The face of Manchuria, Korea, & Russian TurkestanKemp, E. G. (Emily Georgiana)
History
The face of Manchuria, Korea, & Russian Turkestan
Kemp, E. G. (Emily Georgiana)
Asia, Central -- Description and travel; Korea -- Description and travel; Manchuria (China) -- Description and travel
As we zig-zagged up the mountain the air grew colder and denser, for our
carriage was full, and every one smoked but ourselves. We managed to
light the stove with the remains of the luncheon boxes, and fortunately
there was a scuttle of coal with which to replenish it. The main drawback
was the difficulty of escaping being burnt owing to the narrow space, and
one’s dress paid with a couple of holes.
At 7.40 P.M. the train stopped for the night, and we betook ourselves
to a Japanese inn tinctured with Europeanism. It consisted of a squat
tower with ten sides, of which the centre, also ten-sided, formed the
parlour. Each of these inner walls formed a door, seven of which opened
into bedrooms. As they were all alike, no one seemed able to remember
which was his room, so we had to barricade our door if we wanted to
exclude visitors. The other guests were led off in turns to have a
bath, and returned in due course arrayed in hotel dressing-gowns and
slippers to sit before the stove and smoke. Next morning we started again
at 8 o’clock, and spent a similar day to the previous one, climbing
through mountain gorges and crossing and recrossing the same river.
The hill-sides boasted more vegetation, and the brown autumn leaves
still clung to the trees, of which a number are wild mulberry, which
grows freely in these mountains. We reached Antung soon after 6 o’clock,
and went to a Japanese inn, recommended by the proprietor of the one
where we had spent the previous night: he telegraphed to them to meet
us at the station. Antung is a considerable place, and the Japanese
town is situated quite apart from the Chinese; the railway and ferry
were near the hotel, and we started betimes for the latter, which runs
in connection with the train at Wiju on the south bank of the Yalu
River. We took our tickets, but they possessed literally no change at
the ticket-office. I was able to pay almost the correct sum, only three
farthings in excess of the full price, and the man offered to give me
the change later on. It did not seem worth while struggling through a
dirty crowd for this magnificent sum afterwards, so I did not return,
but an hour later, when we were seated in the train at Wiju, an official
solemnly presented the three farthings to me!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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