claim was not entirely justified.

The river life was a fascinating, ever-changing picture. One moment we
would pass a _sampan_ so loaded with branches that it seemed like a small
island floating down the stream. Next a huge junk with bamboo-ribbed sails
projecting at impossible angles drifted by, followed by innumerable smaller
crafts, the monotonous chant of the boatmen coming faintly over the water
to us as they passed.

When evening came we had reached Cui-kau. The _sampans_ in which we were to
spend eight days were drawn up on the beach with twenty or thirty others.
Right above us was the straggling town looking very much like the rear view
of tenement houses at home. Darkness blotted out the filth of our
surroundings but could do nothing to lessen the odors that poured down from
the village, and we ate our dinner with little relish.

Our beds were spread in the _sampans_ which we shared in common with the
four river men who formed the crew. There was only a mosquito net to screen
the end of the boat, but all our surroundings were so strange that this was
but a minor detail. As we lay in our cots we could look up at the stars
framed in the half oval of the _sampan's_ roof and listen to the sounds of
the water life grow fainter and fainter as one by one the river men beached
their boats for the night. It seemed only a few minutes later when we were
roused by a rush of water, but it was daylight, and the boats had reached
the first of the rapids which separated us from Yen-ping, one hundred and
twenty miles away.

In the late afternoon we arrived at Chang-hu-fan where Mr. Caldwell stood
on the shore waving his hat to us amidst scores of dirty little children
and the explosion of countless firecrackers. Wherever we went crackers