The attentions which a curious populace lavish upon a stranger are apt to become a trouble and a burden, as Garnier experienced, when, after an interesting survey of the environs of Lin-ngan, he returned to the town. His steps were closely dogged by crowds of idlers and sightseers. On his arrival at the pagoda where lodging had been provided for him, behold! the balconies, the towers, the very roofs, were thronged with wondering eyes.

As he entered the court, the multitude pressed in upon him, and hemmed him up at last in a narrow space, where they evidently designed to hold him fast until their curiosity was satiated. Angry and ashamed, he bore their scrutiny for an hour; when, his strength and patience giving way, he made a sudden exit into his lodgings, closing the door of the court behind him. It proved, however, an insufficient barrier against the surging throng. They broke through it in a second, and were with difficulty kept back a little by Garnier’s small escort of soldiers, who had attended him from Yuen-kiang. The lieutenant succeeded at last in closing the door. Then loud and long were the reproaches which the rearmost ranks heaped on those in front for having recoiled before a barbarian from the West!

A stone, hurled through the grating, struck Garnier full in the face; others followed, until there seemed every likelihood of his undergoing the tortures of the ancient punishment by lapidation! Yet he yielded not an inch, but leaning against the door, which shook before the storm of missiles, seized his revolver, and fired it in the air. Firearms of such deadly powers are not known at Lin-ngan, and the crowd, in the firm belief that by discharging his weapon Garnier had virtually disarmed himself, recommenced their volleys of stones. He fired again, and again, and again; and the people, terrified by a weapon which apparently was inexhaustible, fell back in a panic, and the danger proved to be past.

Soon afterwards Garnier was joined by the rest of the expedition; and setting out from inhospitable Lin-ngan, the little company of explorers proceeded on their way to Yunnan, the capital of a province of the same name.

Yunnan is a town of some importance, with a very numerous and industrious population. Every thoroughfare presents a scene of the liveliest activity. The town is surrounded by a high and massive wall; and from the south gate extends a long broad street, lined with shops, each of which has on its front a sign in gilded characters, while the interior is filled with wares of extraordinary richness and variety. Some Jesuit missionaries are stationed here.

The travellers now entered the green valley of Kon-tchang, through the leafy shades of which tumbles a sparkling, noisy stream, while on either hand rise venerable trees, with trunks bent and contorted as if by some sudden convulsion. Thence they ascended to Mong-kou by a difficult road, winding round the precipitous flank of a wind-swept height, the summit of which, some twelve thousand feet above the sea, was capped with snow. Wild and romantic was the character of the scenery, reminding the travellers of that of Switzerland. At intervals the expedition met with a check to its progress from the jealousy of the Chinese officials, but resolution and tact overcame every obstacle. Through the broad valley of Tong-chuen they debouched on a small but well-cultivated plain, where the solid embankment of the bed of a torrent formed a kind of causeway, raised seven to ten feet above the surrounding level. From the sides of this elevated dyke issue numerous canals, which distribute the fertilizing waters of the stream over all the thirsty fields. Here, as in many other districts of China, the patient industry of the labourer has transformed a devastating force into a fountain of wealth and fecundity. A WELL-CULTIVATED DISTRICT. The aspect of the plain is very grateful to the eye. Yellow clusters of the colza mingle with the white or purple corollas of the poppies. From the ridge which terminates it is visible a deep cleft in the barrier of mountains that stretches far along the horizon. This is the valley of the Blue River, locally known as the Kin-cha-kiang, or “River of the Golden Sand.”

Our explorers came upon this river on the 31st of January. It rolled its clear deep waters in a ravine two thousand feet below them. Their route, however, still lay along the mountain-sides, and they suffered severely from the rigour of the cold and the heavy storms of snow which beat continually upon their devoted heads. On the 3rd of February they crossed the most elevated point they had reached in all their wanderings,—the barometer indicating an elevation of nearly ten thousand feet. Then they began to descend, each stage opening up to their enraptured gaze a succession of glorious mountain-views, relieved by occasional glimpses of finely wooded valleys, and of bright streams that leaped and bounded in their haste to join the great river of the plains. As they descended the temperature necessarily grew warmer, and out of the inclemencies of winter they rapidly passed into the genial airs of spring.

On the 29th of February, from the summit of the col which forms the little valley of Kuang-tsa-pin, they discovered the lake of Taly, one of the finest and grandest pictures which had excited their admiration since they entered on their expedition. The background consists of a lofty chain of snow-capped mountains, at the foot of which the blue waters of the lake break up the plain into a maze of low promontories covered with gardens and villages. A short descent brought them to the borders of the lake, which they passed to the northward in order to reach its eastern shore. The many villages through which they took their way exhibited the cruellest traces of devastation. Only the cultivated fields seem to have been spared, and these presented a flourishing appearance. FORTRESS OF HIANG-KUAN. In due time they arrived before the gates of the fortress of Hiang-kuan; which, erected at the very base of the mountain, and on the margin of the lake, completely barred the passage. There they learned from the mandarin in charge, that he would not allow them to continue their journey, until permission had been obtained from the sultan of Taly. This reached them on the following day; and, on the 2nd of March, the journey was resumed. They passed through Hiang-kuan, the walls of which bathe on the one side their feet in the waters of the lake, and on the other ascend the flanks of the mountain, which forms a tremendous precipice, rendering the defile very easy of defence.

Beyond, the shore of the lake again expanded into a magnificent plain, in the centre of which is situated the city of Taly. At the southern extremity of the lake the mountains again close in upon its waters; and this second defile is commanded by another fortress—that of Hia-kuan. Hia-kuan and Hiang-kuan, surrounded by massive crenelated ramparts, are the two gates of Taly. Defended by brave men they would be impregnable, and render access to the city impossible except by water.

A great paved causeway crosses the plain of Hiang-kuan to Taly. Escorted by ten soldiers, the French travellers entered the latter city by its north gate. In a few moments an immense crowd gathered in their rear, and lined each side of the great street which traverses Taly from north to south. Having arrived in front of the sultan’s palace—a crenelated building of sombre and severe aspect—they halted to parley with a couple of mandarins who had been sent to meet them. During this vexatious pause they were surrounded and pressed upon by the crowd, and a soldier violently snatched off the hat of one of the strangers—probably in order that the sultan, who was regarding them from an upper balcony, might the better see his face. This insolence was punished immediately by a blow which drew blood from the aggressor’s countenance, and gave rise to an indescribable tumult. The interposition of the two mandarins, the resolute attitude of the Annamites, who grouped themselves around the French travellers, and unsheathed their sword-bayonets, arrested, however, the hostile demonstrations of the crowd, and they reached without further contretemps the yamen assigned to them for a residence, situated at the southern extremity of the town.

Immediately after their arrival, a mandarin of higher rank than any they had previously seen presented himself as the formal representative of the sultan, and asked who they were, whence they came, and what they wanted.

Through the medium of one PÈre Leguilcher, a Jesuit missionary, who had accompanied them, Garnier replied, that they had been sent by the French Government to explore the countries watered by the Lan-tsan-kiang; that having arrived in Yunnan some months ago, they had learned that a new kingdom had been established at Taly, and had desired to pay their respects to its ruler, with the view of opening up commercial and friendly relations between France and him. Some explanations of the scientific object and really pacific character of their mission were added. Garnier offered an excuse also for having only presents of small value to offer to the sultan; and for being unable, along with the officers of the expedition, to appear before him in suitable costume, the length and difficulties of their journey having compelled them to leave behind almost all the baggage. The mandarin replied very graciously that there was no need for apologies on that score, and that as they were, they would be welcome. To prevent mistakes, Garnier then asked for details as to the ceremonial observed at an audience of the sovereign. It was customary, said the mandarin, to make three genuflexions before the sultan. On Garnier objecting to this servile homage, he consented to allow the French usage, with the condition that no one carried arms into the august presence. After an interchange of compliments, the mandarin took his leave, while the Frenchmen remained enraptured with his cordiality and straight-forwardness.

Before long he returned, accompanied by a ta-seu—that is, by one of the eight great dignitaries who compose the council of the sultan. Both requested Lieutenant Garnier to repeat the explanations he had previously given as to the objects of the expedition; and he did so, in the fewest words possible. “You were not, then, sent expressly by your sovereign to Taly?” “How could that be,” replied the lieutenant, “when at our departure nobody in France knew that the town had a king?” They then requested M. Garnier to intrust to them, for the purpose of showing them to the sultan, the Chinese letters, of which he was the bearer, to the king of Se-chuen. To this he consented; and they withdrew, apparently quite satisfied.

The first night at Taly was undisturbed. The lieutenant’s intention was, if all went well, to leave his companions to rest themselves for a few days in the city; while he and PÈre Leguilcher pushed forward to the banks of the Lan-tsan-kiang, about four days’ journey, and ascended that river as far as Li-kiang-foo, where the remainder of the expedition would rejoin him in due course.

At nine o’clock next morning, when he was collecting all the information necessary for the execution of this project, a messenger came from the sultan to fetch PÈre Leguilcher. He did not return until noon, and then his face was overclouded. The sultan refused to see them, and had issued orders that they were to quit the city on the following morning, and return by the route they came. THE SULTAN AND THE PRIEST. “Make known to the strangers,” he had said, “that they may seize all the lands bordering upon the Lan-tsan-kiang, but they will be compelled to halt on the frontiers of my kingdom. They may subjugate the eighteen provinces of China; but that which I govern will cause them more trouble than all the rest of the empire. Dost thou not know,” he continued, “that it is but three days since I put to death three Malays? If I grant their lives to your companions, it is only because they are strangers, and on account of the letters of recommendation which they carry. But let them hasten their return. They may have sketched my mountains, and fathomed the depths of my rivers; but they will not succeed in conquering them. As for thee,” concluded the sultan, in a softer tone, “I know thy religion, and have read its books. Mohammedans and Christians are brothers. Return to thy place of residence, and I will make thee a mandarin, to the end that thou mayst govern thy people.”

Throughout the interview, the father was kept standing, and not allowed to speak; overwhelmed with questions to which no reply was permitted, interpellated and hooted at by the crowd.

To what circumstance, says M. Garnier, was so abrupt a change attributable? Undoubtedly to the influence of the military advisers of the king, who would be unable to believe in a purely scientific and disinterested mission. A despotism sprung from a revolution, abhorred by the masses whom it overwhelmed with imposts, existing only through terror and crime, is forced to be cruel and suspicious. The official relations between the French explorers and the Chinese authorities had placed the former, with regard to the sultan of Taly, in a delicate position which justified his mistrust.

During the rest of the day, the travellers were visited by a great number of Mohammedan functionaries, actuated by curiosity or a desire to watch their doings. They thought it prudent, therefore, to abstain from sketching or taking notes. About five o’clock, the sultan sent for the chief of their escort; who returned soon afterwards, and said that he had orders to conduct them back to Hiang-kuan on the following morning. He showed M. Garnier at the same time a sealed document, which he had to convey to the mandarin of that fortress. A few presents attached him to the interests of the French explorers, who arranged to start with him at daybreak and avoid traversing the town. For Garnier feared lest, the sultan’s suspicions and anger being known, the crowd should break out into open hostility, or a few soldiers attempt to satisfy their ruler’s secret desire without actually compromising him.

At nightfall, the lieutenant took care to see that all the weapons of his party were loaded, and instructed them what steps to take in case of a surprise. He sought, by liberal promises, to secure the complete fidelity of the porters.

The night was spent in a painful condition of expectancy. A sentinel had been stationed at their door, who followed them each time they went out. M. Garnier dreaded every moment the arrival of an order to prohibit their departure, and transform their temporary confinement into definite captivity. About eleven o’clock one of the great mandarins of the sultan sent to inquire by what route they intended to return; and received for reply, that they did not know. The night passed without any other incident.

At five in the morning they were on the march, well armed, and carefully grouped; they turned the city of Taly by the south and east, and with scarcely a halt crossed the twenty miles that separated them from Hiang-kuan. As they were about to enter the first gate of the fortress, the chief of their escort stopped them, and said he was ordered, pending the arrival of fresh instructions from the sultan, to lodge them in a small yamen which he obligingly pointed out.

Garnier pretended to regard as a special act of courtesy what was evidently neither more nor less than a disguised sequestration, and replied that, after the cold welcome he had received at Taly, he could not accept the sultan’s hospitality. Unwilling, however, that this hurried retreat should look too like a flight, he added that if the mandarin of Hiang-kuan had any communications to make, he would await them in the little wayside auberge where he had rested on his way to Taly.

The Mohammedan officer objected that he would be assuming a grave responsibility if he allowed any such modification of the sultan’s orders. But Garnier was resolute; having determined, if necessary, to force a passage before he could have time to arouse the garrison of Hiang-kuan. While the sultan’s lieutenant put his horse at a gallop to forewarn the governor of the dispute which had arisen, Garnier led his little company through the fortress gates, without encountering any fresh obstacles, and in a few minutes was encamped at the auberge already spoken of, with the open country before him.

He had scarcely arrived when the governor of Hiang-kuan sent for PÈre Leguilcher. He offered him an enormous price for the revolver which Garnier had intended for the sultan, and stated that he had orders to furnish them with a new escort, and two mandarins to accompany them to the frontier, and regulate the stages of their journey; and further, that they were to pass the night at Hiang-kuan, and wait until the following morning for the arrival of the said mandarins and escort.

Garnier replied that he would make a present of the weapon, but that he did not sell arms; that in his journey he reserved to himself full liberty of action, and that he cared nothing at all about the mandarins and the promised escort. This he conclusively showed by starting in the evening for Ma-cha, a village situated at the northern extremity of the lake.

On the 5th of March the journey was continued; and by nightfall the expedition reached the town of Kuang-tia-pin. Their arrival was immediately made known to the commandant of the neighbouring fort, who sent for PÈre Leguilcher. The good monk was filled with alarm at the thought of the probable results of the interview. The commandant might have received orders to separate from their interpreter the little company of strangers; who, left to themselves, unacquainted with the language and ignorant of the customs of the country, might the more easily be entrapped into an ambuscade! On the other hand, the route lay underneath the guns of the fort, and it was imprudent to come to an open rupture with its governor. They contented themselves, therefore, with replying that the evening was too far advanced for a visit, but that PÈre Leguilcher would accept the invitation next morning.

This answer did not satisfy; and three soldiers presented themselves with orders for the father to follow them.

The poor missionary, overcome with terror, thought that his last hour had come. It seemed to him as dangerous to resist as to obey. M. Garnier had to decide for him; and he repeated to the soldiers the reply already given, and desired them to be content with it. They insisted on their instructions with all the insolence and astonishment inspired by a resistance to which they were unaccustomed. Alarmed by their threats, which PÈre Leguilcher understood much better than his companions, the missionary wished to comply; but Garnier detained him, while his Annamite attendants showed the soldiers “the way out.” The latter retired, vowing that they would return in great force, and that the heads of the strangers should soon be adorning the posts in the market-place.

By this time the travellers had become accustomed to such “brave words,” and gave little heed to them. They took, however, the necessary precautions: each man received a revolver in addition to his carbine, and even PÈre Leguilcher consented to equip himself with carnal weapons. All the approaches to the auberge were guarded, and the utmost vigilance was maintained throughout the night. They were but ten in number; but as each was equipped with carbine and revolver, they could discharge seventy shots without reloading, which would suffice to keep at a respectful distance a whole regiment of Mohammedans. But no enemy made his appearance.

At daybreak, after having passed in review before them all their porters, and appointed the town of Too-tong-tse as a rendezvous, Garnier and his companions, on horseback, escorted the Jesuit missionary to the gate of the fortress. They then informed the commandant that the father had come to pay the desired visit, but that it could not be prolonged beyond ten minutes; if at the expiration of that time the father had not returned, they would come in quest of him. This peremptory message was intended to produce an impression on people accustomed to see everybody trembling before them. Such language to them would be terrifically novel! It had a good effect. The governor of the fortress contented himself with communicating to PÈre Leguilcher the order he had received from Taly to escort them to the frontier. The father replied in the words which Garnier had addressed to the governor of Hiang-kuan, and his interlocutor did not insist; he even begged him to shorten the interview, for fear, he said, he should overstay the time allotted, and arouse the impatience of the “great men.” And so, an hour later, the whole party arrived in safety at the worthy father’s residence, where they enjoyed ten days of entire rest, rendered necessary by the fatigue and emotion they had recently undergone.

On the 7th another messenger arrived from the fort, with a request that PÈre Leguilcher would come “alone” to consult with the governor on the stages of the travellers’ journey. No notice was taken of the communication.

In spite of the rapidity with which M. Garnier had been compelled to pursue his march, he contrived to collect some interesting particulars of the country, its inhabitants, and resources.

The lake of Taly, situated at an elevation above the sea-level of upwards of seven thousand five hundred feet, measures about twenty miles from north to south, with an average breadth of two miles. Its depth is very considerable,—exceeding three hundred and twenty feet at some points. There appear to be several islands scattered towards the south-east. The level of the lake is higher than that of the neighbouring rivers, and its overflow may possibly help to feed those on the north and east, which belong to the Blue River basin. Ostensibly it pours forth its waters at its southern extremity by a river which empties itself into the Mekong. At the mouth of this river, which is not navigable, stands the fortress of Hia-kuan, already spoken of. Shortly after issuing from the lake, it divides into two branches, but these unite again lower down. During the rainy season the waters rise fully seventeen feet; in the dry season, the chain of the Tien Song mountains, on the western shore of the lake, send down a succession of violent squalls, which greatly impede its navigation. This chain, the elevation of which is estimated at sixteen thousand feet, is clothed with snow for nine months in the year. On the opposite bank rises a mass of heights belonging to a range of inferior importance. Between these mountains and the lake some richly-cultivated fields slope gently to the edge of the deep blue waters.

The lake abounds in fish, which are principally caught by birds trained for the purpose. The process adopted is better than that known in Europe as de pÊche au cormoran.

The fishermen set out at early morn, making a tremendous din and clamour, so as to awaken the attention of the numerous troops of birds slumbering around them. They embark on board flat-bottomed boats, each provided with a well, which they allow to drift along slowly, while one of them, stationed at the bow, throws into the water enormous balls of rice. The fish hasten in immense shoals to enjoy the banquet; and the fishing-birds, flocking round the boats in great numbers, dive and reappear immediately, each with a fish in its bill. As fast as they fill their pouch, the boatmen empty it into the interior of the bark, leaving to each winged fisher just enough to satisfy its appetite and encourage its ardour. In half an hour each boat is loaded, and the boatmen hasten to dispose of their stores at the nearest market.

The plain of Taly formerly contained upwards of one hundred and fifty villages, which the sultan has attempted to repeople almost exclusively with Mohammedans. The eastern shore is inhabited by the Min-kia and Pen-ti populations, who are descended from the first Chinese colonists whom the Mongolian dynasty sent into Yunnan after the conquest of that province. The Min-kia come from the neighbourhood of Nankin. The women do not mutilate their feet; and the young people of both sexes wear a kind of bonnet, of original form, ornamented by a silver pearl. Evidence of their admixture with the former inhabitants of the country is found in their costumes and language. These ancient Chinese emigrants are treated with contempt by pure-blooded Chinese; and hence results an antagonism which not a little contributed to ensure the neutrality of the Min-kia, at the beginning of hostilities between the Mohammedans and the Imperialists. But, after a while, the despotic and violent acts of the rulers of Taly exasperated even this pacific race; and, led by an energetic chief named Tong, the Min-kia long maintained a successful resistance against the Mohammedans. Tong fell in battle in 1866, and the conquerors pursued his family with merciless vengeance. At present, the natives of the districts contiguous to Taly, disorganized and without a leader, submit to, while hating, the domination of the sultan. The Pen-ti occupy more particularly the plain of Tong-chuen, north of the lake, and the district of the Pe-yen-tsin. Their costume is original and characteristic.

Under different names, the Lolos, or representatives of the autochthonous race, inhabit the summits of the mountains, and assert their independence. With their continual forays they harass the dwellers in the plains. Certain districts in the vicinity of Pien-kio pay to one of these tribes, the Tcha-Su, an annual sum by way of blackmail, in order to secure their cattle. Even this payment, however, does not protect them from occasional depredations; and they cannot claim, when their herds are carried off, more than half their value.

A considerable trade is carried on between Taly and Tibet, consisting of imports of kuang-lien, a bitter root much used in Chinese medicine, woollen stuffs, stag-horns, bear-skins, fox-skins, wax, oils, and resinous gums. Exports from Yunnan include tea, cottons, rice, wine, sugar, mercery, and hardware.

The industrial production of the kingdom of Taly has diminished considerably since the war. Formerly, it was of much importance from a metallurgical point of view. The copper mines of Long-pao, Ta-kong, and Pe-iang are the most valuable in the whole country, where are also found deposits of gold, silver, mercury, iron, lead, and zinc. At Ho-kin paper is made from bamboo. The stems of the plant are made up into bundles of equal length, which are peeled and macerated in lime. They are afterwards placed in an oven, and steamed for twenty days; then they are exposed to a current of cold water, and deposited in layers in a second oven, each layer being covered with a coating of pease-meal and lard. After another “cooking,” they are converted into a kind of paste, which is extended on trellis-work in excessively thin layers, and dried in the sun. In this way the manufacturers turn out their sheets of a paper coarse and uneven enough, but very stout.