ABSTRACT
WHEN we first visited Yuts’un, we entered the south gate of the village, following a path to the north. Both sides of the street were lined with dilapidated huts. Some of them were partly demolished; some of them still bore traces of fire, with charred wood and beams lying in the corners; and still others were roofless and deserted. We felt distressed, walking through these gloomy streets of a village which seemed to be struggling in the shadow of misfortunes. Presently, however, we came to a well-built house with whitewashed walls—an impressive sight in these surroundings. Our guide led us into this house and introduced us to a well-dressed middle-aged gentleman, who courteously invited us to come and be seated in the central hall and ordered tea to be served to us at once. This house became our lodging place. Our host showed us over his house and pointed out a room which we might occupy. This room, on the second floor in the left wing, was a storage-room in which beans and other produce were being stored; but it was clean and light, with big windows on the court and with room for two beds. Our host apologized for not moving out his harvested crops. But when we had opened our bedrolls and our host had brought us a light, in the form of a glass kerosene lamp, we felt more comfortable and happy than we had felt at any time during our last few years of field work in the villages.
