front of the inn are two beautiful liquid-amber trees, backed by a fine old pine, which gives an air of grace and refinement to the place. But the inn itself! perhaps the less said about it the better. It is a onestoreyed structure about twelve by eighteen feet in dimension, with no windows, and a single narrow door. There are two beds with covers you shrink from touching, and shudder as you see your own bedding laid upon them, and hurriedly command it to be removed before anything adheres. Two rude fire places, and before them two great heaps of ashes, kept in the house lest dampness should destroy their fertilizing qualities, a heap of conglomerate rubbish, and an unspeakable loft complete the general view of the interior. In the absence of the regular innkeeper, a gurff old party (a stone mason, as we afterwards learned), left in charge, growls out a negative to all questions about beds, provisions and general necessaries. Happily provided with all that is needful, our supper is soon prepared, and with appetite sharpened by a walk of twenty miles, we eat with stoical indifference to the surroundings. Our attendants also manage to find the rice jar and some doubtful-looking wisps of dried salt greens, which they appropriate. As soon as darkness falls we spread our beds, some boards from the loft being made to do duty in the space before the door. We have scarcely fallen into the first doze, however, when a loud knocking at the door calls forth emphatic growls from our quasi host, and we are entertained by the following dialogue :-(Caller) "Open the door." (Host) "I can't." (C.) "You must." (H.) "There is a bed against it." (C.) "Take it away." (H.) "The men are asleep." (C.) “So early! wake them up." (H.) "What do you want ?" (C.) "I want to see your strange guest." (H.) "How do you know we have a strange. guest ?" (C.) "Some men who were passing told it in the village." The bed is moved back at last and the door opened. A man comes

in with noisy greeting, which is met by emphatic, but suppressed disapprobation. I lie still under the cover, listening to some original remarks upon my shoes and various articles of wearing apparel. A light is thurst over my face in spite of the host's remonstrances and sharp rebuke for such gross breaches of propriety in prying into people's privacy. The intruder having satisfied his curiosity sums up the result of his observations in the remark, "Humph! it is only a foreign devil," and takes his departure. Sleep comes as sweet and refreshing in the dingiest, dirtiest inn as in the most palatial hotel, as we proved on this occasion, and soon after the first rays of light found their way through the glass tiles in the roof, we arose with a feeling of renewed strength and vigor. I had breakfast served on the lid of a traveling basket under the graceful branches of the liquid-amber trees, and was

the object of great curiosity to the dozen or more rustics from the neighbouring villages, who came with the earliest dawn to see the stranger. When breakfast was ready they were quietly reminded that good manners required them to withdraw while the guest was eating. They withdrew as requested, but from around the corners and the doorway kept a close watch upon all the proceedings. After breakfast I invited them near and had a long and friendly conversation, winning their good-will to such an extent that they pressed me to remain several days with them and explore their mountain possessions. The leading man, a cross-eyed teacher, was especially agreeable, and displayed considerable intelligence on subjects of general interest. I found them to be a colony of Hakkas, the name of their settlement being the San-hoi-tung () the "Newly-opened Ravine," and under their skillful and economical management the valleys, long bare and fruitless, are becoming attractive as well as productive. Through all the region traversed on this journey I found that the Puntis or native Cantonese occupy most of the plains and level arable land, while the Hakkas are taking possession of the upper and less accessible valleys. Wherever they settle they plant fruit and other trees and the place begins at once to assume a thrifty, prosperous look. This occupation of the valleys is only the first step toward expansion over the adjoining plains. They are a frugal, thrifty, persevering race, and as farmers and laborers excel the Puntis, whom they are sure to supplant. I declined the cordial invitation of these mountain people, urging lack of time. The usual examination of my hair, clothes, shoes, etc., was submitted to, one of them naïvely remarking that my shoes were not made of iron as the visitor at the inn the night before had given them to understand, and another asking me to give some proof to them that I could see seven feet down into the earth, saying it was the general belief among them that foreigners could see as far into the solid earth as Chinamen could into clear water. Unable to gratify them on this point I took leave of them. The hotel bill, which included supper and breakfast for my four Chinese attendants, lodging and the best bed for myself, with lights and other necessaries, reached the surprising sum of twenty-two cents, and a smile of pleasure actually spread over the stone mason's face, as the money was placed in his hands.

Two miles further travel up a somewhat steeper ascent brought us to the top of the ridge about one thousand feet above the plain. The walk through the upper hills in the early morning was most enjoyable. The mist still lay in the valleys like banks of fleecy snow, and the hills rose up wondrously fresh and green by contrast. As we ascended the higher slopes the common Chinese pine, (Pinus Sinensis),

which is the chief source of the fire wood, and furnishes the tough, elastic timber used in the hulks of boats, and which was almost the only tree seen on the lower hills, is intermingled with and in some places quite supplanted by the finer pine, (Cunninghamia Sinensis), which produces the beautiful, smooth-grained timber so extensively used by builders and carpenters. Its stiff, regular shape and clearly defined outlines, give a peculiar charm to the hillside covered with it. From the height of the dividing ridge the view is most extensive and varied, stretching to the south as far as the eye can reach over broad plains with their teeming villages. To the east and west the flanks of the ridges, through a depression in which we have ascended, hem us in, but to the north the space extends over successive plains, for many miles to the high mountain region beyond. We are on the line of division between the Tsung-fa () and Tsing-ün () districts. We see the little streams trickling down on opposite sides of the hills, their waters destined to follow widely separate routes, and reach outlets far remote from each other. A plain granite stone marks the line of separation between the two districts.

On the slope of one of the upper hills a grave was pointed out, whose propitious location it was said, had brought the highest literary honor to the family of its occupant, a senior wrangler having been produced after twenty years. The geomantic influences of the place may be very efficacious, but are certainly rather hard to manage, if it takes twenty years to concentrate them sufficiently to produce one senior wrangler in a large clan that numbers its literary men by scores.

The descent on the Tsing-ün side is very rapid, and from many points on the way we get excellent views of the unfrequented valley, in the midst of which stands my friend's native hamlet and which he is careful to point out from time to time. Deep ravines open from the path with masses of tangled vegetation covering the little streams that trickle down them. A fine waterfall hard by the path descends forty or fifty feet over the rocks adding much to the attractiveness of the We stop to rest where the path crosses the mountain stream under a fine spreading tree. This tree is reverenced as a god and worship paid to it by the passers by. A tablet with inscriptions descriptive of its virtues was placed on some rocks at its foot, until sacrilegious hands, in hope of finding the silver or other precious substance that was supposed to give it such virtue, dug away the earth, removed the stones and destroyed the altar.

scene.

After a few miles' walk we are in my friend's village, and crowds of friends and acquaintances press around him with eager questions, of which I am the chief object. He answers them all to their evident

satisfaction. He places his house at my disposal for several days, but his generosity certainly exceeds his means of entertainment, and his heart is larger than his house. The small clay cottage contains but two rooms, one of which is occupied by his mother, a gentle, refinedlooking old lady, and the other is filled, except for a small space about the door with farming implements and household utensils, so that there is scarcely room to turn around. A glance is sufficient to show that his offer of hospitality, however sincere, has been made without due consideration of the space at his disposal, and I immediately decide to proceed to the market town five miles below where a boat for temporary residence can easily be procured. A small stream flows past the viilage and a little open boat is soon in readiness to take us down. We are in a district not previously visited by foreigners and I become in consequence an object of unbounded curiosity. The news of my arrival has spread from hamlet to hamlet with astonishing rapidity and as the little boat sweeps down the creek, on every rising knoll and at every crossing stands a crowd of eager gazers intent upon getting some glimpse of the stranger, many calling to the boat men to go more slowly that they may see the better.

Just before reaching the market town of T'ong-t'ong () which is to be our head-quarters during our stay in the district, we come to the first and in many respects the chief object of interest in the whole neighbourhood-the great "Boiling Spring." It is situated about fifty yards from the creek, and is of an irregular shape, being about thirty feet long by ten feet wide and four or five feet deep in the centre, a little to the west of the large spring is a smaller one circular in shape and about four feet in diameter. The hot streams well up from the bottom, which is covered with a fine whitish sand, and break forth in bubbles on the surface. The water is boiling hot, its high temperature being tested by some eggs which we placed in it and which in several minutes were sufficiently boiled for our use. A thick cloud of vapor rises from the water continually, being seen from a considerable distance, and this vapor is heavily charged with sulphuretted hydrogen, and we are almost suffocated by this offensive gas, when the wind blows it in our faces. I was unable to determine anything as to its chemical or medicinal qualities. The sulphureous gas seems not to adhere in the water, but to be dissipated as soon as it reaches the air. The spring is a great boon to the large village adjacent, which takes its name Tong-t'ong (), meaning "Souppond," or perhaps simply, "Hot-water-pond" from this wonderful spring. The great volume of heated water which issues from it continually flows into a ditch, whence it is conveyed into the adjoining

fields with no observable effect other than that produced by ordinary water. When the fields are sufficiently irrigated the water is turned off toward the creek. Quantities of the water are carried daily to the houses for domestic use, and at times scores of village dames and maidens may be seen with baskets of clothes which they wash by the side of the spring. The abundance of swines' bristles, dog hair, and feathers scattered along the margin show that it is extensively used in the less poetical work of butchering pigs, dogs, chickens, etc. Many stories are told of accidents that have happened here; of cattle forced into the boiling water and being immediately overcome, and other equally suggestive tales. On one occasion some young men from a theatrical troupe, having imbibed too frecly of "sam-shu," proposed, as an act of bravado, to wade across the hot spring. Two of them made the attempt, but were no sooner in the water than they lost all power of movement and before help could reach them were scalded to death. The natives believe that underneath the spring is some precious substance which they call a "fire pearl" (), and that if this were removed the water would cease to boil. They looked with some suspicion on my examination of the spring, fearing that I might discover and remove the precious pearl and rob them of their wonderful spring.

Soon after leaving the Hot Spring we reach Tong-t'ong market, situated at the junction of three small streams, the Kat-ho (M), the Wong-fa (), and the Wan-tung (), which here unite to form the Pa-kong (H) River; and while waiting for the larger boat, which is to be our temporary abiding place, are surrounded by a dense crowd of spectators. Although our boat lies in the middle of the stream, the water is shallow enough to allow the ever-increasing throngs to surround us without any serious inconvenience to themselves. We quietly endure their persistent inspection for several hours, not detecting any special signs of hostility, but are informed afterwards that the young men of T'ong-t'ong, who are a rough set, several hundreds in number, were seriously planning an attack. Some of them urged that with their numbers it would be a very easy matter to make away with this single foreigner and loot his baggage, and no one be any the wiser for it. No one in Canton need know how or where he disappeared. Others were not sure of being able to dispose of the "barbarian" so easily, saying that he no doubt had arms concealed that would prove most destructive if used, and spoke of a mysterious weapon that, shot upwards, would send missiles to great distances if need be, which would fall in unexpected places and exploding destroy men and houses. Their plotting was overheard by some men from my friend's villago