56 A MOUNTAIN VILLAGE AND TAI-PEI-SHAN 



in the mountainous districts of China. Cretin 

 idiots are by no means uncommon. 



We put up at a small temple. The caretaker — 

 it was impossible to dignify him with the name of 

 priest — a deaf but voluble old rascal, lived in a 

 small room in one corner. Opposite, a miserable 

 old woman had taken up her quarters, and over 

 the gateway an opium-smoker dragged out his 

 days beside a grinning god. Otherwise we had the 

 place to ourselves. Dr. Smith's old friends brought 

 presents of vegetables, cucumbers, potatoes, and 

 eggs, usually refusing payment. A crowd of small 

 boys followed our every movement with bated 

 breath, until we turned their superfluous energies 

 to account by sending them out to collect rasp- 

 berries, of which there were great quantities grow- 

 ing wild. They got twenty cash (rather less than 

 a half-penny) per pound, and kept us well supplied 

 during our stay. Even more than cash they prized 

 empty cartridge cases. Large numbers of pigeons 

 used to roost in the old stand for theatrical per- 

 formances which is part of every self-respecting 

 temple, and here we used to shoot them when our 

 menu wanted a change. There were also doves 

 here — pretty little birds, with a ring of blue- 

 spotted white feathers round their necks, hares, 

 and pheasants. In the winter these latter furnish 

 good sport. 



One morning I was awakened by the banging of 

 drums and the clanging of gongs. It appeared 

 that a man in the village had had about 60 ozs. 

 of opium stolen (at 650 cash per oz. this would 

 be valued at 25 taels — rather over £3), and the 

 astrologers were hard at work endeavouring to find 



