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We had been told that we should find ample supplies of fresh food of all sorts everywhere. Nothing 
could have been farther from the truth. We could get no fresh mild, the Chinese considering it 
obscene to extract it; but strangely enough, in even the smallest villages, we were able to buy an 
excellent brand of evaporated cream which some enterprising drummer had managed to unload 
along the track. There was no mutton to be had; and it was only seldom that we managed to but a 
goat or kid. Poultry and eggs were fairly plentiful in most places; rice of an inferior quality and the 
most suspicious-looking kind of pork were the staple food of the people. Flour was rarely available 
and of course there was no butter. 
Salama was in great distress at the difference between the local rice and the Indian variety to 
which he was accustomed, while as a Moslem he abhorred pork. I too would not eat it, valuing the 
respect in which he held me, as a sahib who partook not of the abominations of my race. Luckily, 
distrusting my informant, I had supplied myself with a considerable stock of canned provisions 
before starting, and I increased this at Tengyueh, buying some of Litton's stores from his widow. 
Even so, we were running very short before we reached Yunnanfu. 
At this hour, seventeen years later, I recall almost more vividly than any other incident of the 
journey, an absurd little tragedy in this connection. We had some tins of coffee and milk, and we 
had come to the last portion of the last tin. We treasured it for days, looking forward to enjoying it 
on some great occasion as never an epicure looked forward to a bottle of rare wine. The moment 
came, we prepared the great drink with almost reverential care. And just as we were going to drink 
it, my wife shifted her position and spilled it. It would be hopeless to try to express the bitterness 
of our disappointment. Stay-at-home people can form no idea of the strength of the obsession which 
trifles impose. Conrad in "An Outpost of Progress" tells of a murder and suicide beginning in a 
quarrel between two close friends, traders up-river, over a few lumps of sugar. 
During our short stay in Talifu, we saw the biggest pageant with which the Chinese welcome spring. 
I did not know enough Chinese to understand the details of the ceremony; and the missionaries 
regarded the while business as a blasphemous pagan orgy from which all righteous people should 
avert their gaze. I could see clearly, however, that the central figure was an ox. He was 
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evidently the hero of the occasion because he was going to help them out with their ploughing. It 
was a gay, spontaneous, harmless piece of merriment; to see idolatry in it is sheer morbid 
prejudice. 
We left Tali on February 6th and got back to the main road. The following day was without interest, 
but on the eighth, the latter part of the march led through a delightful valley of the most surprising 
beauty. It was an altogether new type of scenery. China is full of these delicious revelations. It has 
always some new delicate splendour to show the traveller. The variety is infinite, not as Alpine 
peaks or Scottish locks differ, merely in detail; in China, one is always discovering a totally strange 
fairyland. The spirit of a man is reborn with every such vision. It is not even possible to compare 
and contrast these beauties; each is entirely individual, lord of its own atmosphere; the points of 
similarity with other places such as geological formations, the flora, the villages and the people 
seem to possess infinitesimal importance. 
On the ninth there was a novelty of another kind. The dignity of Johnny White as interpreter 
entitled him to ride on horseback; but naturally he had to be content with a somewhat sorry screw, 
wile my own pony was a fairly decent animal. He thought the time ripe to attempt to force me to 
"lose face": that is, to become an object of ridicule to the coolies. If he had succeeded, I need 
hardly point out, there would have been and end of all discipline and we should probably have been 
robbed and murdered in short order. His idea was to start out ahead of us on my pony. I did not find 
out what had happened for some time. 
When I did, I set out on foot at top speed after him. In two or three hours I came up with the 
culprit. As luck would have it, he was crossing a steep hillside; below the path were gigantic thorn 
bushes. I came up quietly and unperceived, put my left hand under his right foot and with one deft