roadway. Ordinarily any cart or chair, irrespective of the rank of the occupant, may use it. It is always kept in excellent condition, and seems to be a survival of the raised roads that Marco Polo speaks of in describing the grounds of the Palace of Kublai Khan. The lower roads on either side of this raised causeway are generally in a lamentable state. Itinerant cooks ply their odorous trade of frying greaseballs, etc. ; barbers shave their clients and act as manicures and chiropodists, in full view of the passerby; venders of old iron, clothes, vegetables, etc, spread out their wares in the middle of the road, in reckless disregard of the wandering fowls, dogs, and even pigs, which roam about. Pools of stagnant water and piles of refuse add their quota to the malodorous confusion. Still the streets are not unpicturesque. The elaborately carved fronts of the shops, the graceful signs, with their red pennants, the gaily colored lanterns swinging to and fro, the great umbrellas unfurled here and there over the itinerant venders, all have a certain sort of charm.
After entering the gate of the Imperial City, the roads are gay with carts, official chairs, and handsomely caparisoned horses. We sometimes met attachés of the Wai-Wu-Pu and different Yamens hurrying to and fro with despatches, or caught a glimpse, in the depths of his green chair, of one of the great ministers, the thin white-bearded face of Prince Ching, or the heavy Jewish-looking physiognomy of Na-Tung, the new minister, who seems likely to grow in favor. Sometimes we passed a bridal procession, with its gay, red-embroidered chairs, or some splendid funeral, with the great red catafalque, covered with magnificent embroideries (for red is used alike for wedding chairs and for funeral decorations)—its massive, long poles held by hundreds of red-gowned bearers and accompanied by the motley crew of figurants, who are always hired for funeral celebrations in China; the catafalque, followed by white-covered carts, carrying the mourning white-garbed women of the family. Sometimes we passed a crowd of yellow-gowned lama priests and monks returning from some celebration in the Palace—sometimes, great droves of camels laden with coal from the mountains or produce from