She is sometimes right.
My journey continuing across more undulating country brought me at
length to Hong-shih-ai (Red Stone Cliff), a tiny hamlet hidden away
completely in a deep recess in the mountain-side, settled in a narrow
gorge, the first house of which cannot be seen until within a few yards
of entry. Inn accommodation, as was usual, was by no means good. It is
characteristic of these small places that the greater the traffic the
worse, invariably, is the accommodation offered. Travelers are
continually staying here, but not one Chinese in the population is
enterprising enough to open a decent inn. They have no money to start it,
I suppose.
But it is true of the Chinese, to a greater degree than of any other
nation, that their Golden Age is in the past. Sages of antiquity spoke
with deep reverence of the more ancient ancients of the ages, and
revered all that they said and did. And the rural Chinese to-day says
that what did for the sages of olden times must do for him to-day. The
conservative instinct leads the Chinese to attach undue importance to
precedent, and therefore the people at Hong-shih-ai, knowing that the
village has been in the same pitiable condition for generations, live by
conservatism, and make no effort whatever to improve matters.
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