rder to live, let others live. I
met an example of that in Peking. Opposite the hotel door stood a long
line of rickshaws. You soon had a favourite man, and after that the
others never thrust themselves forward, but, instead, at once set up a
shout for him if he failed to note your appearance. However, the Chinese
individual is one thing, the Chinese mob another. It was not many years
since an infuriated crowd stormed through the streets of Chengtu seeking
the lives of the foreigners, and in even fewer weeks after my visit
other crowds would besiege the viceroy's yamen demanding justice for
their wrongs. For even when I was there the undercurrent of discontent
in the province was visible. The students of the university, like those
in Yunnan-fu, had more than once got out of hand; people complained
that the new educational system lacked the discipline of the old, and
indeed Young China seems to outdo even Young America in self-assurance,
and in the spring of 1911 the university was just beginning to recover
from the turmoil of a strike of the students for some real or fancied
slight by the Government.

And there was more serious trouble afoot. The Szechuan merchants and
gentry, wealthy and enterprising, had contributed generously (for China)
to the building of a railway connecting the western capital with
Wan-hsien and Ichang, but now they were hearing that the money had been
squandered and the railway was to be built with foreign capital. It was
bad enough to lose their money, but the evil that might come in the
trail of the foreigner's money was worse. So people were talking hotly
against the new "railway agreement," and it proved in the end the
proverbial straw, for three months later the Railway League of Szechuan
set in motion the revolution which overthrew the Manchus and the empire.

But these things were still on the knees of the gods, and my stay in
Chengtu was altogether delightful, save for the thought that here my
out-of-the-way journeying ended. Henceforth I should go by ways often
travelled by Europeans. And then I was leaving so much behind. Of my
caravan only three would go on with me, the interpreter, the cook, and
the Yunnan coolie, who was ready to stay by me a little longer. The rest
I had paid off, giving to all a well-earned tip, and receiving from each
of my chair-men in turn a pretty, embarrassed "Thank you," learned from
hearing me say it. The pony, too, would go no farther, for most of the
next