ay; but the next moment he is fronting
me again, and repeating himself with ever-increasing volubility. Finding
my dulness quite impenetrable, he searches out another loquacious mortal,
and by the aid of the tiny beam-scales every Chinaman carries for
weighing broken silver, they finally make it understood that for six big
rounds (dollars) he will convey me in his boat to Chao-choo-foo.
Understanding this, I promptly engage his services.

Bundles of joss-sticks, rice, fish, pork, and a jar of samshoo (rice
arrack) are taken aboard, and by ten o'clock we are underway. Two men,
named respectively Ah Sum and Yung Po, a woman, and a baby of eighteen
months comprise the company aboard. Ah Sum, being but an inconsequential
wage-worker, at once assumes the onerous duties of towman; Yung Po,
husband, father, and sole proprietor of the sampan, manipulates the
rudder, which is in front, and occasionally assists Ah Sum by poling. The
boat-wife stands at the stern and regulates the length of the tow-line;
the baby puts in the first few hours in wondering contemplation of
myself.

The strange river-life of China is all about us; small fishing-boats are
everywhere plying their calling. They are constructed with a central
chamber full of auger-holes for the free admittance of water, in which
the fish are conveyed alive to market, or imprisoned during the owner's
pleasure. Big freight sampans float past, propelled by oars if going
down-stream, and by the combined efforts of tow-line and poles if against
the current. The propelling poles are fitted with neatly carved
"crutch-trees" to fit the shoulder; the polers, sometimes numbering as
many as a dozen, walk back and forth along side-planks and encourage
themselves with cries of "ha-i, ha-i, ha-i." A peculiar and indescribable
inflection would lead one, hearing and not seeing these boatmen, to fancy
himself listening to a flight of brants in stormy weather. Yung Po,
poling by himself, gives utterance to a prolonged cry of "Atta-atta-atta
aaoo ii," every time he hustles along the side-plank.

Much of the scenery along the river is lovely in the extreme, and at dark
we cast anchor in a smooth, silent reach of the river just within the
frowning gateway of a rocky canon. Dark masses of rock tower skyward five
hundred feet in a perpendicular wall, casting a dark shadow over the
twilight shimmer of the water. In the north, the darksome prospect is
invested with a lurid glow, apparently from