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the double range of mountains opposite, the long sloping tops of 
the further range showing out between or occasionally overtopping 
the serrated edges of the nearer range; the massive white walls 
of the temples turning blue in the sunset colours ; a waterfall here 
and there lighted into unnatural distinctness like a white horse’s 
tail wavering in the breeze; a crowd of blue-gowned men and 
women going home with baskets dangling from their shoulder 
yokes ; there an official with large blue sedan chair and obsequious 
attendants besetting him, with red facings and red edgings to their 
short coats, or careering across the river a smart-looking craft 
with deep azure sail, much beflagged, one slender cannon projecting 
at the bow. There is always something to watch in a great river 
view—the varying height of the water, the swiftness of the current, 
not to speak of the constant traffic. There floats down river what 
looks like a haycock. It takes a sudden slant as it is caught in 
the dangerous rapid opposite, bows, and threatens to capsize, then 
as suddenly seems to pull up and right itself, proceeding as before 
on its down-river course, an overladen cargo of rush candle wicks. 
By the Ho-i-ho, yeo-ho, yeo-ho, there must be a hundred men 
towing that heavily-laden cargo-boat up stream, but the trackers 
are hidden from view by the houses beneath us. We only hear 
that chant of theirs, that becomes at last like the music of the 
river, so inseparable are the two. I hear it now, as I write, that 
music of the Yangtse Gorges that begins at Ichang of the placid 
lake-like expanses and little sharp-pointed hills, then follows all 
through the west of China on to the base of the great Himalayan 
range, the gigantic fortress guarding the penetralia of Asia. 
Day after day that flight of the herons would be an excuse 
for half an hour’s idleness —il giuoco degli occJii, as the Italians 
call it. And after it we would go back to our books or writing, 
thankful for the interlude to the innocent white birds, whom we 
knew so well at nearer view, with their slight, elegant legs and 
graceful forms, the last finishing touch to so many a peaceful 
landscape. 
Once we did a thing unheard of—accepted an invitation to 
stay a few nights in a grand Chinese country house, and travelled 
a day’s journey in sedan chairs to arrive there. We had barely 
started on our return journey when my husband exclaimed, “By 
George, there they are !” And there, in the rice-meadow we were 
