Page 167 - Three Score Years & Ten
P. 167
“THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN” MISSIONARY WORK IN CHINA
Amy Moore
animals had to scramble to get up. We girls often got out and walked, especially when we saw a turn
in the road coming up and knew one mule would be round the corner with the other on this side and
our litter swinging over the drop below. I felt much safer on my own two feet. Miss Haslam could not
get up and down easily with her lame leg and suffered a great deal from cramp as she sat all day, so
when we reached the next Mission station at Fengxiang, she hired a sedan chair for herself and we
three shared the two litters. At one stage, one of our mules carrying luggage slipped and fell to the
river below and was too badly injured to be rescued. That delayed us while the men climbed down,
brought up the luggage, and hired another mule to carry it.
That night was our first experience of sleeping in a Chinese inn. ‘Sleeping’ is not quite the right word
as we spent most of the night catching bedbugs which must have made their home in the straw that
was our main mattress. For some unknown reason nobody had told us how to make our beds when
we came to an inn, but we learned our lesson that night and never forgot it. The trick was to throw
the oil sheet in which our bedding was wrapped, right over the bed first, then put our own bedding on
top after liberally sprinkling right round the edges of the oil sheet with insect powder. Not having done
this, we had left an open walk in for every bedbug to enjoy a feast, and they did! It seemed to me that
I spent the night literally killing hundreds of the creatures which showed up very plainly on my nice
clean white sheet. We arrived at Fengxiang the next night where Miss Thompson and Miss Blair did
their best to spoil us after the hardships of the road, and sent us on with baskets of food to enjoy as a
change from the constant diet of Chinese rice. From there on we were in Chinese inns until we
reached Hanzhong. I described some of them in my letters home. “This room is in a much more
dilapidated condition than the last one we were in. The roof looks as if it might fall in on us at any
moment. The walls are full of cracks, maybe for ventilation, the door is wide open and doesn’t look as
if it will shut and, at the present moment there are three children standing at the door watching
everything we do. Another is gazing in through the crack between the two boards that act as a
window, and incidentally blocking out all the light I had. Dirt abounds on every hand and a nice big
black pig is grunting sweetly on the doorstep. Probably we have turned him out of his home for the
night. Bertha has just announced a rat! Sounds as if we may be in for a lively night!”
Arthur Moore with two
other missionaries
(possibly Jack Beck on
right) travelling by mule
train through the Qin
Ling mountains from
Fengxiang to Hanzhong
in 1932, the same track
taken by Amy in the
same year
The mountains seemed to get more beautiful as we went on. The Qin Ling rises to 11,000 feet and,
as we went higher, some of the high peaks were still snow capped from the winter snow. Peak after
peak with their snowy caps rose up one behind the other as far as we could see, while down below in
the valley, the river made sweet music over the pebbles and rocks. All around us was luxuriant green
167
Amy Moore
animals had to scramble to get up. We girls often got out and walked, especially when we saw a turn
in the road coming up and knew one mule would be round the corner with the other on this side and
our litter swinging over the drop below. I felt much safer on my own two feet. Miss Haslam could not
get up and down easily with her lame leg and suffered a great deal from cramp as she sat all day, so
when we reached the next Mission station at Fengxiang, she hired a sedan chair for herself and we
three shared the two litters. At one stage, one of our mules carrying luggage slipped and fell to the
river below and was too badly injured to be rescued. That delayed us while the men climbed down,
brought up the luggage, and hired another mule to carry it.
That night was our first experience of sleeping in a Chinese inn. ‘Sleeping’ is not quite the right word
as we spent most of the night catching bedbugs which must have made their home in the straw that
was our main mattress. For some unknown reason nobody had told us how to make our beds when
we came to an inn, but we learned our lesson that night and never forgot it. The trick was to throw
the oil sheet in which our bedding was wrapped, right over the bed first, then put our own bedding on
top after liberally sprinkling right round the edges of the oil sheet with insect powder. Not having done
this, we had left an open walk in for every bedbug to enjoy a feast, and they did! It seemed to me that
I spent the night literally killing hundreds of the creatures which showed up very plainly on my nice
clean white sheet. We arrived at Fengxiang the next night where Miss Thompson and Miss Blair did
their best to spoil us after the hardships of the road, and sent us on with baskets of food to enjoy as a
change from the constant diet of Chinese rice. From there on we were in Chinese inns until we
reached Hanzhong. I described some of them in my letters home. “This room is in a much more
dilapidated condition than the last one we were in. The roof looks as if it might fall in on us at any
moment. The walls are full of cracks, maybe for ventilation, the door is wide open and doesn’t look as
if it will shut and, at the present moment there are three children standing at the door watching
everything we do. Another is gazing in through the crack between the two boards that act as a
window, and incidentally blocking out all the light I had. Dirt abounds on every hand and a nice big
black pig is grunting sweetly on the doorstep. Probably we have turned him out of his home for the
night. Bertha has just announced a rat! Sounds as if we may be in for a lively night!”
Arthur Moore with two
other missionaries
(possibly Jack Beck on
right) travelling by mule
train through the Qin
Ling mountains from
Fengxiang to Hanzhong
in 1932, the same track
taken by Amy in the
same year
The mountains seemed to get more beautiful as we went on. The Qin Ling rises to 11,000 feet and,
as we went higher, some of the high peaks were still snow capped from the winter snow. Peak after
peak with their snowy caps rose up one behind the other as far as we could see, while down below in
the valley, the river made sweet music over the pebbles and rocks. All around us was luxuriant green
167
