Orient and Occident

To stand in the doorway of the mission-house at Lanchow, or step out on the busy street, was to receive impressions that had not previously come to us in any city in China. The moving crowds were fascinating, and the questions that sprang to one’s lips endless. What was it — this sense of having passed somehow into a wider world? In Cairo and Damascus we had seen figures like these, but what were they doing here in a remote comer of China? What connection could this far inland province have with India, Persia, and Turkestan? The Road, the Road — the ancient highway running from this city on the Yellow River to meet in the heart of Central Asia similar roads from the Indian Ocean, the Caspian Sea, and the Levant — we were beginning to appreciate what it meant!

For Lanchow, according to Viscount d’Ollone,1 is the eastern terminus of the highway which for centuries has united the rich marts of Orient and Occident. At Kashgar, two thousand miles away, though still in Chinese territory, it connects with

1 Le Commandant d’Ollone, in his recent work, Rechcrches sur les Musulmans chinois (1911). converging roads from north, south, and west, over which the tides of life and commerce have flowed since the early dawn of history, and are flowing still. Through the Western Gate of China these have poured their wealth into the million-peopled provinces which have had so much to give in return. Thus one learns to meet without surprise in Lanchow streets and market-places the Hindu merchant with his silks and pearls, the Mohammedan pilgrim re¬ turning from Mecca, the bearded trader from Chinese or Russian Turkestan, and the turbaned Ch’an-t’eo from the Moslem cities of Central Asia. They bring a sense of far distances, these men with their top-boots and girdles, high hats and turbans, with their long trains of camels and strong-featured faces!

Different again are the red-robed figures we see here for the first time — lamas from the Tibetan monasteries and sturdy mountaineers from that land of mystery and darkness. The latter, clad in sheep¬ skin, rough-headed and with the shyness of wild creatures, seemed out of keeping with luxury and display of a city like this, but for us they had an attraction far greater than that of the well-dressed crowds. Eagerly we watched for them, followed them as they loitered in the market-place, and listened to the strange language they talked with so much animation. But they were few in number, and there was much else to claim our attention.

It was a surprise to find Lanchow a city of so much style and military importance. One knew, of course, that as the governing centre of a province it would be a rendezvous for the official classes, but we were hardly prepared for the way in which the new army was in evidence. Officers and soldiers in foreign uniforms seemed in possession of the city. Bugles were blowing at all hours, and near the Governor’s residence there was a constant movement of military men. This was partly due, no doubt, to apprehension of a Mohammedan uprising which seemed imminent — all thought of which was swept away, however, by the earthquake which took place five days after we reached the city. Meanwhile, as if unconscious of impending danger, business and pleasure went on as usual. The great enclosure before the Governor’s Yamen was thronged with people watching the coming and going of officials of all ranks. Horses, saddled and waiting, were paraded by alert attendants, while through the open doors one caught vistas of wide places, court after court, where matters of importance were being dealt with. Outside the enclosure lay the crowded market, a cosmopolitan bazaar in which everything could be bought from foreign cigarettes to Tibetan butter. Beyond, came the better-class shops of the main street, tempting with their furs and broadcloth made of the finest camel’s-hair and dyed in beautiful colours. Shoe-shops and hat-shops were a strange mingling of old and new in the matter of taste, the dignified black satin of former times being largely replaced by yellow leather footgear and knitted woollen caps in startling shades and shapes. It was a relief to turn to stores which were less modernised, and to read over an old-fashioned book-shop the familiar sign, “Walking the Clouds Hall.”

As to style, we had never seen anything like it, for the variety of equipages in this northern city and the severity of the climate gave scope for more display than in the south. Furs and velvets were in common use, and adorned the saddles of riding horses as well as the interior of sedan-chairs and private carts. Some of the latter were fitted with cushions of gorgeous colours and lined with white fox in panels on purple velvet. And the dress of the elite was in keeping. Such furs! from the treasures of Mongolia and Tibet, some of them with leopards’ spots and stripes that seemed melting into moonlight, to fleecy lambs’-skins, black and white, and all made up on rich brocaded satins. But these were only passing impressions, caught with many another amid the moving throngs.

First, last, and far more clamant was the appeal of this great city for Christian service. What a centre for the Church of Christ to occupy in strength! Think only of the young men, thousands of whom are here on business, as students, or in Government employ, away from home and exposed to every temptation. A Young Men’s Christian Association, with “Christian” given the right place, is a need of which one is constantly reminded in Lanchow. A man fitted for this work could count upon co-operation from the Chinese Christians, some of whom are deeply burdened about the young fellows pouring into the city, so many of whom are obliged to live in inns, where gamblers, opium-smokers, and singing women congregate. It is enough to burden any Christian heart. Then there are the soldiers of the standing army, many of whom might be reached in connection with such a Y.M.C.A. arnd with the help of its members.

How this need would have appealed to William Borden, the Yale student who gave his life and fortune to God for missionary service, and who heard as few have heard it the call of this great North-West! His early death in Cairo, while studying Arabic with a view to reaching the Mohammedans of this province, robbed Kansu of one of its truest friends and the C.I.M. of one of its most promising workers. The Borden Memorial Hospital keeps his memory fresh here by the Yellow River; but oh for his loving heart, his prayerful Christ like spirit, his ardent youth and splendid manhood, to win for Christ the young men of this city! May the Master he so truly loved, and Whose holy companionship made him what he was, fit and call out others for this waiting work.

A visit to the hospital was, of course, one of the first expeditions to be made, and a long business it proved, for it was one thing to get to the river and quite another to cross it. In Mrs. Mann’s private cart we had to wait amid the traffic at the bridge-head outside the North Gate of the city, traffic as congested as on any bridge in London. One reason for the delay was that each cart must take its turn to drop on to one of the little trolleys, just wide enough to hold the wheels, by which they are conveyed across the bridge. The trolley, running on tram¬ lines, is drawn by the animals of the cart, the wheels of which do not come into requisition again until it plunges into the waiting crowd of mules and camels, carts and drivers on the other side. Pedestrians jostle their way through the same blockade to the footpaths to right and left of the bridge, by which they cross in a few minutes. It is a wonderful achievement in the eyes of the Chinese to have superseded the bridge of boats, only usable at certain seasons, with this permanent, light-looking span, so strong that the heavy traffic hardly seems to shake it, and so high that it is far above the highest water-mark.

Waiting for our turn at the bridge-head we had a good opportunity for watching the people, who were too busy to take much notice of us. We could smile unobserved at an amusing fashion which seemed popular among the younger men — the huge fur collar, standing up all round the head as high as the top of the hat, with just a narrow opening in front for the wearer to look out at! More to our mind were the fur caps in great variety, all of which had devices for covering ears and neck and forehead too, right down to the eyebrows. During the warmer part of the day, these were jauntily rolled back, but no sooner did the sun disappear than they came into requisition again, leaving little to be seen but the eyes and nose of the well-protected wearer.

Waiting in the cart we had also time to take in something of the farther shore. The suburb with which the bridge connects is long and narrow, because the mountains rising from the river-bank only allow room enough for one street from end to end. The chief importance of the suburb seems to be that it is on the great road, which crosses the river at this point and starts with a long ascent on its way to Central Asia. Then there are temples of special interest overlooking the river, for these northern heights are a favourite resort for pilgrims. Very striking was the scene in brilliant sunshine — temples all the way from water to skyline one above the other, the larger, more important ones being on the busy street and at the summit, while in between smaller ones afford resting-places all the way up. Facing south they have much the same outlook as the hospital, which is farther down the river, some ten minutes’ walk from the bridge.

The situation is glorious as regards fresh air and sunshine, though the distance from the city must affect the number of patients. Tier above tier rise the wards on their separate courtyards, like spreading wings, for men on one side and for women on the other. In between stand the doctors’ houses, immediately above the central building with its out¬ patient department. There the operating-rooms and private wards are situated, and a covered bridge connects the upper story with the path to the doctors’ houses. It was a joy to stand at those south windows or walk up and down in the sunshine on any of the terraces and look out over that magnificent river, slowly carrying down great floes of ice from Tibet. The wood-yards near the water were piled high with Tibetan timber, and on the farther shore rose the turreted wall, massive gates, and outstanding buildings of the city.

It was a disappointment to see little of the regular work of the hospital, Dr. King’s absence on furlough and the intense cold of winter having almost emptied the wards. The patients who were still there were well cared for by Dr. and Mrs. Parry, Miss Knox, and their Chinese fellow- workers, but the chief interest for

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? cj the time being centred round the Russian refugees, who formed so striking a party. The tall soldierly figure of the General was erect and steady, though his face showed something of the terrible strain of the past two years. In escaping from the Red Terror he had had to bring his wife and daughters, girls of eighteen and twenty, utterly unprovided for, all the way from the Russian province of which he had been Governor, across mountains and deserts and down the great road into China. How the journey had ever been accomplished was a marvel. But the girls who had gone through so much were modest and charming in their sheep-skin coats and felt boots, and the mother, worn out as she was, only broke down when she heard the singing in the meetings on Sunday. She could not speak English, but asked her daughters to explain that she was not really weeping — it was only that she was so glad to be among those who loved the Lord and to hear hymns again. The worst of their journey in some ways still lay ahead when they left for the coast, provided with all that inland hospitality could supply. For three days later, just when they had reached the district which suffered most, the terrible upheaval came which left them in the midst of death and desolation. They have safely reached the Russian colony at Hankow long ere this, however, and are endeavouring to succour other refugees seeking escape by the same road.