GETTING INTO A CHINESE FORT.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2743, 7 January 1882, Page 2

GETTING INTO A CHINESE FORT.

We are fairly inside and are walking along a broad stone pathway when a soldier cleaning a Snider tells us to stop. At least, that is what I suppose he means, as when we refuse to take any notice, he and two or three others come after us, and shaking their heads, oppose further progress. to my coolness—unkind people call it by another name—we had advanced into the main street of the fort or camp. One man explained by signs that we could not pass without an order from tbe Taotai. Then I produce a card with my name written thereon. “ Chit,” I say, point ing around in a lofty manner, as one who would intimate that this bit of pasteboard placed them and tbe fort entirely at our disposal. This staggered them ; they closely examine the card, consult together, and then agree that wo must go to the Mandarin, which is the only word I can make out. A few paces further, and the sergeant ushers us into a small cottage, of two rooms, the outer containing a hideous picture of some ancient warrior, and a plain table and chairs. The inner one is well furnished in the Chinese manner, and on a couch there a young man is sleeping. He jumps up at once on being aroused,but appears very seedy, and on two or three others entering the room subsides to sleep again, leaving us in their hands. A crowd is round us now, and an immense cllkttoriug goes

on. They evidently don’t know as to whether we should be beheaded at once or kicked out. Then a nice-featured young man, of higher rank evidently, pushes his way through. The card is handed to him ; he politely “ chinchins ” us, and motions us to be seated. Then we shake hands all around, and the conversation commences. I try our new friend, whom I christen “ the Major,” in a variety of tongues—English, French, German, Spanish, Welsh, and Fijian. He replies to everything in what I am willing to suppose is the •purest Mandarin Chinese. I point to the pasteboard, and intimate by sign language, to which we at last resort, that empowered by that we must see the Fort. He looks at it and seems puzzled. M. meanwhile is endeavoring to explain that we come from the colonies, and produces a recent number of the “ Australasian Sketcher " to show where wo belong to. This fetches them ! The officers crowd around to look at the cuts of tho Melbourne Exhibition, and the Major gives way. He intimates that ho will show us round, and politely leads mo on to the ramparts, followed by M. in the midst of the captains, lieutenants,'and ensigns, ail trying to find out somewhat respecting the illustrations of “ The Sketcher.” We mount the walls by steps; there is a broad path at top ; the ramparts are a man’s height. M., who, as a practical man, is a judge of these things, tells me the walls are IBft high and 50ft thick at their base. The work is excellently well done, and of a character which arouses his admiration. Sentry boxes of ' bamboos and mud are passed a® intervals. Formed in a square, the ramparts are in the corners pierced for artillery. Over the walls the surrounding country is dimly seen beyond the beds and moat. Outside are some higher earthworks for great guns a la Mount Yalerien. We walk all round the enclosure, which M. tells me is 20 acres in extent. All the way the Major and myself converse pleasantly and amicably, not knowing one word of what each other says. 1 hope he is interested. He knows, however, the English and French words of command, and shouldering my umbrella, I go through the exercise at his order, greatly to the admiration of his men below, who laugh and applaud. (The“ Vagabond.”)