ade him pick out, at random, and without
thinking what he was doing, a volume of the Chinese classics, and when
he opened it carelessly made his eye light on the sentence "_Kung Kwei
Yih Kwei_,"--literally, the "work wants another basket"? (The phrase
is part of one of Confucius' sayings.) "If a man wants to build a hill
so high," says the Sage, "he must not refuse it the last basketful of
earth."

Here was a direct answer to the I.G.'s own perplexity. Perhaps one
more effort and his work, too, might be successful. At any rate he
would keep back the fatal telegram for a day.

Next morning he went to the Yamen again. The first thing the Minister
said to him was, "Have you sent that telegram?" And they were all
anxiety till they had his reply, which, strange to say, they received
with profound sighs of relief, for once again the Court had changed
their minds--had come to see the folly of risking a break in the
negotiations--and the Ministers, who feared the I.G. had already
taken the step they had insisted on so firmly the day before, were
prodigiously relieved to find nothing definite had been done. Then,
when he told them the reason, how Confucius had guided China from his
grave, they were still more deeply impressed.

The telegram that the I.G. _did_ send that morning to his London agent
was "Sign the Treaty. But don't sign the 1st of April," he added,
for they were then in the last days of March. The sudden relief from
anxiety made him want a little joke--but he did not want it in the
Treaty. Unfortunately nobody appreciated the sally. His Resident
Secretary solemnly wrote on the telegram when he handed it to
the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, "Don't sign on the 1st of
April--_parce que c'est un jour nefasfe_--because it is an unlucky
day." Either as a Scotchman he deplored the unseemly frivolity, or he
thought the French could not appreciate a _poisson d'Avril_, and
so racked his brains for a serious reason to justify the I.G.'s
objection.

It so happened that the very day this message went to Paris, Sir Harry
Parkes's funeral took place. After a useful and eventful life he
died, as every one knows, at the summit of his ambitions while he was
British Minister in Peking. Just as the I.G. was going into the chapel
for the service, one of the Legation Secretaries drew him aside to
communicate a most important piece of news. A wire had come in only
a few minutes before offering "the appointment of Her Britannic