rs ago by someone for his tomb. Then he did
something wrong, probably stole from the wrong person, and was not
allowed to be buried there. Round the temple places the trees remain and
give a refreshing oasis, and there are some beautiful springs. All the
time we kept saying, "Trees ought to be planted." "Yes, but they take so
long to grow," or, "Yes, but they will not grow, it is so dry," etc.
Sometimes they would say, "Yes, we must plant some trees," or more
likely, "Yes, I think we may plant some trees sometime, but we have an
Arbor Day and the people cut down the trees or else they did." We would
show that the trees would grow because they were there round the
temples, and besides grass was growing and trees would grow where grass
would grow in such dry weather, and they would say the same things over.
It made the little forestry station in Nanking seem like a monumental
advance, while that fearful sun was beating up the dust under the stones
as the men gave us the Swedish massage in the motion of the chairs.
Fifty men and more stood around as we got in and out of the car and five
men apiece stood and waited for us as we walked round the temple and ate
our lunch and spent the time sipping tea, and yet they cannot plant
trees, and that is China.

The whole country is covered every inch with stones. Nature has supplied
them, and falling walls are everywhere. We saw one great thing, however.
They are building a new school house and orphanage for the children of
that village. Many of the children are naked everywhere hereabouts and
they stand with sunburned heads, their backs covered only with coats of
dirt, eating their bean food in the street. Everywhere the food is laid
out on tables by the roadside ready to eat. In one temple, a certain
official here has promised to rebuild a small shrine which houses the
laughing Buddha, who is made of bronze and was once covered with
lacquer, which is now mostly split off. At present the only shade the
god has is a roof of mats which they have braced up on the pile of ruins
that once made a roof. The President of the Republic has built a lovely
big gate like the old ones, because it is propitious and would bring him
good fortune. But he has decided it was not propitious, something went
wrong with the gods, I did not learn what it was; anyway, he is now
tearing down one of the big buttresses on one side of it to see if fate
will treat him more kindly then. Just what he wants of fate