THE EDEN OF THE FLOWERY REPUBLIC 



355 



It is at once the most daring, the most 

 colossal, the most graceful, architectural 

 concept which the mind of ancient man 

 was given to fulfill. The sheer audacity 

 of the thing, especially in the light of 

 China's unaudacious character today, is 

 staggering. 



THE DISMISSED RICKSHAW MAN 1 AND HIS 

 SMILE 



By an ironic coincidence it was on the 

 way to the Great Wall that I met the 

 unaudacious rickshaw man. The first 

 stage of our journey — from my host's 

 rooms to the railroad station — was a dis- 

 tance of four miles. One of our rick- 

 shaw coolies was young and lusty and a 

 good runner; the other was old — not 

 very old in years, but old for a rickshaw 

 man in a city where distances are long 

 and legs and lungs must be in prime con- 

 dition to suit impatient Americans. 



The old man started off briskly enough, 

 but we had hardly rounded the corner 

 into the main street when it became clear 

 that he could not stand the necessary 

 pace for forty minutes. 



"We must catch that train," said my 

 host, "and this old chap won't get us 

 there." So I hailed the first sturdy coolie 

 I saw and stepped into his rickshaw. 



"Give the old man four coppers," said 

 my host= 



I did so without further thought at the 

 moment, saw the old fellow regard his 

 younger rival with that resigned, pitiful 

 smile with which the Chinese are wont 

 to accept the inevitable, and we were off. 



His smile haunted me. I began to feel 

 that I had broken a contract with him ; 

 he had been engaged for a ride to the 

 railroad at a fare of thirty coppers ; he 

 had been dismissed with four. 



"Don't let that trouble you," said my 

 host. "It is understood among rickshaw 

 men that if they cannot pull at the speed 

 you want, you are free to dismiss them. 

 Four coppers are twice as much as he 

 earned." 



My host had had considerable experi- 

 ence with Peking rickshaw men. He was 

 doubtless right. But all day long that 

 half good-natured, half regretful, alto- 

 gether pathetic smile of the old man was 

 somehow mixed up with the glory of 

 wind and sunshine on the brown hills and 

 the wild leaping curves of the ramparts. 



It is this unexpected smile at misfor- 

 tune which makes life bearable for mil- 

 lions of Chinese. I wonder whether it is 

 this same smile which makes progress in 

 China so difficult? That is a problem I 

 have not solved ; but I have, ever since, 

 paid riotous rickshaw fares in memory 

 of the old fellow who took me four cop- 

 pers' worth toward the Great Wall. 



THE EDEN OF THE FLOWERY REPUBLIC 



By Dr. Joseph Beech 



A THOUSAND miles westward 

 from the coast of China the 

 Yangtze River, which in Chinese 

 means "The Child of the Ocean," in its 

 passage through the outer rim of central 

 Asia's mountain system has carved, in 

 surpassing beauty and majestic grandeur, 

 the five gorges of the upper Yangtze, 

 rightly called the gateways to West China. 

 They stretch from Ichang, until recently 

 the head of steam navigation, to Kwei- 

 chow, a distance of 125 miles. 



The traveler is prompted to call "Hats 

 off!" as he sails between these massive 

 walls, crowned with cathedral domes that 

 companion with the clouds, and his ad- 



miration is mingled with awe of the river, 

 with its succession of rapids and treach- 

 erous whirlpools that take heavy toll of 

 life and merchandise from those who 

 enter, thus creating the tradition that only 

 the hardy and the favored of the gods 

 pass through. 



Such is the entrance to the country 

 which the first Western traveler, Marco 

 Polo, who visited that country in the 

 thirteenth century, described as a culti- 

 vated garden with great cities, and a 

 recent visitor calls "Sze-chuan the Beau- 

 tiful, the richest and most populous and 

 altogether the most picturesque part of 

 China." 



