The day had been hard going.  We pursued our way unheedingly, as men knowing not whither we went; and at 4:00 p.m., fearing that we should not be able to make Ban-chiao, where we intended stopping, I decided to go no farther than Tali-shao.  The evening was one of the happiest I spent in my journeys, although personal comfort was entirely lacking.  The place is made up of just a few hovels; people were hostile, and turned a deaf ear to my men’s entreaties for shelter.  For very helplessness I laughed aloud.  I screamed with laughter, and the folk gathered to see me almost in hysterics.  They soon began to smile, then to laugh, and seeing the effect, I laughed still louder, and soon had the whole village with tears of laughter making furrows down their unwashed faces, laughing as a pack of hyenas.  At last a kind old woman gave way to my boy’s persuasions, beckoning us to follow her into a house.  Here we found a young girl of about nine summers in charge.  It was all rare fun.  There was nothing to eat, and so the men went one here and another there buying supplies for the night.  Another cleared out the room, and made it a little habitable.  The bull-dog coolie cooked the rice, Shanks boiled eggs and cut up the pork into small slices, another fed the pony, and then we fed ourselves.

In the evening a wood fire was kindled in the corner near my bed, and we all sat round on the mud floor—­stools there were none—­to tell yarns.  My confederates were out for a spree.  We smoked and drank tea and yarned.  Suddenly a stick would be thrust over my shoulder to the fire:  it was merely a man’s pipe going to the fire for a light.  Chinese never use matches; it is a waste when there are so many fires about.  If on the road a man wants to light his pipe, he walks into a home and gets it from the fire.  No one minds.  No notice is taken of the intrusion.  Everybody is polite, and the man may not utter a word.  At a wayside food-shop a man may go behind to where the cooking is being conducted, poke his pipe into the embers, and walk out pulling at it, all as naturally as if that man were in his own house.  An Englishman would have a rough time of it if he had to go down on his hands and knees and pull away at a pipe from a fire on the floor.

No father, no mother, no elder brother had the little girl in charge.  She was left without friends entirely, and a man must have been a hard man indeed were he to steel his heart against such a helpless little one.  I called her to me, gave her a little present, and comforted her as she cried for the very knowledge that an Englishman would do a kind act to a little waif such as herself.  She was in the act of giving back the money to me, when Lao Chang, with pleasant aptitude, interposed, explained that foreigners occasionally develop generous moods, and that she had better stop crying and lock the money away.  She did this, but the poor little mite nearly broke her heart.

Ban-chiao, which we reached early the next morning, is a considerable town, where most of the people earn their livelihood at dyeing.  Those who do not dye drink tea and pass rude remarks about itinerant magnates, such as the author.  I passed over the once fine, rough-planked bridge at the end of the town.