UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA THE MYSTIC FLOWERY LAND. I. IN SHANGHAI. T the close of a bright May afternoon, in the year 1887, the trim little barquentine-which had borne me safely across the summer seas from the sandy shores of Africa-stood in once more towards the welcome land-the mystic "Flowery Land," or "Celestial Empire," of which I had heard and half-incredulously read so much about in the time-honoured travels of Marco Polo, and where the wonders of an ancient and ingenious civilization tempt the eager traveller to explore. Onward we sailed, with square yards and wind on the starboard quarter. The nearer we approached the low-lying land the yellower became the waters, until we swiftly, and almost silently, glided into the Huang-pu river; and the tired eye, long accustomed to the dreary ocean deserts, was gladdened and relieved by masses of bright green foliage waving above the long rushes that line the muddy banks, past which we quickly sped, occasionally obtaining a glimpse of the surrounding country, which teemed with well-cultivated garden patches and paddy-fields. These were studded at intervals with thick clumps of graceful bamboos, from amongst whose bright foliage the thatched or tiled roof of many a snug little farmhouse peeped out with pleasing homeliness and simplicity. Running close under the formidable embanked fortifications, we soon descried a straggling town that comprised several whitewashed buildings, above which the tricoloured French flag was flying. Here I saw the first Celestial it had ever been my fortune to behold in the archaic land and comely dress of his forefathers, and with his glossy length of carefully plaited queue, with silken-tasseled end, almost trailing on the ground. I did not admire his cunning and impassive countenance, with its upward-curving brows, small watchful eyes, and sensual mouth which seemed to mechanically shape itself into a half-perceptible sneer as he regarded our smart little craft, and no doubt unfavourably compared it with the primitive box-bowed junks of his own proud land, several of which we soon passed-with their unwieldy-looking lateen sails, their shroudless, raking masts, high, gaudily-embellished sterns, and low eyed-bows. No junk would be complete, or even tenable, without the large ogling eyes on either side of her head; and if you ask a Chinaman the reason of this, he will answer with his self-convincing adage, "no can see, no can savee!" So implicitly does he believe in this ocular demonstration that he will unflinchingly try to sail or yuhloa* his vessel across the bows of a steamer going at full speed, just to show their talismanic power off to the heartily despised fan-quai, or "foreign devil," as they universally denominate all foreigners. Hence the number and frequency of collisions between European and native craft, generally with disastrous results to the latter. But the busy mind does not dwell for any lengthened period on one subject, however interesting it may be, when one is entering upon the thought-inspiring sights and subjects of a new country. So we must quickly pass along up the broadening river towards the pretty Italian-like villas that began to show themselves on the starboard bow as we approached the port of Shanghai, which is situated about twelve miles inland on the west bank of the fastflowing river, and lies in lat. 31° 14' N. and long. 121° 28' E., being built on and surrounded by a vast alluvial plain, intersected with numerous lakes and streams, and relieved at long intervals. by a few isolated hills. Several brightly-painted shoe-shaped boats, or sampans, now dashed alongside, and in a moment the ship's side was one mass of struggling humanity. Dozens of half-nude coolies, bum-boat *To scull with a long oar or sweep over the stern. |