and is especially feared by the Hunan people who come and go in great numbers. It is the reputed abode of a dragon which can on occasion pour forth floods of water and deluge the country; as happened four years ago, when a most disastrous flood overwhelmed the plain, water rising to the roofs of the houses on the higher ground in the city. The people attribute this flood to the combined influence of thunder and the dragon, and declare that from the bowels of the hill the water burst forth with a most portentous rumble and swept in an irresistable flood over the plain. The water, however, did not all come from this hill, nor yet from that still more remarkable place the great waterfall, thirty miles north, as the people in that vicinity assert; but

a rainfall of almost unexampled abundance, a water-spout in fact, burst simultaneously along thirty miles of the mountainous region that forms the eastern border of the Lien-chow plain; and the narrow pass, two miles below the city, was too small to allow this sudden and enormous volume of water to escape, so that, for a time, the beautiful plain was changed into a lake, dotted with numberless evergreen islands.

No Chinese city that I have seen can compare with Lien-chow in beauty and attractiveness of surroundings. It is situated in the midst of a fertile plain, with endless variety of mountain scenery on every side. There are the massive barriers to the east, through which the river winds in its narrow rock-bound channel. To the south are groups of peaks of various shapes and altitudes; and on the west, trending a little toward the north, the great dividing range lifts for many miles its massive form, ridges of almost equal height, into the clouds, while in the foreground, and set in contrast with its solid regularity, are many striking peaks, like domes and towers, covered with a fresher garment of vegetation and presenting a more picturesque aspect. The hills about Lien-chow are covered with snow in the winter, which falls to the depth of several inches on the higher levels.

The city proper of Lien-chow is a very small affair, but the suburbs extending to the south and east are the scene of a busy trade. In the eastern suburbs is a pagoda, dating, it is said, from the seventh century, in a half ruinous condition, with a large red-walled monastery and wide-spread banyans at its foot. It is a conspicuous and picturesque object, its crumbling tower bravely withstanding the ravages of time. Just beyond the limits of the eastern suburbs begins a stretch of low rocky hills, furnishing fine building sites and from which streams of the purest water flow perennially. The western line of the city stretches along the river bank for nearly a mile, and the narrow stream is quite filled with boats. The population of the city is perhaps 50,000, composed of natives of the district, people from the southern parts of the province (who number about one-third of the whole), several hundred Hunanese, and a few Hakkas. The natives have an entirely distinct dialect of their own, which is quite unlike the Cantonese, and is in fact utterly unintelligible to strangers. Cantonese, however, is spoken by hearly all the people, and is the language of trade and general interAll the chief branches of business in the place are in the hands of the Cantonese, that is the people from the districts near the provincial city, and they oppress the natives in many ways. The salt trade, a government monopoly, is the chief business done, this being the distributing point for a large section of country still further inland. The boats from Canton discharge their cargoes into large warehouses

course.

from which it is sent by shallow boats up the two small rivers or by coolies directly overland into Hunan.

The natives of Lien-chow seem more gentle and docile than those of the lower districts. They have less energy and business capacity, perhaps, but certainly impress one as more civil and appreciative than the self-conceited myriads of the south. I have seen much of them in the city, in the market towns, and in scores of their villages, and certainly have met with more friendliness and consideration from them than it has been my forturne to receive in any other part of the province. A special interest attaches to the city just now, as the American Presbyterians are seeking to found a Mission there, with missionaries resident. Negociations for the purchase of land and the renting of houses fall short of completion through the obstructiveness of the sub-prefect, a grandson of the great Tsêng Kwoh-fan, who, while professing great friendliness and willingness to assist us to the utmost extent of his power, arrests the men who attempt to sell or rent to us, beats the agent employed, and deters, through fear of punishment, those who would be glad to meet our wants. He is a typical Chinese mandarin, so completely and conspicuously two-faced. When we see him, he is all smiles and profuseness; nothing can exceed his delight and willingness to serve us. The slightest hint that unnecessary obstructions are thrown in our way calls forth a storm of protestation :-"The people are so ignorant;" "Their eyes are so small;" "They cannot see what is for their benefit and therefore do not appreciate you: I understand your lofty and disinterested motives, I am the grandson of Tsêng Kwoh-fan, the nephew of the Marquis T'sêng; you can trust me," and, laying his hands on our shoulders or striking a melodramatic attitude with his hand over his heart, says "there are no secrets between us; we speak heart to heart." After such an interview we depart with every assurance of help, but feeling sure that only fresh obstacles will be thrown in our way; and so it proves. Many assure us of their readiness to sell or rent, but the Ta-lo-ye (the Prefect), he will not permit them and will punish them if they attempt it. An incident that occurred somewhat more than a year ago, will illustrate one side of the character of this man. I was visiting Lien-chow on work in connection with the chapel, and, on the day after my arrival, had the misfortune to be severely gored by a water-buffalo, which attacked my little daughter as we were walking through the fields. As soon as the Prefect heard of it he came in person to see me, although it was nine o'clock in the evening. He expressed great sympathy and made profuse offers of assistance, proposing to send a physician, medicine, etc. I felt most grateful for his attention, and considered him a model

of courtesy and kindness, until a few weeks later, when I saw the despatch he sent the Viceroy in regard to it, which, after mentioning the date of my arrival and the place where the boat anchored, ran as follows:-"On the next day the teacher B. C. Henry went on the shore for a walk, several soldiers attending him as guards. An ox happened to be feeding on the grass by the roadside. The teacher began beating the ox to drive him off, whereupon the soldiers wishing to protect him and fearing lest the ox should gore him, besought him to desist; but the teacher only laughed at them, and relying upon his valor, caught the ox by the horns, grasping them firmly and refusing to let go, until the ox gored him in the left thigh. The soldiers rushed immediately to the rescue, drove off the ox, and carried the teacher back to his boat. Upon their report, I immediately sent a deputy to inquire into the facts, but the teacher would not allow him to enter the boat. Afterwards I went in person to inquire and found matters very much as the soldiers had reported, &c., &c." Scarcely a word of the above is true. There was not a soldier or a gaurd near me, the ox attacked my little girl, pushing her against the bank, and I caught his horns to save her; and, after the ox became frightened and ran away, I walked back to the boat so that the villagers who saw the affair might not know the extent of my injuries. The officer knew nothing about it, until more than twenty-four hours after it happened. This versatile prefect has been promoted to a higher post, so that the people of Lien-chow will soon be deprived of the light of his countenance.

In front of the city of Lien-chow two streams, flowing from almost directly opposite directions unite, but the smaller one is not navigable. Two miles above the city the main stream divides again, the larger branch leading to Sing-tsze 星子,and the smaller to Tung-pi 東陂, both places on the borders of Hunan. Ascending the courses of these three streams we come into a country of great and varied interest, known as yet to but few travelers, and to these but imperfectly. The most interesting portion of all, the country of the aboriginies, is yet entirely unexplored. We take these streams in their natural order, beginning with the first one on the left as we ascend, and also in the order of their size, the first being the smallest. Its direction is from the south, flowing in a portion of its course through a country of Alpine beauty and grandeur. It is a shallow, turbulent stream, filled with rocks and rapids subject to sudden freshets, as after storms of rain the water pours down the steep mountains along its course, and in the season of drought dwindling to a mere brook. For the first fifteen miles, its course lies through a comparatively level country, with broad fields of rice and other grain, filling the space between the river and

the hills.

Many sweeps and curves bring it abreast of picturesque hills, on one of which, in a conspicuous place, are a fort and a monastery, with many red buildings grouped about them. As the stream is difficult to travel, the usual course is by foot-path across the fields and over some low-lying hills to Sam-kong E. Midway to this town is the guard station of Sha-tz-kong, near which is seen a grove of wonderfully fine trees, which invites to rest and the study of nature. The oil bearing Camellia shows itself in increasing abundance, groves of this shrub covering many of the hillsides. After passing several large villages, among which one, Lung-han, is especially conspicuous by its high, substantial wall, a stout reminder of troublous times, we come to the river opposite Sam-kong. Here a fine substantial bridge a few years ago spanned the stream, but was swept away by one of those sudden floods so characteristic of this region. Sam-kong is a town of considerable importance and has appeared conspicuously in the history of this district, being on the borders of the Iu country, and being the site of an important military station. The town is in two parts, the mart where the market is held and in which a large trade centres, and the walled city, where the garrison is stationed and the officers reside. The town is filled with busy throngs on market days, among which on ordinary occasions may be seen several hundreds of the Iu people, both men and women. They come from their homes in the high mountains, bringing freshly picked tea-leaves of a large, coarse kind, poultry, maize and herbs for sale, and taking back dried beef, tobacco, and cloth. They are lower in stature than the Chinese, do not shave the head, and wear the hair coiled up behind, both men and women having long hair. Their complexion is much like the Chinese, but some are almost copper-colored. They have scanty beards and not much dignity of presence. The women are very short and many of them stout. Their dress is very similar to that of the men, being a jacket with close fitting sleeves, folded across the chest, leaving the neck open, and trousers that reach only to the knee; from the knee to the ankle a strip of ornamented cloth, about half an inch wide, is wound in such a way that the figures correspond. They wear no shoes, and the men have no hats, but some of the women wear a strange looking head-dress, a kind of high paper cap encircling the coil of hair. The men seem to dress their hair more elaborately than the women, some that I saw having it carefully combed back, coiled in symmetrical folds behind and decorated with ornaments made of the pith of the wood-oil tree, and cock's feathers. Both men and women have immense silver earrings and necklets. They have great physical strength and carry immense burdens. These