30 A NATURALIST IN WESTERN CHINA 



constitute a region that is very different from others in 

 central China. 



In the afternoon we visited Ta-lung-tang (Large Dragon- 

 pool), a deep, silent pond about a stone's throw across, nearly 

 circular in outline with reedy margins, walled in by steep 

 grassy mountain slopes. In short, in situation and appearance 

 the very kind of pool that in any country legends would be 

 wrapped around, and so in this case many curious stories con- 

 cerning elfs and demons are centred round this silent pool. 

 The day was gloriously fine and sunny, but the wind, which 

 swept through the valley in considerable force, was very cold. 

 Whether it be due to local conditions or to the altitude I could 

 not determine, but the tree flora is comparatively poor and of 

 little interest, and very unlike the belts that occur between 

 4000 and 6500 feet. The altitude, however, favours coarse 

 herbs, and these are rampant. Many interesting shrubs also 

 occur, but with the exception of Silver Fir, Birch and Poplar 

 trees are rare. 



With a prospect of 60 li of unknown road before us we 

 planned a daylight start, but this scheme did not mature, 

 as the men had to prepare and cook their morning meal 

 before starting. The entire absence of food supplies makes 

 travelling hereabouts extraordinarily difficult. Yesterday 

 four of the men journeyed back 45 li in order to buy 

 food-stuffs, and returned only after dark ; several of them 

 were up most of the night grinding maize and preparing 

 cakes for the march. 



On leaving Hsao-lung-tang we ascended the lesser branch 

 of a stream through a narrow valley flanked by bare grassy 

 mountains having here and there small patches of Silver Fir 

 and Birch forest. The road is one steady climb, never steep 

 but often difficult owing to the Bamboo scrub. The decaying 

 stumps and stark tree trunks speak eloquently of the magni- 

 ficent forests which must have formerly existed here until 

 destroyed by axe and fire. To the botanist and lover of 

 Nature this vandalism is painful, but presumably it was 

 necessary for economic reasons. The unwitting cause of it 

 all has been the Irish potato. But Nature took her revenge 

 when, twenty-three years ago, the Potato disease devastated 



