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A yurt is the same shape as an Eskimos hut, round, but bigger and made of rough wool on wooden framework.
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In a magnificent yurt, coloured inside red and gold in the Palace of Prince Teh Wang, Prince of the West Sunnit, direct descendant of Genghis Khan and leader of the Free
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Sunday, July 14th, 1935 My Dearest Everybody, I have written my Sunday letters from lots of strange places — from a rubber plantation in Java, from Siam, from the ruins of Anghor, from a horrible Chinese Inn, - but this is the strangest of the lot. I am the guest of His Highness Prince Teh Wang, the greatest man among all the Mongols, whose forefather, Genghis Khan, formed the huge Mongol Empire which has reached to Hungary and nearly overran Europe and whose other forefather, Kublai Khan Dada used to read about in schoo1 (Coleridge). It has been the most colourful day I have ever had - a Mongol feast in honour of the spirit of the mountain, just near and I also had a good interview with Prince Teh Wang who wants to set up an Independent Mongol Empire, inc1uding the Mongols under Soviet rule in Outer Mongolia and the Mongol under Manchukuo. The splash of colour, with bright silks, gorgeous head-dress and fine horses, Mongol tents spirit worship and wrestlers, riders, lama and archers- has been magnificent. On Thursday, July 11th I got up at 5.30 am, breakfasted and went by rickshaw from the Legation quarter, Peking, to the station which is very close. There Baron von Plessen, who is the double of Tom Ellis, but a to few years older, was waiting for me. He had shorts and I had also bought shorts. He had a first c1ass compartment and soon the train steamed off. At the next station Dr. Herbert Müller. a friend of Wo1f [von Dewall] entered and we formed a trio. (Dr. Muller and I are left; the Baron had to return to Peking on Monday). Plessen and Müller are exact opposites. Plessen is tall, sensitive, nervous about catching trains and buses, exact, correct, speaking public school English: Müller is small, pleasantly cynical philosophical, does not worry about anything, jokes all the time as do all my German friends when we are almost bumped to pieces in going over a mound; he grins; if the 1orry nearly turns over on one side he roars; he never loses his good humour and is an excellent companion. Thus the train left Peking with the Three Musketeers, travelled towards the fine towering mountains about 20-30 miles to the North of Peking, and saw the Great Wall, or rather there are many walls which defended China against the Mongols. The Mongols have been slowly driven back for over 150 miles to the North of the previous frontier and all the villages we passed through were Chinese. Poor old Mongo1s! They have a hopeless position and have been 1osing their land to the Chinese. We went under the Great Wall in a tunnel, came out and saw a magnificent view, - a vast plain surrounded by blue mountains, which are full of iron ore and the Japanese wish to deve1op. At 3.30 in the afternoon (after 8½ hours) we came to a huge collection of mud house with some stone houses in the middle, surrounded by hills. It was Kalgan, the outpost for trade between Inner Mongolia and China. There, two magnificent cars were waiting for us. We were to be the guests of Mr. Purpis, a Latvian, the “King of Kalgan” who is the chief trader in Inner Mongolia and sells about 30,000 horses each year to the Chinese Army. 0ur chauffeur was the former chauffeur of the Panchen Lama, who with the Dalai Lama is the chief Lama of Tibet and Mongolia. He drove us through the dirty town to a kind of mud-wall fortress on the outskirts of the town. It was the Wostwag, the Company for Trading with the Mongols, a German firm We entered the courtyard, which was full of hides, tobacco, boxes of silks, wool; there were many lorries which go from Kalgan, access part of the Gobi Desert to Urga in (Soviet) Outer Mongolia. Mr. Purpis, a very live man, very strong and vigorous, in breeches and leather boots, came to we1come us. He gave us a wonderful dinner that night. We had a warning to beware of dogs which are said to leap at men’s throats if the men are afraid. (But I do not have the slightest trouble with Mongol dogs). Either they take a liking to me or they are terrified of me and slink away. They can tell at once that I have no fear of dogs). Our caravan (two cars and a lorry) was to start off next morning, at 4 o’clock, just about dawn. Plessen woke Muller and myself, (The Baron as just like an alarm clock) before 4 o’clock, we dressed, drank tea without milk or sugar; the effect of the sunrise over the hills was fine; our caravan rattled out of the fortress. The evening before a Chinese Foreign Office representative asked us to sign the following: “We, the undersigned herewith certify that we are going to visit Inner Mongolia on our own risk for any eventualities which may happen during our travelling. “We carefully considered all warnings of the local Chinese Officials who will take no responsibi1ities should anything happen to the undersigned.” Von Plessen Herbert Muller Gareth Jones. Kalgan 11th July, 1935 Next to me in my car was a tremendous Cossack; he had a head like a melon — only square, shaved bald; he was terrifically strong and fat; he had bandy legs from being so much in the saddle. We laughed and joked all the time. He was very much of a child. His name was Vishnevitch and after the Revolution he walked 800 mi1es in winter across Mongolia, from Urga to Kalgan! Then we left the town boundary, the day gradually, getting, lighter, we had to show our special visas for Chahar and Suiyuan (as the Inner Mongolia a province is called) while blue-uniformed soldiers formerly of General Sung stood there with fixed bayonets. And so we rattled along the tracks into Inner Mongolia. We left the last Chinese towns behind gradually cultivated fields disappeared; we entered the steppes and were in the real Mongolia by the afternoon. At 3 o’clock — after we had seen our first yurts and herds of camels and of cattle, we left the main Kalgan—Urga; road or track (see map and draw straight 1ine between Kalgan and Urga; Urga is of course Bolshevik) and came to Larsen’s Camp. (See Sven Hedin’s “Tents in Mongolia” Cardiff library). The scenery was similar to that around Hughesovka, dark green hills and rolling plains. Larsen is a Duke of Mongolia, a Swede formerly a missionary, who has become a great man in Mongolia. He lives in an old temple on the side of a hill, surrounded by yurts. The bread and butter there was wonderful; just like Breconshire or Cardiganshire but before I had eaten two or three pieces the shout came: “Caravan Forward!” and off we rattled towards the West, sometimes along a cart track sometimes over the steppe. We had not seen a single tree for 150 miles, i.e. Kalgan to Larsen’s Camp. About 4 o’clock we saw a grand sight - over 1000 horses on the plain; a few tents, dark blue, had been. It was Mr. Purpis’ Horse Camp. There we were to camp for the night. It was just like Wild West! A number of Mongol horsemen were there and a great performance began. Mr. Purpis was to choose the best 25 horses to bring to Kalgan. Mr. Larsen and he directed the Mongol horsemen to choose one out of the wild horses. The Mongol armed with a long whip which was also a lasso, would descend on the chosen horse, who would fly away. A great race would follow, the Mongol catching up the fugitive horse, throwing the whip-lasso round his neck and bringing him to a stop five or six Mongols on foot - very plucky would - on the horse being brought back — leap on the horse, hold him by the mane and tail. Then another Mongol would brand the wild horse with “p“ for Purpis. The supper - soup with big lump of mutton — cooked by the Russians. We ate it in wooden Mongol bowls. We then slept in tents. Up early next morning) Sat July 13 watched more horses caught by the Mongols. Then one car, with Plessen, Müller and myself left towards the palace of Prince The Wang. “This is puzzling said Plessen. “When one is invited for a weekend in England, one knows what to expect. But a weekend at the palace of a Mongolian prince! I just can’t picture what it is going to be what like.” After about 10 to 15 miles of rushing across the steppe, we went over a hill and in a hollow we saw two collections of strange buildings. The first was of grey stone with bright1y co1oured roofs in Chinese style and a number of yurts surrounding it. We saw a wall with pictures of big blue birds upon it. That is the palace of Prince Teh Wang. The other co1lection of buildings was a number of temples about 500 yards away, with their fantastic Chinese gables of dragon designs, rising above a series of mud houses. That was the of the residence of the Panchen Lama who, they say, cannot to back to Tibet because he is anti-British and of course we control Tibet. We drove towards the Prince’s palace, when about five soldiers with pigtails (all Mongols except Lamas, wear pigtails) rushed out with rif1es. One barred our way with his rifle and then grinned. He would not let us go to the Palace, but pointed to a building on the hill with yurts around it. (We 1earned later that only the Prince and his family could come down the straight way to the Palace and that ordinary mortals should come the side way, although we could leave by the princely way). The soldier (in blue grey ragged uniform) jumped on to our sideboard and directed us to the building and yurts in the hill. Here a number of Mongols in brilliant though dirty red and blue silks bowed to us and led us into a yurt where we sat bow-legged on Mongo1 carpets (about a yard square). They brought us Mongol tea with Mare’s milk in it (awful!). We sat there in silence for some time then wandered about the yurts. After about one hour and half word came that the Prince was ready to receive us. We went down the hill, entered a courtyard and saw the dazzlingly painted entrance with two green statues of 1ions (but Chinese lions with funny heads). Two soldiers stood with fixed gleaming bayonets. They saluted (presented rifles) as we passed and we entered another courtyard. Now to continue the narrative. For Photos click here We waited in a room in the palace (Sat.) until a big man in a dark blue silk, robe, with black silk skull-cap on which was a red button and having a very long pigtail, came in. He had a reddish face, rather cunning and looked about 45-5O. He was the Prince. His counsellor accompanied him, a dignified wrinkled man with strange headdress. We bowed and grinned. Mueller said we would like to sleep, in a yurt. The Prince bade servants take us and we went to a courtyard where there were three yurts. We were taken to the further one (a soldier with fixed bayonet guarded the second, because it contained the Prince’ seal). We entered the tiny door and found ourselves in a brilliantly coloured interior, all round the circular wall there were bright red shut boxes with golden designs of bats (sign of good luck). There were two big chairs opposite the door against the wall, but we were requested not to sit in them because they were for high lamas. Just near the door there was a red and gold open box full of dried horse manure. In the middle under the opening there was a space with a fireplace. On the left of the two lamas’ chairs was a Tibetan Buddhist altar with pictures. There was room for four of us to sleep on the floor. Plan of our yurt at palace. Yurt made of felt.
The Prince had 50 guests Chinese officials, British military attaches, Sir Charles Bell (High Commissioner for Tibet), and daughter, an American artist, some people from Peking Embassies, and mostly Mongol Princes and lamas) for Sunday was to be the greatest Mongol feast of the year, but there was not a single lavatory In the whole palace not even for the Prince. That night there was a great feast at the Palace 20 kinds of soup, and mare’s milk which is horrible. On Sunday morning I woke up to hear the Baron say, “Gentlemen, it is five o’clock!" He woke us up much too early. He dressed, breakfasted from our own supplies and before 7 we dashed off to a hill about 7 miles away, where the great feast was to be held. Dozens of blue tents had been put up, hundreds of Mongols in silks reds, blues, princes with peacock feathers in their hats, lamas in ye1low silks and also some In purple-red robes all the cream of this part of Inner Mongolia had come to pay respect to the spirit of the mountain. On top of the hill was a cairn of stones with a pole. (they call the piles of stones in sacred places here — obos). In front of the pile about 25 lamas in yellow silk and broad-brimmed hats (like Cardinals) were chanting Tibetan music. Then the Prince (now in red) came riding up the hill with horsemen following. He came and sat down in front of the lamas. They sang, shouted, threw rice. Then they all marched round the obo three times suddenly started hurling coarse flour at each other. They roared. They threw flour at the mass of stones, then bombarded each other. It was just like an old-fashioned slap-dash comedy where people throw cakes at each other. Round the obo were numbers of offerings meat, cheese cakes, etc. That religious ceremony over, we all descended the hill. Lambs (sheep) had been brought t be slaughtered and soon we were eating mutton with our fingers. Then came horse-races, with boy jockeys who had on their yellow shirts the Buddhist prayer wheel. After that there was archery for some hours. (A Japanese aeroplane arrived just about that time). Then the Prince summoned me to his presence and gave me an interview in his tent guarded by two pigtailed Mongol Soldiers He wants to have a great Mongol Empire, uniting the Mongols of Inner Mongolia with those under the Soviets and those under Manchukuo. The Prince who sat bow-legged in his tent had magnificent with heavy silks with beautiful dragon designs. After my interview the Embassy people (especially our attaché.) descended upon me to hear the Prince’s views. Then wrestling of Mongols for many hours. A lot of political talks went on at the same times because the future Mongolia is now in the balance. About 7 in the evening we returned tired to our yurt. After we had eaten, a Chinese diplomat, knowing that I had heard the Japanese point of view in Peking and the Mongol point of views came in to impress, upon me the Chinese point of view! Monday (July 15th) was a day of all days. It is four o’clock!” shouted the Baron just before dawn. Plessen had decided to go back to Peking because there was practically nobody at the German Embassy. Müller and his boy(servant) Liang aged 46), who was as superior with the Mongols as an English butler among Hottentots, Anatole, the Russian chauffeur, and I, decided to cross a big part of Inner Mongolia, almost as far a the Soviet- Manchukuo frontier, We said goodbye to Plessen and off we went at 5.30 in the morning, when the sun was shining over the palace and hundreds of swallows flying round it. Our destination was a lama's town sad temple called Beidzemiao where the second most important Living Buddha in Outer Mongolia was staying. It was uncharted land. No map contains the features the roads. The roads were terrible, Just ruts here and there. We were nearly bumped to the roof every other minute. The lorry-car nearly tumbled over. It was like being In a tank during the War. We went on for hours and hours. How we stuck it I don’t know and how the car still kept together I also don’ t know. We crossed the southern fringe of the GOBI DESERT. (Did you think a year ago that I would be crossing part of the Gobi Desert?) It was very sandy. We saw very few yurts. We came to some temples where we grinned at a Tibetan monk. Saw eagles, antelopes, etc. Midnight came. We seemed to have lost our way. Luckily it was the night of the full moon. ‘I’m afraid,” said Anatole, the Russian chauffeur. Are we anywhere near the Soviet frontier? If so, we’ll be shot.’ We had earlier been within 30.40 miles from Soviet Outer Mongolia, but now we were 100 miles. “We’ll have to camp out ‘ said Muller. We then passed the skeleton of a camel in the moonlight. “Killed by desert wolves,” said Mueller. All day long we had passed skeletons of cows sad horses killed by desert wolves. Lets go on,” said Anatole “We’ll come to Beidzemiao.” We rattled and bumped on. At 1.30 a.m. (after 21 hours travelling) we gave a shout. “HurrayI” A town of mud walls and with temples could be seen. We were all dead-beat. Now for a good rest, we thought. Suddenly we came to a river about 150 yards from the town. It looked like a ford. Our car splashed through and THEN, just as the front wheels had gone on the other bank, the back wheels stuck! The car could not go out. We tried until about 2.30 a.m., pushing, etc. No use. Anatole and I went into the town and shouted. No one came although a lot of dogs barked. We went to some Mongol yurts half a mile way. The Mongols just grunted from inside. We went further on. No help anywhere. At 3.45 a.m. we came back to the car and decided to stay in the car until dawn. I slept for nearly 2 hours and when I woke up I was bewildered. There were 2 camels tugging in front and a host of Mongols. No use. I got out of the car. We all pulled at ropes. We got oxen. No use at all. Then a lama in saloon coloured silk robes came down in a car(!) from the temple. About 8 o’clock we decided to go into the town, leave the car. We went to the Yemen which was occupied by Japanese who were most hospitable and charming. At 9 o’clock we were given a room by them and then after 29 hours I lay down on the floor in a room and slept! Now we are breaking camp. We shall say good-bye to Prince Otcheroff and off we got to the Living Buddha again) Sunday July 21st, 11o’clock Now the track of the Living Buddha - in a Mongol camp (3 yurts), We have been following the motor car track of the Living Buddha across the steppes but cannot find him. We followed his tracks 1ast night till dark and then pitched our tent near a spring about a mile from a Mongol camp of about yurts. Now we’re off again. I’m afraid we can’t find the Living Buddha, so we’ll make our way southwards. 6 o’clock. Hurray! We have tracked the Living Buddha 1ike Boys scouts from one camp to another. We are going to spend the night in the camp (7 yurts, about 20 camels) of the Prince of East Sunnit and we leave early to-morrow morning for Larsen’s Camp, the living Buddha is coming with us in his car. (Please show this letter to Mr.Davies. I think he’d have a good laugh out of it. Also to J.P ) 2 July 19th. Friday Ujumutchin 25 miles from Soviet Outer Mongolia and 35 - 40 miles from the Manchukuo border, in the wedge which Inner Mongolia drives N.E. This is a 1ama town, where the head Prince of the Sihingo1 League of Mongols has his residence. This has been the most exciting week I have ever had in my 1ife, packed with adventures and strange encounters. It has been so full that I have not had a chance of continuing my letters, because when one rattles along for about 20 hours a day in a lorry, over sand dunes and through rivers, and when one interviews Living Buddhas and Japanese agents and Buriat and Mongol princes, it is hard to find a minute to write beyond the notes of my journey and talks. Friday July 19th. In a Buriat (Mongol) camp on a hill, in a tent; wonderful views with great herds of cattle, horses and sheep in the distance; also as I write, a glimpse of blue hills which form the frontier of Manchukuo and Inner Mongolia. I did not have time to continue the letter this morning, because we decided to return westward and here we are back with the Buriats, who are very hospitable and clean. Soup with mutton is now being prepared by out Russian chauffeur. I have a1most forgotten what a bed is like and to sit around a table and not to eat with my fingers will be very funny. Saturday morning [sic]. It got too dark to write last night and it was bitterly cold, because Inner Mongolia is nearly 4000 feet higher than Snowdon. Prince Otcheroff, our Buriat host, has gone off to catch horses and we are waiting for him to come back before going to call on the Living Buddha (the second most important Living Buddha in Outer Mongolia). The Living Buddha has a motorcar and we shall travc1 together to visit some Mongol princes. So I shall now start the narrative. I am sitting on a box which is covered with a very bright Mongol small carpet. The nine yurts of the Buriat settlement and our tent and also the tent of some Russian traders (from Kalgan and Tientsin) are behind me. It is dark now and black clouds. If it rains we may be stuck here for days. The Prince of this part has returned and offered us a yurt. I’m very glad because the tent is cold. It is hot during the day here and very cold at night. So nos da. Tuesday. Came 150 miles yesterday, Monday, to Larsen’s Camp. We’ve just left Larsen’s Camp where we saw Charles Bell and our military attaché. We are stuck in the mud. We are going through bandit country to Dolonor. But they are very pleasant bandits and do not attack foreigners. Dr Müller knows the bandit leader quite well. We may call to see him.
After arriving in Beidzemiao where 1000 ignorant lamas live I slept nearly all day and all night. The place was a collection of mud houses with magnificent temples. Next day (Wednesday) the Living Buddha said he wanted to see me and give me n interview. So Dr. Müller and I went past the temples where the lamas were busy praying in yellow robes and came to a small temple dwelling where the Living Buddha was staying. He is the second most important Living, Buddha in Outer Mongolia, from which country he is an exile from the Bolsheviks. He is a reincarnation of Buddha. On way to Dolonor Tuesday 6.45. We were stuck in the mud for three hours; got stuck again later. Now we are lost in bandit country; very sandy; I don’t think there is any danger, because 35 bandits were seen on the road yesterday and they were driven off into the mountains. I’m afraid we‘ll have to camp out tonight. Dolonor is on the map. But the other places are not. Wed, morning, 7 o’clock. We drifted on wrong road into the mountains, lost way again, came down on tracks very deep and bumpy to the plain. We were just going to pitch camp near a well, when a Mongol rode up and invited us to stay in a yurt. We expected to be in Dolonor by this time. We are going towards the East In the hope of finding Dolonor. It is raining. We have run out of bread and biscuits, but we have plenty of tinned stuff. I hope we’ll get to Dolonor today. No bandits have come and they’re a pretty harmless lot here in any case and would not dare to attack foreigners, because the Japanese would be down upon them at once. The bandit leader whom Dr.M knows is in another part. Wed., July 24, 3.30. afternoon. We have been stuck in the mud for many hours and it has been pouring. I have no idea how we shall get out. We have been pushing and pulling and digging for hours. Perhaps we’ll have to wait until the land dries which might be a long time. No more bread or biscuits. We had hoped to have a Chinese meal at Dolonor last night. Peking seems a very long way indeed. There is a Mongol village a few miles away and we have sent there for men to push. Return to Narrative. I entered the reception room of the Living Buddha. It had a throne and place for about 14 people on bright coloured mats around the wall. The Living Buddha was a salmon coloured silk robe with a purse of gold. I 1iked him very much; he had a frank smile, white teeth, was a little ???? We were given Mongolian tea. Then the Living Buddha took some Mongolian butter (whitish) and stuck a lot in my cup of tea. He started speaking in Mongolian to his secretary who translated into Chinese, which Dr. Muller translated into German, which I wrote down in English. It is an appeal for help for refugees from Soviet Outer Mongolia. Later we motored on and here stuck in a river for 3 hours 20 minutes; and we arrived late at night at Ujumutchin, not far from the Soviet and Manchukuo frontier, where I started page 2 of this letter. We are given a room near the prince’s palace, slept well. Next morning we paid a visit to the Japanese representatives of the Kwantung Army who are very discouraged by the superstition of the people. We found a lot of the lamas very superstitious. I had seen a part of the temple with pictures of laughing skulls and of devils. I returned to photograph it but a lama rushed out terrified and barred the door. A soldier with a rifle came out to stop Dr.M. and me going into a house which was being built. I made a mistake. From the Living Buddha we went to a Buriat camp, where we had an interesting, time. The leader of the camp, a Buriat Mongol and some Russians staying at the camp started drinking vodka and there was nearly a fight. Then there were terrific flashes of lightening and our tents were on a hill -very exposed. There was good boiled milk and cream there. Wed.24 July. 5 o’clock. At last out of the mud after 5 hours here. 20 villagers came and tugged. There was a huge cloudburst here yesterday which brought torrents down; there are masses of hailstones; the biggest I’ve ever seen, some almost as big as marbles. 7 o'clock 5 minutes after I wrote that we got in the mud again and had a terrible time coming out. We are at last out after great efforts of the villagers. 8 o’clock In the most outlying Chinese village bordering on the Mongol lands in the most miserable mud hut I have ever seen — only furniture is a mat. People are very poor here. The cloudburst which has caused us so much trouble has wrecked their few crops. In the last 8 hours we have travelled 4 miles!! Just think of that when you speed on perfect roads in your Lanchester.[car] This village is quite different from the Mongol places. There are masses of children here in Mongol places almost none. We are 50 miles from Dolonor. We may have to wait until there is sun to dry the roads. When I get back to Peking I’m going to the Grand Hotel de Peking to have a really good dinner — although we’ve hid good tinned stuff. We have little food left, because we expected to get to Dolonor in about 6—7 hours; but we’ve already been 2 days. So we‘1l be hungry by the time we get to Dolonor. The people here have not much to eat. Yesterday we passed some mound just, about the region where Kublai Khan had his summer house. Dr.M. believes that the mounds are Zanadu. We went near the plaice where Marco Polo first came to Kublai Khan. This is a queer mud hut. We’ve already travelled over 1100 [sic] miles from Kalgan. Thursday, July 25th I left home exactly 9 months to-day and I shall be home in something over 3 months. Then it will be fine to have the usual dinner and invite Mr .Davies. We slept four in a row (Dr.M. self, Liang and a Mongol guide) on the floor in a very poor Chinese mud hovel - on a mat. The first part of the night the dogs howled everywhere and donkeys brayed. Dr. thinks there were bandits, but here bandits are just horse and cattle thieves and do not kill. Anatole who slept in the car, also had a bad time because all the village came to peep in at him. This part is exceedingly poor but the villagers are having the time of their life watching us. They came to see us get up. They believe that foreigners have webbed feet like ducks and they came to verify it while we were getting up this morning. The roads are very, bad after the rains but we are going to make an attempt to get through to Dolonor. I haven’t slept in a bed for a fortnight. We got eggs from the villagers and we solved the problem of bread by mixing eggs with flour and milk and making a kind of hard pancakes. A very narrow escape! We thought we would be for 4-5 days stuck in the village, because the roads were sipping after the cloud-burst. We had the help of 2O-30 villagers and what a relief! We got out of the valley to the drier hills. First sign of Manchukuo. Hurray, because it shows we are getting near Dolonor which is near the M. Frontier. The sign is an ox-wagon with a Japanese flag in front on the ox and a Manchukuo flag behind. It is beautifu1 country, skylarks singing everywhere and the meadows covered with wonderful flowers just like a field at home in June. There are deep blue larkspurs; butterflies; yellow; and red flowers, mountains around. What a contrast to the village we nearly stayed for many days in. We are exceedingly happy because we are out of the region where the cloudburst was. I really thought we were going to be there for nearly a week. We are now in the Mongol lands which have been colonized by the Chinese; the Mongols have been driven north and westward. Dr. M. has just come into the car with a bouquet of flowers. When I hear the larks and see the June-early July flowers I can almost imagine that I am coming home to strawberries and cream! A few days ago we saw a herd of over 1000 antelopes, the hill as brown with them. I write this letter while we stop for the engine to cool. Thursday July 25th 6 o’clock. Stuck in the mud again this afternoon, and now we are stuck again just near the river which we must cross. While we wait for the oxen and men, I write. It is a lovely evening. Dr.M has gone to talk with the villagers. In Mongolia he always wears cufflinks with the letters A.O.F.B. Ancient Order of Frothblowers. Today I saw a little Chinese girl with a dozen buttons on her dress of which she was very proud. On each button was printed “For Gentlemen” (Antole is now wading the river with wood to put under the wheels) Oxen are been tied to the car. Across the river a boy is waving a Manchukuo flag, although this is really China. 10 o’clock at night Hurrayl AT LAST DOLONOR! after a terrific journey across high hills in the dark. We are waiting in a rough inn for supper. In this room a man is boiling opium in a deep frying pan on a wood stove and is fanning the wood stove with a Chinese fan. There is a sickly smell of opium and in the next room there is an opium pipe and bed. The streets here are full of soldiers with fixed bayonets; we passed a geisha girl, showing that the Japanese had arrived. A Manchukuo soldier is in the opium room next door Friday morning July 26, What luck! There are great events here. The streets are full of Japanese and Manchukuo flags. The Japanese have decided to make this Chinese town and region a part of Manchukuo. The town has 15,000 soldiers here. Thousands of Japanese soldiers have assembled here and many have left on the road which we will travel along to-morrow. I am witnessing the change over of a big district from China to Manchukuo. There are barbed-wire entanglements outside the hotel. There are two roads to Kalgan where we go back. Over one 200 Japanese lorries have travelled; the other is infested by bad bandits.
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