of the Chu-Kiang. 8459 



spotted as to resemble very closely the weather-stained granite rocks 

 among which it takes up its abode. 



All around these quarries frown barren red-tipped hills, rough with 

 scraggy fir trees, and crested here and there with wind-bent pines. On a 

 brown fissured rounded hill a tall pagoda is conspicuous, and, buried 

 in a sacred grove, at the base is a picturesque jos-house, while in the 

 far distance are indistinct pale gray lofty mountains. 



As I return to the ship 1 observe a water buffalo plodding steadily 

 across a padi-field, the rude wooden plough turning up the soil behind 

 her. Now these unwieldy ruminants appear to think with the Turk 

 that " of all devils the very worst of devils is a Frank in a round hat." 

 No sooner does she scent the " fanqui " than she stops abruptly, snorts, 

 trembles, and is off. Nose in air and horns flat aback she splashes 

 through the watery glebe, the plough at her tail. The vexed China- 

 man gazes helplessly after his unruly charge ; but soon, to the great 

 relief of the disconsolate husbandman, steps up a little boy, who 

 whispers soft nonsense in the vagrant's ear, and leads her back, a 

 willing captive, by the rope in the cartilage of her nose. 



Danes Island, like all the other islands in the river, rises from the 

 bed as a primary granite mass, with green rounded hills covered with 

 a scanty vegetation, and pitted with the scooped-out graves of many 

 generations of Chinese. A layer, more or less deep, of red and white 

 sandstone rests upon the granite, and, between the hills, are valleys 

 with a rich alluvial bottom, where pumpkins, melons, rice, peas, beans, 

 ground nuts and sweet potatoes form vast vegetable gardens. The 

 terraced sides of the more barren hills are planted with the oolam or 

 olive, the li-chee and the peach. The villagers are harmless, but now 

 and then get into trouble for supposed insults to the British flag, but 

 what then ? — " Every day is not a Feast of Lanterns." 



Under the shade of the dark-leaved fir trees, where repose the dead 

 of the mild intelligent Parsees, I love to sit upon a gravestone and 

 feast on the cool pink flesh of water melons. Anon comes panting up 

 the hill an urchin — brown, pigtailed, bare-legged, breathless. He 

 bears a home-made bamboo box, a crumpled leaf serving for a cork. 

 This he eagerly withdraws, and reveals the head of a large yellow 

 centipede, whose unpleasant body seems very much inclined to follow. 

 This, offered with a smile of conscious pride, is a present for the 

 " Esung." These village urchins are great allies of mine : they show 

 as much ardour in the chase as any naturalist, nor could a legion of 

 Ariels have served their master Prospero better than these dusky imps 

 do me. Their narrow gleaming eyes see me discard the " disjecta 



