Reuben Hitchcock Morley

Letters of Reuben H. Morley written from Northern China

together with a brief statement of the

known facts concerning his disappearance.

INTRODUCTION

It is hoped that the facts herein stated may suggest lines of action or clues, which, on being followed up, will discover either the whereabouts of Mr. Morley, or will clear up the mystery of his fate, if the fears regarding him have been realized.

Any clue that may be discovered should be reported immediately to the nearest U. S. Consul. Subsequent letters with detailed information should be addressed to Mr. Morley's father Mr. George W. Morley [brother of Charles Henry Morley], Saginaw, Michigan, or to his brother Mr. John E. Morley, 1215 Williamson Bldg., Cleveland, Ohio.

This pamphlet has been compiled by an old friend of the family who is deeply impressed with the need of supplying all known details, as quickly as possible, to the U. S. Consuls, to the Missionaries, and to any other reliable persons in Northern China whose names and addresses can be learned.

It is a revised edition of a pamphlet that was issued on the 10th ultimo.

F. S. BIGLER.

Detroit. Michigan, February 24th, 1906.

STATEMENT

The following is a brief statement of the facts with respect to the disappearance of Reuben Hitchcock Morley, in northern China:

Mr. Morley left Pekin the first of June, 1905, with a caravan conducted by a German named Dohr, with the intent to travel north through Mongolia, for the purpose of reaching the Russian lines. The caravan, of some ninety odd camels, was a commercial venture on the part of the German, Dohr; the freight carried consisting chiefly of liquors and delicacies intended for the Russian army. Mr. Morley attached himself to the caravan merely as a means of getting north, where he proposed, if possible, to witness the military operations of the Russian-Japanese war.

Besides Reuben Morley, a Frenchman named LeVerger, -supposed to be an Ex-Lieutenant of Cavalry, accompanied the expedition, presumably for the like purpose, of reaching the Russian Army. Nothing was known here of this Frenchman, except such brief points as could be gathered from casual references to him found in Mr. Morley's letters home.

The party started from the Hotel Du Nord, where Morley had evidently been stopping. The expedition got as far as Dolon-Nor, a large trading town two or three hundred miles north of Pekin, about june 21st, where it was delayed on account of difficulties in getting ox-carts with which to continue the journey across the Mongolian desert.

Owing to the detention at Dolon-Nor (or Lama Mian, as Mr. Morley calls it in his letters, this being the Mongolian name) Morley and LeVerger decided to leave the caravan and travel southeast to Jehol, and from there possibly push north again into the eastern part of Mongolia by way of Pingtsuan. Accordingly, these two left Dolon-Nor about July 1^st.

On the journey north, Morley had lost some considerable amount of silver at the little village of "Fang Gang Shan," (or "Shang Gang Fang") and suspected the inkeeper's son of having stolen it. In the hope of recovering this loss, he procured a writ of some sort from the Magistrate or Mandarin at a town called Fung Ning Shen on the road from Donon-Nor to Jehol, and, armed with this process, and accompanied by two servants of the Mandarin, proceeded to Fang Gang Shan. LeVerger did not accompany him on this trip, but remained at Fung Ning Shen.

Morley remained some days in the vicinity of Fang Gang Shan, and appears to have been treated with respect and hospitality, but whether successful in recovering the stolen silver he does not state, leaving the further account of this trip and of the return to Fung Ning Shen, and of the journey thence to Jehol, for another letter. This letter was never written, or if written was never received.

He announced his safe arrival at Jehol, in company with LeVerger, under date of July 23rd, and described a meeting there with Mr. C. D. Jameson, said to be the owner of a gold mine in that vicinity. Jameson was about to leave for Pekin, and the letter was entrusted to him for mailing from that point. In another letter received about the same time, but probably written at subsequent date, (though the letter itself is undated), Mr. Morley writes that LeVerger had been forced to leave by the Chinese authorities, and explains that the Frenchman had become an object of suspicion, on account of his nationality, and because of his having no passport.

He tells of his having accompanied LeVerger a few miles on his way to Pekin to wish him good speed, and then states that his own passport had disappeared mysteriously from his saddlebags, and that he had just discovered another loss, the nature of which, however, he does not explain.

At the time of his writing, Mr. Morley himself evidently had no suspicions of his companion, but a cable to the bureau in Paris now elicits the information that the name of "LeVerger" does not appear on the French army lists, either as an active or retired officer.

These last letters from Mr. Morley were written about the latter part of July, and were sent south by messenger to Pekin, -or Tientsin, since which time his family have had no word.

Some time in November last, two drafts came to his Saginaw bankers, drawn upon his letters of credit; one from Shanghai, dated October 2nd, 1905, for 160 pounds - which amount balanced his first letter of credit; and the other from Colombo, on the island of Ceylon, dated October 19th, 1905, for 584 pounds, which sum, with the exception of a few pounds, balanced his second letter. The signatures on these two drafts, though resembling Mr. Morley's handwriting to a degree, were unusual, and, upon submission to experts, have been pronounced forgeries.

An investigation by the American Consuls at Shanghai and Colombo, made at the request of the State Department, develops the fact that the person cashing the drafts on Morley's letters of credit at those points had not been seen at either place previously and disappeared immediately on drawing the money. The description given of this person, as recalled by the bankers cashing the drafts, does not correspond to that of Mr. Morley. This person is described as being short, sturdy, of light complexion with darkish hair and a brisk manner. The fact of the forged drafts, coupled with the abrupt cessation of his previously frequent and regular correspondence, leads to the conclusion that he has met with foul play or other disaster in Northern China and that an impostor has been impersonating him in the cashing of drafts at Shanghai and Colombo.

Reuben Hitchcock Morley was a man twenty-nine years of age, but of appearance rather younger than that. He was of fair complexion and smooth face; of medium height; had high shoulders, and was of slight delicate build, weighing not more than 125 or 130 POUNDS. He had all his life been a sufferer from asthma, and at times breathed with a difficulty that would be apparent to the most casual observer.

United States Minister Rockhill cabled the State Department under date of February 4th, 1906, as follows:

"Latest information Morley was the statement of LeVerger to Jameson that he left Morley about September tenth near Jehol, the latter refusing to return to Tientsin, and intending to travel further in Mongolia. He has not a passport. Chinese government are making inquiries, but no further information yet."

CORRESPONDENCE.

WU-CHA-CHU-LO, June 13 - (Written at a Chinese farmhouse, where we have been rainbound these past two days.) -The weather is cold and rainy. A fire under our khung (a Chinese brick bed containing an oven) has been most acceptable. We arrived here on the 11th, en-route to Orrhan, which lies to the southwest of Lama Mian, or Dolon Nor. The camels had shed most of their hair during the first hot days in Pelsing, and so are now shivering with the cold and wet. Dohr did not intend to stop here, but the trail was slippery and an ascent just ahead of us, on which the camels slipped and fell. So here we had to stop, rainbound.

Now I am going to turn back and write you a sort of journal, telling a bit of each day's journey.

June 1, Peking - An overcast afternoon, streets muddy from the first rains. In the hotel compound stood two carts for the baggage of the three of us - Dohr, M. LeVerger and self - a blonde German, a neat little Frenchman (ex-lieutenant of cavalry) and an American, whose qualities and failings you know. The proprietor of the Hotel du Nord, and nearly all the guests (mostly Peking and Tientsin residents) were assembled to wish us luck and a safe journey. M. Juvet, the manager, opened champagne and all drunk a health. Then about 3 p.m. the carts pulled out, while I went to mail my letters. M. LeVerger had no horse, so rode in one of the carts. Dohr and I delayed a little, then mounted and rode to overtake the cart. We were covered with mud almost directly. Were directed to the wrong gate and so missed the carts. Dohr, who speaks Chinese readily, kept inquiring the way to Shaho from Chinamen we passed. He swore it was the cursed Jap influence prevalent in Peking which caused them to misdirect us. We rode hard, but by a roundabout way, and a little after sundown reached the dilapidated walls and gate of Shaho. Rode up to a Chinese inn, where we sat and waited for the carts which had not yet arrived. Shaho is about 50 li (15 to 16 miles) from Peking, but we had ridden a long way around. By 10 p.m. the carts not arriving, Dohr grew worried, as he had nearly 3,000 tls. in silver in his luggage as travel money. I felt sure we had far outridden the carts, for we had come at a good pace, and told him so. A bit after midnight M. LeVerger and the carts arrived. LeVerger had urged the drivers on when they wished to stop. Let me here observe that Dohr speaks but a few words of English, so my conversation with him is in German; very ragged German on my part. M. LeVerger speaks English with a Cockney accent, and the medium he and Dohr use for exchange of thought is French, which Dohr speaks tolerably well. Really, we are a cosmopolitan trio.

By 6 a.m. we were en route for Nankon, where Dorh's 96 camels, with their freight of liquors and delicacies, were awaiting him. The road was heavy with mud. We crossed one river spanned by a great stone bridge, but we did not use the bridge, as its approaches were out of repair. Passed one long caravan of camels en-route. Nankon came in sight. It lies in the gullet of a pass or opening, guarded on either hand by steep heights, crowned with ruinous watch towers. The town walls run straight up these heights. From the top of one ruined watch tower I ascended, one could toss a stone down onto the road away beneath. What labor expended hundreds of years ago to protect the inhabitants of these towns! To me seemingly useless labor, for these walls are of such extent that I cannot believe the towns and districts they defended could maintain a sufficient armed force to patrol, let alone, man them. At Nankon we put up at a Chinese inn and bathed in a nearby stream. Dohr has two servants with him. One, his mafer (horseboy), a tall, brown-faced, smiling fellow, always good-natured and willing. We call him Maferlao, i.e., Sir Groom. The other (called Chen) is an ex-Chinese officer, and was educated in a Chinese military school. He squeezes too unblushingly, but is a smart fellow, and necessary to Dohr in his arrangement for transportation and his dealings with officials. He is above a boy or servant in position, yet does most of our cooking and a certain amount of waiting on us. Dohr borrowed him from Herr Carius.

In Nankon we paid off the carts. My share of the cartage came to $2.25 Mexican ($1.25 U. S.) for the two days' hire. Would have sent off a letter from Nankon, but Chen could find no stamps or postoffice.

June 3 - Set out early before dawn, and soon overtook Dohr's caravan of camels. Our route lay through Nankon pass, over the great highway to Kalgan. The way was thronged with traffic - endless camel caravans, mule trains, pony trains, with now and again a horse litter or a stout cart, which humped about over the uneven track. In some of the litters highclass Chinamen and their women were traveling. Before such rode uniformed outriders. We passed one white man. He came swinging along on foot, while I was stooping to rearrange my saddle blanket and tighten my cinch. So he was past ere I could address him. His sikh servants, with pack mules, we came upon later, and were by them informed that their master was the British colonel from Peking. The press of travel grew ever denser as we entered more deeply the pass. Strange the dust and smell of the camels had no ill effect on me. Since leaving Peking, in fact, I have felt no ill effects to my wind apparatus, much to my surprise. Just how to account for it I do not know, unless it, be due to the first rains. The camels do not like the ponies, and one must ride circumspectly in passing them, not to throw them into confusion.

I wish I could picture to you the vast volume of traffic that streams through this Nankon pass, traffic had scarce room to pass each other. Nothing has so convinced me that China is a commercial and trading nation. Soon we began to pass under great arched gateways, which pierced walls that ran straight away up the steep sides of the pass. Then we rode between huge upright square stone posts, joined by a third stone laid across their tops. Here was the custom house. Another yawning gateway, and we were past the customs. 'About 11 a.m. we reached the great wall, which stretched to right and left, away over hilltops and valleys, wherever the eye could reach. I rode my pony up an incline which leads to the top of the wall, and there, near a dilapidated tower, gazed over the battlements at the camels streaming through the gate below. My camera, instead of being in my saddle bags, was packed on the camels. We kept on about five li beyond the great wall to Chandon, where we put up at an inn and bathed in a clean, cold brook. One of the inns here, as at Nankon, was still decorated, as it was in honor of Prince Leopold of Prussia, who passed over this route on his way to. Kalgan, Urka and Kiakhta, when he went north to join the Russian forces in Manchuria. Here we saw traveling Lamas, Thibetans, presumably, for none of them at least spoke Pekinese. This was our last point on the main highway. From here Dohr would strike north for Lama Mian, avoiding the main highway and its custom stations, where Jap influence might turn him back.

June 4 - We arose about 2:30 a.m., and were under way by 3:15, or thereabouts. The track we now followed was a narrow winding one, running through fields where the grain was already some six or more inches high. Down Peking way it was well up when we left. We were heading towards some distant mountains. This day I had my camera our and took pictures of the camels as they came lurching through the tumble-down gateway of one of the villages through which we passed. I rode well in advance, and before noon had entered Chushen. An innkeeper smilingly invited me to his inn, whither I was followed by a curious crowd. Presently the camels and my companions arrived. Here we halted for the day. I had not bargained on such short day marches, and so chafed and grumbled at thus halting with the better part of the day still before us. But the camels can only do so much per day and hold out. I had always pictured the camel as the "ship of the desert," who covered the ground with long, ungainly strides, and put a horse or mule to shame by his endurance and the length of his day's march. Well, his ungainly stride is there, all right, but it is a funeral stride and funeral pace that the camel maintains. His expression is one of constant pained surprise, and he howls mournfully when forced to kneel, and receive his load. These particular camels are most woefully ragged, their hair hanging in great bunches to their half-naked bodies.

At Chushen the folks thronged the inn gateway and court yard, eagerly curious to observe our every movement. M. LeVerger did not relish the interest he excited, and tried to shoo the gaping crowd away time after time. He found the easiest way to rid himself of the presence of a too curious Chinaman was to stare at the latter's feet; this seemed to cause their owner uneasiness, and so his early departure. This day was warm. We had covered about 55 li (about 18 miles). Heartrending slowness. I kept cursing myself for my stupidity in joining a camel caravan, but was disinclined to back out. To go north there is no other way (for one who cannot speak Chinese) than to attach himself to some party which has at least one man who can speak Chinese. The only other alternative is to obtain a boy who combines some knowledge of one's tongue with faithfulness, and who is not afraid to undertake the trip. I tried to obtain such a Chinaman in Peking, but failed. Perhaps had I been better acquainted there and known how to go about it I should have succeeded. Some Greeks went north from Peking shortly after my arrival in Tientsin, but I did not learn of this until after their departure. Perhaps even had I known I should have been fool enough to let them go without me, for at that time I was messing about for an answer from Colonel Ogorodnikoff.

Well, enough of this. It aggravates me even to write of it. For a well mounted man who weighs no more than I do, 36 miles day in and day out, exchanging one's pony when it was worn out, for a fresh one, would be no great matter.

June 5 - Rose at 3 a.m. and set out after a usual breakfast of boiled eggs and Chinese bread (flabby grey disks, twice as thick as Mexican tortillas). By 7 a.m. we were in the mountains. The scenery was really charming. In spite of the lack of timber or any growth other than grass. As yet I have seen absolutely no timber on the mountains. Only now and again a little patch of aspens, and as we are now at the beginning of the steppes, I expect we shall see none. At the top of a saddle or pass which our trail crossed was one of the inevitable vaulted gateways, and beside it the charred ruins of a temple, its gods scorched and half overset.

These camels cannot climb worth a picayune. The very ponies know little of what climbing is, and the trails are graded accordingly. My companions were surprised that I should ride my pony up a grade! I wonder what they would think of the trails in Luzon or Sonora or the Rockies? All trails we have struck so far have been excellent as regards grade, their only drawback being their stoniness. We crossed the Peiho river - it's a shallow stream up here in the mountains - the day was warm, my companions called it hot. Reached Yangshayausa after noon, a squalid little mountain village. I had been writing up to the last minute in Peking and my ink bottle stood on the table after I had packed, and so was stupidly forgotten. I awoke from a restless sleep on the khung at Yangshayausa, to hear one of the Chinamen say he was "Catolic," and Dohr, translating, told us that a French priest lived only 10 li away. To me a priest meant ink. But my companions poo-hooed this idea, saying he was a missionary priest, who undoubtedly lived just like a Chinaman and wrote his letters in Chinese with Chinese brush and stick ink (these latter I possess, but cannot use to advantage yet). It proved that they were right, but nevertheless my ride to Hantschong resulted in my obtaining the ingredients for the ink with which I am now writing. Saddled up and rode to Hantschong, which I found was a considerable little town, with high walls and gate towers. Very prettily situated, too, right at the base of the sheerest granite cliffs I have yet seen. My guide came up with me and showed me the priest's house. As usual, I was surrounded with a crowd. The priest, it seemed, was not at home, or else did not care to put in an appearance. But his retainers, or servants, saw to my entertainment, and the women gave me tea, while the most intelligent fellow brought me a purple powder (of which I made this ink), and would receive no reimbursement for same. The priest evidently lived exactly like a Chinaman. The only European article I saw in his house was an umbrella, and European umbrellas the Chinese also use.

'Twas this day, or the next, that we saw panniers of coal being packed down on ponies' backs.

June 6 - Rose at 3 a.m. Our trail led up winding valleys. By 1 p.m. we rode under the gateway of Lungmon. Here under the vault of the gateway hung a little cage containing the shoes of the last popular mandarin to be relieved. Such is Chinese custom. When a mandarin who has been popular with the town folk is relieved, a pair of his shoes are hung up in the town gateway. Again we were the center of interest for a curious crowd. Our quarters were rather cramped, although this place is a considerable little town. Here I overhauled and repaired my saddle gear. A troop of actors were giving a play on a stage erected in the principal street, and thither I strolled, and took a seat well in the rear of the audience. My presence seemed to distract considerable attention from the stage, but evidently the actors bore me no ill will on this account, for after the play was over they invited me up on the stage to take tea. Dohr seems to think I am somewhat of a judge of ponies, besides being a horse doctor? I try not to undeceive him. He kept calling on me to aid him in selecting a pony that afternoon and evening in Lumgon. The one he rode out of Peking he had bought without removing its saddle cloth, and so acquired a beast with a sore back, a fine, strong animal, though. By the use of my carbolic soap the pony's back is about healed. My mount is the best of the lot, so far, strong and with considerable ginger in him. I gave about $42 U.S. currency for him. Dear, of course, but the price of ponies has risen enormously since the Japs and Russians have been buying for their armies. Dohr paid $40 gold for his. LeVerger bought a little mare in Yang-sha-yausa, and has done nothing but nurse her all the trip since then. We covered 75 li on the 6^th.

June 7 - Did not get away until 7 a.m., as part of the caravan had fallen behind, and Dohr wished to wait for them to come up. Rode through pretty mountain valleys. Away from any sign of habitation stood a little temple in a grove of great trees surrounded by a wall. Doubtless these trees would never have been left standing were it not that they stood on sacred ground. Big blue cranes made their nests in these trees, and Dohr and I each shot one, using my vest pocket carbine. Rain came on as we climbed to the top of another pass. Here was the boundary wall where some of Dohr's acquaintances had prophesied that he would be halted and turned back. We stopped to take tea in the little smoky toll house, and, to my surprise, Dohr gave our host over a tael in silver, instead of a few cash. He is always careful not to pay out a cent more than necessary, but I guess he was pleased at passing that stone heap contrary to his friends' predictions. The wall was nothing but a long heap of rough-angled stones, the merest apology for a wall, and no one there but the few indwellers of the toll house. We ended the day's march at a small village called Euchaning at 3 p.m. The camel inn where we put up composed a good part of the village. It rained that afternoon.

June 8 - Up and on the road before 4 a.m. Our trail led through a flat-bottomed and stony valley. 'Twas bitter cold there in the darkness. A remarkable echo nearly led me astray, for it reflected the sound of the distant camel bells of our caravan, so that one would think their mellow cling-clang came from under the cliffs across the valley, where another trail led up and out of the canon. The sun rose, but the cold did not abate, for a chill blast sucked down between the clifflike walls and chilled one to the bone. The camel men wrapped themselves in dirty quilted coats and plodded on, heads bent to the roaring wind. We covered only 40 li this day on account of stony trail. Halted early at a little camel inn, which must lie at a pretty fair altitude, for we surely passed a cold night; 4,400 feet is the guess I make at the altitude. This little place was called Ying-chung-go, I believe.

June 9 - I got into heavy underwear the night of the 8th. We rose at 2:30 a.m. and rode out into the numbing chill, which is greatest before dawn. Our way led through a series of valleys, where were scattered squalid villages. Dohr, like a true German (they are all more or less sentimental at heart) stopped to pick flowers. I dismounted to wait for him and crouched over a fire at which some fellows, who looked like Mongols, rather than Chinese, were cooking their breakfast. The grain hereabouts was just barely out of the ground. As we proceeded the mountains grew lower and the grass more green and juicy, so that our ponies were always wanting to stop and feed. Dohr, with a shot from my vest pocket carbine, brought a big red goose tumbling down from a rock tip the mountain side. Made 55 li and put tip at another camel inn. Dohr wanted to go hunting, so procured a beater, and we three set off, scrambling up the low mountains which walled in our valley. My companions were rather unaccustomed to scrambling, and soon left me and the beater to push on alone. But I saw no antelope, the game with view to which we had set out.

June 10 - The night of the 9th was a cold one. Set out long before dawn. Our way led up and over a ridge or low saddle. Either the juicy grass or the cold weather had put my pony into the best of spirits. Crossed the ridge and descended to the beginning of the steppes or plains. They don't show on the map. Here the villages were more numerous and better built. Herds of cattle were grazing, watched by men mounted on ragged ponies. Each herdsman carried a long pole with a lash attached to it. Induced my pony and LeVerger's mare to stand still long enough for me to bag a big red goose.

March of 60 li this day. From the day we joined the camels at Nan our slow, short marches have galled me without let up. I'd always heard of the swift, tireless strides of these brutes. Maybe they have that quality of stride in Africa, but not so here in north China. LeVerger says that when he, his father (a gentleman of 70 at that time) and his sister were traveling in Algeria, their camels made 100 kilometers per day for weeks on end.

When I rode up to a hot, dusty little camel inn on the afternoon of the 10th I found my companions in bad humor so took upon myself to play the cheerful one and pass the time of day with the innkeeper. Now, my Chinese vocabulary is very limited, so, as usual, I supplemented it with English. Mine host laid his inability to comprehend me to my speaking the Mongolian dialect! When he remarked on this to Dohr we all had a good laugh. Dohr heard that the principal man of the vicinity had a pony for sale, so we washed up and made a formal call on him. He lived in a village about 4 li away. We were received with plenty of formality, and entertained with tea and cakes, our host standing while we occupied the places of honor on the kung (bed). One of the old gentlemen's retainers - the sheriff, I dubbed him - quite took my eye. He had the bearing and swing of a thorough trooper and a frank, smiling face, more Mongolian than Chinese. The old gentleman wanted 300 tls. for his pony about seven times its value. We bade him adieu with a repetition of formalities and returned to our inn at Ta-tan. The night was cold. Such nights one enjoys the Chinese custom of having a flue or oven under one's bed to warm it.

June 11 - It rained during the night and we were late in starting. The inn yard was crowded with squatting camels, each with a piece of matting tied over him, and so looking like an assemblage of long matting covered packages. The poor brutes, having lost most of their hair in the first heat of Peking, were now trembling with cold. Rain poured heavily as we advanced on our way, and the ground became so slippery that at Wu-cha-chu-lo the camels could no longer keep their feet. I had ridden on in advance to a small village, where either an innkeeper or householder, an old gentleman in dirty purple, invited me in to tea. Dohr tried to get the caravan on to Our-han, but failed. Willy nilly we had to put up at Wu-cha-chu-lo, for the camels could no longer keep their feet on the clay slope. Here we were, rainbound, the 12th and 13th. The first morning it seemed rather enjoyable to be able to roll over and doze, instead of rising at 2:30 or 3 a.m., just when it is coldest and one feels most sleepy. 'Twas here I began this letter to you. From Our-han it was Dohr's idea to ride on himself to Lamamiao in advance of the caravan, and then square matters with the Chinese officials and engage the ox carts for the trip across the Mongolian desert, about 100 carts in all.

On the 14th the sun came out. We waited until 2 p.m. for our track to dry. Now, I suppose - no I won't either for I am not going to tell of the aggravating things in my letter to you. 'Twas fine to be in the saddle again. I left the road and rode from hill to hill along the saddles which joined them. Saw deer away below me in the plains, then directly, too, a few hundred yards away. I was carrying Dohr's long German military rifle and dismounted to take a shot, but on my dismounting the deer ran. Later I took a shot at them while running, and some long range shots at the head, but missed. All three of us, in fact, were out after deer that afternoon but I was the only one well mounted, and armed with Dohr's rifle to boot. Really, I ought to have gotten one of those deer. Reached Ourhan, a considerable village, at dusk on 14^th. Dohr's Chinese agents came up and Dohr held a long confab with them by candle light in our crowded little room. I learn now first that he thinks to strike straight north from Lama-Mian, parallel to the mountains that bound inner Mongolia on the east. That is, he wants to keep to the west of this range, instead of striking northeast front Lama-Mian along the regular caravan track to Tsitsikar (or Zizikar). This makes the route still longer. He fears being stopped by the Japs on the regular route, but it seems to me that he need not fear on that score, as a wide strip of desert separates the northern or summer caravan route from the Manchurian boundary. If we go by the way he intends Lord knows when we shall arrive. His proposed route will bring us out somewhere near Chailas on the trans-Siberian railway. Perhaps, however, he will not be able to engage carts to take him straight north, and will be forced to go by one of the usual and direct routes. LeVerger tells me that before he left Peking the Russian charge d'affairs admitted to him that the Japs had entered Jehol. This latter is a big place in the mountains a little northeast of Peking and southeast of where we are now. I heard that the Japs were in Jehol, but did not credit it. Struck me as too flagrant a breach of neutrality. They'll be occupying Peking next.

June 15th - In the morning Dohr set out to go on in advance to Lama Mian. He took Chen with him. He left the caravan in charge of self and LeVerger, asking me to regulate the days' marchs so as to arrive in Lama Mian under cover of darkness, or just before dawn, so that the size of his caravan may not become general talk. He fears that otherwise the folk in Lama Mian will raise the price of cart hire beyond all measure. As Orrhan is a town of the steppes, there was no camel fodder (straw) obtainable there so all day of the 15th the camels were put out to graze. So it is from Orrhan on. It was 9 p.m. and dusk ere the caravan began to pile out of the inn gate, camel after camel to the number of ninety odd. Marched all the rest of the night until about four o'clock in the morning, when we halted at a camel inn. I had dozed a bit as I rode along. Not a very good plan, however, dozing in a saddle while riding with a caravan. For here it is the camels which are afraid of horses, not usually horses afraid of camels, as I remember you told me was the case in California (or was it British Columbia?) Dohr's last acquisition in the line of a pony is an exception to this rule. So when I fell to taking cat naps in the saddle, my mount sidled up among the camels and I awoke through being nearly knocked out of my saddle by the pack of frightened camels which were straddling all over the slope. The camel inn we put tip at was a poor one, therefore the good folk took more pains to make us comfortable. When I drew rein, surrounded by the usual assortment of growling, teeth-showing dogs, one man made haste to chain the brutes up and two opened up one of the mud-roofed, mudwalled buildings and began carrying out bundles of beef skins and fell to sweeping up the camel and horse dung which was spread on the khang (to dry for fuel I suppose). They made such a dust that I yelled to them to stop. I was minded to sleep outside, but it was pretty cold, and I have grown rather reckless from such continued immunity to asthma. Well, I did feel the effects of that dust a bit, but only temporarily, for an hour. It seems to me the same amount of dust on other occasions has laid me up for a day or two. Saw to the picketing of my pony and was taking another snooze when three Mongolians rode up, one at least was a soldier. They had two deer lashed behind their saddles. Fine, hardy looking horsemen they were, who rode and bore their arms like men brought up to it. One had a 44 calibre Winchester carbine the second a modern military carbine, and the third a long match lock. Some strolling jugglers got out their properties and gave a performance, of which I took several photos. The background was the rolling hill country, the foreground a jumble of camel packs, carts, etc.

By nine that evening (the 16th) we were en-route again. The way was now a real road along which strings of pony carts toiled, their bells announcing their approach from afar. Five carts to each driver. The latter sat on the leading cart and the pony of each succeeding cart was fastened by a halter to the rear of the preceding cart. (A rather poorlyworded explanation.) The moonlight was beautiful arid the night less chilly than the previous one (that of the 15th). Everywhere stretched the boundless steppes broken by low rolling hills. Riding on in advance I would dismount and with Dohr's dog Carlo for a pillow, lie down for a short snooze, while my pony grazed beside me. The sun rose and still the caravan plodded on. Well, I was right pleased to see the camels cover some ground for once, and was loath to call halt, though LeVerger thought it time to do so, since we had made far more than the pre-arranged 55 li. However, by 7 a.m. I felt we must be drawing near Lama Mian (Dolon Nor in Mongolian).

A ranch was just ahead on the steppes, and here I called a halt. An old Mongolian woman, bowed with years, but kindly and hospitable, appeared. I lifted my hat to her and "chin-chined" (a mixture of western with eastern courtesy.) She assigned us quarters in one of the four buildings within her walls. Here for the first time I saw two of the round felt

roofed Mongolian houses, and here LeVerger had an opportunity to drown himself in milk. The old lady's household consisted of more Chinese than Mongolian, in fact all the men. Awoke from my nap on our clay khang to find a storm threatening, so hastened to rout out the camel men, and get mats lashed over the packs. While superintending this, up rode the first Mongolian 'cow girl" I had yet seen, flung herself off her mount with the agility of a Colorado cow puncher, and whip in hand strode to the door like a man. Broad-faced, squat and bow-legged as one who had ridden since infancy. She was a striking contrast to the Chinese women I have seen hitherto. As usual, we were objects of general curiosity, but no more so than in Chushin away to the south.

By midnight on the 17th we had the caravan ready to start. As the camels knelt, groaning and wailing to receive their packs, LeVerger remarked that the poor brutes were complaining for the last time. A pony train was ahead of us. Our way led across marshy ground to a distant white streak, which for several hours I knew not how to explain, or account for. However, as we approached this closer it resolved itself into huge and winding sand dunes. These we skirted, and about 3:30 arrived before a jumble of buildings - more like a huge overgrown village, rather than the walled Chinese towns we have seen up to date. This was Lama Mian, or Dolon Nor, the great trading place. We had to wait until 4 o'clock before the town gates were opened, for gates there were, although the walls were low and hardly recognizable. Dohr had instructed the chief camel man to have the great camel bells removed on entering the town, so that the caravan would not unduly attract the attention of the early risers. A great squat jumble of mud-walled houses composes Lama Mian, muddy streets with great ditches either side of some of them, which smelt of the tanneries. Dohr met us at the inn he had selected for us. He seemed well pleased that the caravan had arrived all right. He had been busy interviewing two Mandarins, and trying to arrange for the hire of carts. In this matter of carts he has not been successful so far. Two German officers were about to leave as we arrived, and when I learned of this I hastened to finish a nearly-completed letter, intending to add just a few lines to this one to you, and send it along as it was, without attempting to account for the last few days, but the officers pulled out ere I had done so. So I caught up the hastily finished letter, saddled my pony and rode hard through muddy and devious streets to overtake them. I feel somewhat guilty that I did not tear these pages out, as they were and thrust them into an envelope. However, this leaves by post tomorrow night for Peking.

Yesterday afternoon the Mandarin who ranks second here called - returning Dohr's call of the previous day. He was a kindly, courteous old gentleman, dignified but simple - a soldier, a colonel. Dohr broke into his cases and took out champagne with which to entertain him. We were all three quite taken with the old gentleman. He is far more favorably disposed to foreigners than the ranking Mandarin here, so Dohr thinks. This latter Mandarin I called on today and presented my passport, asking him to furnish me with a copy in Mongolian, as the Mongols do not read Chinese. I found him a shrewd looking and polite Chinaman, very cleanly about his hands and nails, which is unusual. He may be somewhat anti-foreign for all I know, but he did not allow this sentiment to become apparent in my case. He was prompt in receiving me and attentive. This being such an important trading place, the chief Mandarin (while of lower rank than those in such places as Jehol and Kalgan) makes a good fat pile from the squeezes that come his way.

This morning at the horse market I saw two white men. The shirt or blouse which one of them wore outside his trousers marked its wearer as a Russian. Russian spies, or horse dealers, according to Dohr. Dohr and LeVerger avoided speaking to them, but to me it seemed a slur on our color to see white men out in "this neck o' the woods" and not pass the time of day with them. (I hate the infernal suspiciousness that seems to reign throughout North China among Europeans.) So I opened up with "Sprechen sie Deutsch," to which the bigger replied "No," and gave me to understand that they were Russians (Ruski). He then asked if I were French and on my replying American, they both seemed quite surprised. Americans aren't over plentiful up this way.

We rode out of the city and across the steppes to the nearby Lama temples, but did not succeed in going through them as they were not open at that hour. Tonight we entertain the elder Mandarin, the military one, with a true Chinese dinner. A rich but tedious repast I expect, for which Dohr will have to set up about 10 or more taels ($7.00 gold). I tell you the Chinese live well; if only they could learn to be more cleanly they would be a most admirable people.

As to the matter of carts, Dohr is stuck here for the time being. The cart hire demanded is more than twice what he had bargained on paying.

June 21st - Entertained the old Mandarin last night. Lord knows how many courses were served. I lost all track of them: Shark's fin, bird nests and preserved eggs among them. The two former must be expensive here so far inland. The dinner was to my taste excellent, and thoroughly agreed with me. Evidently it did not so agree with the Mandarin, for he was sick today, and instead of Dohr's being able to transact any business with him, the Mandarin sent to Dohr for medicine, and Dohr referred the matter to me, since, for some unknown reason, I am supposed to be the medical man of the party, and am consulted from the camel drivers up.

Now, then, I must close this as the mail goes out tomorrow early. Two hundred cash pays for the carriage of a letter to Peking or Tientsin. No stamps to be had, so I am sending this to Mr. Edward C. Peters, of Poole, Landu & Co., Tientsin, (he and I were table acquaintances there, and I wrote you of him formerly), and shall beg him to mail it for me.

(Signed) REUBEN H. MIORLEY.

UNDATED LETTER.⁽¹⁾

As I did not mark the place I left off copying my letter to you, I will make a guess at it and begin where the Yamen messenger came to me shortly after our arrival in Fung Ning Shen.

That night came a servant in long coat and belt, sent by his master, the magistrate, or mandarin. I roused up, tousle-headed and half dressed from the kahn where I was dozing, and received his obeisance, a low bending of the body, one hand stretched down to touch the ground and sleeves drawn low over the finger tips.

Now came the tug of war, i.e., to manage without an interpreter. To travel without one is not difficult, but to transact business, or make formal calls on magistrates is a difficult matter. By use of my watch and the word "minka" (tomorrow) I made clear to the messenger that I would call on his master at 11 a.m. next day. These mandarins are not visible until nearly mid-day. China is a land of late hours for the leisure class.

Next morning I put on my only linen shirt and the last of two collars, borrowed a red necktie and a scarf pin from LeVerger, changed from boots into shoes and leggings, mounted my pony and attended by my soldiers rode to the Yamen.

The mandarin did not appear at once, but his son did shortly, and for a wonder he could say one or two English phrases. He understood, however, little or nothing of the English spoken to him. But he was a nice polite fellow and I quite took to him. Then his father appeared and I handed him my statement of my case written in Chinese.

Right here I see I've got to confess and own up what my business was, though I am heartily ashamed to do so. All my silver was stolen from my pack basket in Fang Gang Shan. In my letter to you from that place I called it Wu-Cha-Chu-lo, an error on my part. I was not aware of the theft until the next day in Orshan, after Dohr and his fellow Chen had pushed on to, Lama Mian. Dohr had entrusted me with seeing his caravan through to Lama Mian, and this, coupled with the fact that by his absence I was without any interpreter, prevented me from turning back at once to Fang Gang Shan to try to recover the silver from the inn keeper, whom I suspected of having stolen it. At that time all my Chinese consisted of "Lai la" (come on), which, aided by gestures and the name of the next stopping place, sufficed to put the caravan in motion. To stop the procession, I simply rode in front and barred the way. But to explain a theft was away beyond me. In the "Pearl of the Orient," in the good old days of the empire, one's six-shooter and angry tones would go far in explaining the case, but here in China this method would simply raise seven different kinds of hell. These people have a greater respect for their own queer and unjust legal processes than we at home for our just ones, as I will show later on.

Well, then, in Lama Mian, while waiting for Dohr to get his ox carts, I asked the mandarin for a search warrant for Fang Gang Shan, but he told me that this place lay just outside his jurisdiction, and that I must take my case to Fung Ning Shen. I urged him hard to give me any old sort of warrant, but he maintained that anything signed by him would not be received there. So it was, when I found myself go short of funds and Dohr's journey such a long one, that I came to Fung Ning Shen on my way to Jehol, armed with two letters, one a Chinese translation of my statement of the theft. 'Twas by good luck I obtained that. There chanced to be a Shanghai Chinaman in Lama Mian who spoke English, and through him the translation was made, after I had tried in vain by money offers to induce him to accompany me as interpreter. My offer was one-quarter the sum recovered, or, in case of failure to recover, $15 and his expenses, was not sufficient inducement to a man engaged in the purchase of several thousand dollars worth of ponies.

Now, to return to my call on the Fung Ning Shen magistrate or mandarin. The mandarin read my statement and tried a few questions on me, which, of course, I could not understand. I resorted to my dictionary, but Chinese is so different from other languages that a dictionary is only good for single words. To attempt to piece together the shortest phrase is out of the question. So the mandarin had to content himself with my translated statement. Through his son he explained that he thought it a true one. I thanked him for that. While I myself believed I was correct in my suspicion as to the guilty party, I saw plenty of holes in my case, due to the fact that my lack of interpreter, and too much reliance on Dohr, had prevented my gathering all the evidence I might have. The mandarin was as prompt as an American and offered to send two attendants with me the next day to Fang Gang Shan. (LeVerger could scarcely believe this when I told him.) Sure enough, next day, after all sorts of delays (due to inability to understand), his son presented to me two men, whom I understood to be his own servants. To one he gave a search warrant, or order for arrest - I could not be sure which it was at the time, but I had asked for a search warrant. Queer idea, that, of making sheriffs of one's servants!

LeVerger had kindly offered to accompany me, and we were to ride without more baggage than our saddle bags. We had had enough of slow traveling behind camels, and proposed to make this a flying trip. But we reckoned mistakenly. We were in China! The two Yamen servants were mounted - I'd insisted on that - but they each had an under-strapper on foot, and brought a third along for LeVerger and self.

On the morning of the second day out I explained to the older of the two Yamen servants that this boy lacked manners, and that I would have none of him. Gave him 250 cash (7-1/2c) and told him to clear out, but he followed on with us nevertheless. Lord knows how he has subsisted, for I would not take back my word, and so gave him nothing, except a few hundred cash to get his head shaved. Old Wang Nui, the chief Yamen servant is fat, and we had not ridden 30 li before he halted for rest and refreshments.

That night LeVerger said he foresaw another camel trip in this, and would I take it ill if he turned back to Fung Shen and awaited there my return. I told him he had been mightily obliging to come as far as he had. So we parted pleasantly at a poor little inn up in a mountain pass, and I rode on with my Chinamen. I swore to push them a bit, but no! At 5 p.m. next day they halted in Tako, where I began this letter to you. Following LeVerger's prescription, I smile and keep my temper in dealing with Chinamen. But that night in Tako, after being a drill ground and pasture for legions of bugs, my temper was worn thin. I'd set 3 a.m. as our starting hour. At 3 a.m. sharp I roused the Yamen servants in suave tones, but they went to sleep again. Then I cut loose with a volley of American profanity and fetched them up all standing. Yet LeVerger's prescription is the one to follow in nine cases out of ten.

We rode out sleepy and languid in a sultry dawn. That afternoon we rode between the frowning walls of Lama San. High upon the eastern wall is painted a saint, or Buddha, who resembles a Catholic saint, halo and all. That afternoon we halted at the most prettily located inn we have yet seen, built on a little knoll at the foot of a craggy mountain, walled like a miniature city, and embowered in trees. Among the many buildings in the enclosure was a smithy. The coolness of the higher altitude, the afternoon sunlight, the breeze stirring in the tree tops, and the call of birds, all combined to put me in good humor. One appreciates trees in China. They are so scarce. At a small inn where we halted the next noon, I occupied the inn keeper's room and investigated his long matchlock. These guns, of which we see many up here, have no regular stock to hold against the shoulder, but are held just as hand guns were when first invented. So little change in China!

* * * * *

From this inn began a long ascent to a pass, from the top of which one has a fine view of all the country - a series of mountain ranges and wide valleys, away to the south. From the top of the pass the descent was a slight one and led at once into that grassy steppe land, which I so like. The air had a new tange of healthful sweetness to it. Our ponies knew they were entering a horse's paradise. At the first water I found two red geese, and managed to bag them both with my pocket carbine. It tickles a Chinaman right down to the ground to see anything killed.

We rode on across the rolling grass land in the fading light, I trying to get my bearings, for I had passed through this same plateau before with Dohr's caravan. By dark we were in Tatan. The only inn had nothing but two general rooms, so I had to share a room with the inn keeper. It looked right clean for a Chinese inn, but, - oh, my! Fact is, I have been a happy hunting ground for bugs ever since Tako. The newcomers merely drive out the older residents. I've bathed and washed my clothes in boiling hot water, but I've only the clothes I stand in, so I cannot have them all washed at once. Result is that I cannot rid myself of my unwelcome guests. Yesterday, when the oldest Pai, or local squire, was urging me to leave next day, I explained to him that I could not stand the lice. The kindly old chap hunted out the word "apology" in my dictionary, and said I should sleep in a temple. So last night I moved into one of the rooms in this temple, and it is here I am writing to you tonight.

'Tis a fine temple, very clean, and decorated with wall paintings. The priest, or caretaker, lives just outside the real temple enclosure. The boy Kurr, the inn keeper, and others must have some odd notion about my sleeping here, for both last night and tonight they wanted to know would I really sleep here alone. And on each occasion, after escorting me with light, blankets and saddle bags to my room in the temple, they have left me with such solicitude as one would show toward the ghost story hero, who ventures to sleep in the haunted room. Perhaps they have a notion that the gods stir about o'nights. Or may be it is only the fact that Chinese are averse to sleeping alone, either in a house or in the open.

'Tis near mid July but the nights are right cold. Some way I failed to realize that the kahns (or kan or kang) on which I slept, were even at this date gently heated, until last night when I roused along about 3 a.m., unable to sleep for the cold. The Pairo's right hand man had enquired by signs whether I desired a fire under my kahn in the temple. Not realizing that it was this that kept the inn kahns comfortable I said no. Result, an uncomfortably cold night - cold and graybacks combined.

Last night I intended writing you, but instead I was drawn off into a hunt after graybacks, which lasted until a late hour. I mind me that you told me of how in California one had but to lay one's clothes and blankets on a good hustling ant hill, and let the ants hunt down and kill the game. No ant hills hereabout, that I have seen.

* * * * *

But to return to my arrival at Tatan, and the arrest of the inn keeper of Shang Gang Fang, for arrest him they did. I was afraid that the fellow would get word of our coming and go into hiding. So I arranged for a fairly early start from Tatan, so as to catch him unawares. But, dear heart! that would not have been good form in China. I was up betimes in spite of the late hour of my arrival that night, but we did not get away until near 5 a.m., for the two Yamen servants were busy togging themselves out in their best clothes, which, unknown to me, they had carried in their bedding, slung across their saddles. (A Chinaman rides on his bed and wardrobe.) Instead of riding to the inn of the suspected thief, we turned in at Laugang Shan, and called on the Paito, or head man there. Sun du Lhing showed the credentials and there was much kotowing and exchange of compliments and courtesies. Aye, and our arrival caused a real bustle among the chief men-not to apprehend the accused, or search his premises, but to prepare tea and get out their best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Man after man hustled into his best duds, as if he had just received a hurry-up invitation to a swell dinner, or the like. I was nearly swamped in tea when the dinner party finally took place. 'Twas an excellent dinner, although a bit early in the day (8:30 a.m.) I'd no idea so small and remote a place could put up such a feed.

Since dressing and feasting seemed to be the order of the day, I got my razor and soap and brush from my saddle bags and started to shave. I was just under way when the head Paito blew in, so I had to receive his bow, or kotow, with my face covered with lather. Then came another deluge of tea, and each Paito and man of standing kept offering me long stemmed pipes, which they first pulled at a few times to get the tobacco started. True, the jade mouth-piece was always wiped on the owner's sleeve before being presented, but that did not better matters so very much. The past three days, however, have trained me to make the usual polite protestation and then accept the offered pipe without a quiver. By this time I was oozing tea at every pore.

The father of the Inn keeper, a dirty, unkempt old gentleman, came in and was greeted with the usual ceremony. As soon as I could make out who he was, I explained to Wangnui that this was not the man I suspected. Little good that did, for an hour later I saw him with a chain around his neck. Then the son, the proper inn keeper, was brought in. I went to the inn and explained in dumb show where my baggage had been at the time I believed the theft was committed. The wife of the inn keeper came in all smiles and soft words, offered me tobacco and treated me and my attendants as if we were welcome guests. This made me squirm and wish that I had made no attempt to get back my stolen silver.

In fact, for the next two days I was treated as I never have been, hitherto, in China. Treated as if I were conferring a great favor on the neighborhood by coming to arrest one of their number. Heretofore, when with Dohr or LeVerger, or alone, I had been received like them, with a certain amount of toleration and curiosity, and considered a fit subject for overcharge and extortion.

But since arriving in Tatan my money had been of little use. I'm not allowed to pay for anything, even at the inn here I lived for over two days, board, lodging and grain for my pony, for 860 small cash, about 31c! Wherever I entered a house or room all rose, and there was a wiping off of pipe stems and pouring of tea, while the host escorted me to the seat of honor on the kahn. I do not understand it all, unless the whole neighborhood felt that they were involved in the theft of my money and so must try and make amends by courtesies. Really, I've no idea whether my silver has been recovered or not. It is vain to try to piece together words from my dictionary and ask Wangnui if the inn keeper has confessed to the theft, or if there is evidence other than I put forward to show he is the guilty person.

(Signed) REUBEN IT. MORLEY.

MAILED FROM JEHOL JULY 23rd.

Tako, July 8^th,

En route to Shangangfang.

My Dear Father - It is past time that I was writing you again, though I confess it comes hard to write when I cannot tell of anything accomplished or any goal reached, unless it is that I am picking up some little Chinese - all in the last few days - through sheer necessity.

While with Dohr it came easier to ask him to speak for one, so that LeVerger and I picked up no Chinese words to speak of. I was deterred, from making any proper attempt to learn by the common saying that it was a matter of months to acquire even a little. So I have no Chinese books with me other than a very good but cheap dictionary. Lucky I have that, for otherwise I would be in a bad fix. Nearly everywhere there are Chinamen who can read, and by pointing to the Chinese characters used to represent the desired English word, I manage to get over some tight places. For the past ten days I have been compiling a pocket vocabulary of my own - faulty of course.

Now I must explain how LeVerger and I came to part with Dohr at Lama Mian. 'Twas this way: Dohr was many days negotiating for the ox carts needed to transport his cargo. He went about it through the old military mandarin Chen, a kindly old gentleman of whom I have written before. Of course the mandarin will take his squeeze, that is customary, but to counterbalance this he borrowed in his own name several thousand tls and advanced this sum to aid Dohr in purchasing oxen and carts instead of hiring them. Things go slowly in China, and this business transaction consumed days and days.

'Tis now 9:15 p.m., and I am going to turn in, for I want to get my party started by 3 o'clock to-morrow morning, this means rising at 2 a.m. My attendants shirked me to-day. I rose before 4 a.m. and had them started by five, but the weather was warm here in the low valleys, and the rascals halted at 5 p.m. this afternoon at this place, Tako, obviously because they have friends here. I say my party - it consists of the two head servants of the elder son of the mandarin of Fungning, Loa Jen Fu is the young man's name. Said servants have three understrappers on foot, along with them. I wanted only mounted men so as to cover ground quickly, but Lord love us! we are in China where they do things in their own way. Anyhow, the senior servant, or courier, is too old and heavy to ride at more than a foot pace.

LeVerger and I parted this morning, he returning to Fungingshen. Our slow pace discouraged him and he said it was the camels over again. He bore their slowness more patiently than I. Good-night.

Tako, 1:20 a.m., July 9^th.

I wrote above that I was going to turn in. I did so but the bugs turned me out at mid-night. Since then I have been rubbing myself with joho (sam shin or native spirits) and trying to take another nap. But as soon as I blow out the light I become a parade ground for legions of bugs.

Well, I've. only a bit over half an hour to wait before relieving my feelings by arousing my attendants, who will growl and say uncomplimentary things in Chinese, no doubt.

But I was going to tell you how LeVerger and I came to be traveling south together to Fungningshen. Well, Dohr found finally that he would be ten days. more procuring his ox-carts -- we'd already been waiting nearly ten days in Lama Mian for him to start. He told us that the ox carts could not make over 45 li per day on an average across the Mongolian desert. This meant near 60 days from Lama Mian to Js Tsi Ka. The war might well be finished by then. LeVerger and I had cursed enough at the short marches made with camels but the ox carts would be much slower. So we decided to bid Dohr good-bye and come east to Jehol, which rumor had it was lively with Jap spies and General Ma's troops. LeVerger tried to tell us that the Japs were really occupying Jehol and quoted the Russian charge d'affaires as his authority.

But this is not credible.

Had it not been for the matter of funds, I would have made a week's journey north into the Mongolian desert but the truth is I am very short of silver (tls) - bank notes and drafts which I have are not exchangeable up this way. Shows how conservative the Chinese are. The Peking Chinese bank have correspondents in Lama Mian, and yet one cannot exchange Peking bank notes for any reasonable figure. The Mandarin Chen did manage to have some exchanged for me, forced them on his friends -- imagine. But these latter would only take 100, and even consumed a week in agreeing to this. Dohr offered to lend me what tls he could spare en route, if I went on with him, but he was figuring pretty close himself in the way of funds for a 60-day journey.

Throughout Mongolia there are apparently no real towns or even large villages and flour and meal is used instead of iron, cash or small bits of silver. Dohr took a cart load of meal as money. Dohr could not have loaned me enough silver to purchase a new mount in event of mine playing out. But what mainly influenced LeVerger and me to give up the trip with Dohr was the fear that in 60 days the war would be over or a truce declared. In that case our journey would be fruitless.

I've thought all along that at Jehol one would not be so far from the side lines of the war. From the very first I wished to try entering Manchuria by going to the east of Jehol, but the Peking and Tientsin people whom I talked with dissuaded me by saying it was a sheer impossibility to get through that way.

Well now, I am going to find out.

So much that is talked of in Peking and Tientsin proves to be mere wind. The presence of hunghutsus (brigands) on our route from Lama Mian north was a myth, and poohooed by the mandarin of Lama Mian, otherwise, short of funds or not, I would not have abandoned Dohr. He himself told me that he was now convinced that there was no danger from them. So we parted on friendly terms. On my part with regret, for I liked Dohr's company and liked what little I had seen of the Mongos (Mongolians). The Mongolian border with its steppes, sand dunes, herds of cattle and frankfaced horsemen, quite won my fancy. Then, too, 'twas a country where I need never fear asthma, even when riding. In the lowlands (while thus far I have been free from asthma) I cannot help fearing that when the crops ripen and the heat is at its height, I may have a return of the bane. But business is business, and I did not set out merely for a pleasure trip through Mongolia, interesting as that would be.

When I push north from Jehol 'twill be into the eastern part of Mongolia. From its lower altitude I surmise that it is not as interesting a country. The maps, however, leave it nearly blank, so perhaps it is largely unknown, which fact should make it interesting.

Before I tell of our trip south to Fungningshen en route to Jehol, I want to say a little about the Mongolians as I saw them. Remember I was just over the border and no more, by the maps not even that far, but the folk consider Lama Mian in Mongolia. They are correct, no doubt, for in proof of their assertion, that land even to some 200 li south of Lama Mian is untitled and used for grazing only. It appears that by treaty, or the like, no land in the Mongol country shall be tilled. The Mongos (Mongols) are nomads, as you know. Their dwellings are small, round huts of felt and hides, which can be taken down and transported from place to place on ox carts. I passed trains of these ox carts loaded with the parts of huts. At first I wondered why each cart seemed to be carrying a spare wheel of an odd design, but after winning safely through an outpost of snarling dogs and being invited to enter a hut, I discovered that what I had taken for spare wheels were the smoke holes of the Mongolian huts. I rather surmise that the Mongols are a religious folk, since the Chamba lama has his camp up in their country.

LeVerger says that the Mandarin Chen in Lama Mian told Dohr that the Peking government had issued orders that no more than two animals were to be sold to any one foreigner.

I tell you it was mighty fine to see an American again, or any white man, for that matter, but an American above all. When he said "Where are you all going?" I was tickled away down to the ground.

The flies are so dreadful that I can scarcely write. The cocks are crowing, so I must hasten to bring this to an end. Had we known of Mr. Jameson's presence here before this evening you should have had a complete letter.

At Pingtsuan, General Ma has his headquarters. There are English missionaries there, too, he says. He thinks we may not be allowed to go on northeast far from Pingtsuan. Well, if the war is over, I don't much care to, unless it be to get a look at the Hunghut-sus.

We are our own mafus or grooms. I have done most of the attending to our two mounts, feeding, grooming, etc., and yet only one slight hint of asthma. 'Tis most remarkable. Only plenty of attention and feed keeps our ponies in shape for travel. Mine has been on the go for nearly forty days. Some ten days ago he started to get a sore back, but this I prevented by rubbing it with native spirits at every halt. I mind me of your telling me of how you rode a sore-backed horse and healed his back at the same time. I do not claim to have done as well as that, for my pony's back was just beginning to be sore.

Now then, love, luck and health to you. I've lots to say and many questions to ask, but I must close this if I wish to get it off.

Your affectionate son,

(Signed) REUBEN H. MORLEY.

LAST LETTER.

The following is an extract from a letter received about the same time as the preceding letter:

Dateless, Placeless.

Dear Cousin:

Two or three strokes of bad luck in succession, and right on top of the news that our dwaddling after these wretched camels has left us here still in Chili, with the war, so 'tis said, practically ended. I am in too ill humor to write you news.

LeVerger has gone to Peking. You might say he was run out of town, except that this would be putting it too strong and unfairly. No passport and a Frenchman to boot. He was an object of suspicion in this pro-Jap burg, so he was nagged at by Yamen runners until he up and left. He rode out in style, and I escorted him as far as Lwanping (31 Li), and then turned back here alone. (Whisper) My passport disappeared mysteriously from my saddle bags, and I am trying to recover. If the Yamen thinks it can induce me to leave or run me out before I have made a thorough try and exhausted every wile, the Yamen is mistaken. Today, I discovered another loss - not such a little one either; 'twould have gotten you something pretty if converted into the coin of the realm. Anyway, I am too grouchy to write you news, except to say that LeVerger and I plan to meet again as soon as may be ............ LeVerger is to inquire for mail for me in Peking, so, maybe, I've a treat in store.

(Signed)

REUBEN H. MORLEY.

By Lonely Lake Morley Was Struck Down;

Brother Visits Spot.

Body May Have Been Buried By Shifting Sands

- No Trace of Le Verger's Victim to be Found;

George W. Morley, Jr., Home From China.

After journeying half way around the world in a search for his brother, who had disappeared in the interior of China, George Walter Morley, Jr., traced the trail to an abrupt end on the banks of a little salt lake some 500 miles north of Jehol, the ancient capital of the empire. The lake lies in a land of barren, rolling sandhills, bearing no vegetation but a coarse grass growing to a height of perhaps eight inches. Here, in as gloomy and barren spot as could be found, it seems evident that Reuben Hitchcock Morley met his death at the hands of his companion, Le Verger.

After a fruitless effort to get through the interior of China to the scene of the Russo- Japanese war he had started back, disheartened, toward Peking again, but had been momentarily lured from the way by his companion. How the crime was committed will never be known, but it was evidently done in cold blood. It seems reasonable to suppose that Le Verger had turned back from Peking and pursued Morley into the interior, with the express purpose of doing away with him. He may have shot him as they two gazed out over the little lake, or he may have clubbed him from behind.

The crime may even have had witnesses, for the country is not deserted entirely. Only a few Mongolians inhabit the district, however, and they would never tell the story if they knew it, of the immediate cause of Reuben Morley's death.

Perhaps the body was in turn plundered by them; perhaps it lay undiscovered. At any rate it is almost certain that here, beneath the shifting sands, it found its grave. No trace of body or grave remained to be located by the searching brother.

After a most vigorously prosecuted search in the interior of China, with the object of explaining the mysterious disappearance of his brother, Reuben Hitchcock Morley, George Walter Morley, jr., returned to the city yesterday morning, having positively settled all doubts as to the fate of his unfortunate brother.

Although he traveled more than 500 miles beyond Jehol into the interior of China, through a most difficult country for traveling, going the entire journey from Peking by Chinese ponies, the entire time spent in the interior was but 37 days, and he was gone from this country altogether more than four months. The search was pressed with a vigor and despatch entirely foreign to Chinese traditions, and resulted in a definite conclusion. The case of Reuben's disappearance has been proven to be simply a cold blooded murder, committed in a strange land by one white man or another, which remained undiscovered so long only because of unity of the Chinese empire.

The result of the search proves as has been already announced as the most probable theory, that Morley came to his death at the hands of Le Verger, his French companion, on the morning of Sept. 3, 1905.

Morley's Story of the Trip.

The account of Reuben Morley's trip up to that point and the work of tracing carried on by his brother is extremely interesting. In speaking of his trip last evening Mr. Morley said:

"I had no difficulty in tracing the movements of my brother as the appearance of a stranger in the localities traversed was enough of a rarity so that he received considerable notice. Consequently the movements of my brother were known to everybody there. I found the Chinese very communicative also, and willing to tell everything they knew. If we had had to deal with Chinese alone we might have learned even more than we did.

"At Jehol I learned that Reuben had been seen far in the interior, and up to that point his movements could be traced. At the same time I learned that Le Verger had been seen at Hata, a point considerably nearer and to the east, at a later date. It seemed reasonable to suppose that on the return trip Le Verger had also stopped at Paku, which lies nearly east of Jehol. Accordingly we set out for that point first.

Five in the Party.

"There were five In the party, Dohr, myself and three Chinese 'boys.' We also had two pack carts with us to carry our stuff. We were mounted on Chinese ponies. The Chinese ride with very short stirrups, having their knees way up. They also throw their blankets, etc., over the saddles, which are very small and ride on them which gives a soft seat. We rode European style, however. The Chinese always do things by contraries; their last name comes first and they even turn out to the left on the roads, instead of the, right.

"At Paku we learned that Le Verger had not been there. From Hata he had taken a direct road to Jehol. We accordingly made for Hata, which we reached in a short time. Here we found traces of Le Verger and came upon the real trail. Here also we found that Le Verger had came come from Wu-Tung-Cheng, a point some distance farther north. The country had changed considerably. From Jehol on it bad been extremely mountainous. It now became sandy, however, and the country was gently rolling. The hills became smaller and the sand was everywhere. From Hata on to Wu-Tung-Cheng we rode through a continuous sand storm every day of the 14 days' trip, and it was one of the most depressing and unpleasant rides I have ever taken.

Found Reuben's Servant.

"At Hata I had learned of the home of Reuben's old 'boy' and sent to him, at Toung-Kia-Ying-Tsi instructing him to meet me at the Catholic Mission at Mao-Schen-Tung, where I had previously learned that my brother had stopped. By the time I met him there I had the place of Reuben's final disappearance narrowed down to the space between the mission and Wu-Tung Cheng. The 'boy' was able to throw light on the mysterious points of the case, however, and we now have a fairly complete account of Reuben's movements.

He had already been traced as far as Jehol. This is an extremely interesting city, and he remained here for 20 clays. From here he went to La-Hu-Kon, 70 li west of Jehol, where there is a Catholic mission. From here he went north again, 500 li (167 miles), to Toung-Kai-Ying-Tsi, the home of his 'boy.' Here also, there is a Catholic mission. Somewhere between these missions he was joined by Le Verger, who had been to Peking since Reuben wrote his last letter home. The two men then proceeded on north again to Mao-Schen-Tung, where there is another mission, in charge of Fr. Van Eggen. Here they stayed four days. Leaving, they headed northwest for King-Peng, intending to head from there south to Peking. Two days out, however, they changed their minds and laid new plans, returning to the mission meanwhile.

Was on His Way Home.

"According to the new plan they were to separate soon. Instead of bearing west they now turned east and looped around south again. My brother was to go to Kin-Tche-Fou, there striking the railroad for Tien-Tsin, quite evidently planning to return to civilization. Le Verger was to proceed with him as far as Wu-Tung-Chen, branching off from there and striking south, and a little westerly to Peking. Le Verger had already sent his donkey and donkey boy, with all his effects to Hata.

"The first day from Mao-Shen-Tung they traveled about 100 li and stopped for the night at a little inn at Tschang-Feng. Early the next morning they started out for Wu-Teng Cheng. It was not yet daylight, on Sept. 3, 1905, when they started. They had proceeded about 25 li when a little lake was seen. The country there is entirely sand, gently undulating. Le Verger called attention to it and the two men decided to ride over to see it. Leaving the main road, my brother sent on his boy to San-Chi-Lia, ordering him to wait there until their arrival. This was about 6 o'clock in the morning. The boy waited there until 2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon and then, becoming alarmed, proceeded to Wu Tung Cheng. About 5 o'clock LeVerger arrived alone with my brother's horse. He also carried my brother's rifle. Questioned by the boy, he stated that Reuben had sold them to him and had gone on in the other direction.

Le Verger Was Nervous.

"They stopped there over night. Le Verger had a light burning all the time and spent the night examining books and papers, many of which he burned. These could not have been his own as he had sent on everything to Hata.

"About 2 o'clock in the morning, he aroused the boy, and gave orders to proceed. It was still dark of course. Outside the city wall he gave the boy a blanket and my brother's field glasses and told him to wait for him, proceeding with his own horse and my brother's pack horse. The boy soon returned to the city, however. Evidently as soon as he got out a little way he cut the pack horse with the whip and let it run, for it was afterward found running with the wild horses.

Scene at the Lake.

"We went to the lake to see if any possible traces of my brother could be found. It is a salt lake, used by the natives for securing salt, and perhaps a mile broad by a mile and a halt long. There are a few little huts on one side of the lake inhabited by Mongolians, but from these people we could learn nothing. The lake is surrounded by barren sand hills, and the whole country is rolling. There is little vegetation. A course, sparse grass, something like a prairie grass, growing on the sand to a height of eight or ten inches. The sand is continually shifting, driven around by the winds. It is as barren and depressing a spot as one could find.

"But no trace was to be found of Reuben Morley. We hunted over the sand in vain. The Mongolians must have known something concerning him but it was impossible to learn anything from them. This whole district, down as far as the great wall, was formerly controlled by the Mongolians. The Chinese overcame them, however, but did not drive them entirely out of the section. Consequently there is no harmony between the Chinese and the Mongolians, and a white man is equally helpless as regards learning anything from them.

Abandoned the Search.

"We were forced to abandon the search there, as it was evident we could learn nothing more by remaining. There, is still a chance of finding some further facts, however. I have posted a reward of 100 taels (about $70) at Peking and in hopes of securing this Reuben's old "boy" Yang Chung Ho, has returned to that country to live, and he will make his home with the people there in hopes of learning more. Of course what would seem like a moderate reward here is a princely fortune to the Chinese. Everything is cheap there. Our average expenses for the entire outfit, five men, horses, etc., amounted to only about 45 cents a day".

Mr. Morley is amply supplied with documents and photographs to prove the various points of the matter. A copy of the statement as to the results of his trip has been furnished the Chinese government and another is in the hands of the United States government.

Mr. Morley met with no difficulties or incivilities on his trip at the hands of the Chinese. It was necessary at nearly every town to show his passports and go through the usual formalities with the officials. The people themselves showed no hostility to the, Americans. What antagonism there is, Mr. Morley stated, is confined to the large cities, where the monopolizing of the best things by foreigners gives some excuse for ill-feeling.

No time was wasted on the trip to and from China. As soon as his mission had been performed, Walter Morley took the earliest boat for this country. He arrived at San Francisco Tuesday and was met even outside the quarantine, by a delegation of some half dozen newspaper men, including an Associated Press representative, anxious for news of his quest which attracted national attention. Mrs. Morley was at San Francisco to meet him and the two took the first train for Chicago. They arrived in the city yesterday morning at 1:15 o'clock over the Grand Trunk.

Mr. Morley has brought back many curiosities and mementoes of the trip with him, in addition to his extensive collection of photographs.

1. This letter was sent from Jehol, in the latter part of July and was postmarked 1, Shanghai, August 11 It was written after the following letter was mailed from Jehol (July 23rd, See page 19). However, it is here given before that letter, because it relates events that occurred before July 23rd It takes up the story from Fung Ning Shen, at which place Moley and LeVerger Verger arrived July 4th. (See page ?)