The bridge, however, has stood the test of time, and bids fair to last
through eternity. Other travelers have passed over it since the days of
Marco Polo, but I should like to say a word about it. Twelve yards or so
wide, and no less than 150 yards long, it is built entirely of grey
stone; with its massive piers, its excellent masonry, its good
(although crude) carving, its old-time sculpturing of dreadful-looking
animals at either end, its decorative triumphal arches, its masses of
memorial tablets (which I could not read), its seven arches of beautiful
simplicity and symmetry and perfect proportion, it would have been a
credit to any civilized country in the world. I noticed that, in
addition to cementing, the stones and pillars forming the sides of the
roadway were also dovetailed. Among the works of public interest with
which successive emperors have covered China, the bridges are not the
least remarkable; and in them one is able to realize the perseverance of
the Chinese in the enormous difficulties of construction they have had
to overcome.
Passing over the stream--the Hsiang-shui Ho, I believe--I stepped out
across the plain with one foot soaked, a pony having pulled me into the
water as he drank.
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