malaria at certain seasons of the year, but it is doubtful whether even in this respect the valleys of western Yün-nan are as unhealthy as the valley of the Red river in the south.
The accommodation from the Salwin on to T'eng Yüeh—a two days' journey—is abominable, even judged by the standards of Yün-nan. The night is spent at a hovel a short distance up the mountain-range which rises on the west of the Shweli river, called Kan-lan-chan, which holds out no sufficient attraction even to a Yün-nan coolie to encourage him to hasten his jaded steps towards the end of a tiring march. Even the members of my escort, who had found an inexhaustible source of amusement during the previous days in snapping off percussion-caps with the hammers of their rusty muskets, lost heart and plodded silently and wearily up the steep ascent from the Shweli river. I asked them what kind of drill they were taught? "Oh," they replied, "we have no time to learn drill!" The motto emblazoned on their blouses was "fear established"—i.e., in the enemy. The muskets,
