The village of Tak-wan-leo is at the summit; it is a village of some little importance and commands a noble view of mountain, valley, and river.

Its largest hong is the coffin-maker's, which is always filled with shells of the thickest timber that money can buy.
Stress is laid in China upon the necessity of a secure resting-place after death.

The filial affection of a son can do no more thoughtful act than present a coffin to his father, to prove to him how composedly he will lie after he is dead.

And nothing will a father in China show the stranger with more pride than the coffin-boards presented to him by his dutiful son.
Tak-wan-leo is the highest point on the road between Suifu and Chaotong.
For centuries it has been known to the Chinese as the highest point; how, then, with their defective appliances did they arrive at so accurate a determination?
Twenty li beyond the village the stage ends at the town of Tawantzu, where I had good quarters in the pavilion of an old temple.

The shrine was thick with the dust of years; the three gods were dishevelled and mutilated; no sheaves of joss sticks were smouldering on the altar.