er of many sons; asked how many thousands of
pieces of silver I had (daughters), and how long I proposed to permit my
dignified presence to remain in their mean and contemptible city.

Mr. Dymond is a Devonshire man, and that evening he gave me for tea
Devonshire cream and blackberry jam made in Chaotong, and native oatmeal
cakes, than which I never tasted any better in Scotland.

Chaotong is a walled Fu city with 40,000 inhabitants. Roman Catholics
have been established here for many years, and the Bible Christian
Mission, which is affiliated to the China Inland Mission, has been
working here since 1887.

There were formerly five missionaries; there are now only two, and one
of these was absent. The missionary in charge, Mr. Frank Dymond, is one
of the most agreeable men I met in China, broad-minded, sympathetic and
earnest--universally honoured and respected by all the district. Since
the mission was opened three converts have been baptised, one of whom is
in Szechuen, another is in Tongchuan, and the third has been gathered to
his fathers. The harvest has not been abundant, but there are now six
promising inquirers, and the missionary is not discouraged. The mission
premises are built on land which cost two hundred and ninety taels, and
are well situated not far from the south gate, the chief yamens, the
temples, and the French Mission. People are friendly, but manifest
dangerously little interest in their salvation.

At Chaotong I had entered upon a district that had been devastated by
recurring seasons of plague and famine. Last year more than 5000 people
are believed to have died from starvation in the town and its immediate
neighbourhood. The numbers are appalling, but doubt must always be
thrown upon statistics derived from Chinese sources. The Chinese and
Japanese disregard of accuracy is characteristic of all Orientals.
Beggars were so numerous, and became such a menace to the community,
that their suppression was called for; they were driven from the
streets, and confined within the walls of the temple and grounds beyond
the south gate, and fed by common charity. Huddled together in rags and
misery, they took famine fever and perished by hundreds. Seventy dead
were carried from the temple in one day. Of 5000 poor wretches who
crossed the temple threshold, the Chinese say that 2000 never came out
alive. For four years past the harvests had been very bad, but there was
now hope of a better time coming. Oppor