once they have fomented bloody revolutions, one of them, the
great Panthay rebellion of 1885-1874, costing the lives of no
less than two million Moslems before it was suppressed.

But those who bore me up the long slope of Tai-shan were
as good-natured as they were muscular. There is no difficulty
about ascending the mountain, for a stone-paved path about
ten feet wide runs from base to summit. The maker of this
road is unknown as the earliest records and monuments refer
only to repairs. But he builded well and evidently with ``an
unlimited command of naked human strength,'' for the blocks
of stone are heavy and the masonry of the walls and bridges is
still massive.

As the slope becomes steeper, the path merges into long
flights of solid stone steps. Near the summit, these steps
become so precipitous that the traveller is apt to feel a little
dizzy, especially in descending, for the chair coolies race down
the steep stairway in a way that suggests alarming possibilities
in the event of a misstep or a broken rope. But the men are
sure-footed and mishaps seldom occur. The path is bordered
by a low wall and lined with noble old trees. Ancient temples,
quaint hamlets, numerous tea-houses and a few nunneries with
vicious women are scattered along the route. A beautiful
stream tumbles noisily down the mountainside close at hand,
alternating swift rapids and deep, quiet pools, while as the
traveller rises, he gains magnificent vistas of the adjacent mountains
and the wide cultivated plain, yellow with ripening wheat,
green with growing millet, and thickly dotted with the groves
beneath which cluster the low houses of the villages.