Our road lay by the brink of a pretty winding river, the T'sing Ho. It was so tempting that I left my shendzle, and had a glorious walk by the river-side. After the long dusty roads we had traversed, this made me think of the River of Life that is in the midst of the paradise of God, and of what it will be to us who are weary with the heat and strife of this present world!

The shelving banks of the river were green to the water's edge. As the tiny wavelets rippled along it was like the soft murmur of a mother's song in the ear of a sleepy babe. The splash and rush of the flat-bottomed junks, as they came up from behind and swiftly passed with their sails full, were pleasing to the ear. Occasionally we overtook rafts, some laden with slender spars of red pine, and some with naturally grown hayforks of beautiful ash, and as beautifully fashioned as though cut out by the hand. Many rafts were constructed entirely of large lumber. Every now and then the river shallows, and an island divides the channel.