FROM HANKOW TO THE WU-SHAN GORGE, UPPER YANGTSZE.
DURING the journey which I now propose to describe I was so fortunate as to have two American gentlemen for my companions. At Hankow we hired two native boats to convey us as far as I-Chang. In the smaller of these two craft our Chinese interpreter, the cook, and "the boys," or native attendants, were accommodated; the larger one was for ourselves. This arrangement proved in some respects a good one : we were not over-crowded, and we escaped the noxious odours of Chinese cookery; but, on the other hand, grievous delays arose, for the boats were of unequal sailing powers, and their crews were inclined to exert themselves as little as possible.
Of three of the illustrations on Plate XVII. No. 33 represents our boat's crew at breakfast; No. 34, the interior of our cabin; No. 35, our interpreter "Chang."
On the 20th January, 1 87 1 , with British and American flags Hying, our expedition quitted Hankow; but we soon lowered our needless colours, and settled down to the tedious process of poleing the boats past the native craft, which lined the bank in thousands.
When night set in we cast anchor at the foot of Ta-tuen-shan, ten miles above Hankow. Our boat was divided by bulkheads into three compartments : the after one for the accommodation of the skipper, Wang, and his wife; the next formed our sleeping bunk; and the forward one, furnished with a stove, was converted into a sort of sitting-room. We passed an intensely cold night, for the wind blew through every crevice into the cabin, and we were forced next morning to make a liberal application of paper and paste to prevent a repetition of the inconvenience. Our sleep was further disturbed by a violent altercation between Wang and his spouse; the latter, seemingly a hot-tempered woman, and a true Tartar, having overruled her more youthful husband's wish to go and purchase provisions ashore. These people can hardly be said to go to bed, — they wear their beds around them. Their clothes are padded with cotton to such an extent, that, during the day, they look like animated bolsters. They never change their clothes, oh no! not until the winter is over; and then they part with the liveliest company in the world. The boatmen are a miserably poor lot; nine of them sleep in a
