FROM TALI TO TSEKOU 



corners of Normandy. Passing Chang-kouan, which forms the 

 northern gate of the valley, we stopped at Teng-chouan-cheou, in 

 a pagoda where we were pestered by crowds of inquisitive idlers. 



On the 1 8th (June) a sparsely clad ascent brought us to 

 a col at an altitude of 9,035 feet. We were in the midst of Alpine 

 vegetation; asters, orchids, edelweiss, etc., abounded. The air 

 was fresh and invigorating. At our feet was spread a wide and 

 well-tilled vale, the rice-fields like a draught-board below us, 

 and the villages grey specks edged with green. Throughout its 

 length a river traced a sinuous course with a dark riband of 

 trees. The coup d'cei/ was striking, and issuing as we did from 

 brown and rugged hills we could hardly repress an exclamation 

 of delight. Rarely had we seen fertility so fully turned to account. 

 Save where small dikes defined the boundaries of the fields, no 

 single rood of ground was lost. Upon the distant hills a few 

 white scaurs showed like beacons over the valley. Down on the 

 level a group of peasants might be discerned round a minute 

 oriflamme, lightening their toil with the sound of flageolet and 

 eone. When we descended to the river we found its waters 

 rapid and clear beneath a fringe of willows, and the irrigation 

 was cleverly controlled by intersecting runnels. 



We crossed the valley by a paved road at right angles, and 

 came to the Minchia townlet of Fong-Yu (two thousand or three 

 thousand inhabitants). I noticed the peculiar head-dress of some of 

 the women, consisting of a close-fittino- little black hood with silver 

 ornaments in front. Their hair was looped to cover the ear, — one 

 might have supposed they had got the latest mode from Paris, 

 — and this style seemed reserved for the young girls. To see 

 them at work in the fields in their skull-caps, little jackets, and 

 trousers revealed by the tucked-up skirt, they might have been 



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