China -- Social life and customs; National characteristics, Chinese
I was perfectly delighted at this, for I knew the men by this time to be
pleasant, good-tempered fellows, who would play me no tricks by the way,
and then they were going home, and would not dally by the journey as
strangers might be tempted to do. Preparations were at once made to start
back immediately. The chair was brought round to the door, and the men
with beaming faces and as fresh-looking as though they had done nothing
all day, started back on the long weary journey of fully twenty miles.
Once more we were retracing our way through the long, winding streets of
the city, and then we emerged through the gates into the open country
beyond. A haze of heat lay upon the fields and on the hills. The afternoon
sun, still breathing out fire, glared into the chair and shone upon my
face and played upon the bare skulls of the bearers. Surely that fierce
heat would break their spirit, for I began to feel limp and fagged, though
the only exertion I had to make was to try and keep cool by fanning
myself.
As the afternoon went on, the steps of the bearers became less elastic,
and when we rested at the regular stopping-places, they were less eager in
resuming their journey. Beyond this, they seemed as vigorous as ever, and
forged their way through villages, and past market towns, and round the
foot of hills glowing with amber colours that were flung there with the
lavish hand of the fast-descending sun.
We reached home long after darkness had settled on the landscape, and had
blotted out the hills around which the clouds had gathered to let the sun
paint his evening pictures. We could hear the rustling of the rice, as the
night wind sighed amongst it, and sometimes we would be startled by the
sudden looming up of trees like huge fantastic spectres that had escaped
from the land of darkness to terrify men by their presence.
Travelling in the dark was not an easy matter, for we had to pick our way
over narrow uneven pathways, and across broken dilapidated bridges, and
over stepping-stones in a mountain brook, till finally, worn out and
wearied to death, we stumbled down the dark street that led to our home,
and there I threw myself into the first chair I could find, utterly
exhausted by a journey that few men would undertake even in the coldest
days in winter.
The chair-bearers, after a few whiffs at their bamboo pipes, started to
light the furnace and cook their supper. All the weariness they had shown
during the last hour or two seemed to have vanished, and they laughed and
chatted about the incidents on the road and the funny sights they had
seen. One chopped the wood, whilst the other washed the rice and poured it
into the cauldron, and prepared the vegetables they were to eat with it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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