As he finished speaking, there came a loud crashing noise and a
shout--my pony had landed out just once again, and banged in one side of
a chair belonging to these traveling officials. They met me with noisy
and derisive greetings, which were returned with a straight and
penetrating look.
No less than fifty degrees was the thermometrical difference in
Ta-shui-tsing and Kiang-ti. Here it was stifling. Cattle stood in
stagnant water, ducks were envied, my room with the sun on it became
intolerable, and I sought refuge by the river; my butter was too liquid
to spread; coolies were tired as they rested outside the tea-houses,
having not a cash to spend; my pony stood wincing, giving sharp shivers
to his skin, and moving his tail to clear off the flies and his hind
legs to clear off men. As for myself, I could have done with an iced
soda or a claret cup.
Very early in the morning, despite malaria shivers, I made my way over
the beautiful suspension bridge which here graces the Niu Lan,[X] a
tributary of the Yangtze, up to the high hills beyond.
This bridge at Kiang-ti is one hundred and fifty feet by twelve,
protected at one end by a couple of monkeys carved in stone, whilst the
opposite end is guarded by what are supposed to be, I believe, a couple
of lions--and not a bad representation of them either, seeing that the
workmen had no original near at hand to go by.
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