Earthenware jars of oil were stacked round the room.

The basement opened to the street, and was packed in a moment.

"_Dzo! Dzo!_" (Go! go!) cried the master, and the throng hustled out, to be renewed in a minute by a fresh body of curious who had waited their turn.
Then we rode on, over a country as beautiful as a nobleman's park, to the town of Manyuen.

Every here and there by the roadside there are springs of fresh water, where travellers can slake their thirst.

Bamboo ladles are placed here by devotees, whose action will be counted unto them for righteousness, for "he that piously bestows a little water shall receive an ocean in return." And, where there are no springs, neat little bamboo stalls with shelves are built, and in the cool shelter pitchers of water and bamboo cups are placed, so that the thirsty may bless the unknown hand which gives him to drink.
Manyuen--or, to use the name by which it is better known to foreigners, Manwyne--is a large and straggling town overlooking the river-plain.