own south such bungalows are built on a tiny
island four or five miles out at sea, and there it is never very hot,
while in the evenings it is delightful to bathe, stroll along the
sands, or sit with the pilot on watch up by the old ruined fort, where
you can see rays from the lighthouses flashing far, far across the
waves, watch the lights of steamers as they pass beneath and listen to
the cadenced throbbing of their screws. For those residing in Central
China a sanatorium has lately sprung up near Kiukiang, at Kuling, a
valley some 4,000 feet above sea-level in the Lushan mountains, which
overlook the Yangtse on one side and the Poyang lake on the other.
This valley was unknown to Europeans a few years ago, but has now the
appearance of a country town, there being probably a hundred and fifty
well-appointed bungalows strongly built of stone quarried on the spot,
a church, shops, laundry and a network of roads and paths.

When feeling run down after a long spell of intense heat in the
plains, a trip to this resort is most refreshing, for there it is
always cool enough to wear light tweeds during the day and to sleep
under a blanket at night. The mountain rambles are lovely, be it over
the lofty peaks, through the trees and scrub in the valleys or along
the bed of a stream, where frequent pools of running, crystal water
afford good bathing or a little fishing for those addicted to the
gentle art.

Never shall I forget one glorious day when, accompanying two friends,
we crossed to a far side of the range and looked down on the Poyang
lake. The view was magnificent, and on our return journey the setting
sun flashed every imaginable hue on the mists rolling close above our
heads, on the landscape changing as we moved, on mountain crags and on
the lake, unfolding at each turn dissolving scenes of surpassing
loveliness.

On arrival at Kiukiang by steamer you hire a chair with four bearers
for the ten or twelve miles' journey up the mountains, with additional
coolies to carry your luggage. For half the distance you follow
ordinary country roads, but during the last few miles the path, though
well constructed, is very steep in some places, while in others it
overhangs yawning valleys, where you instinctively grip the sides of
your chair and fervently hope the bearers will not trip.

In the north, Chefoo, Wei-hai-wei and Pei-tai-ho attract a goodly
number of visitors to the seaside during summer months, while others
desiri