tinually threatened with a visitation
from some predatory band of Yue Man-tze's followers, so that when one
stormy night two large fires simultaneously broke out in different
parts of the town we thought trouble was at hand. Our anticipations,
however, were happily unfulfilled, the storm having prevented the
rebels from descending the river as intended, though the fires, which
evidently had been previously planned and timed, were ignited.

Next morning my compatriot brought in word that he had visited the
scenes of the conflagrations, and that three victims, who had been
fearfully burnt, were lying in the street covered with straw mats, but
still alive. Being without medical comforts of any description I was
powerless to render assistance, so refrained from even quitting the
house.

An hour later my countryman again rushed in, followed by two or three
Chinese, to say that relatives of the sufferers had brought them to a
piece of waste ground hard by, had heaped wood round them, had poured
petroleum over them, and were now burning them as a sacrifice to the
god of fire, he having already established his claim over them.

What could be done in the face of such horrifying circumstances?
Nothing, for the poor wretches were already beyond any human aid, and
to have interfered would have brought on us instant vengeance from the
excited mob, but never, to the end of my days, shall I forget that
sickening feeling of enforced inaction.

I especially record this incident as it is the only one of so extreme
a nature that I have ever heard of as taking place amongst the
Chinese, although it is a matter of common knowledge that they
frequently refuse to rescue drowning persons for fear of displeasing
the river god.

We subsequently learnt with much satisfaction that the rebels, to the
number of two or three hundred, on being turned aside by the storm,
crossed the border into the province of Hunan, and there, after
murdering an official, his women-folk and some servants, were
surrounded in a swamp on the shores of the Tongting lake by Government
troops and butchered to a man.

Native breeds of swine are very coarse and always coal black, so that
when a French friend of mine imported for the first time into Peking
two white, foreign-bred pigs, they were objects of immense curiosity
to the local Chinese, who thought them exceedingly uncanny, and
considered it far from improbable that the departed spirits of former
friends might