LIFE ON THE RIVER 15 



again in sight Flocks of geese and ducks, number- 

 ing hundreds, paddle about the flooded low- 

 land where the water buffaloes stretch their per- 

 petually stiff necks and are ridden to and fro by 

 the naked children. All along the bank at fre- 

 quent intervals stand thatched shelters raised on 

 piles, and before them, overhanging the river, 

 wide nets, dipping to the centre from curved 

 bamboo cross-frames. In the shelters sit patient 

 fishermen, who ever and anon swing up their 

 nets, empty their catch, and resume their monoton- 

 ous watching. 



At times one passes huge timber rafts. Some of 

 them draw twenty-four feet of water, and carry as 

 many as two hundred people in huts built on the 

 timber itself. They come from the inland pro- 

 vinces, and are worked down the river, gradually 

 diminishing in size on their downward voyage until 

 at length no raft is left. 



In the autumn, another striking sight is the 

 large flocks of domestic ducks, numbering thou- 

 sands, guided by a few men armed with long 

 bamboos in small boats, being made to swim their 

 way to market at Shanghai. 



In the winter wild duck, particularly at the 

 Poyang Lake, literally darken the sun. Of every 

 variety, they, with pheasants and other kinds of 

 small game, have decreased of late years ; since, 

 in fact, the establishment of a cold-storage estab- 

 lishment at Hankow. Before reaching Kiukiang, 

 said to be the hottest place on earth, a solitary 

 pinnacle of limestone forms a prominent feature 

 in the centre of the river. Conical and partially 

 wooded, it serves as a resting place for the temple 

 3 



