om its teeming population, as well as the
lateness of the season, prompted us to make our sojourn as short as
possible. Only a day sufficed to reach Tong-quan, which is the central
stronghold of the Hoang-ho basin, and one of the best defended points in
China. Here, between precipitous cliffs, this giant stream rushes madly
by, as if in protest against its sudden deflection. Our ferry this time
was not the back of a Chinese coolie nor a jolting ox-cart, but a spacious
flat-boat made to accommodate one or two vehicles at a time. This was
rowed at the stern, like the gondolas of Venice. The mob of hundreds that
had been dogging our foot-steps and making life miserable, during our
brief stop for food, watched our embarkation. We reached the opposite
shore, a mile below the starting-point, and began to ascend from the
river-basin to the highlands by an excavated fissure in the famous "yellow
earth." This gives its name, not only to the river it discolors, but, from
the extensive region comprised, even to the emperor himself, who takes the
title of "Yellow Lord," as equivalent to "Master of the World." The
thickness of this the richest soil in China, which according to Baron
Richthofen is nothing more than so much dust accumulated during the course
of ages by the winds from the northern deserts, is in some places at least
two thousand feet. Much ingenuity has been displayed in overcoming the
difficulties offered to free communication by the perpendicular walls of
these yellow lands. Some of the most frequented roads have been excavated
to depths of from forty to one hundred feet. Being seldom more than eight
or ten feet wide, the wheeled traffic is conducted by means of sidings,
like the "stations" in the Suez Canal. Being undrained or unswept by the
winds, these walled-up tracks are either dust-beds or quagmires, according
to the season; for us, the autumn rains had converted them into the
latter. Although on one of the imperial highways which once excited the
admiration of Marco Polo, we were now treated to some of the worst
stretches we have ever seen. The mountain ascents, especially those
stair-like approaches to the "Heavenly Gates" before reaching the Pe-chili
plains, were steep, gradeless inclines, strewn with huge upturned blocks
of stone, over which the heavy carts were fairly lifted by the sheer force
of additional horse-flesh. The bridges, too, whose Roman-like masonry
attests the high degree of Chinese civilization