Here the people were still
essentially Lolo, and the big-footed women who boiled water under a shed
had difficulty in getting to understand what my men were talking about.
The second descent is begun after a pleasant walk along level ground
resembling a well-laid-out estate, and a treacherously rough mile
brought us down to an iron chain bridge swung over the Shui-pi Ho, at
the far end of which, hidden behind bamboo matting, are a few idols in
an old hut; they act in the dual capacity of gods of the river and the
mountain. Tea and some palatable baked persimmon--very like figs when
baked--were brought me by an awful-looking biped who was still in
mourning, his unshaven skull sadly betokening the fact. As I sipped my
tea and cracked jokes with some Szech'wan men who declared they had met
me in Chung-king (I must resemble in appearance a European resident in
that city; it was the fourth time I had been accused of living there), I
admired the grand scenery farther along. Especially did I notice one
peak, towering perpendicularly away up past woods of closely-planted
pine and fir trees, the crystal summit glistening with sunlit snow; as
soon as I started again on my journey, I was pulling up towards it.
Pages:
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407