where they might most naturally be expected; and the greatest difficulty, as I imagine, would be experienced during the summer months, when the banks are submerged, and no objects suitable for bearings are to be seen. At that period there are no trees nor landmarks of any kind to be met with in many of the long and difficult reaches, so that a steamer would run a great risk of grounding on the stiff clay banks, unless guided by a system of buoys. All the shoals consist of soft alluvial deposits; and, as I believe, when the Upper Yangtsze shall have been thrown open to steam traffic, it will be found necessary to make frequent surveys of the river, as the shoals and channels continually shift. Such a survey, even if made at low water in one season, would only lead to disaster were it relied upon the following year. We have had a day of snow, and there being no wind the men were compelled to track the boat up stream with a bamboo line affixed to the mast. After this, for some days' time, the routine of sailing and tracking was only equalled in monotony by the sameness of the scenery around. There was an endless flow of still and silent water, and level plains on either bank, without a single object of interest to break the even line. At length, on the 2 7 th, we landed at a pretty rustic hamlet, beautiful in its quiet repose, and where everything seemed to have gone to rest for the winter. This village stretched along the crest of an embankment, and was backed by skeleton trees, whose snow-clad branches stood out coldly against a leaden sky. The sloping banks, too, were covered with snow, while the red light of reed fires gleamed from the open doorways, and sparkled in the oyster-shell windows.[1] There was no one astir, not a foot-print had marred the icy mantle in which the soil was wrapped; only on a level patch the leaves of a winter crop shot up in rows, and formed a pale green pattern on a snow-white ground. Our interpreter Chang was, I regret to say, of little service; for no member of our party understood his dialect thoroughly, and I found my own Hainan men, who spoke the Kwang-tung dialect and Malay fluently, of much greater use. Chang, however, had influence with the boatmen, who looked up to him on account of his literary attainment; he was useful as a master of ceremonies in the presence of native officials, and he also kept a careful journal. He esteemed himself our protector, and it was truly gratifying to notice how he courted the society of the officials to whom we had credentials, and before whom our interpreter exhibited us, at the same time introducing to their notice our foreign wine and our cigars -commodities with which he had been laudably sedulous to make himself acquainted beforehand. There he is, presented to the reader in No. 35, just after he had been droning, in an obscure corner of the cabin, over a whole classical commentary. The figure to the left is one of the boatmen, while a Ningpo boy is looking from the cabin door; the characters are faithfully rendered, and are engaged in the several occupations with which half their time was engrossed. The boat was under weigh in mid-stream when I executed this picture. We next halted at Shang-chai-wan, a small town, where we were able to purchase some excellent coal. It was about mid-day, but the boatmen, who had gone ashore with their captain, showed no inclination to return, although a steady breeze was blowing up the river at the time. At four o'clock, therefore, two of us ascended to search for the missing Wang, and quickly found him enjoying the nectar of a wine-shop close at hand. We did not
venture into the town, as a great mob had collected around us. Foreigners were a rare sight to them, and my
- ↑ Oyster shells, reduced in thickness until they become semi-transparent, are still used in many parts of China as substitute for glass. The shells are framed in small squares in the windows of the houses.
