The charm of travel in China is the unexpected. In Europe all is cut and dried. “Dresden; see the picture gallery. Admire the Madonna di San Sisto.” “Munich: gallery again! Hotel des Quatre Saisons; excellent!” In all probability you have even heard beforehand of the quality of the rolls, and which is the desirable table for breakfast. As far as surprise goes you might almost as well be supplied by the accustomed baker, seated at your own fireside. Now in China it is all the other way. There is no guide-book. You never know when you may arrive, and so far is this carried that you rarely know where a head wind may delay your boat, necessitating tying up for the night in some noisy, carousing village; or a favourable wind carry you before sunset to the quiet haven under a projecting cliff where you desired to be, in time to take a walk and discover a beautiful old temple, now crumbling to decay but commanding one of the world's beautiful views and with quaint carvings on its gateways and stone lions guarding them, their heads on one side, and irresistibly mirth-provoking. In land travel it is the same.