a mental picture of a rural scene anywhere in {127} China
or Japan there are three or four things that must always be kept in
mind. One is that there are no fences between fields; I haven't seen a
wooden or wire farm-fence since I left America. A high row or ridge
separates one field from another, and nothing else. In the next place,
there are no isolated farm-houses. The people live in villages, from
ten to fifty farmhouses grouped together, and the laborers go out from
their homes to the fields each morning and return at evening. The same
system, it will be remembered, prevails in Europe; and as population
becomes denser and farms grow smaller in America, we shall doubtless
attempt to group our farm homes also. Even now, much more--vastly
more--might be done in this respect if our farmers only had the plan
in mind in building new homes. Where three or four farms come near
together, why should not the dwellings be grouped near a common
centre? It would mean much for convenience and for a better social
life. Another notable difference from our own country is the absence
of wooden buildings or of two-story buildings of any kind. In this
part of China the farmhouse is made of mud bricks, or mud and reeds,
or else of a mixture of mud and stone, and is usually surrounded by a
high wall of the same material.

Again, there are no chimneys. While my readers are basking in the
joyous warmth of an open fire these wintry nights they may reflect
that the Chinaman on this side of the earth enjoys no such comfort.
Enough fire to cook the scanty meals is all that he can afford. To
protect themselves against cold, as I have already pointed out, the
poor put on many thicknesses of cotton-padded cloth. The rich wear
furs and woolens. When a coolie has donned the maximum quantity of
cotton padding he is about as nearly bomb-proof as an armor-plated
cruiser. Certainly no ordinary beating would disturb him.

At this time of the year (the late fall) farmers are busy plowing and
harrowing. On my last Sunday in Peking I went out to the Temple of
Agriculture, where each spring the Emperor or Prince Regent comes and
plows sixteen rows, the purpose {128} being to bear testimony to the
high honorableness of agriculture and its fundamental importance to
the empire. This happens, as I have said, in early spring, but it is
in late fall that Chinese do most plowing. They are also busy now
flailing grain on ancient threshing-floors of hard-baked eart