Page:Illustrations of China and Its People vol. IV.pdf/30



THIS view (No. 21) is taken from the city wall of Peking, close to the Ching-yang-men, or central gate, between the Chinese and Tartar quarters. It is in a direct line with the ' centre of the palace, and is the route which the Emperor traverses on his way to the Altar of Heaven.

In the foreground we see a white marble bridge which spans a kind of city moat. This street, like all the thoroughfares in the Tartar city, is a very wide one, and is a place of great concourse and traffic.

The lofty triple roof of the Temple of Heaven appears in the distance. The brick wall on the left is a portion of the great building which has its counterpart over every gate in Peking. These edifices were originally intended for storing ammunition, but the one shown here served for many years as a depository for the engraved wooden blocks employed in printing books. Formerly it contained the complete blocks for the collection of the Buddhist Scriptures, numbering over six thousand volumes, but these have been recently removed to a Buddhist temple in the north-east angle of the city.

Wheeled vehicles arc forbidden to cross the centre of the bridge, this being reserved for the sole use of the Emperor. It is, however, a favourite resort for beggars — one among many such — and is known, therefore, to the European residents in Peking as the Beggars' Bridge. Here we may see these beggars gambling in groups, or stretched upon the pavement to expose their sores and nakedness to the public gaze. Many of these unfortunate and homeless beings are annually cut off by the keen frosts of early winter, and are found dead on the Imperial Bridge.

There are a great number of stalls scattered along the principal streets, some of which are built like the old booths of the High Street of Edinburgh. In the centre of each street a raised causeway has been made, broad enough to accommodate two carts abreast, and intended for the carriage traffic. Between this raised causeway and the shops on either side of the road run broad spaces taken up with booths, tents, and stalls so closely packed as only to leave a narrow footpath close to the shops on the one side, and a chasm of deep mud pools on the other. From these pools material is taken for plastering and repairing the raised causeway. Most of these pools are stagnant and extremely polluted.

One of my most disagreeable experiences during my visit to Peking was a ride along the road whilst the mud from these putrid pools was being ladled on to the highway to lay the dust. The dust, indeed, was laid, but fumes like those of the decomposing dead were raised in its stead. It would have been still worse had I, as some natives have done, lost my footing in a dark night, and been drowned in the mire. The verge of this slough teems with interesting life.

Those who traffic in the stalls find many eager customers to buy their costly wares. I have seen one of these little booths, no better than that of some London costermonger, laden with over a thousand taels worth of jewels. The booths attract the attention of pedestrians. One finds in them all sorts of commodities for sale, and here and there are closely-packed crowds listening to the clever harangue of some auctioneer, who, with rare and ready wit, is extemporising rhyme in praise of cast-off silks, satins, or furs. In one I recollect a Mahometan butcher was plying