I attended divine service at St. John's Cathedral on Sunday morning, and in the evening the delayed party arrived; I was so fortunate as to have two home friends among the number.

Monday began by a general tour of sight-seeing for the party; to a certain extent I thus went over the ground again, taking jinrikisha rides through a portion of the European native city, and visiting the entire French concession. French names were on the business houses and on many of the streets. This concession is governed by a municipality of its own.

Four restful days were passed at Shanghai, and at ten on the evening of May 12th, we went to our steamer, the Tuck-Wo, for a trip on the celebrated Yangtse River. The steamer was large and airy, with pleasant decks; everything wore a thoroughly homelike air. The scenery on the lower Yangtse is rather flat and disappointing, but in the morning there were some vegetation and many agreeable glimpses of life, with vistas of modest homes and little patches of cultivated ground around them. The shores were covered with tall vegetation which, we were told, grows quite tall and is then cut, dried, and used as fuel by the natives. At first, during our trip, there had been only a low fringe of trees in the distant background; now mountains appeared as a striking variation, and thus we had alternating scenes which added to the spatial interest from this time on. There were occasional picturesque points and promontories that jutted out into the sea; clustering around, were many large and smaller craft; once I counted thirty-six in one place.

The steamer anchored at Chang-wang-kong on the second evening, and we were permitted to go ashore for two hours. We had noticed a brilliantly lighted building, four stories high, every window gleaming and presenting an imposing appearance; we naturally expected some artistic effect in the interior, but, when we came to visit it, the illusion vanished, as the first and second stories were cut up into small rooms, each filled with Chinese folk intent upon securing their evening meal; adjacent rooms were devoted to the culinary operations. Dirt and confusion and odors permeated everywhere, and we declined to ascend to the upper story, where the Chinese game of fan-tan was in progress. Certain homelike English buildings clung near the water front, and we walked through the usual crowded Chinese streets. The town was laid out in one long thoroughfare, overlooking the water and sloping backward to the lesser mountains. We returned, content with the good cheer aboard our steamer, and were soon sailing on.



We passed Nanking, formerly the southern capital of China and once a place of great importance—indeed, a seat of learning and of art. Only the distant walls could be seen. A little north of Nanking are located two of the Ming tombs.

The following morning, at eleven, we were again permitted to land, this time at Wu-ho, quite a large town and evidently the centre for several industries. After wandering through a few native streets, we took jinrikishas and visited the heights above. Here was situated a fine garden filled with rose trees all in bloom, the property of the son of the noted statesman, Li Hung Chang. This was said to be one of his many palaces; at present he is Minister to England. The afternoon afforded us a variety of points of interest to seek out; long low islands, boldly defined mountains, an occasional village, and coves filled with shipping of all kinds, from the sampan to the five-sail junk. The shores were clothed with the wonderful green of Spring, which, to my mind, was excelled only by the matchless verdure of Java.

On the morning of May 15th we met with constant surprises; first, there was the boldly defined little Orphan Rock, the seat of a Buddhist monastery which contained, however, only a small retinue of monks. Two hours later, on the left side of the Yangtse River, there appeared for the first time a long avenue of trees near the water's edge, while beyond it was a range of mountains higher than we had seen. Nestling between two mountains which seemed to hug the water was a village with a remarkable wall stretching from one peak to the other, and curving down, thus encircling the town; this wall had a crenellated edge and was perfectly preserved.

The mountain range continued for some time, and then was succeeded by the more prevailing flat shore, which soon merged again into mountains. Perched high up on a projecting hill, another monastery gleamed white through the encircling trees. We sailed onward toward the right, and the Captain pointed out on our left the entrance to Lake Poyang, which shone in the distance, and rising boldly out of which could be dimly seen the greater Orphan Island, where towered a large pagoda said to be two hundred and fifty feet high. From now on, the scenery changed rapidly, and first one side of the shore and then the other side claimed our attention and admiration; the river being very wide, and the steamer also constantly changing its course, we were thus given a fine opportunity for observation.



Our next excitement occurred when we approached Kia-kiang. We first saw a high rocky promontory on which a tall seven-story pagoda stood, like a veritable sentinel; rounding the point, a long shore line was protected by a seawall which stretched to the extreme point of land where Kia-kiang is situated. Near the pagoda were homes and native buildings, then some business houses; farther back from the shore rose another towering pagoda, and farther still another, while a tiny temple was perched on an eminence. Embowered in trees, we also found the white homes of foreign residents, presumably English. There was a great deal of shipping in port which gave evidence of the city's being a business centre. Three hours' time was given us on land, but few availed themselves of the privilege because of a heavy rain. On leaving Kia-kiang a low shore was seen, then a long island, covered with homes of a simple kind, with their little gardens; every inch of ground was under cultivation. The shades of night soon shut off our view, but at 9 A.M. we were again anchored—this time at Wu-such. Only the gleaming lights in the distance were visible. Two more places were to be passed during the night, Wang-tu-kiang and Wen-chou; and Hankow was to confront us on the morrow.

The Yangtse River rises three thousand miles away, near Tibet, and covers the whole of the Empire; thus far we had traversed six hundred miles of it. Despite what we praised, however, we could not help longing to meet with the bolder scenery which a longer trip would have revealed to us. A heavy rain prevented much sight-seeing at Hankow on the first day, which was fortunately Sunday; thus we received our initial impressions of the city from the steamer, a view which took in a long Bund, fronting the water's edge, and filled with fine buildings, evidently of a European style of architecture; we were told that they were the different homes of the English, French, and German consulates, the French even having a special park attached to theirs. At the extreme left were large business houses and a club. Hankow is a great depository for tea, and, with the two adjacent cities of Han-yang and Wu-chang, it has an immense population, reaching into the millions. Many religious denominations are said to be represented in Hankow, but we saw no pretentious churches. The harbor or water-front has a stone embankment; a large amount of shipping is to be seen, many of the boats being of peculiar construction.



The following morning, we had a few hours in which to view the city before taking the train for Peking. We first visited the native quarter. The heavy rain of the previous day caused a great deal of mud, and as we attempted to drive through the narrow streets and bazars, the dirt floors of the little homes and shops were a sea of mud, while the inmates were preparing breakfast and attending to other domestic avocations in perfect unconcern; it was certainly not an inspiring scene, and the worst native quarter we had visited during our stay in China. We did not extend our observation very far, but turned to the more attractive Bund, which is about three miles in extent. Here we had a nearer view of the consulates, from each of which a street led down to the water's edge. In the French concession we noticed the same naming of streets and buildings that we had seen in Shanghai; this was also true of the German and English concessions, thus making of each a little miniature city. There is a fine English club at Hankow, and a long line of tea factories called godowns; the odor of tea was distinctly noticeable for three blocks. From May to the middle of July the tea industry of Hankow is great, and large numbers of dealers and speculators interested in the business congregate there.

We took the train at 11 A.M. for Peking, with every expectation of arriving there at 4 P.M.

* * * * *

PEKING, March 18th: The railway trip from Hankow to Peking is not interesting, for it is largely over a vast extent of plain without foliage or vegetation. Occasionally we passed small towns with a few planted trees. The latter part of the way seemed almost like a desert; there being little to observe, one had time to reflect, and, in some inscrutable manner, the immensity of China, its extreme age, its teeming population, and its unreality, judged by Western standards, began to dawn on me. I had previously failed to realize that I was actually in China. Having seen the Chinese at several points before reaching Hong-Kong, that city with its English environment did not impress me greatly. Canton seemed an unrelated place, a kind of a by-play. The Shanghai I knew was modern.

As we approached Peking, we caught a glimpse of the Great Wall, a massive gray bulk, with the immense corner tower, which produced a feeling of awe, standing as though it were an entrance into a city of mystery—a walled town of over twenty miles in circumference which was virtually the product of four walled cities in one. We were housed in the new and spacious Grand Hotel des Wagons-lits. Our stay was to cover just a little over a week; hence vigorous sight-seeing was at once inaugurated, and the first impression received was the great age of everything that surrounded us.



Peking was made the capital of the whole Empire by Mongol Kublai Khan, the Wise, a munificent ruler who laid the foundation plan of what we see to-day; but the origin of the city dates back some centuries before the Christian era. The Ming Dynasty extended over nearly three centuries; then China, being threatened by an invasion of the Manchus from the north, was aided in her resistance by the Manchus at home, and, through a peculiar combination, they secured possession of the throne and have held it ever since. The foreign rule is hated by the true Chinese.

The four sections of Peking are: (1) The Forbidden City, called the Purple City by the Chinese because formerly only purple mortar was used. It consists virtually of a palace and adjacent buildings, and embraces a population of nearly six thousand. This portion of the city has for ages been closed to foreigners, with the exception of a few months immediately after the Boxer trouble in 1900, when excursions to the Forbidden City were made, photographs secured, and also a small guide-book prepared. (2) The Imperial City surrounds the Forbidden City, and is now in great part closed. (3) The Tartar City surrounds the Imperial City, and is called the "city within" because it lies within the walls. (4) The Chinese or Southern City is south of the Tartar City, and extends somewhat beyond it to the east and west.

Next to the Great Wall, the gateways should demand our interest. There are several, and Hata-men is the one which we frequently passed through. It was always thronged. The most densely crowded entrance, however, was the Chinese gate, Chien-men; here, at times, it was almost impossible for the jinrikisha to make a passage. The street scenes in Peking are wonderful because of their variety, and the length of the streets adds to their picturesqueness, although they are not quite so spectacular as those of Jeypore, India.

Many different styles of dress are seen. I noticed the long flowing robe of the Manchu women, with the Manchu head-dress and a remarkable arrangement of hair on a frame, spreading at the back with a sort of elongated butterfly effect, and held in place by a bright gold hairpin. The bands of hair are brought over in a way to give the impression of long loops, and they are decorated with bright flowers. The Manchu women are taller than the Chinese women, and walk with a statelier tread, as their feet have never been bound, the present Empress many years ago having issued an edict prohibiting that custom. The edict is, however, evaded, as Chinese fathers and husbands insist that the custom be kept up, seeming to imagine that abolishing it would have some peculiar effect on the character of the wife, perhaps resulting in insubordination. The Chinese women part their glossy black hair in the middle, wear it in smooth bands down the side of the forehead, and dress it in the back in a great variety of low loops. They also wear jewelled and gold hairpins that are really very artistic. Their dress consists of the long black sack coat and loose trousers, much like those of a man. The children of Peking, unlike those of the Orient, where clothes are virtually dispensed with, wear long-sleeved, high-necked garments reaching to the feet.



The bazars and shopping streets in Peking were interesting, many of the buildings rising four stories in height, and having the same long narrow decorated signs that I described in Canton. At intervals along the way very high poles are erected, and on these are placed different kinds of signs, giving these streets a brilliant appearance. The usual throng of dealers and of diverse nationalities are represented, resulting in a great deal of bustle and activity, a great deal of noise and dirt. The crowds around some of the gateways included rows of vehicles and sometimes a group of camels; but the most individual of all conveyances is the Peking cart; indeed, I have never seen any inanimate object that wore so individual an air, and when viewed in large numbers, their appearance is most peculiar. This cart is two-wheeled, with a roof, and with sides and back enclosed. One horse is used. In the front opening sits the driver, some one usually at his side, while behind him, far in the back, may be seen the faces of the occupants peering out. Many of the carts used by the ordinary people have no windows or openings on the side; others have windows covered with a kind of netting which admits some air.

The Llama Temple is considered to be one of the most important places to visit; it is in the eastern quarter of the Tartar City. The rule has been that just as soon as an emperor ascends the throne, the palace that he had previously occupied shall be changed into a temple. Such was the origin of the Llama Temple, once presided over by three thousand Mongol Llamas, and, at the head of them, a living Buddha. The temple has six parts: first the outside gate, then the entrance gate, then a large hall of very imposing proportions, in front of this a tablet upon which is inscribed the history of Llamaism. Before this tablet rests a bronze incense burner eight feet high, and on the southwest wall of the temple hangs a picture of the universe, upheld by the four-clawed feet of a huge sea-monster with three eyes. There are also three lofty pavilions. Beautiful silken rugs used to be laid on the floor of the impressive hall, and on the walls were very fine hangings. Many precious articles were carried away in 1900, at the time of the Boxer trouble, and some may still be hidden.



There is a colossal Buddha here of very evil countenance, towering three stories, and said to be seventy feet high. To those versed in Buddhist lore, these buildings are full of interest; it is only within a few years that the place has been open to the public. The Llama monks present a very impressive appearance at their evening service, with their long gowns crossed over, and their high caps like ancient Roman casques.

In construction, the Confucian Temple, near by, is similar to all Confucian temples throughout China; the hall is eighty-four feet long and the teakwood pillars forty feet high. In front there is a marble terrace, twenty-eight yards long and fifteen feet wide, reached on three sides by seventeen steps. The inscription on the Confucius tablet, written in Chinese and Manchu dialects, says: "The tablet of the soul of the most holy ancestral teacher, Confucius." Other tablets to noted teachers hang on either side. There are rows of cypresses in front of the hall said to have been planted one thousand years ago; and on each side of the court are buildings containing tablets to over one hundred celebrated scholars. A temple court extends in front, with six monuments which record foreign conquests by emperors. In the court of the Triennial Examinations there is a stone tablet to commemorate each session, on which are engraved the names and homes of all students who receive the title of Doctor of Literature.

Another unique building, west of the Confucius Temple, is the Hall of the Classics. Here there is a richly decorated pailow, with encaustic tiles, chiefly green and yellow; the three archways are lined with white marble. This hall was designed by the Emperor, Chien Lung, to complete the Confucius Temple, in which till then the classics had been expounded. It is lofty and square, with double eaves, yellow tiles, surmounted by a specially large gilt ball, and encircled by a fringe carried to the roof and supported by massive wooden pillars. In the centre is a circular pool of water, edged by marble balustrades, with a bridge spanning it. There is also a remarkable sun-dial. Two hundred upright stone monuments engraved on both sides contain the complete text of the nine classics, very finely executed; it was thought thus to preserve the purity of the text. There are also more lists of successful students on stone monoliths.

The Drum Tower was another point visited, one of the most striking objects in Peking; it is oblong and quite Chinese in character, the upper story being of wood, the lower of brick. It is one hundred feet high and about the same in length toward the base. It was built under the Mongol dynasty; a very large drum stands in the middle of the last story, and a climb of sixty-eight steps up a steep Chinese staircase gave us a fine view of the entire city. A short distance from the Drum Tower is the Bell Tower. This is built of brick and stone, ninety feet high, and is also Mongol in origin; the bell weighs twenty thousand pounds and is still used to tell the watches of the night; the drum in the tower is struck at the same time.



Some Chinese authority states that there are ten thousand temples in Peking, all built under the Mongol dynasty (thirteenth century), or the Ming dynasty (fifteenth and sixteenth centuries). Of these, the most striking is the Temple or Altar of Heaven in the southern part of the Chinese City, erected by the Ming Emperor, Yung-loh, in 1421; the enclosure, a fine park, measures about six thousand feet around. There are three large, imposing gates,—south, east, and west. To the north, the wall is crescent shaped and is without an entrance. The Altar or Temple of Heaven, open to the sky, is circular and of white marble. It is three stories high; the base measures two hundred and ten feet across, the second story one hundred and fifty feet, the third ninety feet. One large marble slab is in the centre. The white marble balustrades are richly carved to represent clouds. In the upper story, there are seventy-two pillars; in the middle, one hundred and eight; and in the lower, one hundred and eighty; thus making, in all, three hundred and sixty, the number of degrees in a circle. It is on the central marble slab that the Emperor stands and prostrates himself, worshipping under the blue arch of heaven. He goes three times a year to this temple, praying before daybreak, and having spent the previous night in the Grand Hall of Abstinence close by.

Between this and the closed Altar of Heaven, there is the small Temple of Prayer, where the ancestral tablets are kept, capped by one of the most remarkable roofs in Peking. This temple is a gem; its bricks and tiles are of the finest porcelain, and everything dates from the best period of Chinese art. The northern Temple of Heaven has a three-fold roof of blue tiles, recently rebuilt, the early one having been burned down. There are magnificent columns in this, and the ceiling is very elaborate. Before leaving the enclosure at the left of the gateway, we went through a large palace not in use at the present time, except on rare occasions; this was not in the itinerary, but our guide secured admission by paying a generous fee. Only a few rooms were furnished, but these were in excellent taste.



We next drove to the Altar or Temple of Agriculture. This is where General Chaffee and the American troops were quartered after the relief of Peking in 1900. The hall is the largest in the city, but there is nothing special to see in it. The rites observed here are nearly as important as those at the Temple of Heaven. The enclosure is two miles in circumference. The first two altars are rectangular; that of the Spirits of Heaven, on the east, is fifty feet long and four and one-half feet high; and the marble tablets therein contain the names of the celebrated mountains, lakes, and seas of China. On the first day of the second period of Spring, the Emperor goes there with three princes, nine great men, and a numerous following, all of them understood to be fasting. After they have worshipped, they proceed to the field which has been prepared; the bullock, the plough, and other accessories are all of Imperial yellow. The Emperor traces a furrow from east to west; returning four times, he thus makes eight furrows. The First Minister of the Treasury stands on the right with a whip, the Viceroy of the Province on the left with the grain, while a third official scatters the seed behind the Emperor. The three Princes each plough ten furrows, and so the work proceeds through all the dignitaries, according to their rank. The afternoon was one of the most interesting we spent in Peking, the temperature being perfect like our own June at home; all Nature was in harmony with the scene.

The Observatory was formerly one of the most distinctive sights in Peking. It affords a magnificent view towards the south of the wall of the Tartar City. The wonderful bronze instruments therein have outlived their usefulness, but their artistic merit makes them a glory and a joy. The Examination Hall was formerly situated close by the site of the Observatory, but when we were there it was being dismantled. The old method of examination is being given up, and the reform is one of the progressive changes in Peking, upsetting the precedent of ages. The examination of students is now carried on very much as it is in other countries.

Leaving the city, we drove some miles along the outskirts to the Yellow Temple. There are two temples, the eastern and the western; and, in front, are two very beautiful pavilions. Chien Lung repaired the western temple and changed it into a dwelling for Mongol princes, who arrived each year to pay their tribute. This is one of the finest buildings in China; it has great size, beautiful proportions, and a square entrance porch; but, since its occupation in 1900 by some of the Allied Forces, it has begun to fall into ruins. The eastern temple is in good condition, and critics claim that its proportions surpass those of any temple in Japan. The magnificent white marble monument or pagoda was erected by Chien Lung over the grave of the Teshu Llama who died of small-pox while on a visit there. On the eight sides of the memorial are engraved scenes in the Llama's life; these bas-reliefs are very interesting. The great White Temple is the most beautiful monument in the environs of Peking, and it is well worth the long drive to see it. On our return, we passed through the usual number of gates, from the Chinese to the Tartar, and from the Tartar to the Imperial; only a small portion of this latter section can be seen, but we caught glimpses of the many lovely buildings in the Forbidden City, and it was most tantalizing not to be able to enter the sacred precincts. From a sketch taken in 1900, we can form an idea of the many interesting points in this Forbidden City. The Imperial City, enclosing the Forbidden City, is over five miles in circumference; its walls are eighteen feet high, with four entrances about seventy feet wide. There are three gates, the central one of which is reserved for the Emperor. People are allowed to look in, but not to enter by this southern gate; the northern and eastern gates are open to the public.



One view in the Forbidden City is that of the Coal Hall, two hundred and ten feet high. It dates from the Mongol dynasty, when coal is said to have been piled up there as a provision in case of siege, the Ming Emperor having covered it all with beautiful pavilions.

Beyond the wall to the north is the Hall of Longevity, where the Emperor's coffin remains after his death and until his funeral.

The White Dagoba is conspicuous in all Peking views; it is within the gardens which are reserved for the court, and was built by the first emperor of the present dynasty as a shrine for a very fine Buddha. The White Dagoba is regarded as the palladium of the Empire, and stands at the very centre of the loveliest part of the palace grounds. A little farther to the west is found the finest pailow in Peking, made of very beautiful encaustic tiles; and behind a neighboring hillock rests the celebrated dragon screen, sixty feet long and twenty feet high; it was built to protect the library, which was unfortunately burned during the occupation of the allied forces in 1900.

A noticeable feature is the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas, all of glittering Imperial yellow, the walls covered with animals and small images of Buddha. The three lakes, northern, middle, and southern, are a little over two miles long; a beautiful marble bridge connects the northern with the middle lake.



The Winter or Skating Palace was distinctive for the finest wood carvings in China; these were also burned by accident in 1900. A large pavilion, surrounded by a circular wall, is near the marble bridge. In this pavilion is the throne, and it was there audience was given to several European ambassadors in 1893; there also the Emperor puts on mourning garments,—when, for instance, he had to grieve for his father, Prince Chan. At the northeast corner of the palace stands the fine yellow-tiled temple, with an imposing entrance; it has large gates, within the outer of which are two very quaint pavilions. Four or five roofs are piled, one on the other, and these can be distinctly seen from outside the walls of the Forbidden City. This brief outline may give one a little idea of what the public are deprived of seeing. Most of the buildings of the Forbidden City are yellow-tiled, as are also the walls.

The Summer Palace is the only one of the Peking buildings that dates from the present Manchu dynasty. There had previously been a palace there, but it had a long while since fallen into decay. It is said to have had lovely gardens, and many canals winding in and out, while in other places little miniature lakes are formed. The principal palace is attractive and rises on an eminence, but there are pavilions and lesser buildings scattered about. The present palace is, however, very inferior to those royal residences of olden times; it suffered greatly in 1900; the Russian soldiers seemed to take delight in destroying works of art and historic buildings. Some of the marble bridges are very effective, and there is a marble boat, not in itself very beautiful, but a picturesque feature as it lay anchored by the lake. We saw it from a high hill beyond the Emperor's palace, where is located a Buddhist pagoda. We had a view of the palace with its enclosure and its minor buildings.

This was one feature seen during an excursion which a friend and I took, escorted by a guide and a picnic luncheon basket on Saturday, May 25th. We left the hotel early for a six-mile drive, passing first through the crowded streets, again noting the dusty way of the Imperial City, which wound around near the walls of the Forbidden City, every pinnacle and roof gleaming in the morning light. Leaving the outskirts of the town, the country view was the pleasantest we had seen. Our road lay alongside of the canal, where there were more trees and less dust.

On the way we first visited the Five Pagoda Buddhist Temple, which seems to belong to a different world from that of to-day. It is a square mass of masonry fifty feet high, covered with old colored tiles and with beautiful reliefs of camels. On its flat top there are five pagodas, each eleven stories high; also, adjacent to it, a very elegant square pagoda, and, in front of it, what seems like the top of another large pagoda. Farther on, we saw the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple; it is not remarkable architecturally, and there are two large spacious buildings with a court between them. One of them consists of two stories, in both of which is a large room lined with little compartments containing small gilt Buddhas. The guide said there was a total of nine hundred and ninety-nine already, and the thousandth place was reserved for the Dowager Empress when she died.



We drove on to the village, adjacent to the Summer Palace, where we took jinrikishas for a ride of about two miles, following along the outskirts of the Summer Palace. Here were some temples, evidently not now used as places of worship, since the guide informed us that our luncheon would be served in the open court of one of them. After our impromptu meal we proceeded to walk about half a mile farther and then ascended an eminence with several flights of stairs leading to the pagoda which I have previously alluded to. We obtained, not only a view of the Summer Palace, but of the surrounding country. The little pagoda was several stories high, and very tasteful in all its appointments; it is said to have been built in commemoration of some event, but the guide could give us no exact information. We retraced our way to the city, and then drove through certain streets in order to enjoy the peculiar life around us.

The three or four miles stretching between the Chien-men and Hata-men gates on that Saturday afternoon surpass description. The Emperor's middle gate barred out the crowds; this opened on a somewhat discolored bridge, with fine carving and artistic balustrades, but the eye does not like to linger here long on account of the crowds of beggars everywhere visible; indeed, the hordes of women, children, vehicles, and processions of every variety seemed incredible. Funeral corteges in particular were very doleful; discordant music preceded the funeral car, and the crowds of paid mourners in motley dress, many of them picked up off the street for the occasion, were a new and distasteful feature. We saw on that trip three of these funerals, all similarly arranged, but only one modest wedding procession. The bride sat in a red silk-covered chair or palanquin, surrounded by friends; the usual attempts were made at music. Whether the happy lady was Manchu or Chinese we were unable to determine, the curtains being carefully drawn.

This thoroughfare, between the two gates alluded to, is famous for its gayly decorated shops with long, ornamented signs and banners flying in every direction. There are many such streets in Peking, and a few shady residence thoroughfares, but our way usually led through the congested sections. Pailows, where streets are crossed at right angles, are interesting, and they have usually commemorative arches; and sometimes the business houses of the locality bear their name, as the Four Pailow Shop.



Legation Street is the home for ambassadors and ministers, and is a decided contrast to the majority of native streets. Many of the foreign buildings are fine, the grounds large, with imposing gateways, over which may be seen the coat of arms of the country which is represented. The British Legation was formerly a palace. In the grounds is the English Chapel; here we attended service on Sunday. Our hotel was nearly opposite the British Embassy; hence, in going in or out, we usually touched Legation Street.

A notable excursion from Peking is to the Great Wall and the Ming tombs. The Wall we were to see was not the original one, built in 215 B.C., but an inner wall of the seventh century, which had still later been rebuilt by the Ming emperors. We left in the morning for the Nankow Hotel, where we were to pass the night. On our way to the Peking station, we saw the Emperor, en route from his Summer Palace to the city, in a yellow silk sedan chair, numerously attended by persons also robed in yellow. After luncheon at Nankow, we took sedan chairs ourselves for a twenty-six-mile ride to the Great Wall through the Nankow Pass. The long processions of guides and chairs were very picturesque, and there were also extra attendants as a necessary relay. The road was rather rough and very dusty, and our progress was therefore slow. Our roadway wound along, sometimes near a mountain, which lay on one side, with the valley on the other. The first gateway or arch we passed through was profusely decorated, having as a frieze a row of six Buddhas to right and left, and large Chinese figures below. Farther on, we came to another gateway, and then to another, the Pa-ta-ling, thirteen miles from Nankow and the top of the Nankow Pass. From every side long vistas could be seen; then portions of the Wall winding in and out, and ever and anon a massive watch tower looming forth.

We left our chairs and walked a considerable way up the mountain side to the ruined watch towers; the one I entered was a large oblong building, with six windows and two doorways; farther on was another similar watch tower, and, at a greater distance, another. These add greatly to the picturesqueness of the wide massive wall—wide enough for two or three persons to ride abreast. Taken altogether, the view from the Nankow Pass is one of the most magnificent I have ever seen, and, of course, entirely unlike any other. It was a glorious day, and all the elements seemed to conspire to make it a perfect occasion.



Resuming our chairs, we proceeded to retrace our steps; and in about an hour we stopped at a little hamlet for an afternoon collation furnished by our very thoughtful Director. The shades of night were beginning to fall when we resumed our journey, and erelong darkness overtook us. We were all more or less separated, as the guides made no attempt to keep together; and the sensation of being propelled by natives who did not speak one word of English was very peculiar and uncomfortable.

We arrived at the hotel about nine in the evening; a late dinner followed, and we separated with the expectation of meeting in the morning at five, for the departure to the Ming tombs. This is a distance of eight miles, or sixteen there and back to Nankow. The cavalcade left in the same fashion as on the day previous. Our way led us over the hills,—an irregular roadway, first through a field and past two little villages. We then came to a magnificently carved pailow of white marble, fifty feet high, eighty feet wide, and divided into five openings by square pillars. Half a mile farther on stands the Red Gate; and there was formerly a beautiful pavilion of white marble, supported on four carved columns. It may be well to state before proceeding, that there are in this vicinity, within a few miles of each other, thirteen Ming tombs, the Ming dynasty preceding the present one. Yung-lohi is considered the finest of the group, and this was now to be our objective point. Half a mile beyond the pailow already alluded to is the Red Gate. Next is the Holy Way. From here on for about half a mile, there is a regular procession of animals and persons, all cut out of bluish marble monoliths, remarkable for their workmanship and for their great size, which causes one to speculate how they could have been brought from the quarry. First, there are two columns decorated with sculptured clouds, two lions couchant, two lions rampant. Then, in similar manner, four camels, four elephants, and so on. After this come four military officials, four civil officials, four celebrated men, each made from a single block of marble, standing on opposite sides of the way, and all wearing the old Ming dress used by the Chinese before the Manchus introduced their own costumes.

Leaving the Holy Way, we passed through another arch, and came out on a street formerly paved with marble slabs. At some distance to one side, we saw two of the Ming tombs alluded to. We passed three marble bridges, one of seven arches, very much broken down. Two miles farther on, there is the principal enclosure around Yung-loh's tomb; it has a pavilion protecting a huge tablet with white marble steps and railings carved to represent clouds, phoenix, and dragons. Beyond lies the great hall, seventy yards long by thirty yards wide, and supported upon eight rows of teakwood pillars, four in each row, measuring twelve feet in circumference and sixty feet high. This is a typical ancestral hall. Our luncheon was served to us here.



Passing through another great yard planted with cypresses and oaks, a way cut into solid masonry leads up to the carefully closed door of the tomb. This passage divides into two branches, both leading to a long flight of steps which mount to the top of the terrace, where, immediately above the coffin passage, is an immense upright slab bearing an inscription. The mound on which this tomb is placed is half a mile in circuit, and, though artificial, looks natural, being planted with cypresses and oaks to the very top. The emperors used to come in the Spring and Autumn to sacrifice at these ancient graves, but for two centuries this duty has been left to a descendant of the Ming emperors.

There were different features to each of the Ming tombs, but, having seen the representative one, we were content to return to Nankow, as we were to take the afternoon train for Peking. While the trip to the Great Wall and the Ming tombs is somewhat fatiguing, the interest is so great as to reward one for the exertion.

We went our individual ways the last day in Peking, I to the Chinese City in pursuit of a mandarin coat for a friend. After passing through block after block in a chaotic condition, dirt and debris of all kinds flung everywhere, I left the chair and walked quite a distance through lane-like passages to the place designated, where I found that the dealer had transferred all his embroideries to the hotel in which we were staying, and that the said coat was probably in the collection I had looked at the previous evening. Having devoted two hours to the pursuit, I was somewhat discomfited. I then hurried to some of the streets leading off from Beggars' Bridge, a place which is, as its name suggests, the headquarters for beggars. Strange as it may seem, there is a guild of beggars in Peking, with an acknowledged king; their profession in the East is a fine art. There are interesting thoroughfares leading out from this bridge,—one, a Curio Street, where every conceivable article can be found, and the other, Bookseller Street. This last was a disappointment, as I was told that rare editions could be had; but through the interpreter, I learned that the conditions of the city had been altered since the Boxer Rebellion in 1890. Indeed, that fearful event was the cause of many changes in Peking and of great suffering as well. The story of the conflict as related by an eyewitness was very thrilling. Certain portions of the city at the present time consist of naught but ruins, such as the foreign mission buildings and the eastern and southern cathedrals, one of which was in process of renovation. The Legation quarter has been mostly rebuilt.



The cause of the Boxer Rebellion was everywhere given in Peking as having been instigated by the Dowager Empress and her sympathizers. No one can visit the city without receiving some definite impression of this wonderful woman, who for years has dominated all other authority—violating traditions considered sacred, and ruling with an imperious hand. For the Emperor only sympathy was felt. Of a refined, sensitive nature, but not strong physically, he seems to be a man of intelligence and of broad ideas. This was shown in 1898, when he announced that he intended to rule as other emperors did—to visit throughout his Empire; he even projected a railway journey to Tientsin in September, and planned many innovations. This was accomplished in conjunction with a few kindred spirits belonging to the so-called Reform Party in China.

Soon after, the Empress seemingly acquiesced in the plan of reform, and announced that she too was interested in progress; but, whether sincere or not, erelong the tables were turned; six of the Emperor's advisers were beheaded, and the seventh, an intimate friend of the Emperor, advised in time, left the country. Then the Empress had the Emperor confined, and she was proclaimed his successor; but the open intervention of the Allied Powers caused him to be returned to the throne. It is said that for ten years he has been an invalid. Can any one wonder, knowing the constant espionage and continual opposition to which he has been subjected? After two years' contemplating of the beauties of the court, Emperor Kwang Su was married, very much against his will, however (preferring another), to the niece of the Dowager Empress, the beautiful Yohonola; her photograph proves this to be a true statement. For her has been reserved the sad fate of remaining childless, and, in consequence, she is kept in the background and rarely ever mentioned. Tsze Hsi An is really one of the most remarkable women in the world's history. Of very humble origin, and uneducated, she, on the birth of her son, became the reigning Emperor's wife of the second rank. At his death and also at the death of her superior, she became regent during the minority of her son, and on his death violated traditions (the law prohibiting succession to one of the same generation as the dead ruler), and had the nephew of the deceased Emperor proclaimed, she reigning as regent until his majority and virtually thereafter.



Since 1900 the Empress has shown a desire to meet ladies of other nationalities in audience, and an American woman who had lived thirty-five years in Japan and China told me that the only thing required was an official endorsement by the Secretary of State (if American). Her failing health, however, during the past year caused an entire cessation of social courtesies. A woman of remarkably strong character, dominant will, and unscrupulous as to methods, she is the most perfect example, in juxtaposition, of the masculine woman, as the Emperor is of the feminine man.

We observed many things about the Chinese of to-day that point to progress, however slow. The schools, for instance, are modelled on a much broader basis; there is more independence in journalism; Chinese athletics are also coming into vogue, where they were formerly held in contempt; Young Men's Christian Associations flourish in various places, and fine work is being done by the many foreign missionary organizations. I heard much comment made concerning the American missions; their work along educational lines and in the way of hospitals was specially commended. Even Li Hung Chang, though a Confucian, testified to their value, as have other prominent Manchus. The mission movement in general is being regarded as a great sociological force which, though working slowly, tends to a higher condition of life.

All the signs of the times indicate that China and the United States are destined some day to come into closer relations with each other socially, intellectually and of course commercially, as self-interest is a great factor in the furtherance of any attitude. One of the means to this end is the Chinese student in American colleges and schools; the number is, however, very much smaller than in England, while five thousand men are entered in Japanese colleges and schools, on account of the nearer proximity of Japan and consequently the less expense.

Mention is constantly being made of the Reform Party in China, and hints at revolution are even heard. On this point it is well to quote an extract from "China and America of To-day." The authority says: "The Chinese people have no right to legislation; they have no right of self-taxation. They have not the power of voting out their rulers, or of limiting or stopping their supplies; they have therefore the right of rebellion. Rebellion is, in China, the old, often exercised, legitimate, and constitutional means of stopping arbitrary and vicious legislation and administration." Will it be necessary to resort to revolution in order to effect needed reforms? Time alone will determine.

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TIENTSIN, May 26th: We left Peking in the morning, and reached Tientsin at 11 A.M., going to the Imperial Hotel, where we were to remain two days. After luncheon we took a drive, first to the native city. There remains of the old walls and two fine gateways, which stand as reminders of an historic past, are to be seen. The street groups and bazars were similar to those observed in other cities, but far less interesting than those in Peking. The native city is said to number from six hundred thousand to a million persons; and yet, so extended and complete is the ground covered by the different foreign concessions, numbering less than four thousand persons, that they virtually represent the Tientsin of to-day; the British concession alone sets the tone to the city, with its fine business blocks. In Memorial Hall, dedicated to General Gordon, the municipal offices of the concession are located. The fine Public Garden is the centre, three times a week, of a military band concert, which attracts a large attendance and makes a brilliant scene, with its myriad electric lights. This feature of Tientsin life was introduced long ago by Viceroy Li Hung Chang, early in his term of office (1870-1891); and he is said to have paid for the instruction of the first military band. The building of the Industrial Association is popularly called "pigs in clover," and we learned from actual experience that the name was truly applied, as we had to make the long weary round before we could secure an exit.

On Victoria Road there are many private residences, and an imposing English Club edifice in the midst of large and attractive grounds.

The morning of the second day was devoted to incidental things; in the afternoon we attended a Chinese theatre which was similar to the one we had seen in Hong-Kong, only actors, who were grotesque acrobats, now took the place of the previous ballet-dancers. In the evening we attended a fine concert in the Public Gardens. The music was furnished by the Cameron Guards in Highland costume. It was a fine opportunity to see the English contingent, and from the Astor House across the way came ladies in evening dress; hats and wraps were also in evidence; and, in the rear, were files of soldiers of various nations from the different concessions.

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SHANHAIKWAN, May 29th: The following morning, we left for Shanhaikwan; we arrived in the evening, and went to a very comfortable railway hotel. The following morning, we made an excursion to the mountains and caught a glimpse of the Great Wall a long distance off; in one direction a valley; beyond that, hills; then mountains extending tier after tier, until the last faded away in the distant horizon. This wall is a continuation of the one visited in Peking, and formerly ended at the sea-line in Shanhaikwan, but the ravages of time and the devastation of man have carried away much of it.



We had left our chairs at a small place, said to be a Taoist temple, and had also passed the ruins of another temple, showing the isolated places selected by the early fathers for their centres of worship. After roaming about, we returned to the first temple, and around an improvised table, in plain view of the altar, we were served with a substantial luncheon brought from the hotel. Our return trip was over a different route, in order to secure a finer view of the Wall, some ruined towers, and parapets.

Later, we passed through two imposing gateways, and noted the great thickness of the Wall which, broken off, showed a brick exterior filled with earth. The way through the native town assured us of the usual Chinese life and bazars, Shanhaikwan having only a small European population. It was the scene of much activity during the Boxer Rebellion, and the regiments of several nations had posts or forts there, the English and Japanese even now continuing to maintain a small body-guard. In the afternoon we took a ride in a diminutive horse-car on a narrow-gauge road to the sea, four miles distant, where we found a sandy beach and bathhouses. This is a favorite resort for the Summer guests of the Shanhaikwan Hotel. Peitaho, which is situated back of Shanhaikwan in the mountains, has a large Summer colony from Peking and Tientsin, many of whom own their homes. At Shanhaikwan we had the pleasure of meeting Judge and Mrs. Charles Smith of Manila, and listened to many interesting experiences connected with life in the Philippines. Shanhaikwan is on the border between China and Manchuria.

We had been in Manchuria all day with an uninteresting landscape as regards variety,—plains, a few trees, and a little verdure stretched far away. Much of the land, however, was tilled, it being Springtime in this far-away country; and an occasional group of trees indicated what time and irrigation may accomplish in the way of agricultural results. At every station armed soldiers were on guard. Various theories were advanced to account for this; one said that brigands infested the country; another claimed that there might be danger of destruction to the track, this being the Southern Japanese-Manchurian Railway, which was running through an alien country. The right to this road and a strip of land each side of the track was secured by Japan either by treaty or by lease from China at the close of the Russian-Japanese war. Chan Chow was the largest station passed. Hsin Min was the scene of a conflict between the Russians and Japanese, and at the present time soldiers are still stationed there.

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MUKDEN, May 30th: Our next point to be visited was Mukden. The trip was not in our original itinerary, and we had some difficulty in securing it, as the Director felt that we could not obtain good hotel accommodations. We all, however, promised to accept uncomplainingly any condition which the situation offered. Nevertheless, we felt a little anxious about the result, as we were the first tourist party to invade Mukden, the capital of Manchuria, and also the old capital when it was an independent country and not, as now, a province.

At the King-jo Hotel, under Japanese management, we found six rooms furnished in supposed European style; these opened on upper and lower galleries and were comfortable. They really formed an annex in order to entice stray European guests. The entire household was Japanese, without any knowledge of the English language, so pantomime became our means of communication, and there were many amusing mistakes made on both sides. The utmost good-humor prevailed, however, and the atmosphere of the place was altogether pleasant.

The morning following our arrival, we rode in jinrikishas to the tomb of a Ming emperor. There are two of these tombs located at Mukden. We visited only one; it is four miles from the city, and beautifully located in a parklike enclosure. We entered at the side, through a long avenue of trees, the front entrance never being opened; there were two tall columns with grotesque figures of animals on top; then a lion on each side, seated on heavy pedestals. A three-arched pailow had a very massive carved cornice and entablature; on the cornice and on each division of the arch were seated immense carved lions; similar ones were also on the reverse side of the arch and on the ends, making ten in all, and adding to the impressiveness of the whole.

We now entered the sacred avenue, lined on each side with ten large stone animals. The path was much shorter than that visited in Nankow, and the carving of the animals was less perfect. The avenue ended with a gateway of three arches, which we did not pass through, but which contained a memorial tablet mounted on a huge tortoise; beyond this there was a long oblong building with an effective terrace roof; doors were placed in each corner of the walled enclosure. At the back rose an immense mound which covers the tomb. From a high tower overlooking the mound, we had a view of the entire enclosure.



The palace at Mukden is a large, imposing pile, built in 1631. There are many different buildings, all in the peculiar Chinese style with upturned eaves; these were barricaded while renovation was going on, and we could obtain glimpses of the interior only through cracks in the wall. The rooms were large and contained some wall decoration, while the whole effect was fine, in spite of all the inconveniences experienced in trying to see them; debris was everywhere. In one building the doors and windows were sealed with paper strips placed over them; this was the receptacle for valuable jewels and fine brocaded robes of royalty. We were first refused admission, but, on our return from the rounds of the palace, by some magical process (probably a large fee), a door was opened, and we entered and saw a wonderful display of rich gems, somewhat barbaric in style, fine swords, daggers, robes, and other paraphernalia.

The bazars in Mukden were not unlike those throughout China in their arrangement, but containing not nearly so attractive a display of goods. The population seemed mixed, judging from the type of faces and from the head-dress of the women, some of them having the plain, smooth arrangement of the hair, while others followed the peculiar Manchu style. Mukden owes its present celebrity to the Russian-Japanese war, as several battles were fought around it.

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June 1st: The following day, we took our departure for Niuchwang. We had been told that our route would be over historic battlegrounds, and we soon realized this, for, after leaving Mukden, we saw the monument erected by the Japanese Government as a memorial to the memory of the Japanese soldiers who fell in a desperate engagement, March 13th, 1905. This was the battle of Shio-ho, one of the worst of the war. General Kuropatkin headed the Russians, while Generals Kuroki and Nogi were on the Japanese side. The Russians were vanquished and were forced to retreat to Karpan. Later we came to a large place, formerly a Russian city, Lara-yang, which was taken by the Japanese, and now seems in a prosperous condition. A large rocky mountain, passed later on, was the scene of a desperate attempt of the Japanese to dislodge the Russians, and here eight thousand of the former lost their lives. At one point a tall granite monument was raised to the memory of ten thousand Japanese soldiers, all of which gave us a realizing sense of the horrors of the conflict. Later, these warlike reminders ceased, and the landscape showed broad, well-cultivated fields; indeed, the Manchuria of to-day, as far as we could determine, seems a fertile plain; and while a coarser cereal is now raised, it seemed possible that this might become a great wheat-producing land with proper cultivation.

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NIUCHWANG: When near Niuchwang, we came to the city of Shai-seng, and saw the long lines of Russian barracks which are now occupied by the Japanese. We reached our destination late in the evening, and had a jinrikisha ride of over an hour before turning to the Central Hotel, which had been greatly damaged by fire, but which we persuaded our Director to select for us. Our surroundings were not luxurious, but a fairly good dinner awaited us.

In the morning we had a delightful surprise. A call of the Director at the English Club the evening previous had resulted in an invitation extended to the entire party to breakfast at the residence of Mr. Henry A. Bush, of Bush Brothers, a noted firm in the East. Never was an invitation more gladly accepted. The mistress of the household was absent, but Mr. Bush, aided by friends, did the honors to perfection. It was a lovely home and full of good cheer. Two hours later we were sent to the station in carriages, and escorted to a junction, nine miles away, by a relative of the family. We learned afterward that this courtesy was often extended to tourists since the burning of the hotel. I am happy to state that both at Mukden and Niuchwang modern hotels will be opened at an early date, both being named the Astor House, a favorite appellation all through the East.

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DALNY: The ride to Dalny (the Japanese wish it called Darien) ended at nine in the evening; the scenery en route was not unlike that of the day previous, except that we observed a higher degree of cultivation, and the plains were more extended, terminating in the distance in low ranges of hills. We found Dalny modern in appearance, save in a few large buildings which showed their early origin; the Russians had planned the place as a model city before the war, which in time might become a flourishing adjunct to Port Arthur. The city was evacuated before the siege of Port Arthur, the Russians concentrating all their strength at the latter point. Dalny is a port of some importance, but we were told there was little local business to speak of. Tourists are beginning to go there, as it is a convenient point to remain if one wishes to visit Port Arthur, which is a long day's excursion, leaving early in the morning and returning on an evening train. This has, heretofore, been the customary plan of procedure, owing to superior hotel facilities at Dalny; but a new hotel was nearly completed at Port Arthur when we were there.



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PORT ARTHUR, June 4th: We left early for a hard day's excursion to Port Arthur. The standpoint of the tourist is that of interest and curiosity to see the port which was so recently the scene of such tragic events. With military knowledge, the interest would be more in observing the strategic position and the methods of defence. Before speaking of the incidents of the day, a brief outline of Port Arthur will be given as a key to the situation. A view of the place from the sea is disappointing, as the hills that circle around the bay are bare and destitute of vegetation and foliage. The foothills of a long mountain range divide the peninsula of Liao-tung (the circle of the hills extending over ten miles); several bays also indent the shore. Viewed from the land side, the town and port lie in an amphitheatre, hidden from the sea by Golden Hill on one side and by the Tiger's Tail Peninsula on the other. This strong position was fortified by the Russians in the newest way.

The defence works are divided into coast and inland groups. The coast section is the Golden Hill position, which stands at the left side of the entrance to the harbor and commands the outer bay. From this hill, toward the sea and to the north, making a semicircle, the line of fortifications extends three miles, including many permanent works; the first of these is called the Silver Hill group, and there are several lines lying east and north of this. That group of forts on the left side is named the Tiger's Tail Peninsula, and is as strong as Golden Hill on the opposite side. The sea just outside of Tiger's Tail was the place where the Japanese fleet attacked the Russian squadron at anchor. Because of the vast strength of each of these two opposite points, and their close communication and support, they have been considered the strongest fortresses ever yet invested.

The city of Port Arthur is divided by Monument Hill into two parts, Old or East Town, and New or West Town. The old town is the real Port Arthur; the new one was formerly a Chinese hamlet, called Tai-yo-ko,—the Russians building this section after its occupation. The old is a business town; the new an official town. Here we have the contrast of a European centre on one side with a Chinese on the other. In the old town are situated the Port Admiralty, Navy Yard, Army Hospital, Red Cross Hospital, Museum, and Fortress Office, formerly General Stoessel's house. In the new town are the Governor General's office and some civil administration buildings, a park, and numberless residences.

On our arrival at Port Arthur, we took carriages, and, after securing a permit, went to the Siege Museum, which is filled with the trophies of war, and models of some of the forts that were taken; we examined these carefully in order the better to understand the methods employed by the Japanese in storming fortifications; tunnelling was the way in which the North Fort was taken. The Siege Museum was interesting from another point, as it had been the mess-house of the Russian officers of the garrison, and the walls were covered with views of the Crimean and other wars; there was also a large collection of pictures of Russian generals.



We then had a long drive to Monument Hill, which is situated between the old and the new town near the railway station. It is a high point, commanding the harbor and the forts, and one can obtain a bird's-eye view of Port Arthur from its top. On account of its advantageous position, General Nogi and Admiral Togo chose the hill for the mausoleum and monument which are built in memory of those who lost their lives. There are two peaks; the mausoleum is situated on one, the monument on the other. The monument, two hundred feet high, was in process of construction when we saw it; stones raised from the sunken ships formed the principal material in building it. On the opposite peak, with a torii in front, as an indication of the Shinto faith, is the mausoleum, where the remains of 22,183 officers and soldiers have been buried with formal ceremonies. It is impossible to convey an idea of the impressiveness of the scene as we stood on this hill, gazing out on a landscape significant of war and carnage on every side.

After luncheon at the almost completed new hotel, we had the roughest ride I have ever taken—a long distance to the outskirts in order to view some of the ruined forts—first, to East Keekwan, the name of a group of defence works. The main fort here was so well defended that it was considered unassailable from any direction; it was also very strongly protected. The assault began on the 18th of August; there was very stubborn resistance, and many attacks were necessary before General Stoessel, on January 1st, proposed to surrender. As the Russians retreated, however, they blew the fort up with dynamite. A scene of desolation greeted us in consequence, and it was almost impossible to walk across the debris.

We next visited another prominent work belonging to this group, called North Fort, the one we had studied at the Museum in the morning, with its intricate system of tunnels. These latter represented two shafts, three feet high and two feet wide, each forty feet long with four trenches; eight mines had been laid, and these were exploded on the 18th of December, blowing away the rampart in the northeast and seriously damaging the interior. A desperate resistance followed, but the Russians finally retreated, destroying a part of the fort before they left. We also saw other defences, but had no time to study them, as a long rough drive ensued, in order to reach 203-Metre Hill, the scene of the last engagement.



203-Metre Hill is the highest eminence of the whole fortified line, about two and one-half miles from the new town. It commands the whole western harbor, and most of the eastern, and from the top can be seen all the fortified positions, including camps and trenches. The occupation of this hill was the death-blow to the Russians, and it has been called the key to Port Arthur. It was very strongly fortified, and the work of occupation was a fearful task, involving a great loss of life. Early in September the attack began, and it was taken early in December; the Japanese loss in dead and wounded was 7578, and after the capitulation of Port Arthur, the Russian remains were collected and buried to the number of 5400; the real count was supposed to be more than 7000. The possession of this hill by the Japanese sounded the death-knell of the Russian fleet, which was practically wiped out of existence on the 9th of December. We regretted not being able to visit Port Arthur the following week, when a most interesting occasion was to occur,—the dedication of the fine monument erected by the Japanese Government to the memory of the Russian soldiers who are buried there. I saw photographs of the monument, but could not procure one, as they were not then for sale. The moral significance of this event was very great, as the Russians, officially and non-officially, accepted the gift with grateful appreciation.

A friend sent me an account of the exercises at Port Arthur which occurred on June 10th. The Russian Archbishop and a number of high military officials came from Russia, and General Nogi and other Japanese officials from Japan. There were formal exercises of a varied kind. The chief feature was the address delivered by the Archbishop. He opened by saying "that only by the brave can the brave be appreciated. In this world of ours war seems to be unavoidable; at the same time it evokes and gives occasion for expressing some of the finest feelings of which human nature is capable. The many thousands of men who lie sleeping under the monument just unveiled were heroes who loyally and bravely laid down their lives in their country's cause. Such men are best appreciated by men of their own stamp; and the noble action of the Japanese in erecting this monument to the memory of their fallen foes showed that the best feelings of which human nature is capable rise superior even to the most tragic incidents of life. In performing this beautiful deed, the Japanese had not only shown themselves worthy of wearing the laurels which they had won, but had also gained a second victory even more prolonged and enduring. Amid all the horrors of war, humanity must not forget the opportunities it furnishes for the display of such traits." The Tokio and other Japanese papers devoted much space to accounts of the ceremonies and festivities connected with the unveiling of the monument. Some of them seemed to regard it as an emotional display, and others found it impossible to read the accounts without concluding that the Japanese and Russians had wellnigh, if not altogether, laid aside their feeling of mutual hostility.



An English gentleman on the train to Dalny spoke of General Stoessel's surrender in very caustic terms, basing his position on information received from one of the officers on the General's staff. It occurred to me that the officer would not be likely to give favorable testimony, as there was a possibility of his also suffering penalties in Russia. It will always be a mooted question whether the surrender was justified by the condition of affairs at Port Arthur; certainly it was in the interest of humanity, as it was stated on Japanese authority that there were at least twenty-five thousand sick at Port Arthur.

On the following morning, we left Dalny, or Darien, by the steamer Santo Maru, for Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, Korea.

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CHEMULPO, SEOUL, June 7th: Chemulpo is an open port and has quite a foreign settlement; it now can boast of wide streets and some shops, but twenty years ago it was nothing more than a fishing village. The Trans-Siberian Railway is the only means of connection between Chemulpo and London, twenty-one days being required for the trip. The two hours' railway ride between Chemulpo and Seoul affords quite diversified scenery.

The situation of Seoul is beautiful. It is a walled city, the entire circumference of which is twelve miles, and in this wall are eight arched gateways. While the wall itself is not high, it seems to cling near to the sides of the foothills and the mountains. These mountains are quite bare of vegetation, but the little valleys between the hills are green, rice being one of the products cultivated.

Korea to us was mostly Seoul, as there is no provision for guests at present in the mountains. We met a gentleman and his two daughters who were going to the mountains, but they were to be entertained by a missionary family; in time this condition of affairs will no doubt be improved, as it is in Java.

Korea is a land of great beauty. The inhabitants are lovers of nature, as is shown in the names they give to their mountains and valleys, such as The Mountain Fronting the Moon, The Mountain Facing the Sun, The Valley of Cool Shade, The Tranquil Sea, and The Hill of White Clouds. The descriptions of the mountains in the extreme North are more peculiar still: The Peak of the Thousand Buddhas, The Cloud Touchers, and the like.



The people of Korea, as they are viewed on the streets, seem to be contented, with apparently a larger leisure class than we had seen in any previous city. This was emphasized by the dress of the men, consisting of a long white costume open in front, made of a kind of grass lawn; a pair of loose trousers, something like the Turkish trousers, is worn beneath this. Officials, ministers, and noblemen dress elegantly, their costumes being made from the finest silk lawn, and they wear silken girdles.

The dress of middle-class women is even more peculiar than that of the men. The upper garment is very short, made of white or green lawn or calico; a few inches below this is a petticoat, touching the ground; between these two garments there is nothing but the bare skin. It is not an agreeable spectacle. When on the street, they wear what is called the chang-ot; it consists of a long white or green cloak, with green cuffs and collar, cut like a sack. The neck of this garment is put over the head, and the long white sleeves fall from the ears and are seen flapping in the wind.

The single or married man may be known by the style of his hair. The single man wears a cue, but when married it is done up in a twist and kept in place by a woven horsehair band. We saw a few who had cut their hair. The women dress their hair rather plainly on the sides, and do it low on their necks in the back.

The women of the better class lead very secluded lives, almost like the Zenana; indeed, their customs seem similar to those in India. The children up to a certain age are seen in a state of entire nudity.

The girls of the lower class are sold as domestic slaves, and may be seen running beside the chairs of their mistresses. They look, however, as though they were kindly treated.

The Seoul scenes at night are most peculiar. The women of the upper class are allowed to take exercise only at this time. Men formerly were excluded from the streets at night, but now are seen. Some one has compared this nocturnal city graphically with the old idea of the resurrection. Many of the men are supported by the labor of the women of their household. The laundry work of a family in Seoul must be very considerable on account of the number of white garments worn.

A Korean lady travelling in her sedan chair is quite an imposing spectacle. The chairs are somewhat heavier than those we had previously seen.



The dress of the dancing-girl is many-colored, worn with a profusion of sashes and decorations. The head-dress is about three times as high as that worn by a Manchu woman. The costume consists of a white flowing under-robe, and over this a colored silk robe. There are very large sleeves and a sash worn high on the waist. The robe falls apart in front and shows loose trousers. The dancing-girl and the singing-girl correspond to the geisha and Maiko of Japan.

Sight-seeing in Seoul is less exhausting than in other cities, as there are no galleries, museums, or elaborate tombs to be described. The interest in the city is found amongst its street scenes and in the peculiar life of its people.

Seoul spreads out over a plain, which extends to the mountains. There is quite a variety of scenery included within its area. The country near by is extremely picturesque, quite unlike the outskirts of Peking. There are small villages and pleasant walks and drives at an easy distance from the city.

The bazars are placed far out on the street, except in one point where there seems to be only one central bazar.

The manufacture of brass is the specialty of Seoul; all the ancient forms are reproduced. Some of our party purchased large collections of artistic and serviceable articles.

The most imposing building is the Temple of Heaven. It is bare, compared with the one at Peking, but it has some features that are similar and is made of marble. It is, however, a combination of the two temples seen in Peking, opening at the side, and having an open roof over the centre; adjoining it there is a three-story pagoda, much like a pavilion in many respects.

The ancient tomb of the old Korean noblemen interested us. It is of marble, with a peculiar carving on top. At the base is an immense tortoise.

The Buddhist temple was also visited. This had an imposing entrance approached by white marble steps. It was spacious, but architecturally far inferior to those we had seen elsewhere. The upturned roof was interesting.

The marble pagoda, rising seven stories above the base, was really very beautiful. It had a special small enclosure about it, filled with flowers. This enclosure was in a large park, which contained an artistic pavilion, evidently for the convenience of people who wished to view the pagoda.

There are said to be eighteen palaces in Seoul. Some of these at present are not in use. We passed the new marble palace where the Emperor was staying. Then we went on to the large old palace which has been vacant ever since the assassination of the Queen. There were imposing entrance gates here, and many preliminary buildings before we reached the most important ones. The Audience Hall is very spacious and very well proportioned. The approach to it is fine, consisting of many marble seats where the high officials sat when his Majesty appeared. From the exterior the Audience Hall seems to have two stories, as there are two of the peculiar Chinese roofs, but inside it forms one very high room. The Audience Hall as a building is a great decorative feature in the palace grounds. There is one other large room in it called, I believe, the Hall of Congratulation.



We passed on to the palace of the assassinated Queen. This has now been torn down by order of the Resident General, on account of its unpleasant association both to the Koreans and to the Japanese. It originally covered a good deal of ground and must have been spacious. The grounds are very large and interesting, containing many lovely trees. One building therein was raised like an immense pavilion and surrounded by a miniature lake, very pleasing with its setting of green and at times covered with water-lilies.

Quite a pretentious building, with its wide projecting Chinese eaves open on all sides and showing columns, was the one which contained the monument erected in honor of the Emperor's jubilee.

A picturesque feature of the city consists of the gates of the Wall. We took drives through these to different points near by. Particularly noticeable is the Western Gate, or Gate of General Righteousness. This is massive, showing the thickness of the wall, and the high roof over the arch is very effective.

All the hills around Korea are considered sacred and are dedicated to burial purposes. In one alone, seventy-five thousand persons are placed. The drive presents very diversified scenery. As we approached the tomb of the Queen, considerable formality was required. It was necessary to possess a permit, soldiers being stationed outside the grounds. The hill was very broad and quite steep at places, and on top the large tomb was composed of marble. We could have visited several others, but preferred to return home by the way of an old Buddhist monastery, a great part of the road being lined with trees on either side. We found the monastery rather dismantled and but few monks in attendance. They have to endure many privations, and their surroundings looked extremely bare.

After this excursion, we ended the day by attending the Korean Theatre. The ride there was interesting, as we saw all the particular evening sights I have described. The arrangement of the room was very simple; we sat in elevated boxes at the sides. About the stage all the details were primitive. The action of the play was poor, but the enthusiasm of the audience was great. We remained but a short time.



In the matter of education the women of the higher class are somewhat above the average, but those of the middle and lower classes are entirely ignorant. Education is one of the many recent reforms instituted; the old order of things is rapidly being changed. Electricity has been introduced, electric trams extend some distances even into the country, and there is a good postal service. A gentleman who had been a resident for some fifteen years is my authority for stating that in his opinion the mistake the Japanese were making in their protectorate was in pushing reforms too rapidly. The Koreans are slow in their response to foreign and western ideas.

The deposed King seems to be of a peculiar type. He is described as having a weakness for intrigue, his early education having been received under conditions that foster such qualities. He was married at thirteen years of age to the late Queen; she was said to be unusually gifted, and an attractive woman, even though unscrupulous and at times cruel.

There are many opinions regarding the immediate outcome of Japan's protectorate over Korea. Those who have faith in the integrity of Marquis Ito believe in good results; others fear that the invasion of a large number of Japanese having business interests will rather overshadow the Koreans, who are indolent and inclined to take their ease. On this subject there can be only conjecture; time will decide. An interesting book, "In Korea with Marquis Ito," which has been published during the year, deals with this question fully; George Trumbull Ladd is the author.

Looking backward, we find that the kings of Korea were the vassals of China for a long period, but as one of the results of the Chinese-Japanese war, there was a complete renunciation of the authority of the Emperor of China. Hence it seems strange that at the close of the Russian-Japanese war another important change and crisis should have come to Korea.

* * * * *

FROM SEOUL, KOREA, TO YOKOHAMA: We left Seoul at eight on the morning of June 9th for Fusan, and the railway journey, an all-day trip, was a fatiguing one, owing to the dust; but we had glimpses of mountain scenery and plains. Fusan was simply a point of departure for Japan. We took our steamer, Satsuma-maru, at six that evening for the night only, as we were due at Shimonoseki early the next morning. The approach here was through the straits, and was unlike any previous view,—a wide entrance between two high promontories, with mountains on either side.



Shimonoseki is quite an important point commercially, but our stay was, as I say, one of convenience only, since we took the train at 9.30 for Miyajima and the Sacred Island. This is considered the finest railway trip in Japan as regards scenery, and our exclamations of delight were many, for there were mountains covered with verdure and rice-fields, and from time to time glimpses of the famed Inland Sea. We had long anticipated this visit to the Sacred Island; we knew Miyajima had a population of three thousand, and was a fishing village, aside from the great interest which attaches to the temples; that the island rose eighteen hundred feet above the sea and was rocky, although covered with heavy foliage; but I was unprepared for the unique charm that awaited us.

The approach to Miyajima, as we crossed the lake, gave us a fine first impression,—the great torii standing boldly forth from its watery base; the stone lanterns in the foreground; the temple seen dimly through the green; and the thickly wooded hills in the background all added greatly to the landscape. At our right, on an eminence, was situated the Mikado Hotel, which was to shelter us, and which we later found to be an ideal abiding-place.

We proceeded at once to the great temple, which, with its corridors and galleries, six hundred feet long, represented something distinctively unique. One line of galleries extends out into the water at high tide, and stretches out like so many arms in various directions; a new series is being constructed. All of these intricate passages centre in the great temple, large and finely proportioned, but, like all Shinto buildings, comparatively simple as regards adornment. As we approached, we were confronted by at least twenty-five priests and ten dancing-girls, who were grouped together for a photograph; the priests' robes and the many-colored dresses of the girls produced a striking effect, as they sat on a platform in front of the temple. Later the girls went through several of the so-called "holy dances"; we were not permitted to enter the temple.

Passing through a long corridor, we next ascended a hill and visited the unique Temple of a Thousand Mats. This is grim with age but of immense proportions, and having many rows of columns, covered from base to capital with small wooden mats shaped somewhat like butter ladles, each one of which is inscribed with the name and residence of the donor; the ladles are on sale at the temple. Not only the pillars, but every available place in the temple, is thus utilized, producing a very grotesque effect. The plan consists in each person writing his name, residence, and some sentiment on these mats; it originated after the Chinese-Japanese war in 1894, when pilgrims came to visit the temple and thus paid tribute to it.



Near the temple there is an imposing pagoda, also of ancient date, and on an adjacent knoll another shrine. Returning to the hotel, we noted many more stone lanterns, and still another temple with its attendant torii. We also passed through the lane-like streets of the village, thickly lined with bazars; the shops were filled with many tasteful articles, carved wood being a specialty in Miyajima. These shops reminded us of Switzerland, as did the heights, a portion of which is covered with an attractive park.

After dinner, we regretfully bade adieu to the members of the Trans-Siberian party, leaving only Miss M—— and myself to return to Yokohama. To speed them across the lake, their guide had arranged for an illumination, produced by lighting candles in many of the tall stone lanterns; this we also enjoyed, our guide taking us out on the lake in a sampan; and as we rode toward the great torii it seemed to assume immense proportions, while the effect of the lanterns was magical. It was indeed a fairylike scene.

We were called at four the following morning, breakfasted at five, and were on our steamer before six for the trip to Onomichi on the Inland Sea. The island was lovely as we left in the early light; and the whole landscape, from the towering mountain in the distance, the lesser ones sloping down to the plateau, to the sea, scintillated in brilliant color; even the great stone lanterns that were so unique the evening previous now stood out in bold relief, and the old torii was statelier than ever. As the little village and shore line faded away, we wished an artist could have caught the view. We sailed out into the finest part of the Inland Sea, where the shore was deeply indented with rocky promontories, which first ended in a high projection to our right; to the left was a continuous line of low islands. A wide extent of open sea was the next scene in the panorama, to be succeeded by a picturesque island, clad in verdure; then two small, boldly defined, rocky islands; next a low range of five islands slightly connected, seeming like a tiny range in mid-ocean; a higher chain of islands was crenellated and presented the appearance of being scooped out and showing a light yellow soil. The scene now narrowed, and the mountains on either side showed signs of cultivation, the terraces running almost to the top. The guide told us that barley was the principal cereal raised. A marvellous island to our left now presented itself; this had a high, rocky base, from which seemingly sprang a miniature forest, the tall towering evergreens lending a fringelike appearance near the skyline. And so the panorama continued with ever-increasing variety.



We paused at Ujima, the port of Hiroshima, where perhaps is located the most wonderful garden in Japan. Ujima is a place of twelve thousand inhabitants, and the taking on of cargo consumed an hour. Soon after, we came to an island which had been transformed into a magazine; the side presented to us was a solid wall of rock. This was the precursor to our arrival at Kore, the most important naval station in Japan. The steamer touched anchor, which gave us an opportunity to note the many war-vessels in the harbor, three of which had been captured from the Russians.

Our next point for landing passengers was Tukehare, in the narrowest part of the Inland Sea, with the Pass of Oudo in Sato-See. Here something unexpected occurred, as the steamer ran aground; and, after persistent efforts to effect our release, a naval craft came to our assistance and had to tow the steamer through.

The scene now widened so that the shore seemed distant; this gave leeway for shipping of various kinds, large and small, and at one time I counted forty-five craft around us. Small sampans with three or four sails predominated. Our interest now centred not so much on shore as on boldly defined islands that occasionally came into view. In another place there were five promontories apparently in a direct line,—the first, dark green; the next, pale green; the next, brown in tint; the next, rocky; the fifth, foliage,—a veritable poem in color. We stopped for passengers three times before reaching our destination.

Our lovely trip on the Inland Sea ended at the little port of Onomichi, where, you will remember, we passed the night at a Japanese inn. We left at once, and visited some of the temples for which Onomichi is famous. We first went to a very old Buddhist place with an equally ancient pagoda, Sinkokuji; this was at quite a height above the street, and was in decay. Interest centred chiefly in the Senkiji Temple, rudely formed of huge blocks of granite which seem to spring from the soil; to reach this, we climbed a succession of tiers of stairs, each landing affording an extended view of the hamlet. The shrine and the details of this rock-bound temple were very simple, but there was a weird impressiveness about it.

At five we took the train for Kobe, arriving there at nine, this time staying at the Mikado Hotel. Having been there twice before, the visit was simply in order to break the trip to Yokohama; so a jinrikisha ride and a visit to a few shops the morning following sufficed in the sight-seeing line; and in the evening we took the night train for Yokohama, arriving there early on the morning of June 12th. Yokohama was to be our headquarters until the homeward sailing, June 29th.



I have before spoken of the beauty of the bay and the fine location of the city. The heights reminded me of Hong-Kong; but on this third visit the scene seemed to have gained new interest, for all Nature was in her Summer dress, and the streets and parks teemed with life. There were many jinrikisha rides and much general enjoyment during the two weeks and a half that followed. Yokohama is a modern city and not famed for sight-seeing particularly, aside from the shops, which are of great interest and are filled with beautiful things; the curios, silks, and embroideries were very enticing, and, as dressmaking can be done well and economically by many of the Chinese tailors, some time is devoted even by tourists to that.

Moto-machi Temple is of interest, heading the little shopping street of that name, which, with Benten-dori divides the interest as regards small but well-equipped native stores. The temple is Buddhist.

Nogeshima is a hill from which an extended view of the city and harbor may be enjoyed. With cherry blossoms in May, great fields of many-colored iris marked the month of June, and an expedition to such a field proved attractive. The ride around Mississippi Bay is possibly the greatest trip for an afternoon's excursion. A picturesque feature of the city is the one hundred steps leading to the heights, on the top of which is a tea-house, largely frequented by residents. The many pleasant homes and churches make the heights very attractive, and one morning we extended our jinrikisha ride to the outskirts so as to visit the gardens and greenhouses of a young Japanese who supplies the hotel with peculiar dwarfed plants for the dining-room tables. We saw some maples and cedars twelve inches in height and fifteen years old.

The park, attractive at any time, is especially interesting in May on account of the cherry blossoms. It must be remembered that Yokohama was only a fishing village when Commodore Perry anchored there in 1854; it was not the treaty port until 1858, and from that time begins its commercial importance. The greatest portion of the city as it now exists dates from after the fire of 1866, and the bluff on which most of the residents have their dwellings was first leased for building purposes in 1867; since then a large native town has sprung up outside the foreign settlement.

The principal excursion from Yokohama is to Kamakura, about one hour's ride by train. It was once the capital of Japan, from the end of the twelfth to the fifteenth century, numbering over one million inhabitants; but it now affords no indication of its former glory; it is only a little seaside village to-day, and its principal interests are the great Dai-butzu, or Buddha, and certain other temples; the Buddha is renowned among Japanese works of art. We took a jinrikisha from the station, and first visited the Temple of Hachiman, which occupies a high position on a hill and is reached through an avenue of pine trees. We passed through three stone toriis before reaching the temple, which stands at the head of a broad flight of stone steps.



The perspective when approaching the gigantic Buddha is fine, and gives one, at a distance even, the impression of great majesty. This work dates from about 1252 A.D. It was originally enclosed in a building, fifty yards square, whose roof was supported on sixty-three massive wooden pillars. The temple buildings were twice destroyed by tidal waves, since which they have not been re-erected, and the image has therefore been exposed to the elements. Within the statue is a large room. As we approached the great bronze Buddha, we realized an indefinable, spiritual significance; it stands over forty-nine feet high and ninety-seven feet in circumference, but appears serene, seemingly in the attainment of absolute peace after having reached the Nirvana.

The Temple of Kwannon is not far from the Dai-butzu, on an eminence, commanding a beautiful view of the seashore and the plain. We had luncheon at a pretty seaside hotel, Kamakura now being a Summer resort. Afterwards we took a tram for the Sacred Island of Enoshima. Arriving at the village of Katse, we walked across to the island. Enoshima presents a high wooded aspect, and through the foliage on the heights one can obtain glimpses of many tea-houses. From the earliest ages the island was sacred to Benten, the Buddhist goddess of love. Nearly all of the temples are dedicated to Shinto goddesses. The most sacred spot is a cave on the far side of the island, one hundred and twenty-four yards in depth, the height at the entrance being at least thirty feet.

We next took the train for Yumoto, the point of departure by jinrikisha for Miyanoshita.

The train ride to Yumoto was most unusual, as the line lay through a succession of small villages, the road sometimes being so narrow that we could see into the homes or look into shop windows as we went through a business street. At Yumoto we took a jinrikisha for the ascent to Miyanoshita; the route was picturesque. To the left were mountains, the rocky sides sometimes projecting over the roadway, and giving me the sensation of imminent danger.



To the right, far below, was a long extended valley through which poured a mountain stream, the murmur of which was a continual refrain. On the other side of the valley was a towering range of mountains. The whole scene affects one in a peculiarly subtle way; there is a sensation of being withdrawn from the actual experiences, of living in a new and far-away world. Suddenly the road diverged, and we had mountains on either side; another turn, and on a tree was a signboard, "Durkee's Scotch Whiskey." Instantly the "supreme moment" vanished, and I was again in my home city, and one of a band of women battling "the bill-board nuisance." I was rebellious at thus being despoiled of my poetic mood and tried to regain lost ground, but erelong another turn and Durkee's Scotch Whiskey again appeared! Sadly I resigned myself to fate and awaited our arrival at the Fujira Hotel.

It was dark when we reached the little village and went still farther up the slope to where the lights were gleaming from the circling, four-divisioned hostelry.

As I entered the spacious hall and caught glimpses of the adjacent apartments, then went upward to my own dainty room furnished in European style, I felt a sense of relief. Two little maids appeared to offer service, a pretty kimono and slippers suggested comfort, and I was content! Descending to the dining-room a little later, I met an English lady and her brother, who had been steamer and hotel companions several times, and this furnished more good cheer.

The following morning, I joined an early party for the excursion to Lake Hakone. It was a glorious day and promised well for the hoped-for view of Mt. Fujiyama, 12,000 feet above the sea.

The way is too rough and mountainous to be taken other than in a sedan chair. At first we had lovely mountain scenery, then the road grew wilder and mountain gorges appeared on either hand, then in one place there were far distant mountains, a nearer range almost sloping to our pathway. Sometimes the ascent was so steep and the path so narrow that it required much holding on to retain the seat in the chair.

This was even more difficult when we began to make our descent to the village, which is, however, 2378 feet above the sea (Miyanoshita is 1377 feet). The little Japanese tea-house where we tarried and had our luncheon is finely located close to the shore of Lake Hakone, a beautiful body of water with wooded shores. This lake is popular for boating and bathing.

From the window we looked out on the distant sacred mountain, Fujiyama, which is revered by all Japan. Sometimes the clouds rested lovingly on its crest, and sometimes almost veiled it, but twice we saw the entire snow-covered space and no adjective can describe the matchless glory of that view. Poets have sung of it, and legend has woven fantastic tales around it, which the natives accept without a doubt.

Mt. Fugii is the scene in Summer of constant visitations—about forty thousand pilgrims appearing there yearly, mostly of the working-class. Before the sixteenth century the mountain was in a constant state of eruption, the last great activity occurring at the beginning of the eighteenth century.