le supported what he said. Obviously their statements were _ex
parte_, and were promoted solely by the desire to see the distinguished
foreign mandarin sojourn for one night in their hungry midst. So here I
was detained in a tumble-down inn that had formerly been a temple. All
of us, men and master, were housed in the old guest-room. Beds were
formed of disused coffin boards, laid between steps made of clods of dry
clay; the floor was earth, the windows paper. The pony was feeding from
a trough in the temple hall itself, an armful of excellent grass before
it, while a bucket of beans was soaking for him in our corner. Other
mules and ponies were stationed in the side pavilions where formerly
were displayed the scenes of torture in the Buddhist Hells.

As I wrote at a table by the window, a crowd collected, stretching
across the street and quarrelling to catch a glimpse of the foreign
teacher and his strange method of writing, so different from the
Chinese. Poor sickly people were these--of the ten in the first row
three were suffering from goitre, one from strabismus, and two from
ophthalmia. All were poorly clad and poorly nourished; all were very
dirty, and their heads were unshaven of the growth of days. But, despite
their poverty, nearly all the women, the children as well as the
grandmothers, wore silver earrings of pretty filigree.

Now, even among these poor people, I noticed that there was a
disposition rather to laugh at me than to open the eyes of wonder; and
this is a peculiarity of the Chinese which every traveller will be
struck with. It often grieved me. During my journey, although I was
treated with undeniable friendliness, I found that the Chinese, instead
of being impressed by my appearance, would furtively giggle when they
saw me. But they were never openly rude like the coloured folk were in
Jamaica, when, stranded in their beautiful island, I did them the honour
to go as a "walk-foot buccra" round the sugar plantations from Ewarton
to Montego Bay. Even poor ragged fellows, living in utter misery, would
laugh and snigger at me when not observed, and crack jokes at the
foreigner who was well-fed, well-clad, and well-mounted in a way you
would think to excite envy rather than derision. But Chinese laughter
seems to be moved by different springs from ours. The Chinaman makes
merry in the presence of death. A Chinaman, come to announce to you the
death of a beloved parent or brother, laughs heartily as he