262 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



of desolation. Thousands of splendid trees were lying 

 in a chaos of charred and blackened trunks. It was the 

 wantonness of it all that depressed and horrified me. 



The reason was perfectly apparent. On every bit of 

 open ground Manchu farmers were at work with plow 

 and hoe. The land was being cleared for cultivation, 

 regardless of all else. North China has very little tim- 

 ber — so little, in fact, that one longs passionately to get 

 away from the bare hills. Yet in this forest-paradise 

 the trees were being sacrificed relentlessly simply to ob- 

 tain a few more acres on which the farmer could grow 

 his crops. If it had to be done — and Heaven knows it 

 need not have been — the trees might have been utilized 

 for timber. Many have been cut, of course, but thou- 

 sands upon thousands have been burned simply to clear 

 the hillside. 



At Shing Lung-shan we met our hunters and con- 

 tinued up the valley for three hours. With every mile 

 there were fewer open spaces ; we had come to a region 

 of vast mountains, gloomy valleys, and heavy forests. 

 The scenery was superb ! It thrilled me as did the moun- 

 tains of Yiin-nan and the gorges of the Yangtze. Yet 

 aU this grandeur is less than one hundred miles from 

 Peking! 



On a little ridge between two foaming streams we 

 made our camp in the forest. From the door of the 

 tent we could look over the tops of the trees into the 

 blue distance of the valley ; behind us was a wall of for- 

 ests broken only by the winding corridor of the moun- 

 tain torrent. 



