Malaria, as all sufferers know, has a tendency to
cause trouble as soon as one gets into cold weather, and in my case, as
will be seen in subsequent parts of this book, it held faithfully to its
best traditions. Fever on the Yangtze in a _wu-pan_ would require a
chapter to itself, not to mention the kindly eccentricities of a
companion whose knowledge of malaria was most elementary and whose
knowledge of nursing absolutely _nil_. But I refrain. As also do I of
further talk about the Yangtze gorges and the rapids.
From Kweifu to Wan Hsien is a tedious journey. The country opens out,
and is more or less monotonously flat. The majority of the dangers and
difficulties, however, are over, and one is able to settle down in
comparative peace. Fortunately for the author, nothing untoward
happened, but travelers are warned not to be too sanguine. Wrecks have
happened within a few miles of the destination, generally to be
accounted for by the unhappy knack the Chinese boatman has of taking all
precautions where the dangerous rapids exist, and leaving all to chance
elsewhere. Some two years later, as I was coming down the river from
Chung-king in December, I counted no less than nine wrecks, one boat
having on board a cargo for the China Inland Mission authorities of no
less than 480 boxes.
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