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0374 The Pulse of Asia : vol.1
アジアの鼓動 : vol.1
The Pulse of Asia : vol.1 / 374 ページ(カラー画像)

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doi: 10.20676/00000233
引用形式選択: Chicago | APA | Harvard | IEEE

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among wisps of cloud. At their foot, broad, naked slopes of
gravel were broken by descending lines of little mounds, the
heaps of earth around the mouths of the wells by which the
"kariz," or underground canals are entered and cleaned.
Nearer at hand, the adobe walls of ruined forts or Buddhist
shrines stood white and clear in the bright sunshine; while
around them stretched a smooth yellow plain, where the
reeds were all dead and broken off even with the ground.
Nearest of all, four or five Chantos in sober snuff-colored
gowns, and two women in picturesque red jackets worn over
blue skirts reaching to the knee, were spreading manure on
gray fields. Two men plowed it under with wooden ox-
plows like those used from time immemorial all over Asia.
A Chinese merchant, clad in pale blue, walked across the
field toward the walled enclosure of the Chinese town; a
high covered cart set on a long axle between two big cogged
wheels lumbered by with one horse in the shafts and three
abreast in front, and as it creaked between the high mud
walls protecting precious orchards, the lolling driver en-
couraged his team with shouts of "Owa, owa, owa, Oh!"
and a wave of his fish-pole whip. Suddenly, not only the
distant scene, but the pale gray, almost dazzling prospect of
neighboring walls and fields, was swallowed up in dust. A
strong northwest wind had sprung up. Soon it increased
to a gale, and I had to leave the roof to dust and pattering
sand and two merrily rolling gourds. By sitting low on the
warm mud oven filling half my room, I could have procured
light enough for my work, if the room had not been dark-
ened by the heads behind the dozen or twenty Dungan eyes
glued to holes torn or sucked in the paper windows.