Will the spirit which instituted the ancient notable public works of China revive again? That is the question. The greatest irrigation work in the world, 2,100 years old, is in China at Chingtu. It was invented by Li Ping, the engineer-governor, B. C. 250. A plain seventy-five miles by forty miles is irrigated. It supports nearly 4,000,000 people. The water is taken from the Min River at Kwan Hien above Chingtu in April, and is permitted to run in the thousands of channels until November. Then the great banks of the Min are restored, as the rains are sufficient, and the river runs in its old bed to join the “father of waters”, the Yangtze River, at Sui Fu. The dikes are made of iron, cement, stone, timber and bamboo cradles. Li left this message, which is cut in the stones of his tomb outside the walls of Chingtu: “Shen Tao Tan Ti Tso Yen” (Dig deep the bars, keep low the dikes). The Chinese are going to use these works to produce power and light as well as irrigation. At Li Ling, over the Lu Ho River in southeast Hunan province, is a high wooden cantilever bridge of six spans, four hundred and eighty feet long and twenty feet wide, paved with cobbles, and covered with an awning. The substructure is masonry, and the cantilever principle is obtained by increasing the length of the pier timbers as they are laid on one another. I want to describe a beautiful suspension bridge over the Yang Ti River near Tali in Yunnan province, which shows that engineering ability was generally spread throughout the provinces to reach thus far in the extreme southwest. The double piers on each side of the stream rise in great strength, and the arch is joined and roofed over most artistically in characteristic Chinese style, like a temple. Eight suspended iron chains make the floor of the bridge, which is anchored half-way up the stone piers, under the arch. From the chains arises a bamboo fence, which is kept from spreading by stanchions, under which you must stoop at regular distances. There is a commemoration statue of a recumbent water buffalo at the foot of one of the pairs of piers. It and the bridge are all that remain of the forgotten assemblage of orators, patrons, troops and society which ages ago graced the occasion, another triumph of the doers over the talkers. The engineer and the architect alone build their own monuments. As in the case of Christopher Wren at St. Paul’s, “_Si monumentum requiris, circumspice_.”