Roy Chapman Andrews,
Camps and Trails in China
(1918)
“ The glorious days in our beloved East are gone, and yet, to us, the Orient seems not far away, for the miles of land and water can be traversed in a thought. Again we stand before our tent with the fragrant breath of the pines about us, watching the glistening peaks of the Snow Mountain turn purple and gold in the setting sun; again, we feel the mystic spell of the jungle, or hear the low, sweet tones of a gibbon's call. We have only to shut our eyes to bring back a picture of the bleak barriers of the Forbidden Land or the sunlit streets of a Burma village. ”
