CHEUNG CHOW - LONG ISLAND
135
burned or sunbaked. There are many mean huts of wood and wattle, and except in the main street where the Public Works Department of Hong Kong has insisted on drainage and paving, the streets are full of wallows, and the wallows full of pigs. As often as not the sleeping pig is being carefully searched by a fowl or so.
Of the foreign buildings the most conspicuous are the Meeting Hall of the European residents situated in the midst of their rather scattered bungalows, and in the village, the red brick Police Station and the new School. All through Hong Kong the territory the Police Stations occupy the strategic positions, looking like a strange modern variant of the frowning castle which overhangs so many ancient settlements in Europe. And the analogy is not far-fetched, for there are raiding kidnappers and pirates to be repulsed, and Cheung Chow Police Station has itself been besieged, and successfully too, by pirates. The present building is surrounded by barbed wire, and garrisoned by Sikh police, and could stand siege long enough to enable it to summon a swift and powerful police launch by wireless from Hong Kong. The new school was opened only last year, and while the Police Station holds itself aloof on the ridge just outside the village, the school nestles more intimately among the good people, some of whose children pursue learning within those cheerful walls.
The Europeans are the Highlanders of Cheung Chow. Like the Hebrews in Canaan, they leave the plains to the original inhabitants and occupy patches of the bare hills. The Chinese use these little hills only to pasture a few tiny cattle, to supply fuel, and to afford a last resting place for their dead. Among the grass and the graves the missionaries have built small stone huts in the strangest of styles. Some are reminiscent of little Bethels and Bethesdas which drew their original inspiration from the stone barns where sectaries used to meet. Others are refuges among the great clusters of rocks, to which and between which they cling and clamber like the nests of some strange and gigantic insect. Amongst these there are some half-dozen more comfortable bungalows of permanent residents. All these Europeans live in amity with one another. There are British, Americans, and now and then some Germans. They elect a little committee and officers for their Association to deal with the Colonial Government, and with the Kaifong which governs the village. A tiny fund is expended with admirable results.
CHEUNG CHOW - LONG ISLAND
135
burned or sunbaked. There are many mean huts of wood and wattle, and except in the main street where the Public Works Department of Hong Kong has insisted on drainage and paving, the streets are full of wallows, and the wallows full of pigs. As often than not the sleeping pig is being carefully searched by a fowl or so.
Of the foreign buildings the most conspicuous are the Meeting Hall of the European residents situated in the midst of their rather scattered bungalows, and in the village, the red brick Police Station and the new School. All through Hongkong the territory the Police Stations occupy the strategic positions, looking like a strange mo- dern variant of the frowning castle which overhangs so many ancient settlements in Europe. And the analogy is not far fetched, for there are raiding kidnappers and pirates to be repulsed, and Cheung Chow Police Station has itself been besieged, and success- fully too, by pirates. The present building is surrounded by barbed wire, and garrisoned by Sikh police, and could stand siege long enough to enable it to summon a swift and powerful police launch by wireless from Hongkong. The new school was opened only last year, and while the Police Station holds itself aloof on the ridge just outside the village, the school nestles more intimately among the good people, some of whose children pursue learning within those cheerful walls.
The Europeans are the Highlanders of Cheung Chow. Like the Hebrews in Canaan, they leave the plains to the original inha- bitants and occupy patches of the bare hills. The Chinese use these little hills only to pasture a few tiny cattle, to supply fuel, and to afford a last resting place for their dead. Among the grass and the graves the missionaries have built small stone huts in the strangest of styles. Some are reminiscent of little Bethels and Bethesdas which drew their original inspiration from the stone barns where sectaries used to meet. Others are refuges among the great clusters of rocks, to which and between which they cling and clamber like the nests of some strange and gigantic insect. Amongst these there are some half dozen more comfortable bungalows of permanent residents. All these Europeans live in amity with one another. There are British, Americans, and now and then some Germans. They elect a little committee and officers for their Association to deal with the Colonial Government, and with the Kaifong which governs the village. A tiny fund is expended with admirable results
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