We are making a journey, Miss Sterling, Ai Lang, Bing Ding and I to the
Monastery of Dreams on the tall mountain Koshan. From the Compound we
came in early morning time by boat and now in sedan chairs we ascend
into the clouds. At each placement of rest we stop. While coolies catch
at breath and smoke at pipe, we drink of tea and watch at view. It is
most wondrous. Trees of a growth extraordinary. Rocks of mightiness each
bearing an inscription from the Classics. Down side of mountain,
tumbling into waterfalls over boulders of bigness flows a stream of the
clearness of glass. Below, the "Happy Valley" stretches myriads of miles
away, of green in shadow and gold in sunshine, all of uttermost beauty.

There are steps of stone that one may arrive at Tea-houses higher up
mountain side. I beg of Miss Sterling that I may to leave chair and
mount up steps. All girls come and we climb, making readings of rocks as
we go. I find great comfort in my reading - "With what little wisdom is
the world governed." For the business of Genius makes me tired and
tonight I must become fresh, like unto a daisy, for out of me must I
cough up a Poem.

We are nearing the Monastery. High in air above our heads, the bell from
the Temple tolls. As we climb Miss Sterling tells of the wicked man who
tolls it. For twenty-five years he has made penance for his wicked sins.
He was doomed to toll the bell and never speak; now he cannot to speak
one word, but tolls on. That's not dead easy. I have of sorrow for that
man. Tonight I will to compose a Poem to him.

We enter the open court of the Monastery. All is of great stillness and
peace. Only tinkling of fountain in centre of court makes soundings.
Beyond fountain is lake full of brilliant colourings. By lake we make
pauses and see that colourings are red, blue, green and gold fishes -